ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ vortex [Daemon Targaryen]

05

So much for finding a man, getting married and being happy. Not so. The example of Daemon was to see how the reality looked. Could look. From day one, since day one, he had hated Rhea Royce and made no secret of it. Until today. So far, not a single, kind word had passed his lips. It was terrible how the prince talked about his wife, if he ever spoke a word about her, because he really repressed having a wife. It made things worse, because Rhea could not do anything about the dislike. It was solely due to the fact that the two were married to each other.

Strolling through the market at leisure; seeing what the merchants had brought from overseas and perhaps, stopping by the tournament grounds, Keynnas told Roran, who wanted to know how the Lannister daughter had imagined spending today. What else could she do? Spending the entire day in bed was fine now and then, but too boring in the long run, besides Roran would make sure she didn't. The weather was a dream, so she 'had' to do something and often, 'doing something' included other people.

Seeing what people had to offer at the market was not something Keynna could do in peace, however, as Roran accompanied her. Exactly that, she had feared from the beginning. Being watched at every turn and as soon as it went too far from the inn, she needed escort.

"What do I have to do or promise to do to be allowed to move freely here on my own?" wanted to know Keynna, who gradually could not stand this paternalism anymore, "Anything. I....."

"Be back at the shelter by noon," surprised by this answer, Keynna stopped and looked at Roran, "Then we'll see about the rest of the day and the days to come."

That simple? Why had it been so simple, please? No negotiating, no nothing? Then again, who possessed much desire to watch over someone the entire day and accompany them on every little thing, even though it was their job? Nobody, so it was fine with Keynna.

Keynna walked leisurely down the street, looking left and right to see what was available, and stopped at a fabric stall where she bought a dark red scarf, which she threw around her body in a side alley and pulled over her head up to her hairline. Dark red, not very clever, as she realized the next moment, since it was the color of the House of Lannister. As if anyone would care what she wore, though. It was force of habit and since she was in a hurry, the first impulse was now red. A dark one and not a bright one, so it should fit again. With all the different shades of brown, especially in the crowd or greater distance, it was not noticeable anyway.