Alicent Hightower raised a bastard - The Stranger's Child.
Except she didn't.
Naenyra looked nothing like the Targaryen beauty that her father expected. She was, as her mother always wished, a Hightower at heart, and how she looked only proved it...
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It felt girlish to run to the King after what her mother had asked of her, to retreat where no one would bother her in the comfort of incense filled air. It hid the stench of decay, of death lingering in the corner for Viserys whose breath rattled from his gaunt chest. The pot twirled between nervous fingers, turning right way and then wrong way as she fiddled with it over and over.
Would prolonging his life prevent a marriage that she didn't want? Would it change the course so that he could intervene and offer her a way out? She was his third youngest daughter - there were never any expectations after the first two would marry. But could she truly subject Helaena to that life? Helaena who found her sanctuary in insects and botany, who scribed her findings and had a dedicated team of entomologists who work alongside her.
Aunt Ness had warned her all those years ago, she'd given her sage advice over what fate could have in store for her but she never thought that any of it would come true - she thought it was just stipulation, that she would be forced to marry some Lord on the other side of the country because her father would still be alive to step in. That perhaps they would find someone more worthy for Aegon, and she could wed Aemond. That was if he wanted her, after all.
Nyra couldn't find the words as her hands had settled in her lap, dark eyes searching the smooth skin as she tried so desperately to hold them still. She struggled to process what they were asking of her, what her mother truly wanted for her - the Hightower agenda.
They wanted her to marry Aegon, the boy they would eventually crown as King. All out war would break out once her father died, and she would have to take her place as Queen to ensure that their heads wouldn't be placed on spikes.
And even though he was, what use was he? She could hear the rattle in his chest, the gasp as it struggled to bring in enough air. Nyra could help but reach out for his hand, to hold on to his fragile hand and press it against her forehead. It was like she was praying to the King, to the man that would be able to change everything.
Gods, she prayed. Could he change everything? Could he make this ever looming threat of war disappear? Of course he could, but his love for his favourite daughter would ensure that it wouldn't. The first tear followed by another hit the back of his hand, a scrunch in her nose pulling at her features as the tears threatened to come thick and fast. "What is it?" He asked, tongue flicking out to wet chapped lips as light eyes fell upon his daughter.
Nyra pulled back, swiping at her cheeks as her eyes found one of the windows. She shook her head. "Nothing." She uttered gently but her voice failed her, cracking in its place as a new wave of tears threatened to rise in her eyes.
