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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After spending an entire day holed up in her chamber, avoiding everyone, unable to eat a single bite or even drink a sip of water, Siveen finally mustered the courage to step out and face the world. She had responsibilities in King's Landing, duties she couldn't evade forever. Lyonel Strong had come to her door multiple times the previous day, and each time she dismissed him by claiming she wasn't feeling well. Even her brother had insisted on speaking with her urgently, but she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed.
Her initial anger towards Daemon had quickly morphed into shame by the time she returned to the Red Keep after the incident. Pure shame. The shame was so overwhelming that she even entertained the absurd notion that Daemon had bewitched her somehow—after all, if the Targaryens possessed dragons, surely they could wield such power as well. Of course, she knew deep down this wasn't true. She was the one responsible for what had happened, but she tried desperately to shift the blame to feel better, though it seldom worked.
She still couldn't comprehend why that foolish prince had vanished so abruptly, leaving her half-naked and exposed among those people. Just like that, without a word or action. She had fallen for his ruse, but she vowed it wouldn't happen again. She already knew that every time she saw him now in the Red Keep, she would punish him with her cold indifference and disdain.
But now was not the time to continue sulking in bed. It would definitely raise suspicion if she avoided everyone for another day. She smoothed out her silver dress and tied her dark hair back neatly, hoping to appear somewhat composed before letting out a deep sigh and stepping out of her chamber.
She needed to find her brother, who had insisted on speaking with her urgently. She fervently hoped it wasn't about what had transpired that night. She couldn't imagine why else he would be so insistent, but it would still be surprising if word had gotten out about the incident to her. Despite the relatively harmless nature of what had occurred, which still could have become much more intense, she feared the consequences. If anyone had seen and reported it to the King or the Hand of the King—Larys Strong would also suffice—she would already be on her way back to Volantis, facing the disappointment of her father and mother.
As she walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, she steeled herself for whatever conversation lay ahead, determined to maintain her composure. She wouldn't allow Daemon's actions to define her or her place in King's Landing. She had duties to fulfill and a reputation to uphold, and she intended to do just that, no matter the personal turmoil roiling inside her.
»Lady Siveen,« a gruff male voice called out behind her. She knew instantly it belonged to the Master of Whisperers. She stopped abruptly, took a deep breath, and turned to face Larys, who was seated on a bench with his cane, grinning at her through his greasy shoulder-length brown hair. »I missed your presence yesterday.«
»Spare me the false modesty, mylord,« Siveen replied. »I wasn't feeling very well.« His smirk widened as he glanced around, as if ensuring no other nobles within the Red Keep were eavesdropping.
