#onatah branch

[witchthewriter]

𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑆𝑖𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛

Personalised story for @leniabranch. Pairing: Otto Hightower x Lenia Branch Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: none, just fluff

It was tradition amongst your mother’s family, House Manfri, to have a women-only gathering a day before the wedding. Memories of the bride’s life would be shared; gifts would be exchanged, and laughter would never cease.

The morning was perfect as you awoke. Warm sunlight heating your skin to wake; you hadn’t been alone for many nights. Sanah, Elrie, even at times your mother, would accompany you to and from places. Part of it was customary, but mostly it was so the groom couldn’t have a moment alone with you.

 “Morning Bride,” Sanah’s voice was always croaky in the mornings. If one could describe the perfect night owl, she would be it.

You let out a small chuckle, “morning sister,” you rolled over to face her. Neither of you caring about morning breath, you moved the mess that was Sanah’s hair out of her face.

   “What does it feel like?” She said sleepily, her eyes still half closed.

“What? To be a bride? You already know –“

     “No, Lenia, to be the future wife of a man with such standing.” She moved her hand to rub her blue-green eyes, yawning in the process.

Not being able to stop your own, you yawned as well. Underneath the sheets, your feet were tangled together, a small physical connection. Someone born without a sister would never know the closeness that came with that bond. Physically, emotionally, mentally – sisterhood was a connection that not many could articulate.

  “Hmm… I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’ve never seen him as someone with influence. Only as Otto Hightower, a man with ambition and … a love for his country.”

“Oh, very diplomatic. You’ll be a great politicians wife.”

The two of you giggled then, still feeling like children. Your wedding day was tomorrow and whenever you thought about it, nerves rattled your stomach and sweat formed on your hands.

 “It’ll be okay though, right?” You whispered this, feeling so vulnerable.

Sanah gave you an empathetic sigh, and slowly smiled. “Of course, it will be.”

                                                          -✶-

The castle hadn’t seen so many unconventional people in … well, ever. Only those with high standing or something valuable to the Kingdoms were invited to court. Your mother’s House had shocked even the cityfolk as they made their way into the Red Keep.

 As soon as House Manfri was spotted, the gates to the Red Keep were opened and there stood the King with Otto Hightower. The leader, who was your mother’s oldest sibling, bowed to Viserys and his Hand.

  “It is a privilege and an honour, to be here, my King. We thank you.”

Viserys was doing all he could not to balk at the colourful aspect of House Manfri; even the horses were adorned in some type of dresswear. And these decorated horses were pulling carts that look like miniature homes.

  “I am glad you’re here!” The King replied, his voice bellowing over the silence. “The pleasure is mine,” he finished and held out a hand for Vai to clasp it.

 Your uncle did, and from the Manfri’s came shouts and yells of joy.

                                                         -✶-

 You ran to them as soon as you saw them; even though they all had the same dark curly hair, you knew exactly who was who.  

Even though you spent a lot of time with your father’s side of the family, it was your mother’s side that truly helped raise you. Especially in your youth.

  “Bibi Leonora!” You cried, running, and wrapping your arms around your mother’s younger sister.

“Ah! Nini!” Her nickname for you went back to the day you could talk. You wanted so much to be like your Aunt, she always wore long skirts, with a veil loosely wrapped around her waist. Rings on her fingers; her toes as well, she was in love with jewellery. Even wearing anklets, and many bracelets on her wrists. One could hear her before they saw her.

 “My beautiful niece, how much you have grown!” she said in her native tongue.

  “Well, it has been many, many years,” you replied, looking into her dark brown eyes.

They were a peculiar shade of brown, with green rings around her pupil. Some could call them hazel, but outlining colour was one of the deepest shades of brown you had ever seen in someone’s eyes. Near black in certain lights.

You felt a presence come up behind you and your mother shouted her sister’s name.

Their hug nearly brought tears to your eyes as Elrie hung on nervously to her mother’s hand. Luci was clutching to your mother’s skirts, peeking every now and again at all the people in front of him.

