DAENERYS V
"The sun was shining, the dragonflies were dancing in the vass reeds, and the summer was alive.
Behind her, the beginning of the Red Fork ran its mild trail from the fields and forests to the southwest. It was almost the Pink fork here, Dany thought. To the south of Pinkmaiden, there were still some small villages and towns, but the landscape became sparser as it came close to the borderlands of the western hills. The water ran slower than at Riverrun, only in its juvenility here, almost too slowly, but it made her somehow at peace, despite being further away from her brother and the ancient lands of her family.
"It's just all so beautiful. It's simply so green, and so... So pink", she told Ser Marq, for what must have been the tenth time this past month. They had spoken of many things, hundreds of things even, but now they returned to this tepid point of conversation once again. A truth was no less true for its repetition, Septa Merielle had told her, just as the light of the sun did not wear out from how many people gazed upon it.
"The river still runs pink here", Marq agreed. "Even though the castle was built thousands of years ago", Marq told her. "You should see it in spring, when the duckfeed and water lilies are even more abound, and more plants and flowers as well. The entire river blooms in a slow-moving sea of pink, blue and green."
"That sounds wonderful", she said.
"Our oldest stories tell that the Maiden herself went to bathe here once upon a time, and blessed the water with her pink hyde. ...Maester Durwen says it is only the colour of the rocks, of course."
He laughed, his long flaxen hair taking a sudden and riveting leap up from his shoulders.
All in all, Pinkmaiden was not altogether too different from Riverrun. The castle bricks were pink here and there instead of white, grey and ruddy, the moat was smaller, and the weather slightly warmer.
Her time with the Pipers had seemed to fly by. Moon after moon, she had settled in and found her way, going on her usual garden walks with Marq, talking and playing, giggling and sharing secrets with Melandra, listening to Septa Pellina's sermons in the castle sept and going down to the river to bathe a time or two. She had never done so at Riverrun, nor had anyone else, but after Jeyne Lolliston and the others had initiated her into the habit, she found it to be an almost bearable temperature now at the late height of summer.
Thankfully, they did not splash her with water, at least, something out of a dozen acts of [ ] she would have expected had her red Rohanne still accompanied her. As it turned out, however, at her father's stern insistence, she was now well and truly off with her Ser Emeryck, in his small keep somewhere to the northeast of Riverrun. Edmure had not heard much word from her since.
Her best company therefrom still remained to her, however. Her and Mathylda Piper were growing closer each day, as they watched the river or knitted or played in the shade of the garden. She had gotten to know Marq's younger brother Lewys, a polite and honourable boy, around her own age, but who looked far too much like Lord Clement, furiously red-headed, plump and bow-legged, for her to find him handsome. And she had also gotten a new lady-in-waiting in Rhialta Vance, the middle daughter of Lord Karyl Vance and his wife.
On this day, they were out by the river and flew kites. They were both happy, as the wind tugged and played with the kites high above.
"I just wish that I could fly like that", Mathylda said dreamily. "What if one could?"
"I have dreamt and wished for the same", Dany confessed.
They stood for another good while, saying nothing and watching the clouds. The sky was light blue, and the clouds large and soft, trailing themselves along with the warm late summer winds like cotton or lamb's wool. One of the closest shepherd's hages was just to the south, beyond the hedges and castle walls, a couple of hundred feet away. They would often go there to watch the sheep as they grazed, and speak in confidence of things.
That was where Dany had first told her about her moonblood, if only briefly, and when she had asked about it. Mathylda thought it seemed a little bit scary, and so she prayed that it would take longer time for her to get it.
Dany agreed, but assured her that she was getting used to the feeling by now, and that it did not hurt her more than being a bit dizzy at times. Maester Vyman, and the septa had all of them said much the same, several times.
"What does that cloud look like to you?" Mathylda asked, as she pointed up with her free hand.
"I don't know...", Dany said. "An elephant?"
"I thought just the same!" Mathylda laughed.
"What about that one?" Dany asked, pointing to the next one.
"A dog, perhaps."
