Chapter Text
My fingers followed the ornate pearl comb, smoothing the already silky smooth silver hair. It felt almost sacrilegious to run my fingers through Princess Jaehaera’s hair. To touch one of the defining features that separated Targaryens from the rest of men.
Not that there aren’t those within the family who do not possess the silver hair. My lady mother had spoken enough of Queen Rhaenyra’s first three boys with their dark hair. Though she had said it in a tone like it meant something she never made me privy to. After coming to King’s Landing I grew more familiar with the rumors my mother was smart enough to not infer too obviously.
It always seemed silly to me. It was not like there wasn’t precedence. What with Princess Rhaena, the Queen Who Never Was, with her Baraethon black hair. Though she did always have threads of silver woven throughout, if the tales are to be believed. But now there was further proof with the ladies Aerea and Ceryse. Despite both their parents possessing the Targaryen silver hair, the two girls had somehow emerged pale auburn. Of course it only fueled the rumor mill, spinning tales that Lady Rhaena had been unfaithful to Prince Daeron, despite how very obviously in love they were with one another and the fact the color runs in the prince’s side.
Still, the Targaryen silver hair stood out, making them otherworldly. As if their bond with their dragons were not enough of a sign. They were as close as we probably would get to coexisting with myth. With gods.
Old Septa Morya would have frowned at my thoughts. Then proceed to remind me how the Doom of Valyria most likely came about because they had too many gods.
“The world craves balance,” she would say. “When there is an abundance of one, the universe finds a way to recreate its harmony. For the Valyrians, it was their doom.” Always with a glance over her shoulder, she would lower her voice to add, “It is most likely why the Seven gave King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne such tragedies. The poor souls. But perhaps the world cannot handle that many dragons at once.”
“Roseline?” Jaehaera’s soft, even voice snapped me out of my reverie.
“Sorry, your highness.” I put away the pearl comb and began to pull her hair back to braid.
“Down.” Meeting my eyes through the glass, Princess Jaehaera continued, “I wish for it to be down. Or at the very least half.”
My brows pinched together, but I nodded before getting to work. No one exactly told me how I was to do the princess’s hair. I assumed it was to be up in an elaborate braid as the queen and Princess Viseneya wear theirs. Even the other royal ladies outside the nursery wore all their hair in elaborate braided updos for special occasions. And tonight was especially special.
Yet, I knew why she did not wish it. Unlike the others, she and her mother were the only ones to possess the same thick wavy hair as the dowager queen, though not her color. That lived on in at least two of her other granddaughters.
I had only seen the dowager queen once, when she briefly came to my father’s castle in an attempt to sway him to support her side. Peering over the lip of the window in the tower stairwell that overlooked the courtyard, I could make out the dowager queen by her long, thick hair that appeared redder against the back of her forest green gown when her veil was captured by the breeze.
Taking half of the princess’s fine silver hair, I twisted and braided it into a circle along the upper back of her head to help hold up the thick curving band of the halo-like tiara she was expected to wear. I’m told it is the very one Queen Rhaenyra had worn when she was named heir. The wide black band was decorated with gold embroidery and gold metal pieces flattened into patterns and fingernail size coins. It matched the heavy black and gold cape.
Despite the weight of the cloak, which had caused me to gasp when I initially picked it up, and the crown, Princess Jaehaera stood tall, her chin lifted as though she wasn’t wearing her weight in gold and fabric.
“You look ….” Words failed me as I stared at her reflection over the princess’s shoulder.
“Like a dressed lamb bound for the banquet tables.” Though her voice did not fluctuate, her jaw clenching gave her away. At least to me.
“No, my princess, like a future queen.”
Her gaze fell.
Stepping around, I sucked in a breath before grasping her hands, pulling them away from the delicate emerald green dress she was picking at. “How can I help?”
“You can’t,” she said with a heavy sigh. Her normally pale lashes, now darkened, brushed against her fair cheek. “Not unless you can change history.”
“I can not. But I do believe the Seven has a plan for all of us. Their plan can at times give us pain and heartbreak, still I believe they are working on a great tapestry in which we all have a part to play.”
“And if I wish I had a different part? A different tapestry?”
I wiped the tear before it could roll down her cheek. “Have faith the Crone will help lead you through the worse.”
With a nod, Jaehaera straightened. I stepped away. Despite having at least half a head on her, I felt small when in the princess’s presence. Against the odds, she grew up to fit her title.
Taking a deep breath, Jaehaera began her processession.
At least she did till she halted in the doorway between her bedroom and the shared room that connected hers, her mother, and brother’s bedrooms, causing me to nearly walk right into her. Stepping to the left, I was able to see past to what had caused her reaction.
