Miru
Miru had quickly learned not to trouble Princess Jena. She was kind enough, to be sure, but the princess was not always attentive. Sometimes, Miru noticed that her voice was affected, as were her movements; it was during these moments when she could be especially absent-minded, or even impatient. It puzzled her, until she confided her confusion to Barba one night
"She's a wine sot," Barba had muttered darkly. "Mama was the same way."
Miru had been frightened, both by Barba's words and by the notion. Why would a princess need so much wine? Is she sad? Does Lord Titus know? Does Prince Baelor know?
She was certainly not going to tell anyone. She had seen grown men flogged for speaking so disrespectfully. Papa and Mama had always warned her against such talk, and without Lord Titus, she did not trust that her new station in life would save her from punishment.
The subject of Princess Jena was never spoken of between the girls and Sadog. If he knew, he gave no indication. Barba herself seemed unwilling to dwell on it, for she was quick to steer their conversations away from Princess Jena. Miru quickly learned to keep her thoughts on Princess Jena to herself.
This revelation baffled her nonetheless. Princess Jena had every reason to be in good spirits. Her son was expecting his first child, and the capital was basking in that pleasant news. Despite the autumn, there also seemed to be a new vibrance in the castle and the city.
There seemed to be a new commotion on the water whenever she had a good view of the sea. Ships were always coming or going, but there were more of them now. What especially caught Miru's eye were the remarkable colours of their sails. Blue, green, purple, maroon, scarlet, vermillion, and several others. They made for such a beautiful sight upon the ocean that Miru had begged Septa Jyzene for the chance to paint the harbour.
Much to her delight, the septa agreed. One sunny day, Miru found herself atop the walls of King's Landing, not far away from the Iron Gate, looking out at Blackwater Bay.
It was windy, but they were shielded by the battlements. As bemused guards looked on, Miru strove to paint the gorgeous sight before her. It was an excuse to dab a maelstrom of colours amid the deep blue of the water.
"Very good, Miru," Septa Jyzene said as she inspected her progress.
As Miru paused to mix two colours together, she turned to her instructor. "Where are those ships coming from, septa?"
"I imagine that most of them are coming from Tyrosh," Septa Jyzene replied. "It is one of the Free Cities."
Miru's heart sank. She thought back to Maester Quincy's lessons and Lord Titus' stories. She could not yet recall all the Free Cities by heart, but she had memorised enough about Tyrosh, Lys, Braavos, and Pentos.
"Is something amiss, child?"
"Lord Titus says the Tyroshi are slavers," Miru murmured as she looked back at the colourful ships.
"That is true," Septa Jyzene admitted.
"By the will of the gods," Miru declared softly, "no man, woman, or child shall put another in bondage, and own them as they would own a beast or bird."
It was a passage from the Seven-Pointed Star which the septa herself had taught them during their religious instruction. Miru had questioned its meaning, until Lord Titus had spoken of seeing people in chains, bought and sold as if they were chattel. Miru had wanted to know more, but Lord Titus put his foot down, declaring that he would say no more until she was older.
Barba was less reticent about passing on stories that she'd heard. "Thousands in chains," she'd whispered one night as they'd waited for sleep. "I heard Lord Titus telling Cayn about what he saw. He spoke of children being ripped from their mothers' arms. He saw men and women wailing and crying, but he said the worst was when they just stared, like they were dead on their feet. He said it was the worst sight he ever saw before the war."
Miru had not been able to picture those things in her mind; she could not imagine it. She wanted to know more. "Do they take the slaves too?"
"Of course they take them, Miru! They're all in chains!"
"No, not that… do they take them?"
Barba said nothing. When Miru looked at her, Barba wore that same expression which she always wore when Miru spoke of those things.
"I suppose so," Barba whispered. "Slaves have no rights, Lord Titus said. I suppose they couldn't say no, and nobody would ever save them."
Miru had wept then, thinking of those terrible moments with Brodda Hill. It had not been that many times, not a lifetime's worth. Lord Titus had cut off his head; he had taken her with him. Why hadn't he saved those slaves? Why hadn't he done something about it?
She had pondered what she had heard for quite some time, then put it aside when she'd given up on finding answers.
Now, it all came back to her as she spoke the holy text aloud, staring with dismay at the sails. She sensed that Barba had ceased her painting to look at Miru. Septa Jyzene gave her a thoughtful look before speaking in that soft, raspy tone.
"The laws of the Seven are not followed in every part of the world, Miru. You have long known that to be true."
"But then why are we welcoming these people to King's Landing? Why do we give them gold? Why do we treat them as equals?"
"Because we must forgive those who live lesser lives," Septa Jyzene urged. "We cannot make war and violence upon every kingdom or city that breaks our laws. The gods decreed this to be as the world must be."
