Chapter Text
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It was a beautiful night.
Perfect in an almost utopian way. The moon in all its glory, the stars shining more brightly than any other night. The waves crashed serenely against the sand, so softly it’s like a velvet sheen covering the hard course sand.
The same sand now lay beneath the bare feet of Aria Galen, as she walked along the shore, eyes towards where the illuminated night met the dark black water.
She looked and looked and looked till she forgot who she was. An onlooker must have mistaken her for a ghost or a beauty of the night perhaps if she was feeling particularly narcissistic. Long hair as dark as a starless night till almost her thighs, face as pale as the moon above, her dark circles and tired expression similar to the very same blemishes that lay on the moon.
Her eyes reflected the death that reeked from her. They no longer had the light of a woman glowing with the happiness inside her. If eyes were the windows to the soul then her eyes only showed the deep black abyss. Her soul was as empty as she felt now.
She felt a presence behind her, reaching out to her. The presence wasn’t threatening at all, it felt like she knew it her entire life. It slowly caressed her arm with the gentlest of touches and led her away from the ocean.
It entwined their hands together as they climbed up the raised land covered with sand, onto the hard rocks and pebbles which now pricked her feet. They turned slowly towards the narrow pathway that led to the cliff. She could feel her feet bleeding as it caught on something sharp. She’s been bleeding a lot lately.
She stood near the edge of the cliff now, long hair blowing in wind, its slight waves carrying an inexplicable sort of grace. The warm yet cold presence slowly put its hands around her shoulders, a touch so light it could barely be felt.
The tranquil water she could see beneath her suddenly turned angry and foreboding. The presence whispered something unknown to the ocean and the night and she abruptly turned around, eyes wide. Before she could do anything, the same hands on her shoulders which were so gentle turned rough and pushed her into the dark waters.
She fell, and even as she knew she was falling to her death, her eyes couldn’t spare her any tears. Such was the fate of a woman who had the life drained from her. She couldn’t see the presence which had pushed her into the cold embrace of death yet. The familiar figure was long gone.
It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t fleeting. Time itself was be bending and slowing, in a last attempt to torture her as her life flew before her eyes. Every emotion she had felt in her life flashed before her eyes. The calm, the happiness, the joy, the pain, the hurt, the indifference and the torture.
She finally felt the ocean take her and the last sight she remembered was the night, so perfect with its bright stars. Her last thought was acceptance.
Now that everything is ruined, she can be free.
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Aria’s grey eyes opened to the dark stone ceiling above her. For a moment, not one thought entered her mind until she heard the soft chirping of the birds. She slowly rose up from the soft bed with great difficulty as every part of her body hurt and her eyes darted around the room.
This did not look like a hospital. The sight that greeted her was old stone decorated with tapestries and ornate accessories yet it still held a dark look. She found a wool blanket wrapped around her.
Is she not dead? Did somebody find her and rescue her or is this afterlife?
She slowly brought her hands infront of her, even that small movement made her muscles ache. Her hands were paler than she remembered, the blue shade of the veins even more visible. She had tiny little scars and scratched on her fingers that she didn’t remember getting.
Her confusion rising more and more as she slowly started taking in her surroundings. The room seemed more and more medieval, the longer she looked around.
She got out of the bed, her sore body aching like the mere thought of any movement was rebellion. Nevertheless she stepped out of the bed.
As soon as her feet reached the ground , pain exploded tremendously. She looked at her feet to find them bandaged. The rocks had cut her feet. She could feel the many cuts. The pain came with the onslaught of what had happened. The waves, the moon, the night and the drowning.
Black ink started seeping in her vision, she began shaking as those long black tendrils started curling around her neck, tightening with every torturous thought, suffocating her swiftly.
Snap out of it.
She took a deep breath then three more until her heart calmed down and the tears in her eyes remained unshed. She slowly stood up despite the pain in her feet and turned to walls toward the window to her left. She stood up straight for a good ten seconds before she crumbled onto the floor.
