Surviving

Chapter 47: The Girl Who Stole From Vipers

Little seven year old Luke was quiet as he slipped into the darkened room, hearing the faint sniffling from across the room. He was so shaken up from the gruesome fight in the caves with their uncle, but he was especially worried after their time with their grandsire and the queen.

He'd clung to his sister almost the whole time in case anyone tried to come near her. Not once had he ever seen his sister so violent, so ruthless. It terrified him at first, until he saw his sister drop the dagger quickly and collapse to her knees in tears, reaching for the one she maimed. He didn't want anything to happen to her when all she'd done was protect them.

"Sister?" His small voice called out when he saw the small lump on her bed, but she never spoke a word. She just remained silent with the furs pulled over her completely as he slowly approached her. "Naer?"

A small, pitiful whimper came from under the furs and Luke frowned, feeling his heart sinking in his chest.

"It's just me, sister..." He gently poked at her, but she just shrunk more into herself under the covers. He let out a quiet pout, climbing up onto the bed and lifting the furs for him to slide under and join her.

Her head tilted up seeing her little brother curling up in front of her, hiding away from the world with her. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion at first, but then his little hand reached for hers and his eyes remained focused on their intertwined hands.

He kept quiet at first, watching how she silently wept with her grip tightening over his hand. In his entire short life, he'd never seen his sister so broken and helpless. He didn't know what to say or do to calm her down, or how to even be the brother she needed. All he could do was lay there with her and wait. But there was something that bothered little Luke about their fight with their uncle.

You'll die screaming in flames just as your father did.

The words struck Luke as bizarre, seeing as how their father was still alive. It puzzled the young prince every minute since and at first he brushed it off as an empty threat from their deranged uncle.

Yet there was one he knew who died screaming in flames.

Ser Harwin Strong, their mother's sworn protector.

Luke had believed his whole life his darker features were from their grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, since she was also a Baratheon. It was all the explanation Luke needed as a young boy, but the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together.

He remembered how his sister responded when Ser Harwin died, shutting down completely and hardly even speaking to anyone around her. He thought of the way his sister would perk right up if she ever saw the Lord Commander around or how soft he always was for her. Yet she never showed Ser Laenor that same enthusiasm.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, Luke..." Her voice cracked as she sniffled.

"You don't need to apologize, sister. You were only protecting us." Luke spoke softly with his other hand coming to cover their intertwined hands.

"That is not protection! That was...that was..." She didn't even know what to call it, but she knew it was nothing to be proud of. She hated herself for what she had done. Word would spread quickly that she was a vicious, heartless bastard. A monster, that's what they would call her. "I should've never reached for that blade."

"But it stopped the fight, Naer." He said.

"And started a war." Her eyes flickered up to his and he could see the regret dancing in her brown eyes. He couldn't imagine having to be in her position for one second and what the weight of that burden felt like to carry.