89 AC. The Red Keep.
Twilight was slowly descending upon King's Landing, painting the waters of Blackwater Bay in deep crimson and lilac tones. In the chambers of Princess Viserra, shadows reigned, broken only by the warm glow of a few candles in heavy bronze candlesticks and the dying embers in the hearth. The mistress of the room herself stood before a tall mirror - a gift from Corlys - critically examining her reflection. She wore a dress of thick, dark blue silk, embroidered with silver thread along the collar - modest enough not to draw unnecessary attention from the rare evening passersby in the courtyard, yet still underscoring her status as a princess. The two months that had passed since those memorable fleet drills had flown by for Viserra like a single day, filling her life with an unfamiliar, almost frightening anticipation of these brief evening hours.
Rhaenys, settled on a wide daybed by the window, lazily ran her fingers over the hem of her riding cloak, watching her aunt's every movement with a poorly concealed smirk. At fifteen years of age, the king's granddaughter possessed a perceptiveness that many members of the Small Council would envy, and she had learned to read the changes in Viserra's mood with little effort.
"If you continue to tighten that lace so fiercely, Viserra, you will simply deprive yourself of the ability to breathe before you even cross the threshold of your chambers," Rhaenys remarked with a chuckle, leaning back against the cushions. "Or do you hope to impress Lord Velaryon with your capacity to do without air? I assure you, as a sailor, he won't be surprised by that, they are used to all kinds of storms on their ships."
Viserra turned sharply toward her niece, her silver-gold hair, not yet styled, cascading over her shoulders. A faint but distinct flush crept onto the princess's cheeks, which she unsuccessfully tried to hide behind a mask of her usual royal coldness.
"I am simply making myself presentable, Rhaenys. A king's daughter cannot afford to look untidy, even if she is merely going out for an evening stroll to breathe some fresh air before bed. And you know perfectly well that my meetings with Lord Corlys are of an entirely proper nature."
"Oh, of course," Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Entirely proper. Which is precisely why, for two months now, you have cast aside all official titles and call each other simply by your names the moment you are alone. And it is precisely why you grow pale every time his flagship drops anchor in the harbor. Viserra, you can deceive anyone at this court, even the venerable septas, but not me. The godswood has become your secret place, and you look forward to these meetings more than to any grand event at court."
Viserra sighed, realizing that denial was pointless. She turned back to the mirror and began to carefully sort through her heavy locks, trying to weave them into a simple yet elegant braid. It was indeed difficult for her to hide the anxiety that grew stronger with each passing time. Since the very day she and Corlys had struck a silent agreement to converse without the oppressive conventionalities of court etiquette, their secret trysts had turned into a sort of necessity. In these conversations, there were no endless bows and flattering speeches, with which noble lords from all across the Seven Kingdoms had previously showered her. Corlys gave her a sense of security, his intellect and firmness admired her, and his easy, confident smile made her heart beat faster.
However, there was one detail that invariably poisoned the joy of these meetings for Viserra and made her feel like a bird in a golden cage.
"It is not Corlys who worries me," Viserra said quietly, with a tinge of irritation, as she tied a silk ribbon to the end of her braid. "It is Ser Ryam who worries me. It is becoming unbearable, Rhaenys. He no longer leaves my side by even a single step. You remember, don't you, that previously his snow-white cloak could only be seen beside my father? Now, the Lord Commander has turned into my personal shadow. Wherever I go to the sept, to the shipyards, to the library, or for a walk along the fortress walls - he always follows me at a distance of a few paces. Praise the gods, he leaves me in peace at least at night, but even then, someone else from the White Cloaks stands guard at my door. This constant presence suffocates me. I feel like a guarded criminal, not a princess."
Rhaenys rose from the daybed, walked over to her aunt, and gently placed her hands on her shoulders, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her face grew serious for a moment, losing all its recent cheerfulness.
"Ser Ryam Redwyne is one of the most loyal knights in the realm, Viserra. And the fact that Grandfather entrusted him with your protection speaks volumes. But you are right, it does look unusual. However, let us look at it from another angle: as long as the Lord Commander stands guard over your honor, no court gossip will dare spread a foul rumor about your walks with the Master of Ships. His presence is a shield, albeit a rather heavy one."
Rhaenys smiled again, returning to her usual manner of teasing her aunt, and gave her a slight nudge with her elbow.
