Brynden Rivers stood at the edge of the crowded hall, his dark, brooding figure a stark contrast to the vibrant celebrations around him His eyes were fixed on the far side of the room, where Shira stood, laughing softly with the courtiers The sight of her stirred something deep within him, a reminder of the love he had once known but could never fully claim His heart ached for what had been denied to him, a choice that had been ripped away when his father forced him into a marriage he neither wanted nor welcomed.

Beside him was his wife—the young, reckless daughter of the Lannisters, spoiled and dripping in gold and jewels She was everything he was not Where Brynden valued restraint and purpose, she delighted in extravagance and pleasure Throughout the evening, she watched him closely.

As the party wound down and the courtiers began to leave, the atmosphere grew quieter Brynden’s wife remained by his side, her jealousy still festering When they were finally alone, the silence between them felt heavier than ever.

“You were with her,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to steady herself.

Brynden barely acknowledged her, his mind still elsewhere “We spoke,” he replied coolly, his tone dismissive.

Her frustration grew “I saw the way you looked at her,” she pressed, her voice rising “You still care for her, don’t you? While you ignore me, your own wife..well You always care about that bitch.”

That was when something inside Brynden snapped Her words echoed in his mind, igniting a fury he could no longer contain Without thinking, he turned to her, his hand flying out in a swift motion The sound of the slap reverberated through the room, a sharp crack that broke the silence between them.

She staggered back, stunned, her hand instinctively flying to her cheek where the sting of his strike lingered The pain in her chest was greater than the pain on her skin Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, her pride warring with her vulnerability.