Kaelyn sat at the dais during the executions. She was Queen, it was expected. Duty. Duty was sacred. She sat impassively, looking without seeing as the blood poured out and the crowd groaned and cheered. She watched without it sinking into her, or it would stain her soul she knew already. These were the men who had slain the princess, they had committed an atrocity on her body, had butchered her like an animal. These men had threatened her husband and nephew, had threatened her daughters. She should watch them die with satisfaction. And yet it felt hollow.
When the last head fell, when it was raised to the roaring blood-hungry crowd, Kaelyn knew her part was finished. She rose then and attended by the ladies of the court she made her way from the dais. But something was not right. The crowd watched her now, not with unease or even distrust as had been the wont but with a near un-veiled hostility. She shook her head trying to clear it of the silliness. Nerves, only nerves. She raised the scented handkerchief to her nose and looked away. Lady Mormont was speaking and Kaelyn tried to listen, but all she seemed to hear was some strange, unspoken whisper... Murderess, the crowd hissed. Witch-wife. Icebitch. Stoneheart.
She grasped at Lady Mormont's hand. "Th-the keep. Let's away. I-I feel... unwell..." Nausea and the faint beginning of panic stirred her movements. Quickly. Away from the hungry crowd, away from the stares... For the first time she looked toward the walls of the Red Keep as safety.