“Princess.” Prince Aegon the Younger bowed. He looked like a dark prince from a minstrel song. He wore all black except for the ruby buttons adorning his doublet and the dark, blood red cloak that hung from his shoulders. An inverse of the cloak my lady wore. Straightening, he brushed his own silver hair back, causing the gold band across his brow to catch the waning light.
“Where is my brother? I thought he was to escort me down?” Jaehaera glanced around the empty sitting room. “Or my mother.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” he sounded far from it, “but it was always to be me. Seeing as we are to announce our engagement.”
Catching the jerk of Jaehaera’s shoulders straightening, I could only imagine the way her violet eyes were hardening. An expression I had been privy to witness whenever the two interacted in the past.
“Well, then, let us get this over with.”
At the princess’s cold tone, Prince Aegon’s jaw grew sharper as he ground his teeth.
It was funny, how much they both seem to hate one another’s presence, with how dissimilar they were in every other aspect, yet they shared the same tells.
“Lady Rosaline, do you mind going ahead to let Lord Corlys know we are to arrive. He said he would be waiting by the doors.”
A command framed as a question. With his tone lightening and a smile gracing his face, it was obvious why the entire court adored him. I hate to admit it, but even my stomach flipped. Once.
I curtsied before sliding past Jaehaera to make my escape, keeping my gaze focused straight on the door. I told myself she would be fine.
The upper halls were near empty, seeing as its inhabitants and even servants were most likely already in the Great Hall. It made it easy for me to hurry. Though more eerie. Like the stones could not hide its truth and history when no one echos off or blocks them.
Climbing down the main stairs, I shivered off the silence, rushing towards the noise of the already begun banquet.
“Lord Corlys,” I curtsied, doing my best to not appear out of breath.
“Lady Roseline.” The creases and wrinkles etching his face doubled when he smiled. It was a nice smile. Warm and welcoming. Like you were exactly who he wished to see. Possibly who Prince Aegon the Younger mirrored his own smile off of.
“I was sent to inform you that the prince and princess will be arriving momentarily.”
“And how were the intendeds?”
At me opening and closing my mouth like a fool, the Lord Hand’s head fell back with a laugh.
“That bad?” He asked between bursts of laughter, leaning hard on this ornate cane. Though I had never seen him without his cane, there was still a broadness to him that made it easy to picture how he once was, back during his time of great exploits and adventures. A physique so opposed to a role filled with so little active action. “I suppose it was foolish of us to hope for another Jaehaerys and Alysanne.” With an inhale, he straightened and more stoically added, “We shall pray instead that the sense of duty we tried to instill in them and their fear of losing more than they already have will prevent any further instability within our kingdom.”
“I shall ask the Crone to provide them guidance.”
Smiling, the Lord Hand patted my shoulder. “I shalln’t keep you from the festivities. Enjoy yourself.”
I was eager to join the laughter and joviality echoing beyond the doors. Not since the young prince was named heir the year prior had there been a celebration to this magnitude.
“Lady Roseline.”
I turned.
“I ask you stay near the princess during the celebrations. I believe your presence could help.”
Before I could answer, he turned to watch the stairs, ending our conversation.
Frowning, I fixed my dress, wishing it was just a smidge looser so I could breathe. What did he expect me to do? It was not like I kept a dagger on me. I was just one person against a horde of vindictive ghosts.
Clutching the brooch I had pinned at my chest, I let the sharp edges of its bee shape ground me before squaring my shoulders and entering the fray.
“Lady Roseline.” Lady Lianna linked her arm through mine, claiming me as others stepped out of our path. “And how is my cousin holding up?”
“Which one?”
“Oh?” The strand of silver hair she had purposely left free of the rest of her braids brushed against her smile when she tilted her head. “I did not realize you suddenly liked games. Am I to guess which of my cousins were with you and the lovely princess?”
“Seeing as you call most of your family ‘cousin,’ I fear you are making this more into a game that I am.”
“Hmm,” the lady pouted. Suddenly her mouth pulled into a smirk when she lifted her head. “Oh, perfect timing, cousin. I was just trying to get Lady Roseline to confess our other cousin’s state.” She had pulled me to a stop in front of Prince Maelor. He was lounging against one of the old kings’ pillars, drinking, obviously. Though he looked to be uninterested in the party surrounding him, there was the familiar gleam in his eye I had seen on occasion. Usually when Lady Lianna or her twin, Lady Aerea were around.
“Were you?” He raised one silver brow, watching her over the lip of his “special” chalice. This was only humored because he at least held his wine better than his father.