It was as she was lying on the floor that she noticed what she was wearing. Huh? She was wearing a night gown…a night gown? It was white, long and flowy. It seemed simple enough but something about how it felt as she gripped it, didn’t feel right.
Where the fuck is she?
So she did the next sensible thing to satiate her answers. Crawl over to the window and see for herself, of course.
She used the widows ledge to raise herself up. The curiosity and her fear of the unknown triumphing over the pain in her body, more specifically her feet.
Her grey eyes just so happened to reflect the sky in front of her. The sight that greeted her…was not right.
This can’t be near home. It simply couldn’t be. The sight that greeted her was the old but sturdy walls of a great build of some kind. She leaned down slightly to see the gardens below her.
It looked- it felt like a real castle or manor of some kind. It wasn’t overly opulent, it didn’t feel gaudy or something that wealthy merely lived in. Not the carefully maintained and great mansions, with every inch of the place carefully manicured. This had a feeling of dirt and grit, a feeling of hidden power resonated deep within these walls. The gardens had flowers but mud as well.
Where is she?
Just as she felt anxiety take over her, the door croaked and opened. Her eyes met the wide ones of a woman.
“My lady. Thank the gods.” she gasped. Aria noticed she was wearing a dress albeit shabby. That doesn’t look right.
“I- uhh.” she tried to get any words out but she was utterly confused.
The woman ran out of the door, and screamed, “The lady has awoken. Call the maester.”
What? Maester? What the fuck?
Her feet decided to give out at the exact moment as more people made her way into the room.
She looked up to see the people, even more strangely dressed. There was the woman from earlier and two older men stood over her.
“My lady, I cannot express how much worried all of the Ashford Castle has been during your unconsciousness.” One man said as the other motioned at the woman to help her up.
The woman supported her as she led her back to the bed, Aria was too confused to object.
“It would be wise for the lady to rest for now”, the older one of the men said in a calming tone.
As she settled back into the bed, her heart hammering and panic seized her as her eyes darted around the three people.
“Where am I?” she questioned haphazardly.
“What do you mean, my lady? You’re in your home, at Ashford Meadow”
“No this isn’t my- this isn’t my home. I-no. Who are you? Why am I here?” Aria stuttered as her breathing became more and more heavy. Her heart and head was pounding hard, she clutched her chest, gasping for breath as her vision blurred.
The voices of a panic filled her ears but she couldn’t focus on anything. This is a dream. It has to be. This is a trick of her mind.
“I am dead.” she whispered to herself and she kept on doing so as she shook in the bed, trying to get out of the bed with feet that couldn’t walk.
Arms surrounded her, trying to pull her back in the bed, trying to calm her down but she only shrunk further and further into herself. Black dots started to fill her vision.
“Bring me milk of the poppy.” she heard someone say as her vision shook more.
She remembered the smell of something earthy and medicinal as some liquid was forced down her throat and the darkness completely took over.
I am certainly dead.
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Aria opened her eyes to the cold stone ceiling again. Her eyes peered around the room, until it landed on the figure in the chair half obscured by shadows. It was the same woman from earlier, her head lolled to the side as she slept.
The room was only lit by the soft candles, and in their warm light, Aria closed her eyes again.
This is not real. This is a trick of the mind. Maybe you’re in a coma and you’re dreaming this. Maybe you died and this is afterlife. Or someone saved you and this is their home.
These were the only realities that Aria was keen on accepting.
She could hear the lady shuffling, deciding to finally get some answers, she opened her eyes and slowly got up.
The lady eyes widened as she saw her, “My lady” she said as her eyes cast downward.
“Sit” Aria motioned for the woman to get back in the chair she was just getting out of.
“My lady, you have no idea how worried every”
Why does she keep saying “My lady”?
“I have some questions.” she interrupted, trying to remain calm and rational. She was sure there was a logical explanation to all of this.
“Of course, my lady. The maester did say you would be prone to some confusion.”, the woman answered slowly albeit a bit flustered.