"But admit it, it is so romantic. The gallant and wealthy Sea Snake, conqueror of distant lands, and the proud princess, whose hand was sought by the best houses in Westeros, meeting in the moonlight under the watch of the most celebrated knight of the Kingsguard. This story is worthy of a ballad. You know, if you hadn't become infatuated with Corlys so rapidly, I would have seriously asked my father to consider my betrothal to him myself."
Viserra spun around sharply, her eyes widening in surprise and a slight pang of jealousy that she failed to suppress in time.
"You? And Corlys? But he is older than you!"
"By only a few years, which is a mere trifle for a marriage," Rhaenys waved it off lightheartedly, enjoying the effect she had produced. "Think about it, purely pragmatically: such a strong, wealthy, and influential husband, possessing the greatest fleet in the world, would significantly ease my future ascent to the Iron Throne. When my time comes to accept the crown after my father, the support of House Velaryon would be the very foundation upon which any ambitions of my ill-wishers would shatter. Besides, Lord Corlys is quite handsome to look at, he has excellent bearing and noble manners, which would be a very pleasant addition to his ships and gold."
She made a theatrical pause, watching as Viserra's face shifted from anger to confusion, and then laughed loudly, wrapping her arms around her aunt's waist.
"Come now, don't look at me as if you are ready to feed me to the first dragon you see! That won't happen now. I would never lay claim to a man whom a certain princess, very dear to my heart, has managed to fall so deeply in love with. My loyalty to you is above any political calculations, you know that. And besides, it seems to me that Corlys looks at you as if all the treasures of Essos are not worth a single glance of yours."
Viserra relaxed slightly and playfully pushed her niece away, though her heart warmed. Her friendship with Rhaenys had always been her anchor in this selfish world of court intrigues.
"You only care to joke, Rhaenys," Viserra grumbled, adjusting the collar of her silk dress. "But what if your mother, or my brother Aemon, actually decides that Corlys is a suitable match for you? What then? Tonight, you are leaving me alone again, without your usual cover."
Rhaenys sighed and shrugged regretfully, returning to the daybed to retrieve her cloak.
"Alas, tonight I cannot possibly go with you to the godswood under the pretext of our shared walk. Father and Mother are hosting a family dinner, and my presence there is mandatory. Lately, these dinners have turned into real interrogations. Parents constantly bring up conversations about suitable candidates for my husband. They sift through the names of young lords from all over Westeros like horses at a fair. And, by the way, you hit the mark - Mother actually did bring up Corlys's candidacy in passing once. She spoke of his recent successes, the strength of Driftmark, and how this alliance would strengthen our position."
Viserra froze, her fingers convulsively gripping the silver perfume vial standing on the table. Her chest grew cold with a sudden fear.
"And what did you do? How did you answer them?"
"I rejected the idea immediately," Rhaenys replied calmly, tossing the cloak over her shoulders. "I told them bluntly that I didn't even want to consider his candidacy. I said that Lord Velaryon is too preoccupied with the sea, his trade, and that I need a husband of a different disposition. Father merely shrugged, and Mother didn't press, shifting the conversation to someone from the Hightowers or Lannisters."
"Rhaenys..." Viserra took a step toward her niece, an uncharacteristic anxiety sounding in her voice. "Do you think they suspected anything? Your mother or father... What if some rumors reached them? What if your sharp refusal led them to think that Corlys is occupied with someone else? Someone from our family?"
Rhaenys stepped closer and confidently took Viserra by the hands, looking into her eyes. In her gaze was that very firmness that Prince Aemon valued so much in her.
"Stop worrying and filling your head with nonsense, Viserra. My refusal looked completely natural. I am capricious, as befits a future heir to the throne, and my parents are used to the fact that I rarely like anyone at first. They decided it was just another manifestation of my character. No one suspected a thing. Think rather of your meeting tonight and don't let fears ruin your evening. Go, your Master of Ships is surely already waiting for you beneath the trees, and Ser Ryam must have already worn out his boots, pacing outside your doors."
Viserra took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and nodded. Rhaenys's words restored her confidence. Saying goodbye to her niece, she pulled the light hood of her cloak over her head, took one last look at herself in the mirror, and headed toward the exit of her chambers.
