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—❝ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴄᴏꜱᴛ❞
As a young girl, she had quickly come to know this while living in the Flea Bottom of the most reputable city in all of Westeros. She'd been surrounded by the likes of orphans, bastards, killers, and rapers. As quickly as she'd begun to make friends, they'd leave for the wall, or slave their days away doing meaningless chores for those among the higher class.
There was a hierarchy, she noticed, even among the simplest of complexes. Flea Bottom was no different. Power brought order to even the most chaotic places. Their glowering city was no exception, and King's Landing had thrived on the concept long before she'd even been born.
It was the only home she had been old enough to remember, despite it's inconsistencies. It was nothing more than a shiny mirage of what life might entail, had one been born into a different name or house. Each carried a different level of potential amongst the Red Keep: Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell, Stark. It was a certain potential the girl had never dreamed of knowing.
—❝ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ,
ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴡᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴡ❞
She knew that from above and filled with fear, the highborns would forever look down upon her people. They were deemed unworthy, all for circumstances out of their control.
The woman felt a rage building in her chest as her thoughts rang with truth. She was nothing but a woman confined by the restraints of class.
It infuriated her. Growing into a decent woman staring up at what she was furthest from. Fancying all the pretty ladies and their pretty clothes. Their long shiny hair and intricate styles against the wills of her curly bundles and bronze complexion. Instead of wasting her days dreaming of a life she could never own, she turned to learning.
Her mother and grandfather had done all the damage, inspiring a passion that had surpassed their generations. The world simply offered more than the woman could imagine, and a good book allowed her to explore those far away places that typically were just out of reach.
Looping a finger in a nearly black ringlet that hung at her shoulders, she shrieked away from the rain that poured over a bustling King's Landing. Pulling at her now wet hair, she quickly twisted it into a neat braid, and ignored the loose wet strands that clung to the sides of her face.
