CHAPTER TWO † heart of rot
❝ supper and sweets ❞

SUNSET HAD ALREADY BEGAN when they arrived at The Red Keep. the dark would come quick, and while these nights weren't as cold as the north—they had the possibilities to be just as unforgiving. Saskia pushed forward, urging the group to finish their travels without an additional day.

Sharlette still lingered of sleep, her tiredness brought on by nightmares of fire and death. She had spent a large amount of their last night on this journey studying. Before forcing herself to close her books, she had spent hours reading about Targaryen history. While it was knowledge she previously possessed, she was terrified of not being well versed in it enough. She was going to King's Landing. Understanding its history was crucial to her. Along the way she got distracted in reading about Valyria, hence the dreams of fire and death.

The last hours of travel were pure vexation—exhausting and uncomfortable. Even the guardsmen didn't hide their unhappiness, sighing and huffing every so often. The young Stark was growing impatient, but held her tongue. Saskia had seemed unbalanced, which was odd for Sharlette to see. Saskia was a pillar that never cracked or crumbled. She was not one to show any form of weakness. In those final hours before their arrival, Sharlette had seen Saskia look more unlike herself by the minute. Fear radiated off of her, or worry, or dread—The stark wasn't sure if it was any or all.

It was much louder in King's Landing, That was what she first noticed. Then it was the difference in smells and varied the appearances of people. Northerners had a strong look to them, very distinctive. King's Landing seemed to have a slew of people from all over. Sharlette was fascinated with it, curious to study all of the different features a person's face could have.

"Will they meet us at the gate?" Sharlette asked, picking her head up to await Saskia's answer. Her mentor sighed a soft laugh. Rhaenrya could possibly be waiting at the gates, she wasn't positive of course—but the chances were slim. The Princess may have asked for her return, but Saskia had no doubts the Queen had no wish for this reunion. To keep things as amicable as possible they would be brought to the Princess instead, Saskia assumed. When the gates opened guardsmen were there to greet them, as she had told Sharlette.

Two older guards emerged, one with deep tawny hair and the other donning golden blond tresses. The dark haired guardsman offering only the words "follow me" To Saskia. She turned to her ward, giving her a small smile.

"I'll come to your quarters once I'm done." She reassured, giving her one last look before following the guard down one of The Red Keep's corridors. Sharlette watched as she fell out of view. Her stomach churning with nerves as she now felt alone in such a foreign place. Saskia told her that she would have to be absent for the majority of their stay. Sharlette knew this would be something she had to become accustomed to.

The blond guardsmen approached Sharlette, Larence, and her guardsmen. "Lady Stark, I will be escorting you to your quarters." The man spoke, his voice deep and cordial. Sharlette nodded. Stepping forward, her path straight ahead—until a hand shot in front of her.

"I will accompany Lady Stark, as I am her sworn sword." Larence spoke unwaveringly. His words were clear and pointed, as Sharlette took a step back behind his outstretched hand.

"As you wish." He murmured, turning and walking ahead without another word. Sharlette gave Larence a look of apology for almost going with the guard, but he gave her a generous nod—leading the girl to believe she did nothing wrong.

Sharlette wished that Saskia had not been whisked away the way she was, there was so much to learn about this castle. It was so big, so grand. There was names for rooms and corridors—And miscellaneous cupboards and closets scattered throughout the halls. Though Sharlette assumed Winterfell also felt elusive to those who were not raised within its walls. It was quite the busy castle, bustling with people in every hall. She wondered if it ever truly became quiet? Maybe once nightfall came.

Larence and Sharlette passed The godswood. She peeked, looking around at everything she could. the young girls' eyes lingered, and she found herself captivated by beauty. Not the beauty the godswood had to offer—while it was vast and rich in it—her attention was pulled elsewhere. She found herself struck by the shining silver hair and soft blue dress worn by who she assumed was the younger princess, Helaena.

The Stark had never seen such loveliness before. Her skin was like porcelain and beamed in the sun. The girl almost seemed to glimmer, though she was not quite as pale as Sharlette. Her hair was startlingly light, as was her lilac eyes. Even from afar, she could see their hue and was left breathless. Targaryen beauty was legend, known and recognized throughout Westeros. It was in the history books Sharlette read and memorized, but she had never seen it for herself. It was arresting. stealing any and all thoughts she could have had; And replacing them with exotic colored irises and white eyelashes.

