𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 • 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 & 𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

𝟎𝟏

125 𝓐𝔠.

It had been many moons since the blessed arrival of Princess Astorea, a cause for grand festivities in the heart of the realm, year after year. To the casual observer, she was deemed a gentle soul, a tender spirit. Yet, those who shared a closer bond with her knew that this perception did not entirely capture her essence. It was not that she harbored malice in her heart, but rather, she reveled in games, mischief, and the art of driving those around her to the brink of madness. Such antics brought her immeasurable delight, a mischievous joy that danced in her eyes.

After her came her sweet sister Heleana, a dainty girl, one with gentle eyes and a tender heart. One year later, her younger brother Aemond entered the world, ever the quiet one, much unlike Aegon in more than one way. Yet, none of them could rouse her as Aegon had, with his troubled self, for perhaps they shared a certain quality that neither her other siblings possessed, with Aemond embodying it more so. She observed him with a touch of melancholy, never quite understanding or finding common ground with his brooding nature.

"Princess," Her handmaiden spoke, as she intricately braided Astorea's silvery locks, that cascaded down in waves reminiscent of the sea. "The septa has expressed her concern at your absence in her teachings this morning," the handmaiden informed the princess.

Astorea let out a weary sigh. The septa's needlework lessons felt like a tedious chore. No matter how hard she tried, her fingers seemed to find themselves pierced by the needle, leaving her in perpetual discomfort. She knew her sister, Heleana, excelled in needlework, an art that eluded Astorea's own clumsy attempts.

"I was unwell," Astorea lied, her words dripping with deceit. A shrug accompanied her statement, her gaze shifting downward towards her lap. "All the remedy I required for recovery was an airborne journey on dragonback," The fabrication was blatant now, her tone laced with a touch of sarcasm.

Her handmaiden fought to suppress a smirk, well acquainted with Astorea's mischievous spirit. She wholeheartedly believed that none, be they the most fearless knight, the most formidable of dragons, or the vastest of armies, could ever keep her in check. This trait, while holding the potential for both greatness and ruin, would ultimately rest upon Astorea's shoulders, her decisions defining its true worth.

After some time, the handmaiden finished tending to her hair and allowed her natural locks to fall freely, adorned with a few intricate braids framing her face. Her stunning beauty was undeniable, as clear as the clouds that graced the sky.

"You are truly are a vision, princess," the handmaiden praised, her voice filled with admiration. She bowed her head as a sign of respect and prepared to take her leave.

Astorea remained silent, the familiar words of praise echoing through her mind. She was well aware of her own beauty, having witnessed it reflected in the mirror's gaze. Those around her were quick to remind her, and she listened. Yet, admitting it outright felt like a double-edged sword, one she would withhold.

With a flick of her gaze, Astorea turned away from her seat and towards her sister, who sat on the carpet, cradling an insect in her gentle palms. The sight made Astorea grimace slightly, her distaste for such creatures apparent.

Astorea spoke, glancing down at the beetle that rested in Heleana's palms. "You are always welcome here," she said to her sister. "But your little friends are not so warmly received." She couldn't help shivering as the sound of the bug's movement sent chills down her spine.

Helaena remained silent in response, completely engrossed in the intricate details of the insect before her. She murmured softly, uttering fragments of sentences in hushed tones, lost in her own world.