“Where am I”
“At Ashford Meadow, my lady”
“And where’s that?”
The woman seemed a bit taken aback by the question but nonetheless answered, “In the Reach”
“The Reach?” Aria questioned hollowly.
The lady seemed unsure as to what to say further. Aria decided to move on to the next question with “perfectly reasonable explanation” being chanted like a mantra in her mind.
She decided to ask the most important question of all, it would certainly answer all her confusions.
“What happened to me? Why am I here”Aria asked with a voice laced with fear and confusion.
“Oh my lady, don’t you remember? You were out riding, as you usually are when you fell in Cockleswent. You were found washed up on the banks of the Mander after searching for nearly three days. The whole Meadow was awash with worry. You came to us, almost dead. My lady, you had gotten so pale and your side was bleeding as well as your feet. It was a most horrifying sight. You have been abed more than a week since then.”
Aria processed that information with astonishing slowness as she remained silent and the woman in the chair became more and more unsure as to what to do.
The cockles what? The mander? This all seemed too much for her mind to take but then something clicked.
“So I drowned?” Aria asked with some hope.
“Yes, my lady. It’s a miracle you survived.”
Aria tried to make sense of it. She had drowned. She knew that of course. So the only simple explanation was that , she was found by these people. But it didn’t really make sense did it. It feels like she’s in a different era . She needed to call someone and go back home.
“Well I’d like to go home now and I’d like to make some calls, you know?”
The lady gave her an utterly bewildered look, “My lady, you are at your home in Ashford Castle.”
Aria was quite done with whatever this was now.
“No, my home, where I live in Birmingham. In England?” the last part came as more of a hopeful question than the statement it was supposed to be.
The woman herself looked helpless and shocked. “There’s no such place as England in the entire Seven kingdoms, my lady.”
“The seven what?” Aria asked bewildered. She was gripping the sheets of her bed so tight her knuckles turned white.
“The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, my lady?” she said it as if Aria was supposed to know this. Like it was natural.
Aria opened her mouth, then closed it, at loss of any words. A beat of silence passed before she willed herself to say something again.
“No, I have never heard of Westeros or the seven whatever in my entire life. Is this a prank, am I part of some elaborate joke?”
“My lady!” she exclaimed as if thoroughly scandalised by the what she had spoken.
She got up and softly put her hands on her shoulders and softly but firmly said, “You are the Lady Aria Ashford of the House Ashford, located in the Reach. The daughter of the previous lord and the sister of the current lord. Your family rules the entirety of the market and the small folk residing in the Ashford territory.”
Aria felt her heart drop as she heard this. This wasn’t a dream, this wasn’t afterlife. This was some sick trick that the fates have decided to play on her. This was not her world. Her name was still Aria, but was that all?
“I need a mirror.” she whispered to herself as she pushed the hands of the woman off her shoulders and tried to get up.
“No, my lady. You can’t get up. You need rest. These are the instructions given by the maester.” the lady looked up, almost pleading.
“Alright, then just get me a mirror.” Aria resigned, looking at the expression of the woman.
The woman got up and crossed the length of the room to open a door, she entered what Aria guessed was the dressing room and started shuffling around.
While watching the woman’s back, it’s suddenly hit her that she had not even asked for this woman’s name. She seemed so concerned for her, it made her feel a bit guilty for not having a speck of idea who she was.
“Who are you?” Aria called out, loud enough.
“I’m Mara, your lady. Have been your maid for some good years now.”
A maid? Aria grimaced slightly. Was she stuck in some feudal nightmare on top of everything.
She emerged from the small dressing room with a round mirror in her hand, she now had a soft smile on her face.
She stood over bed and handed her the mirror, Aria looked up at her properly this time.
She had wheatish hair, tied up in a bun, some hairs escaping and framing her face. She was one of those people who looked kind and she was dressed in simple clothes though out of time . She looked middle aged and had the face of someone who had worked their entire life , guessing by the lines etched on to her face.
“Don’t you find it odd that I don’t remember you.” she asked earnestly.
