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ELEANOR'S DAYS had become a tapestry woven from threads of tension and emotion since the confrontation between Daemon and Ser Joffrey at the ball. The once vibrant atmosphere of the castle had shifted, replaced by hushed whispers and curious glances that made her acutely aware of the gossip swirling around her. The laughter that had filled the halls was now muted, a constant reminder of the chaos that had erupted during what was supposed to be a joyous celebration.
In the aftermath of the incident, Eleanor found herself deliberately avoiding Daemon. Each time she passed him in the corridors or caught a glimpse of his familiar figure in the courtyard, a pang of anger coursed through her. The hurt that had accompanied his refusal to confide in her was still fresh, and she couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that lingered like a shadow over their bond.
Instead of confronting those feelings, Eleanor turned her attention to Ser Joffrey. Since the incident, he had been unexpectedly attentive, seeking her out in the gardens and offering her sweet pastries and charming banter. His presence became a welcome distraction, and he seemed to know just how to lift her spirits.
"Lady Eleanor," he called one sunny afternoon as they strolled through the gardens, the vibrant colors of blooming flowers painting a picturesque backdrop. "You've been a bit of a mystery lately. Have I offended you in some way?"
Eleanor paused, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. "Offended? Not at all," she replied, a playful smile creeping onto her lips. "I simply have been... occupied with other matters."
Joffrey raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident. "I see. Perhaps I should find a way to win back your attention. A knight's duty, after all, is to ensure the princess is never bored."
Eleanor chuckled, a lightness in her chest that hadn't been there in days. "You certainly have a flair for dramatics, Ser Joffrey."
"I've been told," he said, leaning closer as they walked. "But I think it adds to my charm. Wouldn't you agree?"
As the days turned into a routine, Eleanor found herself growing more comfortable in Joffrey's company. They explored the gardens, rode through the countryside, and shared stories that made her laugh until her sides ached. The moments spent together felt liberating, a refreshing escape from the weight of her responsibilities and the tension at home.
One afternoon, while they rested by a small brook, Joffrey picked up a handful of pebbles and began tossing them into the water, creating ripples that danced across the surface. "What do you think of all this?" he asked casually, glancing at her. "The whispers, the tension between you and the prince?"
Eleanor hesitated, the question striking a nerve. "It's complicated," she admitted, biting her lip. "Daemon and I have had our... differences lately."
"Is that what you call it?" he asked with a smirk, his expression teasing yet curious. "Because I saw that look you gave him at the ball. There's something there—something you can't ignore, no matter how much you try."
