PTOLEMAEA || ASOIAF

PROLOGUE

Rhaenys could hear the faint cheers that rang all throughout the Sept, like a taunt that relished in her misfortune.

The heavy sound of metal grew louder and louder, footsteps hurried and rushed. She could feel the uneasiness roll off of him in waves but she paid him no mind, kneeling to the Mother instead and shutting her eyes in prayer. Her toddlers squealed in excitement and chased each other, blissfully unaware of their mother's turmoil.

Mother, Mother, Mother, she pleaded, for what, she could not say.

Perhaps it was a plea to spare her from the humiliation of her failure, a plea to a God to spare her children from any horrors they might endure now that their protector was dead.

She rose from her knees.

"We can not stay here," he spoke with urgency, he gripped her upper arm gently. When she gave no response, instead peering up at the statue of her one and only true God, he gripped her chin with his calloused fingers, turning her gaze away from the Mother.

His eyes were ocean strong, tides of light silver mixed with his sapphire eyes, a delicate mixture of color that hypnotized her. His eyes pleaded with her, trying to make her understand the words he had just spoken.

"We still have time," his voice was softer now, as if scared that anything louder than a whisper might frighten her. "I have some friends at the docks that could help us. We can get on a boat and leave while they still march their way into the city."

A myriad of emotions weighed down her gaze, mingling in the depths of her eyes – grief, anger, a profound sadness, and most of all, fear. She knew he could read them all, his own gaze conveying a delicate comprehension, yet she harbored a doubt, a whisper of uncertainty if he truly comprehended the full extent of her turmoil.

Rhaenys repositioned herself, turning her body to squarely face him, their closeness allowing her chest to softly meet his. The grip of Edric's fingers on her chin relinquished its hold, replaced by the tender ascent of his hands, which cradled her face with a warmth that had grown familiar, an unspoken gesture of tenderness that had woven itself into their friendship.

In the charged silence that enveloped them, words remained unspoken, their eyes locked in a shared exploration of one another's faces.

At last, she broke the stillness, her voice a gentle exhalation that carried the weight of fatigue, "No," her head shook slowly, "We – I must remain," her gaze momentarily drifted, a fleeting retreat from his searching eyes.

"Rhaenys," his voice flowed like velvet, "Your father — Her response was an icy glance, cutting him off before he could finish. "Rhaegar is already here, Robert is dead. There's nothing holding us here. Let us take the children and leave," his plea held a touch of desperation.

A stern resolve filled her gaze as she met his eyes. "No," her tone was unwavering, carrying a determination that refused to yield. "I won't flee like he did. I choose to remain," she affirmed with a subtle nod, her words more an affirmation of her own decision than a response to Edric.

He exhaled an impatient sigh, his frustration evident, and released his gentle hold on her face.

Edric paces restlessly, his steps tracing a circuit between her and the statue of the Father. The rhythmic movements produce the metallic clinking of his armor, a jarring sound that grates against her senses, an unpleasant sound that she has grown to detest ever since she heard the Mountain's heavy armor rattle loudly as he marched towards her mother. As Edric's armor reverberates, it manages to drown the faint cheers emanating from beyond — yet another sound she loathes; but that's mostly because she hates the man they are cheering for, she rather her lover stopped pacing back and forth and held still.