VALORA'S FINGERS ACHED AND GNAWED, BUT SHE CONTINUED WEAVING STITCH AFTER STITCH UNTIL THE HANDKERCHIEF WAS COVERED WITH ROSES AND HER FINGERS HAD GONE NUMB ENTIRELY. The delicate stitches of white roses blooming against the pale blue cloth made all the pain worth it. Roses had always been simple for her to embroider, but the feat of placing one over the other, the petals overlapping and the vines intertwining, proved to be a challenge. Like most challenges she faced, she emerged victorious.

Audrey Myatt leaned over. "It looks beautiful, my lady," the dark haired girl whispered.

Valora beamed. "It does, doesn't it?" she mused, lifting up the handkerchief so everyone in the room would be able to see. "All of you, see for yourself."

The room dissolved into loud chatter, much different from the hushed gossiping and giggling that held the room before, as her ladies-in-waiting fell over each other trying to give her their compliments and admiration. Teora Farman was the loudest to no surprise; the red-haired girl stood over six feet tall and her voice was always so booming, she was impossible to not hear. Her cousin, Adrielle Lannister, furiously nodded her head, and a quiet mumble of praises left her lips before she ducked her head down, a curtain of bright yellow hair covering her face once again. Leonella Hawthorne, a plump girl with soft hazel eyes and two years Valora's younger, laughed and clapped her hands. Joy Hill, her bastard cousin and her other handmaiden alongside Audrey, whispered how the roses looked so real and true. There were a half a dozen other noble ladies in the room who served her: a Westerling girl, another cousin of her's, and a few more, but none so important or interesting enough for her to remember their names.

Valora grinned, turning her gaze to the only one who hadn't spoken. "Lady Lynessa," she said, her smile hardening. "You haven't said anything. Do you find fault with my work?"

She could see the muscles under Lynessa's neck tense as the dark-haired girl lifted her head. "It is beautiful, my lady." she simply said, her brown eyes darting from the handkerchief to Valora's face. "I have never seen such skill."

Valora frowned; she had never liked Lynessa Prester much. Lady Prester had sent a letter to her Aunt Genna asking for a favor, as they were childhood companions, and Valora soon found Lynessa in her service a few moons after. Genna warned her that the older girl might be difficult, but she had shrugged away any warning, and Valora agreed to take Lynessa as a lady-in-waiting. She had often trusted Genna's judgement, but it hardly seemed to be any great sacrifice. That is, until she actually met Lynessa Prester.

Lynessa was two years Valora's elder, the same age as Ilaria, though twice as foul as her sister could ever be. She was rude and bitter, and a mocking smirk always adorned her face whenever Valora glanced her way. She giggled and rolled her eyes whenever Valora spoke, and looked at her with vague pity mixed with amusement, like she was some helpless pet in need of constant help. Valora was not stupid; she was better than every girl in the room with sums and running an entire household. She wasn't the idiot that Lynessa clearly thought her to be.

Truthfully, Valora would have liked nothing more than to send stupid Lynessa back to her stupid castle and wipe her hands clean of her. But she could not send her away; not without facing Genna's disappointment in her for being unable to handle the older girl, and not without openly admitting that Lynessa was successful in making her, a lion of the Rock, feel so tiny and small. That would truly make her a fool.

Valora glanced at the crumbled up cloth hidden in Lynessa's hands. "Let me see yours."

"I could not, my lady." Lynessa said, her lips curving into the mocking smirk that Valora despised. "It does not compare to the likes of yours; delicate and small like a maid's stitching when mending their men's clothes. You share a lot of similarities that way."

Valora reddened as Lynessa snickered, a few other giggles joining her. She liked the sound of laughter but she mistrusted Lynessa's chortles. She knew the other girl was mocking her, but the jape always seemed to go over head, making her seem more like a fool. She didn't understand what offense Lynessa was attempting; the maids' stitching when mending clothes was delicate and very impressive, as needed to be when serving in the halls of Casterly Rock.

Septa Ginvera, who sat in the corner of the room reading the Seven-Point Star as she often did, gave Lynessa a withering glare that actually made the girl's grin falter for a moment. Audrey gave her a pointed look. You share a lot of similarities that way, she mouthed, before turning her head to give Teora and Leonella, who were giggling with Lynessa, a haughty look.

Oh, Valora suddenly realized. Lynessa was calling her a maid.

For a moment, Valora debated piercing her needle through Lynessa's lips and sewing her pretty little lips shut. Cersei would certainly do that — Cersei who remembers and nurses every slight and insult. The few times Valora had spoken to her eldest sister made that clear. Ilaria, on the other hand, would roll her eyes and say something far more devastating before sending Lynessa to some far away castle to rot... but neither would give Valora the satisfaction she wished, nor would it humiliate Lynessa the way the older girl was trying to humiliate her.

Besides, she would look like a wicked witch or a bitter woman if she sewed Lynessa's lips shut or insulted her and sent her away. And those titles are reserved for her sisters.

"You are right, Lady Lynessa," she said instead, a much better idea coming to mind. "It is a shame that the same could not be said for you. Perhaps all you need is practice."

Lynessa's smirk faded into confusion. "My lady, I do not understand..."

