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Poppy could feel a bead of sweat tracing a slow line down her spine, part of the back of her linen dress already wet with sweat. Even in the shaded pavilions of the Water Gardens, with the fountains pulsed with a cooling breeze to the air—the sunny sun of Dorne combined with hours of running around after little tireless legs really wore her down.
She leaned heavily against a marble pillar to rest her back. Madam Corine, the head servant back at Sunspear, had warned her before the children came.
“They might look like porcelain dolls, Poppy, but beneath those sweet little faces, the girls are absolute rascals. Do not let their smiles fool you.”
At the time, Poppy had merely smiled, entirely confident with bearing the responsibility. She had spent her adolescent years wrangling her elder siblings’ unruly nieces and nephews, had even spent two summers tutoring the rowdy commoner children at the public academy center as her first job before the Martell Family offered her a job in their Water Garden. If she could handle a class full of screaming children of blacksmiths and fishermen—she surely could handle a few highborn ladies. They were nobles. Surely, they would be polite, mannered, and easily swayed by a gentle voice.
Poppy had been right, to a certain degree.
The young girls were impeccably polite. They said please and thank you with perfect, practiced curtsies, like adorable little dolls. But they were also entirely, utterly spoiled.
They possessed an infinite amount of energy that defied the blazing Dornish heat, and the moment they were denied even the smallest whim, the sad tears began, manipulative enough to make a seasoned knight surrender. It was only the fourth day of their stay while their parents remained locked away in Sunspear—visiting a Royal Wedding and discussing whatever exhausting politics highborns discussed—and Poppy was already completely drained.
Down on the beach, across the courtyard, she caught the eye of her best friend, Magda who looked disgustingly serene. She was in charge of the boys for today, and the little gentlemen were as calm as a morning breeze. Poppy watched in jealousy as Magda causally fanned herself while laying on the canopy bed on the white sand, watching the boys splash quietly in the shallow, clear blue water. Even the boys' companion beasts were much calmer than the girls. Under the deep shade of the canopy, a small, teal-scaled dragon and a jet-black direwolf pup were miraculously curled up together, their breathing synchronized as they took a lazy afternoon nap, waiting patiently for their young masters to finish playing.
Poppy let out a long, envious sigh. Even their beasts are calmer, she thought bitterly.
In the span of just four days, Poppy had narrowly avoided losing her fingers countless times to the beasts belonging to the girls.
She looked at the little girls playing in the Garden and sighed heavily. The girls didn't choose to play in the pool for today’s activities—no, they chose to paint in the Garden instead. Poppy was ecstatic, thinking it would be a calm serene activity for the day. But a small square of hemp paper could do much before they bored the girls, the moment there was no more white their parchment—they decided to paint the literal garden, the ancient marble pillars, and even their own flowy linen dresses.
Thank heavens they were noble children whose parents always dressed in the finest silks money could buy, because the deep paint stains would actually never leave their clothes.
"Poppy! Look! I drew a flower in the shiny shell!" Poppy snapped out of her misery as a high, melodic voice echoed across the stones. Rushing towards her in full speed was one of the young ladies of Westerland, Lady Juno. Her soft warm brown curls—so characteristic of her father—were damp and plastered to her cheeks from sweat, but her green eyes she inherited from her omega father still flashed with absolute joy. In her small hands, she held a jagged, sea shell, colored with a yellow flower and thrusting it perilously close to Poppy’s face.
Right on her heels was the Targaryen Princess, younger than Lady Juno, her thick black hair braided tightly to keep it out of her chubby face. Her blue eyes were fixed on the sky, her lower lip trembling slightly. "I–I am thwisty, Poppy. I no want painting anymowe, I want a strawbewy ade and sweets!"
Poppy squatted down to the girls’ height and wiped the sweat off her face, even when they were dressed in flowy silk and linen, the sunny sun was still too much for the young girls. “Alright, Your Highness, let us clean your hands and—”
“Poppy! Poppy!” The oldest of the children, the young Lady of the North—who had just turned six—swaggered over with a bright, innocent grin and a large paint brush. “Look! I made pink paint!” she screamed in joy.
“That's wonderful, My Lady, you're so smart!”
“I combined the red and white and it turned pink!” She brought the brush closer to Poppy's face, in excitement. Offering to paint her face the way her Isä did on grand celebrations.
Poppy tried to refuse, offering a strained but polite smile. "Oh! thank you, my Lady, but the paint is not for our faces. Let us stick to the hemp and parchment, shall we?"