 You crouched down and opened your arms, gladly, he clutched onto you. Picking him up, and shifting him to one hip, you looked around the hall where nearly a hundred of your relatives resided.

  Overhearing your mother’s conversation, you heard her explain why Sanah wasn’t here to greet the other family members.

   “Finishing touches on the dress, she wants it perfect for Lenia.”

“She’s a good girl, both of them are.” Your Aunt remarked, her mass of curls bounding down her back.

 Suddenly, there was a tug on your own skirt, and you peered down to see a child that looked like the epitome of your Aunt, except in child form.

 “Oh! This is Analetta, my youngest. But she goes by Letti,” your Aunt’s curved form held out her hand and the little girl took it. However, it wasn’t in shyness.

 “Hey, that sounds like my name,” whispered Luci in your ear. He was still clutching desperately to you.

“You’re right!” You murmured, “Letti and Luci-“

    “Luci, why don’t you introduce yourself to your cousin?” Your mother said, taking him out of your arms. You let her but crouched down to his height.

His cheeks went red, and he shook his head.

  “Ha, stubborn, just like his mother,” Leonora said. Then she ushered Letti forward and told her to teach him one of the Manfri games. Luci’s eyes lit up at the word ‘games.’ In an instant he was chasing after her, toward a group of young ones in the corner of the hall.

Helping your mother to her feet, Onatah shook her head and smiled. “I won’t lie, sometimes I think there are too many etiquettes at court. Look at how easy it is with our ways.”

  “Mother!” You said, utterly and completely shocked. You hadn’t seen this side of her since the last time she was with her family.

 Your Aunt laughed and nodded her head in agreement. As she did so, her curls bounced around her, like they had minds of their own.

Moving so that she was in between the two of you, your aunt looped her arms between your mother’s and your own and led you off to the rest of your female family.

    “Oh, I cannot wait for you to see Vano, Lenia. He’s thinking of becoming a maester…”

                                                           -✶-

It was midday by the time Sanah entered the hall with the servants behind her. Their arms full of an assortment of different foods and drinks. Pomegranates, berries, freshly baked bread, suckling pig, honey cakes, salted pork, candied almonds, mulled wine, pomegranate juice, and a specific wine made only by the Manfri’s. However, in your chalice was added herbs for fortune, protection, and fertility.

You were all sitting on the floor, cushions underneath you, blankets askew across the floor and around shoulders. The food was set on an array of small side tables that had been pushed together; there was no formality, no pressure to say or do the right thing.

 You were mid conversation with another ‘Bibi,’ who you had never met (but was a relative nonetheless) when Sanah stealthily slid down next to you and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

  “Sanah, this is Bibi Malina, she’s –“ but you were interrupted mid-sentence by a booming voice announcing Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. Oddly enough, they entered together, albeit distantly.

 Everyone stood as they entered, with Alicent sitting between Sanah and yourself, and Rhaenyra on your other side. Sister between stepmother and stepdaughter. Or rather…your stepdaughter sitting beside you.

Even though you had invited them, you didn’t think either would attend. It was a shock, to many (even to the young women themselves) but there was no time for awkward silences as your Aunt started speaking as soon as the royals sat down.

   “Lenia…our Lenia,” your Bibi looked at you with so much love, even after all these years. “Your wedding tomorrow is blessed, not just by family, but by the Gods and Goddesses.” Every woman raised their cup, Onatah and Sanah making sure the Queen and Princess knew what to do.

Your Aunt continued, “we call upon the blessings of our Goddess Despoina, her story now becoming yours, as is tradition. You looked at Onatah and she had tears in her eyes. You knew how much it meant to her; this tradition, which went back centuries. On and on it had passed, from one woman to the next. A gathering of those who had been overlooked and underappreciated.

That was one thing Onatah missed about her family. The fact that it was led by a matriarch. It wasn’t the firstborn son who the titles passed to, but the firstborn child. And it was by luck that Vai had inherited the leadership of House Manfri.

 After the speech came the gifts. Each woman seemed to flock you, their seats in the circle long forgotten about.

