𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙀𝙇𝙔𝙎 𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙂𝘼𝙍𝙔𝙀𝙉 tore her mother apart from the inside out. She had gotten stuck halfway from the womb, slowly eroding the bones and muscles within the young woman. Her father had been granted a choice, and in that moment the chance...
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ VIII. 𝗠𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝗚𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗲 125ᴀᴄ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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SINCE THE HEIR HAD DEPARTED, the middle of the Princesses had found herself particularly lonesome. Oftentimes, she dedicated her days to making Rhaenyra's easier in some shape or form. It brought great pleasure to guide her through the gardens, holding the woman upright, or to tend to her hair, even to mind Jacaerys and Lucerys to allow Rhaenyra and her ladies some peace.
Now, she had none of that for herself.
Rhaenyra had taken her leave to Dragonstone with her sons and husband. Anaelys could not find why. Ser Harwin and Lord Lyonel had left for Harrenhal, the looming shadow of bastardy had fled court after his attack on Ser Criston. It would not take long for such rumours to dissipate back to a slight murmur from Hightower lips.
The Red Keep felt empty with the loss of so many, the halls were much too quiet without the little Princes and their jovial father, and the King's side cold without his loyal Hand. Everything had become so terribly wrong in a handful of days, and Anaelys hated it beyond words.
Though Rhaenyra and her Velaryon sons had vowed to write, Anaelys doubted they would come often enough to tide her loneliness. Even Daeron had not written to her nor her siblings since arriving in Oldtown.
So, in the absence of her elder sister, Anaelys had taken to spending her days amongst Helaena. The two would often find themselves alone in Helaena's bedchambers, attending to their own enjoyments. Anaelys would gratefully listen to her little sister recount whatever knowledge she had on the caged insects within her room, or simply ramble on aimlessly whilst sewing pretty pattens on pale cotton. Insects were such an unpleasant sight for Anaelys. She hated the way they looked, the way they moved and the feel of them on her skin, but whenever Helaena would absentmindedly hand her some spider or centipede, she would cradle it in her palms patiently until her sister took it back.
