dancing with our hands tied | r. targaryen

lxx.

170 A.C.
KING'S LANDING
•••

BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING WAS EERILY QUIET. The queen was absent and so was her Hand. Their absence did not go unnoticed. It was Argella who made the journey to the Queen's chambers, knowing that was where she'd also find her mother.

"Mother? Your Grace?" Argella asks as she knocks on the chamber door. One of the maids happened to be walking by and Argella gets her attention, "Has anyone attended to Her Grace this morning?"

"No milady," she answers.

"Thank you," Argella says and the maid bows her head before continuing on her way. Argella pushes the door open to the room and pokes her head inside finding that her mother and the Queen were still in bed. It was unlike them to sleep in with the sun's rays beaming into the room.

"Mother?" Argella says softly, "Your Grace?"

She doesn't receive a response and she inches closer to the bed. Argella's breath catches as she finds her mother and Rhaenyra lying perfectly still, their fingers interlocked. There were dried tear stains that decorated the pillows and as Argella reached out in an attempt to rouse her mother and the queen, she was met with nothing but cold skin.

She quickly retracted her hand and tears began to fall freely from her eyes. This could not be happening. This was the moment that Argella had been dreading. The moment that had her crying for days on end when nothing had truly happened but all she had done was think what if. What if she goes? What will I do? Who will I become? They're pathetic thoughts for an adult woman who had nearly completed life herself but they're the thoughts of a daughter who loves her mother dearly.

"Mother," Argella calls softly, hoping that the chilled skin was an illusion of her mind. That her fears had made her believe that her mother was not breathing. She wondered if the silence and lack of response were a trick as well.

"Your Grace?" Argella says softly as she reaches out to find that Rhaenyra's skin is as cold as her mother's. Argella exhales a shaky breath as the tears were truly falling. She moves backward away from the bed and out of the room, closing the door. She wanted to unfind her discovery but she knew that she couldn't.

She slid down the door and she cried. Only yesterday was she spending time with her mother laughing and joking. Only yesterday was her mother boasting about the throne room repairs. Only yesterday was Argella feeling her warm skin and warm words.

"Argella?" Elissa calls out, Luke at her side, "What's taking so long?"

They round the corner and find Argella sitting on the floor, face buried into her knees. Luke wastes no time as he's at Argella's side, but Elissa is hesitant. Argella doesn't cry. She balls her emotions up like the stoic woman that she is. She only cried for father and for Cassana when she thought she was dead. She cried for Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys when they passed. She even cried for Ser Criston when he'd passed on.

So if Argella was crying, someone was dead.

"What's wrong?" Luke asks her softly.

"Luke," Elissa says, and he looks up at Elissa to see that her eyes were glassy now. Perhaps it was simply denial that made Luke unable to jump to the conclusion that Elissa had already done.

"What?" Luke demands. He looks back at Argella, "What is it?"

"They're gone," Argella says softly. Luke's eyes open wider, and he looks at the door. Argella gets to her feet, "Luke don't go in there."

But Lucerys ignores her and throws the doors to the room open. He walks toward the bed and his hands begin to shake as he sets his sights on the completely still women. Elissa stays in the hall because she can't bring herself to step inside. She can't see her mother like that. Not the woman she's idolized all her life.