Stacked around you were clothes, scarves, jewellery, tonics, powder, tinctures and remedies. Everything a woman – everything a newly wedded woman, might need. And that included a knife given to you by your great aunt. Your long-passed grandmother’s sister. She could not speak, but wrapped the knife within a scarf, letting Bibi Leonora do the explaining.

  You took it as not to cause a fuss, especially when the Queen was sitting close by. Your mother had gone red in the face when you told her.

  “Keep it underneath the bed, or your pillow – somewhere easy to grab,” your aunt had said. Shaking your head in disbelief, you swallowed deeply as you recognised your family for who they truly were. Warriors, female warriors – even if they had not fought in any wars.

                                                           -✶-

Sanah nearly choked when you showed her the dagger, the wine she had been drinking nearly hitting you in the face.

  “I thought you were joking-“ she said, sitting the cup down and walking over to examine the fine weapon.

  “It’s actually quite beautiful…”

“Then you keep it under your pillow!” You whisper-shouted, exasperated.

The pair of you had retreated to your chambers when the skies had darkened. You loved your family but spending hours with them…it would cause anyone to erupt.

 Luckily enough, it was also tradition for the bride to leave the gathering early, to prepare for the day ahead.

As you took your leave, as did Alicent and Rhaenyra. And you swore when you looked out the window, you could see a shadow moving in the sky.

 When you turned back around, Sanah was across the room, talking to someone at the door.

“Thank you, yes, this is perfect,” she said and closed the oak door shut. When the lock clicked, she turned to you with a wicked grin.

“What did you do?” It was a question you had said a lot during your childhood…and teenage years…and now young adulthood too.

  “I couldn’t give you my present in front of the family…” She sauntered over to where you stood and motioned for you to sit. In her hands was a giant box, and when you opened it your eyes grew wide.

 “Sanah!” You said laughing, picking up the shift that looked tiny in your hands. “And what exactly is this meant to fit?”

“It’s not meant to fit much!” And she threw her head back in laughter.

The turned it this way and that, seeing the light purple underclothe near transparent in the candlelight.

                                                         -✶-

You had woken up alone the next morning – just as you had asked. You wanted your last night as an unmarried woman to be by yourself.

 It was an effort to get out of bed, to face the day ahead. Your body was a whirlwind of excitement, nerves, and ‘what ifs.’But you had to check the weather. Flinging back the blankets, you scrambled across the floor to open the window.  

Whatever prayer you had said last night, worked because the sky was clear and bright. You wanted today to be perfect, you truly did. Even if that was a far-fetched desire. Because a cloudless sky was more than important for today.

 Your stomach was churning as you heard the doors open and close.

“Oh! You’re awake-“ Your mother was the first one to enter your chamber, followed by Elrie, who was just as eager for today as you.

“Truthfully, I’ve barely slept,” you replied, walking over to let her kiss your cheeks.

When you were done, Elrie turned to you and curtsied, causing you to raise your eyebrows. Your eyes flicked to your mother and she explained:

 “She overhead yesterday ‘how important you were now, marrying the Hand of the King’ and wants to show you her loyalty-“

 “-and gratitude for all your future husband does for the realm,” Elrie finished off. For a girl of one and ten, she could be a tad too easily influenced.

  “Elrie, I’m your sister, you don’t need to do that.”

“Yes I do!” Her hands balled at her sides and she stamped her foot.

   “Okay, okay. How about you only do it in public?” You said, trying to soothe the oncoming storm.

Onatah was too used to this to intercede.

 You could see the thoughts flicking through Elrie’s head. “Fine,” she said in conclusion. And that was that.

You were waiting for Sanah to come into the room but moments passed and still, she did not arrive. Sitting in your vanity’s chair, your mother brushed your long dark hair and soon footsteps could be heard in the hallway.

  “Good morning, bride,” it was not Sanah, but it was someone’s sister. Bibi Leonora strolled through your chambers, holding many, many pots and brushes on a tray.

“Bibi did my make up and hair on my wedding day too,” said your mother and she squeezed your shoulders in excitement. A moment shared. A memory to be looked back on. But it wasn’t that you did not trust your Aunt to do a good job, no…it was that you didn’t trust her to make you look like a Westerosi bride.

