THE look on serra’s face was all too familiar to lysa. she’d seen the exact same expression on her brother’s face so many times in the years they spent together. she’d eventually learned not to take that look of annoyance too personally, and perhaps that was not a lesson learned for the better. “i…uh… accidentally tore a hole in one of queen wylla’s dresses. maybe hole is too dramatic a word. a minor tear is better.” the more she spoke, the more nervous she grew. “i tried to fix it but i’ve always been hopeless with such delicate needlework i was so scared i’d make it even worse and the last thing wylla needs right now is more bad news…” lysa took a deep breath, then looked at serra pleadingly. “can you help?”
another day , another chore , it seemed , while serra was terribly greatful for her position , after all , who would of thought of putting a lannister by the side of a targaryen , but day in and day out it seemed there was little left too herself , if it wasn’t the queen needing her , it was someone else . ‘ and how did you manage to do that lysa ? ’ other lady’s wouldn’t of had her so informal , but this little slip of a girl , small and dark haired , was once practically family , she cared little for titles around her . ‘ if not , i know a person , take me to it . ’