Larence slowed when he realized the girl was no longer trailing behind his heels. Giving her a questioning look, he called her name. She was too consumed, her gaze fixated on the way the Targaryen in front of her inspected the flower she held. The silver haired princess picked and pulled at the petals in hand. In her own world, and unaware of heisting Sharlette's rapt regard.

Larence repeated her name, and this time earned a hazy blink in recognition. Sharlette hesitantly followed forward. Her eyes lingered on the young Princess until the distance grew too far, making it impossible to view her.

The entire walk to her chambers Sharlette only thought of one thing; How she wished to look like a Targaryen. With lilac eyes and hair light as snow, they didn't look real. Sharlette was envious of that level of beauty. She had light sandy brown hair from her mother... Light enough that some mistook it for blonde. Her brother Cregan had hair similar to hers when he was younger, but with age it had darkened into the traditional Stark brown. Sharlette's remained light, and Saskia said that in the sun it would lighten further. While she wished to look like a Targaryen, she often wished to look more like a Stark. To have dark ebony hair and a long face. She was proud to carry her mother's hair, but shamefully longed for her father's smokey grey eyes and crooked nose.

By the time they reached her quarters both of the northerners were at their fill with sightseeing for the day. She would explore another day, the journey had tired her anyways. Larence was still on guard, but Sharlette was free to roam in her quarters. The guard who escorted them left hastily after they arrived, not seeming interested in the guests presence. It worked in Laurence's favor, as he was tired of the bothersome small talk some guardsmen offered. He was much more content to stand guard for the Lady Stark in silence and solace.

Once they were parted, Saskia felt her duties shift and her priorities realign. For many years she had served the Starks, and when you serve another with complete faith—you take on a different role in oneself. You are no longer thinking or breathing for only one. You enmesh into their lives as a protector and watcher. Saskia had now returned to The Red Keep, and was thrust back into thinking for only herself. She would never dare abandon her duties to the young Stark, but in the moments where she was absent... it was up to Saskia to decide things for herself.

The halls she once saw every day had changed little in the passing years. Though there was subtle aging that could be detected. It was still as grand and royal as she remembered, maybe even more so. The door creaked as it opened, the sound reverberating through the hall as it always had. Little sounds and sights brought Saskia back to when she was seventeen. It reminded her of her father. She didn't allow herself to think of him often, those memories were left jagged in her mind.

The door revealed a figure she could spot blind, her Princess. She nodded off the guard who opened the door, discarding him as she was distracted. Rhaenrya turned, her silver hair falling behind her shoulders. There she is, a unanimous thought between the women. Her posture was unbent. It seemed that she stood taller and with more backbone. Saskia almost faltered, taking an extra moment to look at her before speaking. For so long she had wondered what Rhaenyra would look like. Saskia herself had aged and wore it well, though she would humbly deny it if someone were to say so.

"Your Grace." Saskia spoke, the tone of her voice laced with history and familiarity. It rolled out of her mouth, almost like a sigh. It had been years since their eyes gazed upon each other, and yet, the ardor behind them remained.

"Ñuhys raqiros" the princess muttered, a term of endearment or a plea... it didn't matter.

While Saskia was molded to the ground, Rhaenrya found herself quickly across the room. Even after the long trip out in the sun, Saskia still held a chill on her skin. As they had always been, Rhaenrya was the complete opposite. Her skin was warm and un-calloused; her gentle hands resting on her old companion's back.

"Oh how I've missed you." She breathed out while remaining in the embrace. The feeling of each other's frame was a comfort sorely missed.

"As I you, my Princess." Saskia said in a grievous chuckle, it had been too long. It shouldn't have ever been this long, another unanimous thought they shared. Saskia missed so much, she hated it, loathed the idea of how much time had gone by while apart from Rhaenrya.

"Come." The princess reluctantly left the embrace. Her arms dropped down, her hand grabbing Saskia's with a gentle pull—An action that years ago would happen daily. She led her to a chaise in her chambers, sitting down closely beside her.

"Tell me of your time in the north."

