"HANDS TURNING LOOM...
SPOOL OF GREEN, SPOOL OF BLACK...
DRAGONS OF FLESH WEAVING DRAGONS OF THREAD..."
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Roselyn Tully-Hightower, is stuck in the middle of the Dance of the Dragon's. The sickening blow of losing her husband and newborn son...
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"I DON'T FEEL GOOD. I FEEL PAIN.."
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TEN YEARS LATER, 118 AC.
Holding onto her older brother's hand, ten year old Hera looks around the Citadel of Oldtown with a tiny frown on her chubby face. It was nothing like home. The halls were long and dark, not like the short and lively ones from home. Yes, there were paintings or tapestries in the halls, but it just lacked light and warmth. The air felt tense and cold, lacking any love, as odd as it sounded. She did not understand why he had taken her here. She did not like the way it made her feel. The way that it rubbed against her skin, like itchy lace.
"Oldtown is far from home." She comments, trying to start a conversation up.
"Yes, it is. But, not too far on dragonback, or by raven. So do not fret." He comments, his voice flat.
"Dragonback? Where would I get a dragon? I am no Targaryen." She argues, shaking her head.
"It was just an expression, dear sister." He mumbles, making her frown at how little he seemed to care of the conversation she was trying to start.
Looking up at Sam, she tilts her head to the side at the oblivious displeased look spread across his face. Perhaps, he felt the same way that she did? Gently tugging on his arm, he stops walking, turning to look down at her with a curious look on his face. Chewing on her bottom lip, a million questions floated around her head, the main one being 'Why were they here?'. Licking her bottom lip, she stares at Sam with big eyes.
"Sam? Why are we here?" She asks, her eyes darting around the hall.
"Because Father ordered it. This is neutral for us, where we can meet Lord Hobert and his son." Sam answers softly, making her frown.
"Yes, but⎯but why? Why am I here but not Jeyne? Why doesn't she have to come with us?" She rambles, "Is she better for Court matters than me?"
"Because, this is about you and your future.." Sam explains, making her grumble.
"Me?" She frowns, "What does that mean?"
He does not answer, and it makes her frown even more. If this was about her, why wasn't he telling her? Furrowing her brows together in confusion, Sam turns his eyes and head back onto the hallway ahead of them. Gently tugging on her hand, she lowered her eyes to the ground, following him as he started to walk again.
She didn't understand what he meant. What does her future have to do with being in the Citadel of Oldtown? And with Lord Hightower? Picking at her bottom lip with her teeth, her hands slip away from his. Instead, bunching up the skirt of her favorite dress. A simple obi lilac dress with gold flowers.
"Do not worry, Rose." Sam reassures, "It's nothing bad."
"You say that, now. But, I still do not understand." She pouts, shaking her head.
