It Was Supposed To Be Anonymous

Morning Escape

After the worst night's sleep of her life, Vaelara woke before dawn, tangled beneath her sheets and drenched in sweat. The bed was far softer than the one she's slept in at Driftmark for the last fortnight, and she'd tossed and turned for hours before falling into a restless slumber.

With nothing else to occupy her mind, she dressed in a crimson silk gown, braiding a small section of her hair before wrapping it around the crown of her head.

Fingering the Valyrian steel necklace her mother had given her, Vaelara stared at herself in the mirror feeling strangely out of place. The Red Keep was supposed to be her home, and yet, she felt like an outsider, and unwanted guest.

I am the heir to the Iron Throne; the blood of the Dragon. I belong here...

She repeated the sentiment to herself over and over again, before nodding in the mirror and leaving her chambers.

The corridors were desolate and grey as she walked through the halls, trying to remember what each wall looked like before Alicent Hightower had stripped them bare. Some of the old tapestries and statues she could recall with ease, others had slipped from her mind like a thief in the night; never to return to her.

Footsteps after footsteps echoed in the corridor as she made her way down through the keep, setting an eerie ambiance around her as she went. Vaelara walked without any true destination in mind, listening as the castle slowly woke and servants began to scurry about like worker ants.

When her stomach growled, Vaelara decided she might as well make her way to the kitchens. After all, she didn't have anything else to do with her morning.

As she descended the stairs, the smell of bread and spices enveloped her and the princess inhaled the scents deeply. Merilde was there, kneading dough at the main table, and Vaelara smiled. Some things in the keep may have changed, but her favorite cook remained.

"What are you making today?" The old woman started, spinning around with her hand over her heart; wearing a look of shock. Vaelara couldn't help but grin at Merilde and her terrified reaction.

"Fucking hells, child! Are you trying to put me in the grave?" the old lady demanded.

"Of course not! Who would feed me?" the princess countered with a sarcastic grin. "Do you have any tarts?" Vaelara whispered excitedly, leaning on the edge of the counter.

Merilde narrowed her eyes at the princess, but after a moment, she smiled softly, offering Vaelara a small plate of tarts. Her eyes lit up and she snatched the tray of pastries; immediately stuffing a one of them into her mouth.

"Do you always hork down your food like a starving toddler?" Vaelara jumped at Aemond's voice, catching sight of him standing in the archway of the kitchens.

"What are you doing down here?" The princess countered with her mouth full, before covering her face with her hand and swallowing the pastry in her mouth.

"I wake early to train," Aemond replied, "so I eat down here long before breakfast is served." he explained. Vaelara stared at him for a moment, before taking another bite of the tart, the sweet tang of the jelly bursting against her tongue.

"Have you told Helaena you fucked her husband yet?" Vaelara choked on the bread in her mouth, coughing the thick mouthful of dough onto the table and glaring at her uncle. Aemond smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Merilde pretended not to listen, but the princess saw the way the cook's hands stilled in their kneading. "I don't know what your talking about." Vaelara denied stiffly.

"Please." Aemond scoffed. "My sight may be hindered, but I saw you in that room with my brother, clear as day. Mayhaps, after your brother is cast aside as Driftmark's heir, we can go tell Helaena together?"