Daenerys IV
"Wearing that dress, my love, your face can wear a smile to match," said Prudence thoughtfully, as the serving woman pulled a comb through Daenerys' gold and silver hair. "No woman will look near as beautiful as you tonight, or maybe any night after." Her tone was soft and steady, which often times would soothe the Princess from her minor troubles. It would not this instance.
"Prudence, I thank you, truly, for all that you have ever done for me and mine," the Princess replied curtly, "but I need not hear meaningless blather. Not now, nor any night after."
"Very well, your grace," Prudence said, yanking the comb through a knot of hair. "You'll hear no more from your lowly servant."
"Now, Prudence, I did not mean to offend-" Dany stopped as another yank interrupted her thought for the moment. "I truly appreciate your intent," the princess said in a more worried tone. "But what have I to smile about?"
"You're healthy. And that's not always the case for Targaryens, mind you. You're beautiful. You're wealthy and royal. Not much, I'd agree, but there certainly are a few things that come to mind."
"Prudence," the girl said.
"I know my name, child. Quit saying it over and over."
The princess finally smirked a bit. "Prudence," she said again, with a twinkle of coy in her eyes as she looked straight into the mirrored Myrish glass at her lifelong servant. "I can only feel guilt when I think of my good health as those die around me, or face death in my name. I can only feel shame for my beauty, when I'm to be dangled at this ball as an eligible prize before the grown men of court, when he that I truly love is facing the strange blades of murderers for gods knows how much longer. And I can only feel unworthy when I realize how little I can do, with all my wealth and lineage, to save even the ones who serve us, from the despair of living within our realm," Dany stared into a distant place as she trailed off at the end, nearly forgetting what she was even doing in the cushioned chair for a moment.
Until Prudence's comb found another tangle.
"You're too old for your age, young one," her maid servant shot back. "You and your baby sister seem beyond the few months or years you've known this world."
Daenerys looked at the image of herself as if the young woman looking back was another person entirely. She did not want to attend the stupid ball.
Most people welcomed the new year with the hope of what could be, or what could change for the better. In the opulent dress, pruned and primped provocatively, she felt like stock in a store, being prepared to fetch the best price at market, and feared all the year to come would be filled with the same sort of auctions.
As if she was merely an item up for bid.
Prudence's firm words shook her from her imaginings. "That wet nurse had naught to do with you, your grace," she said with certainty, as if she knew what the princess was thinking when she did not. "Naught any of us can do for a woman with the despair she felt daily. Losing her own child was already too much. For her to survive by suckling another is what pushed her, not anything you had control over."
Dany felt Prudence was wrong in that. If she hadn't been so set on defying her father, the wetnurse assigned to Shiera might have had more of a chance to cope with her own loss.
Not that Dany had ever truly felt responsible for the wetnurse jumping to her death. Still, there was something strange about it. Strange, and somehow sinister. Had it not been obviously impossible, Dany might have suspected the babe herself, as gleeful and giggling as Shiera had been when Dany had found her in the cradle that day.
Dany was haunted more by the attacks on her half siblings, and by the fears she had of her shining knight of a brother and suitor out defending the realm from ruffians than by any of the deaths in the castle of late.
Even her mother's.
"At this point, Prudence," the princess said, emphasizing the name of her servant again, "I'd assume you've done all one can do with a comb. Please braid it so I can attend to the Rivers girls. Or so that you may attend to them."
Prudence said nothing more and began the long, arduous process that was preparing a Targaryen princess for a ball, with the paint pots, creams, and dusts all lined up behind her on the powder covered dressing table.
"Mya, you look absolutely stunning in red," Dany exclaimed as she breezed into the newly assigned chambers for her Blackwood half-sisters. The elder of the two Rivers girls was only a year and one half younger than she, but looked much younger than Dany was dressed to appear.
"Thank you, your Grace," the girl replied softly. She had a tired look about her, and bowed her head as she spoke like she still had something to fear.
