"... sweet Mother, please bathe me in your infinite kindness and mold me in your grace. May your love make me stronger." Leona knelt next to her bed, hands joined together, eyes shut.

"For this I give you thanks."

The Lady of Summerhall remained still for some more time, musing quietly, breathing slowly, until, outisde in the city, bells began to toll with vigour.

Time to go, Leona, they said. Time to leave your hiding place.

In a moment, the Tyrell lady got out of her darkened chambers and was out in the sun-lit world. The Keep was filled with familiar sounds and painful memories. How many hours did she pass, years ago, sitting by the window and looking onto the sea, as the gulls cried and the waves crushed against Aegon's hill?

The city wasn't for her, but the Red Keep was great enough that she could be alone and in peace... most of the time, at least. She was stil the prince's wife, and as such she must let them see her face, at times. During the tourney she had recoiled, hidden, she was seen at her husband's side as rarely as possible, but today they would see her: It was her duty to him.

First, however, there was someone else she owed a visit to.

The quarters were splendid, as splendid as the ones she was once forced to call home. Golden plate and goblets sat on the tables, rich tapestries hung on the walls, fine silk draped the windows. The opulence and corruption of the capital was painful to witness, and the fact that she was part of it was irksome, at best. As the blue linen of her dress dragged on the floor, the lady avoided looking at the rooms too attentively, thinking about home instead.

Leona knocked on the nursery door thrice, lightly.

"Rhaena? Gael?" The mother spoke softly, as she always did when speaking to her children. "May I come in?"