Chapter 1: Birth
Chapter Text
Chapter 0: Birth
"The stories are not sealed. As long as there are words, there are paths. There are threads. There is a possibility."
It was a sunny day when Liora Velaryon was born, just as the sun was at its highest, warmest and radiant, as if it shone brightest just for her. The coastal breeze of Driftmark was soft as a lover's caress, and for a moment even the sound of the sea seemed to stop. Suddenly, Lady Alys Oakheart's last cry of pain is heard in the Driftmark Fortress, as the maester asks her to bid one last time. And with one last effort, Liora Velaryon comes into the world, and the world seems to turn again.
But only silence is heard in the room of the Lords of Driftmark. Well, Liora is born silent as death, deeply frightening her mother, who in bed was waiting for the master to give her her baby.
—"What's wrong?" Why is he so quiet? Is something wrong with him? — Lady Alys looks at the maester holding her newborn baby.
—"No, my lady, she's just quiet, — replied the master after checking that the baby was breathing—it's a girl, my lady.My Lord will be happy to know that he has a daughter
The master gave him his daughter after cleaning her, and put her in his arms. Lady Alys looked at her daughter cradled in the maester's arms. When he settles to hold it. It is when he opens his eyes, golden as the radiant sun, and the molten gold, and they see something that others cannot notice, that the world moves again. But no one cares about what a newborn baby sees or doesn't see. And Lady Alys holds the breath of wonder, enraptured by her daughter's eyes.
—It's like the sun,—she thought aloud, looking at her husband who was entering the living room to welcome his new member of the family.
Her husband, Lord Aurion Velaryon, paused for a moment in the doorway, as if hesitating whether he should enter or not.
There was blood in the air. And also silence.
But then he heard his wife's voice. Softly, as if talking about a vision.
The lord of Driftmark advanced. Tall, with a tempered countenance and the hands of a weathered sailor, he did not usually show emotion outside the sea.
But looking at the girl in his wife's arms, he hesitated.
—Are you crying?—he asked.
—No—replied the master—. She was born in silence. But she is healthy. Strong.
Aurion bowed his head, still not approaching.
—And what shall we call it?— Lady Alys asked, still enraptured.
The man did not answer immediately. She looked at her daughter as if trying to understand something she couldn't name.
—Liora— he said at last—Liora Velaryon
—Liora?—
—“Light." In the ancient language. Like the one reflected by the waves when the sun rises. —
There was a brief silence.
—Well then, my Driftmark sun— Lady Alys whispered, smiling wearily. —May the sea protect you, and the wind take you where you should be.
At that moment, the door gently opened.
—Can I see it? — A child's voice asked from outside.
It was Monfort Velaryon, with big eyes, wet hair from training, and hands clenched in his sleeves.
—Your sister—Aurion said. —Come here.
Monfort approached, without making a sound.
He looked at her. Then, without warning, he smiled.
—It's wrinkled— he said with childish honesty. — But it's pretty.
Lady Alys laughed weakly.
—Yes, honey, wrinkled and pretty. Like the things that matter.—
No one noticed it then, but as the family surrounded her, Liora kept looking up. Not his mother. Not his father. Not his brother.
That night there was a celebration at Driftmark, for the birth of the new member of the Velaryon.
In her crib, while everyone was celebrating, Liora looked at the ceiling. Where others saw wooden beams, she saw threads. No words yet. Just threads... who trembled as if they were waiting for something.
"And so Liora Velaryon was born, silent as death...
but as long as there are words, his story was not yet written."
Chapter 2: Casterly Rock
Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Casterly Rock
270 B.C, Westeros
The salty sea air reminded him of home. But it couldn't be further away. The wobble of the boat is like a cradle rocking it, for some that would make them dizzy, but not for Liora. Liora was a Velaryon, a family of sailors as soon as she could walk her father had taken her on her first boat trip, they had sailed around the island of Driftmark, and on her second voyage she had arrived at the port of Dragonstone. But this was undoubtedly the longest trip of their short life, with only 6 (almost 7) days of the name, they had been traveling from almost a moon. But Liora was brave, as the motto of her house says. "Liora recalls, our motto is 'The Old, The True, The Brave,' her father's deep voice in a memory.
Yes, Liora can be brave.
She hears the door of her cabin open and through it enters her maid, Symmona, with a tray of food in her hand.
—Good morning, my lady, the weather is fine today, the captain said he hopes to arrive at Lannisport Harbour in a few hours, maybe noon—Symmona spoke, putting the food on the cabin table, and heading towards her to help her up
Symmona, who was older than her, had taken care of her since she left the care of her nanny, when Liora was only a 2-year-old girl, and Symmona was 12. She was both his maid and a sister. Now nearly 17, Symmona was a young woman in the prime of her age, with dark reddish-brown hair, like the cinnamon she saw in the kitchens of Driftmark, and grayish-blue eyes like a stormy sea day. She was tall, a little too tall in Symmona's own words, and always looked serious, but her hands were soft as the harbor breeze. When they combed it, they hardly felt it.
In addition, she has a gift for embroidery, something that Liora appreciated, since, although she liked embroidery, she was a disaster at it. Not even Septa Sephora could get him to improve. She could never make a single flower that did not look like a deformed animal. Her brother Monfort always laughed at her trying to decipher what she had embroidered. Liora felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of home.
—Symmona…do you think… you think we can get along? —Liora whispered her fears in a low voice to Symmona, while she raised her hands for Symmona to take off her nightgown and start putting on the dress of the day.
—Of course, my lady, you are a young noblewoman from a respectable house, no one will treat you badly—Symmona replied as she began to tie the dress.
—I know that, but…I mean, ¿do you think we can be friends?—she spoke as she turned to her head to see Symmona tie the dress around her back, while her arms were outstretched. To which her maid looked up to meet her gaze, gold and blue-gray collided in a moment of silence, and then Liora could see how Symmona's eyes relaxed into a warmer gaze, her eyes went from a stormy sea to a calm sea, and she relaxed a little.
—Of course you'll be friends, miss, anyone would be happy to have you be their friend." There's no one better than the Pearl of Driftmark— Symmona said, finishing tying the dress, then lightly stroking Liora's hair fondly.
Liora felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and her ears, and her pale skin didn't know how to hide it.
After finishing dressing, Liora sat on the dressing table for Symmona to comb her hair. Her hair was long and fell in waves down to mid-back, a platinum blonde hue, evidence of the Valyrian blood that ran in her family. While Symmona combed her hair in a waterfall braid, which she would then put in the shape of a crown, braided with a light blue and white ribbon, like her dress. The colors of your house.
