For a century, the Targaryens held sway over the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros: from the arid deserts of Dorne to the icy expanses of the North, from the verdant plains of the Reach to the rugged coasts of the Stormlands. Yet, amidst the splendor of th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Siveen hastily threw a thin cloak over her shoulders as she reached her brother, who was limping ahead. Even after a week of recovery, he was still not fully healed and had been temporarily relieved from Princess Rhaenyra's service, which had resulted in him being a nuisance to Siveen ever since. To make matters worse, their father was now also in the city. On the same day the city was already abuzz with excitement over the queen giving birth to her second son, whom they named Aemond.
»What does Father want here?« she asked as they stepped out of the Red Keep.
"Apparently, it's about Mother,« Henryk replied, still leaning on a wooden crutch due to a gash directly behind his knee.
»Mother?« Siveen echoed. It was the first time in months they would see their father, and if he had come to King's Landing specifically for this, it could not be good news. "Why didn't he request an audience with the king to see us?« she asked, since Henryk had not answered her previous question.
They strolled slowly down a dark alley. Salladhor Maegyr, the head of the richest and most powerful family in Volantis, who had controlled trade for generations, would surely be summoned to the king rather than lurking in some grimy, dirty tavern in King's Landing. Something was amiss.
»I don't know, Siv,« Henryk panted, already worn out from walking. "Lord Strong handed me a letter with the seal of Volantis, which he claimed he received from one of our men.«
Siveen's breath caught. »Larys or Lyonel?« she exclaimed in astonishment
»Larys,« he said, nodding. Why would Larys Strong receive a letter from someone in Volantis? As long as she had known him, she knew he was not to be trusted as he seemed and was solely focused on his own ambitions. He did nothing for others unless it benefited himself, and he never meddled in matters that did not concern him.
»This smells like a trap,« Siveen muttered, to which Henryk didn't respond as they blended into the crowd under the cover of night. They were no longer protected by the Red Keep, but in the city where the disparity between the rich and the poor couldn't be more stark.
Siveen tried to hide behind her long black hair and the elaborate dress she wore, which seemed utterly out of place among the beggars. Greedy eyes stared at her from all directions, and the stench of urine and worse filled her nostrils as they made their way through the streets.
»Where is this fucking tavern?« she cursed softly, ensuring only her brother could hear. Suddenly, Siveen stepped into something sticky and tried to wipe it off on the rough, cobbled street. She shuddered in disgust. She wasn't particularly squeamish, but she just wanted to wear something else that would not only prevent her from being recognized but also avoid the spread of rumors in the Red Keep the next day. Besides she didn't want to explain why she returned with soiled clothes.
»Just up ahead,« Henryk nodded, and at the end of the alley, Siveen saw the many candles illuminating the street. Thank the gods, she thought, ready to hurry to escape the stares, when suddenly two men emerged from a corner. One of them staggered more than the other, both fairly young, perhaps in their mid-thirties. Siveen grabbed her brother's arm, pulling him slightly towards her, thinking the men just wanted to pass by. She made space for them, but no matter where she moved, the men moved as well. A sense of unease settled in, and as she looked around, she saw there were not many people nearby to run to if needed. Not even guards were in sight, just no one.
