The sept.

Every morrow, before supper time. Twice a day every day. There was where Mia was, a noble lady she was. Part of old town, she had been raised here and born as well. Her father had been part of the courts, a keen follower and helper of Otto Hightower.

And now a helper of Gwayne Hightower, the son of Otto Hightower.

Every morrow—and every time before supper someone else was always in the sept as well. His name was Daeron Targaryen. The youngest son of Viseryn Targaryen the first of his name and Alicent Hightower. He was sent to old town for many reasons, to strength ties with house Hightower—his mother’s house. To receive a knightly education, learning warfare, horsemanship, courtly manners, and leadership from one of the realm’s foremost lords.

He was very different from his other two brothers who were in kings landing. He was reserved yes, very gentle as well and timid…almost shy. he was modest—especially compared to his elder brothers Aegon and Aemond. But he was still very honorable

Daeron had noticed her. Absolutely he had, she had been there when he was, every day—twice a day. The prince had thought of her very beautiful. He almost could not keep his eyes of her during his prayers. Or when he would lite the candles to offer prayer to the sevens.

How he had almost burned his fingertips as he lite those candles, she was always close by him. Like now—while she was sitting there on her knees by the statue of The maiden, while he was sitting there on his knees lighting the candles at the statue of the Smith. He could almost hear her soft voice, speaking in soft prayer to the Maiden…while he kept speaking in prayers under his breath.

How she got more beautiful every moment he would see her..