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ROSEVA had felt like it was impossible to breathe. Her lungs compressed against her chest — suffocating her. She felt like a monster, to Rhaenyra, to the Seven Kingdoms and to herself.
Visery's took the burden of telling the young Princess but it didn't stop her cries from entering Roseva's room as even herself laid on her bed in tears.
Rhaenyra felt cold and so did Roseva — the child had not lived, the son had not lived and that made the lady feel even worse. She could have stopped it. She should have stopped it. She didn't know why she didn't.
A light knock on her door went unnoticed to her as tears continued to slip down her cheeks, flooding her white silk pillow.
Daemon stepped through the door, eyeing the room for a moment — the candles, the roses that scented the room, his typical rose — before his eyes landed on her.
He couldn't lie, he didn't care much about the Queen's death, nor his nephews, he felt bad — yes — but he wasn't sad. He felt sad for Roseva, for his brother and niece. He'd always feel sad for Roseva — he wanted to take her sadness away but he didn't know how.
His heavy footsteps made him cringe as he had tried to be quiet but he immediately straightened when she turned quickly to face who had entered her room.
"Daemon!", she hastily wiped her tears and sat up and he tightly smiled at her.
"Rose", he stated like he worshipping it before her. His violet eyes pierced into her but she was too upset to do anything about it.
Roseva got out of her bed and shuffled towards her collection of roses, ever since she had arrived Daemon knew how much roses calmed her — when he heard the news of the Queens passing he ventured to the gardens.
"I haven't got time for your nonsense this evening, Daemon", Roseva's sniffle pulled him from his thoughts of the gardens and remembered why he had come to her chambers.
