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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It made her uneasy to think that the next couple of days would be her last in the Reach, that the promise she made to her aunt would be broken because she would be going home. She had spoken to Hobby about it, and since the funeral, his head seemed to be in a better place than before. It gave her a small comfort that it might not all fall apart in the time she was away.
Most of it had been seeing various friends, making sure that they knew she would be returning home, and trying to evade her family just a little. She wasn't sure just how comfortable she was with them, especially as they had all changed so much. It made it easier to keep herself busy with Daeron and Rosie, Margaret and Ilaria in tow.
One thing that Nyra had noticed was that no matter where she went, Aemond would be there. He was quiet, never approaching and always keeping his distance but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. Whether she was at dinner or in the expansive library or walking across the grounds. He had always happened to be there, looking rather unbothered with a book in hand.
There was one place she had sought solstice from it, and that was the Temple. She was the only one allowed in, and the quiet of the room soothed her but also made her feel the weight of her aunt's death. Everything was as they had left it but the altar.
The Gods that Ness had chosen to pray to had taken the offering, seeing that only a frail carcass of an orange was left in the bowl, everything around it wilted and the candles burned to nothing. She didn't know if she should remove it or dismantle it, but part of her felt that it should be buried. Return to the earth like her aunt would be. Today would be the day that Ness would be buried, and Nyra felt that these needed to go with her.
It would be the first stage of many that the temple would see, the rest being the packing up of books and items, of seeing her own altar packed and to be moved to the Red Keep. Parts of it would remain here for when Nyra knew that she needed to return, to reconnect with her own ancestors and access the energy of the land. But she would pour over the tomes and scrolls at home, find her own place in the Keep like Visenya once had.
She had picked a small wooden box, taking hold of the various drawings and feathers, of small clay figures and the candlesticks. Each altar was personal to their maker, and Ness' was no different. Nyra took care as she packed it into the small wooden box, folding the tapestry that had hung above it and placing it over the top to secure it all. She wanted to add a flower for her aunt, something that she loved and reminded her of home. Ness had always been so proud of her garden.
Rose met her in the garden, a shawl wrapped around her arms as a frown sat above emerald eyes. She didn't say anything, choosing to lean against the wall as Nyra pruned at a violet hued rose. She paused in her motions, head turned to Rose, looking at her expectedly. She looked like there was a war in her gaze, a hard look to her usual soft features. "What is it?" Nyra asked her, reaching up to give her her hand.
