BLACK SHADOWS [HOTD]

8. masquerade

year 112 ac

At last, Rhaelena saw no fake smiles anymore.

Upon her return to the Red Keep, which hadn't been long, she noticed not a single grinning face. Everyone's gaze was filled with certain misery at times, but the majority of them were plain judgemental.

The glares they were giving her. Nobody saw a young woman, who had lost the only person genuinely caring about her - her mother. Nobody saw a child, who didn't know what was right and wrong anymore. Nobody saw a victim trying to run from invisible threats.

All they saw was another spoiled pampered palace ass, who could throw tantrums to her liking with no real consequences, fly around the kingdom on her dragon's back and vent about how hard her life was, while common folk perished of hunger and poverty, Rhaelena knew.

She read their expressions, like open books.

Their lips would melt into "Welcome back, Princess," while their minds went "Ignorant twat."

Their eyes, drained of any sympathy, were stalking her, like hungry animals at the sight of the bait.

She should've stayed in the Eyrie for much longer, Rhaelena thought to herself while pacing down the halls of Red Keep. The voices of people echoed in her head, yet the corridors felt empty. Nothing looked the same anymore.

The familiar tiling of the floor seemed a different shade than before, the trees somehow looked less emerald green, the wind felt... Colder.

Nylla was walking silently behind her, not interacting with the Princess unless it was Rhaelena herself who initiated the conversation. However - a tremendous difference from what it was like before the Targaryen girl's escapade - the Corbray girl never left her side. She was ordered to do that, the princess didn't take much time figuring it out. From that point on she would never be left alone. Her privacy would turn non-existent, just like the peace inside her heart. They would twist and turn her heart inside out, stick their nasty fingers into her gyruses to make sure she hid no more secrets, no more deceptive plans, no more defiance. They would tie her to her bed if they could, Rhaelena found herself thinking, for it would be quite convenient.

The golden-haired girl wouldn't have left her chambers at all, surrendering to the willing confinement within dark, lifeless walls, if it wasn't for the order of the King to see her upon her return. Rhaelena's legs were taking her to her father's quarters, while her soul was banging on the insides of her body with heavy, bleeding fists, pleading to let it go and escape the impending preachings.

The closer the princess was taken to King Viserys's chambers, the slower she walked. Was that an attempt to postpone the conversation for as long as she could? Mayheps.

The demons of her heart were engaged in ravenous battle. One side plunged into the war because of its belief that her father was not worth her forgiveness. That no matter what he did or said, her mother would not be brought back. The other one insisted on mercy. Yet, all the silent bloodshed seemed to be leading to a compromisable conclusion, for Rhaelena still didn't know what her first words at the sight of her father would be.

As it turned out, she would have more than enough time to think about it.

Rhaelena slowly approached the door, gesturing for Nylla Corbray to remain in the corridor, yet the guards were not at all in the rush to open the heavy wooden doors before the Princess.

"The King is still engaged in the conversation with the Hand, Princess. We were ordered not to let anyone in until they are finished," the man in silver armor muttered, separating the young woman and the entrance to the King's chambers with his presence.