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THE ENTIRE castle was alive with an infectious energy, the kind that made it impossible to stand still. The Festival of the Mother had transformed the Red Keep overnight. Bright silken banners in shades of gold and crimson fluttered from the high towers, and garlands of fresh flowers adorned every doorway. The smell of roasting meats and freshly baked bread mixed with the sweet perfume of incense burned in honor of the Mother, filling the air with warmth and celebration.
Eleanor wandered through the crowded courtyard, watching as servants and courtiers rushed about, preparing for the day's festivities. Laughter and excited chatter echoed off the stone walls, creating a symphony of life and joy. Children ran past her, their small hands clutching flower crowns and brightly colored ribbons, their faces flushed with happiness. Even the stern guards standing at their posts seemed lighter today, their usual stoicism softened by the holiday.
Despite the cheer around her, Eleanor couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The Festival of the Mother was meant to be a celebration of life, of new beginnings, of nurturing bonds. But for her, those sentiments always felt distant, overshadowed by the weight of her family's legacy and the ever-looming sense of duty that came with being a Targaryen.
She stopped near a group of women placing offerings at the feet of a large statue of the Mother, their voices murmuring prayers for healthy children and prosperous families. The sight stirred something deep inside her, but before she could lose herself in her thoughts, a familiar voice broke through the noise.
"You're brooding again."
Eleanor turned to see Daemon approaching, his characteristic smirk already in place. He was dressed casually, in a dark tunic and breeches, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he walked toward her. Even without the weight of his armor, he moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly who he was—and more importantly, who others thought he was.
"I'm not brooding," Eleanor replied with a sigh, her lips curving slightly. "I'm... thinking."
Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, it certainly looks like brooding from where I'm standing."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Reflect on the importance of today?"
Daemon glanced around at the bustling courtyard, where noblewomen twirled in their gowns and children laughed without care. "Everyone else seems to be doing just fine without all that reflection." His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a challenge, as if daring her to stop taking everything so seriously.
Eleanor crossed her arms, watching the joy unfold around them. "It's hard to forget everything that looms over us, even for a day."
Daemon stepped closer, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "Who says we can't take a day off from all of that?"
