green lies, black hearts

XI (or: Interlude II)

a/n - thank you all for the love and support, it means the world :) also thank you to @JENNIFERSB0DIES for making a cover for GLBH! We've hit 200k hits over at ao3, and have passed 25 chapters! slowly but surely trying to catch up over here lol. thank you all for reading <3

~+~

Shaera

Shaera chewed her lip, staring long and hard at the finally-finished story that she held in her hands.

"It's readable now," Aemond said, handing her the pages. "However you wish to go about that."

"But did you—"

"Enjoy it?" Aemond's jaw clicked and the pair's gazes met for a brief moment before they both looked back at the pages. It was bound now. There wasn't some fancy leather cover, but the pages had been strung together with a delicate precision Shaera never could have managed. Aemond had done it for her. The only real way to have a story, he had explained. "It's...passable."

Shaera bit her lip, flipping through the pages as the crackling hearth of the library filled the silence between them. She wanted it—needed it—to be perfect. For her grandfather. For those times in between milk of the poppy. For perhaps just a little something to make his days easier while he lays in bed...rotting. Dying.

"Thank you, Aemond."

"It'll be alright," she whispered to herself, taking a few deep breaths. She could do this! It was just a silly story and certainly her grandfather would enjoy it. He had to. He had been asking and asking and asking whenever she had the time to read to him. He wanted the story she wrote.

She nodded and faced the doors to her grandfather's chambers. "He'll enjoy it, Shaera," she told herself as Ser Harrold gave a little chuckle and opened the doors for her.

"I'm sure His Grace will, princess," he whispered. "Concernin' you and your brothers, princess, there's not a thing he wouldn't love."

Shaera smiled at the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Thank you, Ser Harrold."

Harrold Westerling bowed his head and Shaera entered her grandfather's chambers. When the doors shut behind her, she was left in silence. The air was stiff and stale, scented only with dying incense and crackling fire. Sunlight, grey as it pierced through sheer curtains, streamed into the room, casting a halo over the cobweb-covered model of the Old Valyrian freehold. Shaera thought someone should dust it. She would if not for the little spiders with terribly long legs that sometimes crawled within the stone-carved crevices.

Shaera swallowed the lump in her throat and crossed her grandfather's chambers with as quiet of steps as she could manage. She pressed the curtains aside and smiled softly as she grabbed a chair and pulled it to his bedside.

"Aemma?"

Shaera stiffened and reached for her grandfather's hand. "It's me, grandfather," she corrected. "Shaera?"

Viserys tilted his head slowly, half of his face covered in fabric to hide what she now knew to be the half that was actively rotting with each day. Today, he looked more pallor than usual, and Shaera frowned as she stroked his hand with her thumb. He attempted a smile.

"Ah...my darling granddaughter," he wheezed. He squeezed her hand. "You look lovely today."

"Thank you. Mother braided my hair," she said. "Do you like it?"

"Very much. You look...you look just like her. But also y—you look like my cousin: Rhaenys. Do you know Rhaenys?"

"Yes, grandfather." Was his memory fading so quickly? Or had they given him milk of the poppy already today? At his bedside table, there was his cup, and Shaera peered into it, displeased to see that there were a few drops of poppy bubbled along the bottom. He had it already, she knew that now. Twisting her lips, Shaera sighed and leaned back towards her grandfather. "How has your day been? Anything exciting?"