Valora ignored her, turning her head to her septa, who was already looking at her with disappointment. "How many breeches do you suppose need to be mended in the servant's tower?"

Septa Ginvera gave her an unamused look. "Plenty," she said dryly. "I'm certain the women there have it handled."

Valora waved away her septa's words. "Nonsense! Lady Lynessa can mend all of the clothes herself. It will be practice for her, so her own embroidery can be as admirable as mine."

"Perhaps you'll meet someone of your like," Audrey whispered loudly, earning a round of nervous giggles. Valora was glad Audrey spoke, though it was bold of her to say such a thing. She was far lower in noblitly than Lynessa, and she was also one of her handmaidens, not lady-in-waiting. She typically would have scolded Audrey for overreaching, but since it was in her defense, she allowed it.

Valora could see the other girl's jaw clenched, but she did not deny a thing. It would make sense for Lynessa to say no, she was being sent to the servant's tower to do a maid's work, and that it was a humiliating notion. Valora hoped that she would say such things — then she would have an excuse to send Lynessa away from being disobedient and not the true reasoning of how she hates the other girl's laughter.

Lynessa gave her a strained smile as she stood up and bowed her head. "As you wish, my lady," she said, much to Valora's disappointment. She knew she should not be surprised, for Lynessa saying otherwise would be her admitting defeat. That was not in the girl's nature.

Valora stood up. "Audrey will take you. She'll watch over you, if you wish for any help. You two can leave now, and perhaps you will be done before the sun sets." she said sweetly. Lynessa clenched her jaw even tighter, and beside her, Audrey stifled a smile. Audrey might have been the only person who hated Lynessa more than her.

Aunt Genna will be proud, she thought giddily. When Lynessa first came into her service, Genna warned her that Lynessa would try to claim her territory; that she'd try to act as if she were the one in charge! "You mustn't let her do that," Genna had warned her. "Remind her that a lion does not cower."

I may have stumbled, but I did not cower. She glanced at all her ladies, all of whom were watching her with wide and curious eyes. Suddenly, she wanted all of them gone. "You all can leave. It is time for my prayers, and I must do so in private."

Her ladies filed out of the room, whispering quietly amongst themselves as they left. Only Adrielle lingered to fix her cowl so only wisps of her yellow hair could be seen, then spoke quietly to Septa Ginerva. Valora didn't bother listening to their conversation; no doubt it was about something dreadfully boring like the Seven-Point Star that Septa Ginvera was clutching. Valora knew how good it was for one to be a faithful servant of the gods, but she wondered if her cousin might be far too religious; Adrielle was annoyingly pious, spending hours on her knees in the sept when she wasn't serving Valora. It was truly a surprise that she hadn't run off to Oldtown to become a septa yet.

When Adrielle finally left, Valora collapsed on the cool ground, sprawling her legs and arms out. Septa Ginvera glanced at her and tutted. "That is rather dramatic." Septa Ginvera had told her that she acts dramatic many times, though Valora could never understand why. She is the exact opposite of dramatic.

After that horrible Septa Ellis had withered up and died when Valora was nine years of age, it was Septa Ginvera who had been her septa. She liked Septa Ginvera far better than Ellis; for one, she didn't snap a ruler on her bare skin whenever she made mistakes on her readings — which Valora often did as a child and was forced to endure some ugly bruising on her forearms. Septa Ginvera was far kinder — though at times a bit too judgmental — and was devoted to the Seven. She didn't belittle her until she wept and ran to her old wetnurse for comfort.

"I'm tired," Valora groaned, "and my fingers ache and I wish to lay down. But alas, there is no bed, so the floor must give me comfort."

"The only comfort the floor will give you is a crooked back," Septa Ginvera pointed out. Valora sat up straight. "And that is not what I am speaking of, Lora. What did poor Lady Lynessa do to deserve to receive your spite?"

"Valora," she corrected. Lora is a child's name and she is a child no longer; she has nearly reached her fifteenth nameday, which would make her a woman grown. Her nameday was coming closer and closer, and so was the tourney and feast that would be held in her honor. That made her even more giddy than actually growing older.

Valora glanced at her septa. "Lynessa is more deserving of my spite and rage and whatever horrible things I feel. She was mocking me."

"And you should rise above it," her septa told her. "You are made in the image of the Maiden and you should hold yourself to her standard."

Septa Ginvera gave her one of her looks; her eyes narrowed and her dark eyebrows raised. She was a handsome woman, with blue eyes that looked like the lightning that strikes during a thunderstorm, and thick, black hair that she hid underneath her headdress. She had a strong jaw and high cheekbones — features that reminded Valora of the stag lords. She had once thought Ginvera to be a relation to the Baratheons, perhaps a cousin or a bastard daughter of the old storm lord. She was a few years older than the king and too old to be his bastard, even though Damon had told her that the king had plenty of his bastardseed running amok.

When she asked about it as a little girl, her septa doubled over in her laughter. "Do you think the Baratheons are the only men with dark hair and blue eyes?" she had asked through her laughter. Valora pouted and frowned, coming to the horrible realization of how stupid her question was, until Septa Ginvera began tickling her sides and made her laugh, too.