“Maester Gillick told me that after my lady first woke up, it would not be surprising if you were confused or didn’t remember some things. Something about the trauma from the drowning muddling your head and your humours will take some time to balance.”
“Maester?” Aria gave a questioning look.
“The Seven seem to playing some cruel trick on you, My lady. Maesters are the healers. The one that fix you up when you get hurt or give birth.” Mara shook her face is disbelief.
“So a doctor then? And what do you mean by the Seven?” Aria felt like each answer only brought more questions.
“I don’t know what a docter is. Your head must have suffered quite a lot, my lady. Seeing how you don’t even remember our Gods.” Mara answered with slight humour in her tone now.
Aria slid her gaze away from Mara and to the mirror in her hands. She slowly raised it up to look at her and…it was her. It was Aria Galen looking at her. The same eyes with the dark circles, the same nose, the same pale lips and the same tired look. But it wasn’t her, it was Aria Ashford. Some other woman in an entirely different world, who shared the same face and the same fate as her.
It began to dawn on her, that she was here, in a world she didn’t know, completely alone. What was she to do? How would she survive?
“Well, I’ll go bring you up some food and fetch the Maester now. I was told to call him as soon as you wake up and Lord Ashford shall also like to check up on his sister. “ Mara’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.
No. This is an elaborate dream. A deeply intricate labyrinth. She just needed to escape this puzzle. She needed to think rationally. She was smart. She was an accomplished doctor.
“No wait, you mustn’t go.” Aria grabbed her skirts lightly but her words were filled with sudden force. “I am confused and I don’t know anything. More people won’t help that. I feel fine, there’s no need to call the maester. Could you instead answer more questions. Please?” she said it all quickly in one breath, pleading her not to go.
She couldn’t have anyone else here. Mara seemed the reliable sort and isn’t fazed by her confusion. What if the maester could know that it wasn’t just the shock from the drowning. What if he deemed her crazy. Aria needed to learn more about this world.
“Alright” Mara plopped down on the chair she had been in before.
Aria began asking about everything. She asked about her family first.
Lord Matthias Ashford, her older brother, was married to Lady Floria Caswell and had two sons, Androw and Robert, both knighted, (because knights also existed in this world) and a daughter named Gwyn. According to Mara, the lady Floria was “cunning in a mild way” and that Lord Ashford particularly spoiled his only daughter. Aria Ashford had a good and almost fatherly relationship with her brother. Aria wasn’t particularly close to her nephews but she had always had a bond with the little Gwin.
Aria Ashford hadn’t been keen on marrying, taking an interest in healing work at a young age. The newly appointed Lord Ashford had even allowed her to quietly study healing by reading books and observing maesters at their work. It all changed when he got married.
Floria Caswell had been insistent for years to get the girl married before she left her “marriageable years”. Lord Ashword had to yield to the mother of his children and had married Aria to a greater and older house than theirs called House Rowan. There isn’t much known about her marriage to Tyler Rowan, as she had very little contact with Ashford. After nearly six years of marriage, Aria returned to Ashford as a widow. Lord Rowan had gone to hunt and returned as body ripped apart by animals. His brother, Nyles had succeeded his brother as he didn’t have any heirs of his own. Aria hadn’t seem much changed after returning, somewhat quieter but happier. She had begged her brother to let her study healing as she had done before. Thus her quiet and free like had come to fruition.
She was known to ride often, searching for medicinal herbs on forests and plains. The servants always whispered the Lady Ashford always had a somewhat melancholy appearance after becoming a widow as opposed to the clumsy and knowledge hungry child before. No one judged her for it, losing a husband in such a way was tragic.
Then Mara told her of Westeros. How Aegon I Targaryen had conquered the Seven Kingdoms with his sister-wives and three dragons. Aria had doubled over at the mention of incest and dragon but apparently such customs and creatures had existed . Up until the Dance of the Dragons, the civil war that completely upended the might of the Targaryen dynasty. She was told of the Blackfyre rebellions , how Aegon IV had legitimatised his bastards leading to the rise of Daemon Blackfyre as a claimant of the throne as opposed to the actual heir and the current king, Daeron the Good. She came to know of the princes of the realm, Prince Baelor Breakspare and Prince Maekar who were famously knows as the “Hammer and Anvil”.