The room was big... Sharlette thought. Her bed was the same size as back home. A moon had passed since she slept in a bed so big. Sharlette sat down, bouncing up and down a few times to get a feel for the mattress. The inn's mattress wasn't as wide or as comfortable. Larence could hear the frame creaking and the faint sound of giggles from the outside the door—His blank expression struggled to keep its form. Once the bed had been throughly inspected, Sharlette took responsibility of unpacking her belongings.

There wasn't much, she didn't want to lug around Heaps of her stuff. She brought a generous amount of clothes, parchment, ink, her diary, one of her stuffed dolls that she liked to sleep with, and her sword. It wasn't technically hers... yet. Saskia told her that she had to complete her training before it would technically be hers, then and only then would Sharlette be able to name it. Many names circled through her mind but none had stuck yet. It would come to her when the time was right.

The sword was large for her stature, but she was instructed that it's better she learn to adapt to any sword—even if ill suited and unmatched to who wields it. The hilt was a ruby red, and the pommel was carved to resemble a human heart. Saskia said this was gifted to her by her father, and she would give it to Sharlette as she had no kin by blood. She unsheathed it, paranoid it somehow was damaged in the long journey. Luckily, it was unharmed.

Sharlette wondered where to put it, surely maids would stumble upon it if it was left with her other belongings... where could it be hidden? There was an armoire in her quarters, but that would easily be discovered... under the bed seemed unwise as well. Prancing around the room, she stopped and observed each spot to see if it would be suitable. Nothing worked well enough.

Unbeknownst to Sharlette, A pair of boots made their way towards the Stark's quarters, walking in rhythm until reaching the door stuck between corners. At this movement and sound the guardsman flinched, his head snapping towards the footsteps. The sound of his armor turning echoed down into the hall.

"Woah there Poole, I wish you no harm." Saskia laughed, looking at the easily startled guardsman.

Larence loudly exhaled, his hands moving from his scabbard to fix a fallen strand of black hair from his face. "I apologize my lady, this place will take adjusting."

"Don't, I might not have been an unwelcome guest..." Saskia walked closer to him, her voice lowering and gaze intensifying. "But there are swarms of them here... Lady Stark needs someone who is weary of what's coming around these corridors." Larence wasn't a scared man, nor a nervous one, but her tone had caused him to doubt those statements. "We all do in here." She finished, moving back to face the door wholly now.

"Yes, my lady." He nodded. His voice was quiet while he moved over and made way for her to enter. He would soon flinch again, this time due to the force of Lady Stark's door being slammed shut.

"Seven hells child what are you doing with that out!" Saskia shrieked, her eyes becoming manic. Her voice startled the young girl, causing her attention to turn to the door behind Saskia that was loudly slammed.

"I.. I was trying to hide it." Sharlette stuttered out, the sword starting to feel heavier in her hand. Saskia didn't look pleased. Even though her mentor was the most gentle person she knew... her temper still burned as hot as anyones when roused.

"What if it was not me that walked in, hm?"
Saskia scolded, walking over and quickly snatching the hilt from her hands. "—They would have taken this for sure—" She lifted the sword away and found its sheath sprawled on the bed. "—and who knows what they would've done after seeing you take it out of your personal belongings."

"I thought hiding it away would be safer, in case someone were to go through my stuff." Sharlette tried to reason, though her voice was quite meekly and her face was somehow paler. Saskia sighed, she could deal with this later. Sharlette awaited her next statement, expecting to be told what else she had done wrong, but it never came.

"You need to change." Saskia said without looking at the guilt ridden girl in front of her.

"If they look through your belongings then they would be out of line, you are a Lady, a Stark, it is not their business." The dark haired woman strode across the room, looking through a chest of clothes. Pushing aside dresses of different lengths, nightgowns, and daywear. She placed the sword at the wooden bottom of the chest, covering it in the fabric of Sharlette's clothes.

"Here" Saskia pulled out a dress before closing the chest.

"Why must I change?" Sharlette inquired, the guilt fading away and being replaced by confusion.

"We are to have supper with the Princess and her sons." Saskia hurriedly responded, knowing what she would have to deal with in a moment. To no surprise Sharlette had returned to her even paler state, this time her expression of choice was not guilt—but fear.

"It will be alright. Listen, wear this." Saskia handed the dress over to Sharlette, moving the girl's arms and clamping them around the dress to make sure it didn't fall to the floor.