Behind the heavy oak doors, as expected, Ser Ryam Redwyne met her. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stood impeccably straight, his white armor gleaming dimly in the evening torchlight, and his snow-white cloak fell all the way to the floor. Upon the princess's appearance, he bowed silently and low, pressing a hand to the hilt of his sword. Viserra merely gave him a slight nod, without uttering a word, and walked down the long corridor with a firm, measured stride. The knight immediately followed her, maintaining a steady distance of five paces. His steps on the stone flags were remarkably quiet for a man clad in full plate armor, but Viserra could still feel his unflagging, vigilant presence at her back.
They passed through several corridors, descended the spiral staircase of the South Tower, and stepped out into the courtyard. The cool evening air pleasantly refreshed Viserra's face, causing her to throw back her hood. The few courtiers she encountered along the way respectfully parted, bowing their heads before the monarch's daughter. None of them would dare ask questions or delay her, especially under the stern gaze of the Lord Commander.
The entrance to the godswood met them with coolness and a deep silence that sharply contrasted with the rest of the castle grounds. This ancient oasis amidst the stone grandeur of the Red Keep seemed like a world apart, where time flowed by its own laws. Century-old oaks, elms, and sprawling pines intertwined their crowns high above, blocking out the sky and creating a thick, mysterious shadow. The air here was filled with the scent of pine needles and night-blooming flowers.
Ser Ryam Redwyne did not remain at the entrance of the godswood, as he used to do when the princess was accompanied by Rhaenys. Obeying a new, strict command from the queen, the Lord Commander followed Viserra into the depths of the grove. His steps on the gravel path were measured, and his armor made only a quiet, barely audible metallic rustle. When they reached a spacious clearing, in the center of which towered an ancient weirwood, the knight chose a position by a sprawling old elm at the very edge of the open space. From here, he could not overhear a single word spoken in a quiet voice, as the evening wind softly rustled the leaves, creating a natural curtain of sound. However, Ser Ryam did not lose sight of the princess for a single moment: her dress stood out distinctly against the dark greenery and the pale, almost white trunk of the tree.
Beside the weirwood, leaning his back against a massive ridge of its root, Corlys Velaryon indulged in contemplating the evening shadows. He wore a simple dark blue doublet with silver buttons in the shape of seahorses - the sigil of his house. But far more attention was drawn by the figure resting at his feet. On a carpet of fallen crimson leaves lay Ares - a huge black panther that Corlys had brought back from his famous voyage to Essos. In the twilight of the grove, the beast seemed like a living shadow, its powerful muscles rolling under its skin with every lazy movement. The predator's large head rested on its paws, and its amber eyes watched the approaching princess closely and intently.
Hearing footsteps, Corlys straightened and took a step forward. There was no mask of courtly indifference on his face, his violet eyes looked at her with warmth and that calm assurance that always had a soothing effect on Viserra. Mindful of the guardsman's presence, they both maintained the outward decorum befitting their public status. Corlys bowed politely and deeply, pressing a hand to his heart, while the princess inclined her head in return, greeting him with a restrained smile.
"Good evening, Lord Velaryon," Viserra said clearly enough for her voice to reach the edge of the clearing as an ordinary, polite greeting. "I did not expect to find our Master of Ships in such a secluded place at this hour. I thought all your thoughts were occupied exclusively with state affairs."
"Good evening, Princess Viserra," Corlys mirrored her tone, and a barely perceptible smile touched his lips. "Even the most diligent servant of the crown requires a brief respite from state cares. Sometimes the silence and the rustling of tree branches help put one's thoughts in order better than the noise of the Red Keep. I am glad to have the honor of meeting you here."
Viserra took a few more steps and gracefully sank to one knee before the stationary predator. Ares raised his head slightly, his nostrils flaring as they inhaled the princess's familiar scent. Without a shadow of fear, Viserra reached out and confidently placed her palm on the panther's broad brow, and then began to slowly and gently scratch the beast behind its ear. Ares emitted a deep, guttural sound, vaguely resembling a soft feline purr, and blissfully closed his amber eyes, offering his massive neck to the princess's fingers. The beast, capable of tearing a grown man apart in the blink of an eye, permitted her these liberties with obvious pleasure.
The moment they were under the protection of the weirwood, where their voices were securely hidden from outside ears, the tension that had held Viserra all evening finally broke. She continued to rhythmically stroke Ares's thick, dense fur, feeling the beast relax under her hand.
