She is Daemon's daughter but she wants nothing from him, rides a dragon and doesn't shy away from a fight. She also hides a dangerous secret and has her own reasons for coming to King's Landing.
Aemond wonders if he can tame her.
✧...
author's note: sorry for the delay, I was so sick I couldn't leave the bed. anyways, we have about 10-15 chapters left (give or take, 'cause I'm still thinking about the ending). this chapter is more chill, but the upcoming ones... let's just say you should enjoy the peace while it lasts haha also, the chapters are getting longer, but I hope you'll enjoy them still.
happy holidays to everyone who's celebrating!
P.S. the apron scene was definitely inspired by "Little Women" (2019 version) ♡
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Lia's sleep is deep, quiet like a forest at dawn, and just as peaceful. She comes back to consciousness only for brief moments, as if wandering through the morning mist, only catching some glimpses. There's Marissa bringing her more blankets, plush and thick, weighting her into the bed; then there's something tickling her eyebrow — cooling and balmy — it's the maid applying the ointment over her healing wound, slow and careful and lulling Lia back to sleep; then more color sneak though the curtains — thin streaks of orange, pink, red — the sun is setting, she guesses drowsily, and Marissa brings her some soup but the girl only burrows herself into the blankets and falls deeper into sleep. The night is a bliss, a mercy: Lia doesn't have dreams, and her mind does get a chance to rest as well as her body.
She misses the sunrise for the first time in years. The light reaches her, still, around midday, warm and bright, gliding over her face, teasing her out of her slumber. Lia's eyes are half-open as she looks around the sunlit room, over pieces of furniture she never paid much attention to — opulent, wooden, golden, most of the coverings embroidered with the Targaryen's sigil, little three-headed dragons peeking at her. Marissa is standing unsuspiciously by the window, marveling at a gown in her hands, its material light and layered, its color green — deep and unmistakably familiar.
Lia jolts fully awake, sitting in the bed. "Where did you get this?"
The maid flinches at the sound of her voice before turning to her, grinning. "Found it lying under the bed! Seemed unfair to keep it there, such a pretty—"
"Put it back and don't ever take it out," Lia cuts her off, more harshly than intended, more concerned than she should be over some piece of fabric.
Marissa doesn't seem to be offended but more so taken aback. She follows the order, her gaze staying on Lia, cautiously curious, as she folds the dress. When she comes closer, the girl speaks again, her harshness toned down. "I did not mean to be so rude, I'm sorry."
"I should be the one apologizing," Marissa corrects her humbly, "It is just an unusual place to keep dresses at, especially when they are so beautiful."
Lia glances at the folded gown, visibly conflicted — she almost wants to reach for it but instead looks away. "It was my mother's."
"Such an interesting color," Marissa is fumbling with the hem again, "And that intricate pattern... Never seen anything like it here in King's Landing."