Miru found that very strange; why should the gods permit such evils to exist which they themselves thought were abominations? The more she thought about it, the angrier she became at the injustice of it. The Seven were beloved; why did they allow slavers to thrive?
She put down the paintbrush, seized her half-finished canvas, and thrashed it against the stone battlements.
"Miru!" Septa Jyzene grabbed her. "What are you doing?"
The outrage and shock in her voice was so strong that Miru was stunned. She herself could scarcely believe what she'd done. Barba was staring at her, aghast.
"You will clean this up," the septa declared. "And then you will pray to the Seven for forgiveness."
No word of protest left Miru's lips; all that she gave was a meek assurance that she would. Tears were already flowing down her cheeks as she cleaned up the shards of her canvas frame. The paint was still wet, staining her hands and fingers. Septa Jyzene did not allow Barba to assist Miru, but she did allow her to escort Miru to the royal sept. The septa herself followed behind them.
The girls walked in silence at first, until Barba spoke up in a voice quiet enough for the septa not to overhear. "It would have been a beautiful painting."
"No." Miru did not want to speak of it. She might not be able to explain what had happened, but she could not regret it. She was still too angry.
Barba did not press the matter, but she did put her hand on Miru's shoulder as they walked along the wall towards the castle.
It was a long trek, and many guards watched them go by. Some were surprised, some were bemused, while a few had expressions which made Miru turn her face away. Only Barba's gentle but firm grip on her shoulder prevented her from running heedlessly in panic.
The royal sept was never fully empty, but nor was it crowded when they finally arrived. Mindful of the septa's gaze, Miru sat on a bench in the quietest and darkest corner. Barba took up a candle from the Mother's altar, lit it, and brought it over to Miru.
She did not pray for forgiveness as she gripped the candle with both hands. Truth be told, she did not really know what she'd done wrong. The painting was her own, after all; why should she not have the right to destroy it? Instead, she looked up at the statue which she'd always regarded with such fondness. Why? Why do you abandon so many people? Why don't you save them from evil?
There was no answer, as always. Miru felt her stomach being twisted and tied into knots. But she remained there, even when the strong fragrance made her feel dizzy, and melted wax ran over her paint-stained fingers.
The wax was warm, but it did not hurt her. It couldn't. She had already felt a far worse fire, scorching her body and scarring it forever. All her life, she'd heard stories of the seven hells, and those flames had embodied everything which the maesters and septons and septas had always preached about eternal punishment. She wept to recall the sound of her family's screams as they were cut down, and her own screams before she'd lost consciousness.
"Miru?"
Barba's hand was on her shoulder again. Miru kept her head down as she wiped at her face with the sleeve of her dress.
"That will be all for today," Septa Jyzene suddenly murmured as she stood beside them. "Unless you wish to finish your painting, Barba?"
"No, septa," Barba answered.
"In that case, I suggest you take some rest, Miru," Septa Jyzene urged, not unkindly.
"Yes, septa," Miru answered. For once, she hoped that Jyzene would not have more to say.
Silently, Barba encouraged Miru to stand up and follow her out of the royal sept. The septa followed after them, but kept her distance. Without Lord Titus' guards, the septa and maester were far more watchful of the children.
"Supper is only in an hour," Barba mused as she squinted up at the sun. "That's how it looks anyway."
Miru did not much care about food; her quandary was making her feel sick. She lowered her voice in case Septa Jyzene might overhear.
"Do you love the Seven, Barba?"
She looked up at the older girl, who looked troubled. She too spoke soft enough so that only Miru could hear her. "Aye, of course I do."
"How? How do you love the Seven when they let so much evil happen?"
"Who says it's them that let it?" Barba shrugged. "There's other power in this world, isn't there?"
"Is there?" Miru shuddered.
"Sadog found a few books on magic," Barba explained. "And I've heard stories about the other gods."
Miru shuddered; she had never liked hearing about those other faiths. She had always been raised to shy away from anything which existed in defiance of the Seven: those trees that Cayn held sacred, or that wicked water demon which the ironborn worshipped, or the god and goddess which Lord Titus had spoken of at times.
"Are they real, then? Is it them who are evil?"
"I don't know if they're the evil ones," Barba remarked dryly. "I think the evil ones are the men who took my brothers and sisters. The ones who butchered Cayn's da. The bitch who threw Sadog out of her house for being a cripple. Those are the evil ones. Maybe the gods did all that, maybe not. I might never know. But I know those ones are evil."
They had re-entered the Red Keep by then, walking down a corridor which would take them towards Maegor's Holdfast. Miru saw that Septa Jyzene was no longer behind them.
