You're like a home,
Just the thought of coming back to you is warm.
〰
Standing outside the ornate doors of her chambers, I took a steadying breath and rapped twice. The door creaked open, and her handmaid welcomed me inside. Grandmother sat regally, engrossed in Baela's tales, a delicate tea cup in hand.
"Come, sister, join us for tea," Baela beckoned toward an empty seat.
"Baela, could you give us a moment?" I asked politely. She nodded, gracefully excusing herself from the room.
Grandmother set down her tea cup and turned her attention entirely to me. "Are you well, my dear? You disappeared from the hall yesterday, and when I went to your room, Aiday mentioned you were resting." Her keen eyes studied me, attempting to decipher my feelings, a skill she mastered over the years.
A soft sigh escaped my lips as I settled into a seat. "I grew weary of the whispers and accusing glances. That's why I left the festivities early." The flicker of emotions across her face was swift, but I caught it.
"People always find something to talk about. Learn to ignore them," she advised her tone monotone, as if understanding but unwilling to delve into the matter.
"But who granted them the right to speculate about my lineage?" Emotion crept into my voice, and her expressions remained stoic. The reality I had tried to avoid the entire night became clear as her silence confirmed the bitter truth.
"It's true, isn't it?" I pressed, and she looked down, unable to meet my gaze. "So, I am a bas-"
"MAENYA!" The interruption, delivered with a stern and forceful tone, echoed through the chambers, signaling that the conversation had touched upon a topic of great sensitivity.
"Maenya," Grandmother began, her voice softer now, tinged with a mix of regret and understanding. "These are matters, shadows of our past, and the past is best left undisturbed. It's not a question of your worth or identity. You are my granddaughter, and that remains unchanged."
Her attempt to shield me from the harsh reality only forms tears in my eyes.
"Then who am I? Velaryon? Targaryen? Or is it Maenya Waters?" Her gaze softened at my question.
She immediately motioned me towards her open arms and this was all I needed. I ran towards her and she quickly hid me in her arms. She separated me from her and held my face in her hands.
"You are just my Maenya, My Laena's Maenya." She kissed my forehead and wiped my tears. "I want you to know that your mother loved your father." She neared me again.
Rhaenys sighed. "Maenya," she began, choosing her words with a deliberateness that mirrored the gravity of the situation, "you are Daemon Targaryen's daughter, blood of House Targaryen, intertwined with the legacy of dragons."
Her response left me both worried and anxious. "Am I not Velaryon, then?" I pressed, feeling the urgency of my quest for identity.
"You bear the blood of both," she replied, her voice steady. "A union that history chose to cloak in shadows."
The revelation left me grappling with a mosaic of emotions. I was neither wholly Velaryon nor purely Targaryen but a blend of both, a living testament to the intricate interplay of history and destiny.
"Then why the whispers?" I asked, a mix of confusion and frustration bubbling within me.
Rhaenys reached out, placing a comforting hand on mine. "Maenya, the world is often unkind to those who walk a path less traveled. The whispers are born from fear, from the unknown. Embrace your heritage, for you are a dragon with wings that span both Velaryon and Targaryen skies."
Her words resonated, a soothing balm to the turmoil within. As I absorbed the complexities of my identity, I realized that the name Maenya Waters wasn't a mark of shame but a symbol of the unique tapestry that defined me.
"Velaryon, Targaryen, or Waters," I whispered to myself, embracing the truth that I was all these and more. The world might whisper, but as a dragon soaring through the skies of my destiny, I would determine my own name and legacy.
The feast unfolded, a sea of faces and meaningless conversations that failed to capture my interest. I found myself yearning for an escape, a respite from the tedium that enveloped the royal table.
"Zīrȳ," Baela whispered, tugging at my arm. "I'm bored. Let's take a stroll." Her pout mirrored my sentiments precisely—I needed a way out, a moment away from the prying eyes and whispered doubts. A stroll with Baela might be just the diversion I sought.
I nodded in agreement, and Baela made a casual announcement to those at the royal table. Together, we gracefully navigated through the crowd, attempting to blend in seamlessly.
Moving through the throng, especially with the weight of questioned lineage on my shoulders, wasn't a task I relished. To quell my nerves, I began reciting verses from a cherished poem, the words a shield against the unease that threatened to surface.
The crowd, seemingly parting for the next dance, created a path for us. "You stay here, I'll go dance," Baela declared, leaving me to continue my recitation as she disappeared into the center of the lively hall.