"It will be alright." She repeated before turning towards the door. Stopping for a moment, she added, "brush your hair."

Larence escorted the Stark down to the dining hall. Along the way he had to ask one of the guardsmen which corridor to follow, as The Red Keep was unknown to him. By the time they reached her quarters the girl was exhausted and found it hard to pay attention to the castle's interior. Now, her curiosities had rekindled after her bout of rest. It was quite different from Winterfell in every way.

The colors, the textures, definitely the smells. While it was somewhat relieved while inside the castle, on their journey in—the smell of King's Landing burned in Sharlette's nose. When she pinched her nose in an attempt stop the stench it was to no avail. It was heinous and a smell so vile she was brought to tears, partly from the smell, but mostly at the idea of living in such a scent.

The castle so far had seemed quite the sight, but Sharlette still found herself comparing it to her home. She did not know if it was out of preference or familiarity, regardless, she preferred the aesthetics of Winterfell. Whether she felt the same about the people was yet to be determined.

After a walk that seemed far too long to the Stark, they had reached the dining room. It seemed to be a smaller and private room in comparison to where they would dine larger guests. They were early, only the servers were there. Sharlette tensed at this, looking over to Larence for some reassurance and only finding him just as uncomfortable.

It was too warm, the girl thought. The dress she wore was one of the nicest she possessed, but it was a dress made for a Stark. The sleeves were long, falling past her wrist but ending before her knuckles. The garment itself was the color of slate, and unlike most of Sharlette's dresses, had no accents of fur. Saskia thought it was best to have her in something less noticeable. Plain was safest and would hopefully not draw any unnecessary attention to her young ward. The fabric itself was thick and insulated, as any dress made for a stark was... it was made to be worn in the north.

The table was grand even for a smaller dining room. Candles illuminated the room, a warm glow filling the space. This was similar to Winterfell, the soft heat coming from fireplaces and candles, the dark wooden furniture, the lace table settings. It was a comforting sight, one that put Sharlette at ease for the time being. To her luck, Sharlette wouldn't be alone much longer.

Saskia made her way into the room. She was wearing a nice dress, nicer than anything Sharlette had ever seen her in. In Winterfell Saskia wore the same clothes as any other maid who served the family. It was odd to see her dressed this way. The dress was a light lavender color, similar to the hue in the Princess's eyes. The tones in the fabric contrasted to her dark skin. The young Stark was left enchanted at the sight of her mentor.

She made her way to Larence, bending towards his ear and whispering something Sharlette wished to hear but was unable to. Her face contorted to curiosity, unaware of why the message must be confined to only the pair. The confusion didn't last, Sharlette soon realized what was the cause of this secrecy when the Princess strode in with her sons... and the Queen following closely behind with her own children accompanying her. The Queen quickly seated herself as people littered around the room.

Sharlette was overwhelmed with the sudden rush of company. For the entire journey to King's Landing, she was surrounded by a small group that was familiar and known. Larence and his guardsmen might not have been names she was aware of beforehand, but they lived in Winterfell for quite some time. Their faces weren't new, nor was Saskia's. Now, she sat at that dark wooden table that reminded her so much of home, and every face she looked upon was unknown.

It was a startling contrast, the warmth in the room, the candlelight, the dress she wore... they all brought her memories of Winterfell, and the security of its embrace. When her eyes moved from those things and found themselves on the strangers before her... that comfort, that security, it was ripped away. Torn from her hands so harshly it almost shed skin. Fear arose in her once again, whatever comfort the candles and table brought was trivial now. She was dining with almost the entire Targaryen household.

The Queen was different than what she expected, younger. She was a beautiful woman with auburn hair and doe eyes. Her skin held a gentle blush and small freckles that were hard for Sharlette to see... but she saw them. The King did not accompany them, much to Sharlette's relief. To have dinner with the king of Westeros was something the poor girl could not fathom just yet. Though it would be come sooner than later.

"The King will not be joining us tonight."Rhaenyra's voice lightly echoed in the room as she approached the table. She didn't expect him to indulge his daughter, as he was opposed to Saskia returning. Same as Alicent, but her quarrels with Saskia's return sprouted from a different point.