Miru was hardly aware of that corridor, however. As she'd done so many times in her dreams, she returned to the barracks of Crakehall. Lord Titus was urging her to point out the men who had slain her family, and who had tried to slay her as well. The details sometimes shifted in her dreams, but one thing which always remained the same were the looks of terror on the men's faces. See how they cannot harm you now? And soon, they will never harm you again.
She had not dared to speak of that night, not even to Barba. It seemed to exist beyond words within her mind. Or perhaps she quaked at the feelings which stirred within her whenever she recalled that dreadful hour.
She wished that she had the nerve to confide in Barba about these things. More than that, she wished she could speak more about her thievery. She wondered how much Barba had stolen, how much more she intended to steal, what she would do with her loot, and what would happen if they needed to flee the castle. She kept it all to herself, as she doubted that the older girl would want to discuss them. There too, Miru was too afraid to breach the subject again. She might have her own dispute with the gods, but she still dreaded their judgment against her for aiding a thief.
Miru was still subdued when she ate supper that evening. Sadog and Barba spoke of history, arguing the merits of dead kings and musing on old wars. She could not follow their debate, except when Barba made some witty jape at Sadog's expense.
Princess Jena was absent; rumour had it that she was ill, but nobody seemed very alarmed. Prince Baelor was still absent, while Prince Valarr and Prince Matarys ignored Miru as usual. Miru didn't mind all that much; Barba had once said that honest hatred was better than feigned love. Miru had not understood what she'd meant until she'd heard the empty courtesies which Princess Jena insisted that her sons give to their 'cousins' as she called Miru and the others. Miru was grateful for the princess's efforts, but it meant little to Prince Valarr and Prince Matarys.
Small wonder, then, that Miru followed Barba to their chambers once supper was finished. The girls did not speak to each other as they made their way down the usual route from the Great Hall to Maegor's Holdfast. For her part, Miru was lost in her own thoughts on the gods, on justice, on matters of right and wrong.
All that rumination made her move in a dreamlike state, or so it seemed to her afterwards. Later, she did not recall changing into her night shift, she just did it. She did not recall picking up the skipping stone which she'd taken from Crakehall. She just did those things, as she'd done so many times before.
"Miru?"
Barba was standing beside her bed. She still wore her clothes from supper, and she held a small bag behind her back. "I'm going to the privy. Understand?"
What do you need me to understand for? And what are you doing with that bag? The questions did not leave Miru's mouth. Instead she swallowed them and replied "I understand" in a quiet voice.
"Good girl," Barba told her in a strained voice. "I'll see you in the morning." And with that, she slipped out of their chamber. She closed the door quietly behind her, but it might as well have slammed shut with a monstrous clang, for Miru flinched at the noise.
Only then did she see that Barba had made it look as though she were still sleeping in her bed, covered in her blankets. When she pulled the loose floorboard away, she saw that all her loot was gone. Panic seized her; she wished she'd asked more from Barba before she'd left.
She promised, Miru reminded herself sternly. She won't abandon you or Sadog. She promised you. She was still reminding herself of it as she drifted into a restless sleep.
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When she awoke to the sound of songbirds hailing the new day, the first thing she saw was the bed beside her. At first she saw that it looked the same as it had the night before, until she saw the blankets rising and falling.
She slept in. How late did she stay awake? Miru groaned as she sat up. She approached the window and took several breaths of fresh air. Even so high up, the smell of King's Landing filled her nostrils. She wished that she could go sailing on the Blackwater Bay, until she recalled the Tyroshi ships.
She turned back to Barba's bed and gave her sleeping form a rough shake. "Barba," she called. "Wake up, Barba!"
A muffled cry sounded out as a pale form burst from beneath the blankets. Miru cried out in shock. It was Moon, her favourite cat. She didn't recall when the cat had come to their chamber; she hadn't been paying attention to anything the night before.
Quickly, she pulled away the sheets; her first assumption was confirmed. Barba was not abed, and worse...
She never came back. Miru felt her insides turning cold. She ran out of her chamber, still dressed in her night clothes, crying for help as loud as she could.
A servant in Targaryen livery ran towards her. "What's going on?"
"Barba," Miru cried, "she's gone!"
She showed the servants the bed in which Barba had not slept.
"Did she say anything to you when you last saw her?"
"She said she was going to the privy!" Miru was ready to burst into tears, but she dared not reveal the truth about Barba's true intentions.
"Get dressed, then," the servant urged her. "You are the princess's charge, you ought to speak to her about it."
Miru obeyed in a panic, throwing on the first set of clothing that she could find. She ran to keep pace with the servant, desperately hoping that the princess could make everything right.