Liora saw herself reflected in a small polished bronze hand mirror, a gift from her mother before they left Driftmark, in which she could see her pale hair and eyes. They were golden, they had always been a matter that attracted attention, her father had silver blonde hair like her, but his eyes were a deep blue like almost violet; and her mother had reddish-brown hair evidence of her ancestry from the Reach, her eyes were closer to Liora's, but at the same time not, her mother's eyes were a light brown, which in the sunlight looked like melted honey, and looked at her with the same sweetness. But Liora's eyes were not like that, in the shadow they were golden as a little close to honey or amber, but in the sunlight they seemed golden, which changed tone depending on how the light reached them. Liora admitted, with a certain humility and some narcissism, that her eyes are beautiful, but she wouldn't call herself a "Pearl."
Suddenly, he felt a golden flash in the corner of his eye, and heard a whisper.
—"and It... it falls... Falls... falls" —
But Liora, she was not surprised, was already used to it.
Symmona finished combing her hair and went to the table with the food, and in a miscalculated movement she ran into the edge of the table, then a small porcelain cup fell off the table, hitting the floor and breaking into pieces. Liora just looked at her without surprise, somewhat expressionless, while Symmona was startled, and immediately knelt down to pick up the pieces of porcelain that had been a cup.
—I'm sorry, miss, don't pay enough attention,— Symmona apologized quickly, only to see Liora kneel down to help her pick up. You shouldn't do this," she spoke alarmed.
—These things happen, Symmona, besides it doesn't matter as long as we're both together, doesn't it?— Liora answered, as she finished picking up the pieces and put them in a handkerchief.
Shortly after breaking the fast, they heard a knock on the door, and the voice of Ser Aaron Smith, the sworn shield given to him by his father, spoke behind the door.
—Miss, the captain says we'll get to port in a short time.—
—I understand, Ser, we'll be out in a few minutes—Liora replied in the best tone of authority she could. But nerves were surging again in his stomach.
They were about to arrive. To Casterly Rock, her parents had sent her on a journey of almost a moon, through several stops; the first at Sunspear, a port in Dorne, had been very hot and she had been fascinated by the desert sand in the distance, as Ser Aaron would not allow her to stray far from the ship, named "Seahorse" in honor of her family, much to Liora's disappointment. Their second stop had been at the port of Oldtown, this time Ser Aaron was more generous, and allowed them to tour the city, under his company of course.
Oldtown had proved charming, in the fact of how different it was from Driftmark, even from Dorne, with its old stone streets, and alleys and markets that looked like a labyrinth, where Dorne was dry, Oldtown had a damp air, which made the stone uses slippery; it itself almost fell down after a light drizzle, due to the morning sea fog. They had been able to visit the Great Starry Sept, where Aegon Targaryen, "The Conqueror" had been crowned by the seven gods. Although Liora was not so devout, (—"... and so said the Lord... I am... the who I am..."— the whispers vibrated strongly) found the great impressive dome, and the colored glass left her fascinated. And now the trip was about to end.
"You're brave, Liora, you're brave," she encouraged herself.
Her parents had sent her because this was important to the family, she could do it. They had explained to her that she was going to be a ward of the Lannisters, of Lady Joanna Lannister, the wife of the current Hand of the King, "It's an honor, Liora" her mother had told her. This as part of an agreement between the houses and an act of good faith. This would open the doors to a new trade route between Driftmark, and the West. House Lannister would provide the resources for the construction of new trading ships, and Driftmark would act as a point connecting Kingslanding to Essos, and across Lannisport to the western continent. And although politics was never her forte in classes with Maester Gawen, she understood that this would benefit her family both politically and economically, something they needed after the slow loss of importance since Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon in the Dance with Dragons, and although they have not lost power, and not even his arks have diminished, the prestige of his house has diminished with each generation.
As she left the cabin, accompanied by Symmona, the sea wind ruffled her hair, and the smell of salt entered her nose. For a moment he could not understand how the sea, being the sea, could smell so different from his home. In the midst of the uproar of the ship, which was preparing to dock in the harbour, Liora approached the railing, and in the distance he could see the port of Lannisport, and on the top of the mountain, built like a castle rising from the rock, was his final destination, Casterly Rock.
Chapter 3: The Boy with the Green Eyes
Chapter Text
Chapter 2: The Boy with the Green Eyes
Upon arriving at Lannisport Harbour, they were greeted by a whirlwind of voices. The town was vibrant and alive, filled with the clamor of shouting and constant movement.For Liora—who hadn’t set foot on land in nearly half a moon and had only the company of the ship’s crew—it was overwhelming and a little intimidating, very different from her wet Driftmark, which had a slow and steady movement. After saying goodbye to the captain of the "Seahorse", Liora disembarked from the ship, escorted by Ser Aaron and Symmona, as well as the small entourage of 2 other servants, and the Septa Sephora who accompanied her.
Upon disembarking from the ship, they encountered a carriage bearing House Lannister's lion banner, and in front of it a small group of guards dressed in red cloaks with gold embroidery, which Liora surmised, would be their escort to Casterly Rock Keep. They looked at her for a moment, from top to bottom, not that there was much to see. Liora reflected, although she did not like to admit it, she had not yet gained as much height as she would like. But she guessed that the colors of her house in her dress, light blue and white, with embroidered details of seahorses. They seemed to confirm her identity, and the guards approached and bowed accordingly befitting Liora's social status, as a daughter of a noble house.
—"My lady, we will escort you to the Fortress" —reported one of the soldiers who were dressed in crimson cloaks that fluttered like tongues of fire in the wind. Their armor was burnished steel, heavy but gleaming, and on their chests, each wore the golden lion of House Lannister. While Liora nodded, in an attempt not to show her shyness. Although she already knew it, a knot of fear began to form in her stomach, like the aftermath of a bad meal, because she understood that, in this vibrant place, she was alone with no other protection than the name of her house and a small entourage with only one gentleman to protect her.
In the carriage they crossed the town of Lannisport, surrounded by the constant chatter of merchants and fishermen, as well as the faint sound of armour ringing as they walked, both from their escorts and from small groups of soldiers patrolling the streets, not many, but enough to notice that they were guarding the town.
Liora looked out the window of the carriage, lifting the light curtain that separated the interior from the exterior, and was amazed by the image that the city built, so different from her native island.
