𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 || Cregan Stark

21 | Tides of War

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
T I D E S O F W A R

-

"Where are you going?"

The words empty from her, a whisper, echoing through the corridor like a reverberating shudder.

Torches decorate the elongated pathway, casting a gentle, golden hue over Rhaenyra's silver locks. Still, the warmth does not seem to reach her.

Viserra stares at her mother, her brows knitted together in quiet suspicion.

At first, the queen does not answer— rather, her face bears the same solemn countenance she has worn continuously for the last few weeks. Stern and hard-held.

But then, with her sworn guard following closely behind, she steps towards her wary daughter.

"There is something I need to do," she says, her fingers gently clutching onto the fabric of her garments; a simple, grey cloak.

"At this hour?"

"It will take some time, but I shall return, soon."

Soon, she says. Soon.

She knows it is no use to ask. No use at all. No avoidant response from her mother would aid her surmise– so what point was there to try?

And so, Viserra says nothing more. She only offers a faint nod of her head, her face half-hidden in the dim light.

The queen mirrors her expression, before turning her heel and descending the narrow stairs, her figure becoming one in the dark.

-

"She could have left a message," Jace murmurs, his tone low and measured.

"I think she would have, had she thought it necessary."

Her brother turns to face her, the ends of his mouth twisting into a frown.

"And why didn't she think it necessary, hm?"

Light pours into the council chamber, elating the images along the painted table, where they stand alone. It feels strange to be in a room that is usually so awake with talk and eager disposition— but now lies barren and bare.

Viserra leans against the hardwood table, her arms crossed over her chest.

She does not share her brother's irritant proclivities at this moment. She knows it would add nothing to their situation. Still, she feels a faint bitterness seeping through her bones, lingering in the ever-present, refusing to surface.

"The council already speaks against her in almost all subjects of matter," Jace says. "This does not help."

"Perhaps that is why she didn't tell them."

"And us?"

She sighs. "I suppose she doesn't want us to worry."

"Ah well, she's not really good at that, is she?" he mutters. "Casting us into the dark whilst she plots and ponders..."

"She thought it well enough to leave us here to govern in her place," Viserra says.

"Except it wasn't us she left in charge was it? It was Rhaenys."

"Rhaenys is dependable," she says, sounding almost convinced by her own words.

"And we're not?"

His fierce discontent elicits a smile from her, though she does not mean to. Her brother's temper has, after all, a tendency for amusement.

Viserra presses her lips together to suppress the emerging mirth.