"Her standards are not nearly as satisfying," Valora grumbled. "If I say I will be more sweet to Lynessa will you stop looking at me like that?"

Septa Ginvera shook her head but she was chuckling. Valora grinned. "Start your prayers, child."

Valora wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. She had already prayed in the morning when she had first awoken. She prayed for good health and good fortune to her and her family, and she prayed to remain as the mistress of Casterly Rock as long as she could. Those were the prayers she said everyday in the morn; she didn't have much else to say to the gods. "I don't feel like praying."

"You sent everyone out because you said you wanted to pray."

Valora shrugged. "I wished to talk to you without worry of being overheard."

That was partly true; she did wish to speak to Septa Ginvera in private. Valora had always enjoyed speaking to the older woman, but her mood to deal with any company was drained after Lynessa's insult. Another horrible trait of Lynessa — she often put Valora in a bad mood.

Septa Ginvera laughed. "And what do you wish to speak of?"

"I don't know." Valora scrunched her nose, trying to think of something. "Aunt Genna has told me that Joffrey will marry Sansa Stark."

Septa Ginvera didn't look surprised. "I've heard. That is an unexpected arrangement."

Valora was shocked when she first heard about the betrothal. She did not think that Cersei would encourage a northern match for Joffrey and she thought the king simply didn't care enough to create any betrothals for his children. She pitied Sansa Stark. Valora rarely saw her princely nephew, but even she knew how much of an arse he was. "I'm surprised that is still happening after Cersei ordered Sansa Stark's pet wolf to be killed at the Trident."

Damon had sent her a letter of all that had happened at the Trident and the blood that was spilt because of it. Damon had always sent her the news and gossip of the court, as she once begged him all those years ago when he was first sent away to the Red Keep to be King Robert's cupbearer. She had always loved hearing about the drama that unfolded in the Red Keep — Casterly Rock did not have enough, unless it was the servants' gossip and wives tales that they spread. As entertaining as that was, listening to gossip about servants' lives was below her.

Damon's letters were always a little lacking, however, as he seemed more interested in whatever sparring technique he had learned that week than anything she was truly interested in. Ilaria would probably have a better understanding of the ongoings of the court, but her sister had not sent her a single letter since she first left for the Red Keep, and Valora had stopped years ago trying to send her own letters in hopes of gaining a response.

"A wolf?" Septa Ginvera exclaimed. As a pet? What child has a wolf for a pet?"

"Who cares about some stupid wolf?" Valora grumbled, though the thought of having a wolf for a pet interested her. I should have a lion for a pet then, she mused, if the Starks each have a wolf. There used to be wolves in the Westerlands but they all went extinct due to how often they were hunted down. Her father had found some hidden lions a few decades ago and caged them in the dungeons, but they were skinny and fragile and had withered away when Valora was only eight.

Septa Ginvera scoffed. "A wolf!"

We are past the wolf, Septa," Valora whined, more eager to speak of the future queen than her wild pets. "Sansa Stark will be our future queen and she's a northerner. They don't even pray to the Seven!"

She half expected Septa Ginvera to gasp and yell blasphemy! but the older woman only shrugged. "Yes, the Starks worship the Old Gods, as do most of the North. Only the Manderlys do not." She paused. "What is the seat of House Manderly?"

Valora groaned, laying back down on the ground. Septa Ginvera liked to do that — asking questions about noble families out of nowhere. She said it was to keep Valora's mind sharp. "White Harbor."

"What is the seat of House Stark?"

"Winterhell."

"It's Winterfell."

"I know."

Septa Ginvera snorted, but quickly covered it up with a cough. She cleared her throat. "I heard Eddard Stark has been named Hand in replacement for Jon Arryn. Is that true?"

"It is." Valora nodded. She didn't care much of Eddard Stark becoming Hand of the King. He must think himself another Cregan Stark come again, she thought. A northerner won't last long in the south. He'll run off soon enough and perhaps take his daughter with him. "I do not want some tree-worshipping brute to be my queen."

Valora almost felt bad for saying rude things about Sansa Stark, especially without ever meeting the girl. She may be perfectly lovely and sweet... but Valora truly did not wish to have a queen that was a northerner, lest a savage one who worships false gods and trees.

"I do not recall you having a choice," Septa Ginvera chastised. "And don't be rude, it's a sin to—"

"To judge, or you will be judged too." Valora interrupted, already recalling the line the woman would recite. "I've read the Seven-Point Star too."

"How about you read it again?"

"I would rather go over the accounts," Valora grumbled, earning a flick by her ear from her septa. "I'll pray later, I swear!"

Septa Ginvera tutted, muttering under her breath before looking over her with a battered book. Valora knew how much her septa hated sums and doing household chores, and she was of no help when Valora needed assistance running the household — a frequent thing in a castle the size of Casterly Rock. Valora didn't mind looking over accounts and doing the sums that go along with it. Numbers were rather difficult for her, but she always liked the challenge they presented and the warmth that blossomed in her chest when finally understood. Which was a good thing, as with her position, she often saw many sums when she reviewed the accounts.