Backing away further, I immersed myself in the rhythmic flow of the verses.
"As dawn breaks, the weirwood stands tall,
Crimson leaves in the morning's thrall,
A promise whispered in nature's call-"
Before I could conclude, my recitation was unexpectedly completed by another voice, seamlessly adding the final line.
"In the light of day, where shadows fall."
I looked up, surprised, to see a figure approaching. They continued to recite the lines of the cherished poem that echoed in my heart. The familiarity of the verses, now shared with a stranger, created a momentary connection, and I watched as they moved closer, reciting the words that had become a refuge for my troubled thoughts.
"Are you familiar with Dawn's promise?" I couldn't help but smile, finding a kindred spirit in this unexpected encounter.
"Of course," he replied, his tone carrying the weight of shared appreciation for the verses. "However, I think I prefer Heartwood's lullaby over Dawn's promise."
"Heartwood's lullaby," I mused, intrigued by his choice. "And what draws you to Heartwood's lullaby?" I inquired, curious to unravel the layers of meaning behind his preference.
His gaze lingered for a moment, as if contemplating the essence of the lullaby before he spoke. "Heartwood's lullaby, to me, embodies a sense of continuity. It's a reminder of the enduring spirit within the heart of the weirwoods, a connection to the past and a promise for the future."
His words carried a quiet wisdom, and I found myself drawn into the thoughtful narrative he wove. In that moment, the boisterous feast seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the resonance of our conversation.
A subtle appraisal of his appearance followed. "Ser, you have an impeccable taste, I must say." His posture spoke of a warrior's training, a discipline I have witnessed more than I will admit.
His response came with a reciprocal compliment. "So do you. Zīrȳ Velaryon, isn't it?" He observed me with a hint of curiosity, his eyes narrowing.
"Zīrȳ, in Valyrian, means sister... perhaps you were aware." A playful remark slipped from my lips.
A smile graced his features. "Just trying to prolong the conversation."
"Allow me to apologize in advance for my next question. I must admit, I'm uncertain about your identity." The admission brought a twinge of embarrassment.
A hearty chuckle escaped him. "No need for apologies. I'd be delighted to introduce myself. I am Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell." His revelation widened my eyes, realizing the significance of the noble presence before me.
Cregan Stark's admission lingered in the air, a revelation that carried the weight of the North and the storied history of House Stark. Winterfell, a name synonymous with strength and resilience, suddenly stood before me in the form of its lord.
"I must confess, my lord, the honor is mine," I replied, my embarrassment now tempered with a newfound awareness of the esteemed company. "To meet the Lord of Winterfell is a privilege indeed."
Cregan's demeanor held a blend of Northern austerity and a genuine warmth that seemed to transcend the formalities of noble introductions. His eyes, like the ancient weirwoods, hinted at the wisdom forged in the harsh landscapes of the North.
He inclined his head, a silent acknowledgment of the sentiment. "The pleasure is mine, Princess."
With a final nod of acknowledgment, I knew it was time to gracefully retreat from this unexpected encounter with the Lord of Winterfell.
"I shall return to my table, my lord," I stated, a gracious smile accompanying my words.
Cregan Stark offered a courteous bow, a silent understanding passing between us. "Until our paths cross again, Princess Maenya."
I turned to make my way back to the royal table, I couldn't help but feel the lingering resonance of our conversation.
As I sat back down at our royal table, my grandmother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, couldn't hide her protective nature. She leaned in and asked, "Who was by your side, Maenya?"
"I had a word with Lord Stark, Grandmother," I replied. "It was an unexpected meeting, and we ended up talking about poetry."
Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, signaling for more details. "What did Lord Stark have to say during your talk?"
"He likes 'Heartwood's Lullaby'," I explained. "It's a poem that speaks about strength. It was a short but interesting conversation."
Rhaenys looked thoughtful. "Stumbling upon someone who shares common interests has the power to turn even the most dull events into something pleasant, doesn't it?"
I nodded, acknowledging her observation.
Growing weary of the silent solitude, with Baela consumed by the dance and revelry, I made the decision to take my leave and retire to my chambers. The relentless whispers and doubts that lingered in the air had begun to weigh on me.
Politely excusing myself from the vibrant atmosphere of the Great Hall, I sought refuge in the quiet corridors where the torchlight cast flickering shadows on the stone walls. The journey led me almost instinctively toward the cellar, where the imposing skull of Black Dread held a silent vigil.
