𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 [ 𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 ]

C H A P T E R, two

━━ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴏᴜsᴀɴᴅ, ᴜɴʙᴏʀɴ ɪᴅᴇᴀs

     HER MIND WAS FILLED TO THE BRIM WITH THE CONVERSATION EARLY THIS MORN. As soon as the clicking of Ceryse's heels came to a rest upon the cold stone floor in the halls of the Red Keep, she was already outdoors in the courtyard with her sister Alicent who had impatiently awaited her arrival for quite some time.

     Of course, Ceryse dared not to tell anyone about her accidental meeting with Prince Daemon Targaryen and instead choose to dismiss her older sister's up-heaved brow that matched her own by simply climbing into the wheel house with the help of the footman. Even in the wooden construction she had not mentioned anything further about her late-being.

     So, Alicent carefully tried herself on idle conversation as she noticed her little baby sister picking on her palm. It was a habit of her own as much as it was one of Alicent damaging her delicate cuticles.

     She did it particularly when she was uncomfortable or simply distracted, but mostly when she was anxious about harmless things. Their father always shoock his head about that scratching, trying to teach them to loose the nasty wont.

     Alas, it was in vain. No one would ever be near to the point of perfection, even if she tried a life as long as a millenia. They were bound to have an ugliness in themselves, some on their physical appearance and some in their heart. Men, for Alicent, were brutish enough and to her they do not even have a single spark off beauty in themselves. In the end, they were all the same.

     Hungry, preying beasts in want of a sweet deer to saturate their hunger on and later on present their golden trophy to their pack of rogues.

     She shuddered upon the thought alone and subconsciously scooted closer to her sister in search for a slice of her warm aura. She found great comfort in Ceryse ever since the little bundle came into the world with screams that could have come from the lungs of a dragon. A fussy one she was indeed but in the arms of their mother and herself she was always a calm, cooing one whilst their brothers and fathers were the ones that caused her discomfort.

     Alicent took pride in that.

     Ceryse hummed, her hand lifting to caress the smooth silk of the bishop-like sleeves. "Are you excited?"

     She felt her sister turn slightly until she had her eyes looking back at her in curiosity. "About what?"

     Chuckling, Ceryse brought a soft hand up and fished a tendril of Alicent's hair out of the corner of her eye. "The tournament for the new heir, silly."

     "Oh." Hesitantly, she watched Alicent laugh along, her lip stiff but the reason unknown to Ceryse. "Yes, quite. And you?"

     "I don't know."