"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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"A DEBT IN NEED OF PAYMENT..."
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Whimpering into Helaena's shoulder, the older girl awkwardly pats her on the back, unsure of how to comfort the younger girl. The gash on her wound had stopped bleeding, but the dried blood that remained only made the wound look all the more grizzly. Letting out a small cry as the Maester daps her hand with a wet rag, Helaena flinches at her cry, turning her head away. Looking up at Alicent, the older woman offers her a sympathetic look.
Looking down at her wound, the wound was swollen and red. The skin of her palm was broken and deep, so deep that she could see the muscles in the palm of her hand. Hearing doors open and slam shut, she flinches at the sound, pulling away from Healena. Looking for her parents, she sees them descending the stairs, panicked looks on their faces. She whimpers, wanting to bolt into their arms and cry and cry until she cannot anymore.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Her father shouts, entering the hall.
"Baela! Rhaena!" Her mother shouts, rushing to the sobbing girls.
"Papa!" She cries, her voice shaking with tears.
"Oh my gods! Jocelyn! What happened to my sweetling?" He shouts, rushing towards her.
"There was a fight! I⎯I tried to stop it! But, I wasn't good enough!" She hiccups, "I tried to do what you taught me, but⎯I⎯I didn't do it right and now Aemond is hurt! And I hurt my hand! And⎯I tried to stop it, Papa!"
Crouching down in front of her, he cups her face in his hands, wiping away the tears rolling down her cheeks. Pressing a soft kiss on her forehead, he looks at her hand, a dark look instantly taking over the concern. Looking back at the Maester, silent tears rolled down her cheeks as the Maester finished her stitches, snipping off the last of the string. Staring at the stitches, the pain in her hands still there, only much more dull than before. All thanks to the heavy dose of the milk of the poppy, he gave her. She licks her bottom lip, more tears falling down her cheeks.
Offering the young girl a sympathetic look, she could feel everyone's eyes drawn to her and Aemond. She could practically feel the questions floating in their heads, who did this to them and why? Turning her head to the side, she shifts her eyes to Aemond, the boy staring in the fireplace with his one eye. All she can see is the side of his face. His white curls stained with dirt and blood from the fight. Her bottom lip trembles as he refuses to even look at her. Was he mad at her?
"Will she be alright?" Her father asks, pulling her from her thoughts.
"She will live, though it will leave a scar and I do not mean just on the skin. I fear there may be permanent damage to the nerves." Maester Mellos explains, "Give her milk of the poppy for the pain that will follow in the days to come. We will see how it heals."
"Thank you, Maester Mellos." Her father thanks, bowing his head in respect.
"What of my son? The eye, it will heal, will it not Maester?" Alicent questions, her voice shaky.
