Ladies of the Iron Throne

Lyselle 2

"What are you doing here?"

Lyselle's heart stopped as she slowly drew her hand away from the splendid crimson of the big flower she had been touching. She had not meant to do any harm. She just wanted to touch, to feel this beauty that was so new. At night, before she felt into exhausted sleep, overburdened by the novelty of all around her, she sometimes thought that she was learning everything by touch, as if only touching could make it real.

She slowly turned around. "I wasn't going to pick it," she said defensively.

The newcomer raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you?" he asked.

Lyselle wondered whether she had seen him before. She might have. How was she supposed to remember all the faces she had encountered in those last three days? How did the others do it?

"I was not," she said again.

He resembled Aelinor and Maekar somewhat, although his hair was not almost white but silver-gold. His eyes were another shade of violet, though. Purple. Lyselle had come to quickly realize just how unusual this colour was. He towered over her hugely, tall and muscular. Lyselle thought that he didn't look much older than she was but she couldn't be sure. Still, finding another person her age who was so much taller than her felt uncomfortable. It was not until she left her chamber that she realized just how short she was. People already whispered about it. She didn't grow up because of the lack of sunlight, they said but when she asked them, they denied. She was certain they had said it, though, and she was confused. When she asked her mother, Alaena said that people often whispered things they wouldn't repeat aloud.

She had so much to learn.

"You are the imprisoned girl, aren't you?" the boy now asked.

Slowly, she nodded and a smile played about his mouth.

"What did you do to merit such a treatment?" he asked.

Lyselle looked down.

"Well?" he insisted. "If His Grace had you imprisoned, there must have been a reason."

Horrified, she felt tears brimming in her eyes. She didn't know how to reply. He was looking at her as if he was expecting answer – and she didn't have one. She couldn't look up and again see this smile she could not make sense of. Surely knowing that someone had been imprisoned was no cause for smiling?

"Yes," someone said from their left. "Because her lady mother told him that he was as stupid as his son would become one day."

They both looked at Aelinor who stared at the boy angrily while placing a protective hand over Lyselle's own. "Daemon, you fool," she said. "Can't you see you're upsetting her?"

Lyselle was taken aback at her friend's bravery. It would never occur to her to speak so to someone who was so… impressive.

He glared back – and then looked at Lyselle. His smile died. "I was merely jesting, Aelinor," he said. "Why did she…?"

"Well, she isn't someone who you can jest with," Aelinor snapped. "She needs more time. And less of what you think of as your wit."

His fair face turned red. "I didn't mean…"

"No," Aelinor said. "You never do. But you know what, Daemon? There are people who do take your jests seriously."

Done with him, she led Lyselle further along the flowerbeds. "Don't mind him," she said. "Daemon, he isn't a bad one but since he was given that sword, he started thinking he was a man and it was his duty to charm every girl around."

"He didn't charm me," Lyselle muttered. Now she just felt stupid for not realizing that he hadn't meant his words in a bad way. Would she ever learn to recognize what people meant? She didn't think she would ever master the art of answering with witty remarks of her own.

Aelinor laughed. "He didn't, did he? You know, you might be the first one…"

Lyselle stopped in front of a flowerbed with yellow flowers, like they had been kissed by the sun. Aelinor looked at her. "Do you want to pick some?" she asked and without waiting for answer, leaned over for the magnificent fluttering gold

Lyselle reached for her hand and stayed it. "Don't," she said. "They are so lovely."

Aelinor straightened without picking the flowers. Everything was still so new for her newfound friend – but then, Lyselle wasn't newfound, was she? Aelinor had the feeling that they had been friends since the moment their eyes first met on the two sides of the terrace. With time, Lyselle would come to realize that flowers were meant to be picked, and wilt, and die, and burst into bloom again. But now, she was still enchanted by everything you see.

"Come on," she said. "I want to show you…"

Her voice trailed off when she saw the retinue riding towards Aegon's Hill. Her face lit up. "My parents! My parents arrived!"

She tugged Lyselle by the hand. "Come on!" she cried out. "Let's go to meet them!"