"Yes", she agreed. "Edmure's Good-day."
"Or cousin Marq's Fetcher.", her friend said.
They kept watching, as the clouds changed shapes, smoothly and transiently, to the warm light sunshine of summer and the chirping of happy summer birds all around them.
"That one looks like Maester Vyman!" Mathylda said, and they both laughed at the somber-looking cloud, with its long face and pouting lips.
…
They returned in to the castle after another hour or two, and Dany retreated herself to her chambers.
She had been bestowed an entire corridor of her own; apart from her bedchamber and private quarters she had gotten charge of no shorter than four rooms, to decorate and care for as she saw fit. The rooms were large, but mostly empty, apart from sparse furniture and curtain hangings in dark blue, pink and verdant hues.
She had only begun somewhat to decorate the rooms during the past fortnight or so, asking Marq for some paintings and furniture. She would require an extra knitting table for her and Melandra, as well as several chairs, some new carpets, perhaps some tapestries of her mother's house, a rocking chair, if possible, and a small extra bookshelf where she could place the books she was currently reading.
The more she thought about it, the more she became full of ideas. Marq had also told her that she may do her best to improve her part of the castle gardens, which delighted her heart. He had sent word to the Stony Sept and hired a new gardener and an architect to help with whatever had to be built.
Daenerys had plans for an arch of smooth white stone, overgrowing with Marq's roses and green ivy, and perhaps a small pedestal with an ornate birdbath as well, if it could be afforded. The architect, a famed stonemason called Steffon Kingsblood for his supposed ancestry hailing from the line of King Tristifer IV Mudd, had already begun the work of making plans and showing them to her and Marq both. And Lord Clement, thankfully, had seemed impressed with her additions to his keep as well. The plump little Lewys, Marq's little brother, practically danced with excitement and professed that he had chosen the best lady wife in the entire Riverlands and that he would love to practice his sword fighting in the new part of the garden once it was finished. He was a young squire in training, and looked forward to perhaps coming along to Riverrun to squire for Edmure at some point.
The head gardener, meanwhile, was a stout and broad, bearded old man by the name of Garth "Roseroad" Murton, who had begun his work in a fascinating manner by trending the vines of the green ivy from the adjoining garden before planting the new seeds as well. He made good use of soil of at least three different kinds, as he laid out the foundation for the flowerbeds by daylight and made his other plans by eveningfall.
Daenerys was overjoyed with the progress the work was taking. She felt for the first time as though she might truly be content to stay at Pinkmaiden for the rest of her life – which, if she married Marq in another year or two, she most likely would.
…
Alas, however, the very next day came the news that they would be making a return to Riverrun again. It was soon come to be Lord Hoster's name day.
Born late in the year as he was, this would be his sixtieth name day, and a great and hopefully joyous occasion for all of the Riverlands to celebrate and bear witness to, even though he was ill as he was.
Knowing full well the limits of his own condition, as well as caring for his own comfort, however, Lord Hoster had only sent out invites to a little more than a handful of lords, including of course Lord Clement, Lord Vance and Lord Lolliston, as well as the old and widowed lady Shaella Whent of Harrenhal, cousin of his dear late wife, and finally the Mallisters. Edmure wrote as much to Marq in his letter, sent by pigeon and not by raven, as to denote the light-hearted tone of the message.
Notable in their lacking of an invitation was as usual the Freys, as Lord Hoster still held his ancient grudge towards them, as well as the Blackwoods and Brackens, for obvious reasons. He had proclaimed that he did not need to hear a single wooden spoon slammer onto the table of his dining hall more than he'd like on the day of his birthday celebrations.
…
They began to make their preparations not three days after, just as Steffon the stonemason prepared to send for the delivery of the white smooth stone all the way down from Dorne and via the Narrow Sea to the Blackwater Rush. Meanwhile, the first tiny green sprouts of ivy were seen propping up all over from the brown nurturing woodland soil of Garth Roseroad's making, and latching themselves to the sides of the grey granite ground stones.