"Did your niece not come with you today?" Corlys asked in a lower voice, looking at her with a slight squint and clasping his hands behind his back. "Usually, Rhaenys delights in disrupting our solitude with her inquiries about sea voyages and distant lands."
"She is having a family dinner with my brother Aemon and my sister-in-law Jocelyn," Viserra replied, feeling a pleasant warmth spread within from the opportunity to speak openly. "They are back at it again, picking suitors for her from all corners of Westeros. So tonight, I had to come alone. Though, as you can understand, it is rather difficult to call this solitude."
She let her gaze slip toward the elm where Ser Ryam stood frozen. Corlys followed her eyes and chuckled softly, shaking his head. The panther under Viserra's hand rolled onto its side, offering its powerful chest to her touch, and the princess obediently shifted her fingers to the beast's soft fur.
"Ser Ryam is true to his duty, there is no denying that," Corlys said quietly. "You know, Viserra, we can pretend to rare passersby all we want that our meetings here are accidental. We can deceive the simple-minded courtiers who see only what they are meant to be shown. But we cannot deceive the Lord Commander with this. He is an old, experienced warrior who has seen many court intrigues and their secrets in his time. He understands perfectly well why we are here. And most importantly - he does not take his eyes off us, but stays at such a distance as not to hear a word. This means that your parents, the king and queen, know absolutely everything about our meetings."
Viserra froze, her hand stopping for a moment on Ares's fur, causing the panther to open one eye unhappily. The princess raised her head, peering intently into the calm face of the Master of Ships.
"You think they know? And they aren't trying to intervene?"
"I am convinced of it," Corlys replied calmly, turning his torso toward her. "King Jaehaerys does not lose sight of anything that happens within the walls of this castle, especially if it concerns his own blood and the man to whom he entrusted the fleet. If your parents were against our conversations or saw them as a threat to your reputation, Ser Ryam would have received a very different command. Our meetings would have been nipped in the bud, and I would most likely have been sent back to Driftmark under some plausible pretext of inspecting the shipyards. But instead, you are allowed to come here, and the best blade of the Kingsguard acts as your personal shield and a witness to our propriety."
Viserra grew thoughtful, her fingers mechanically running through the fur on Ares's scruff once more. The thoughts that Corlys had voiced had already vaguely crossed her mind, but hearing them from him was a completely different matter. This elevated their communication to a completely different, much more serious level, one she had not dared to think about openly until now. She felt uneasy about how far their relationship had gone in the eyes of the royal couple.
"If they know... and if they don't mind..." Viserra felt a wave of emotion rise in her throat, and her cheeks began to burn with a blush. She had to make an effort to keep her voice at its usual firmness. "That means my father and my mother... They want to bind the blood of the Targaryens to House Velaryon through our marriage. They are allowing us to grow close so that this decision seems natural, and not just the political will of the crown."
She spoke the word "marriage" with clear embarrassment, for until now her interaction with Corlys had been filled with flirtation, intellectual rivalry, and mutual interest, but the prospect of matrimony, which had previously caused her nothing but rage, now echoed in her chest with a strange, trembling anticipation. She had never planned their relationship so far ahead.
Corlys stepped closer, his boot crunching softly on the dry leaves. He looked down at her, and a hard, practical clarity of a true statesman appeared in his gaze.
"It is the only logical explanation, Viserra," he confirmed, and notes of a man accustomed to ruling people and their destinies could be heard in his voice. "Your father is a good ruler, and he sees perfectly well how the world has changed in recent years. House Velaryon has become too strong and wealthy for the crown to ignore or keep at a distance. My voyages have brought Driftmark wealth that exceeds the treasury of many Great Houses, and our fleet now forms the backbone of all of Westeros's naval power. The king understands that such a force must be firmly bound to the Iron Throne by the bonds of a dynastic marriage before it turns into an independent center of influence. As pragmatic and regrettable as it may sound coming from my lips, if I were in King Jaehaerys's place, I would have done exactly the same. He acts for the sake of the stability of the realm and his family."
Viserra rose to her feet, brushing the stuck leaves off the hem of her dress. Ares, deprived of affection, yawned lazily, baring impressive white fangs, and settled down comfortably again, burying his muzzle in his paws. The princess looked at Corlys, admiring how easily he analyzed her father's motives without losing his personal warmth toward her.