"And Miss Gwenys, how fine is that black dress?" Dany asked the younger girl fidgeting in the chair at the dressing table, who had a comb ripping through her own hair like Dany nearly an hour before.
"Too fine for the likes of me, Dany," the girl shot back, grimacing at herself in the mirror as the new servant, Toss, did her best to tame the younger of Missy's girls' raven black hair.
"How so?" Dany asked.
"I'd much rather be in riding breeches than a foolish gown for a ball."
As would I, most days, thought the princess.
"In any case," Dany said aloud, "you look as fine as a girl can look."
Pleasantries seemed too little a gesture after what her siblings had been through on their way to King's Landing, but what else could one say? Or do?
Daenerys felt as helpless as ever. Just a thing to look at.
No, she thought. That, she vowed staring at the hollow painted thing that was her reflection, is not who I'll be.
"But a ride does sound quite lovely. I'm of your mind, Gwen," Dany said, remembering hearing Mya calling her sister that. "Bugger this silly ball and all this silken finery."
Her sisters both giggled. The new serving woman had not the gall yet to question the princess' foul language, so Dany continued, "To break forced etiquette, I'll say I've little to no interest in the adult parties and balls of the sort we're to suffer this evening. But I do revel in the chance to spend that silly time with the two of you." She smiled at Mya, and placed her hand on Gwenys' shoulder. "So, at least we have that, no?"
Toss hadn't stopped fussing with Gwen's hair though, not even as Dany placed her hand on Gwen's shoulder. Flustered, the servant fumbled the comb as it hooked a tangle. The servant struggled to yank it through, and when she did, her elbow jerked through the girl's hair and launched Toss' elbow into the Princess' cheek.
"Oh, no . . .," the woman murmured nervously with an accent that sounded Northern. "I'm so dreadfully sorry, your Grace. I'm so, so, sorry." Toss repeated over and over.
The room was silent. So quiet, all Dany could hear was the burning wicks of the candles about the room softly crackling.
The princess composed herself and looked back into the mirror to inspect for possible damage from the blow. "Seems I've enough powder already on my face that there's nothing more to see than just a fuller rouge."
"Balls are good for somethin'," Gwen grinned.
"I don't think you're old enough to say that with certainty," Mya quipped, smirking
Dany burst out laughing once Gwen caught the jape, and Toss was left shaking and silent as the three sisters had a hard laugh at that.
Most young ladies would have loved hearing how beautiful they looked as often as the Princess did walking into the Ballroom, greeting the usual Lords and Ladies that would make the journey for the End of the Year Ball. To her, then, each repetitive compliment felt more and more meaningless. Dany tried to deflect the attention given to her to her half-sisters.
Of those in attendance, many and more were just the usual lickspittles her father had benefitted from having near him. Many of the others were the members of the household, forced as she was, to attend. Yet compared to years prior, years Dany could remember, the room looked empty. As if less were invited to attend. Or inclined to.
At the head table, prepared for the feast as always, sat her father the King. She had not seen much of him of late, and from the distance, he appeared sunken. Still enormous compared to most men, but smaller than he had been. His face was worn and loose, and his hair looked waxy from a distance. She found herself almost struck with worry.
The feeling passed expeditiously.
"Are these Missy's daughters?" Betty Merryweather asked, trailed by Ysabella and Martha, the trio bursting through the thin crowd to greet Daenerys, Mya, and Gwenys. Ser Blake's broad presence hovered over the King's daughters like a protective shadow.
The White Knight stepped aggressively in front of Daenerys. Startled, Ysabella stumbled back into Martha's arms.
"Ease off, Ser Blake," Daenerys ordered. "We've not to fear from these, I assure you. Other than maybe a few sharp jests."
"And the boy?" Ser Blake asked gruffly, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Just behind Martha, an unfamiliar young man bowed as he stepped out from behind the girls.
