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𓃥 PROLOGUE, LABOUR
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Year 115 Red Keep, Kings Landing
The castle was quiet as night fell, a stark contrast to the lively chaos of Flea-bottom's rundown streets. Evalyn found herself unaccustomed to this stillness, left alone to grapple with her thoughts amidst the constant scrutiny from all corners as she navigated through her new life. She was aware of her status as an outsider— unfamiliar with the intricacies of courtly etiquette and the established hierarchy of the monarchy. Yet, despite feeling like a square peg in a round hole, she knew she had no choice but to adapt. Abandoning her post would be an affront she couldn't afford.
There's nothing out there for you anymore, Evalyn reminded herself sternly. You have no choice but to stay.
And so she did, despite the loneliness that consumed her, she immersed herself in the bustling rhythm of maid life. In her routine, she kept to herself and only spoke when spoken to. She preferred to observe, to listen to those around her and their conversations while walking about the halls and attending to her duties. They mostly consisted of gossip about either the disapproval or wariness towards the King's chosen heir. What Evalyn could gather from the discussions was that even if the young girl was the greatest leader to ever exist, she was still a woman, and people, or rather men couldn't seem to accept that.
There was an undercurrent of misogyny that tainted their words as they spoke with displeasure. They believed that women's purpose was being wives or maids and carrying as many children as necessary until a son was born to inherit what their father had left behind after their death.
Evalyn was not born into a wealthy family and she was not a son so despite her personal feelings about the way things should be— she was forced to serve on her hands and knees. It was the only way she could survive in this world ruled by men and their egos because, in a perfect world, she would not have been assigned to Daemon Targaryen of all people.