"It seems you are right," she said softly, forcing herself to calm down and return the mask of royal dignity to her face. "My father always thinks decades ahead. But since we are talking about marriages and politics... It reminds me of Rhaenys's troubles. As I already said, her parents are actively looking for a husband for her right now, and this confrontation within their family is only escalating."
Viserra sighed and paused briefly, gathering her thoughts. The topic of succession was a delicate one, but Corlys was the kind of person with whom one could speak about it without fear.
"My father, the king, has been growing increasingly gloomy lately whenever the future of the Iron Throne comes up. He is highly displeased that my eldest brother, Aemon, is not even attempting to have another child with his wife who could become a male heir. After Rhaenys's difficult birth, Jocelyn's health was shaken, and Aemon flatly refuses to risk her life for the ghostly hope of birthing a boy. He believes that Rhaenys is a wonderful heir, and that is enough. But my father... Father is unyielding. He believes that the lords of Westeros will never bow their heads to a woman without a fight, and that the absence of a male heir in the direct line is a potential seed for a future civil war. And now, as Rhaenys grows up, the choice of her husband becomes a matter of life and death for the entire dynasty. Yesterday, her mother even mentioned your candidacy in passing, which Rhaenys immediately dismissed so as not to create unnecessary problems for us."
Corlys listened to her intently, his face growing focused. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a few slow steps beneath the canopy of the tree, pondering what he had heard. As Master of Ships and a lord, he understood perfectly the nature of power and the king's fears.
"It is a dangerous situation," he finally said, stopping and turning to Viserra. "King Jaehaerys remembers Maegor the Cruel and the horrors that occur when the legitimacy of the succession is called into question. His fears are not baseless. The lords of Westeros are conservative people, they are used to seeing a ruler primarily as a warrior leading them into battle. If Rhaenys is destined to become the first ruling queen, her spouse must be a figure who will not divide the kingdom, but on the contrary, unite it. I have a thought on this matter, Viserra. And I think you should gently and unobtrusively pass it on to Rhaenys, so that she, in turn, can ponder it and perhaps suggest it to her parents. She should seriously consider Viserys."
Viserra raised her eyebrows in surprise, this option had clearly not crossed her mind. She lowered her hand onto Ares's head again, seeking a familiar point of support in this sudden turn of the conversation.
"Viserys? My brother Baelon's son? But why? He is her cousin, and besides, he is younger than her!"
"By only three years," Corlys noted calmly. "At their age, it is completely uncritical. Rhaenys is fifteen now, Viserys is twelve. This gives them both enough time before a potential wedding to mature and get used to the idea. Now look at it from the perspective of grand politics, the way your father looks at it. Viserys is a Targaryen, the king's grandson through the male line. If Rhaenys marries him, this union will firmly bind the two main branches of the royal family - Aemon's line and Baelon's line. Think about it: in the future, when Rhaenys is to ascend the throne, her main potential rivals or figures around whom disgruntled lords might rally would be precisely Baelon's sons - Viserys and Daemon. This is a story as old as the world itself: opponents of a female ruler always seek a man from the same dynasty whose rights, in their opinion, are higher. But if Viserys becomes Rhaenys's husband and her prince consort, this card will be permanently knocked out of her enemies' hands. He will himself strengthen the rights of her future children, for they will be heirs to both branches. King Jaehaerys will be delighted with such a decision, because it guarantees peace within the family and continuity of power without a rift."
Viserra listened to him, holding her breath. Corlys's logic was flawless and incredibly accurate in its simplicity.
"But what about Viserys's character?" Viserra asked, continuing to stroke the panther under his chin. "You know him, he is nothing like his father Baelon. He has none of his fury or militancy. He seems too soft for the Iron Throne."
"That is precisely his main virtue for this role!" a knowing smile appeared on Corlys's lips. "I have managed to study young Viserys quite well. He is a pleasant, good-natured boy who loves feasts, comfort, and good company. He completely lacks that steel, harsh character that would make him fight for sole power. He possesses no conqueror's ambitions. Rhaenys, on the contrary, possesses a will that is stronger than that of many grown men. If they marry, Rhaenys will easily be able to manage their union. Viserys will gladly yield the burden of state governance to her, contenting himself with the role of her faithful companion. She will never have problems with a husband who wants to appropriate her lawful right to rule the kingdom or push her into the background. She will remain the true ruler, and he will become her reliable support, which at the same time will satisfy all the lords due to his lineage."