If she had to describe it with one vivid word, as soon as you are in Lannisport port, you can hear the shouts of the shopkeepers, and the constant movement in the streets. The houses are yellow tones and with roofs with red tiles like the color of the Lannisters, the sun was drier and brighter, than Driftmark, as if all the moisture was absorbed by the plants leaving only a warm breeze of slightly constant quality. It had plants of every color and shape, and the water is turquoise and clear that shines with its golden sands that can be seen. Touching the cliffs in the distance, rising as a promise of power and eternity, Casterly Rock appears: a titanic mountain that rises directly from the sea, as if the gods had sculpted it to defy the sky.
For a moment Liora was bewildered, in a mixture of nostalgia and amazement, it was very obvious that this place was not even remotely similar to her wet and gray Driftmark, with its stormy blue waters and blackish sands, it was like going from night to day, but it did not make her feel more comforted,h like when one is in the sun, but disoriented, like someone who spends a lot of time in the sun and wants to return to the shade. (Something she learned in Dorne, she would never have thought that the sun could be so distressing, especially on his pale skin.)
Wherever I looked, I saw people with olive skin or a slight tan, blonde or light brown tones, smiling and talking. Nothing like the people of Driftmark, who, although they were of all shades, due to being an obligatory stop between Kingslanding and Essos, were quiet and walked with purpose.
On the other hand, she could notice certain hints of gold that haunted the streets of Lannisport. Much more than I was used to. That they murmured in their ears, one over the other, mixed with the hustle and bustle of the city.
"—Today arrives... Arrive today—"
«—… Blessed is he...—"
«—… the essentials... invisible... the eyes—"
She then looks towards the end of the road that her carriage travels, in an attempt to silence the voices, and is stunned by what she sees.
Every moment closer to her.
Fortitude does not seem to be made by human hands. "It doesn't land on the rock, it's the rock." It blends in with her, carved from her entrails with almost divine precision. As you get closer, the details are defined, like a more detailed painting: windows and terraces invisible from a distance, small as eyes spying from the stone skin. Soaring staircases, arches carved directly into the mountain, and at its top, a solitary, proud tower, touching the sky like a sleeping giant's finger.
Seagulls circle around the summit, and the brackish smell of the sea mixes with the scent of iron, leather, and sweat from the Lannister guards who guard the road. The city of Lannisport is left behind, bustling and alive, but small compared to that red and gold mass that dominates the skyline.
After a few minutes, they arrived at the entrance of the fortress, its great walls recalling the long history of House Lannister, and its huge door opened before Liora's carriage, and only made his fear and nervousness increase.
With a screech of the hinges, the great doors opened, and for a moment Liora was mowed down by the sunlight that entered through the crack that the curtain of the carriage allowed her to see. And his heart jumped, small, like someone who thinks she missed a step and will fall.
— "Here I start another story" — Liora realized, with a hint of fear, from now on there was no turning back, she would live with the Lannisters until she got engaged or her parents called her back home, the latter, Liora understood with a weight on her chest, was unlikely. A world away from the people and land she knew.
The carriage stopped, the door of the carriage opened to let her down, Symmona put a small wooden staircase, while Ser Aaron stretched out his hand to help her down.
She stretched out her hand, noticing how she trembled slightly from nerves, she felt her legs weak, as she held the hand of Ser Aaron, who, in a gesture of silent support, gave her a small squeeze, which helped her calm down. And then I go down.
Once on the ground, she allowed herself to look at the people who came out to greet her. She knew, then, that it must be Lady Joanna Lannister, since according to his parents she had been told (and what she had heard on his journey), Lord Lannister, was in Kingslanding, serving as the King's Hand, King Aerys II Targaryen, as she had done for several years, a friend of the king, she had been told, but that she now had more power than the king, they were rumored among the common people. But that did not interest Liora, the court was far away, and her fears were in front of her.
Lady Joanna stood right in the middle of the entrance, at full height, dressed in a luxurious red and gold dress, made of the finest, lightest silks, fit for the climate of her home. Her golden blonde hair was tied back in an elegant low bun that rested softly on the nape of her neck. Delicate braids were woven along her head, as if someone had painstakingly woven each strand, creating an intricate outline that framed her face gracefully. A few loose strands purposely escaped the updo, falling in soft waves around her cheeks, giving her a relaxed air. It was a hairstyle designed to look simple, but whose harmony spoke of expert hands and a beauty that did not need to boast. With a gold diadem with small rubies, which showed their status in a subtle way, along with a silk choker, with a gold clasp.
As Liora looked at her she felt a shudder of fear and admiration, she was a lady different from her mother, her mother was like a constant river, soft as the softness that wore down even the rock. But Lady Lannister was a totally different lady, without a point of comparison, besides that each one was a beauty, of course, although without comparison.
Mother was a beauty of the Reach, delicate and beautiful, warm and sweet as a summer flower. Lady Joanna, was a luxurious beauty, like the marble or ruby that decorates her, glamorous, who wherever she walks commanded respect and admiration. Lady Lannister was a woman who commanded respect and admiration. The lioness of Casterly Rock commanded the lands of Lord Tywin Lannister, her cousin and husband, as one who is born to reign. Beautiful and intimidating to honor its emblem. His eyes stared at people as if she were waiting to find the weakness of his prey to launch into the attack, coldly and cunningly. While Lord Tywin Lannister, served as the king's hand in the king's landing; Here in the western lands, the lioness reigned.
But as she looked at her, Liora saw more than just her beauty. In an instant, she perceived a golden thread around her, like a thread that was about to thread on a needle, turning about two turns to enter the lioness's chest. Of course, Lady Lannister didn't feel anything, she didn't see anything, and no one around her. It was something that only Liora could see, and she was used to seeing things like that, they had been with her for as long as she could remember, maybe since she was born, it was as natural to her as breathing, like watching the sun rise in the morning and set in the afternoon, natural and unchanging.
Although, Liora might recognize that Lady Joanna's thread was brighter and sharper than the ones she normally sees. If the ones you see are usually a more diffuse thread on their edges and lighter tones, some almost transparent. Like smoke from a fireplace fire.
—"Her creator must love her, because there are more words in her story."— Liora thought, trying not to look deeply, or listen to the whispers, which try to tell her things she doesn't want not to know. A futile effort, she knows, has done it before and words always get to her.
—"...The best part of him died with her..." —I hear the whisper.
And Liora didn't want to know more.
She looked down and bowed as she had been taught, as gracefully as she could.
"I hope it wasn't noticed," she thought as she tried to control the trembling of his hands
—I thank you for your hospitality, my lady. I'm Liora Velaryon, from Driftmark's House Velaryon. I trust that your lordship, as well as your distinguished family, are in good health—she said in a calm and clear tone, as she had practiced so many times in front of Symmona and the Septa Sephora, although the trembling in his hands did not stop.
