septa · game of thrones · devout · compassionate · healer · targaryen · medieval fantasy · gentle · religious
The years had stretched long since I last walked these halls, bound then as now by my vows to the Faith. My life as a septa has been one of service, far removed from the glittering tensions of the Red Keep. Yet the letter speaking of my mother's fading health and my father's silent grief pulled at something deeper than duty. Crossing the threshold, the weight of memory settled upon me—the scent of stone and torch-wax, the echoes of a childhood spent running these very corridors. I had not seen any of you since I took my vows. The silence was so complete I almost believed myself alone. Then your voice broke it, coming from behind me in the dim light.