After her mother perished when she was three years of age, the title of Lady of the Rock went to Ilaria, as their father never remarried and Cersei was too busy being queen. Of course her sister was far too young to do much, so their Aunt Genna mainly did all that the Lady of the Rock should. Ilaria was sent to the Red Keep to serve their queenly sister a few years laters, and so Valora took the position of Lady of the Rock when she was only ten. It was a position she enjoyed greatly.

She planned the menus with the cooks, hosted any guests that came, inspected the work of the servants, and went over the stores and accounts with the steward. She knew how much grain they had, how many ships were docked in their ports, and what merchants went through them. She entertained every lord and lady that entered her castle's golden halls, and kept them delighted and joyful while her father's face remained unreadable. She even prepared horses and saddles whenever her father or one of her uncles chose to leave the Rock. Truthfully, if she could, she would remain forever at Casterly Rock as it's mistress.

"Lora," Septa Ginvera said. Valora cringed at the nickname. A child's name that will follow me into my womanhood. "I know how much you adore idle chatter, no matter—"

"No matter how much it demeans the soul. You repeat yourself far too oft."

"Do not play smart with me."

"But I am smart!" Valora objected, grinning to herself.

"Hardly. Now, quiet," her septa shushed her. "Do you remember Aylee Farman?" she asked, and Valora's smile faded away.

Aylee. Valora hadn't heard that name in a long time and it had been even longer since she had seen the girl, but she remembered Aylee very well. She remembered her bright green eyes and her red hair that reminded her of the inside of a blood orange. She remembered Aylee's crooked grin, showing off the gap between her front two teeth and the dimple that adorned the left side of her cheek. When Teora had first come to her service, Valora had been disappointed by the little resemblance she bore to her cousin, despite the same fiery hair they shared.

Valora nodded quickly, ducking her head down so her septa couldn't see her face that was becoming aflame. "She was a companion of Ilaria's. A favorite of hers."

"One that you begged her to send away."

"I didn't like her," Valora mumbled. I didn't like her hair, I didn't like her eyes, I didn't like her crooked grin... "I didn't like her at all."

When she was young, still needing to be watched and coddled, she loved to hang on Ilaria's sleeve, no matter how much it annoyed Ilaria to have her little sister following her everywhere. She was practically her shadow, even following Ilaria when she wished to be alone or when she was with her companions, all older than Valora. As children, many lords sent their daughters to Casterly Rock to be play companions for Tywin Lannister's young daughters. Valora would make friends with every single one of them, but Ilaria only cared about two.

The first was Emilee Lannister, a horrid bitch who thought far too highly of herself. Before Lynessa, Emilee was the person Valora despised most in the world. She would always play some terrible prank on her; hiding horse dung underneath her sheets, soaking all her gowns in a dye that was a hideous shade of green, or placing bright pink dye from Tyrosh in her hair when she was asleep. Ilaria thought all these japes were hilarious, but Valora was always less than amused.

The other one was Aylee Farman, the tall girl that hailed from Fair Isle who was only a year older than Valora. She never played mean japes on her and always told Emilee to stop being cruel. She would gladly spend time with Valora, even when Emilee and Ilaria had run off, and spend hours playing whatever silly game Valora wanted to play. She was so sweet that Valora somehow ended up hating her a little, too.

"She joined a motherhouse to become a septa," Septa Ginvera smiled, absentmindedly touching the rainbow crystal that was hanging from her neck. "Bless her soul."

Valora snapped her head up, her eyes widening at the news. A septa? She tugged on a strand of hair that fell loose from her braid. A bitter taste formed in her mouth at the thought of Aylee wearing white robes. "I'm tired. I should retreat to my chambers now." she mumbled, pulling herself up on her feet.

"It's hardly noon, Lora."

"Valora!" she snapped, feeling her face heat up. "Don't call me Lora! I'm not a child anymore!"

Septa Ginvera didn't seem all too impressed by her outburst. "You are acting like a child. What is wrong with you today?"

Valora didn't reply, instead choosing the very matureresponse of groaning loudly and fleeing the room, slamming the door so loudly behind her that the echo could be heard throughout all of the castle. That was childish of her, she knew, but it was the easiest way to show her dissatisfaction at her septa's needling.

As soon as she was in the hall, she began to pick up her pace until she was running. Her mind was a jumble from what Septa Ginvera had told her and her rapidly-beating heart seemed to only pound faster the more she ran. If there was one thing she disliked about the Rock, it was how wide it was. It seemed to take hours to get from one hall to the other. It was only when she arrived in front of the door of the abandoned chambers did her thoughts finally begin to resemble something coherent.

A septa? Aylee had always been a very religious girl from what Valora recalled, but becoming a stupid septa? There were very few reasons a woman became a septa: because they truly loved the gods that much, or because they were forced into it as a way for fathers to rid themselves of unwanted daughters, or they wished to avoid marriage. Marriage. Valora's mouth went dry at the thought of Aylee marrying. She preferred her to be a septa. "Septa Aylee," she muttered, cringing at how the two words seemed to clash against one another.

Valora sighed, opening the wooden door to be greeted by the paintings her mother had created. After her mother's death, her father had taken all the items from the lady's chambers and placed them in the abandoned one. Valora had already taken most of the jewels and gowns her mother left behind, leaving only large canvases; beautiful works of art her mother painted when she was alive.

