“Our Queen to be,” Rhaenys remembered the tenderness in which her grandmother had said the words. Not only once, but repeatedly all through her childhood. The Red Keep had been as much of a home as Dragon Stone had. The halls had been her playground. The Throne Room had been her school room, where she had learned of all the lords and strongholds.
Her footsteps echoed as she stepped into the Throne Room. Empty, quiet. It no longer felt quite as free as it had when she was young and sitting on her grandfather’s knee. A soft chuckle rose to from her throat, what a distraction she must have been. Rhaenys stepped closer to the Iron Throne. Her father hadn’t lived long enough to ascend to the throne. Would her place in court be different if he had? Rhaenys wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure she even wanted it to be different.
Rhaenys turned to look at the pillar depicting her beloved grandfather. She was the oldest descendent and now she and Corlys were the only ones left. She grabbed her gloves from her belt, her intend to go down to Meleys and take her out, however her feet had carried her to the Throne Room, as her mind had wandered off.
Starter for @black-queen-rising
