𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍²~𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍

-Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴅ Kᴇᴇᴘ-

When brought before and questioned about her actions in front of the King, her lady mother would only respond with the very simple answer, “Twas nothing more than a warning, one he greatly deserved.”

None had further questioned the Lady fo Dragons Hall, none had felt brave enough to dare pierce through the wall of iron-forged bravado she had surrounded herself with like armour, not even the king himself. 

Moments, steel and resilient moments like those demonstrated by her mother were the ones that Balora wished more than anything that she was more like her strong Lady-mother. Born with that same impenetrable hide of bravery she possessed and wore proudly like glittering dragon scales. To never waver or hesitate in the eye of the storm for dragons never waver in the face of challenge. 

The small Greywood girl could only feel the trembling and apprehensive feeling of nervousness as it sank its claws further into her heart as she walked amongst the hallow halls of the Red Keep. Hearing the almost haunting echo of boot-cladded feet as each step matched that of her racing heart. Gone was her steadfastness, her courage, and fortitude; chased away like hare scared by the mad barking of incessant hounds and replaced by the fluttering feeling of unrelenting worry. 

Balora, despite her heasitations and anxious heart, found her mind utterly enthralled by the wonders around her as she was guided by the gentle hand of Ser Maevor through the Red Keep. Doleful eyes were eager as they absorbed all that they could, keen to the utterly strange but mesmerizing sight that was the nest of the three headed dragon. 

Towering stone walls that seemingly kissed the heavens the longer Balora searched, beautifully constructed plains of stained glass windows that in each window depicted the different events of Aegon’s Conquest, painting the vast halls in a multitude of fractured of light. Tapestries hung pridefully on every other wall, imagery of Old Valyria and Westeros captured by golden and crimson thread upon heavy clothes of rich obsidian and pearlescent creme. Opulence dripping like fine wine from every inch of the Castle’s walls. 

It was a strange yet enchanting sight for Balora, used to the simple but fulfilling ways of the North were grandeur such as that of the South was seen as something frivolous than necessary, yet it called to the childish part of her that desired to have her dreams of maidens and knights like those of the ballads fulfilled. Here in a castle made by conquers, Balora felt as if she stepped into a whole other world, one where all the stories and great songs she had loved so dearily had come to life and made real by flesh and stone. Giddiness like a heady wine soon began to replace the sicking dread she had once felt as she found herself beguiled by her surroundings. 

Through the graces of the gods or mayhaps by their utter scorn, it did not take them long before both knight and lady were found by the determined forces that were her mother’s ladies, flocking and crowing together in a cluster of gauzy silks and heavenly perfumed air. The leader of flock noticing them first being her mother’s must trusted of her ladies and a distant cousin, the Lady Anora Greywood. Upon seeing the pair, she was quick to march over to them in quic and sharp footsteps, her lovely face of glowing sienna slowly morphing from relief to displeasure upon seeing the monstrous state of the young Greywood maiden. Her lavender eyes taking in the the sploches of soot that stained her skin, windswept locks, and the pungent smell of dragon that clung around her like a heavy cloud; appearing more like beast than a lady. 

“Why is it that every time I find you, you are nothing but filthy?” Lady Anora tutted as she came to stand before Balora, her face wrinkled in apperant displeasure but her eyes glowed with unrestrained affection and amusement towards the grinning young girl.