It always comforted her to see the dusty paintings, to touch the rough texture of the canvas, and to look at the careful strokes of the brushes. It reminded her of the blurry memories of her youth, of watching her mother paint and putting her own tiny fists into the jars of paint while her mother struggled to hold her laughter. It reminded her of her mother and that was always comforting, and she expected it to have the same effect now.

She, however, didn't expect to see a presence lingering in the normally abandoned room.

"What are you doing?" Valora asked shakily, unable to keep the anger slithering into her voice. She glared at the girl that held a book in her hand, standing beside an open drawer. "You shouldn't be here!"

The girl dropped the book in her hands in surprise, her face turning white. "M'lady! I-I..."

"What are you doing here?" Valora repeated, twisting her face into a scowl.

"I was cleaning and I got distracted, m'lady..."

The girl didn't appear to be much older than Valora, and by the plainness of her clothing, she must've been of common birth; a maid perhaps, if she was roaming the halls of Casterly Rock. Her frown deepened, trying to pin where she had seen the girl before, until she recognized her as one of the maids that would clean her chambers. Valora had always prided herself on being able to differentiate between the countless servants in her castle, fixating on a feature of theirs so she could remember who they were. She was never able to remember any names; there were far too many and they were only servants, after all. Their names were hardly important, but she gave them names of her own in her head.

Valora frowned, trying to remember the name she gave this girl. Scarred Maid, she finally remembered. The girl was plain compared to the well-dressed ladies of nobility, but she was still rather pretty for a girl of common birth, with a round face and thick black hair. Only the scar that reached from the corner of her eye down to her chin took away from her beauty, but even then, she was still pretty to look at. She looked even prettier with her hair tied into braids on each side of her head that were secured as a low bun when they reached the base of her neck, instead of the tight coil braid it was usually put in that somehow allowed her hair to fall loose and in front of her face. Her dark, angular eyes were more easily seen and her tanned skin seemed to be free of any dust or grime, unlike the few other times Valora has seen her, when the girl was scrubbing chamber pots with vague disgust on her face. Even her gown held no wrinkles and seemed far nicer than anything Valora had ever seen her in.

She wanted to ask the girl why she was all cleaned up, but the question got stuck in her throat. "Leave," she said instead. She would allow the girl to go free this time; she prettied herself up for someone and it would be a shame for only Valora to see her like that, and not someone who at least knew her name.

"Leave," she repeated when the girl just stared at her with a gaping mouth. She straightened her back, trying to think of what her Aunt Genna might say. "Before I change my mind and have you flogged."

That seemed to break the girl out of her stupor. She nodded frantically then scurried out of the room with mumbled apologies. Valora sighed as the door closed, turning her attention to the state of the room the chambermaid had left it in. Not much was wildly out of order, only a drawer containing old and battered pieces of parchment was open and the book the chambermaid held was now on the ground. Valora closed the drawer and picked up the book off the floor, scrunching her nose as she flipped through it. She had never seen it before; it had likely been hidden in one of the drawers. Valora never went through the drawers, since she always figured it was full of boring books and she had never been one to care much about reading.

The book could hardly be called a book. Calling it a stack of yellow-tinted parchment tied together by pieces of string might have been more accurate. It looked as if it was worth nothing more than a rag to use to clean up dirt and Valora briefly played with the notion of doing just that, before she saw the name that was scrawled on the first page.

Marianne Arareris. 283.

Her eyes widened when she saw the name, almost dropping the book herself. She began to flip through the pages frantically. She didn't know what she was searching for, but it was the first time she had ever come across written words from her mother. All she ever had of her were the paintings locked away in these dusty chambers and her jewels that Valora kept close to her bed.

The pages didn't seem to hold much — mostly random scribbles of half-drawn monsters and men, or unorganized notes. There seemed to be letters written in the pages; perhaps drafts of letters she sent or ones she never did. Valora had quickly grown bored of reading the first one, which was about accounting for all the treasures in the Golden Gallery, and was written for her Uncle Gerion, who had long since been lost and dead.

Valora pressed the clumsily-made book to her chest, her shoulders falling. She didn't know what she was expecting, but she was hoping for something more. Something more revealing than a list of treasures that she had already seen and forgotten letters and unfinished drawings.

She leaned against the wall, staring at all the items in the room. There were nearly forty paintings in the chambers, stacked in front of each other. Valora had counted all the paintings once before, and placed the ones she liked the most in the front so she could see them. There was one of dragons, black as night, with eyes like purple stones, falling from the skies and into the flames beneath them to burn. Another was of a large spider playing with puppets in the shape of dragons and wolves and lions, putting on a mummer's show. But there was only one woman in the audience, her back turned so only her black hair was shown.

Her most favorite one, however, would always be the one with the monsters. These monsters were tall and thin, their ripped skin sticking to their bones, but that did not make them any less frightening. Their skin was white as the snow that fell behind them and their bones glowed from underneath. But, it was their eyes that struck the most uneasiness in her heart. They were bright blue. A searing ice rested in their eyes, awaiting and stalking their prey. Valora could feel her skin burning just by looking at it.

