Ambers || Jacaerys Velaryon

4. Miara

Despite the capital's beauty, Miara quickly grew bored of her role as cupbearer, finding it far from the thrilling adventure Harwin had tried to make it out to be. Her days were spent filling cups and fetching food. While Rhaenyra always thanked her, others rarely acknowledged her presence. When they did, their glances were often accompanied by grimaces. Whether with Rhaenyra or passing through the halls, the people here seemed to hold disdain for her, making Miara prefer the company of the princess' family, who were truly considerate.

Jacaerys and Lucerys were always kind, speaking to her directly and allowing her to call them Jace and Luke when no one else was around. Ser Laenor, much like his sons, would offer her a lopsided, half-drunk smile while asking for more wine. Ser Qarl, the aforementioned man's companion, though quiet, was also kind, seeming happiest when alone with Laenor and wine. Miara had hoped to see King Viserys again, one of the few who didn't look at her with disgust, but his appearances were rare. Instead, the queen often attended council meetings in his place, her eyes reflecting not gratitude but thinly veiled malice as Miara filled her cup.

Determined to find some joy, Miara began exploring the castle grounds at night. While the streets of King's Landing were lively after dark, the castle remained quiet. Miara wandered through its halls, studying tapestries and paintings, sneaking into the library to read forbidden books, and indulging in her curiosity. But soon, even that began to feel routine.

Restless, she sought more daring adventures. So, one night, she scaled the exterior hallways' arches instead, using the carved stone vines of the pillars as handholds, and sprinted across the lower roofs of the castle, relishing her freedom. She avoided detection with ease, dipping beneath open windows as she passed to ignore the whispers and moans from within them. 

As she considered heading to the Godswood to sleep in the branches of its heart tree, the clanging of metal caught her attention. Intrigued, she followed the sound to the Keep's training yard. Two figures clashed swords below her, their movements like a deadly dance; something too beautiful to be considered gruesome. One was Harwin, towering over a much shorter squire who was closer to Miara's size. With ease, Harwin disarmed the boy, sending his sword clattering to the ground. Miara watched eagerly, expecting the boy to retrieve his weapon and return the favor properly, but he sighed in frustration and kicked the blade aside.

"You give in too easily," Harwin chastises him, disappointed by the lackluster response.

"How do you expect me to hold you off?" the boy retorts, his tone laced with frustration.

"You're smaller than me. Faster. That's an advantage you've yet to use," Harwin counters. Miara silently agreed; if she were in the boy's place, she wouldn't allow Harwin to embarrass her so easily. She'd lose, she knew that much, but it wouldn't be without a real fight.

The boy huffs again, reluctantly picking up his sword only to toss it into a nearby barrel. He turns to Harwin, frowning. "You're still stronger and more skilled. You can't honestly think I stand a chance against you in actual battle."

"Perhaps not," Harwin concedes, twisting the hilt of his blade thoughtfully. "But it's almost impossible to believe in someone who doesn't believe in themselves."

The boy bows his head, ashamed. Harwin's expression softens, and he places a comforting, gloved hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Don't forget, I was a squire once, too. We all have our beginnings. If your loyalty truly lies in protecting the crown, nothing will stand in your way except yourself," Harwin says gently. "Now, go to bed. I expect you to have a clearer head for your training tomorrow."

The boy nods, offering Harwin a respectful bow before leaving. Now, it was just the Strong man below, seemingly unaware of Miara watching him from above. He went over to the weapon's barrel, beginning to wipe down the blades inside with a rag.