The Princess was everything Saskia said she was and more... her hair a silvery white and her eyes a mesmerizing lilac. She was breathtaking in every way, Sharlette thought she might be the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. No, she had to be, Sharlette declared in her mind, she hadn't seen anything comparable to that level of beauty. Since earlier that day while passing the godswood at least...

Saskia's eyes darted up, finding her ward. Wherever she was in her mind was irrelevant, the young girl was snapped from that place on instinct—looking to Saskia. She widened her eyes, instructing Sharlette to stand. Rhaenyra offered Sharlette a smile as the girl shakily stood from the table, bowing her head.

"Your grace, this is Lady Sharlette Stark." Saskia spoke, The Princess's gaze settled on the girl, taking in her appearance. She was tall, slim and ghastly pale. Even for a northerner. "I have taken her on as a ward for my stay in The Red Keep."

"Your grace..." Sharlette was hesitant to speak, each time the words reached her lips they fell off just as quick. Eventually, she made them stick and spoke. "Saskia has uttered the most splendid words in recollection of you... I am very grateful to meet you."

The Queen cocked an eyebrow "Saskia, is it now?" She scoffed. Sharlette was confused by her offense. Unaware that they had any sort of past, Saskia never spoke of it. Never spoke of her. It was always Rhaenrya, always. The Princess cut back in, catching the Stark's attention again.

"I'm very glad to have you here, Lady Sharlette. It seems we have known our common friend with different names..." Even if everyone else was a listener, Rhaenrya spoke clearly to the Queen in that moment. Her eyes remained on the Stark, never wavering, but everyone could see otherwise.

"Though, she remains loyal as ever." This time her gaze broke away from Sharlette, falling back to Saskia. The Queen looked away, darting back and forth from her napkin to one of the boys across the table.

"Enjoy your meal my dear, you've had quite the long journey it seems." For the first time since she entered the room, the Queen looked at Sharlette. Her gaze was now softer, though still visibly tense, she spoke tenderly to the girl.

"Thank you, your grace." After the formalities had passed, supper was brought out by the staff. It was a splendid arrangement, and ever so grand. Winterfell was not modest in their feasts either, Sharlette expected this. There was much to choose from, but she decided that she had ventured outside her comfort enough for one day. Simplicity would prevail over frivolity for the tonight. She settled with the roasted boar that was served.

Alongside the boar, her cup was filled with wine. Sharlette didn't like the taste, or the smell, or the way it made her mouth feel afterwards... but she had traveled a long way, it felt fitting for even just a sip in honor of their long journey. Her sandy brown hair was tucked behind her ear as she bent over her cup to smell the drink. Sharlette had to consciously mind her manners so she wouldn't scrunch her face in disgust. The smell never changed, it was always overly bitter and all too sweet at the same time.

Eventually she closed her eyes and tilted the cup towards her lips. only a small portion made its way into her mouth before she abruptly stopped. One sip was plenty enough to honor her travels... even if it wouldn't settle and leave a tang on her tongue. The white haired boy directly across from Sharlette found her hesitation to swallow amusing, covering up a laugh in a cough. He was the eldest of the children.

Tall and slender, Sharlette took note of him before she sat down. His hair was long, quite long for a boy, she thought. She liked it. All of the lilac eyed children left her beguiled. No matter how much he snickered at her youthfulness in a cup of wine, that wouldn't change. Though some of the children caught her eye more than the others, the younger Princess kept her attention most.

She was special. They were all an unknown beauty, but she kept the young girl's attention unbridled. Sharlette couldn't tell you if she ever heard the Princess speak above a whisper while at the table. She did speak though, in whispers, but only to herself. The boy next to her didn't even seem to notice, he must be used to it. The last prince with white hair was so still and quiet that the young Stark almost missed him when he walked into the dining room.

While sharlette watched his two siblings, he watched her. The few times their eyes met left them looking away in a hurry, awkward and uncomfortable in their blinks. Sharlette decided it would be best to not look his way to hopefully avoid another exchange happening. She didn't look at him for the rest of supper, he did not do the same.

Dessert was served shortly after supper was whisked away and the table had been cleaned by staff. Sharlette always thought that those who worked in the kitchens must hate the smell of food. Sharlette grew tired of the smell of burning wood, the scent always lingered on her skin and clothes... surely it was the same for kitchen workers?