Lord Clement made his goodbyes to his son, niece and daughter-in-law, as he told them to bear his best wishes to Lord Hoster, and brought them an elaborate gift to take with them as well. It was a wooden box filled with a dozen glass bottles of Arbor red wine, all of them packed together by an ornate band of silver trouts.
Ser Marq thanked his lord father warmly with a bow, and assured that he would be sure to let Lord Hoster know of the generosity of Pinkmaiden.
...
A half hour later, as the servants finished up with the last of the packing for the journey, they hopped up on their horses and began to ride.
They rode up along the [right side, the eastern side?] of the Red Fork, following the slow trailing of the waters which gradually increased in its speed and ferociousness as half a hundred of small tributaries from the sides all added themselves into the stream of it.
After three days' ride, in mostly shifting and changing weather, they reached her only so recently beworne home castle, and everything felt suddenly the same again, as she saw the red tiles of Riverrun's walls, although solemn somehow, already.
Marq helped her off her horse, lifting her up while giving her a little fond kiss on her forehead, as they handed over the reigns to Jake the stableboy and tied themselves momentarily to the snug comfort of the stables. It was pouring rain outside, and had done so for the better part of the last two hours as they had crested the large green round hills immediately southeast of the castle.
"I suppose we might stay here for a while, unless it easens up a bit", Marq said.
"No, please", Daenerys told him. "I'm tired. I wish to go inside."
"As you wish, my dear", Marq said, as he signalled for two servants to hold up whatever transient shelter of a cloak they could above the heads of them both, and Dany heard Melandra scream out from behind her as she stepped on a slug in a muddy puddle of water.
The gates to the castle itself swung open, as the servants called out and saw them approaching, the naked pink maiden of Piper, drenched soaking wet in the rain against a backdrop of dark blue.
"Ser Marq! Welcome! You are most expected!" One of the guards said.
Dany could barely make out the face of the man. Was it Ser Desmond, or Lydd, or perhaps the fat balding guard they called Toad?
"Had you expected the rain as well?" Marq called back, as they all hurried inside, boots stomping on soon-to-be water-stained stone floor, and heard the chains of the drawbridge close behind them.
They rushed in to the guest chambers and the beds that were prepared for them. Daenerys would not be staying inside her old room, now that she was betrothed and here as a guest. That felt strange, in a way, but also welcome. Instead, she would share the guestroom adjoining that of Ser Marq's.
I only hope that he does not come to me in the night... She thought. But she knew that he would not. They were both tired. And besides, he was a good man, and had told her several times that he saved such things for their wedding, in a goodly time from now. She believed him, and felt it to be true as well.
...
The next day, they broke their fast late, after a long sejour of sleeping, and made their arrival officially known to the castle now that its people were properly up and about.
Thankfully, Lord Hoster was in a calm and happy state of mind, as he sat up in his solar and watched the still flowing of the Red Fork and Tumblestone with seldom seen tranquility.
"Hello, little Dany", he said in a smiling tone as she appeared from the door.
"Lord Hoster", she said, making her little usual curtsy.
The lord of the Trident's old shield hung behind him on his walls, a huge oak-and-iron shield which he had worn when fighting in the [ ]. Beside it hung his old hunting horn, a reasonably small yet effective piece of black polished material, the one that he had used for finding aurochs once in his youth according to the stories, but Dany had never seen it herself. Such ancient memories, or rather the sights of them, had been reserved for his own children, those who had been fortunate enough to be born so soon, for Edmure and Queen Catelyn and the Lady Lysa.
She was late born, ever the late, both in her own house and to her guardians, and now to Ser Marq. Daenerys Stormborn, they had called her, Ser Willem Darry and the others when she had been born, but there had never been any great storms in her life after that, not truly.
Her life had been a still one, boring and peaceful, if shielded, and her biggest storms rested in her secret dreams about the dragon inside the castle walls. But noone knew about that. Not even her brother Viserys. Only Demken and Lydd, the guards that night, had seen her as she had got up. She still remembered the night so vividly.
"Come here, Daenerys. Come watch the river with me."
