#||threads -- lucrezia 02||

[illyaoakheart]

|| illya & lucrezia ||

when: during the tme skip, the morning after Illya and Cedric’s bethothal was solidified. before Lucrezia departs for The Arbor.

where: highgarden, the reach.

@lucreziasredwyne​​

The day that stretched after her meeting with Cedric and her father had left a heavy burden on Illya’s heart. Life had completely changed with nothing more than a conversation. One moment, she’d simply been Illya Oakhear —  lady of a wealthy house who did her duty, who respected her parents as she was meant to. Now, and though Joseph Oakheart had been forced into submission and his plotting put to an end, she was the daughter of a traitor. She would soon be Queen of The Reach.

And Lucrezia had told her none of it.

It was a strange feeling, learning that someone so close had kept something from her — that there had been long conversations shared between the Small Council about the volume of her father’s wrongs. That Lucrezia had sat there, listened, even more than likely spoken on it. The letters, his work, how he had schemed against Cedric and his crown. Had she sought to punish him, perhaps? Had she and the other lords called for his death?

Whatever the words spoken in the privacy of that room was lost on her — but she knew that words had been said, and that neither Lucrezia — nor Cedric — had thought it best to tell her. It made Illya feel… alone. On the outside, like she did with her mother and brother and father. Like a barrier had gone up, and she was screaming on the other side of it despite that no sounds came from her lips. Yet, Lucrezia was the person she craved to see more than anything in that moment, when night yawned into morning and the sense of the world seemed to be slipping.

She had not slept, and had not touched her breakfast — her hair was lose around her shoulders. Illya paced back and forth in her apartments, waiting for her sister to arrive. A temporary place to sleep. She’d be moved, soon, after they spoke their vows before Gods and men. The door finally opened — and she’d found herself twisting a lock of her hair between her fingers, staring out of the grand window as morning light began to seep in. The beginnings of dark circles under eyes that looked twinged with red. She’d been crying — when she was finally alone. Not because she was sad, but because…

“Lucrezia. As salamu alaykum.” Because she felt betrayed — kept in a pretty little box with a tied ribbon. The sister she’d chosen had left her in the dark, and so she did not look upon her as the door opened and closed behind. Not yet.

“A traitor, with letters to prove it.” She said, her voice far away yet eerily present. “Between Tarly, Hightower, and Oakheart.” Illya said her own house with more venom than she ever had before. Daughter of a traitor. Queen to be. The Rose of Old Oak turned to her friend — her sister — and felt tears well in her eyes as she finally looked upon her. It had only been a matter of weeks since their last meeting within the walls of her own home. Lucrezia had known then, too. She’d known. And she hadn’t said a word.

“Florence, Alaric, all of it.” Illya twisted her hair between her fingers, looping it over and over. Her other hand? She clenched it so tightly into a fist that if one looked close enough, her nails had left impressions of crescent moons upon her palms. “You knew. You knew, and you said nothing.” Illya had to close her eyes as a tear finally spilled past her lashes. Blinking hard, she looked upon Lucrezia, face twisting with a sort of pain she never thought she’d feel. My sister, who kept me blind. “You said nothing, Lucrezia.” Her voice cracked -- Illya had to pause to compose herself, but despite the anger she felt, she knew she could not hide herself from the other woman. “Why?” Had she known Cedric would ask for her hand? Was it but another secret to add to a list she wished did not exist? Then, in their shared tongue, she whispered. “When did I lose your confidence?”