There was a knight in the painting too, holding a crumbling sword in his arms, ready to fight the beasts. But, the knight didn't seem brave or victorious; he seemed more scared and injured, and Valora pitied him. In her mind, she imagined the monsters were without mercy and they tore the knight apart, limb by limb, until there was nothing but blood and bones. It was almost terrifying to look at, but Valora reveled in it.

Septa Ginvera was thoroughly disturbed when Valora had shown her favorite paintings, complaining how strange it was that she liked the gruesome ones and not the colorful ones. Valora didn't see the problem; they were only paintings, after all. Besides, Ilaria had a painting of a woman with a knife over a man's corpse hung over her bed and no one was scolding her for it.

Valora sighed, straightening her back and heading towards the door, then slipping out into the empty hall. Her enjoyment had greatly diminished by that chambermaid's nosing about, even if it did get her mind off what had been troubling her. Stupid Aylee, she thought bitterly as she stomped through the halls. Stupid Lynessa. Stupid chambermaid.

She forced any grumbles and frowns from her face once she made a turn into a hall filled with men and women scurrying around. She smiled and greeted all the ones she knew, even stopping to chat with a few before resuming her walking. She wasn't entirely certain where she was heading, until she found herself in front of her lord father's solar. For a moment she was tempted to leave, so as not to disturb her father, but then she decided against it.

She liked being in the solar and around Lord Tywin Oftentimes, they would sit in silence, her father rifling through his papers and Valora finishing her embroidery. Her father was always sweet to her, gifting her with whatever she wanted, from brightly colored gowns on her tenth nameday to five sand steeds when she had blossomed into a woman. Her Aunt Genna told her once that there were few men like her father and Valora agreed; there was no one as respected, feared, or admired like him. He brought down the Reynes and Tarbecks, and men said he was the true king when Aerys ruled — feats no other men had. She always wanted to be just like him; a giant walking among men.

The only flaw her father had was the way he sometimes looked at her — like she was small and insignificant. She could never understand why he would look at her like that.

She knocked on the door, and then again when she received no answer. After standing still for a few moments, she opened the door herself, deciding she could always apologize for coming in uninvited afterwards. Her father was sitting in his solar as she expected, though the sight of her brother was one she did not predict.

Loren stood besides their father, a smirk on his lips. "Sister," he said happily, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her in a hug — one Valora was too surprised to return. He let go of her, stepping back to study her face. "It's good to see you, Lora."

Loren stood taller than the last time she saw him. He looked very different from her, despite sharing the same mother and father; her skin was pale, while his was copper; her eyes were light, while his was dark; her hair was yellow, while his was black. He looked like their mother, as did Ilaria and Damon, while she held their father's coloring. His black hair was short and cropped as it always was, and his brown eyes twinkled with something akin to mischief, as they always did. Yet still, he stood taller.

It must have been the knighthood he received after emerging victorious in the joust during Lord Banefort's tourney. Valora was surprised to have heard he had won the joust and was knighted by Ser Addam Marband. Though she could grudgingly admit her brother had a clever mind, Loren had never been much of a jouster, and even less of a swordsman. Knowing her brother, he must have tricked and deceived his way towards the knighthood! Why, she did not know; Loren never cared much about being knighted, unliked Damon, who could only speak about his stupid swords and knightly tales.

"Loren." Valora stared at her brother, too shocked to even correct him on the use of Lora. She was not expecting to see her brother anytime soon. She was not expecting to see him at all. "I was not told that you were coming, otherwise I would have prepared something."

"Neither was I," their father said. He didn't seem very impressed by Loren's sudden reappearance. Valora wondered if he would tell Loren to go back to whatever cave he had crawled out of. If their father demanded for Loren to leave, then he would have no choice but to do what he was told. "I thought you were in the Reach."

"I was," Loren replied. "I saw all the flowery armor and golden roses Highgarden has to offer. The Tyrells are rich enough, for a lot of upstart stewards. Then I decided that I saw enough of it."

Valora bristled; she had thought that the glamor of the Reach and his newly given knighthood would keep Loren adrift much longer. He always loathed to visit the Rock. Even she could see that. He would rarely come to visit, and when he did, his stay was always short. Why would he suddenly come back with no warning? "Not that I didn't miss you dearly," she said sweetly, earning a look of disbelief from Loren, "but why cut your travels short? I was told you planned to travel to Dorne and then Braavos."

"I came for your nameday celebration. I've been told it's going to be an extravagant celebration."

Her shoulders relaxed at Loren's response. It made plenty of sense for Loren to abruptly stop his travels for her nameday celebration; it was encouraged. Then, once all the celebrations were done, he could leave once again. Why would he stay, when he has taken every chance to leave the Rock? Loren truly didn't have to settle at the Rock until their father's death, and their father was still a long way from embracing the Stranger's grasp.

Their father arched an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

"No." Loren puffed out his chest. "You were right in what you said; it is time for me to stop my boyish travels and adventures. I have had more than enough of them. I will be of seventeen years soon enough, and I should not be running from my responsibilities."

"You plan to remain at the Rock," their father stated, his stare focused on Loren entirely. The two of them seemed to have forgotten about her presence, and Valora resisted the strong urge to wave her hands and bring their focus upon her. I am still here, and I do not like this!

