❛ i would not deny you of your kinghood, your grace. that much, i would not be foolish. ❜ the blacks have fully taken hold of the red keep anyhow, and aegon is dead. gone were all neith's childhood companions, and with it all the laughter and secrets and the pathways they would take as children when they navigate these halls. no more would she hear aegon's distant drunken laughter with his kingsguard, nor would she see aemond's unmistakable figure by the training grounds, neither would she hear the distant humming by her princess helaena when she inspects her many-legged creatures. all of them are gone now, and in it, is the boy who once stood so far in the distance by princess rhaenyra's side, that he might as well have been no more than a blur in her arrays of memory, is standing tall in front of her.
the strong boys, aemond's hissing mocking runs through her mind, but neith shakes that away. refuses to stoop to inane hatred that is not hers, anyway. there would be no use. it would not bring any of them back.
❛ but neither would i deny my queen helaena's reign. ❜ she meets his eyes. obedient, loyal, subservient neith — now turning her chin upwards as though she had finally understood her house's words to not bow, bend, or be broken. ❛ or will you have your northern wolf slay me for it ? ❜
@silencelaid / plotting call <3
