Taria Snow was an early riser from a young age. It came with growing up in a brothel, yes, but she also liked watching the sun rise. There was something about the cool early morning, the dark sky slowly lightening, the red, pink and orange spreading through the sky, only to be preceded by a bold and dark sun. If she'd had a way with words, perhaps the bastard would have written a poem about the feelings it incited in her. Instead, she would simply watch from the tallest climbable building she could find. A few moments of peace before the rest of the day's hustle and bustle.

It remained that way even as she grew, even here in King's Landing, and especially today. Now it wasn't as if she was all too interested in the Prince's marriage or anything of the sort. People with names were always getting married, and this wouldn't be the first time she was in the city of such festivities. Though, in all fairness, even she had to admit that a Prince's wedding was a [i]much[/i] bigger affair than one of a lord. Everyone was in high spirits, from high-born to commoners, and the city actually seemed and smelled cleaner today that it normally did.

This was finally an opportunity to see the face of her father for herself.

She'd heard about him from her mother as well as they other prostitutes, raunchy tales told in between giggles and wine as they nestled upon the laps of other men. He had been a ward of Eddard Stark, a traitor who had taken over Winterfell, only to be brought down by the bastard Ramsay Bolton. The patrons of the brothel would revel in telling the tales of how he was stripped not only of his manhood but of his very name, turning him into something lower than a dog. Taria would listen quietly, curiously, sometimes even feeling sympathy for her estranged father.

Taria hadn't made any extra effort to dress up like quite a few commoners had, but she did make sure she was there early enough that she wouldn't be jostled by the crowd. She easily climbed up onto the roof of a shop, settling down comfortably, waiting for the events to take place. There was the half of her that simply wished to go back to the inn, or perhaps the rocky shores to watch the waves; there would be no work today, not with the feasting and jousting. The other half was what kept her seated on the roof. She couldn't miss this chance.

The holy men didn't interest her in the slightest. When she felt the need to, she called to the Drowned God. The rest were simply names that she heard and nodded carelessly at if spoken before her. The Mother, the Father, what had they to do with her? Nothing, not as actual parents, not as deities. She kept all this to herself, however. People were stupid when questioned about their faith, and Taria found no need to broach an excuse for the idiotic rage of others.

She continued watching, keeping to her perch even as others joined, unshaken by all the jostling, keeping a deaf ear to the cheering and waving and simpering others passed before them. Taria recognized the different factions by sight, not having any real personal contact. Perhaps a drink in the same tavern as a rider from the Mother's Legion. Perhaps chuckling over a stupid joke some street rats played on a soldier. Nothing more or less. 

Truly, it was starting to become tiresome, and Taria was even beginning to scorn herself for coming when the cheers increased in volume. [i]Of course,[/i] she thought to herself, seeing the Royal family. King Jon and Queen Daenerys. As much as she didn't wish for it, she couldn't help but feel awe. They were, after all, the reason Westeros still [i]was[/i]. Despite herself, she smiled and clapped, though refrained from cheering. Her eyes followed after them, though it wasn't long before her interest shifted. 

The dragons flew overhead, and even if she, with her bias towards sea creatures, had to admit that they made quite the beauteous sight. A slight smile touched her lips, wondering how it might actually feel, sitting upon those mighty fire-breathing beasts. She shook her head. [i]Dreams, and f**king stupid ones too.[/i]

A breath escaped her when she finally looked away, eyes swerving back to the procession, just in time to catch the Starks. They were a house she had been familiar with since her childhood until she finally left the North. However, she barely glanced at them, looking instead to those who followed. With their black cloaks, it certainly wasn't hard to see why they were called crows. Which one was [i]he[/i] though? She tried to recall what she was told about his looks by her Aunt Asha. 

"Father," she barely muttered, when she finally saw him. It was foolish, but the small hope of being validated by him burned in her for the first time in years. It was there for the smallest moment, and then she became cold. Her hands clenched and her eyes shut tightly. [i]Idiocy[/i], she told herself. There was no way she was the only Snow that had been born due to her father's many trysts. It was a fool's thought that [i]she[/i] would be any different.

She waited no longer, sliding down the roof and letting herself fall to the street below.

It was an hour or so after the vows of marriage had been taken when Taria headed toward the fairgrounds, deciding she may as well join in some sort of festivities there, the kind that had to do with free food and drink. Anything to erase her stupidity from her mind, really. As she had expected, it was crowded and noisy, but that was quite fine by her. She let her stomach lead the way for now, not paying much attention to where she was headed.