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QUEEN AEMMA LEANT AGAINST HER BED, her breathing measured but strained. Cyrenna sat at her bedside, having just finished reading aloud to offer some distraction. The book was now set aside, a silent witness to their conversation.
Aemma looked out the window, her gaze distant, "The pressure to produce a male heir... it's been more suffocating this time around. Though I'm content, it... it is still tiresome."
Cyrenna's eyes softened with sympathy, "I can only imagine how difficult it must be. The expectations, the constant scrutiny. It's a heavy load to bear."
Aemma sighed, her fingers idly tracing the fabric of her gown, "I knew my worth would be measured by my ability to bear a son. But I find less and less people care of my own happiness as of late."
She retorted, "It's always about the legacy, the dynasty."
Cyrenna spoke, her tone earnest, "You're a queen who is very loved and respected. I find that is all a woman can ask for. And you have it, my Queen."
Aemma offered a wry smile, "I do wonder if this was all what I had wanted."
Cyrenna raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued, "You do?"
Aemma's eyes met Cyrenna's, "I didn't know what I wanted until later in my marriage. But even then, the expectations are relentless."
Cyrenna couldn't help but think of Daemon, think of their unfulfilled promises. Aemma's sharp gaze caught Cyrenna's reaction. A small, knowing smirk played at her lips, "I sense that you have your own struggles."
Cyrenna's face flushed slightly, a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort. She said quickly, "We're all caught in a web of duty and expectation."
Aemma's smirk widened, her eyes twinkling with an almost mischievous glint, "It strikes me when a person outside of this... this house finds themselves drawn into our complexities."
Cyrenna felt a lump form in her throat. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."
Aemma's gaze softened as she looked at Cyrenna, "You've been a steadfast friend and advisor. I appreciate that more than you know. I'd love to see the day you too are cherished, Lady Cyrenna."
She leant a little closer to Cyrenna, "Our complexity could never cherish you. Unless I know no better."
"But you do," Cyrenna replied as Aemma held the girls' hand, "Might I speak plainly?"
"Of course, your grace."
"Indiscretions will only burden you," Aemma admitted, "You're a lady of grace, kindness and warmth. I know that your father has been trying to arrange a marriage befitting... Let him. Let him find a man worth your golden heart."
Cyrenna's smile faded, the words melting her carefully maintained composure. She scoffed lightly, still trying to mask the bitterness in her tone, "A marriage? Father's been searching for suitors like a merchant selling prized goods. But what is marriage if there's no affection? No... spark?"
