✦ New Faith ✦ Aegon Targaryen

○ one ○

☆ Tanda POV ☆

---

The castle felt different today, as though something hung in the air-something I couldn't quite name. The corridors, usually so familiar, seemed heavier, weighted by a sense of anticipation. I had been called to break fast early, just like every other morning, yet today felt... off.

We had prayed, as always, my mother's voice droning in her usual monotone across the small table: "Thank you, Seven, for the food you have provided and for protecting us from harm."

I was silently grateful for the brevity of her prayer this morning; my eyes stung with exhaustion. I had stayed up far too late with my needlework. Sewing the sun and constellations-my little indulgence-had kept me occupied until the candle had burned down to its base. It was one of the few things that brought me peace in the lonely, towering walls of Sunglass.

As I lifted my spoon to my lips, the porridge tasted like tasteless mush, a texture more than a flavor. Despite our wealth and noble status, my family-primarily my mother, Myra-insisted we eat simply, "so that we may remain humble," she would say. But humble or not, the food was always bland.

Still, I continued to eat, reminding myself that the Father would want me to stay strong.

"Tanda?" My father's voice pulled me abruptly from my silent musings.

"Yes, Father?" I met his eyes, identical to mine-those deep, dark blue eyes that so often looked right through me.

"After breakfast, come to my study. There's something important we need to discuss." His gaze quickly flickered away, as though he couldn't bear to hold my gaze for too long.

I swallowed the rising unease that lodged itself in my throat. Instead of answering, I simply nodded and returned to my meal, though the porridge now felt like lead in my stomach.

When I had finished, I asked quietly, "May I be excused?" My voice was calm, respectful, as was expected of me.

At my father's nod, I rose and made my way to my chambers, trying to keep my steps steady, though my heart thudded in my chest.

The walk through the corridors was soothing, in a way. The stained glass windows, bathed in morning light, cast colorful reflections along the stone floors. Each window portrayed one of the Seven Faces, intricate and beautiful. My favorite was the soldier in gray armor, holding a great sword, rendered in soft violets and pale yellows. There was strength in the glass, a silent power that gave me comfort as I passed by.

The windows were one of the few things in Sunglass that truly lifted my spirits, their light contrasting the weight I often felt within these walls.

---

My chamber was a reflection of myself, or at least the self I was allowed to be. Large windows welcomed the sunlight, and a small chair sat before them where I spent hours doing needlework. The room was filled with light, the pale oak furniture and airy fabrics giving the space a softness, a relief from the formality of the rest of the castle-and the unrelenting expectations of my parents.

I moved to the bed, slowly beginning to fix the yellow blankets, carefully smoothing the star-shaped patterns embroidered on them-a tribute to our house sigil. Several pillows were scattered across the bed, and beneath one of them was my small leather-bound diary, where I often penned thoughts I dared not speak aloud. I made the bed as slowly as I could, hoping to stretch out the minutes and avoid the inevitable conversation with my father.

Lord Gandal-my father-wasn't cruel, but he was distant. He believed in duty and faith, but affection... that was something he didn't seem to understand. He wasn't a bad man, but he wasn't a father in the way I sometimes desperately wished he could be. I wondered, as I often did in my sleepless nights, what our relationship might have been like if I had been born a son. Would he have accepted me then? Would he have loved me differently? Would we have shared something more than just blood and obligation?

But I was not a son. I was Tanda, his only child, and after years of failed attempts, Gandal and Myra had been unable to conceive again. I remained the sole heir to Sweetport Sound, to the castle of Sunglass.

After lingering far longer than necessary, I reluctantly made my way to my father's study.

When I arrived, I slipped silently through the door, a talent I had long perfected.

"You wanted to speak to me, Father?" I asked softly, standing just inside the room.

He looked up from his desk, rising slowly to meet me. There was an odd heaviness to his steps, something unsettling in his demeanor.

"Yes," he said, his voice steady but distant. "I've spoken to you about your marriage prospects before. An offer has come through... from someone we cannot refuse."

The air seemed to leave the room. My heart began to race as I struggled to maintain my composure. Who could it be? Our house wasn't prestigious enough to warrant such gravity. The Great Houses wouldn't look twice at us... would they?

"Who?" I asked, my voice uncharacteristically direct. I could feel my pulse quicken, the rush of blood loud in my ears.

"Alicent Hightower and King Viserys have proposed a marriage... to Prince Aegon Targaryen, the Second of His Name."

The world seemed to tilt. The words felt surreal, like a dream I couldn't wake from. I wasn't upset, exactly, but stunned-shocked into silence. The Targaryens? Why would they choose me?

"I don't understand," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Why would they choose someone like me? We are nobility, yes, but not even close to the Targaryens. They are dragonriders!" I could hear my voice rising in disbelief.

My father gave me a sharp look, urging silence.

"Alicent believes having a house so devoted to the Faith of the Seven at court will be beneficial. And..." He hesitated, then added, "She says Aegon has been led astray, and she thinks a religious mind like yours could help guide him."

I stared at him, my mind blank, overwhelmed. The reality of it all pressed down on me like a weight I wasn't ready to bear. "When?" I managed to ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"We leave for King's Landing in three days. Ask the servants to start packing." He paused, then added, "You may go now."

I nodded stiffly, my legs moving on instinct as I all but fled the room, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and dread.

The moment I reached my chamber, I threw a blanket down before the window and collapsed onto it, staring out at the sky. My eyes stung with unshed tears, though I couldn't quite name what I was feeling-fear? Resentment? Loneliness? All I knew was that my life, as I had known it, was over.