"Apologies, your Grace, ladies, ser," the boy replied with perfect courtesy, pausing and looking at each of them as he addressed them. "I am Martha's cousin, Dickon Darry. Lady Mya and Lady Gwenys might remember me from the road, though I wore my armor and my hair was all mussed, so it is forgiven if you find it hard to recognize me now that I've been made presentable."
Mya curtsied and blushed, her eyes fixed on the Young Dickon. I see, the princess thought. The young man was broad at the shoulders, but thin, with a clean, boyish look to him. He had chestnut brown hair, normally clipped, now just too long that it would fall from being tucked behind his ears. His eyes were kind and humble, and not once did he look upon the princess inappropriately. In fact, he was the only man, young or old, not to mention how beautiful she looked.
It was no wonder her half-sister smiled as wide as she did whilst Dany's girls tried to coax her away to where they would be sitting.
"I must sit with my sisters." Dany smiled, happy to have sisters close enough to sit with.
"And your father," the three replied as if they sang the chorus to a familiar ditty.
"Yes. And my father."
When they left, Mya curtsied again towards the young knight. The little fool, thought Dany to herself.
Is that what I look like around Daemon?
Maybe once, Dany had, though likely not. The two had always been close, so the princess could not remember a time she felt the way Mya did.
Mya was not in love, she was entranced. There was a difference. A difference even a girl as young as Dany knew. Or for a girl who felt she knew what true love really was.
"Come, silly girl," Dany called. "Once was enough. We will likely see them again later."
"You mean it?"
It seems Mya's absolutely smitten.
"Father," Daenerys called out from the table below the high dais.
"Yes, sweet daughter," he said, out of his usual character.
"I would like for Mya and Gwenys to sit with us, for all the court to see our family together."
Daenerys Targaryen had felt surprise before. She had never felt such utter amazement to hear her father's next words.
"Aegor's place is already set to my right. Their places are set nearest you. That was always my intention for this evening. I know I have been absent of late. There is much that needs my attention, and frankly Daenerys, my presence has not been a pleasure for anyone cursed with my company." His words were loud in her ears, but drowned out by the collective noise of the crowd. It was as private an admission the King could give his daughter, surrounded by the lot of them, and it was as much a daughter she had ever felt.
"I'm only saddened the Young Brynden is too under the weather to join us. He is in good hands with Maester Forman, but he is still recovering from the road."
Daenerys couldn't remember being more pleased fetching her sisters to sit above all the others at court.
As they ate they talked, making merry of the odd folks of the crowd, Gwenys showing a keen eye for bad wigs, and Mya as giggly as maybe she had ever been, even at Raventree Hall. Daenerys nearly let herself forget the miserable mask she had been wearing in light of recent events, only remembering when she felt the slight pain from laughing and smiling for too long. It was a relief, however brief, and she felt as much a girl as she could in the dress and corset she wore, simply laughing with two girls she barely knew, but innately loved all the same. Who was she to frown when they were the ones that had actually faced fear? Who was she not to laugh just as hard at Gwenys' grotesque expression when she mocked how Lady Roseby looked trying to eat her lemon tarts without fully opening her mouth.
"Looook," she squeaked, mocking what she must have believed a lady would sound like, in a high-pitched voice with her face puckered laughably tight. "I'm a troooooo laaaady." Without opening her lips, Gwen closed their edges, almost kissing the tart on her plate, taking in only a crumb at a time, all to Dany and Mya's extreme delight, a delight so delightful that they drew concerned stares from the King.
"Ddddlllsssous," Gwen mumbled, making it sound like, "delicious," but only if you tried to say it without opening your mouth. Gwen was fun. Dinner had been fun. Dany found she enjoyed family.
But then, dinner and desserts were over, and the household cleared the hall of all the food and tables.
This part Dany dreaded. She did not want to dance with any of the men that would surely approach her. She was not yet of age, but near enough, and they would line the hall for their chance.
She did not want to act a lady for any of them. It was better just being a girl.
At a ball, it would be seen as a slight to refuse even petty lords and lordlings. It was the politics of the life of a princess. Her lot was to dance and smile.
