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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oday was the day, the day she was sure she was going home. Nyra was excited, practically buzzing in her place as the maids were desperate to try and tie the girl into her dress, sending her soft scolding looks every time she turned one way or another. Words were rolling from her tongue in a flurry, desperate to tell them everything and anything, a rattle of questions and then answers to her own questions.
It was her nameday, her ten-and-three nameday. The day that her Grandsire had said she would be allowed home on when he had sent her off. They had never seen her so excited, so eager to return home and see her family after so long away from them. Nyra couldn’t help but wonder what they looked like, how they were. Were they just as she remembered them? Aegon would be almost ten-and-eight, Helaena not far from that, and Aemond a man of six-and-ten.
What would his scar look like? Would it be as harsh as it had looked when she had left him? Would Helaena still wear her hair in long braids or would she have taken to putting little clips of bugs within it? And Aegon? Would he have finally lost the silliness to him?
She had gone to the market after, in search of trinkets for each one. Aegon had a fine silver ring, the design of a silver dragon curled around his finger. It would have been more fitting if it had been gold, she could still remember the shade of his own dragon glimmering beneath the light. For Helaena, she had gotten her a butterfly brooch; the shade similar to that of an Emperor Butterfly. And for Aemond, a copy of the fairytale he would read to her as a child, this one having illustrations nestled amongst the pages that captured the story beautifully.
Daeron was harder than the others, the younger boy mostly likely having changed more than the others. She hoped he hadn’t lost his silliness, that he was still just as goofy as he had been as a child. For him she had chosen a pin for his lapel, it was small and silver with a sword pressed against it. It reminded her of him in the training yard, of how reckless he was with the wooden swords.
Her lips tugged up at the thought, shaking her head as she had wrapped them up last night. Nyra had managed to even find something for her mother, a chain to pin to her dress with the seven pointed star on it. It was gold, something that she had seen her mother wear often against the dark green of her dresses. It only added to the need to go home, to see them once more.
Her dark eyes were glittering, the smile wide as her cheeks ached. She had been up before the sun, the excitement too full in her heart to allow sleep to take her. She knew it would be a handful of month’s travel to get back to the Keep, but it didn’t matter, she would be seeing them. Nyra couldn’t help her giggle, her hand covering her mouth as the maid finally secured the dress with a bow.
“There you are, my lady. All ready.” She told her; Nyra finally turned to look. It hadn’t been a gown of red or black or green, but rather a gown of white and gold. It wasn’t extravagant, just the right amount of beauty as the white gown glittered with the gold embroidery, scenes of dragons curling around her hem. A gold ribbon sat around her waist, and a simple embroidery around her neckline and sleeves. She felt beautiful and grown up, her hair like a mane around her shoulders flowing to her waist. But it was nothing to how her insides bounced at the potential of going home, of seeing her siblings and her mother.