Lady Joanna watched her without moving at all, as if she wanted to measure her without using a scale. Before answering. There was something calm but exact in his gaze, as if every word she didn't say was worth more than the ones she did.
—Welcome to Casterly Rock, Lady Liora—she said at last, with a slight nod. His tone was friendly, but not warm.
—I hope your stay is pleasant and useful—His lips smiled that did not reach his eyes. But it wasn't cruelty. But neither was kindness, Liora noticed as she straightened up.
It was then that Liora noticed another figure standing next to Lady Lannister, smaller, almost of her size.
—My son, Jamie Lannister—Lady Joanna pointed out, as she put her hand on her son's shoulder—My daughter, Cersei, will not be able to join us today, she is resting with a fever, but I trust that in a few days I will be able to introduce her to you, Lady Liora, I am sure that both of you will have a lot in common. —
Emphasizing the latter, Liora noticed.
— "She wants me to be friends with her daughter" —
—It will be a pleasure, my lady, I am always willing to make new friends, I am sure we will get along very well. —Liora replied quickly, in a calm tone.
This time she stopped to take a closer look at the young man next to the woman.
The child was pretty.
His hair was blond and wavy, like gold or wheat when it dances in the wind. And the eyes... large, green, like the leaves that shine when the sun passes through them. Very nice. Like a very well done painting.
I knew there were two.
"—They have two children, almost your age. A boy and a girl. Twins. Golden Twins—."My mother whispered it to me on the last night at Driftmark, as she stroked my hair.
If they are the same, then the girl must also be very pretty. Like a doll. I wonder if she'll like me.
I have never seen such beautiful children. Well... apart from me, of course. Mom says I'm a rare gem. But maybe you haven't seen these kids.
At least this child... it makes one never tire of looking at it.
—Jaime, dear, could you escort Lady Liora to her room— Lady Joanna told her son. —I must return to the lot for a meeting with the maester, we will meet at lunchtime—
The latter was said in a tone that, Liora knew, was an order. Like his father when he didn't want to talk about more than one subject. Then Liora nodded in agreement, and bowed goodbye, while Lady Joanna turned and walked inside her home. Then Liora went to Young Jaime, who was already waiting for her at the gate of the fortress.
It was then, when she noticed it, perhaps before she had noticed it through the nerves, but now it came suddenly.
A golden thread.
Bright as no other, and sharp as the edge of a sword, it surrounded the young man, and vibrated with a force, like one who plays a harp. And thousands of whispers reached his ears in a single instant, so many that it was hard to tell what he was saying. Then one stood out among all.
—"....The things I do for love..."—
Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Cassandra
Summary:
Thanks for reading. Honestly, it's a work in progress, and I'm struggling to stay focused, so I'm doing the best I can. I hope I can build the idea I have in mind. Thanks, I hope you like it.
By the way, I'm thinking of adding some other characters' perspectives, but I'm not sure whether to put them here, as interlude chapters, or as a separate group. Maybe if I do a separate group, I'll add scenes that might or might not appear in the main story. Something like post-credit scenes, but before they actually happen. Anyway, I'm listening if you're interested in that. Honestly, one way or another, they'll be written because they help me get inspired and stay focused, and give coherence to my thinking. I just wanted to know if you're interested in reading them, and if so, whether you'd like them here or in a separate group.
Chapter Text
Cassandra
For a moment, Liora didn't understand what she was hearing; the whispers had never "spoken" so loudly. When she recovered from the shock, she noticed that the young Lannister was looking at her expectantly. It seemed that the young man had said something, but his whispers muffled his words.
She felt her cheeks blush as her hands lightly clutched her dress.
—Excuse me, what did you just say? — she spoke softly, ashamed and shy. «Gods, they're going to think I'm foolish. How uncouth, Mother would be disappointed» she thought, feeling her eyes well up. But then she noticed that the young man was just smiling and took her wrist; an impropriety, but at that moment Liora didn't care.
—Come on, I'll show you your room—said the blond boy, with a smile that seemed full of excitement to show off his home —It's near the main Garden and has a Balcony overlooking the cliffs; they're enormous, when you look from your balcony it seems like you're about to fall into the sea. I'll show you.
The young man, encouraged by Liora's shyness, now seemed more confident, for he now walked with strength and speed, almost dragging her along. Liora stumbled a little before she could catch up, not without first looking back at Symmona and Ser Aaron. Only to notice that only Ser Aaron was following them.
—Symmona went to organize the luggage, my lady, and to coordinate with the servants here to have everything ready for dinner. She said she would arrive at your room a little later. — Ser Aaron informed her, in his stoic voice. But that left Liora calm, only then did she enthusiastically follow her guide. Seeing that her attention was on him, he straightened up, trying to appear taller, and began to describe his home.
—It's a straight path from here, so you won't get lost, Lady Liora, this is the main Garden, it has all the flowers found in the west—he said, pointing to a huge garden full of flowers and colors, on the other side of the hallway with columns dividing it. —This path leads to the knights' training grounds and the stables, I train with the sword there—he spoke with pride, puffing out his chest —Ser Garret says I could be one of the best swordsmen of my generation, I'm going to be a knight for sure.
The young Lannister spoke to her, his voice full of enthusiasm. He pointed to a wide hallway to the right, crossing a division that seemed to go towards the edges of the fortress. Everything seemed to have been built from the same mountain rock and carved with an expert hand. Because they had small carvings on the columns that touched the floor. Liora looked around in surprise as she followed her young guide. They followed a hallway that led to a staircase they climbed. The interior walls opposite the garden were covered with finely woven tapestries depicting the history of House Lannister, and towards the garden, the hallway was built like an abandoned passage, with columns supporting it and stone railings, where thin, almost transparent pale yellow curtains hung, looking like a veil.
—It's all so big here—Liora commented in an awestruck tone, looking at the reddish stone walls—it has so much color.
—Of course. It's Casterly Rock of House Lannister—said young Jaime with pride in his voice, slightly raising his chin—Have you never been in a real fortress before?
Liora looked at his face curiously for a moment, noticing that he wasn't saying it in a mean way.
—Not like this, High Tide in Driftmark is different from here, without so much color, it's built with a bluish-gray stone. It doesn't have so many decorations—she mentioned, thinking of her home. She noticed the boy looking at her curiously. —There's a lot of sun here too.
The young Lannister nodded as they walked down the hallway to a door at the end.
—This is your room, look, that's the balcony—he said, opening the door and pointing to a large balcony overlooking the open sea and the ships arriving at the port of Lannisport. —My room is at the other end, the door next to the stairs, and Cersei is in the room next to this one. Mother says we're old enough to sleep separately, you know?
