Alicent Hightower raised a bastard - The Stranger's Child.
Except she didn't.
Naenyra looked nothing like the Targaryen beauty that her father expected. She was, as her mother always wished, a Hightower at heart, and how she looked only proved it...
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Nyra's connection with the Gods was only aided by the teaching of her aunt, and her trips to the Sept dwindling as the pair would make their way to the old temple. She had learnt that it had been built by the first Hightower woman back when there were First men, and the Children of the Forest roamed the land. Though at the time she was not a Hightower, she was just a woman, it would be her line that passed it from one generation to another. Mothers teaching daughters, Grandmothers teaching granddaughters, and aunts teaching nieces.
While the room that they spent most of their time in was not ancient, it had been an addition to what once stood, and the land they occupied still held the old magic that the first Hightower had blessed it with. Years of blessing, sacrifices, and prayers had happened, and with each one, she could feel the electricity that rose from the ground beneath her.
Her aunt had taken to having her walk along the grass barefooted, to be connected and grounded, to open herself to the energies of the land around her. At first she had been sceptical, but with one step followed by another, she could feel it. It wasn't like it was painful or that it hurt but more that it was like a little push, a small buzz that unless she was focused, she would barely feel it.
With each time that she repeated the practice, the stronger it got until it felt like she was standing atop a beehive. But it wasn't just the ground of the temple she felt it on, she ensured to try the grass outside. While not as strong, it was still there. Ness had been right about the Gods being all around them, Nyra didn't know how she had missed it all of these years.
It was the altar that made her feel more connected than anything else, that bound her to the Gods and the energy that they possessed. She had made hers beside her aunt's; smaller but ready for expansion when the time was right. Nyra had to work for it, to demonstrate that her dedication to the Gods wasn't superficial, that she recognised the bonds that were open to her.
Veraxes was the God that surrounded her the most, and while that would worry most, she had never known life without him. Her great beast would often be curled up outside of the temple, his green eyes always keeping watch as she'd slip through what felt like a veil between this world and the next. His comforting presence in the dragon made her feel at ease, like she could recognise him lingering in the space around her.
It wasn't a presence that put her on edge, or made her feel a chill run the length of her spine; but it was warm, like the warm hearty smell of cinnamon stewing in water. He was friendly and caring, that feeling only amplified by the presence of his wife. She was not like cinnamon but like a dusting of something floral, of a motherly hand that brushes through long hair or the surprising feeling when a butterfly lands on a hand.
Ness had taught her not to fear it, to follow the intuition that sat within her gut. Nyra's dark eyes rose, watching Ness as she watched the young girl. "You only have one chance." Ness uttered, her voice still. "Which cup holds the acorn?"
Between them sat five wooden cups, each one with something hidden beneath it. Nyra didn't know which one held what, or what they even held but Ness liked to test her, to see how far she could lean into her intuition.