She told him of the great houses and regions of Westeros. The rich Lannisters ruling over Casterly Rock, The Baratheons ruling the Stormlands, the genteel House Arryn of the Vale, The Starks as the wardens of the distant and mysterious north, the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands, the Tullys presiding over the Riverlands and of House Tyrell of Highgarden which ruled over the Reach. The Targaryens, surviving the Doom of Valyria, had always been kings ever since the conquest and continued to be even without their dragons. She listened about House Martell in the south , the only one which remained unbent and had a turbulent history of war with the Targaryens, which had only recently found peace with the marriage of Myriah Martell to King Daeron and Princess Daenerys to Maron Martell.
This was a lot of information to take in. She was going to need some books on this, a more reliable source than spoken word to understand this world.
She told her of the First Men, with their Old Gods and Wierwood trees, the Mythical Children of the Forest and the Wall. Lastly she told him of the Faith of The Seven. The new gods and the main religion of Westeros. The Father, The Mother , The Warrior, The Smith , The Maiden, The Crone and The Stranger.
And finally Mara was done.
“My lady, now that I’ve told you everything, I must insist on bringing you food and fetching the maester.” Mara said rising up from her seat.
Aria merely nodded in response. She properly lay down in her bed again and closed her eyes after hearing the door close.
So she’s in an alternate universe made up of dragon and kings and lords. It was a proper fantasy world, that’s what it was, like that Lord of The Rings and Star Wars stuff she was never interested in. She had spent most of her childhood wishing to wake up in a universe where Harry Potter was real and she was a witch. That would have been better, instead Aria found herself in a dangerous battleground. The divide between royals and nobles and the simple people was as visible as ever. The whole history and system here was fucked up. She’s in a medieval world, how is she to survive?
She was still clinging on to the belief that it was all some sort of dream but it felt too real. She felt too real. Aria Ashford felt too real to merely be a dream.
The room burst open as two figures walked in. Aria opened her eyes and sighed internally as she took in the sight of the men before her.
One was an old man in dull grey attire, the other one was younger with dark hair and wearing a green tunic.
Of course they are all wearing medieval fucking clothes, Aria thought to herself bitterly as she sat up properly on the bed.
“Sister, thank the Gods that you have finally awoken. We thought you were going to die.” the younger one said with a touch of softness to his eyes.
So that was her brother. Matthias Ashford as Mara had told her.
“Brother” she acknowledged him thought the term felt hollow and fake upon her lips.
“Aria, you still seem very shook by it all, maester Gillick told me about your confusion and panic when you first woke up. So I must insist upon a check on your wounds and your humours.”
“Alright”, she nodded, she had no idea what else to say, how to behave with her very own brother.
“My lady” the maester merely nodded as he came closer, and observing her pulse with great care.
“Your pulse is stable, my lady. That is great news, the wound at your side have already been bandaged while you were asleep, I must check your feet.” he examines as he moved to the foot of the bed, raising the blanket to check her feet.
He raised one up gently but even that movement caused pain as Aria heard herself groan slightly. He observed both the feet, touching them and making small movements.
“The feet are a problem, my lord. Aside from the small scratches, she has deep cuts on both her feet. They are stitched up but it being the feet, they are easier to reopen. It may take more than a few moons to heal properly.”
No wonder her feet felt like hell and the skin tight there, she had stitches there. As a doctor, she had given many a stitches in her life but never on the feet. It wasn’t a problem though. As long as they stayed uninfected, they would recover.
“I see”, the lord said as he took in all that information, “Though I still fail to understand how Aria came upon such wounds in the first place. The wound at her side can be explained, she must have hit a rock or a log in the flow of the river, but such deep cuts on her feet?” his voice was laced with actual concern, it made her eyes well up with tears as she remembered just how lonely she had been.