Dany thought of the young woman in the mirrored glass, the woman she was made to be that evening. She did not feel like a woman, or like being a woman, at least. She wanted to be able to just
Be.
She decided, then:
She would not dance. She had no wish to.
But how could she not without drawing the ire of her sire?
She thought of how as her sister stared wide eyed into the crowd at Martha's cousin.
"Balls are good for something," Dany said, teasing.
Mya blushed and pushed at Dany's shoulder.
"Easy," Dany said, giggling. "Your serving girl hit me hard enough already. Say, you wouldn't mind dancing for me if I'm not able to or anything? You're as much a princess as me, and who knows which young men might be brave enough to dance tonight? Maybe Ser Darry?"
"I'm no dancer, your Grace," Mya admitted.
"Never call me that, Mya. Call me Dany."
"I'm no dancer, Dany," Mya said with a warm smile. "But it would be nice to twirl this dress about once or twice. . . Maybe," she continued. Mya looked puzzled, not understanding what the princess might have meant.
She'd soon find out.
When the floor was cleared, the royal family all stood and walked down from the raised platform their table sat upon to the main level of the ballroom floor. The stairs were only wide enough for one of them to walk down one at a time, so they proceeded down, one by one, from Aegor to Gwenys.
When Dany reached the stair, she mussed the bottom of her gown, and purposely stepped on it as she descended to the second step. She let herself fall, but once she committed, tumbling face first downward, she feared her plan was too ambitious, and that actual pain and suffering awaited her when she reached the floor.
Two arms reached out and grabbed her just before she was about to crash against the granite. She squeaked, truly startled by her own decision, and was thankful to whoever was quick enough to save her.
She looked up to see her half-brother Aegor, grinning like when he'd play knight in the halls to himself. Her eyes caught his and said, "My hero." He grinned even harder. She knew he'd like that.
After much commotion and too many mummers' attempts at concern from the gallery, Daenerys feigned pain in her foot. She wished to stay at the ball, but would appear to be unable to dance with would be suitors.
A que had already formed, so gracefully, Dany announced, "It is with great disappointment I cannot enjoy the floor with you all this evening but my sister Mya Rivers, my ladies Elizabeth Merryweather, Martha Darry, Ysabella Darklyn, and my hero and brother Aegor Rivers are happy to take my place if you'll have them."
"Hey!" Aegor yelled. "I'm not dancing in your place."
The room felt alive, and her ruse had worked.
She sighed. Pleased with herself, as she checked the line of suitors for Dickon Darry.
Gods be good. Here I am feigning injury to avoid men just to scheme to try and send one my younger sister's way.
Dickon had not yet joined the procession, which, as a suitor for Mya, endeared him even more to Dany.
Maybe it'll be better if they don't get to dance tonight. There will be more balls, and she is still but a girl.
Like me.
"I've noticed how you've been shifting your weight, your grace," Betty whispered. "Which foot is it that ails you, if either truly ails you at all?"
She gave the princess a start, who was focused on Mya dancing with a lordling of House Hayford, and Gwen beginning to grow weary of the events of the ball.
"By the gods, Betty," the princess gasped. "How did you creep up on me like that?"
"I was trying not to alert your white mongrel."
Ser Blake kept close to Mya. It had not been much more than a fortnight she had been targeted, so it was logical for their protector to suspect the fickle members of court that could so easily have been bought.
Or so the princess imagined.
Dany looked to Gwen, seated on the bench next to her, falling asleep with her face in her own hands. Betty leaned into the princess and said, "Some of the young lords wanted to join the girls and yourself in the halls. Ysabella managed to steal away some wine and thought it would be fun."
"Ysabella?" Dany asked surprised.
"She is quiet."
"Indeed."
Mya twirled no more than a stone's throw from them as the princess thought of how to answer. Daena wouldn't have even hesitated, likely making into the kitchens for even more wine than Ysabella was already able to steal away.
I can be defiant.
