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The godswood was not where she belonged, but Faerrah found herself there on many occasions in spite of her faith. She knew the heart tree was not correct, as it did not have a face, but she still felt it looking at her whenever she came there.
The autumn leaves were crisp and orange beneath her slippered feet. She typically delighted in crunching them under her toes, or raking a pile for Tommen and Myrcella to leap into. But today she was alone, humming an old princess song to herself. She did not feel like the girl in the story today.
The rustling of leaves behind her made her turn, expecting a septa, scolding her for being out by herself. Then she remembered she was in a place septas disliked treading, and her mother's golden hair appeared instead.
"What are you doing out here, my love?"
"I was just—singing."
"I didn't hear you, sweetling. Sing for your mother, won't you? Today has been tiring."
Faerrah took to her mother's side, leaning against her shoulder as she began in a whisper, shyly building up the lyrics until her voice was at its full strength. Both mother and daughter kept their eyes on the trees, watching as a new leaf fell to the ground every moment, a light breeze carrying it to the stone floor.
As she trailed off at the end of the song, the same one she was humming, Cersei wrapped her arm around her. "Beautiful, Faerrah."
She took her arm in hers. "Let's go inside. There are iced plums."
Faerrah lamented the alone time she had planned to spend in the godswood, but nevertheless smiled sweetly up at her mother. She did feel love meeting her green eyes, and decided she did not want to be alone after all.