────────────

────────────

ONE ; IGNITE

────────────

ㅤ       "PUSH, PUSH!" The urgent cries echo around the small house. A brunette woman clenches the sheets of her bed. Sweat pours from her face, causing her hair to cling to her temples. Her teeth are gritted with distress. Her eyes are sealed shut and her breathing is heavy, she lets a rumble escape from her throat as she clenched her stomach in and out again, attempting to push the baby out.

       The young woman with grey eyes rests at the foot of the bed with one hand on the knee of the pushing mother. She catches a glimpse of the baby's head and commands the woman to keep pushing. She reached out her hands and within a few more pushes, the baby is thrusted into her hands, coating her porcelain skin in a sheet of slimy liquid. Mireyah reaches into the pouch on her dress and uses a knife to cut the cord attached to the babe.

She wraps the newborn in a wool cloth and hands her off to the mother. "A girl. Healthy as can be." She offers with the smile. The new mother exhaled with a sigh of relief and strokes the baby girl's head. Mireyah watches from a distance, cleaning off her hands in a nearby water bucket.

She stays for only a few more minutes to patch the woman up and give her another dosage of medicine. She showers Meriyah in praise, claiming that was her easiest birth yet. She is blushed by the compliments stowed upon her and leaves with a few more coins to her name.

The village is quiet at this hour, aside from a few conversations lingering on the road. Most of the lights are off as the attendants sleep through yet another cold night. Meriyah wraps the fox-fur garment tighter around her arms as she makes her way down the winding path. She turns the corner and the castle comes into view. King's Landing can be so beautiful when it isn't violent. After a few more minutes of trekking, she arrives to her quiet house perched on a winding street corner.

       The house is dark, but that means nothing to someone with a power like Meriyah. She approaches the fireplace, and with a single swipe of her finger, lights the wood aflame. She prances around the small house, lighting candles here and there as she moves. Her dinner is cooked and eaten quickly with barely a few breaths to spare. The rest of the night is spent flipping through the pages of numerous books about medical sciences.

-ˋˏ ༻☆༺ ˎˊ-

THE DAY COMES DREADFULLY QUICKLY. When the first articles of lights cast through the foggy windows, Mireyah groans with annoyance. Another day of work, another day of making just enough money to get her by. She readies herself then makes her way to her practice, which is just a few streets down from her personal residence.

Varah, her apprentice, is already inside and mixing herbs together. The young girl offers a welcoming smile to Meriyah as she enters the building. The two get the small practice ready for the delights of the day. Within no time at all, both working tables are already reserved by a body. Varah is attending to a little boy with a bloodied face, and Meriyah a young man with two cracked ribs from getting into a street fight.

"You'd think someone of your age wouldn't be getting into street fights." She says with an arched brow. Meriyah places a hand under the man's head and holds a cup to his lips. He drinks it with only a spurt of discomfort at the taste.

The man grunts as she allows his head to fall back onto the table. "Maybe it's because I wanted to see you again." He says with a smirk. Meriyah places the cup onto the table by his bed and crosses her arms.

"Cracked ribs are not worth feeling the delicacies of a woman, Derhys," she deadpans. "That's what whore houses are for." He cocks an eyebrow in her direction and a low laugh echoes around the room. He grabs her arm from where he sits on the table and pulls her towards him. Mireyah can't help but stare into the deep green eyes behind his feathered brown eyelashes.

He sucks in a breath as her hand falls to his chest, which trails down to his ribs. Her touch is delicate and sincere. "Drink the medicine I gave you once every evening before bed for the next week. It's going to make you drowsy, but that means it's working," she says. "If I see you back here before the end of the month, I won't tend to you." Her voice is serious but Derhys narrows his eyes.

"I'll do my very best, Mireyah." He pulls his shirt back on slowly, then his dark coat over that. He drops a few coins into her hand before leaving. She pockets them then turns around to see Varah standing there with a rather wide grin on her face.

"Oh hush it, Varah. He's just a friend." Mireyah bites back a smile. The young girl nods with an uncertain gleam in her eyes.

