That face, half-ruined by greyscale, looked so fragile and pitiful at this moment.
She remembered when Shireen was little, back when she was still healthy and hadn't contracted greyscale. Although Stannis wasn't particularly happy because she was a daughter, he would occasionally hold her, stroking her head with his rough, large hands to show his affection.
Later, Shireen caught greyscale and nearly died. The maesters all said she couldn't be saved, but Stannis never spoke of giving up; instead, he used every possible means and method until he finally controlled her condition and pulled her back from the brink of death.
But from then on, Shireen's face was ruined, and Stannis rarely had time to spend with her. However, Selyse knew that in his heart, he still loved this daughter; he just didn't know how to express it.
But now, he was dead, killed by Targaryen Dragonfire.
Selyse stood up, walked to the window, pushed it open, and gazed at the distant sea. The bright moonlight spilled across the surface, its shimmering appearance feeling quite beautiful. But she knew that her husband was buried within this very ocean.
She didn't know that Stannis's remains were completely gone; she only thought he had been burned to death by Dragonfire and sunk to the bottom of the sea. After all, besides the two gods of Ice and Fire, no one in this world had ever heard of an existence like Ghidorah.
Soon, the night wind rushed in, carrying the saltiness of the seawater, clearing her head a little. In the direction of the distant waters, a few points of fire were faintly visible—the Targaryen patrol fleet.
Targaryen... this reminded her of what Viserys had said: 'When the war is over, you will receive a fair trial.'
Yes, a trial. What trial would she have? As the wife of a traitor to the Targaryen dynasty, would she be executed, or sent to the Silent Sisters to spend the rest of her life in silence and prayer?
Then what about Shireen? Because half her face was ruined by greyscale, she had been quiet and introverted since childhood, never bothering anyone. What would happen to her? If she were locked in a Motherhouse, how could she endure it?
Selyse didn't dare think any further. She only knew one thing now: she could not let Shireen suffer for the rest of her life. But as a prisoner under house arrest, what could she do? She walked back to the bed and sat down, gently stroking Shireen's head.
As she pondered this question, time slipped away minute by minute.
When the light of dawn fell upon her, she finally snapped out of it. But she had only thought of a very selfish and cruel method, and she didn't know if it was right for Shireen.
Inadvertently, the hand she used to stroke Shireen pressed down a bit harder. But Shireen only stirred in her sleep, mumbled something, and continued to sleep.
"I'm sorry, Shireen," Selyse whispered, lowering her head toward her. "I'm sorry."
Then she leaned down and pressed a kiss onto her daughter's forehead.
When Shireen finally woke up, Selyse dressed her in her favorite blue dress and combed her hair.
Shireen was a bit confused but still very happy, and couldn't help asking, "Mother, are we going somewhere?"
Selyse knelt down, cupped her face, and said seriously, "Shireen, do you miss your father?"
Shireen nodded and said, "Yes, I haven't seen him for a long time." She thought her mother was asking because Maester Cressen had mentioned her father yesterday.
"Then let's go see him together, alright?" Selyse forced herself not to cry.
Hearing this, Shireen's eyes lit up. "Really? But Maester Cressen said Father was taken away by the The Stranger. Are we going to find them?"
A noble lady of her age had already been exposed to the Faith of the Seven and knew of the The Stranger, but she couldn't understand its meaning at all. The The Stranger represented the god of death, and being taken by the The Stranger meant death, but she still couldn't grasp what death meant.
Selyse finally couldn't hold back; she smiled, but that smile was full of bitterness. "Really."
She picked Shireen up and walked to the window. Outside, the sunlight spilled across the sea, shimmering in the same way, but the feeling was completely different from the moonlight last night; it looked full of vigor.
"Shireen, Mother has failed you in many ways in this life," she said softly. "But from now on, that will never happen again."
Shireen hugged her neck and spoke with some confusion, "Mother?"
Selyse didn't explain. She took one last look at this world, then holding Shireen, she leapt out of the window.
She only felt the wind whistling in her ears, and then the scent of seawater rushed at her face.
"Shireen, forgive me, I love you." These were her final words, but Shireen was already terrified by this act and simply clung to her neck instinctively.
The next second, a dull splash sounded as the icy seawater swallowed them. Then, a wave rolled in, gently lapping against the rocks on the shore, washing all traces away.
When the guards outside finally realized something was wrong, the room was already empty. The window was open, and sunlight streamed in, illuminating the empty bed.
They ran to the window and looked down, only to see the dark seawater and bursts of white foam splashing in the sunlight.
No one knew where the waves had washed the bodies of Selyse and Shireen, and perhaps no one ever would.
In the end, they only found a letter left by Selyse on the dressing table.
The letter was short, only a few sentences:
"Stannis is dead, and we have nothing left to linger for. I know we should face trial, but I fear we would be locked in a Motherhouse and become a laughingstock for everyone. I don't want Shireen to live that kind of life; she is a daughter of Baratheon. Forgive me, His Majesty Viserys, you promised not to harm us, but this is the path we chose for ourselves. Please do not blame the others in the castle; they were only following orders."
When the news reached Viserys's ears, he was eating breakfast.
He fell silent for a moment and then put down his utensils.
"Give them a proper burial," he said. "Together with Stannis. Erect a monument on the hillside behind the castle and write their names." At least the Baratheons possessed Targaryen blood.
The attendant took the order and withdrew.
Rhaenys was a bit saddened to hear the news; she had already felt some pity for Shireen's plight. She sat directly on Viserys's lap, hooked her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, "Brother, why did they have to die?"
"Rhaenys, do you know?" Viserys said, gently wrapping his arms around Rhaenys's waist. "Sometimes, death is easier than living. This was the path they chose for themselves, and I respect their choice."
Rhaenys leaned closer, looking up slightly in his arms, her purple eyes filled with complex emotions.
She hesitated before asking, "Then would you ever actively choose death?"
Viserys looked down at her, a look of deep tenderness in those purple eyes.
"Of course I wouldn't," he said. "I have you and Dany, and Ashara and the others to accompany me. I still have many things I want to do; why would I choose death?"
After hearing this, Rhaenys offered her soft, fragrant lips. As the time to take King's Landing drew nearer, she became increasingly proactive.
It wasn't until Rhaenys felt she was about to suffocate that she reluctantly pulled away.
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