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Poppy slipped into the office in Storm’s End, the one that had once belonged to her father, and shut the door behind her, cautious to avoid a slam.
Renly was asleep, the sky still darkened with night, the only illumination being the few stars that dared peak out through the clouds.
She placed her candle down on the desk, highlighting the half written letter, the only item sat on the wooden surface.
The feathers of the quill felt coarse against her fingers as she began to write, the scratching of ink on parchment seemingly as loud as the dawn chorus.
By the time the sun had risen, the letter was finished, ready to be sent to Dragonstone, to the brother who should be Lord of Storms End. Renly would be awake, by now. Poppy spun the ring around her finger, the one she couldn’t take off, the one that marked her as a future Lannister, not a Baratheon.
She took her seal, and marked a stag upon the letter, the symbol that would let Stannis know where the letter came from.
Poppy tilted her head to one side, watching the falcons swoop beyond the window she claimed as her own. Maybe Renly would like to write a letter for Stannis. His education was getting back on track, after- she’d have to ask him.
She should send Robert a letter. Or maybe that Stark, the one who broke the siege. Humming, Poppy pulled some parchment from beneath the desk, and stared down at it, as if the page contained a concealed answer.
Storm’s End felt too busy, in the day. Everyone had a life to them, one that felt foreign.
She still expected to see the feast outside the window. Sometimes, if she squinted, she still could. Waiting for her. Taunting her.
Inhaling deeply, Poppy squeezed past the desk, staring out beyond the walls of her home, the walls that held her without choice. She stared outside, past the birds and the rising sun, past the glowing orange of the horizon, and into the visions. She could see piles of food, food she wanted nothing more than to run out and grab. Poppy could feel Stannis’ hand on her arm, holding her, stopping her flight. She shivered, taking a step back, spotting the cruel face of Mace Tyrell at his celebrations.
Taking her letter, Poppy left the office, letting the door slam behind her, and entering the cacophony of life within Storm’s End. A sound that she remembered from her youth, but that still felt at odds with her very existence.
She’d visit Renly, later.
Maybe they’d let her go to Dragonstone? Poppy scoffed under her breath. As if. The letter would have to do. Maybe there would be another wedding. Stannis would be there, at least.