—Is that so? I used to sleep alone since I was 4. Well, my brother is 3 years older than me, so we never shared a room. It must be very fun —Liora mentioned, then made a slight curtsy to young Jaime—Thank you for bringing me, young Jaime. You can call me Liora if you want.
The green-eyed boy replied with a similar curtsy, but when he looked up, Liora noticed that his eyes shone with joy.
—It's a pleasure…Liora—he replied with a smile—you can call me Jaime. Maybe after dinner, would you like to go see the garden? Lately, without Cersei, it's been very boring, maybe I can show you the biggest tree there. I can already climb to the highest branch, I'm sure I can teach you.
—I…sure—Liora hesitated for a moment, looking at Ser Aaron who gave her an encouraging nod before accepting. At that moment Liora felt joy rise in her chest, like when her mother praised her for a perfect curtsy.
«I had made a friend»
A smile formed on her face at that thought.
—Then I'll see you at dinner, I have class with Ser Garret at the training ground—Jaime said goodbye as he ran out the door.
Ser Aaron looked around her room before heading to the door and closing it behind him. Liora knew that meant he would give her privacy and would be watching her door until it was time to leave. Ser Aaron was a man of few words, and firm, like a rock. But he was very kind, Liora trusted him as much as she did her father. He had taken care of her since she was 4, and she had started sleeping alone. She remembered a day of very strong storms, she thought the wind would overturn High Tide. It was her first few days sleeping alone, and she had promised her mother to be brave, so she didn't dare go to her parents, but then Ser Aaron heard her crying, and had entered with a worried frown. He had let her hold his cloak for as long as she needed. She had fallen asleep, but the next morning, when she woke up, Ser Aaron was still standing by her bed, and his cloak was still in her hand. He had stayed there all night, because she never said she didn't need it anymore.
When the door closed, silence filled the enormous room. And at that moment everything she had felt hit her again.
The room was huge and luxurious, it had tapestries of deep colors, with geometric diamond-shaped patterns. She knew they were valuable, coming from Essos, she had seen them once when a merchant who had stopped to resupply in Driftmark before heading to King's Landing. The floors had thick carpets that prevented the coldness of the stone. The furniture was finely crafted, with carvings in pale wood, with gold painted details, on which some had vases with colorful flowers, filling the room with a sweet smell. And fine curtains covering glass windows, where the midday sun entered.
And the bed was enormous, with layers of fine, soft bedding, in a deep blue tone that she knows is difficult to obtain unless made by expert hands.
Everything was beautiful and expensive, showing the grandeur of House Lannister.
But in all that luxury, Liora felt empty.
She let herself fall onto the soft bed and looked at the ceiling. She thought of her room at home, of thick, warm fabrics that protected her from the cold mornings of Driftmark, of the dark stone rooms that at dawn and sunset acquired a violet hue, of the constant sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs with force, that lulled her to sleep, here there is only silence, even the sea sounds quieter. Her family is above all a military house, and her family carries practicality in their blood, they don't usually spend on many luxuries, but her parents allowed her bed to be covered with soft pillows, to hug while sleeping. The fire in the fireplace on the coldest nights, while her mother combed her hair. The cold air on her cheeks as she approached the windows. Here the sun arrives all day, and the breeze is warm, but it doesn't make her feel warm.
Here everything is bigger and more luxurious than anything she had ever had in her life. But this wasn't what she wanted.
Because in this very large bed, Liora is nothing more than a lonely girl, trying to remember how her mother told her she was brave.
Liora turned to her side and decided to think about something else. So she decided to turn her attention to the subject she had been trying to ignore.
The golden threads
The threads had been with her since she could remember, she had never thought it was strange, until she noticed that her family didn't hear and see what she did. When she had pointed out to that merchant who was going to try to cheat her mother at the port, and had commented to her mother, when she had asked her, that her "story" was very clear. Her mother had been very confused by this, and 4-year-old Liora didn't know how to explain it better to her mother, it had been the last time she mentioned this.
And well, "that" is fine
She could still hear it in her ears, even now, vibrating in her head.
«…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra…»
It had been the only time the threads had communicated with her in a way other than just voices and words.
The night she had tried to explain to her mother what she saw, a whisper began to emerge, first slow and quiet but insistent, repeating itself over and over. And as the hours passed, it grew in strength and sound, making her head ache in a way she didn't understand. Liora, only 4 years old, had tried, unsuccessfully, to silence the threads that vibrated with such force that they made her dizzy, covering her ears and closing her eyes tightly, leaning against her bed.
«…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra»
There was a moment when Liora only fell unconscious from the pain and dizziness. Then she dreamed.
She saw an unknown kingdom, with enormous walls of tall, solid stones that seemed not to have been built by man. With large gates through which people in light tunics entered and exited. A large trade and market, with people of all kinds. It was as if Liora imagined it must be Myr or Braavos. With tall temples that seemed to reach the sky, with tall and symmetrical columns. Which, although made of stone, seemed light and full of harmony, each perfectly aligned, seemed to separate the divine interior from the mundane exterior. Inside there were offerings of fruits and riches. With the smell of incense and the sound of a lyre, with people dressed as priests and priestesses praying with faith.
Then she saw a beautiful young woman enter, wearing a long saffron-colored tunic, with a decorated belt cinched to her body. Her brown hair was braided with gold threads. And an ivory diadem, with a light mantle, with exquisite embroidery on her shoulders that covered some of her hair.
««…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra…»
It was heard in the dream.
A man approached the young woman, there was something strange about him, but Liora didn't know what it was. He walked confidently, as if the world belonged to him, and they should be grateful for his presence. The young woman seemed surprised, and even more so when this man offered her a gift. She accepted gladly. And in an instant the young woman's previous light brown eyes shone golden for a moment and turned a honey color.
It was then that the man leaned towards the young woman, «Cassandra» Liora remembered, seeking a kiss, but the young woman recoiled. And the man's face contorted in anger. He extended his hand, and the young woman moved away from him again. It was then that Liora noticed the man's eyes, golden, golden like the sun, that now burned and shone. In an instant, everything shone, and the man went from being an ordinary but handsome man to a being that shone in golden tones, his hair blond to his shoulders and eyes golden like the sun, and seemed to radiate burning heat. He was a beautiful but unreal being, and Liora felt fear, she felt that just looking at him burned her. And she understood, that was a god, not one she knew. And the whispers were clearer.