But out of all the kids—even her own siblings—the young Northern Lady was the most persistent in having her way. Her parents must have spoiled her to no end back in their frozen fortress. Not used to handling rejection, she puffed out her cheeks, staring Poppy down with a stubbornness that could move mountains. Eventually, as Poppy remained firm to set her boundaries, the Lady relented with a dramatic stomp of her small feet, crossing her arms and declaring loudly that Poppy was simply no fun.
Seeking an immediate outlet for her frustration, the six-year-old walked back towards the rest of the girls and snatched the paintbrush right out of her merely a year old baby sister’s hand.
The reaction was instantaneous. The little baby—let out a piercing, high-pitched scream of betrayal, her lower lip quivering as big tears welled in her amber eyes.
It caused a disastrous domino effect among the children. Waiting nearby, the little Princess of Westeros—who was already completely overstimulated from the heat and being relentlessly bothered and poked by the energetic little Lady of Westerland—now had more reason to be upset. Hearing the baby's shriek, the Princess let out a loud wail of her own, throwing her hands in the air and accidentally scattered half-dried paint onto the pristine stone path.
The peaceful afternoon had dissolved into absolute, little nobles pandemonium in a matter of seconds. Poppy closed her eyes for one long, centering breath. She wiped her colorful, paint-stained hands on a damp cloth, before rising to her feet. Her voice rose just enough to cut through the crying with calm authority.
"Alright, my Ladies," she announced, stepping into the fray to pick up the crying baby first. "It is time for a nap."
⏔⏔ ୨ৎ ⏔⏔
The nap was a much-needed break for both the girls and her. Whilst the children were filling their energy back, Poppy took the opportunity to step out onto the balcony of the Napping Chamber with Magda and enjoy some quiet time. The balcony overlooked the shimmering Dornish sea, thick with the scent of sea salt and blooming blood-oranges cutting through the afternoon air that calmed her mind.
Magda offered her a cold soothing herbal blend of tea back in the kitchen. But Poppy shook her head, and told her she would rather have a Sothoryos' kaffa bean drink right now. Something strong enough at least survived the rest of the daylight hours, tea won't cut it today.
Magda let out a soft laugh as they leaned against the balcony. "The girls couldn't possibly be that much of a hustle, can they?"
Poppy shook her head solemnly, staring into the distance. "Trust me, Magda, despite your enjoyment in dressing the girls in their little pretty dresses, you wouldn't want to exchange the boys for them."
Magda laughed harder—before quickly clapping her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed, terrified the sudden noise would wake the sleeping babies inside. "Well, to be fair," Magda whispered with an amused grin, "I only have to take care of two boys compared to your six girls."
Poppy nodded, rubbing her temples. "Still. It feels like I'm taking care of an entire classroom of children." Trying to shift the focus from her tiring day, Poppy looked at her friend. "How are the boys, anyway?"
Magda’s expression softened into an affectionate smile. “They are incredibly sweet and so remarkably smart. Honestly, Poppy, it feels like I'm taking care of the little versions of the renowned fathers—just much less intimidating and more clingy. It's really amazing to see how much they look and act like their parents. Their beasts are even brave enough to approach me now.” She nudged Poppy playfully with her elbow. "What about your lot? How have the girls really been these past few days?"
Despite the absolute exhaustion weighing—a genuine warm smile tugged at the corners of Poppy's lips. She looked back through the balcony doors at the quiet room. “They are incredibly smart,” Poppy admitted softly. “They know exactly what they like, and they definitely have been showered with the best things in life, because they completely refuse to have anything less.”
Poppy sighed affectionately as she explained her friends. The oldest of the Stark children, and in general, was a confident, persistent girl. At first glance, she could come off as a spoiled brat, but upon knowing her better she was actually a very sensitive child. She cared so deeply for her friends, and she was fiercely protective of her little brother. Though she often acted mean to her baby sister in the past few days she knew her—snatching things away and throwing tantrums when Poppy gave her sister full attention—Poppy could see through her, she understood, the Lady was probably just jealous of having a new girl in the family. She acted out for attention.
And then there is Lord Riki’s daughter. Poppy's smile widened as the picture of the little girl appeared in her mind. At only two years, she was already such a pleasant, brave, and independent child. Her cheeks were so wonderfully round, and she had Lord Riki’s distinct eye shape with his omega father's perfect cupid-bow lips.
Poppy giggled. “She’s just a fat, round little thing, always toddling after the older girls, doing her absolute best to keep up with them."