"Yes, my lord".
"Oh, you don't need to call me that, little Dany, don't you know it", he mumbled, as he rearranged his beclothes and bade Maester Vyman shuffle away his luncheon cart and tray for her to fit.
Then what shall I call you? She thought. Grandfather? But he was not. Her true grandfather, for she had only one, had died the same night that her brother Rhaegar had been born, a lifetime or two ago, in the ruins at Summerhall. She had never met him. Viserys had never met him. Not even Rhaegar had had the chance to meet him, and she herself had never met Rhaegar. She became sad for it. And so my grandfather to me you have been, despite it all, she decided, and so you shall remain, so long as I am free now from your grip, from your reign.
"Yes, grandfather", she said, as she tidied herself to sit beside him.
Lord Hoster seemed to shy up at the words spoken to him at first, but then he relaxed himself, cozied into a still calm, and accepted the words with a silent warmth she had seldom seen in him.
"You know, Dany, I used to sit here and watch the rivers with my little Cat when she was young. And when I would travel away, I would tell her to stay here – or, well, rather at her own floor – and to look out and wait for me. Wait for me, little Cat, and I shall return, I said. And I always did."
He came to a silence.
"But now I fear,... That my young and many days of travel are long gone."
He made a sound as of a dying man accepting his final resting place already now, though it could very well still be years for it to come.
"I have not even seen Pinkmaiden since five years back. The time takes its toll on me..."
Daenerys took his hand. She did not know what drove her to do it, but she did.
"I am sorry, grandfather. It was very pretty. All pink and elegant, just as in the stories."
She stopped herself, waiting for him to reply. When he did not say anything, she continued.
"But at least now... You know that you have ruled wisely over your lands. Do you not? Your vassals all come to you, to celebrate your reign. To show their love for you. Do they not?"
"I suppose you are right", he admitted. "I only wish that my daughters could be here as well. I'd pay half a shilling's worth even for the sight of my unruly brother by now...
But these are past gifts. I shall not come to see him again until my death, I fear. As for my poor Cat, and Lysa... "
He came to a semblance of a rusking, horrible coughing sound, but Daenerys did her best to not shy away this time, as she had when she made her betrothal to Ser Marq, half an eternity ago now.
Maester Vyman reached for the flask of medicine, milk of the poppy or whatever it was, but Lord Hoster only shook his head.
"No... Vyman, not... Not now... Later, when the afternoon comes."
"As you say, my lord", Vyman replied with a slight sigh, putting away the flask discreetly with the resignation of habit.
"Oh, these curses all lay heavy upon my house... Well... At least my young Edmure is fine and in good health. And you too, Daenerys. … You are soon to be wed to Ser Marq, are you not?"
"We... Have not discussed a date yet, but... Yes", she agreed. "Within the next coming year or two, perhaps."
She put it at a little bit closer in time than she truly would have liked for his benefit. He smiled sadly, and nodded, seemingly satisfied with the reply.
"That is good", he agreed. "All true and good. Yes... "
He sat up some more, angling his back to try and stay straight, even as his muscles failed him.
"He will make a good husband to you, Daenerys. But if you should ever need for my protection again, you will always be welcome back here, and have a place within my halls, and Edmure's as well, when the time comes for it. Of that I am sure. He loves you very much, you know.
… As a brother", he confirmed.
"I know", Daenerys only said, as she watched out across the landscape, seeing the still and tumbling waters of the aptly named Tumblestone, and the one or two fat fishes that glanced at the surface.
"I am grateful", she added, before Lord Hoster could reply.
He then came into another coughing fit again, but this time it was his own turn to take his arm away, slowly, yet hurriedly, as he reached for his stained old handkerchief to cough right into it with the croakings of blood and death.
She saw red, and shied away from it, meanwhile Vyman put up another pillow to straighten his lord's back.
"Thankyou, Vyman... Thankyou, Dany... My... My allegiances to you both. Now go down and have some hot bowl of supper, if you would."
