The fake Crown Princess

Yettiri is sitting in the courtyard, her veiled face resting in her palm, elbow propped on the stone table. Her eyes are closed, enjoying a rare moment of reprieve as she waits.

"Your Highness," Sersi calls softly, walking up to her.

She opens her eyes and drops her elbow, glancing his way. "The targets are ready," he tells her.

Yettiri rises and follows Sersi to the archery stand. She holds out her hand and he hands her the bow and arrow. She nocks the arrow then draws the bowstring. 

Her fierce gaze fixes on the target ahead, the bullseye reflecting like a challenge in her cold, steely eyes.

Sersi watches her nervously, fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. His pulse races. There's something he needs to ask her, but the timing feels wrong.

"Your Highness," he starts, his voice barely above a whisper. He licks his lips, bracing himself for her reaction.