The two women work for the next few hours taking care of anyone who enters the practice. From young kids to the elderly. They've earned a sort of reputation around the village for being efficient and friendly, and not to mention, cheap. Compared to the other surrounding practices, they cost almost nothing.

Because Mireyah knew she would be running it as a woman, there needed to be something that would get people to come. That thing was money. People tend to look past that a woman is caring for them if they don't have to spend a shiny coin on the care. It's unfortunate, sure, but the two of them, Mireyah and Varah, bring in enough money to keep themselves alive.

The day comes to an end. Another short day, due to the winter season. Varah attempts to help Mireyah clean up as she does every day, but the older woman shakes her head at the help. "Go home to your girls, I've got it." She says with a nod. Varah, only seventeen, is a wife and the mother of two young girls, one two and one seven months.

Although the two are nearly the same age, Mireyah feels like she has achieved nothing compared to her worker. She hasn't been married, she hasn't even been offered a hand, nor has she harbored any children— not that she would want to. A part of her aches for the life that she does not have. She knows she could settle down at any moment with a reasonable man, and start a family, but the thought of giving up her practice for that does not seem like a good enough cause.

She finishes crushing up some leaves and stories them into their respectable containers. As she's washing the dried blood off her hands, the door creaks open again. "I'm sorry, I've just cleaned up, you can go to the practice just a few-" she is cut off by an urgent woman's voice. "My son." Her words are gargled with tears.

Mireyah whips her head around to see a distraught woman holding the unmoving body of a young boy. The woman's hair is silver and her skin pale, the same as the boy. Behind her stands two brooding men dressed in royal armor. Mireyah' eyes widen as she realizes who stands in her doorway. A Targaryen. A royal blood. But why is she here? Why has she traveled all the way from the castle for her help? Why not have a healer at the castle tend to the young boy?

She nods without a word and the woman rushes across the room. She places the boys body on the table. The two men stand outside. Mireyah only catches one more glimpse of them as the door closes behind the woman.

Mireyah holds her hand to the boys wrist. His skin is ice cold. Through his white tunic there is a pool of blood emerging through the cloth. He's been stabbed through the back. Mireyah rips the tunic off his body and turns him onto his stomach. The weapon had entered between his shoulders and stabbed all the way through to his chest. He was stabbed with a sword, that's for certain. The boy died on impact, brief moments after the sword tore his skin. His skin still soft as a baby told Mireyah just how young he was. Perhaps five, maybe six.

She shakes her head and looks at the woman who is holding his limp hand, sobbing into his fingers. A twinge of motherly sadness wraps Mireyah in a discomfort.

"It wasn't supposed to be him," she sobs. "I told them, if you kill any of my children, not my boy, women have nothing to live for. Only their children. My boy would have the world." Mireyah can only make out some of the words that she spits out between sobs. The woman's hands are shaky and her body slacks onto the table.

Suddenly, the woman leans over the table and grabs Mireyah's hands. She is taken aback but does not move. She looks into the eyes of a grieving mother. The whites of her eyes are red and bloodshot, her face is red and puffy. Tears stream down her cheeks and onto the body of her son.

"If he is gone, I should be too. I am nothing to this kingdom but a mother. I am nothing to my husband but a mother. If my heir is dead, I should be too." She chokes on her words, but this time Mireyah understands everything that she says. She is too shocked to say anything, her lips part briefly but no words exit her mouth.

The door opens and Mireyah's gaze rips away from the woman. Another head of silver hair enters the practice. This time it's a man. A black park covers one of his eyes. His walk is as unsettling as his presence. He stalks towards the table and places a hand on the woman's back. She turns and falls into his arms, burying her head into his shoulder. The man strokes her hair while keeping his eye on Mireyah. Her chest rises and falls quickly at the demeanor of his glare.

They stay like that for a few moments, until he whispers something into the woman's ear, his eyes still on Mireyah. After he speaks the woman nods and slinks away from him, then leaves the practice. When Mireyah's eyes bounce back to the man, he is still watching her, unsurprisingly.

"It's a pity you couldn't save him. There's been talk of this place working miracles." His voice echoes in her mind moments after he speaks. She sucks in a deep breath of air as he crosses his arms over his chest.

