The Queen is dead and her best friend is angry.
Elowen Redfort, Queen Aemma's Lady-in-waiting and closest confidant is in the room when the queen is murdered. Driven by her grief Elowen finds herself in the King's chambers intending to confron...
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Since the King's admission in the gardens Elowen had taken to avoiding him. She couldn't stand the thought of seeing him knowing he would be marrying a child, but then again Elowen supposed Aemma had been eleven on her wedding day. It was still ridiculous to her. The disgust had bloomed like weeds in her heart, spreading like vines and tangling in her mind. Though at its root Elowen supposed there might be a drop of jealousy. Venomous like a manticore's sting burning through the veins at an agonizing pace until reaching the heart.
Rhaenyra had acted as a balm to Elowen's wounds, soothing Elowen's restless mind with her mere presence. If Rhaenyra had noticed a difference in the older woman's demeanor she didn't mention it, only inviting Elowen on different outings. The two had just returned from the Grand Sept when Rhaenyra had pulled the two people she was closest too to a balcony overlooking the gardens.
There in the distance were two figures walking side by side. The smaller figure was clearly a young girl, and the larger an older man. At first glance one might think they were father and daughter, but Elowen could recognize the head of silver white strands anywhere. She had seen similar features on her closest friend and the young girl she now cared for. But most recently Elowen had seen those strands of white gold in her dreams paired with a lavender gaze. The image haunted her every time she closed her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Elowen pushed her emotions away and moved toward Rhaenyra. She pressed a hand to the young teen's upper back, rubbing circles into her shoulder blade with her thumb. Rhaenyra glanced at her aunt, offering the woman a thankful smile before her attention returned to her father.
"It bothers you, does it not?" A strong, clear voice came from behind the two.
Elowen and Rhaenyra turned to see Princess Rhaenys finding a seat on a nearby bench. They had not noticed her arrival, both too caught up in their own emotions on the situation.
"My father is a king," Rhaenyra responded, her fingers idly played with her adorning rings. "It is his duty to take a new wife and strengthen his line."
"I did not ask for a lesson in politics," Princess Rhaenys interrupted. "I asked whether this bothers you."
"Laena is your daughter, Princess. Does it bother you?" Rhaenyra snapped back.
"Of course it does," Princess Rhaenys's face relaxed slightly with her admission, her eyebrows no longer pinched in frustration. Her voice took on the tone of a concerned mother. "But I understand the order of things. I'm not sure you do."
"If you mean to elicit some anger from me, you should know that you're failing, Princess."
"Quite the opposite. Whether it's to my daughter or to someone else's, your father will remarry sooner than late. His new wife will produce new heirs, and chances are better than not that noe of those will be male. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir, not you. Because that is the order of things."