   “Where’s Sanah?” You called to your mother in a light tone, trying to hide the fear you felt.

“Coming!” A familiar voice called, and you nearly slumped with relief.

 Holding your dress up in her arms, with Darick and your cousin, Vano, keeping it off the floor.

The white, near blue dress was light and flowing, with a tight corset that showed some bust. Your sleeves were loose, as they draped beneath your shoulders flowing down your sides. In some light it looked as if Sanah had worked some type of magic as the white-pale blue turned white-pale lavender as you moved.

The skirt was just as light and free as the sleeves, and it had a long train in the back with small beadwork that travelled from the back of the skirt into the train, cascading down into the earthy colours of House Branch and House Hightower.

 Everyone in the room nearly gasped at its beauty. Elrie looked at the lone dress and nearly started crying for her own, when servants came rushing in, holding a dress for your sister’s and mother.

  Soon the attention turned to Vano, who you hadn’t seen since your childhood. With open arms, you two embraced, gushing over how much the other had changed.

 “Now isn’t the time!” Your Aunt ordered and ushered the men out of the room. And when she picked up a brush, your eyes flung to Sanah in a silent plea.

 “I’ll start on her hair,” she said taking the brush from your mother’s hands.

“Ah, and I’ll do the finishing touches on that too.”

There was no stopping Bibi Leonora.

                                                            -✶-

  “She did do a fantastic job though,” Sanah said as you walked with her and your mother down the hallway.

Your father was waiting for you at the doors, Sanah behind you, fixing your dress and veil before slipping through the large doors to signal you were ready. Elrie and Luci were with Darick, waiting for your entrance.

  “You look beautiful,” your father said and kissed your forehead. You could see the tinges of red in his eyes, definitely still hungover from the night before. House Branch and House Manfri must have reunited at last.

   The band started playing and your stomach started churning once more.  

“You can do this, my love,” your mother kissed your cheek, and you realised you were about to cry. But she took your other hand and kissed the back of it. “We’ve got you. No matter what.”

 As on queue, the doors opened, and the sun appeared - nearly blinding you. Silently wishing for some clouds, you walked down the stone steps with your parents’ arms linked in yours.

There were rows upon rows of wooden seats, each with a standing guest. You realised that the courtyard had never been so populated, and probably would never be so again. Because who else would want to get married underneath an apple tree?

 Your hair billowed in the slight breeze, your veil along with it. The white and pink roses, baby’s breath and ranunculus’ were clutched tightly in your hands, as if they would keep you steady.

At the end of the altar, Otto nearly sobbed at the sight of you.

 Standing in his most formal attire, a white rose pinned to his cloak, he watched as you walked toward him. Regal, the word flashed in his mind. His eyes found your own and you blushed deeply, your eyes lined with the same black kohl as your family.

You willed yourself to look back, not to shy away from his gaze, to not look anywhere else but him.

  And then suddenly the priest asked if your parents give you to Otto and they said yes.

The ceremony seemed to go by in a flash. Someone had collected your flowers from your hands, and Otto’s cloak was around your shoulders and you both swore your love to one another for eternity.

       And you were married.

                                                         -✶-

It wasn’t exactly tradition, but you wanted to put a piece of yourself into your one and only wedding. Not caring what the other courtiers may think, Sanah helped you into your second outfit. A green dress in the colour of House Hightower, bare feet (aside from the traditional Manfri anklets) and matching bracelets.

 The guests were sitting expectantly, excitedly, as the music stopped. Like doors to the throne room opened, and there you stood, with your arms across in the air, hands at a graceful halt.

 As the strings were plucked and drums banged, it all came together. You waited for the flute to start before you moved.

One.

   Two.

      Three.

You twirled into the room, letting your long hair fling around you as you did so. The guests sighed in awe as they watched a fair maiden transform into a married woman.

You moved to pluck a rose from one of the table centrepieces, gracefully extending your leg as you did so, then turning to graze the face of your Uncle who was sitting at the that table. The crowd gasped and laughed at your mischievous action.