Loren grinned. Her brother always smiled, but she mistrusted his smile more than she mistrusted Lynessa's laughter. It was never a true smile — there was always something lurking underneath. Despite having the Dornish coloring of their mother, Valora always thought the Mother made him in the image of Lann the Clever.

"Not only that, during Lora's nameday, I plan to announce my engagement to Lelia. We will wed in a few months time, and I will sire a child of my own, cementing your legacy, Father."

Valora coughed loudly, staring incredulously at her brother. Married? Children? Loren was far too young to be a husband or father, and was far too young to be even thinking of any such thing! Valora could hardly imagine Lelia, their cousin and the girl Loren had been betrothed to for the past two years, being a mother with suckling babes at her breast.

It would be horrible enough if Loren decided to stay at the Rock, with Valora having to defer to him on every decision, but if he weds that insipid Lelia Lannister, then she would become Lady of Casterly Rock! A title that Valora's mother first held, then Ilaria after Marianne's death, and one now that Valora has held for the past four years ever since Ilaria left for the Red Keep! A title she had certainly earned by now and deserved to keep far more than anyone else.

Father did not reply at first, his emerald eyes stared at Loren with such intensity that Valora could begin to see her brother lose his confidence. Finally, he nodded once, which was perhaps the closest sign of approval anyone could receive from Tywin Lannister. "I will have your chambers prepared," he said, "and we will discuss all that you missed on your... travels." He stood up, staring at both Valora and Loren with an unreadable expression. His sharp gaze finally settled his son. "I have other work to tend to, but we will continue this discussion later. I expect no disobedience, do you understand?"

Loren's smile faltered. "I do, my lord." He nodded solemnly as their father left the solar.

Valora waited until the door shut behind their father before turning her glare to Loren. "You bloody bastard!" she hissed, pushing Loren with the hand that wasn't clutching her mother's book. Loren only stumbled back a few steps and laughed. "You—"

"Not the welcome I was expecting." Loren said dryly. "Though far nicer than what I thought you would say."

"Why aren't you at the Reach?" she asked. "I do not believe it's because you decided to stop all your fun, especially after you have recently received your knighthood."

Loren shrugged. "I got bored! Besides, I hated that miserable land. I fucking hated the Reachmen even more; the whole lot of of them are thrice-damned cunts. All the roses smelled foul like shit and were covered in thorns."

Valora knew if their father could hear Loren, he would cuff his ears for using such foul language and speaking like an illiterate sailor. He always spoke like an illiterate sailor when their father was out of earshot. I should cuff his ears, she thought, for being such a pain. "Then why not go to Braavos, like you told everyone you were?"

"What I told Father is the truth. I had my fun and now that I am a man grown, it is time for me to take my place here. I will be the Lord of Casterly Rock once Father dies." Loren leaned against the desk, a sardonic smile appearing in his place. "Tell me, Sister, is our dear father closer to the Stranger's grasp?"

"Healthy and hail, to your dismay, I'm assured." Valora frowned.

"It is good then, that I am a patient man." Loren's smile faded. "How dearly the gods must love our father."

Valora groaned. She did not care to hear any more of Loren's distaste for their father. She cared about far more important things, like if marrying Lelia was something he planned to do right now or another product of one of his fickle moods. "Do you truly plan to wed Lelia?" she asked. "I hope you know she is very stupid."

Loren wrinkled his nose. "Is she?"

"No," Valora admitted with a scowl. She hadn't spent much time with her cousin, but Lelia didn't seem that stupid, only very quiet. "But you will hate her anyway. Speaking of why, how does Alyn feel about this impending marriage of yours?"

Loren, for his credit, did not flinch. "As my closest friend, he supports it. Unlike my sister, who seems very upset that I am here. Lelia is a sweet girl and I am sure she will be a good Lady of the Rock, as I am sure you will help guide her before you leave."

Leave? She nearly scoffed at that. "Fine, I will humor you. Why am I leaving?"

"Marriage."

"Marriage," Valora repeated, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. If the idea of Loren marrying was strange, the idea of her wearing her maiden's cloak and saying her wedding vows was laughable. She had only recently flowered and there was no such urgency. There was no need to wed so soon and she has no want to do so. "I refused to wed for a long while, and I'm sure Leo feels the same."

Leo Lydden was the boy she had been betrothed to since she was eleven years of age — an arrangement made by their fathers. Loren had even approved, since he had been sent to be a cupbearer for Lord Lewys Lydden when he was nine years of age, and became close friends with his sons. The Lyddens were a prominent house in the Westerlands, and their mines were nearly as full as the Rock's. Loren had always said a match between the two houses would be the most lucrative, but Valora did not care how advantageous a match between her and Leo was. When she actually met Leo, it didn't take long for her to determine that he was an insufferable and obnoxious boy.

Valora knew that her father saw Leo as a placeholder until he could find a better match, like a Lord Paramount's son. However, there were only so many unmarried heirs to Great Houses, and they would be reserved solely for Ilaria, who was older and far better suited. Valora was content with staying in Casterly Rock for the rest of her life, and if not that, she'd find a way to remain in the Westerlands.

Loren shook his head. "I'm not talking about Leo. Has Father told you how he has been in talks with the Tyrells for a betrothal?"