Lyselle smiled and shook her head. The thought of meeting so many new people scared her a little, so she decided to postpone it for as long as she could.

That didn't mean that she would wait to see them, though. In fact, she had discovered that when she saw things privately, in secret before, her apprehension lessened when introduced to them formally. So she stood unobtrusively amidst the throng of nobles and officials gathered in the great courtyard to greet the newcomers.

She immediately recognized the new King, for Daeron Targaryen had the pale hair and purple eyes that both his children had inherited. When he dismounted, everyone bowed. But to Lyselle, the woman riding next to him was the true attraction. She had already heard the gossips about the new Dornish Queen, with her wanton ways, her incessant fights with her goodfather, and her influence on her husband. Many others, too, especially those who were new to court, were clearly there to see the foreign-born Queen. Daeron assisted her in dismounting as the Hand of the King came bowing and started speaking in low voice. Daeron nodded once or twice but his Queen would have none of it.

"Where are my children?" she asked and looked around, still straightening the hood of her cloak. "Where should I…"

But just then one of the doors of the ground floor opened and Aelinor came flying out. She crossed the door in two steps to fling herself into her mother's arms. Lyselle saw how the swarthy hands of the woman went white of clutching her daughter so tightly, the hood she had been straightening so carefully falling back to free long curls of black hair.

"What of Maekar?" Myriah asked when she finally let Aelinor go. Lyselle was close enough to see the imprint of Aelinor's brooch against her mother's throat but the Queen did not seem to care. "Isn't he here?"

Aelinor looked around. "I haven't seen him all day," she said. "I am sure he'll come as soon as he hears that you've arrived."

Oh no, you aren't, Lyselle thought and startled, realizing that this was the first time she was actually able to read another person's expression.

In the evening, they came for her; with her heart beating wildly, Lyselle followed the page who had brought her the King's invitation to visit him, praying that he had not summoned her to the throne room, in front of everyone living and those unsettling dragons… Aelinor had brought her there once and those skulls had scared Lyselle out of her mind.

She stepped through the door the boy opened with the feeling that she was doomed.

Instead of the throne room, she found herself in a big solar. Her own mother was there and cast her a brief encouraging smile before returning to her conversation with the Queen. Myriah of Dorne also smiled at her. Aelinor rose from the board game she was playing with Maekar and an older boy with dark hair and came to meet her. "Come on," she said and without delay brought her to the far end of the room where King Daeron and a fair-haired boy sat at the table, deeply in conversation.

"Your Grace," Lyselle murmured and executed her most elegant curtsey. In their long years alone, her mother had taught her how to perfect it, insisting that they were there only temporary and one day, Lyselle would live at court.

He nodded. "You may rise, child," he said. "Take a seat."

She did, feeling his eyes on her. She could say that he was examining her but it did not feel unpleasant. His eyes were big and kind, regarding her thoughtfully.

"I have to beg your forgiveness," the King said.

She blinked. In none of her books did kings ask forgiveness. Of anyone.

"I tried to do my best for you and your lady mother," he went on. "But my best wasn't good enough and for that, I am sorry. I can only try to make amends."

She was silent. He sighed. "Enough of that. I should not burden you with my own regrets. Actually, I summoned you because we need your help."

Lyselle was taken aback. The King needed her help? He smiled at her. "This is my son Aerys," he said. The boy smiled at her, too. Lyselle decided that he was her own age and then remembered that Aelinor had confirmed he was. He was quite slender and pale, almost as pale as her. Maybe he hadn't spent much time in the open, either. She immediately decided that she liked him.

"We have an argument over the veracity of what Maester Gyldayn and Maester Munkun wrote. As you might know, they contradict each other quite often."

She nodded. "I would look at their sources first of all," she said and in no time at all, the three of them were deep in conversation about various books and approaches.

Years later, Lyselle would think back of this night, relive it over and over. Baelor had been there, yet she hadn't even looked at him properly – she might have been of the age where girls started noticing boys but to her, those things would come much later. She had simply enjoyed the conversation on topics dear to her heart, oblivious to the fact that it was the first time Daeron and Myriah started to think of her as a possible future Queen.