But did she want to be?
Gwen's mouth began to fall open, and the look on her limp face was both comical and adorable. Pure in its childishness.
Then, the princess looked to Mya, whose face had never seemed as bright as when she spun around the floor with her red gown shimmering in the candlelight, clearly too young for the young man she danced with, though he was courteous enough to leave a wide berth for her to frolic more than she adhered to the steps normally customary for such dances.
"I must stay and look after my sisters. If the young lords won't sneak off without me accompanying you, then they were just going to use the jaunt as a way to plant the seeds for some indecent proposal once I've come of age."
"They're nobles," Betty replied, "not the baker's boys. They have decency and courtesy. They just want to enjoy themselves a little more, and besides, the big one has his eyes on me."
Dany refrained from even looking at them. Betty did her best to compel her to, but the princess had no interest in the boys of court.
"Come then, you silly twit," Betty said, clearly having already tasted some of the stolen wine. "You comin' around the corridor with us isn't going to ruin your love with Ser Daemon. He'll come home, and you'll jump straight into his meaty arms, but you're not dead while he's gone. You're just not with him, is all."
"Even if that's true, which sure, I'm alive. I'm not saying no because of Daemon. I'm saying no because of the girls."
Betty pouted. She wasn't as pretty when she wasn't smiling.
Dany felt guilty, as if her presence was something she owed her ladies. "There will be another ball. My father is still King. And Ysabella will be just as quiet then, too."
"Then it'll only be two of us. Martha won't come with her "do no wrong" cousin here and now you. It'll be just Ysabella and I, and as good as she apparently is at theft, conversation is not her finest suit."
"You finally have your chance at boys and now you're concerned with talking?"
"At least at first," Betty smiled coyly. "Future Lord Peake's as big as Daemon."
Dany forgot where she'd heard that name from. It was something recently, but a lot had happened in King's Landing she must have forgotten specifically what it was.
Betty touched her forehead to Dany's and curtsied farewell. She skulked off through the crowd and Dany lost her amidst couples dancing before long.
Mya returned as chipper as a song bird.
"Gwen's out," she said as she sat on the other side of Dany.
"Seems to be."
"We should see her to bed."
"But what about your dance with Ser Darry?"
"He's not dancing at all, and I've had as much fun as maybe I've ever had. Raventree hall doesn't revel as much in the light as it dwells in the doom. We're more ceremonial than celebratory."
"Well, you're Targaryen too, and as much as I know, Targaryens celebrate better than the lot of them."
"Aye," Mya said, nearly out of breath. "We do." Her smile was infectious and Dany couldn't help but smile to match. She was glad to be rid of her mask of misery.
"I'll fetch Ser Blake. If it's not too late, maybe he'll escort us back down after we get her to bed."
"Stop talking about me," Gwen moaned through the arm she was laying on. "I'm right here next to you."
Ser Blake escorted the girls to their chambers, carrying the sleeping girl on his shoulder like a sack of grain. His shoulders were broad enough to hold her and keep an arm free if he had to defend them. Dany felt safe around Ser Blake.
When they'd reached the room, the white knight walked in first, inspecting each separate area for any hidden intruders or foul play. When he was satisfied there was nothing afoot, he allowed the girls to tuck their younger sister into her feather bed.
Mya's radiance hadn't faded, and it seemed she'd been won over by the romance of the ball. She wondered aloud what Dickon Darry was like, talking about his form and what she liked about his look. She admitted she had never looked at a boy in that way until she recognized the knight that led the final and safe leg of their journey to King's Landing.
"Are there any boys or men you admire, Dany?" It was a comfort to hear her sister speak to her familiarly, but Daenerys did not know what to say. What would she think? She's of Targaryen blood, but would she understand my involvement with Daemon?
"There is a boy, yes," Dany admitted.
"You must tell me," Mya replied with glee. "I swear by the gods not to reveal it to another soul," she said. "Not even Gwen," she whispered.
"I can hear you," Gwenys mumbled, half asleep.