Turning a corner, I stumbled upon a familiar figure standing in contemplation before the massive skull. The torchlight accentuated the determined features of Aemond Targaryen, his presence adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the quiet scene.
As I silently observed, not wanting to disrupt his solitude, my steps betrayed me. Unseen in the dimly lit corridors, I tripped on the trailing fabric of my gown, landing ungracefully on the cold floor. The unexpected sound echoed through the corridor, drawing Aemond's attention away from his thoughts.
He turned toward me, his gaze capturing the flickering torchlight. In that moment, amid the shadows and the imposing presence of Black Dread's skull, our paths converged in an yet another unexpected encounter.
Aemond's eyes, once lost in contemplation, now focused on the scene unfolding before him. The flickering torchlight played on the curves of Black Dread's skull, casting shadows that seemed to dance in tandem with the unexpected turn of events.
Regaining my composure, I met Aemond's gaze with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. "My apologies, Your grace. It seems the corridors have conspired against my attempt at a quiet retreat."
Aemond's lips curled into a faint smile, the gravity of the moment momentarily lifted. "No need for apologies, Princess. The castle's corridors are known to be treacherous, especially in the presence of flowing gowns."
His casual remark elicited a genuine laugh from me, the tension dissipating like the flickering shadows. As the laughter echoed through the corridor, Aemond's smile widened, and a warmth seemed to envelop the space between us.
"No harm done, Princess," Aemond walked toward me with a twinkle in his eye. "The castle's stones have witnessed more graceful stumbles."
As I composed myself, Aemond, with a graceful movement, bent at the knees in a chivalrous gesture. "Allow me," he said, offering a hand to assist me in rising.
Accepting the gesture with a grateful smile, I took Aemond's hand, feeling the strength in his grip. The torchlight played on the contours of his dragonrider armory, casting a regal silhouette against the backdrop of the dimly lit corridor.
"Thank you," I expressed, appreciating the ease with which he extended his assistance.
Aemond's gaze met mine, the momentary connection lingering in the air. "It's my pleasure."
I took a moment to observe his dragonrider attire, the sigils and emblems revealing the essence of his purpose. Yet, I needed confirmation. "Are you headed to the Dragon Pit?" His silent nod affirmed my assumption, and for a brief second, I hoped he would extend an invitation.
As his gaze returned to the ancient skull, I felt a flicker of disappointment. The silence stretched, urging me to voice what lingered unspoken. "Wouldn't you invite me to join you?" The question hung in the air, the torchlight casting dancing shadows that mirrored the uncertainty between us.
Aemond turned to face me once more, his expression thoughtful. The torchlight painted shifting patterns on the stone walls, and for a moment, the air felt charged with unspoken possibilities.
Aemond's gaze held a sincerity that matched his earlier offer. However, after a thoughtful pause, he gently declined. "As much as I would cherish your company, Princess, but the hour is late and not suitable to stroll together."
His consideration was evident, and though I appreciated the care in his decision, a tinge of disappointment flickered within. "Of course," I responded with a gracious smile, "I understand. Another time, perhaps."
As Aemond nodded, the torchlight played upon his features, casting a soft glow. "Indeed. When the moons are kinder and the hour more favorable," he said with a gentle sincerity. His gaze held a warmth that seemed to linger.
"I apologize, but I will be taking my leave now," Aemond continued, breaking the moment. He then offered, "Do you want me to escort you to your chambers?"
Grateful for the offer, I shook my head appreciatively. "Thank you, Aemond. I'll find my way to my chambers on my own."
As he nodded understandingly, I bid him goodnight and watched as he made his way down the corridor.
"Aemond?" I called, a sudden hesitation in my voice.
My voice made him stop immediately at which I was surprised because I was sure my voice wasn't very loud but still reached him.
He turned back, his gaze meeting mine with a questioning look. "Yes?"
Caught in a moment of uncertainty, I hesitated before expressing my desire. "I want to explore beyond the castle, in the streets of King's Landing." Stepping closer to Aemond, I looked into his eyes. "Will you accompany me?"
His gaze remained solely on me, revealing a softness in his expression that hinted at a vulnerability he rarely showed. Despite the hesitation, he let out a sigh. "If you ask for something after calling me by my name, saying no might prove difficult."
