𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 have forsworn love. For love is not a possibility for the life they currently live, only a mere fairytale a mother would tells her young children. But for...
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𝐌 𝐲 𝐌 𝐚 𝐢 𝐝 𝐞 𝐧 𝐅 𝐚 𝐢 𝐫 𝟐𝟕𝟕 𝐀𝐂 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠
Whether it was from the divine gods of old or new, or maybe by pure luck, all at once, her wishes were heard. In front of the reflection of the full mirror, under the candle light and comfort of her warm quarters, Nyrella spun around while holding a gown flush to her body. It was a light fabric of chiffon in an innocent color of white. It was fluid, yet molded with movement. The gown was perfect for the scorching temperatures for tomorrow's ventures. And most importantly, Nyrella felt beautiful in the delicate gown.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, playing with the skirt of the gown. She could not express her excitement to the point it caused her to lose sleep. A girlish smile formed on her heart-shaped lips as she twirled one last time in front of the mirror. She placed the gown on the nearby table, letting the skirt hang over the edge as the soft breeze from the window blew the fabric gently to the rhythm.
Her fingers found their way around a chalice of Dornish red, and she gladly took a sip of the sweet liquor. She hoped a drink or two would lull her to sleep and make the night move faster.
However, there was a knock on her door. Her head snapped to the crisp sound of knuckles pounding on her door, echoing through the comfortable silence in her quarters. Her brows knitted together as the interruption. She placed her chalice on the surface of her vanity, while she strolled towards the door. Her left hand grabbed the cold handle, then twisting it in a fluid motion. She pulled the door slowly, while her eyes peaked through the opening.
"Arthur? What are you doing here late into the night?" Nyrella inquired as she opened the door, just enough to see him in his entirety.
"I was hoping I could speak with you before I depart to the White Sword Tower," his voice was raspier and more tired.
Nyrella hummed as she felt the vibration of his voice. She laid her head on the door looking him up with her long lashes and large lavender eyes. "Would you like to come into my quarters? It's quite cold out here and I could offer you a drink of red," she drawled in a sweet tone.
Arthur's grip on the hilt of Dawn tightened. He tried his best not to fall prey to her siren gaze or her enchanting use of words. "Forgive me, but I must decline the generous offer. My words will be quick, so I shan't ruin the rest of your night," he told her.
"I'm all ears, Ser," she replied to him. She was a bit sad that he did not take her offer to join her inside, but knew why he did so. It would be a scandalous thing if anyone saw them late into the night, even if the intentions were innocent.
"I requested Rhaegar if I could be the one to guard you tomorrow at The Hook instead of Ser Barristan. He told me that I should ask you instead of him, so I am here to ask you," Arthur spoke much quieter than he was before. There were certain parts he said so softly, Nyrella had to lean slightly forward to catch the words.