Twisting as much as I could within Lady Lianna’s grasp, I scanned the dias where the high table was situated. There the older Prince Aegon was already slumped in his chair, reaching for where a wine carafe sat just past his fingertips. Meanwhile his wife sat next to him. Poise. Unseeing. Like a doll set for a scene.
My arm was tugged, followed by, “Don’t you think, Lady Roseline?”
I turned back to face Lady Lianna. “I’m sorry, I was admiring the turn out and missed what you said.”
“It is a wonder you did not grow up here at court, you speak its language so fluently.” Her grip and her smile tightened even more when Maelor snorted.
“You’re just jealous, Li, that she does it better than you.”
“Am not,” she declared, finally dropping my arm.
Whatever silly, poorly feigned argument the two were about to enter into was interrupted by the horns.
“Rhaenerya, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,” the herald called out across the silence.
During my time at court I had heard many tales and songs from the queen’s youth about her beauty and vitality. Now she looked tired. Yet she wore her early wrinkles and tiredness and sadness as a knight wears his scars.
Curtsying as she passed, I caught the flutter of Lianna’s red skirts and the edge of Maelor’s cup out of the corner of my eye. The moment she passed, the two dove into the crowd to make their way to their table undetected.
I just lost sight of them when the horn trumpeted again.
“Prince Aegon, the heir to the Iron Throne and the Princess Jaehaera.”
A Targaryen alone is otherworldly. But a pair, especially this pair, inspired an awe-inducing silence. The prince was tall and lean with muscles just as his father was rumored to have been built. His nose and jaw sharp, like the pointed angles that typically adorned the Targaryen’s clothes. Even Jaehaera was forced into such a gown tonight, not her usual softer, rounder ones. It made her appear even more aloof. Like a self-assured goddess. A shiver racked through me as I joined the crowd in our bows and curtsies.
Hand demurely holding hand, as though they were a brave knight and a fair maiden from the songs, the prince and princess climbed the dais. Pausing on the step below where the queen waited, the iron throne rising behind her, the couple bowed. The queen extended a hand towards her son. Releasing Jaehaera to accept his mother, she brought him up where he then kissed her cheek. The process repeated when she extended a hand towards the princess. Finally the young couple stood to her one side, their arms linked. Him smiling, she looking serene, as the queen made her awaited announcement.
“My lords, ladies, and ever loyal countrymen, I thank you for all making the journey. Though I assume many were eager enough for a chance to show off their skill in the tourney if not to enjoy some fine wines amongst friends.”
“Here, here,” Maelor cried out, chalice held aloft, earning a wave of laughter from the crowd. The queen included.
“But before we begin to drink, or I assume continue for many of you,” Queen Rhaenyra joked, throwing a smirk towards her nephew, “allow me to share the true reason for all of us to raise a glass.” Facing the crowd, the queen smiled brighter than I had seen in all the years I had been at court. “I suppose many were not surprised to hear the news, however, humor me as we happily celebrate my son and heir’s marriage to the Princess Jaehaera on the morrow.” She turned her attention to the couple, “Following the union of two pillars within our family, I look forward to sharing the joy with all of you and the rest of the kingdom over the next week.” With a final smile and nod, the room echoed with cheers and banging on the table, many eager for the excess and entertainment the week promised to hold.
As the young couple followed their queen to their designated spots, I squirmed my way to mine. I was situated at the table right below the dais, amongst the other ladies-in-waiting. A few already turned on their benches to face a young nobleman or knight at the tables beside ours, their heads bent to hear. I meanwhile kept to my promise and watched the princess. Throughout the meal, Princess Jaehaera said no more than a baker’s dozen’s worth of words. She watched and listened to her family around her, but only conversed when directly asked.
Watching their table I wondered how no one had painted them like this yet. Someone should. What power they displayed at this moment. Seated above the rest of us, at a long table filled with an abundance of their blood, made more apparent with many possessing their signature silver locks.
Perhaps a knight or even a village could fight off a lone dragon, earning a song by the minstrels. But twenty? Impossible. Only a dragon could bring down another dragon. And fifteen years ago proved even that was difficult.
“Lady Roseline.” I twisted to discover Lord Manderly’s second son, Branton, had taken the open spot beside me. “It is lovely to —” Whatever he was about to say was lost to a sudden scream, followed by the clatter of hundreds of nobles standing.
Even when I stood, I was unable to see the princess.
“My lady.” Branton had seized my upper arm, halting my dash.
My mouth opened to tell him to let me go, but my heart had jumped up into my throat, making it impossible for words to wiggle their way past. Maybe it was for the best. If I could speak, perhaps my mouth would say what was repeating over and over in my mind. I had failed .