Out of all of the kids, the presumed Heir of Westerland was actually the most attentive to the baby. Unlike her twin sister—Lady Juno—who didn't understand the concept of personal space at all and was constantly in everyone's faces, the older twin was incredibly patient and considerate of her surroundings. Where other normal four-year-olds would rather run and play without a care, the little girl would rather walk slowly, stopping and waiting for the younger toddlers to follow her. She was a natural caring leader.
And of course, the little dragonling Princess, who always managed to charm her way out of any trouble—a little absolute delight to accompany. Since her arrival, the little girl had been so joyful, telling everyone who would listen that she was going to have a new baby sibling soon. She told Poppy that she hoped it was a little sister. Unfortunately, this morning the little Lady of the North told her that her parents would no longer care for her once the baby sister arrived. Now the poor little Princess was terrified that her parents were going to abandon her and her big brother in here forever.
Magda let out a soft laugh and shook her head. "Oh, the dramatic minds of children… their parents are supposed to go down here tomorrow, aren't they?"
Poppy nodded, "Yes. If all goes well, their parents will arrive tomorrow alongside our Prince Kahel and his family," She looked down at her lap, picking at a stray thread on her linen dress. “I'm actually going to miss them when they have to go," she muttered softly.
Despite all the chaos, the tantrums, the paint splatters, and the near-loss of her fingers to miniature mythical beasts, Poppy realized she had grown deeply, fiercely attached to the little girls.
⏔⏔ ୨ৎ ⏔⏔
The next morning, a highborn knight had volunteered to take the boys for a pony ride along the sandy coastline. Making Magda morning free thus, she readily joined Poppy and a couple other maids to help manage the girls by the water instead.
The young ladies had explicitly demanded to play in the pink pool this time. The water itself wasn’t actually pink, of course, but the pool's floor was made of pale pink marble—giving the beautiful illusion of shimmering pink water, a magical detail that the girls absolutely adored.
As the children splashed around, the little Lady Juno proudly announced to the others about how her father had promised to give her a rare, spotted cat for her next birthday.
Poppy smiled at the chatter, but her eyes quickly drifted to the edge of the pool where the young Lady of the North was sitting all by herself, staring quietly into the water. It was incredibly unlike her; for the past three days, she had been the loud, stubborn ringleader of every single antics and game. Afraid something had happened to her, Poppy left Magda and a couple of other caretakers to watch the rest of the girls whilst she approached the quiet Northern Girl.
She sat down gracefully on the warm pink marble beside her, the little girl lifted her head for a moment before looking back down, continuing to pick her fruits. “Would you like some chilled lemonade with your berries, my Lady?”
The little girl shook her head silently.
Poppy tried again, offering a warm smile. “Would you like to come play with me in the shallow pool?”
Again, the Lady merely shook her head, her eyes fixed on her own reflection in the water.
"Your parents are coming this afternoon, Aren't you excited? I can help you wrap gifts for them, if you like,” Poppy asked gently.
The little Lady stayed entirely quiet for a long moment. She shook her head. “No..” Then, in a small voice, she muttered, "I wish I could stay here forever."
Poppy blinked—surprised by the unexpected confession. “You wish to stay? Why is that, my Lady? Do you not miss your parents?”
The little girl clicked her tongue defensively, but Poppy could see her tough exterior was cracking, “My parents don't care about me anymore,” she whispered. Her little lips began to wobble as she looked up at Poppy with big, unshed tears. “I wish to stay with you instead.”
Poppy took pity at the sight. She reached out to gently caressing the young girl's damp hair, smoothing it back from her face. “Oh, sweet girl... what could possibly make you think such a thing?”
The Lady of the North huffed, though a tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. "M–my father doesn't care about me anymore, and neither does my Isä.” the girl told her with a shaky voice. They only care about my sister now. "They are not going to care If I stayed here in Dorne forever, they wouldn’t know I was missing."
A soft, understanding smile graced Poppy's face. She understood the sting of childhood jealousy all too well, but she also knew the truth.
"My sweet Lady…" Poppy said softly, tilting the girl's chin up. "I know it feels hard sharing your parents’s love with a new baby sister, but I know for sure that your parents love you dearly.” Poppy wiped the tear from the girl's cheek with her thumb. "who didn't care would never write such a list. They love you fiercely, my Lady, and they are probably counting the minutes until they can hold you again.
