Silya was standing in the middle of the street, head tilted back, only the white of her eyes showing. People passed by her, some giving her strange looks. It was dangerous for her to be so blatantly skinchanging, but Silya had never much cared about what was dangerous or not, and besides, she got the feeling the person she was checking for would never let anyone hurt her.
Ah yes, there he was. Soaring through the air in the body of a crow, Silya scanned the crowd, the crow swooping low before landing on the roof of a house, staring in irritation at the silver-haired prince following her. He had been following her since they got there. This was why she had told Papa she didn’t want to come to King’s Landing with them. Ever since that tourney a year ago, he had been sending her letters and presents, asking for her father’s permission to court her, and when she was in town….
Zipping back into her body, Silya spun around on her toes and marched forward. Her head held high, purple and grey eyes holding that inscrutable, penetrating air that made so many men cower before Lord Nikolaus Velaryon. Her stalker could clearly tell that he’d been spotted. He was glancing from side to side, looking for an avenue of escape, backing up as she approached. Her long, slender legs took her far with every step she took, and in a moment she was upon him. “Does the Prince Rhaecerys Targaryen have some business with his humble servant?” She asked him, coldly.
He couldn’t seem to decide if he was more scared or more enchanted, still leaning back away from her, but staring at her face as if drinking in her essence, the closeness of her. He failed to say anything at all, and she closed her eyes for a long time in an expression that would’ve been a sigh on anyone else. “May I be released from your presence, my Lord?”
“That is-” He finally started speaking. “I am-“
She waited for something more, but he appeared quite speechless, so she gave up waiting. “My prince, your attentions are flattering, I’m sure, but I’ve had quite enough of you following me, or pestering my father, or sending me gifts. I have more than enough lovestruck suitors writing poems about the depths of my soul and the beauty of my eyes. So, if that is all, please leave me alone.”
She turned hard to leave again, but he grabbed her arm to stop her. “Wait.” He said. She closed her eyes again in that sigh of an expression and turned back to him, to see what he had to say for himself. “I will stop following you and sending you gifts if you wish, but at least allow me to continue to write to you.” He took both of her hands in his and looked her full in the face, though looking a bit shy about it. “I treasure your responses.”
She scrunched up her mouth, slightly. Yes, she had written him back. His letters had thus far not contained any mentions of her beauty or professions of undying love, and had instead been almost awkward inquiries after her health and happiness, and she had sort of thought it kind of sweet. Not that she would ever admit that to him. She was probably giving him too much hope as it was. “If you must.” She responded stiffly, and she had to hide the tiniest of smiles as he let out a huff of relief, whole body relaxing slightly. He hadn’t let go of her hands.
“And please, don’t skinchange outside anymore.” He added. Oh, the little prince was pushing his luck, wasn’t he? “If I can’t be with you, I’d at least like you not to put yourself in danger where I can’t see you.”
Silya pulled her hands from his and quickly turned away before he could see her face reddening slightly. “You are mistaken to think the daughters of Lord Velaryon fear danger, your highness.” She didn’t turn, not wanting to see his expression, and added quietly, “But I didn’t say you could not be with me outside occasionally when I’m skinchanging.” Before he could say anything to that, she dashed away from him, down the street, congratulating herself for having the good sense of sending her siblings away while she warged to look for him. They’d never had let her live that down if they’d seen it.