Valora did not know that. "It must be for Ilaria then, because I am already betrothed."

Loren shook his head. "An alliance with the Tyrells is far greater than that of our own bannermen. I was speaking to Lord Mace, and it is clear to me that those insufferable tools would prefer to have a bride that doesn't favour Dornish looks. I wouldn't have you wed immediately, but instead send you to live at Highgarden until such a time." He gave an irritated sigh. "Now, if those hapless gits will stop dragging their feet..."

Valora tugged on a loose strand of her hair. The last thing she wished to do was marry and be sent away to some strange castle, though that seemed to be exactly what Loren intended to do."What of Ilaria?"

"I've already begun correspondence with Hoster Tully. There was once talks of a match between Jaime and Lysa Arryn, and I thought it might do well to revive such ideas, even if the old trout is seeming more hesitant at the idea than I thought. Lady of Riverrun is a good position. Ilaria will agree," Loren surmised. "If not him, there are plenty of others that are suited for Ilaria, in places she will do better in than Highgarden; the Hightowers, the Blackwoods, perhaps Renly Baratheon... even the Starks would give us some benefit, though that might be scraping the bottom of the barrel to look so far north."

"What about Leo?"

"Leo will understand — Lady of Highgarden is better than Lady of Deep Den. Anyway, there are plenty of unwed Lannister maids he can marry if he makes too much of a fuss."

No, she thought, you will not send me away! "I love him," Valora blurted out. It was an obvious lie. She could hardly stand to be around the obnoxious heir, but Loren had always been a bit of a romantic.

"You think Leo is an insufferable arse," Loren pointed out, seeing right through her farce. "He's my friend and I think he's an insufferable arse." He laughed. "You are truly a terrible liar! You just want to remain here, but your duty demands otherwise."

"Bold of you to speak of duty," Valora grumbled, pressing the book against her chest. "I won't let you do this."

"I'm not forcing you to do anything. These are Father's wishes," Loren told her, irritation seeping into his voice. Valora wanted to call him a liar, that Father would never send her away, but she is not certain how true that would be. "I know I have been shirking my duties, and I left so many of them in your hands but I am Father's heir. Not you."

You shouldn't be, she thought. You haven't earned the right. Not like she had. Loren had run away from the Rock, but Valora stayed. She ran the household, she made impressions with incoming lords and ladies, she knew how much grain they had and knew how much gold was in their mines. Loren, Tyrion, Damon, and the others, they were not deserving of Casterly Rock, like she was. And I am last in the line of succession, she remembered glumly. The gods must have deemed her as fine entertainment.

Valora was tempted to say just that, but decided otherwise. Loren will just throw a childish fit if she did. "I never said otherwise."

"You are a Lannister of the Rock, dear sister. We will find you a position you are more than worthy of." Loren's words were of no comfort to her. Nothing would be so good as Lady of Casterly Rock. Her brother took a step forward. "You are a clever girl, Lora, but you should lower your ambitions."

Valora glared at him. "You are terrible."

"How very kind." Loren said sarcastically, making his way towards the door. "Don't look so glum, it's not as if you're going into exile." With that, he was gone. Two weeks, Valora thought. Two weeks before he scurries away with his tail tucked between his tail.

Valora groaned once she was left alone in the solar, tugging on the wisps of hair at the base of her neck. He's ruining everything, she thought miserably. Her brother would be able to force her away from the Rock. He always hated to share — even though he spent most of his life doing all he could to avoid staying too long at the Rock. There must be a way to stop whatever marriage Loren was trying to force onto her! There was certainly no way to convince their father against the idea, but perhaps Aunt Genna would be more sympathetic.

She walked towards her father's seat, collapsing in the chair and dropping the book on the desk in front of her. When she was younger, she would sneak into the solar and sit in her father's seat, pretending she was a lord, just like him. Valora always liked sitting there; it made her feel powerful, especially when she felt so helpless.

She sighed, flipping the book open to a random page. There was a draft of a letter on this page too, with a few words scratched out and scribbles of flowers on the worn corners. Valora pulled the book forward, her eyes scanning the page. It wasn't anything of great importance — just a simple letter her mother sent to her own mother, full of idle gossip and questions of Dorne, and plenty of I have missed you dearlys. Valora's breath hitched in her throat when she read the letter. The two seemed so close, and she wondered if she would have been close to her mother as well, if she had lived. Suddenly her vision became blurred.

She placed the book down. Her lady grandmother must know a lot about her mother; things that Valora didn't know. She knew so little of her mother, and perhaps reminiscing with her grandmother would be a moment to cherish. Valora found the parchment and ink her father hid in his desk drawer, that she only knew was there from years of snooping. She placed a piece of fresh parchment on the desk and the small jar of ink neatly beside it, a quill already sticking out of the jar.

Valora dipped the quill into the ink, trying to remember the name of her grandmother before placing the tip of the quill to the parchment. Lady Deria Araeris...

thank you /crownlands (on wattpad) for beta reading this chapter and making it actually readable!

meet valora! tywin's youngest daughter and literally the only one of his kids whose story is set in casterly rock. due to us having very little information on the westerlands and ppl who live there, most of the side characters in her story are ocs.

what are your thoughts on valora? on loren?