"NEVER UNDERESTIMATE A DAUGHTER'S GRIEF.."
"IT CAN ACCOMPLISH MANY GREATER THINGS.."
"IT CAN BEND KINGDOM'S FROM THE INSIDE..."
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boun·ty
/ˈboun(t)ē/
noun
1. a sum paid to encourage trade.
"Calling him a bounty was her way of saying h...
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"TO THE SEA WE BELONG, AND TO THE SEA WE RETURN.."
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FIVE WEEKS LATER.
Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Sweet sweet Laena Velaryon, dead. Her unborn son, also un-named, also dead. Her husband, Daemon Targaryen, cold and seemingly unfazed by the news of his wife's death. Her young daughters, Rhaena and Baela Targaryen, were distraught and completely heartbroken by the loss of their Mother. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Like any normal piece of gossip, the news of their deaths had spread like a wildfire throughout Driftmark.
The first screams came from Laena's old nanny, the fragile old woman crying at the news of the young girl she helped raise being dead. Then came her Mother's screams, so raw and powerful that the dragons flying above whined and howled in sadness at the sounds. What followed it was the loud smashing and crashing of things being thrown around her Father's locked office.
There was no news yet of how Laenor had reacted to the news, it had been radio silent on his end⎯which was concerning. Nor did they really know how Jocelyn would react when the news finally hit her ears. All that they knew was that all of House Velaryon was in disarray at the news of Laena Velaryon and her unborn son's death. Only the gods would know how they would react when news of her passing hit King's Landing.
⎯¤⚔️¤⎯
Anxiously counting down the minutes before her lessons were over, she was worried that her Mother hadn't checked in on her just yet. At least once she would check in, preferably when she started embroidery. She'd make a remark about her not taking Septa Colera's lessons seriously, press a kiss to her forehead, then leave. But, she didn't show up at her usual time. It always happens. But, now it didn't. It unnerved her, the sudden shift in her normal schedule. It made her skin crawl.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she turns her eyes back to her horrible embroidered seahorse. It was shit. But, it was better than most of her work. Fitting the urge to look back at the door, she turns her eyes onto Septa Colera. A displeased look on the older woman's face. Sheepishly smiling, an apology is on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it back. If she apologizes, she'd get scolded for focusing more on her Mother's lack of appearance than her lessons.
"You are dismissed, Lady Jocelyn." Septa Colera nods, "Go on now."
"Thank you, Septa Scolera."
"It is not an issue, my sweet girl. This is what I am here for." Septa Colera smiles softly, "Keep on praising, do not give up on embroidery just yet."
Bolting out of the room without another word, she furrows her brows in confusion as she walks down the hall, the hushed whispers fill the air. But, she does not understand why there were whispers, or what they were about. Licking her bottom lip, the sudden sound of loud cries fills her ears, she stops. Eyes wide in panic and her mouth slightly open in shock. What was wrong? What had happened? Picking up her skirt, she marches down the hall, frantically looking for her parents.