From the bridal party’s table atop the dais, Otto stared at you with love-filled eyes. (Well…lust-filled as well.) He couldn’t look anywhere else, his body was almost compelled.

The violin’s turned harsh as you made your way closer to your husband. As if the players were other men vying for your attention, and you had to fight against them to find your true love.

  You flung yourself toward Otto, but caught yourself mid air and whirled to the side. Elegantly holding the rose in one hand and holding the back of your hand against your forehead in pretend distress.

The crowd reacted exactly as they were supposed to, feigning the emotions along with the performance.

And just as the song built and built, you looked this way and that, trying to find your love. You knew your facial expressions were over-the-top, but that was a part of performing. That was a part of it that you loved; becoming something else, morphing into a character and playing pretend…even for just a little while.

 The climax of the song was building, and you whirled past family members, members of House Hightower, and tapped their shoulders or grazed their faces (the HighTower’s’ were very unsure of how to react to that one. Compared to your Uncle Vai, who loved it).

And then suddenly, like your eyes were opened for the first time, you spotted him! Your love! The music halted as you saw him from across the room. And then the music picked up at once, as you leaped and bounded toward your love. The rose was still in your hand, now in your mouth, as you twirled and twirled and twirled in the middle of the open space. Your anklets and bracelets tinkling as you did so.

 You halted, and taking the rose from your mouth, gently walking up the steps and held out the rose to Otto. The music stopped once again, almost as if this silence was one of deliberation.

Shocking everyone, he played along. Furrowing his eyebrows and cocking his head to the side, you moved your hands to your heart and bowed your head.

 Completely unscripted, he got up from his chair, lifted your head and kissed you.

[witchthewriter]

𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑒𝑛.

Personalised story for @leniabranch Pairing: Otto Hightower x Lenia Branch Word Count: 2k Warning: Fluff, pure and insufferable fluff! Authors Note: If anyone wants a personalised story, here’s my PayPal and send me a message and we can get started!

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔

Walking On Water by George Fenton

Valerie by the Midnite Quartet

      “That’s not the way I heard it,” Sanah closed her mouth over the goblet and sipped. The mulled wine was sub-par, but she drank it anyway. Hells knew she needed the liquid courage. Her eyelids had been brushed with the slightest of colour, and red rouge on her high cheekbones. She looked stunning. Sanah stared out the window and sighed. The day turned spectacularly. For the harsh wind and pelting rain, had turned contentedly warm. But your younger sister barely noticed. Sanah was much too nervous. Her leg hadn’t stopped bouncing, even when you pointed it out, multiple times.  

 “And how exactly did you hear it?” You mused as the servant manoeuvred so she could stand behind Sanah. You too were holding a goblet of the same wine. It was a full-bodied red that had notes of black fruit and pepper spice.

You watched with flushed cheeks, as this had been your second cup and you were nearly finished, as the servant placed the pins in your sister’s hair. House Branch had many traditions, and one of them was twenty priceless pearls, each embedded onto a pin. They had been handed down to each woman, on her wedding day.

   Sitting at the vanity table, Sanah’s reflection stared at you through the mirror, and she gave you a wink.

   “I cannot give up my sources of information,” she said with red lips.

You playfully rolled your eyes in response.

   A creak sounded from the other side of the room. The doors opened and two sets of feet were scampering towards you.

   “No running!” Your mother called over her shoulder while closing the doors. You looked up and saw her in the most beautiful gown. Well, second to Sanah’s – Onatah looked radiant. Her gown swept the floor with graceful ease, and yet her face gave her true feelings away. Although nearly in her fifties, your mother looked as if she was part star. Her long brown hair had been braided over her shoulder, and the sleeves of the gown lingered just above the floor. You could see the golden thread of leaf detailing that Sanah had spent hours getting right. It was tedious, and with the wedding planning, she had been nearly intolerable.

   “Sah-sah, Leni! Look!” your youngest sibling and second brother ran towards the two of you. His brown hair a curly mess, and his shirt was missing a button, the little Branch held something in his tiny hands.