It would not be supper for another two or three hours, at the very least, still being mid-day, but Dany understood the meaning as she arose from the bed and made the bed linens straight again.
"Don't mind that, my lady", Vyman assured her. "I will take care of it."
"Thankyou, Vyman", she only said, as she took another final glance at her trout grandfather, and slid out of the solar to the corridor again.
...
The next couple of days went by in a mostly quiet and still manner, as Dany and Melandra greeted their friends and got into their routines around the castle again.
She would return to her old habits at first, and sat and watched the river for a while, but soon found it to be of less interest than before, and preferred to for once instead duly answer the many questions that she got in a riddling fashion from all of her ladies, Joyce [/Merry?] Frey, Rhialta and Saera.
...
Lady Jeyne Lolliston arrived after the third day with a large party, and did her best to charm Edmure with every chance she got. She would speak to Dany as well, on most beguiling terms, as they all played [crocket/ball-and-mallet] and had sweet tea and lemoncakes.
"I dare say, Daenerys, your foster brother is a great one for putting his balls through the wickets here, but yet he remains duly unwed.", Jeyne said to her, as she prepared to knock her own ball forward on the grass of Riverrun's green grass lawn.
Daenerys felt slightly shocket at the bawdy comment, which was directed so clearly as that Edmure would be able to hear from where he and Marq stood, but she decided to her best abilities, and the advice that she had gotten from Septa Merielle, that she would try and remain dignant in the face of it.
"Edmure has many cares to attend to, and he is still young", she said carefully. "I am certain that he will choose a betrothed to marry within appropriate time."
"And what is within an appropriate time?" Lady Jeyne teased. "If he cares for his lady, he would do his best to pluck her while she is ripe, and not wait any longer as to torment her with his undecisiveness. Do you not think so, Daenerys?"
She knew that half the unwed maidens of the Riverlands fawned after Edmure, of course, including half a hundred Freys who would most like never get the chance, but few more so than Jeyne Lolliston. She had known Edmure since they were around eighteen or twenty years old, and had apparently waited for him to choose her to wife for almost as long.
Daenerys could only remember having seen her at Riverrun a handful of times before, however, and so she guessed that Edmure had mostly visited her at her father's keep. At any rate, she was restless.
"My lady, the noble trout of Tully has many cares to see to", Ser Marq called from the other side of the crocket yard. "You would not wish to trouble him with yet another one while his father is ailing, I am certain."
He had overheard her complaints, apparently. Daenerys was not surprised. Marq had an astute sense of hearing, she had noticed of late.
Edmure himself gave no answer, or else pretended not to hear, as he stood by Marq's side, only slightly further away, but busy with directing the long wooden mallet towards his next ball on the course.
"I am most certain that I would be able to take away some many of his cares", Jeyne replied. "After all, what man is not grown more harmonious, and more happy with a wife? His temper is calmed by the presence of his sweet lady's presence by his side. You yourself seem to have improved vastly in your sanguine faculties of late", she noted.
Marq would have shot back something of a jape, she knew, but instead of giving offense to Lady Jeyne, he merely shook off the notion with an arrogant laugh and swirrel of his long flaxen hair, and turned back to speak to Edmure instead.
Dany did her best to pretend to not hear the conversation as well. She was unsure about whether Edmure would choose a wife soon, but she did not think it gave any help to try and rush him, as Lady Jeyne did. No matter how long they had known eachother, it was true what Marq had said. Edmure had many cares now, and would regularly travel around his lands to speak and parley with his bannermen. He had went to Stone Hedge, and then on to Raventree Hall only a month ago, for yet another meeting and discussion of terms between Bracken and Blackwood. King Eddard had apprently decreed for a smallfolk's vote upon the fate of the village Blackbuckle, as well as adjoining lands, and Edmure had to go and oversee it.
Her foster brother got in a nice shot with his mallet, as she stood thinking on his obligations, and the ball went through three whickets at once, rolling to a stop some twenty feet down the course.
"Splendid!" Ser Marq commended, and applauded his friend and liege lord. Jeyne and Dany, as well as all the others, clapped their hands together as well.
