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...
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When Siveen finally entered her chamber late that night, after a lengthy walk to clear her mind following her confrontation with Daemon – or rather, just pacing up and down the Red Keep – she found herself accosted by several nobles from Volantis who had apparently heard of her position on the Small Council. Their chatter provided a small distraction from her fear of possibly ending up on the gallows by morning, but when she finally stepped into her candle-lit room, prepared by one of the maids, she was just relieved to collapse into bed, though she doubted she'd get any sleep that night.
She removed the hairpin holding her upper hair back, letting the strands fall into her face before tossing the bothersome accessory onto the small table in the center of the room.
But then something caught her eye – something that didn't belong. A large cloth bag hung from one of the chairs, clearly out of place in her quarters. Siveen glanced around her chamber, looking for anything else amiss, before hesitantly poking the sack with a fingertip and then sniffing it to rule out anything alive or once living. It smelled of nothing but plain fabric. What was this? Who would leave such a thing in her room, and why?
Curious as always, she untied the strings, flipped the bag over, and let its contents spill onto the floor. Frowning, she knelt down and saw that it was clothing. No, it was a complete outfit – shoes, pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a hat.
»What?« she whispered in confusion, picking up the shirt and smelling it. It smelled like... Daemon? There was no mistaking it, the scent was undeniably his, clinging to the clearly old garments that were far too large for her. These were his clothes. But why? She reached into the sack again and pulled out a piece of paper stuck in one of the corners. She unrolled it and realized it was a letter written in High-Valyrian.
Put this on and hide your hair
Behind the bookshelf next to your bed, there's a secret passage through the crypt
I'll show you the city as it really is
I'm waiting for you
Wide-eyed, Siveen stared at the note. It had to be Daemon's, even without his signature, and despite the incredibly neat handwriting that didn't match his character at all.
She quickly sprang to her feet and hurried to the bookshelf, struggling in vain to move it aside. When that didn't work, she pulled out most of the books until the shelf was light enough to shift. With a firm push against the stone wall behind it, she found it yielded surprisingly easily. The wall gave way more smoothly than she had expected, and she nearly stumbled forward into the void. Cold air rushed up the long, dark stairwell and hit her face, making her stagger back in shock. Had this always been here? Right next to her bed? A shiver ran down her spine – if Daemon knew about this passage, then others might as well, and they could have entered her chamber at any time.
