✶|𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺|✶ 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯

✶Chapter 2✶

――✴✯✴――

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

――✴✯✴――

Year 122

Westeros

Starfall , Dorne

A few more months have passed since Serena came into this world. Her little body has evolved and now she can sit, babble and crawl around the corners of the nursery, which is already a great accomplishment compared to some time ago.

But the only things that changed were not just in physical aspects, Serena gained a handmaiden to take care of all her needs. So she didn't spend as much time alone as she used to.

Elyara, had arrived just a few months ago, shortly after the sudden disappearance of the woman who once cared for the young Dayne. The woman didn't literally disappear, Serena suspects that she just stopped being in charge of her.

 With soft brown eyes and dark hair always neatly tied back, Elyara had an air of quiet gentleness. She moved with grace, never raising her voice, always humming soft lullabies that seemed to soothe even the fussiest moments. 

Of course there were still servants who came in to clean the nursery and so on. Like the ones who were currently doing this while little Serena sat watching in her crib. 

Elyara went out to get some fruit porridge for the tiny Lady, and in the meantime, the servants came in to clean up.

The two women began to gossip about a topic that caught Serena's attention.

"Did you hear about the Green Queen's latest outburst? They say she won't even speak to Princess Rhaenyra anymore..." the women with brown hair says whispering.

"Who can blame her? With the king so sick and that... wedding. Marrying her own uncle!"

"That's the Targaryen way, they say... Still, it shocked half the realm. The princess loses her husband one moon, and by the next, she's already wed to the Rogue Prince." The black-haired servant responds.

"I heard the king didn't even attend. He's too weak now, barely able to rise from his bed."

"His sickness worsens by the day. Some say the gods are cursing him for all these quarrels within his family."

Serena's small hands gripped the corners of the blanket she was sitting on, as she processed information from the servants' gossip.

If Viserys's health continued to decline, the struggle for power between the greens and the blacks would only intensify. 

"That means the dance hasn't started yet ...I'm here, right in the heart of the chaos, a pawn in a game I barely understand."

The women continue their whispered conversation.

"It's no wonder, with all the trouble between his children and that Hightower lot. People say he's rotting away, bit by bit."

The servant with darker hair takes a cloth and dips it in water to clean the window panes while the other finishes cleaning the floor.

"And when he's gone? What then? War? I feel like the greens and blacks will fight over the throne until there's nothing left."

"But we can be thankful Dorne has nothing to do with their problems. We're far from their wars and schemes."