"You're aware of Daena's son, Daemon, who rides with the party in the Riverlands?"
"Aware? We met upon our departure from Darry. The ladies of the castle spoke as if he was the most beautiful man to have ever lived. I know not of all the men and boys in the realm, but I can see what they mean."
"Eww. Gross," Gwen said from beneath her covers.
Dany and Mya giggled.
"I'm sorry, Princess," Gwen mumbled, "pretty or not. He's a boy. And he's you're brother, our brother. That's just gross."
Mya pulled Dany into the common area so they could talk more away from their half-sleeping sister. Dany thought Gwen's thoughts on the matter were refreshingly honest and understandable given her age. She wasn't even wrong in her judgements.
Within a few quiet moments, Gwen was back to sleep, snoring like an old man. The girls laughed hard at that too. The night had been full of laughs and fun. Dany was grateful for it.
"Have you ever kissed a boy?" Mya asked.
"Yes."
"Was it Daemon?"
Dany nodded.
"What is it like?"
Dany didn't know how to explain it. "Weird. It's not comfortable at first, yet it's like you can't break away from it. There's like a rush that goes through you, and it's all you ever want. But that's only if you really really want it. I've never wanted a kiss before I wanted one. It's hard to put into words exactly what goes on inside your head when you're with a boy like that, but when it's happening it's all the feelings in the world at once, and it's all in every weird second until he kisses you, and during, and especially after."
"I want a kiss."
"I'm not kissing you," Dany teased.
"I don't want one from you."
"Do you want to go back down to the ball?" Dany asked.
"Not for a kiss. Oh gods, no. I'm not ready for a kiss, really," Mya said, sweetly fearful and changing her mind.
"No one's kissing anyone, dear sister. Really, as old as we are, Gwen's right. But you can still think that you'd want one if given the right circumstance."
"It's lovely to think about happening one day, but happening soon makes it seem terrifying."
"See, you get it. Come, let's get back before the Lords have had their fill of drink and start to trip over themselves. It's usually the best part of the night."
Ser Blake hesitated bringing them back down to the ball, citing once the party began to wane, and guests started wandering the halls, nothing yet to happen could make their night better, only worse.
"'Tis your duty to ensure no worse becomes of us. Take us down, please?"
"Please?" Mya joined in.
"Please, please, please, please?"
"Fine. Fine. Fine, quit it, will ya? I'll take you back down, but no funny business. Stay close. It's dark."
Dany and Mya laughed through the halls as Ser Blake sternly scurried to secure every corner of their path. They were having such fun, Dany nearly didn't recognize the dark shape hunched in the corner at the bottom of the staircase to the hall that led around to the back of the ballroom. She almost didn't hear the crying.
Ser Blake did, though, and rushed over to the shape instinctively.
Daenerys followed behind closely. It was Betty, whose dress was ripped, exposing one leg all the way up to her thigh. Her hair was a jumbled mess compared to how it been at the ball, pulled down and out of place as if she'd rolled around the floor on it. Dany felt compelled to offer her comfort, and as she drew closer, Betty's state became easier to comprehend.
She shook in Ser Blake's arms as if she had a chill, with a blank expression fixed to her face, as if she'd taken leave of her body to spend her thoughts elsewhere. Blood seemed to be smeared in places it shouldn't have been, as the top and back of her legs were lined with drips, and the seat of her torn gown was stained red.
Dany's heart sank in fear and despair.
"You're safe now," she heard him say. "What happened?"
She responded by crying softly, trying to hold back her tears, burying her face into the bare skin of her shoulder, as the strap had been ripped from her gown. She whispered a whimper into his ear, "Could you see me to the maester?"
Without a word, and with the thickness of tragedy in the air, Ser Blake escorted his charges and Betty to the new Maester Forman's room, leaving Betty to be treated, and escorted Dany and Mya back to theirs for the evening.
Daenerys felt the mask of her smile fade.
She feared the New Year could be even worse.