"He has taken my flower, more than once, you know", Lady Jeyne leaned in to whispered to Dany.
She stared back into the face of her new lady acquaintance, trying her best to be dignant in her reply.
"If that is the case, my lady, I am sure that he will honour his allegiance to you", she said.
"He is honourable enough", Jeyne said, shrugging her shoulders, "but slow to action, and altogether too mild. He will need to grow his strength, and his determination, if he is to rule as his father did."
Dany thought on that, as she saw Edmure smilingly dawdle his way towards the next roll of the course, and Ser Marq gave a knowing nod towards her from across the green grass of the lawn.
"Yes, my lady", Dany murmed and agreed, lost inside her own thoughts of impending marriage. "Perhaps you are right."
…
...
A couple of days later, Lady Jeyne had decided to go and pray at the castle sept. Edmure had cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable, yet secretly relieved, when she had told him thus.
He and Marq, as well as some of the other lordlings their age, decided to spend the day target practicing. It was something that Edmure needed to practice on, and close to the only thing of war practice that Lord Hoster permitted in his sickness for that it did not clang and sound out across the entire castle and rouse his sleeping.
…
Daenerys and her ladies sat in the drawing room, attending to their knittings again.
It was early noon as she was placed between Melandra and her new friend Rhialta Vance, with Saera and [ Joyce / Merry ] Frey sitting around them, unsure of how to act now that Rohanne was gone. Saera had been her staunchest follower, Daenerys knew, but she hoped and believed that even she mostly had been as she was due to not thinking too much for herself. She was a follower, she decided. Yes. And Dany had to make them follow her now, even if she were to leave again for Pinkmaiden soon.
She did her best to compliment Saera's work, even when it looked crooked or the colours were slightly off. Saera seemed taken aback at first, having expected a harsher reaction now that her rowdy leader-in-tow had left them to marry the poor Ser Emeryck against her will.
Daenerys herself was working on a new piece to give to Marq. A beautiful picture of Pinkmaiden, and perhaps the two of them standing in front of the castle gates on the green of the lawn. She had not decided yet, as she was still working on the towers and turrets of the castle itself, in its pink and grey tones striding up towards the light blue summer sky.
"Do we have any more of the cerulean thread?" She found herself asking.
"I don't think so", [Joyce/Merry] Frey said. "I have not seen it in a long while."
They asked Septa Merielle, and she called for the servants, who confirmed that it was gone. They had not bought new thread since Daenerys had left for Pinkmaiden.
"The cerulean thread is very pretty, but far expensive. It is one of your favourites, is it not, my lady?", Trissie said.
"Yes... it was", she agreed. "Would you please ask lord Edmure if he could send for some more?"
"Certainly, my lady", Trissa replied, as she curtsied and went out into the main corridor.
...
"We used to always have that particular colour before", Saera told little Rhialta Vance, who was the newcomer in the group. "Lord Hoster has not gotten any new carts delivered from Fairmarket of late."
"It is very beautiful", Rhialta said in honest admiration, as she regarded Dany's fabric.
"Yes", Daenerys agreed. "I hope Ser Marq will like it."
"I think he will", Melandra said with a smile.
...
Suddenly, their peace and quiet was interrupted by the loud slamming of a door somewhere high up in the keep. Dany felt her heart jump almost to a burst, as her thoughts were interrupted by the loud sound.
One of the servants suddenly came running down the stairway hall outside in a terrifying haste, her hair halfway out of her shawl and her long dress sweeping behind her as she fled from the upstairs on two panicked legs. It was Trissie, one of the washerwomen, the eldest daughter to Linen Hildie, the matron cleaneress of the castle.
She did not stop until she reached Septa Merielle, at which point she bent down and whispered something to her ear.
The septa got something ill grievous in her eyes just then, and looked as if her wrinkled face were about to suddenly burst like glass, through some magic or other, as she took in the words whispered to her.
Dany felt her heart sink to her stomach, even though she did not know what the news were of. But on the other hand, she thought that she somehow did know, after all...