«Poor Cassandra…Poor Cassandra…Who rejected a god…Oh, fear…fear the wrath of Apollo, who, in rejection, shows no mercy»
Then she saw Cassandra trying to warn her family, to tell them what she saw, and no one believed her. They called her crazy, and they distanced themselves from her, abandoned her. And then an army arrived, she saw a wooden horse, and a city burning in flames, where every citizen of that beautiful city died in cruel ways that at her 4 years old she couldn't imagine. She saw Cassandra standing on the city wall, with tears in her eyes, and a scream in her throat. As she was dragged away by enemy soldiers and taken to a king as a trophy. To then die. And the last thing she saw was that divine being, looking at her among the people, existing among the people, but not being seen. With a smile on his face and golden eyes full of mockery.
It was then that Liora woke up. With a last whisper that reached her ears.
«Poor Cassandra…Beware Cassandra…of your words…because only tragedy will attract»
Liora still remembers the fear she felt when she woke up, the pain she had felt. How she had screamed that morning when she had seen her own golden eyes in a reflection. Liora, only 4 years old, had fallen terribly ill from fright, with a fever. Her parents believed she wasn't going to wake up, and had prepared for the worst. But against all odds, she survived.
And when she tried to tell what happened to her, what she dreamed, what she saw. She heard the whisper again, and felt the vibration of the threads, as if they vibrated in her bones.
«…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra…»
And she knew she had to be silent.
She never told her parents what happened, she didn't dare, shortly after they assigned Ser Aaron as her guard. But every time she thinks of speaking, of telling someone about the threads she sees. The warning sounds again.
«…Cassandra…Cassandra…Cassandra…»
Chapter 5: Interlude: Jaime I
Chapter Text
POV JAIME I: "Sun "
Her hair was like the midday sun.
Not like my sister’s, which shines brightly but seems like fire.
Hers was softer. As if the sun followed her everywhere, without hurrying.
And she didn’t talk much.
Most girls talk incessantly or laugh at anything. But not her.
She just looked. She looked at my mother for a long time, not noticing me until Mother introduced me.
She remained silent, saying nothing to me. And for a moment… I thought I had made a mistake.
At first, I thought she didn’t like me.
But then she looked at me.
And it was as if… I were something beautiful.
Not in a bad way. Not like an ornament.
Just… something worth looking at.
It made me feel good.
So, without realizing it, I straightened up.
I wanted her to see me better.
I put on my best smile, the one that always gets me an extra pastry from Mom.
I don’t know if it worked.
But I wanted her to look at me again.
—
When Mother asked me to escort her, I didn’t complain.
It was like a mission. Like those in fairy tales. I felt like a knight.
Showing a foreign lady my home.
She didn’t answer immediately. She just looked at me with very golden eyes, like coins in the sun.
So I did the first thing that came to mind.
I took her wrist.
I told her that her room overlooked the sea. That the balcony faced the cliffs, and that it looked like you were going to fall into the water if you leaned out too far.
That had always seemed funny to me. I wanted to see if she thought so too.
It wasn’t very polite. But her hand was small and warm, and she didn’t pull away.
I led her through the corridors. She stumbled a little, but then she followed me.
Not like the servants or like Cersei when she’s angry, but as if she really wanted to follow me.
Behind us was that knight with the hard gaze.
The one who never speaks, with the dark blue cloak.
He made me feel strange.
Like he was watching me. Like he was evaluating me.
I don’t like him looking at me so much.
But I didn’t say anything.
—
I showed her the main garden, I told her about the training ground, I told her that I trained with Ser Garret, and that he was very good.
She didn’t laugh. She didn’t call me a liar. She just listened.
As if she really believed that one day I could be a great knight.
When I left her at the door of her room, I bowed as knights do.
She did too. And that made me feel important.
And when she told me I could call her Liora…
—“It’s a pleasure… Liora,” I replied, smiling. <<“I didn’t know why, but it was hard to say her name, as if it tickled my stomach.”>> —“You can call me Jaime. Perhaps after lunch, would you like to see the garden? Lately, without Cersei, it’s been very boring, maybe I can show you the biggest tree there. I can already climb to the highest branch, I’m sure I can teach you.”
—“I… sure,” she replied, hesitating, while looking at her escort over her shoulder.
I don’t know why, but my chest hurt a little.
Just a little. Like when you run a lot and you’re short of breath.
—“Then I’ll see you at lunch,” I said. “I have class with Ser Garret at the training ground.”
She nodded.
And it was as if she had given me something valuable.
As I walked towards the training ground, the corridor seemed short to me.
I was excited for the afternoon in the garden.
I couldn’t wait for it to arrive.
"I’ll show her how good I am at climbing. I’m sure she’ll be surprised."
He thought that, and without realizing it, he quickened his pace.
Almost running.
As if the sun were pushing him from behind.
Chapter 6: Interlude II: Ser Aaron I- II
Chapter Text
POV Ser Aaron I :"My Little Lady"
--Location:Driftmark, Liora Velaryon , age 4--
The salty wind whipped fiercely that day in the High Tide courtyards. The mist-slicked stones were treacherous, but Liora wanted to see the sun filter through the clouds after the rain. She’d said the drops in the puddles looked like stars fallen from the sky.
She ran too fast. She slipped. And the world became stone.
The impact echoed. A harsh, cruel sound, followed by a heavy silence.
She didn’t scream.
She just sat on the ground, her knees bleeding, her hands trembling, her eyes wide, as if the tears didn’t know if they had permission to fall. She looked around. No one. No septa. No servant.
Only him.
Ser Aaron Smith, in the shadow of the gallery, as always, his hands clasped over the hilt of his sword, his brow naturally furrowed. He saw her stumble. He took a step—then stopped, knowing she hadn’t yet asked for him.
Then she rose, trembling. And she walked. She didn’t run. Just… walked.
Before him, without saying a single word, she took the folds of his cloak with her small hands, dirty with dust and blood, and pulled gently.
Ser Aaron looked down. She stared at him without blinking, her lips trembling, her pride wounded. He knelt, slow, clumsy in his enormous armor. He didn’t know what to say.
But she, in turn, embraced him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hid her face in his shoulder, small and trembling like a wet sparrow. The silence then broke, but not in words: in the muffled sob that shook her chest.
Aaron took her by the knees, lifting her into his arms with a strength he didn’t need to show. His cloak enveloped her like a blanket. And without saying anything, he began to walk down the stone corridor towards the maester’s tower.
His face, as always, was a stone mask. But his steps were soft. And with each one, he thought:
“If anyone tries to hurt her again… may the gods intervene first.”
