It was something that Taria would say to herself every time she had felt a sting in her heart about being a bastard. King Jon had been a Snow as well. Growing up as she had, it was something she had repeated even out loud when she would hear the tone of disgust in others words. A sort of prayer, something that would keep her pacified in her younger days, smug in her teen years, perhaps even satisfied.

Hearing Viserys saying the same reminded her of those days past. There was a cynical part of her that wished to protest. King Jon had still grown up in Winter fell with his family, a loving father, the late Eddard Stark, and his siblings! But then Viserys had mentioned Ser Bronn's name. Being the well-travelled woman she was, she knew very well he had been a cutthroat, a mercenary who worked for money. Not much different than her, aside from the murdering part.

A small breath escaped her and she smiled once more, looking rather sheepish. "You're right, Your Highness," she replied, eyes returning to the Prince. "I expect I'm simply not used to such finery and colours, as you mentioned." She gave a small chuckle before continuing. "Or hearing such kind words from someone as noble as a Prince." Lords of much lesser pedigrees than royalty tended to look at anyone less than them with narrowed eyes and noses in the air. It wasn’t a surprise that Taria found Viserys’ attention rare, albeit pleasing.

She took his arm when offered, and this time around seemed much more at ease than she had before. Taria didn’t make it a habit of talking to others about her travels, but that was simply because she didn’t think anyone would be too interested in them. Prince Viserys seemed to be, however, so she was quite happy to share little tidbits from here and there, even mentioning about her one year stay in Dorne. In turn, she was most interested in hearing about the prince’s life. In her opinion, her life adventures paled in comparison to growing up as a Royal, that too, one who was a dragon rider! 

Being introduced to the Prince’s wife was something of a surprise, especially when it turned out that the beautiful Dornish Princess, with her smooth voice and words, caused her cheeks to pinken more than the Prince had with his compliments. [i]Oh, you’re a silly one, Taria,[/i] she scolded herself. She found herself too tongue-tied to say anything in reply besides smiling and giving a half decent bow of sorts. 

The offer to joined the feast was one she couldn’t refuse. She wasn’t sure how at ease she would feel up amongst the high and mighty; she was used to scum in taverns who drank and belched and called out lewdly to the barmaids and prostitutes. She was sure it wasn’t the same here. Someone had once told her that lords and ladies were the same as peasants, they simply had enough gold to cover up their dirty deeds.

Seeing the courtesy she was receiving, however, was changing her mind, at least a little. So far her meetings today had only been fortuitous, and she had no reason to suspect that they would soon change to worse. “Your Highness,” she replied, shaking her head a little. “It’s my honour to join you all.” How could he say that he would be in her debt? That had to simply be more flowery charm.

It seemed the luck of the day continued to follow her. Being embraced by the groom and the bride, two people she had never thought to ever meet? If it weren’t for the fact that most of the day had been filled with such unexpected occurrences, Taria would have thought herself dreaming. Inwardly telling herself not to look like something carved out of stone, and to reciprocate the happiness and cheer the others were showing. 

Truly, it wasn’t too hard once she allowed herself to properly relaxed. The stigma of being a bastard seemed lost on those here. They had to know she was one. Her father had never married before he was cut. So then, if they were perfectly pleased with who she was, then why was she holding on to the name Snow and forcing it to be a wall between them? 

She let herself be readily introduced to Jenn and Steffon, noting the difference between the two. [i]Probably not family,[/i] she told herself, but that was simply based on their looks. She chatted politely, though listened more that talked. She’d always been more of an observer, after all.

After returning a greeting and kind words to Daenyra, Taria couldn’t help but nod and smile, a little less sheepish than she had been before, but nevertheless abashed. Taking the cup of wine, she took a sip before speaking.

“I’m afraid I misjudged,” she admitted, fiddling a little with her cup. “Perhaps there is much to find in such a life. Though…” She chuckled a little, looking up with a small grin. “I [i]am[/i] Ironborn after all. Travelling is part of me; no luxury would steal me away from it.” The thought of a sea voyage cast a yearning in her mixed with trepidation. “If your Highness wishes, then I’d be honoured. There are many places I have yet to visit… Westeros is only one part of our world, albeit a very important part… I wish to one day cross the Narrow Sea.” There was no way she could mention she was scared of sailing, gods damn it! If push came to shove, she would simply force herself to get hold of herself and over it!

