Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Taryn Baratheon was four when blood first touched her innocent hands. Her skin was no longer pure, neither was her heart. All children learn the fragility of life in time, Taryn learned of it through the sacrifice of a tiny bird.
The creatures always circled King's Landing as vultures searched for the dead. "The little birds are always looking for trouble," Cersei Lannister warned as they walked through the gardens. Taryn nestled close in her mother's arms. "Watch your step or they'll be waiting in your shadows all your life."
When she was set down, her feet steady on the ground, Taryn raced on ahead. Her long skirts clung to her little legs, blonde curls bouncing behind her. The air was thick with sweet pollen and fruit, signs of a happy summer. Moss grew between the bricks on the cobbled ground, pushing the stone in uneven directions — Taryn skipped over them easily, pausing to gaze at the bumblebees nestling inside tight flower heads and ladybirds crawling across bright green leaves. She wished it could only be her and mother in the gardens forever. Taryn slipped out of her mother's line of sight to steal berries and press as many as possible into her mouth, licking sweet juice from her fingers to keep her dainty snack a secret.
The Princess came to a sudden halt, almost tripping forwards in her haste, when she found her path blocked by a tiny bird — a bundle of brown feathers dappled with grey and white and red. Its body was horribly twisted, but it was still moving. Taryn took the bird in her hands, scarlet smeared across her fingers. She did not want the poor creature to be damaged further. The bird squeaked desperately and tried to flap its broken wings.
Taryn brought the bird against her chest, cupped with both of her delicate hands, and ran back across the path she had come down. The princess took the bird to her mother, who was quick to scold her child for touching a dying animal. "But can't the maesters help?" Taryn's eyes were wide and glassy, her mouth warped into a mournful frown. (Taryn's mother always had the right answers — she was the smartest person in King's Landing.)
Cersei laughed. It was not a cold sound, more of a marvel at her daughter's naivety. "The Maesters can only help us, sweet girl. They cannot help a little bird." They always look for trouble.
Taryn huffed. She did not believe her mother's response to be an acceptable excuse. "Why?"
The Queen motioned for one of their guards to come over and take the bird's frail body from Taryn's hands, which became a struggle with the little girl's reluctance. "We're all built very differently. A dove is not a wolf, and a stag is not a lion."
"But it will die!"
"All things do, eventually." Cersei ushered forth two handmaidens that walked behind them. "Now you have blood all over you — go and get cleaned up. There is no use in helping the dying while the living are still here."