POV Ser Aaron II :"Door"
--Location: Outside Liora Velaryon's room, age 6 – Casterly Rock--
Ser Aaron Smith stood firm before the carved wooden door, his hands clasped behind his back, his face as still as a statue.
The corridor was empty. Only the distant crackle of torches on the stone walls broke the silence. A couple of maids passed through a nearby gallery. Upon seeing him, they lowered their heads and hurried on. Aaron said nothing. He never did.
"Doors don't ask questions. They just make sure they don't open without permission."
It was a phrase his old weapons master had told him, the day he left him alone to guard the entrance to his former lord's hall. He was fifteen then. That night he fainted standing up, not daring to move even to drink water.
It wouldn't happen again. Never again.
He heard a slight creak from the other side of the door. Perhaps it was the girl moving, perhaps crying silently. He imagined her sitting on that bed that smelled of sun and unfamiliar perfume, without the sound of the sea, without the crooked embroidery she always left on her pillow as a mark of home.
"She's alone... but she still has me."
He didn't need to say it. He didn't need to go in.
He lifted his head, scanning the gallery where the other servants would come. If anyone dared to disturb her unnecessarily, a single glance would be enough to send them back where they came from. He didn't know the corridors here, but he knew the gestures that made people recoil. He knew his young lady needed time alone. Young, yet burdened with worries beyond her years.
His sword hung at his side. There was no need to draw it. Hopefully, there never would be.
But if there were… Driftmark would be heard with every blow.
Because wherever Liora Velaryon went, her shadow went too.
And if the shadow had to become a storm to protect her light… May the gods have mercy on whoever tries to extinguish it.
Chapter 7: The Presage
Chapter Text
Liora closed her eyes, trying to silence the voices of memory. She felt the sunlight through her closed eyelids, but it didn't help her calm down. Then she sat up abruptly in bed and got up.
“Staying here won't help me at all,” she reflected, heading towards the balcony Jaime had been so excited about.
She had a beautiful view of the harbor, and the sun beat down on the turquoise sea, making it shine splendidly, like the stained-glass windows she had seen in the Sept of Oldtown. The stone railing of the balcony was still too high for Liora, so she had to stand on tiptoe to get a good look at the view. Then she turned around and noticed that there, on the balcony, was a small table with chairs, for a balcony snack, Liora supposed.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, she took the chair and moved it closer to the balcony, climbed onto it, and sat on her knees, leaning against the railing, enjoying the sea breeze.
It was then that her thoughts returned to the thread of the young Lannister heir; it was something she had never seen before. And throughout Liora's short life, she had seen more than she herself could count.
“It's like a sword, sharp and straight; it seemed to shine brighter than the others, even brighter than her mother's.”
Liora had noticed that the more "history" a person has, now and later, the more defined their thread was.
Liora had seen many threads. Some were barely misty traces, as if someone had drawn them with water on stone. Others were clearer, faint like smoke, but with form. In her mind, she classified them by what they evoked.
If the world were a large painting—a landscape framed by invisible hands—there would be people who were like the mountains in the background. They are there, they are recognizable, imposing… but distant. Their edges blur in the fog; one stone is indistinguishable from another. They are important, yes, but they are not meant to be seen up close.
Then there are the trees. Some closer than others, with recognizable branches, shadows falling on the ground. You don't see every leaf, but you understand its shape, its presence. They are part of the picture, part of the world.
Upon meeting Lady Joanna, she had believed that her thread was the clearest there was. Surely it was beautiful, like a needle and silk, flexible and delicate, but sharp and defined, a golden color like her hair. It was undoubtedly a tree at the edge of the clearing, though not yet fully defined; one could notice the shadows and its leaves.
But then he appeared.
Jaime.
Jaime's thread was neither mountain nor tree. It was the deer crossing the clearing, the protagonist of the scene. The one on whom the painter poured all his attention: the spots on the fur, the shine of the eye, the golden reflection of his antlers as they received the light. Each line was defined, sharp, alive. His thread shone like steel at dawn, like a newly forged sword, straight and resplendent, brighter than any other Liora had ever seen, as if destiny had already traced its most golden line on him, more defined than any Liora had ever seen. Even more so than her mother's.
“He has history…” she thought. Not just the one he already carries. Also the one to come. And his story was going to be long.
And she knew it.
Because the clearer a thread was, the louder the voices were. The whispers that dwelt within it, although it was difficult for Liora to understand them all at once, she knew that the longer she was near the thread, little by little she would hear the details of the story, just as when one looks at a painting for a long time, at first glance one only sees the general image, but the longer you look, the more details you can see.
And Jaime's… spoke even at first glance. They sounded like love, pride, loyalty, and honor. And things that hurt, things that burned.
“The things I do for love…” the thread whispered to her.
And although her skin didn't tremble, something in her chest tightened. As if she had recognized a truth she couldn't yet explain.
Thinking of Jaime, her thoughts couldn't help but stray to his sister. “Cersei,” Liora recalled, as Lady Joanna and her son had named her. She thought about how pleasant Jaime had been when he guided her to her room, and her heart leaped with joy.
“A friend,” she reflected in her mind; her heart beat faster, as if she had been given an unexpected gift. “If Jaime is so pleasant, surely his sister is too.” With that in mind, Liora felt a surge of impatience; she couldn't wait to meet her; she had never had a friend her own age.
She was immersed in her excitement when she felt a knock on the door. After allowing entry, without getting up from her place on the balcony, Liora knew who had entered, just by the sound of the footsteps.
The first was light, like a drop falling from afar, so light it seems not to be there, but one still hears it, “Symmona,” she thought. And the second pair of footsteps was constant, like the beat of a calm heart, as if the person calculated each step with precision, “Rosly.” And then other steps entered, louder, with quick, careless steps, “Kassim.”
-My lady-Symmona called. -You must begin to prepare for dinner.-
-Is it time already?- Liora was surprised; she felt that no more than half an hour had passed since she arrived in the room. As she turned to look at her maids, Symmona and Rosly were her ladies-in-waiting. Symmona was the younger of the two, but the one who had been with her the longest. Therefore, she was in charge of the two ladies, despite her youth. Looking at them together was like looking at a similar painting at two different times; both calm, both quiet. But Symmona was like a wildflower in the wind; calmly, she adapted to the currents, for she knows that the wind will pass. On the other hand, Rosly is like an oak tree, straight and proud; she doesn't worry about the wind because she knows it can't knock her down.
-Yes, my lady- Symmona replied, with her characteristic calmness, taking clothes from a trunk that Kassim had just placed on the floor. -It took us longer than we thought to speak with the servants of the fortress.-
-They are a group of ignoramuses, miss, ignorant and pedantic-Kassim spoke from behind Symmona.