A knight of the Kingsguard stood before the large doors. Miru recognised him; Lord Titus thought him a friend, though she had always been intimidated by his grim and scarred countenance.
Now, however, his eyes widened at the sight of Miru, who was gasping from haste and emotion. "What's all this?"
"I need to see Princess Jena," Miru gasped. "Please!"
The knight hesitated, then knocked on the door.
Much to Miru's surprise, the Crown Prince answered. "What is it?"
"The lady Miru, Your Grace," answered the knight in his deep voice, made louder by the helmet he wore.
After a moment, it was the princess who answered. "One moment!"
It seemed to last an hour, as Miru stood before the door, trembling as she struggled not to cry aloud.
Finally, Prince Baelor and Princess Jena emerged, looking down at her in surprise as she remembered to curtsy before them.
"What happened?" The Crown Prince knelt so that he was eye-to-eye with her. His eyes were wide with concern, just as Lord Titus' had been when she'd first met him.
Miru had never expected that a prince would ever kneel for her; such was the state of her that she was suddenly bereft of speech. All she could do was weep.
It was the servant who spoke first. He told them what Miru herself had revealed, and what he had seen.
Prince Baelor turned to the Kingsguard knight. "Ser Willem, was a brother on duty at the drawbridge?"
"Yes, Your Grace," answered the knight. "I believe it was Ser Androw Chyttering."
"Seek him out, and ask him whether he saw Barba leaving," Prince Baelor commanded.
Miru was still weeping silently. Princess Jena had tried to take her in her arms, but Miru had flinched, reflexively shaking her head.
"Take her to Sadog, and the baby," Princess Jena told the servant. "See that Caris looks after her for now. I will find Septa Jyzene."
"Will you find Barba?"
They all looked down at her. It had taken all her nerve to ask that question, but she was desperate for an answer.
"We will do all that we can, child," Prince Baelor promised her in that kindly voice. He was so reassuring that Miru almost breathed a sigh of relief. Then the truth of his words slowly washed over her as she was guided to Matthias' room.
She visited him almost every day. He was still a baby, but she was fond of him. He gurgled and smiled when she stood over him and held onto his hands. He tried to echo the words and names she said to him.
He was still asleep when Miru entered the room. Caris the wetnurse was awake, however. She was alarmed by Miru's abrupt arrival, but did what she could to make her comfortable. The servant was sent to fetch a sizable breakfast for two.
Miru had no appetite, but as the time dragged on, she began to listlessly eat at Caris' urging. She hid her face from little Matthias when her morose expression caused him to fuss.
"Pray to the gods, child," Caris urged. "May the Mother bring Barba home."
Barba's got no mother. And she couldn't even stop being a wine sot for Barba. Even now, she bit back the angry words forming inside of her. She stuffed her mouth with food instead, chewing roughly to expel some of the hot energy coursing through her.
She was still chewing on mouthful of tough bacon when the door opened. Miru nearly gagged as she swallowed in haste.
It was not Barba returned, but Sadog. He hobbled into the room with the help of his crutch. He stared at Miru in disbelief.
"What happened?" Sadog hated showing weakness; it was bad enough that he be a cripple, Barba had once said, and so he'll try and be as tough as he can. Now he was dismayed, openly afraid as he looked at Miru for answers.
She had hoped that it was a mistake, that Barba would be found alive and unharmed, eager to return. She had even prayed to the gods, as Caris had suggested. She had not prepared herself for this.
Miru rushed forward, threw her arms around Sadog's waist, and began to sob aloud. "She ran away! She left us! She left us!"
One of Sadog's arms was around her. He spoke several times, but she could not hear him through her grief. It was not until he and Caris shouted her name, the latter pulling her gently away from Sadog as he teetered on his one leg.
"She would never run away," Sadog urged. "She trusted Lord Titus."
Matthias was wailing too; Caris disentangled herself from the older children and gingerly picked up the babe where he writhed.
"She was the thief," Miru whispered to Sadog when she was certain that Caris would not hear. "She was preparing to flee."
Sadog stood rigidly, aghast. "What in the seven hells are you saying?"
In a hushed whisper, Miru hastily told Sadog what she had seen, what Barba had said, how she had kept her secret on the promise that they would all leave together.
Sadog shook his head in astonishment at the latter. "Gods be damned! Where would we have gone by ourselves? I wasn't going to leave, not for anything! They'd take better care of us here than the rest of the realm would!"
Miru was shaken by how immediately his refusal had come. Did Barba know that too? Did she decide to leave me because I tried to make her stay if we didn't all go? Remorse filled her, until she considered what she would have done if Barba had given her the choice. She looked away from Sadog, away from Mathias, away from Caris, and wept afresh.