“That stumps me too, my lord. Perhaps the lady might be able to give an answer?” he inquired as both the men’s attention turned to her.
Aria felt herself freeze. She didn’t know what she could day in this situation. She thought back on what Mara had told her.
“I-I don’t remember anything. I only remember going out to ride, for herbs and it’s all blank after that.” the words scattered out of her as more tears began to well in her eyes, threatening to fall over.
God, this is stupid. She didn’t want to cry but it just happened. She couldn’t help it.
“It is perfectly fine and you need not to remember.” her brother said as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “What you must focus on is your recovery and healing properly.”
Aria had gone rather silent but she was still relieved that she wasn’t called a witch or a crazy person. She knew this fear was irrational but she had woken up in some fantasy alternate reality. Dragons and magic was real, for gods sake. Anything could happen. She needed to be careful.
“As the lord says, my lady. The mind will eventually settle itself but you shall have to be on a strict schedule for this moon. I will give you a mild dosage of milk of the poppy regularly , your diet should be nutrient rich for faster healing and I would strongly suggest bed rest. I know of your affinity to roam around and watch me work but I’m afraid that shall have to stop for now.” the master proclaimed gravely.
The grey haired Lord Ashford also nodded along, “Aria, I know how much you detest being confined but you shall have to abide by the maesters rules. Meanwhile, if there is anything that can help you through it, do not hesitate to tell me.”
Aria was touched by such a gesture but was unsure about what she could ask for, then a thought popped into her head.
“Books” she blurted out.
“Books? On what?” Lord Ashford inquired with an eyebrow raised.
“On history. Everything from basic to complex, I shall like to read it. If am to be confined to my bed, I would at least like the company of words.”
“You’ve never been much for history but I suppose a new subject will hold your interest more.” Her brother said, thinking to himself, till he finally nodded slightly. “Alright, I shall ask my steward to find all history related books and have Mara send them to you.”
“Thank you, brother.” Aria said softly, a small smile gracing her lips for the first time.
“I shall take my leave then, sister. Mara will bring the food, you shall eat heartily.” He said as he turned around and in quick strides, left the room.
Maester Gillick and Aria were the only ones in room. A hearbeat passed and then the maester also excused himself with a quick,“I shall leave you to rest, my lady.”
Then Aria was all alone.
She relaxed back on the pillow as she thought about the whole interaction. She wanted her old life back. She wanted to be in her flat in Birmingham. She wanted to get overworked at the hospital, always with a scalpel in her hand. She wanted to watch all the series and movies she had not watched and watched at the same time. She wanted to take a relaxing bath then curl up in her bed with a confronting book during the very little free time she had.
It was all empty. Every interaction with a fellow human being felt bitter and hollow to the point she had retreated as a mere recluse in her home. Her body was merely a machine, the mind no longer had any energy to think or feel. She felt as if on autopilot during her shifts and she could never really remember what happened after.
All ruined. All because of one man. All because she finally trusted someone with her heart and he decided to break it. She was doing fine, she was Aria Galen and she always got over it. Indifference was the greatest wound she could inflict on the man who, even then, came to desperately claim he only loved her and it was all a sick mistake.
It doesn’t matter anymore. She was in another bloody world. If the water hadn’t killed her, but whatever deity was out there, made it certain that she was to die in some horrible way in this ancient world.
She existed here. She was Aria Ashford. A woman with the same face and the same name. Like her, she had also been inclined towards medicine. She was a healer of some sort, like a doctor of another era from what Mara had told her. She had been married too, only Aria Ashford was widowed instead of being divorced. More importantly and painfully, Aria Ashford had a family, she had a brother who cared for her and indulged her meanwhile she had been completely alone. She envied Aria Ashford a bit.
God, she wanted to go home, she thought as she closed her eyes. The black providing more solace than the sight of old stones and wood of the room.
The door opened and she saw the plump figure of Mara, walk in. She was holding a tray full of dishes.
