BLACK SHADOWS [HOTD]

6. hidden traps

year 112 ac

Rhaelena was sick.

Sick and tired. Fed up with bitter, nasty pills being shoved down her throat for years and made swallow.

Ever since she was old enough to walk on her own, she was tied with the ropes of duty. Every movement of hers to try and free herself of their grip would cause the ropes to dig into her delicate skin, making her suffer and bleed till she had no choice but to give up.

A pretty royal puppet, all for the show. Rhaelena was no more than that to anyone who would visit the Red Keep. She was meticulously told to do the very same thing to anyone who would approach her.

"Slightly bow your head, not too low to create the illusion of obedience, yet not too high to seem arrogant. Say "It is an honor to meet you, my lord, or my lady. Welcome to the Red Keep." Then smile."

Bow, speak, smile.

Bow, speak, smile.

Bow, speak, smile.

When she was first taught that, she had very little choice in the matter. As any child would, Rhaelena would comply with any orders of her sire. The smiles of approval painted across the faces of the noble guests were the woods for the fire of her self-esteem, which inevitably caused her to start enjoying it at some point. The young princess took great pleasure in running around the hall and greeting everyone with this perfected grin, the lavish skirts of her silk dresses swaying left and right as she did so.

When Rhaelena was very little, she loved breaking her fast with the sweet bread and berries. The flavor would linger on her tongue for hours, making her mouth water, and her being - crave more. Queen Aemma, having noticed that, ordered the princess to be served the bread and berries every single morning. The girl woke up to it for months, yet the pleasure only lasted for that long. Soon her stomach would twist at a single sight of it, and she would move the platter away with visible disgust across her face, asking Nylla to fetch something else.

Why would we mention such an insignificant thing, you would ask? The same happened with her royal duty.

Rhaelena had learned to notice fake smiles early enough. And, to her disappointment, every single one of them, except for, mayheps, her parents, and Nyra, was indeed such. Barely had the realization reflected in her actions, the princess started noticing how everyone was not the same anymore. Even her dearest mother, the epitome of various virtues, was now contradicting herself.

"You must always stay true and honest, my sweeting," she would say during one dinner, yet during another would quietly remark: "You could've been slightly more polite to Lord Redwyne earlier today. At times expressing respect is more important than feeling it."

And the girl would listen. The once genuine smile would shift to a fake one, akin to all the others, and Rhaelena would swallow her pride as if it were a dagger - as it went down her throat, it would slash her insides, making her silently scream in pain. Nevertheless, she would keep doing it. For the sake of her mother. For the sake of the peace in her soul.

And now Mother was dead. And so was the sense of duty. It faded, like a neglected flower. Its roots had rotted, the leaves shriveled, and the blossoms turned black.

Indeed, running away seemed foolish. Only cowards ran from the battlefield. Yet, admitting her cowardliness and escaping made more sense to Rhaelena at the time, for she couldn't stand her father and those fake sympathetic smiles. Even at her mother's funeral, no one seemed to genuinely grieve for her. Most of them merely pondered on the aftermath, and what the death of the Queen and the heir meant for the realm.