The young Stark would've told anyone she was full beyond belief before dessert was brought out. She suddenly found plenty of room in her stomach. Lemon cakes, sweet biscuits, cream cakes, tarts of all kinds.. blackberry, strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry. Sharlette always preferred blueberry above all else. For tonight though, the girl found herself content with something new.

Whatever it was she hadn't had it before; It was hard on the outside but soft on the inside. Drizzled in frosting and tasting like sweet vanilla cream. Shaped in small spheres, they were wrapped in foil and no larger than a silver stag. A small platter of these sweets were placed right in front of her and from that moment on no other delicacy sat at that table mattered.

While she indulged in the candies, she return to her favorite dinner time activity—observing her table mates. The last two people to be victim to this were the youngest Princes. Rhaenyra's boys. The older boy ate quietly, only talking to his brother when he did speak. Sharlette got bored of watching him within a minute or two, same with the youngest. Though she found humor in the way he chewed his food, little boys were always odd to Sharlette. Maybe she was odd and they were normal... no... it was most definitely the boys, she decided.

Most had left by this point, even the staff was sparse. The Queen was quick to make her leave, her brow staying firm and frustrated as she exited. Sharlette found herself in front of the fire place in the dining room. The room itself was quite large, tall ceilings and room for many guests. On one side of the room there were lounges and chairs for hosting. Along with the fireplace the Stark now sat beside.

Larence watched young Lady Stark from the other side of the room. Saskia was whisked away by the Princess, but beforehand, she had told the guardsman to remain there until she said so. Watch the girl. Even if that was why Larence was even in King's Landing, Saskia felt the need to remind him. Paranoia or distrust? He didn't know and he didn't care, his job was what mattered. It was quiet in the dining room now, he liked the quiet. The Queen took her daughter during her exit, now only the Velaryon and Targaryen princes remained in the room.

In Sharlette's lap laid the last piece of delicacy she had saved from supper. She planned to wait and savor it longer, but somehow ended up emptying her plate within a few minutes. Sighing, she darted her hand up and down, reluctantly pulling the sweet from its wrapper. Her eyes settled back on the fire. While she was mourning the loss of her dear candy, it was a short lived grief, as a voice caught her attention.

"Would you like mine?" The voice offered, in a soft but courteous tone. The girls' view moved from the dancing flames to the speaker behind her. Her eyes becoming wild at the realization that young Prince Aemond was talking to her. He awkwardly stood before the girl, his hands holding out three or so of the candies Sharlette had previously devoured.

She bowed her head, her pale fingers reaching over and clasping the sweets in her grasp. The Prince almost shuddered at the cold emitting from her skin. Her hand brushed against his palm; His own skin burned in a contrasting warmth.

"Thank you... your grace!" She stuttered, almost omitting the last part, and clearly panicked because of it. The boy in front of her stiffened a laugh, a modest and small smile on his face. Formalities as such would be a habit to invest in while she resided in The Red Keep. Sharlette's demeanor calmed at his reaction, seeing that he payed no mind to her delay in titles.

"It is—"

"Oh come on Aemond don't bore the girl, she's a guest not your hostage." The eldest prince's laugh cut in, strolling past the pair with a chalice in his hand. Sharlette took note that she hadn't yet seen him tonight without a cup in his palm. She didn't like the older boy, Aegon, finding his name an insult and amusement. She often found herself returning to the story of the conquest and knew it well. To share the name of the conqueror, be a son to a king, and to openly act indignant was to her—abhorrent.

One of the brunette princes laughed, the older one. The younger boy had taken leave with his mother a moment ago. Sharlette's face saddened at the joint laughter shared between them, finding it unkind. While Cregan could be tough at times, a true boy he was, he was not unpleasant. He never mocked his younger sibling. He made sure that anyone who did was no friend of his. Maybe her perception of how a brother or nephew should act was inaccurate... that possibility didn't help the pit that had grown in her stomach.

The brunette prince's laugh was unsavory to the young girl, and while she quickly remedied her sour expression, he had seen it. His own laughter quieting after taking notice of the Stark's disapproval. Before any further action could be taken—good or bad—Prince Aemond clamored away and left without another word. Larence watched this exchange closely. Had the boy not left he would have promptly retrieved the Lady Stark. He was not eager to have her in-between the childish quarrels of young princes. Thankfully not long after, Saskia reemerged and Larence was free to take Lady Stark back to her quarters for the night.