Viserra shook her head, a slight, respectful smile reflecting on her face. She took a step toward Corlys, looking up at him.
"Your political astuteness sometimes amazes me, Corlys. You think like a true Hand, calculating every step years in advance. I will certainly pass this idea to Rhaenys at the first opportunity. I think she will appreciate it, because this decision will save her from many problems in the future."
"I am merely glad to be of use," Corlys inclined his head slightly, though satisfaction at her praise could be read in his eyes. "In the end, the stability of the realm is what will allow both you and me to look to the future with confidence."
They were silent for a time, enjoying the quiet of the grove and each other's closeness. The wind continued to rustle the leaves of the trees, bringing a coolness. Ares at their feet snored softly, having finally drifted into sleep under the protection of the weirwood. The tension of the evening melted away, giving way to peace.
Suddenly Corlys's expression changed, his eyes gleamed mischievously, and a light, playful smile appeared on his lips - one that Viserra saw quite rarely, but which she immensely liked.
"Speaking of family and marriages," he said, pausing briefly as if preparing a surprise. "Since we have discussed your parents' plans and your niece's future in such detail today, I should share a piece of news with you that concerns us directly."
Viserra tensed, curiosity flashing in her eyes. She took her hand away from the panther and drew herself up.
"What news? Has something happened on Driftmark?"
"No, all is quiet on Driftmark," Corlys chuckled and stepped almost right up to her. "The matter is that my lady mother, Lady Alice, has decided to leave our ancestral castle and visit her children. She wants to see firsthand how things are going for me here in the capital, and how my brother Daeron is faring. She will arrive in King's Landing in a few days."
Viserra felt her heart skip a beat, and her breath caught for a moment. Meeting Corlys's mother, Lady Alice Velaryon, was an event for which she was completely unprepared.
Corlys noticed her bewilderment and could not help a light, good-natured chuckle.
"So, my dear princess, you should start preparing yourself mentally," he whispered with a smile, looking into her eyes. "Preparing to meet your potential good-mother. I assure you, Lady Alice is a woman of strict rules, but she possesses a kind heart. And for some reason, it seems to me that you and she will find a common language much faster than you think."
Viserra proudly tossed her chin, regaining her usual majesty, though inside everything trembled with anxiety.
"I am a princess of House Targaryen, Corlys," she replied with feigned severity, though she herself was smiling. "And I am not afraid of meeting lords, nor their venerable mothers. Let your lady mother come. I shall meet her as befits a king's daughter."
"She will be enchanted," Corlys answered sincerely and seriously. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a long, tender kiss to her fingers. "Of that I do not doubt for a single instant."
The time for their meeting came to an end. Twilight had completely given way to deep night, and the stars overhead blazed in full force. They spoke a little more about Lady Alice's upcoming visit, after which it was time to return so as not to arouse unnecessary suspicion with a prolonged absence.
They stepped out into the open part of the clearing again, regaining their restrained and official demeanor. Corlys escorted the princess to the path where Ser Ryam could already clearly see them, and there they said their goodbyes with short, respectful bows befitting their public status. Ares, rising after his master, cast a lazy parting glance at the princess and let out a low growl, as if saying goodbye.
When Viserra approached the edge of the clearing, Ser Ryam Redwyne still stood at his post, like a stone statue. He did not ask a single question, nor did he allow himself a single extra glance. Turning silently, the Lord Commander walked ahead of her, leading the way back to the castle through the night chill.
They passed through dark corridors, ascended the spiral staircase of the South Tower, and finally reached the doors of her chambers. At the entrance, another guardsman was already on duty, ready to relieve the Lord Commander for the night watch. Ser Ryam stopped, giving way to the princess, and bowed low.
"Good night, Princess," the knight said.
"Good night. Thank you for the escort, Ser Ryam," Viserra replied.
She pushed the heavy oak door, stepped across the threshold, and quietly closed it behind her, cutting off the night sounds of the castle. Finding herself in the familiar silence of her chambers, the princess leaned her back against the cool wood of the door and took a deep breath. Her heart was still beating rapidly beneath the silk of her dress, and her mind was crowded with thoughts of Lady Alice's impending visit, the plans for Rhaenys's future, and that invisible yet strong thread that now bound her destiny to the Sea Snake.
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A/N
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