Born on the nightfall of a tragedy, raised with the weight of power and expectations over her shoulders, Elaenora Arryn knew her fate could not be written by the Seven, but only by herself.
Carrying the blood of both the murderer and the murdered i...
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« Deeds, not words »
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10th day of the seventh moon of 119 AC
To Lady Elaenora Arryn, future Lady of the Vale,
My sunshine, I am glad to announce that I'll be visiting King's Landing in two weeks from today. Certain affairs need my attention in the capital, and I consider it the perfect moment to reunite with you after these long moons without your beautiful presence to make my days brighter. Prepare yourself, we will make a little trip together. There are certain things I would like to show you now that you are near your tenth name day.
All the love.
Your father, Lord Aemar Arryn, Lord and Defender of the Vale.
Elaenora sighed heavily as she walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, reading the note that a raven had brought this morning from up north. Despite feeling a warm sensation in her chest at the idea of seeing her father again, Nora could not help but feel that warmth turning into a choking pressure when she read the words 'future Lady of the Vale'. Despite knowing her father did not intend to dismiss her mother's legacy, ever since Nora had started to grow and gain more sense, both Aemar and Selis had indirectly begun a tug-of-war to lure Nora into making that final choice that still terrified her.
For years, ever since Selis revealed her reality, Nora had tried to push it to the back of her mind. It was a problem she would deal with once she was older, she had told herself hundreds of times. But, as of now, time was starting to run, Nora was closer to her teens, and the moment of truth seemed to be approaching with the speed of a dragon. It was not like either of the places did not appeal to Nora. Being Lady of the Vale would grant her the power and security many noble and common women would only dream of. At the same time, Edrya provided the calm and tranquil life her Celtigar female ancestors had sought and cherished for decades. The problem was choosing one and leaving the other in the lurch.
With another exhale, Nora kept sauntering down the corridors in the training yard direction, as she attempted to focus on her father's future visit and the day at present rather than on the upcoming choice.
"His hair is brown, Your Grace. Just like the last two, his skin as pale as the snow that coats Winterfell as well," the voice of the midwife of the castle, a woman as old as she was wise, was heard in a failed attempt of a whisper as Nora passed in front of the King's chambers, always guarded by his men. She could not see Viserys nor the midwife, but she was able to recognise their voices, which made her slow down her pace to discreetly eavesdrop out of pure curiosity.
"T'is not important, is it?" Nora could hear Viserys' voice in a lower tone, with a hint of dismiss tainting it. "I had a black mare once bearing a foal with the whitest coat I had ever seen. These things happen."