The property of Sharlette Alarra Stark. 126 ac.

It is my first night in The Red Keep and I find myself unable to sleep. I have tossed and turned for quite some time... but my mind will not allow me the pleasure of rest. I suspect it's excitement from it all that is still lingering. I am hoping that writing this down and putting other thoughts aside will help me find sleep... I am not fond of writing about myself, I prefer spoken word above anything on paper. Maybe this will help my aversion to it. I love the histories, I love reading about mostly anything. Writing isn't the same, my life is far less interesting than the aged stories and tales across Westeros. Maybe my time in The Red Keep will change that.

The first week Sharlette Stark spent in The Red Keep was uneventful and spent largely inside her quarters. Saskia visited once or twice a day to see to her schooling, but it was rare she found herself with Sharlette often. The Princess missed her companion and she herself neglected responsibilities to be with Saskia longer. Saskia didn't mind, or didn't make it known that she did. A natural smile was customary on her face whenever the Princess was near. A habit that never truly dissipated over the years.

Sharlette wasn't fond of being confined to her room, having already counted every line and crack on the walls by day three. While she left on occasion, the Stark spent the majority of her time reading, writing, and otherwise could be found longingly looking out her window. One of the times she was free from her room Sharlette encountered the Queen. After formalities had been shared, the woman only offered a statement that confused the girl. "Child, you are quite pale, are you feeling ill? Some sun might do you well." Surely with time Sharlette would find herself in the Queen's good graces.

Another time she was out of her room, she dined with Saskia and Rhaenyra—This was her favorite day in The Red Keep so far. Her mentor didn't exaggerate in her stories, Sharlette rapidly grew fond of the Targaryen Princess. In some respects, she imagined her mother was similar. The Princess grew a liking to the Stark as well, Sharlette reminded her a great deal of Saskia in her youth. It was an odd exchange. Saskia saw the Princess in her; and the Princess saw Saskia instead. Later on, she would prove to be quite different from the pair, but for now she echoed many of their traits.

While the Stark grew restless in her quarters... Her sworn sword however, liked this arrangement. It made his job quite easy. After a moon of being her protector and guard, he had learned how easily she could slip away. The girl wasn't even that small, being quite tall for a child of her age, but she was quick—and quiet. If she remained in her quarters, the most difficult task was at times enduring the girl's boredom and whining. The only true discomfort in this situation was with some of his peers. One of them being the master-at-arms, Ser Criston Cole.

Larence was not found of the man and it seemed to be reciprocal. The Northman was a watcher, similar to the Lady he pledged his life to—he observed people. Cole was no exception to this and Larence wasn't fond of what he saw. Arrogance was the first thing he could see, first thing anyone could. Then there was the preference he showed to the Queen's children.

Young boys could cause plenty of trouble, Larence knew this, but he did not understand what The Velaryon boys had done to scorn their master-at-arms. Larence was strict in his beliefs and seeing Cole neglect a portion of his duties to those boys had tarnished the chances of shared respect. Cole himself could feel the judgement being passed in Larence's glance, and it bothered him, but he nonetheless chose brush it off. Another thing we would later on see change.

Sharlette Stark's time in The Red Keep would prove to be greatly altering for the future to come. Precedents would be set and started that wouldn't take shape for years. When they did, however, it would be part of history forevermore. But they had only just been set and started, much would come before they were brought to fruition.

C'S NOTES 📌
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There is so much Saskia lore ohmygod it's insane ... I might write a whole book about her time in the red keep one day. I also might write a separate book that spans all of Sharlette's (multiple) diaries. Anyways! Chapter 2 YAYYY!!! I'm so glad it's finished!! (It's briefly edited so there's still stuff to tweak and fix !!) fun fact I actually wrote some of this in my weekly writing class LOL
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Sorry for the wait, I was out of my house + my sister was in the ER. She's all good now though! Uhm I also didn't expect this to be so damn LONGGG... I apologize 💔💔 ..Also if the high valyrian is wrong.. ignore it 😍
Please leave any thoughts, opinions, etc in the comments! I love talking to you guys + hearing anything!!! 💗💗