“Alright, my lady, the lord ordered me to make sure you eat all of this.” she stated as she set down the tray on a small table and picked it up to put it near the side of the bed.
Mara offered her arm to Aria as she got up and turned her body sideways towards the table. She looked down at the litter of dishes in front of her. One bowl seemed to contain porridge, a plate had several pieces of meat of some kind, a bird perhaps. There was also some bread at the side though it looked rather brown and a little course. A glass, no a goblet at the side. She reached for it and looked at the content insides. It was wine, she observed as she smelled it. There were some earthy undertones to it as well.
She looked up at Mara, who was standing near, oozing with silent amusement and inquired, “What is in this?”
“Some milk of the poppy for your pain, my lady.”
“Oh”, Aria nodded and looked down at the red liquid.
She smelled it more properly this time. She didn’t know what milk of the poppy was but it must be a kind of opiate if it numbs the pain. She shuddered at the choice of wine to accompany it. Of all things, wine was chosen for the patient. She shouldn’t disapprove of it this much. In her regular world, this era would be set in some centuries back. They probably didn’t have a proper drainage system, forget the evolution of medical sciences.
She looked at the food again and decided that she was quite hungry. She leaned in and grabbed the wooden spoon. She swallowed a spoonful of porridge. It was quite bland but it would have to do for now. She tried the bread next and surprisingly it was soft and tasted good.
She finished the porridge at an alarming speed, the lack of any flavour did not stop her hunger.
She sceptically chose the leg of the meat that was on the plate. It must be a bird like chicken or quail, or it could be a rodent, Something akin to roadkill in her world. She frowned slightly at the thought and looked to Mara, who was now foraging through what must be a wardrobe.
“What sort of meat is this, Mara?”
“It’s rabbit, my lady.”
Aria’s frown deepened, she knew that a lot of people ate rabbit but it was something that she had never tried neither wanted to.
She looked down at the meat and thought that it must have had been skinned and then roasted. She came to the decision that her starvation was much more harder to ignore than the dead animal in front of her as she took a small bite. It’s not bad. It’s seasoned at the very least, definitely salted generously and there was pepper added as well. Aria deemed it acceptable and took another bite.
Ten minutes later, the tray only held empty dishes except the still half full goblet of wine. Aria was tentative about drinking it. She had only indulged in the form of tiny sips between bites.
It was supposed to help her with the pain though. The side of her waist still throbbed in a dull way and she was painfully aware of the fact that her feet were stitched up.
She grabbed the cup and took big gulp. There was still some left but that should have been enough.
Mara was also done, folding the clothes and came over to collect the tray.
“I’ll leave you to rest now, I shall come up every once in a while if you need anything.” she said as she turned towards the door.
“Thank you” Aria murmured as she settled back on the bed.
“You’ve always been to polite for your own good, thanking a mere servant.” she laughed softly and left the room.
Aria huffed and lay down properly, feeling too drowsy to think and slowly drifted to a deep sleep.
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Baelor Targaryen entered his father’s chamber with secret trepidation. The whole room was flushed with warm light of candles and fire.
The king, silver haired and violet eyed, one could clearly see the blood of Old Valyria running through his veins in stark contrast to his first son who had the sun-kissed features of Dorne with only one lilac eye accounting for the Targaryen in him.
The king was sitting in his chair besides the hearth lit by fire.
“Sit” his father said motioning to the chair in front of his.
He obliged and he sat down, his back straight and his countenance soft yet careful as always.
He stared at the deep purple of his father’s eyes, the white lashes framing them delicately.
“You already know what this is about, son.”
“I am aware and I believe you know about my thoughts on this topic.”
Baelor began to play with the ring on his left hand, twisting it around his finger as he waited for his diplomatic king to mage his argument.
“You must marry, Baelor. For the sake of the realm. You are the Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne. As much as I would like believe otherwise, I am old. The future King must have a queen.”