A smile played on my lips. "So, is that a yes? Will you be my escort, or should I seek a different companion?"
Aemond considered for a moment before offering a suggestion, "Change into something simple, remove all the jewels, and cloak yourself in something discreet. Meet me here after a little while."
Following his guidance, I made my way back to Maegor's Holdfast, opting for a more unassuming attire. Stripping away the extravagant jewels, I wrapped myself in a cloak that concealed my identity.
I had to sneak out of my chambers before Aiday came back. I'd asked her to fetch me some lemon tarts, knowing she'd try to stop me from leaving the castle.
Returning to the meeting spot, I found Aemond waiting, his eyes recognizing the subtle change. As I came back to our meeting point, Aemond was already there, his eyes catching the subtle alterations in my appearance. He glanced at my outfit, appearing uncertain.
"This is the plainest dress I have," I said, adjusting the fabric at my side. It was a simple green gown with a thin belt at my waist, complemented by a plain blue cloak resting on my shoulders, its hood left down. My hair remained in the bun styled for the feast, as I hadn't had the time to change it.
"This cloak won't do," Aemond declared, his fingers working to undo the strings that held it in place. With a swift motion, he removed the cloak from my shoulders, allowing it to drop to the floor. From a nearby surface, he picked a folded cloth that unfurled into a black cloak.
"Is this your cloak?" I asked.
Aemond nodded, the dark fabric flowing as he draped the new cloak over my shoulders. It was a seamless exchange, and the black cloak now enveloped me.
"Much better," he remarked, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Now, we can continue without drawing unnecessary attention."
Aemond extended a courteous hand to assist me, and as I take it, the touch seemed to linger in the air.
With Aemond's approval and the newfound cloak enveloping me, we continued our exploration through the dimly lit streets of King's Landing. His hand extended in a gesture of courtesy, and as I accepted it, a subtle connection lingered in the air.
Guiding me with a firm grip, Aemond led the way, his tall figure allowing me to follow closely. Straying from the cellar's entrance, I craned my neck to see beyond his height. Arriving at the back of the dragon's skull, he steered me toward a seemingly ordinary wall.
Before I could voice my curiosity, the wall opened like a door, unveiling a wide passage that widened my eyes in astonishment. A hidden passage. Excitement surged within me at the revelation.
Aemond navigated the concealed corridors with the familiarity of one who had traversed them countless times. Subtle light filtered through small holes in the walls, casting a dim glow on our clandestine journey. His presence was both reassuring and exhilarating, and the nature of our journey added a layer of excitement to the night.
Emerging in a secluded corner away from the city lights, Aemond released my hand. Turning towards me, he gently lifted the strands of hair that had escaped my updo, securing them behind my ear. He pulled the cloak's hood over my head, carefully tucking every silver strand inside. The hood, slightly oversized, drooped over my eyes, prompting him to make adjustments.
"Don't remove the hood," he gestured, indicating the brightly lit streets. Understanding his intent, I moved towards it as he walked alongside me.
↞↞↞⋅⊰⋅•⚬☽☾☀☽☾⚬•⋅⊱⋅↠↠↠
As we stepped out into the lively streets, the vibrant sounds and colors of King's Landing enveloped us. The hood, a shield from prying eyes, added a layer of anonymity to our journey.
I let her stroll on her own while I just followed her closely. We moved through the bustling thoroughfares with a little difficulty as the streets were crowded with people. My cloak draped over her acted as a disguise, concealing her identity as we blended into the diverse tapestry of the night.
Around us, the market stalls displayed an array of wares, street performers captivated onlookers, and the enticing aromas from food vendors permeated the air. Her pace was really slow as she was trying to take in everything that was happening around her.
Under the grand quilt of the night sky, I guided Maenya through the intricate streets of King's Landing, where the air buzzed with a mix of exotic scents and the vibrant energy of the market.
"So, this is Flea Bottom?" Maenya observed, her eyes a mix of fascination and caution.
I nodded, my lone eye reflecting the market's ambient glow. "Indeed, Flea Bottom. A place where the city's heartbeat follows a different rhythm."
The market unfolded in a vibrant display of colors and sounds. Merchants enthusiastically hawked their wares, and the aroma of street food filled the air. Maenya, in her simple but flowing gown, drew curious glances from the locals.
Navigating through narrow alleys and bustling stalls, I shared tales of the peculiarities on display. The streets pulsed with the lively energy of the city, and we moved through the crowd with practiced ease.