Septa Merielle did her best to gather herself, all in the same while as blowing her nose and continuing to stare straight into the wall like someone who had seen the face of the Stranger himself. Perhaps she had, many times before, but this looked worse. It was as if something had broken her. Yes, Dany thought. But then something shifted again on the old septa's face, as she rusked herself off, looked down quickly once, and then fastly up again, as she arose from the old rollingchair and stood.
"Ladies. You will all return to your chambers at once. There has happened something terrible, and you must go so that you are safe from... From... whatever it may be."
They were all shocked. Something terrible, just now? Today, of all days?
Dany had just gotten back to Riverrun for the first time in over a moon, and to celebrate Lord Hoster's name day. She had hoped for everything to go smoothly, but now this... She only hoped that it had nothing to do with her. She felt her heart shake inside of her, furiously, shivering in horror as she anticipated the terribility.
But Saera insisted to know what was happening.
"What is it, septa? Won't you tell us? Please", she begged, even though she should know better than to ask.
"No, my child. It is far for the best that you not hear it, until we are fully certain of what has happened."
But just then, there came another sound from the stairway, as a second and third servant both ran down, equally frightened, almost screaming, but with the air in their chests so stifled that they couldn't manage the words.
Daenerys recognized them well, but was still unsure of their names as she had seldom spoken to them. Vicky? Cornelia? Cranna? She had seen and met them many times before. The first one, who seemed the most upset, had honey-coloured hair and blue-green eyes. The second one a darker blonde hair and brown eyes. Dany had always thought she had those dark, shrewd-looking eyes before, but now those eyes were glistening wet with tears.
"Please, girls... Pull yourselves together!" Trissie said. She was only around nine-and-ten herself, Daenerys knew, but the upper floor maids were in shock, and Trissie had the hard voice of her mother to exercise command of the castle.
"I cannot... Oh, Mother, I cannot..." The first girl got out of her, Vicky, as she gasped for air, her blue-green eyes staring in front of herself as if she had seen a ghost.
"What is it?" Saera Paege demanded. "Tell us, or Lord Edmure will have you whipped for defying our orders!"
As far as she knew, Edmure had never had a servant whipped before in his life, Daenerys thought to herself, and most like the girls knew it as well, but the rebuke worked nonetheless, as she shed a few running tears out of her eyes, squalling with wetness and a horror to herself that Dany had never seen before, before saying the words.
"There's... M'lady, there's something up there."
She almost whispered the words, terrified of their meaning, which she had apparently just witnessed herself.
"'Something'? Well what is it?" Saera asked impatiently, as she tossed her knittings aside and arose to look the servant, almost twice her age, in the eyes.
The girl bawled out even louder at that, as she shook feverishly with the motion, and then cradled herself for her fears to try and comfort herself as best she could. Her friend did the same, using her apron to help dry the first servant girl's tears off.
"In the name of the Seven, you will tell us what has befallen you!" Saera commanded.
"Saera, that is blasphemous!" Septa Merielle shouted.
"My lady... Forgive me..." The servant girl sobbed. "It's... There's... There's a ghost up there. A thing, some thing, some... a black ghost, a terrible thing, unspeakable, it looks just like a walking shadow. The way it...- " She jerked her head away again, as if she was seeing it again. "- Oh, please Mother, no...! Don't make me speak of it again!"
"A what?" Saera was outraged. "A shadow? A black ghost?"
The girl bawled some more, but her friend, the one with the slightly darker hair and eyes, took up the thread of the conversation, and confirmed the truth of it.
"There is. It's whole true, my lady. It broke into Lord Hoster's solar. It went right through the door. A curse, it is. I think... I think...-"
"You think what?"
"It is the Stranger who's come to kill him out of his illness at last. He's taking him with him, to the under-world. ... May the Seven protect us all."
Daenerys dropped her sewing needles, as she quickly made to do the septagram across her chest.
Seven protect us, she thought. Crone, shine your light so that we find ourselves out of this. Warrior, Ser Marq, protect us. Mother, please protect us."