[center]***[/center]
Taria had never seen nor eaten as much food as she had today. In fact, it took only the first five courses before she found that she could no longer eat without feeling like she would throw up. Luckily enough for her, a couple of cats had decided to take residence under her part of the table, where the Greyjoy bastard would slip some food that she had been made to eat. She tasted everything, yes, but it was no more than that. 

Once she could no longer do even that, she drank instead, water, wine, and later, watered down wine. The alcohol was finally giving her a little buzz, a brightness in her eyes, and redness in her cheeks. She remained quiet, of course, looking over the rest of those gathered on the tables nearest to the throne. She could easily recognize Targaryens with their beautiful hair and unique eyes, and of course the Lannisters… who didn’t recognize them? Taria had heard that name since she was a babe, as much as she had heard the name Stark. 

Intrigued eyes looked away from those she had already met and concentrated on unfamiliar faces instead. Most of the sigils she recognized, though she wasn’t too sure why they were asked to sit in seats of honour. Perhaps she had more mingling to do, as her father had told her earlier? 

[i]More wine first,[/i] she told herself, licking her lips as she reached for her cup. Her hand paused as she felt something beside it. Looking away from the crowd and down to the table, she saw a note by her cup. “Huh,” she breathed out, wondering when anyone may have placed It there. Curious, she pulled it out and began to read. 

The buzz she was feeling seemed to diminish as she finished reading the note, and instead, she shuddered.[i] The Stepstones…[/i] She sat with her hands under the table, fingers clenched around the note.[i] I can’t… can I?[/i] Her eyes shut tightly, and her grip on the note tightened even more.[i] I… I have to. I need to.[/i] The Drowned God hadn’t taken her last time. Why would he have any need to this time around? It wasn’t sound logic, but then again, Taria was a little inebriated at the moment.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the king began to speak, though the words weren’t making much sense to her right now. She vaguely something about bedding, and then the noise in the room increased a hundred fold. She stood up along with the rest, but it wasn’t toward the bride or the groom that she made her way. Note clench in one hand, she quickly disappeared into the crowd, making her way out of the throne room, or at least trying to. She needed to think, she needed clarity, and with all the festivities, the noise, and siren song of alcohol, she didn’t think she would have any chance of decision making whilst here.

[center]***[/center]
Taria had not returned to the inn where she usually slept away her nights. Instead, after quite a bit of wandering through the streets, she found herself by the docks, staring out at the ships in the distance Once more in control of her senses, she found herself wondering if she should have simply left as she had. [i]Well, it isn’t as if it will be noticed that you’re gone.[/i] She straightened the note once more, reading it for the umpteenth time. Was the reward worth the risk? The scared -[i]coward,[/i] she thought- part of her didn’t think so. Her pride, however, seemed to be strengthening. What kind of Greyjoy was scared of the travelling on water? She had salt and iron running through her! 

“Seven Hells!” She kicked a stone as hard as she could, watching it fly through the air and landing with a splash in the water. She watched the ripples in the water before sighing and turning around. Perhaps it was best to decline? Even that sat wrong with her. Someone thought she was worthy enough to do something for the kingdom. 

There was still time to decided, so Taria decided she would sleep over her decision and make it in the morning. She turned away from the water and started away from the docks, intent on returning to the inn. At least she wouldn’t have to pay for a late-night meal; she still felt as if she could go a couple of days without eating.

Her walk was however interrupted. The night was quiet, but then, from afar, she could hear some disquiet. At first, Taria wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from, but the further into the city she headed, the more certain she was it was coming the east of her location, which was pretty much where the Red Keep was located. Was everything there alright? She only had to look up at the keep and then the skies beyond to see the dragons flying. No, it didn’t seem like everything was alright.

She wouldn’t be any help there, that much she knew, but she couldn’t stop herself from continuing to the gates at least. What if her father was still there? She didn’t even say goodbye to him before leaving!