Arriving at Silk Street, the atmosphere shifted from Flea Bottom's rugged charm to a more refined ambiance.
"Silk Street," I explained, "where the chaos of Flea Bottom meets the city's elegance. A bridge between two worlds."
Maenya marveled at the intricate fabrics and dazzling jewelry. She stopped at some stalls and rummaged through the things, her fingers tracing the delicate embroidery of the fabrics and the glinting jewels on display.
I made a conscious effort to keep pace with her in the bustling crowd, avoiding any unwanted attention from the guards. Observing from a distance, I slipped into the shadows as the guards approached, my eyepatch made recognizing me easy for the guards. Meanwhile, she engaged with a vendor, her voice carrying over the lively market.
"How much for this?" she inquired, prompting a response from the vendor.
"Two silver stags," he replied. However, she pulled out a gold coin and handed it to him. The glint in the vendor's eye at the sight of gold was evident as he tried to indulge her in more of his articles, but she remained firm, choosing only the desired piece of jewelry, perhaps a necklace.
As the guards moved on, I approached her, and she discreetly pocketed the purchased jewelry. "What did you buy?" I asked.
"Just a necklace," she nonchalantly replied, tucking it into the folds of her dress. She then started walking, and I found myself involuntarily following.
"I never imagined I'd find myself here," she confessed, her eyes captivated by a display of embroidered fabrics.
I chuckled, my eye catching the moonlight's glint. "Sometimes, stepping out of the castle walls offers a different perspective."
As we strolled through the market, she began sharing stories of her own experiences in the streets of Pentos. Her expressions conveyed a newfound openness, a departure from her usual demeanor in the Red Keep.
The night unfolded with its own rhythm, a symphony of sights and sounds woven into the fabric of our shared experience. Under the moon's gentle glow, my eye flickered with a warmth that transcended my usual stoicism.
As the night deepened, we meandered back towards the Red Keep, the echoes of the city gradually yielding to the distant hum of the castle.
A contemplative silence settled between us, occasionally interrupted by distant laughter and music from the city's taverns. My mind swirled with emotions — the thrill of the market, the enigma of Silk Street, and the unspoken connection I felt with her.
I guided her back to the tunnel where the hidden passage to the castle was and we swiftly made our way back to the cellar in the Red Keep.
Approaching the dragon's skull, I turned to her with a thoughtful expression. "Did the streets of King's Landing meet your expectations, Princess?"
Maenya smiled, a genuine curve that hadn't graced her face in days. "More than I could have imagined. Thank you, Aemond."
I nodded, tacitly acknowledging that this night held more significance than a mere stroll through the city. "If you ever wish to explore again or have any other query, you know where to find me." A smile on my face as I stopped outside her bedchambers.
She opened her mouth to say something but the door to her room opened and her handmaiden came out.
"Where have you been? I was so worried for you." She immediately took a hold of her shoulders.
"Aiday, I was just-" She cutted her words.
"You could've told me. Do you know I was panic-" Her words came to a halt as her eyes landed on me.
Aiday's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the unexpected company. Maenya shot me a quick glance, a mixture of worry and unease playing on her features.
"Your highness," Aiday greeted with a polite bow, her tone a blend of formality and thinly veiled skepticism. "Is there anything you need?"
I stepped forward, offering a courteous nod in return. "No, nothing at all. Princess Maenya and I were merely exploring the city together. I wanted to ensure her safe return to the Red Keep."
Aiday's gaze sharpened, suspicion evident in her eyes. "Exploring the city at this hour?"
I sensed some tension as Maenya's eyes widened at the query. "Yes, we found it to be a unique and opportune time to experience King's Landing. The streets are less crowded, and the city has a different charm under the moonlight." The princess seemed disappointed by my answer.
Aiday's skepticism lingered, and a small frown tugged at her lips. "Well, I'm glad you both enjoyed your little adventure. But, Princess, it's late. You should retire for the night."
Maenya nodded in agreement, thanking me for escorting her to her solar. As she entered her chambers, Aiday cast a final watchful look my way. I inclined my head, acknowledging her unspoken concern, before retreating into the shadows of the corridor.
With a final nod to Aiday, I turned away, leaving the princess to the comfort of her chambers. The night had been an unexpected journey, weaving through the secrets of King's Landing, and as I made my way back to my own quarters, the echoes of our shared exploration lingered in the air.