She has the ring on her finger still, the ring with stone the color of her shimmering eyes, the one he had given her the day he bended the knee and asked for her hand in marriage.
“I thought you have packed all your jewelries for the journey?” Windproud will sail on the morrow, and they will depart on the mission to find a worthy good-daughter for a glorious king.
That was how Aerys had put it, how he had described the mission entrusted to his Baratheon cousin and his lady wife.
“I could not bear to part with it,” Cassana replies, fingers nervously rubbing the stone. “What if we fail?”
“We will not fail. And even if we do … well, Aerys loves me, his dearest cousin,” Steffon says, smiling his brightest smile.
“Like he loves Tywin Lannister, his dearest and closest companion?”
, her eyes are chiding him.
What a pity, he thinks, that none of their sons had inherited Cassana’s eyes. Not the color, and certainly not the expressiveness.
Perhaps Renly has inherited the latter from his mother, though it is hard to tell for certain with a babe just past his first nameday.
As to the former, Renly’s eyes had never truly been green; it was only Steffon’s imagination gone wild in the first few moments after his youngest son’s birth.
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