if there is light then I am going to swallow it.
if there is a god then I'm going to make him cry.
or in which,
the eldest daughter of the king viserys the peaceful, rejects the prospect of being the heir in favor of her younger sister.
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AFTER DAYS OF DOTING on her mother, the day that the tourney began her mother began her labours and ushered her youngest out the door, with a promise to be the first to hold the new babe.
Worry but satisfied with Aemma's promise, her mother never broke a promise to Lucrezia; her handmaidens began to dress her quickly before ushering her towards the tourney.
She had arrived just as it began, her fathers speech over and her sister had waved her over, saving a seat beside her as the younger quickly sat; "mother began her labours, she seemed to be in good spirits." Lucrezia murmured as Rhaenyra smiled, grasping her hand, "we shall hope,"
Lucrezia frowned, hope was fickle and she knew it, her eyes strayed from her sister to the jousting beneath them, to a tall knight cover in dark armour, whom seemed to he sending everyone flying.
"What emblem is that?" Lucrezia questioned softly, as Alicent turned and answered after a moment, "Stark, I heard that the lord of winterfell entered the tourney. He's recently widowed,"
Lucrezia hummed, her eyes watching his as he brought his mount to the royal box, brazen she thought with a hidden smirk, that dropped at his words.
"I believe I could best these boys, but having the favour of Princess Lucrezia will guarantee that for me," the Lord of winterfell smiled almost slyly, as his eyes flickered from the king to the princess who stood, her wreath of blue stained and white roses in her hand, as she strolled closer.
he was stunning, his eyes an icy blue and his hair as dark as the midnight sky; he was rugged looking, a war-made man. A man amongst boys, and with a smile she let the wreath fall on his lance.
"My favour is yours, my lord." She spoke softly, an airy tilt to her voice as his head dipped, "the only Lord worthy of your favour, my princess."
Her brow raised at his bluntness and he laughed aloud, riding away and leaving a blushing maiden in his midst.
"My, he is handsome." Rhaenyra whispered as Lucrezia retook her seat, "he is around daemons age if I remember correctly,"
Lucrezia hummed, nodding. "From what I remember from lessons, he'd be roughly thirty something name days. A bit elder than our uncle, sister."
Even as the burning stare of her uncle, as he called out the Stark Lord couldn't catch her attention as her eyes drew to her whispering father, his face paling as his eyes flickered to her.
her guts twisted, as she stood after his rushing figure, running through the halls caring not for her dress; her mother was the only thought on her mind.
"Mũna," she yelled as she got to the guarded doors, her mother's cries for help echoing harshly, "leave me go, as your princess I demand it!"
"Kings orders, we cannot allow you into the birthing chambers." The guard said stoically, and she nearly growled as her mothers cries began to quieten, with a yell she lifted her dress and brought her knee to his middle region, rushing past him to open the door.
Lucrezia wish she hadn't; the open body of her mother haunted her from that day.
