Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"May the Mother cradle us in Her warmth and divinity. May the Warrior imbue us with His strength. May the Father weigh our ene. . ." Alicent's prayers warped and dissolved in the passage between Jaehaera's ears and brain as she knelt beneath the statues of the Seven Gods standing proudly in the Great Sept, the rough and freezing cobblestones gnawing at her kneecaps. The chief thought smothering her brain was Aegon—and she hated it.
The hours Aegon's visage persisted in her mind like stubborn weeds could be spent plotting Ruban's trial, and concocting a plausible tale for her mother's inevitable discovery. But no, his smirk flickered behind her eyelids, his scent haunted her like incense in the GodsWood.
Helaena's nimble fingers tugged on the cascading sleeves of Jaehaera's icy blue gown, drawing the elder princess' attention." I do not like it here, sister," she whispered, her voice soft and lilting as a summer's breeze carrying a leaf over vast, verdant plains."The statues judge us. Weigh our punishments upon our death."
The eldest princess' lips parted as she scrambled to rebuild her conscious stream of thought and cobble together a reassuring, yet confident response to her little sister's. . . queer, out-there sentiments." The statues lack sentience, Hel. They are crafted from living minds, but are not that themselves."
Helaena's amethyst gaze flickered to the dark stone lording above them, their cold features set in various expressions. "But I feel the eyes on me. Judging," she whispered even lower, so as to not disrupt their mother, who'd lowered into a murmured personal prayer." Mayhap the stone itself does not judge, but the Gods spy through dead eye."
The eldest princess' comfort sounded robotic and contrived even to her own ears. Though, Helaena was grateful someone had spared an ear to listen rather than just coo and sweep the brittle threads of her psyche beneath a jeweled rug. No matter how ridiculous, her elder sister sat through the girl's madness.
"If the Gods watch us, then I do not believe they care. We are naught but mere mortals to them, expendable ants to be lorded over, amusements to be mocked as we devote our lives to their demands and obligations." Jaehaera almost reached for Helaena's hand, seeking out her warmth, yet she withdrew halfway. Hel disliked touch.
Relief dulled the keen dagger of guilt sawing through the young princess' breast. She oh-so wanted to be what her sister needed, dependable and forthcoming—so Jae will stay this time, so she won't run off and never come back. But it was not her task to unravel the threads the Gods have woven.
"Well isn't my family just lovely, leaving me behind on this little. . . excursion? Y'know it's a real shame I had to question your handmaiden on your whereabouts, sister mine. The little Dornish firebrand. She's got a mouth on her." A slurred voice echoed around the emptiness of the Sept, ricocheting off the unmoving bosoms of the divine, garnering the attention of all three women. Aegon. He was present this time, in all his disheveled, wan faced, hungover glory.