Kassim, thirteen (or perhaps fourteen) years old, was a young man with dark complexion and dark eyes, with curly hair worn in a braided hairstyle (“Not braids, miss, they're called dreadlocks”), which sometimes she let him help her do; it was a fun activity, especially on the boat when they had nothing to do. He had a gold earring in his right ear, which he had bought with his first paycheck. And he wore a turban, today a blue one, which generally covered part of his hair… and his neck. Kassim's neck was something that could not be ignored; on it was a scar about three fingers wide that covered the entire circumference of his neck. It was the scar of a slave collar. It was something he didn't mind hiding, never in front of her; it wasn't something he was ashamed of (“I survived, little miss, where many others did not. This is something that fills me with pride”). But he usually wears the turban, both because he likes them (he had one of every color he could find), and because he knows that in Westeros people tend to judge by appearances. Although Liora suspected that her mother or father might have made a comment before leaving High Tide, because she noticed that he wore them more regularly since they left home.
She had met Kassim in the port of Driftmark, where the captain of the ship she was traveling on had cheated him; he was supposed to take him to King's Landing, but at that moment they had told him that they would not take him any further. Kassim came from Essos, and had earned his freedom at the young age of ten.
Kassim never spoke of how he earned his freedom, at least not to Liora. But she didn't need him to tell her; Kassim's thread vibrated strongly, as if he wanted someone to hear his story, especially the day they met.
“Blood… Games… battles… Colosseum… death… Death… hope,” Kassim's thread whispered that day.
Later, as she spent more time with Kassim, Liora was able to understand more clearly what his thread wanted to tell her. Kassim earned his freedom fighting in a colosseum; he won and took everything he could, found the first ship out of Essos, and left.
-Silence, boy- a voice sounded severely; Rosly looked at Kassim with a frown. -Madam, please get down from there; it's dangerous, besides being a clear breach of etiquette. That septa should have taught you better.-
As Rosly spoke severely, she helped Liora get down from the chair with gentle and light hands. Liora had always known Rosly; she was a lady-in-waiting to her mother, Lady Alys Oakheart, and had served her mother since she traveled from the Reach to Driftmark in marriage. In fact, Rosly was probably with her mother when Liora was born, helping with the delivery. Her mother, in concern, asked her to take Rosly as her lady-in-waiting, both for her noble origin and her age and education. Rosly was, in fact, the oldest among all the retinue accompanying Liora on this trip. And the only one of noble descent; although she was from a small house in the Reach, she was more than any of the others accompanying Liora on this journey. “Besides, Mother never trusted the Septa's teachings.”
-Now that you mention it, Rosly - Liora recalled. -Where is Septa Sephora? I thought she was with you. Has she been distracted again?-
-No, miss- Symmona replied, guiding her delicately in front of the dressing table to begin preparing her. -She had to report to the Sept of Lannisport, and she wanted to meet with the Septa here. She will meet later with Kassim, when he goes to see the rooms assigned to us. Apparently, they didn't expect so many of us to come.-
-Is that so? I hope it's not a problem -Liora mentioned, glancing at Symmona and Rosly with concern.
-It's alright, little lady,- Kassim spoke from behind, heading for the door. -We're already here; it's not like they can throw us out, and if they do, I'm sure I can find at least three ways to get back in.-
-Boy- Rosly snapped severely, but Kassim had already made his escape through the door. And out of the corner of her eye, Liora saw a slight smile on Symmona's face, which soon reflected on hers.
-Blessed be the Seven, miss, between him and that septa, we're going to annoy half of the West in the first week.-
-It's alright, Rosly, I know it doesn't seem like it, but they know how to behave- Liora calmed her, as she watched her put the dress she would wear to lunch on the bed. -Besides, I prefer them to act naturally with me. And Septa Sephora, although eccentric, does no harm.-
Rosly didn't answer, but Liora noticed her lips tightening in disapproval.
Liora wasn't blind to the strangeness of her retinue; each one was unique in their own way, and she liked it that way. But there were two who stood out like two black sheep in a flock, Kassim and Septa Sephora. Kassim was somewhat logical, for obvious reasons; his appearance and history alone made him remarkable. But Septa Sephora was something different; at first glance, perhaps her most remarkable point would be her youth. She was one of the youngest septas in her order, but in appearance she was a normal, even pretty, Westerosi young woman. With honey-blonde hair and blue eyes and pale skin with freckles, she was a pleasure to behold. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why many noble houses didn't want to employ her as a teacher for their daughters. Having beauty near husbands is not something any noblewoman would want. Even her mother didn't like her very much.
But the real problem (though not for Liora) was another. Septa Sephora was a devout soul, but too energetic for most people, even in her own order. That's why they sent her to an island as far away as Driftmark, and they didn't accept her return. “Even if Mother asked for it earnestly.”
If Liora were to describe the septa, she would be a bee, always busy with something, always doing something, always vibrating, and her thread was like her, telling diverse and entertaining things. The septa was in charge of Liora's education, and educating was what she did, and she taught with pleasure. With her, Liora learned many things; she learned about the Seven gods with songs, to recognize plants, to cook; she learns new things all the time. And of course, she also taught her what was expected of her: etiquette, reading, embroidery, dance, music, etc. And she was still learning, so when the septa offered to accompany her on the trip, Mother was thrilled to get rid of the septa, but then came the worry, so she sent Rosly to balance the scales. If the septa is a bee, Rosly is a tree, straight, inflexible, and with a total belief in rules and etiquette.
For the septa, elegance and courtesy are a complement to education; for Rosly, they are a necessity for a noble. It was one of the reasons why they often clashed, never a conflict, because Rosly respected the septa as a representation of her religion, and the septa because she understood that Rosly spoke of concern in her severity, but that didn't take away from their differences of opinion.
-But I also agree with your concern, Rosly; I'm sure the septa of Casterly Rock will scream to high heaven when she finds out she's here- Liora mentioned with concern on her face. -Besides, as you mention, it seems that Lady Joanna didn't expect me to bring so many people; I hope she's not upset.-
Both Rosly and Symmona looked at her silently for a moment. Then Rosly looked at Symmona, in a silent signal that the young maid understood.
-It's alright, miss; we'll see what happens at this dinner- Symmona said softly, stroking Liora's hair with a brush. -Yes, if Lady Lannister says something, I'm sure we can arrange something. We can't worry about something that hasn't happened.-
For some reason, those words sounded like a premonition to Liora.
visalix on Chapter 3 Fri 06 Jun 2025 04:19PM UTC
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