The young lady wiped her tears and shook her head stubbornly. “ No. I will stay here with you,”
"But how about your Tigerlily then?" Poppy asked gently, pointing to the white and reddish direwolf resting just a few paces away. “She couldn't stay here forever, don't you think? It would be far too hot for her. She need to stay in the snow”
The little Lady looked up at her direwolf, blinking in surprise, it seemed like this specific problem had never once crossed her mind. She jutted out her bottom lip, staring at Tigerlily’s thick, fluffy coat, then looked down at her lap.
Poppy smiled warmly at her. "And just like Tigerlily who needs to go back to the North, with her parents, my Lady, you too will have to go. Your parents will be terribly sad if you decide to stay here."
The young girl looked up, "But can you come with me as well, Poppy? I like staying with you. You are kind, and you are very nice to me." She leaned further against Poppy's side, seeking comfort.
"I wish I could, sweetheart," Poppy replied softly, smoothing down the girl's dress, "but I have other kids to take care of here in the gardens."
The young lady wrapped her small arms tightly around Poppy’s waist and sobbed. "But don't you care about me?"
"Of course I do!" Poppy smiled, wrapping an arm around the girl's small shoulders, hugging her back. "And so do your parents. In fact, their love for you is much greater than mine, my Lady."
The young lady huffed sharply. "That's a lie! They only love my brother and my sister, not me,"
"If that were true, then how come they brought you all this way down from the North so you can play with your friends and play on the beach all day?" Poppy reasoned gently. "If they didn't care for you, wouldn't they have simply left you behind in Whitefort all alone?"
The little Lady went entirely quiet, her young stubborn mind trying to process the logic. But the hurt in her expression didn't vanish. "But—but Father said he doesn't like me…" she whispered quietly, staring at her lap.
Poppy’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “ Did he really say that?"
"Yes! B–because before he left us, Father was angry a–at me, he said I couldn't come with him and Isä to Sunspear, but I really—really want to come…” the little Lady explained with sobs. Her voice trembled violently as fresh tears swelled in her eyes. "But when the baby cries, Isä carries her, and Father lets her stay with them longer before they leave. She got to stay with them and I c–can't,"
Poppy’s heart broke for the little girl, so the poor girl just wants to spend more time with her parents. Poppy gently pulled the young northern lady onto her lap, rocking her slightly. "Oh, darling..."
She combed her fingers through the girl's reddish hair, letting her cry out the misunderstanding. "I'm so sorry your father didn't allow you to come along to Sunspear. But hear me Lady, Sunspear would only be a bore for a playful little girl like you… they don't have these beautiful beaches, they don't have these pink pools, and most of the people there are just serious adults talking about boring adult things. You would be so lonely there, with no one to play with, because all of your friends are right here, my Lady. They didn't go along with their parents either, did they?" Poppy caressed the top of the girl's head, smoothing out her beautiful hair. "Your father might have sounded stern, but he only wanted you to have fun here—with me and your friends—instead of waiting in your chamber alone, he truly knows what is best for you."
The little girl stayed silent, trying to comprehend Poppy’s reasoning. When her cries died down, she asked quietly; "Will my father let me stay with him and Isä when he's back?"
"Of course, my Lady. I am certain your parents will be absolutely delighted to spend every moment with you,"
“..how could you know?” she asked, her voice small and hopeful as she looked up from Poppy's lap.
Poppy squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. "The fruit you eat—do you know that your father was the one who specifically ordered the fresh grapes to be served to you every single day? He said it is your favorite fruit, but the North couldn’t always have fresh grapes because of the cold. So he asked me to give you all the sweetest grapes every single day while you are here,”
The little girl looked at her in surprise.
“And those stories I read to you each night to help you sleep, your Isä was the one who personally brought them all the way from your library so you wouldn't have to skip a day to read them until they're finish,"
The little girl blinked, her watery eyes widening. "Really?"
"Yes," Poppy smiled warmly. "Your parents don't love your siblings more than you, my Lady… They care about all of you just the same. But your little sister is only one year old; she is still a tiny baby. She needs just a little bit more care until she can grow up to be as strong and as brave as you are."
The young Lady of the North sniffled, sinking in Poppy's words. "You think... you think I'm strong and brave?"
"Yes, I do," Poppy said without a shred of doubt. "I think you are incredibly brave, wonderfully smart, and beautiful. Your little siblings are going to be so proud to have you as their big sister when they grow up.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely, especially your little sister,” Poppy wiped the remaining tears and snot on the little Lady's face. “Now, you won't be too cruel to your baby sister anymore, alright? I am sure she missed your parents just as much as you did these past few days…. But she just couldn't tell you because she doesn't have your big-girl words yet."
