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THESUN hung high in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the gardens of the Red Keep. Flowers bloomed in vibrant colors, their petals dancing lightly in the gentle breeze. Eleanor Targaryen strolled through the garden paths, her heart heavy yet hopeful. The weight of the past few days lingered, but she was determined to mend the rift between herself and her brother, Daemon.
The previous week had been tumultuous. After a spirited argument that escalated into a physical altercation at the ball, Eleanor had spent days in a bitter silence, keeping her distance from Daemon. He had lashed out, acting on impulse after a confrontation with Ser Joffrey, and while Eleanor understood his protective instincts, the aftermath had left her feeling wounded. She missed their playful banter, the comfort of their shared moments, and the deep bond they had always had.
Today, she'd decided it was time to address the lingering tension between them. They had agreed to meet in the gardens, a place filled with memories of laughter and shared secrets. A quaint wooden bench nestled under a blooming cherry blossom tree would be their refuge for the day. She had brought along a couple of books, hoping that the simplicity of reading would allow them to reconnect in a way that felt safe and unforced.
As she settled on the bench, Eleanor opened the first book, the smell of old parchment and ink wafting around her like a comforting embrace. The garden was alive with the sounds of birds chirping and the rustling leaves, but her thoughts were only on Daemon and the chance to heal the rift that had formed between them.
A few moments later, Daemon appeared, his usual swagger tempered by an unexpected vulnerability. He wore a simple tunic, his hair flowing loosely around his shoulders. His violet eyes searched the garden until they found her. A mixture of relief and apprehension washed over Eleanor as he approached.
"Hello," he said softly, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"Hello," she replied, her heart fluttering with a blend of anxiety and affection.
Daemon sat down beside her, the space between them heavy with unspoken words. He looked at her, and for a moment, the world faded away. It was just them, like it had always been. "I'm glad you came," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Me too," Eleanor said, trying to match his sincerity. "I've missed this."
"Me too," he echoed, and for a moment, it felt like they were treading the waters of reconciliation. "I brought a book as well." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a tome bound in dark leather, the corners worn from use. "Thought we could share stories today."
Eleanor smiled, her heart lightening. "That sounds perfect."
They settled into a comfortable rhythm, reading passages aloud, sharing laughter over the stories that unfolded within the pages. Time slipped away as they lost themselves in the written word. Each moment of silence was filled with the beauty of companionship, and Eleanor felt the shadows of their conflict begin to lift.