“I do not understand the need to marry now. I know I shall marry eventually but I have no need for it. I have two sons. Two heirs.” Baelor replied calmly.
“For nearly a decade now” the king began, “I have stalled this out of respect for you and Jena. It cannot be just purely out of love for your late wife , for I know you had very little. You just-”
“There may have not been any fairytale love between me and Jena”, He boldly interrupted, “She was still my wife and the mother of my children. I will always remember her with deep affection and respect.”
“Then what is it, son?” his father asked him, “These lords are like vultures, desperate to thrust their own daughters upon you for a chance to place them as queen.” the king continued, “I am trying to help you. I am giving you a choice that I wasn’t able to last time. Find a bride who’s amenable to you. Maybe someone you may even have a happy life with. It must happen before you get tied up in another politically arranged marriage due to some overeager lords harebrained schemes.”
Realistically, his father made sense but this is what Baelor was trying to avoid. He had given his entire life to duty as the heir and the prodigal son but that duty always found some new way to chase him.
He looked at the flames in the hearth and thought deeply. He did not want another marriage. He had gotten somewhat lucky with Jena. There was no love or passion but there was understanding. She didn’t hold what was not possible from him as a noose like some new younger wife from the great houses would. His comforts in life majorly consisted of his sons and that he had not dissapointed Jena. She had understood his duty and how it burdened him.
“If…”, Baelor exhaled slowly, “If I am to find a wife, of my own choosing. It would certainly not be a young girl who could pass as my daughter nor someone who solely wants a political advantage. I will not give these lord someone to use as a pawn. I am also not a bumbling green boy merely looking for something that looks pretty on my arm.”
“Of course, son” King Daeron stated, stroking his beard, almost smiling now, “You did your duty with your first marriage. Your mother and I have raised you right, we know you will not make a choice without any sense and deliberation.”
Baelor was staring even more intensely at the fire, “I will find a widow.” he stated and his father’s eyebrows rose a little bit. “Yes, a widow would be most suitable , preferably from a lower and a less ambitious house. Surely, a widow might be a more wise choice. Close in age, intelligent, and politically aware enough to be queen. Someone sensible with her own interest and passions.”
He looked up to see his father looking more amused than ever. Baelor sighed and continued, “It may be too much to hope for to find such qualities in one singular lady, I’m aware. I believe an understanding can be reached, if my bride has lived as much as life as I have and suffered the same losses.”
“A widow is an interesting yet sensible choice and I would normally disapprove of someone from a weaker family but with Valarr’s upcoming betrothal to the Tyroshi girl, it is compensation enough. I do hope you find someone that matches what you wish for.”
“I believe I shall take my leave now. I will do my best to not disappoint you in this endeavour.” Baelor said with a hint of a smile and his father nodded at him giving his acknowledgement and dismissal.
The mention of his son being so close to married life made him feel old. He knew thirty and six wasn't old but he felt as if he had lived twice that amount by now.
Valarr was too much like him for his own good. He had told him from the start that it would be perfectly acceptable if he did not wish to marry Kiera but his son insisted that not only was it his duty to do so, but he also found himself drawn and interested in the pink haired girl after a handful of conversations.
He remembered how his son had averted his eyes and had practically gone red in the face. In that moment, Baelor had felt envy run through him, towards his own blood and kin. They had agreed to set up a betrothal to give them more time to know each other.
He walked the vast halls of the Red Keep as Sir Willem followed him silently.
His thoughts still on the conversation that had transpired between father and son. He quietly made his way up the Tower of the Hand and to his chambers.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he loosened his tunic before sighing and sat down in his chair behind his writing desk.
He poured himself some Dornish red as he felt the headache blooming into something more painful. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
He needed to find a bride upon all the responsibilities now. He will need to draw up a list of suitable widows, not to mention attend feasts and tourneys. He would have to be deliberate in his choice. Someone mature and intelligent, someone fit to be his queen. He did not expect love or such silly notions, he would only get what he was willing to give which was loyalty and devotion.
Gods, where was he to find such a woman.
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