The little Lady wiped her snot with the skirt of her dress and nodded solemnly. “O–okay…” she whispered. “I'm sorry I was mean, Poppy.”
Poppy chuckled softly, pulling out a clean handkerchief to gently wipe the girl's face before fixing a few stray strands of her red hair. “You don't need to apologize to me, sweet girl… Go apologize to your sister instead. Go play with her, she would be happy to have her big sister with her,”
The little Lady nodded firmly, “Okay!” a sudden spark of her usual determination returned to her eyes. She picked up her small bowl of fruit from the marble ledge and stood up. “I'm full already, I'll share my grapes with her, she can have the biggest ones.” she declared proudly, before turning to trot off toward the shallow pool where her tiny sister was sitting.
Poppy smiled at the girl's quick change of emotions before she realized that the little baby barely had any teeth to chew the grapes.
“No! my Lady!—” She quickly rose to her feet. “Don't give her the biggest one!”
⏔⏔ ୨ৎ ⏔⏔
The children’s parents arrived at the Water Gardens from Sunspear by the evening with Prince Kahel and his family—intending to stay in the Dornish Royal family summer stay for a couple of days before beginning the long journey back to their respective seats in Westeros.
Just as expected, the moment the heavy oak doors creaked open, the carefully maintained dam of proper highborn children’s emotion immediately broke. The kids scrambled across the marble courtyard in a frenzy of flying silk and tiny slippers to reach their parents. Some were running, some were crying, and all of them were desperate for their families.
The little Lady of the Stormlands toddled forward with frantic, breathless cries. Raising her hand as she called his father in repeat. Her father immediately scooped her up into his arms, kissing her round cheeks as he hugged her tight. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long, sweet girl… I missed you so much,” he whispered, holding her tight against his chest. Her omega father at his side, hugging them sideways.
Nearby, the little Targaryen Prince held his younger sister's hand, pulling her along as they ran towards their own parents together. The young Prince latched onto his omega father’s arms instantly, anxiously asking—with much worries in his little face—if he and the unborn baby were alright while they were away, while the little Princess ran straight to her alpha father with a piercing cry of joy, throwing herself into his waiting arms.
The Lannister twins were in a race towards their omega father as soon as they saw him step out of the carriage, completely ignoring their alpha father’s stern yells telling them not to run. Their father was left behind, grunting under the weight of unloading his mate’s heavy belongings—it seemed he had bought half of Sunspear's marketplace. But the omega Lord also completely ignored his husband's warnings, running forward to meet his girls in the middle. He caught them both with ease, lifting them off their feet to twirl them mid air. "My sweetest girls!" he cried, as they giggled hysterically.
When the Starks approached them, the little Lord of the North ran toward his Isä faster than either of his sisters, throwing himself into his arms. His Isä pulled him close, peppering his face with kisses. The tiny Lady burst into loud, overwhelming tears the moment she saw her parents—as if she remembered that she actually had parents—her father immediately took her from Poppy's arms, cradling her against his chest and kissing her little cheeks to calm her down.
But the oldest of the siblings stayed firmly beside Poppy, half-hiding behind the fabric of her skirt.
Her parents noticed her hesitation immediately. "Come here, sweet girl. I have missed you so much," her Isä called out softly, holding out a hand. The little girl hesitated, gripping Poppy's skirt tighter, until her father stepped forward, his expression softening as he called for her to come give him a hug. That was all it took. The little girl broke down sobbing, running forward and launching herself into her father's powerful embrace. He held her tight, whispering gentle reassurances into her red hair.
As the families began to settle, the parents politely asked if anything major had happened while they were away. Poppy, Magda, and the other maids offered reassured smiles, bowing their heads. "Nothing big happened, my Lords," Poppy answered smoothly. "Just tired children having a tantrum now and then. Most of the time they are exceptionally good kids, and they get along very well with each other."
The noble families began walking past the servants to head towards their assigned guest chambers to rest, the courtyard grew quieter. But as the Targaryens passed by, Poppy overheard the little Princess lean in and whisper heavily into her alpha father’s ear.
"I no want the baby anymowe," the Princess muttered, her bottom lip jutting out.
Her father slowed his pace, asking her gently, "Why is that, little one?"
The Princess looked at the Lady of the North for a brief moment, then back at her father with wide, tragic blue eyes. "Cause she is bad! she will take you and Muña away fwom me!"