   “What have you got there, Lu?” Opening his hands, he showed the little creature with a proud smile.

“A mouse! He has a mouse!” Elrie started screaming. She was nearing the age of ten and had become accustomed to dramatics. Your mother sighed, lifted her skirts, and drifted over to Lucieth, who was still holding the brow mouse. Elrie, shoes on and all, had jumped on the bed, her howls never ceasing.

   Sanah only laughed as she sat, so much so that she had to put her cup down. Her belly laughs made Lucieth confused, his eyebrows knitting together.

  “Is only little?” he whispered, starting to pout. He had been forbidden to bring anything bigger than his hand size into the castle. Lucieth looked up at you with those big brown eyes and you melted. The youngest Branch was always finding animal friends. It was rare that his pockets were empty, or that he wasn’t being followed. On Lu’s third trip to the town markets, he befriended three stray cats and they followed him to the castle gates.

  “Oh, Elrie stop it,” your mother huffed, sweat gathering at her brow. Onatah thought she was used to children, seeing as though she raised three almost perfectly good adults. But there seemed to be a rift, or jealousy from Elrie towards Lucieth, that appeared the day he was born. In the three, nearly four years, Elrie hadn’t gotten used to being a middle child. You could often find her with her arms crossed over her chest and face scrunched. Usually, because Lucieth was picked up first or tended to before she. It must be tough, you often thought.

                                                           -✶-

     It had been years since the invasion of Dorne, and much had happened since then. Investigations and enquiries were made throughout King’s Landing. Many answers were found, and the most valuable of those had come to light. Grand Maester Runciter. The man who sat on King Viserys council had gotten too close with his student, Gelford Spyre. An ambitious young man who thought he could outwit the great Houses of Westeros. And he did. For three years he had been planning the infiltration of King’s Landing.

    If it wasn’t for Daemon and Rhaenyra, the city would have been lost.

                                                           -✶-

     In the corridor before the closed doors, you looked at your sister. The sunlight filtered through the open windows, creating slices of warmth. Sanah turned to you with her bright eyes and gave you a slight smile. You knew exactly what she was thinking. Who would have thought? You did. You knew she would be married one day, to a man who deserved her. Who would do anything for her. And you knew Ormund would.

 You could hear the band take up the bridal tune, and your mother fluttered about your sister, preening and smoothing.

   “Mama, please,” Sanah groaned, trying to bat away your mother’s insistent hands.

         Lucieth and Elrie were standing at the front doors, their hands clasping tight to the petal basket. Neither were nervous, as they knew only family were on the other side of the door. Both Sanah and Ormund didn’t want a grand affair, even though King Viserys was adamant that he would pay for everything, and anything they desired. Ormund was the hero of King’s Landing, the one who freed both the King and the guards.

   But in the fashion that was both your sister and her fiancé, they denied any glamour or attention. And yet, the Houses of Hightower and Branch filled the hall. As did King Viserys, Daemon, Rhaenyra and Alicent. Along with Aegon, who was now nearing his fourth year.

 Sanah’s, and your own bouquets were the same. Flowers of peony, baby’s breath, and light pink carnations were wrapped together in a munch with silver ribbon. The same ribbon had been braided into your own hair and carefully twisted so it hung down your back.

   Suddenly, Kormiel appeared with a large grin on his bearded face.

   “Daughter!” He bellowed, loudly too, as he didn’t care in the slightest if the guests heard. Kormiel was a proud father. The first of his children to be married. He looked upon his third-born child with so much joy that tears brimmed his eyes. There was a change in Sanah then, and only someone as close as a sister could see it. Her back was straighter and her hands had stopped fiddling.

   “Papa,” she replied, with a dimpled grin. Her blonde hair looked so golden, compared to Kormiel’s white hair. He had aged in the past years, but his personality hadn’t.  

  Darick stood behind his father, a carnation pinned to his jacket. He had been pulled to one knee as Lu showed him the brown mouse. No one had taken it off of the little Branch, as Sanah insisted the creature be a part of the wedding party.

   “Lu!” Your mother groaned, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Elrie let out a little giggle as Darick poked her in the stomach. She had grown to adore her older brother these past years.

