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001. ✸smoldered bones
THE JOURNEY FOR her chambers wasn't long, as the dark haired girl walked steadily yet her pace was quick, readjusting the bottoms of her dark green dress, she wondered to herself what could possibly have happened that had her rushing through the corridors, brushing aside every potential escort.
Her thoughts surrounded by multitudinous hypothesizes until she imerges herself in her personal chambers, caulked by servants, in the middle of the room her pensive Grandsire shaking his head in acknowledgement.
Caliste's head tilted down for few instants before she spoke, "You wished to see me." her tone collected, facing Otto's wrinkled features.
"Dear granddaughter," he begun, his voice was heavy, "I proceeded here, to speak to you about a possible betrothal,"
The girl swallowed intensely, her light blue eyes flickering throughout the room, avoiding eye-contact with her grandsire. It was inevitable; she knew it was going to happen eventually as she had come of age. But a yearning fear permeated every corner of her mind, she cannot erase her father, she will not marry a man who evokes him. Her pulse is too quick, too loud. It's echoing in her ears, in her bones, in the room she cannot find a spot to hide in. Her hands are in her hair, tugging, pulling the edges. Her heart is in her throat, choking her words, bloodying beneath her breath. Her gaze in the air, trapped longing. She's searching for an escape knowing there is none. It smells like it's burning, she's aching.
I will not become my mother.
He observed her closely, he had the ability to sense her, to feel her. He himself did not desire to see his golden granddaughter marry an arrogant man like his son. He loved his son, but he was terrible, and he knew it. He couldn't imagine Caliste hidden behind the walls of a cruel man's castle, she was better than that.
It was both a blessing and a curse, her awfully intelligence and great horror of understanding and observation that filled her dreadful eyes, her senses soaked with deep yearnings and terrifying darkness upon her. She would not be kept hidden and overshadowed.
"With prince Jacaerys Velaryon." he continued, his stare never leaving her pure characteristics.
"What?" she huffed.
"Do you not wish to see yourself as the queen?" a fierce smile tugged in the corner of his lips.
"Leave us alone." she commanded coldly, the servants left the room, until only she and Otto were there.
The dirt underneath her veins begun to flow through her whole body, she had envisioned herself being on top of everyone. The desire to have control smoldered her bones, made her knuckles bloody, she couldn't deny it, of course she had imagined herself as the queen. Though she knew it was unfeasible, Blacks would never accept a Hightower to rule with their heir.