She blinks. "He was dead upon arrival. There was nothing I could do to save him." She states. His eye flickers away from her, finally, to the body of the boy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. He brings his gaze back to her and narrows his eye in her direction.

"You're a liability." he walks around the table in her direction at a slow pace. Mireyah stays still where she is, following him with only her gaze. He stands behind her. She can feel his breath on the back of her neck. Suddenly, a sharp prick juts into the skin of her neck. Her heartbeat picks up at an alarming rate.

He's going to kill me. She swallows as the blade rests on top of her skin. "You will tell someone about what happened here, and that someone will tell someone else, and so on," his voice, so close, raises the hairs on the back of her neck. "This information cannot get out until the palace allows it to." The blade etches deeper into her skin. She pushes back against his body to give her more room between her neck and the knife.

"And we can't have that happening now can we?" He asks. She can hear a smirk on his face. She moves her hand against her leg, attempting to reach into her dress pocket to grab something that could help her. He uses his free hand to grab her moving hand. "Tsk, tsk," He mumbles into her ear. "Trying to escape will only make this more difficult for you, darling." She grits her teeth and slides her hand against his forcibly.

Little does he know, her hands are where her powers are the strongest. He tightly grips her wrist. Her hand begins to heat up, rapidly. The man behind her can feel the sudden shift in temperature. Even around her wrist, her skin feels like it's beginning to boil. Not wanting to be burned, he snatched his hand away, as he does, Mireyah grabs his arm that had been pressing the knife to her neck. She pulls the arm away from her. Combined with the heat of her hand, his hand drops and she can finally get away.

       His immediate reaction is shock, with his eyes going wide and his mind racing. She's making a break for the door. She's trying to run. He throws himself after her, not sparing another moment. He reaches her at the door and grabs both of her arms into one hand, pinning her face and chest to the door. He prays that her heat cannot reach that far down her arms.

       "What are you? A witch? A demon?" He asks too quickly for her to give an answer. She looks at him with one eye, as the other side of her face is pressed into the door. He stares into her gaze. "You don't know, do you?" He asks, cocking his his head to the side. She sucks in a breath of air, which is enough of an answer. She doesn't know.

       He knows what someone with her abilities could mean in terms of fate of the kingdom. He is a quick and logical thinker, he has been from a young age. "If you help me, I will help you." He claims.

        Her lip lifts with disgust. "What could I possibly need from you?" She spits. He chuckles with a gruesome grin. "Money, answers, safety. Everyone wants something." It's true.

       She slams her body backwards into him and he staggers into the table. She holds her hands up to his neck but does not make contact. Even with his skin being inches away, he can feel the heat radiating from her fingers.

"I don't need anything from you." She hisses. "You can run, but I know where your practice is, I know where your home is. I'll burn them to the ground. Then you'll have nothing. Then you'll have no choice but to come with me. I'm giving you the choice. Be lucky you have one." He does not fumble his words despite the intensity of the situation.

He has a point there. He has power, he can use it. He could kill Valah, and her family for that matter. Targaryens are ruthless. Everybody knows that to be a fact.

He can sense her weighing her options. "Your apprentice will run your practice. Your home will not be touched. Once we formally announce that Jaehaerhys is dead, you will be allowed to leave. It will be no more than a few days." He explains to her. Her eyes narrow into his.

What choice does she really have? It is either leave willingly without her entire life being torched, or escape and have her life burned to ashes. "I will be released after the people know of the death?" She asks simply.

"I swear by the old gods and the new." She isn't a religious woman, but Meriyah knows the significance of someone of such blood making a promise like that. She nods and steps away from him, lowering her hands to her sides. He stands up, gathering his footing, and pulls his cloak over his head. He then turns and grabs Jaehaerhys, wrapping the boy beneath his cloak so therefore passerby's may not question him.

He turns to face Mireyah. "Walk in front of me. Take the side path to the gates. Once we arrive, I will get us in. Walk quickly." He states. Her head is spinning but she makes clear of his instructions. She opens the door and looks behind her, taking a glance at the dark room. She pulls the fox-fur wrap over her arms and begins walking at a quick-footed pace in the direction of the path.

The prince Aemond follows closely behind.

────────────