   You laughed, unable to stop yourself. Your heart felt warm and full. This was a day you never wanted to forget, you wished you could take a part of this moment and carry it with you forever. Oh, how you loved your family, and the way your father’s shoulders bounced up and down when he laughed. How your mother shook her head with a slight smile, how Sanah gave you knowing looks, always able to read your mind. And Darick’s good heart, Elrie’s hopefulness and Lu’s love for creatures, big and small. How lucky am I, to have been born into this House, you thought. A contented smile growing on your lips.

                                                          -✶-

“Ready?”

     Sanah looped her arm between both her father’s and mother’s. Your sister was a woman who broke tradition, and now she did so without hesitation. You and Darick looked at each other, he stood in front of you, holding the rings. Behind you, you could hear your parent’s soft bickering. Looking behind, you shushed them, just as the doors opened.

   Like a wave, the guests stood to attention. The music sounded and the two youngest Branches took their cue. The petals littered the floor with white and cream, as the wedding party walked. The guests cooed and awed, as the children flung fistfuls of the petals into the air. They were without strategy, and got most of it on Darick, tried to step out of the firing line.

       You were used to people’s eyes upon you, but it never got easier. You were glad the dress was long, as you thought your knees were shaking. But your nerves seemed to get better and then a whole lot worse, as you spotted him in the crowd. The ghost of a smile was upon his lips, as he watched you intently. Gone were the days of meek, stolen glances. Otto Hightower looked at you with an unmet need.

    The guests tried to hide their shock as Sanah walked down the aisle with both her parents to give her away. Some had their thoughts written plainly on their faces; aghast. You did all you could not to roll your eyes. Both parents were important in their child’s life. Equal caregivers, so why should one do the honour of helping their child step into a new era of their life?

    You took your place opposite Ormund. He was standing there with his hands behind his back and the most un-Ormund-like expression on his face. The groom wore Hightower colours, with hints of black and pale green, as were the colours of House Branch. Ormund was doing his best to stay still, you could see that. But he couldn’t see anyone but Sanah.

   Ormund’s eldest brother, Hobert, stood next to Otto with pursed lips and flared nostrils. Well, you’re in it now Hobey, you thought, nearly giggling. God, that wine had gotten to you. Your attention turned to your sister as they reached the dais, where the Grand Maester stood. Neither Ormund nor your sister wanted a religious figure to wed them, as neither believed in religion. You couldn’t blame them.

  No one stood next to Ormund, and soon, neither did Sanah. You kissed your sister, took her flowers, and sat beside your mother and brother.

 You took in the details of the Great Hall. Viserys had paid for all the flowers, as hundreds of them had been twisted around the pillars. All windows were opened to let in the natural light, creating a warm haze. The musicians had stopped their playing as the Grand Maester began.

                                                             -✶-

    The ceremony was over, and the reception was in full swing. The Branch musicians, and your mother, began a hearty tune. People got up from their seats and began to dance. Most of the dancefloor occupants were Branches, as the Hightowers hadn’t drunk enough to let loose. Ormund was swinging Sanah about, laughing without caution.

 You felt someone stand next to you and you looked up. Otto stared at you with a humble grin, as he often did. Your relationship was complicated. The feelings were still there, and since delivering his grandson all those years ago, he had been upfront with how he felt.

  Now it felt like a dance. A game. Cat and mouse.

“You look beautiful,” he uttered, handing you a full goblet of wine.

   You took it and thanked him. You brought the cup to your lips and drank deeply. The contents not helping the growing heat at your core.

[witchthewriter]

𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒆  

𝐎𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐡

𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑎𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑂𝑓 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐸𝑎𝑟𝑡𝘩.

🌿INTP 📜Neutral Good 🔮Virgo Sun, Libra Moon, Pisces Rising  

  𝖬𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝖮𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼. 𝖫𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖡𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗁, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇.

  𝖠𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾. 𝖠𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝖽𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖶𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗌, 𝖮𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗑.

  𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗇.

  𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝖪𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗅, 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼. 𝖠 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍.

  𝖧𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖮𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖺𝗁.