THE PRINCESS
Once upon a time, there lived a girl called Hana. Hana was the prettiest girl in the whole kingdom, and she wore fancy dresses with gold and silver necklaces and rings, and she had a pearl hairnet in her red hair. There was also another girl called Marya who was very pretty too, but not as pretty as Hana. When Hana and Marya were lit—
"Ah," Mama says. "Rhaenyra!"
From your place on the floor in the corner, right in the middle of a patch of sunlight, you see that 'Nyra has come. It's not nice to have your story interrupted, but 'Nyra's visits are always fun, so you don't mind. She is dressed the way she does when she goes to visit Syrax, which means she will smell funny and make Mama cross.
"You know I don't like you to go flying while I'm in this condition," Mama adds.
"You don't like me to go flying while you're in any condition."
Alicent, 'Nyra's best friend, stands in the doorway. She is very very pretty, you think, with red hair like Hana's and a blue dress that makes her look like a girl from one of the old stories you like to listen to. "Your Grace," she says, smiling.
"Good morrow, Alicent." Mama sighs. She sounds very tired. She has put her coat back on, even though it's so hot in the room and she's fanning herself to try and dry the sweat on her cheeks and her brow.
"Did you sleep?" 'Nyra asks.
Mama laughs, quick and soft. "I slept."
"How long?" 'Nyra takes a seat on the stool beside Mama's feet.
"I don't need mothering, Rhaenyra."
"Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants, all focused on the babe. Someone has to attend to you."
That is when Mama's eyes go to you. "I have my own right here, so there is no need to fear."
'Nyra turns to look, too. Her frown goes away and she smiles, wiggling her fingers at you to say 'hello'. Even though she's your sister and that means you love her, you don't go over to her. She is older, so she doesn't care very much about dolls or stories or little sisters who don't have dragons.
Mama keeps talking to 'Nyra while you listen. "You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra. This discomfort is how we serve the Realm." None of it makes sense, but you like the sound of their voices.
'Nyra makes a rude noise. "I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory."
Mama laughs. "We have royal wombs, you and your sister and I. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip."
Why would a child's bed be a battlefield? My bed is nice and big. And what is a stiff lip? Is it something that Maester Mellos should give his herbs for? Are there bones in a lip? Can those bones break like big bones can?
You have lots of questions, but you don't say what you're thinking out loud, of course. The Maester only said you could be in here if you were good, so you mustn't talk unless Mama asks you something or starts saying things to you.
"Now," Mama says to 'Nyra, "take a bath. You stink of dragon."
'Nyra stands up and bends down to kiss Mama on her head. Then, she comes over to you and gets on the floor so she can give you a hug and a kiss, and she is warm and smelly like Mama said she is. You like the smell, though, because it is what 'Nyra always smells like.
'Nyra leaves with Alicent, and for a while it is very calm. Mama takes a nap by closing her eyes and leaning with her head back, so you make sure to be very quiet when you continue telling yourself the story.
Once upon a time, there lived a girl called Hana. Hana was the prettiest girl in the whole kingdom, and she wore fancy dresses with gold and silver necklaces and rings, and she had a pearl hairnet in her red hair. There was also another girl called Marya who was very pretty too, but not as pretty as Hana. When Hana and Marya were little, they were best friends, and they played dolls and sang hymns and learned their letters together. But when they became older, they started to fight.
Marya was jealous of Hana. Lords from all over the kingdom wanted to marry her because of how pretty and how kind she was. That meant that not many lords wanted to marry Marya, even though she had lovely dark hair and knew all the names of the Houses and could sing even better than Hana did! So, Marya thought and thought about how she could make more lords want to marry her. She decided to hide all of Hana's nicest dresses and shiniest jewels.
Naughty, naughty Marya. That's not how proper ladies act. It was very nasty of you to—
"What are you and your ladies up to?"
You don't like being interrupted for a second time, but it is Mama who is asking. Everyone's been using soft voices since 'Nyra came to make a fuss and then left to wash the dragon-stink off. Mama's question is louder than them all, so it must be for you.
Turning your head, you see that she is looking at you with a small smile.
"Marya hid Hana's dresses and her best necklace and rings," you say, holding her up high so Mama can see. You frown at the doll. "She needs to say sorry, so I'm telling her to."
Mama laughs, but you don't know why. "Oh, dear. How unkind of her! Why did Marya do such a thing?"
"All the lords want to marry Hana," you say, "and not Marya. She's very angry, but—but it's not Hana's fault. So I'm going to tell her that, too."
"My, my." Mama looks tired, like she has ever since baby Baelon-or-Visenya started growing in her belly, but she still seems happy that you're here. Her eyes are warm the way they get when she sees you. "Quite a responsibility, you have."
You nod. "I'm her Mama, like you're mine. I have to teach her to be good."
This makes Mama smile even wider. She holds her hand out to you, so you put Marya down beside Hana, making sure they're not too close together. It would be bad if they started fighting after you've been busy telling Marya off so much. Making sure your skirts are neat like a proper lady, you go to take Mama's hand, letting her pull you close-close so that you have to get up onto the daybed with her. Her skin is hot like fire is when you get too near it.
"Are you going to teach your little brother or sister to be good, too?" she asks, bringing your hand to her belly. When you touch it, you feel the kicking. It's like a tapping from under a very thick blanket.
"Yes, Mama. I promise. I'll sing all the hymns so they learn them, and make sure they eat all their supper, and—and say 'no running' and 'no hitting' and give them lots of hugs and tell—tell them they are naughty if they don't liste—"
"Well," she says even louder, smiling so wide you can see her teeth, "you already sound like a wonderful big sister, my dearest."
Then, a new voice speaks out from the doorway, catching your interest. "Hakorje mandia kesā, sīlāvose."
It's one of your favourite people in the whole world.
You scramble out of Mama's hold, nearly tripping over your dress. "Kepus!"
He chuckles as you race toward him, arm out so that he can catch you and lift you up. Mama hasn't been able to do that since her belly became big, and Papa is too busy now. Oh, how you've missed it!
Uncle Daemon sits you on his hip so that you can stare straight at his face, at the way his eyes scrunch up with how much his mouth stretches. "What about you, Princess? Have you been a good girl since last I saw you?" he asks.
"I'm always good, kepus," you say, pushing out your bottom lip to show how rude you think his question is. "But—but you haven't. You're naughty. You've been gone for so, so, so long!"
Even though his brow raises, he sounds like he finds you funny. "Ah-ah. A moon's turn, nothing more or less, is all the time I've spent away. I was here for your name day celebrations, was I not?"
"That was ages ago!"
There were lots of people in the Keep for the party, and you don't think you really knew most of them. But, because Papa is King and you are a Princess, they were invited to come and wish you a happy name day and give you gifts and eat and drink lots. It was nice at first, but the more they ate and drank, the louder they got, and soon you had to sneak off and find Uncle so that he could take you back to your rooms where it was quiet. He sang a song in High Valyrian, the language that your House has spoken for thousands of years, so that you could fall asleep even after eating so many little frosted cakes. Soon, you had to say farewell to him because he had to go back to Runestone and visit his lady wife, the one he hate-hates but Mama says he has to see.
Thinking about High Valyrian makes you stop. You can't speak it, but there are some parts you know. Kicking Uncle in the side for being rude, you say, "And—and I'm not ann—annoying. I'm good!"
He looks sorry when you say that. "Of course you are. And I hope you'll forgive me for returning after such a long time." Behind his back where you can't see is his other arm. He brings it out, showing you what he was hiding in his hand.
Oh! A new doll! And this one is special because it has pale hair and purple eyes just like you!
"Please accept this as a token of my apology, sweetling," Uncle Daemon says, offering it to you. "Perhaps—Marya and Hana, was it?—could do with another friend."
"Thank you, kepus!" Keeping your new doll pinned between you and Uncle, you wrap your arms around his neck so so tight and squeeze so he can feel how happy you are! You kiss him on the cheek, wiggling very close and smiling when he squeezes you back just as tight. "Thank you, thank you! I missed you so much!"
"Silly girl."
Uncle pats you on the back once, twice, and then crouches down so that you can stand on your own two feet again. Sometimes, this makes you sad, because his hugs are your favourite and you wish they would never end. But he has to say 'hello' to Mama, too. Besides, you have a new lady to introduce!
"How about you play," he says, "while I speak with Mama?"
"Okay!" You're already thinking about it anyway.
When you go back to Marya and Hana, you can see that they've been good girls and not moved at all. You rearrange them both so that they are sitting, and place your new doll—Alysanne, you decide, after Papa and Uncle's grandmama—between them, fussing with their hair so that it lies neatly. They are very pretty, you think, red and dark and silver all together.
"And how is Lady Rhea?" Mama is asking, brow lifting.
Uncle makes a noise and curls his lip meanly. "Who the fuck—who cares?" he says, rolling his eyes when you gasp. He said a bad word. "It's not as though we spent any time in each other's presence. Think I'd rather the company of sheep, anyway."
"You were there for an entire moon's turn, Daemon"—Mama frowns the way she does when 'Nyra says something rude, and 'Nyra does that a lot—"and you refused to even speak with her? She's your wife."
"Not one I chose. You would know that all too well, cousin."
Mama goes quiet, looking to you. Uncle does, too. Then, she starts whispering to Uncle, and Uncle whispers back, and you return to your game.
Dolls make far more sense than people do.
You don't like tourneys. You don't like them at all.
It's loud, and hot, and there are too many smells—of different perfumes all swirling around and clogging in your nose, of dirt and manure from the ground below, of something sharp that clings to the walls that box you in and shield you from being able to see anything interesting. The horns ring out and so many people cheer that it feels like a buzzing in your head. It makes your teeth hurt.
"Be welcome!"
Papa looks happy today, so much happier than he was the last time Mama said a babe was in her belly. That babe was dead, she told you. It went away from inside her and never came back. That's what death is, and everyone is very, very afraid of it all the time. But you didn't know that babe like you know Mama and Papa and 'Nyra and Uncle, so you weren't sad or scared. You wonder if this babe will go away, too.
The sound of clapping is like thunder. "I know many of you have travelled long leagues to be at these games," he says. "But I promise, you will not be disappointed."
You watch from beside Papa as 'Nyra sneaks to her seat, but she is not so sneaky because she is wearing a bright red dress that looks beautiful. She sits beside Alicent, her friend and Lord Hightower's daughter, and tries to make herself small in her chair so that Papa won't get angry.
After a pause, he keeps speaking. "When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share—Queen Aemma has begun her labours!"
There is so much noise that you have to hold your hands over your ears to quiet it just a little bit. Brella pats your shoulder, trying to make you feel better.
"It's alright, Princess. We can play in just a moment—how about that?"
"I want Mama," you say sadly, your bottom lip wobbling and your eyes feeling hot like they do when you really want to cry.
Mama has been locked in her chambers since last evening, when the Maester said the babe was nearly ready to come out. You asked and asked Papa, but he wouldn't let you in to see her. When the door had opened and you tried to go inside, you were too surprised to move at the sound of her yelling. You think that the babe must have been hurting her very, very much. It makes you afraid. But then, Uncle took you away to your rooms and read you a story in High Valyrian, which sounded nice even though you didn't understand it all.
"May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!" You are not listening to Papa's words very closely.
"Soon, Princess," Brella says, stopping for a moment when the horns echo out again. "You must wait for the babe to be born, first. How exciting—a new little brother, all for you!"
You don't want a brother if it means that Mama has to be in pain. Papa would be very happy—you are three whole name days but you still know he wants the babe to be a boy and not a girl, that you were supposed to be a boy and he was sad you were only a second daughter—but you are happy with the way things are.
It would be very rude to say so in front of Papa, so you keep quiet and nod, letting your nursemaid bring you off your seat and down to the floor so that you may sit amongst Alysanne and Hana and Marya.
It has been very difficult to teach Marya to be nice to Alysanne, because she doesn't like it when Hana makes new friends and Alysanne is a very pretty new friend. But she has decided she rather likes Alysanne after all, and so you can serve their tea without being scared of anyone being silly or bad to each other. Brella is very helpful in braiding Marya's hair to look like 'Nyra's does, and then she pins Hana's back like Alicent's. You decide that Alysanne should have hair that looks like yours because you look nearly the same, like she is your baby and you are her mama.
You are interrupted very quickly when Septa Marlow bends forward to speak straight into Brella's ear. "It is unseemly to coddle her so. She is nearing the end of her infancy—you ought to be preparing her to pass over into my care, not indulging in frivolities!"
You shiver. Septa Marlow is mean. The last time that 'Nyra said something rude to her, she was rapped across the palm by Septa's willow switch. It left a bright red mark that made you cry when you saw it, but 'Nyra only muttered something nasty under her breath and smiled in a not-very-kind way. You wish you could be as brave as her.
"When she is five summers old, she will pass into your care," Brella says. It is polite, but the way she looks at Septa makes you think she is not being so nice after all. "Until then, I shall do as I see fit. And that means allowing the Princess to indulge in these frivolities while she can."
Septa wants to say something rude back, you can tell—but then, the whispers start. It makes you look out onto the field so that you can see what's happening.
"... of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!"
Uncle rides out on his horse—a great stallion named Varlet that you sometimes give apples to if he is very, very good and doesn't buck anyone out of the saddle—wearing his nicest armour with the tail of feathers that comes out of the helmet. You think it makes him look a bit like a bird from one of those old books in the library. Uncle takes Varlet up and down the line of men on their own horses, but you don't know why. You cannot see his face.
Your dolls don't seem very exciting anymore. You pass them back to Brella and move past Papa to where 'Nyra sits at the very front. Even though there is an empty seat next to Alicent, you go to 'Nyra anyway.
All you have to do is hold up your arms to her and she smiles. "Do you want to see Uncle's bout?" she asks.
"Yeah," you say, nodding. You can hear the sound of hooves on the dirt, which means you are missing it, so you stamp your feet and wiggle. Maybe she will hurry up if you do. "Please, please!"
"Oh, alright." She rolls her eyes and lifts you up so that you can sit on her lap, tucking her head next to yours and wrapping her arms tight around you so you don't fall off. She is warm like Caraxes and Syrax are, like a dragon, only this time she doesn't smell like smoke and rotting meat but like flowers and soap. "Can you see?"
You look down. Uncle is at one end of the field and the man he has chosen—Ser Gwayne, you think, from the green he has on and the funny shape of his helmet, like a tower—on the other, their jousting poles held out in front of them. "I can see," you say.
When Uncle and Ser Gwayne start riding, you really do try to keep your eyes open. But, as they get closer and closer, you cannot help but shut them because you don't want to see anyone get hurt, or worse—the horses. Sometimes, it happens. All you can see is the insides of your eyelids when a big CLANG happens, but 'Nyra doesn't clap so you think it might not be finished yet. Then, you hear a horse neigh and a big thud, and lots of applause. This time, 'Nyra does clap, so you open your eyes and see that Uncle is still on Varlet but Ser Gwayne is on the ground.
Your sister stops clapping when she sees Alicent with her hand over her mouth. Ser Gwayne is her brother, so she must be very worried for him. You reach out and pat her arm, which makes her stop and stare at you for a moment before giving you a small smile. 'Nyra grabs at her hand, too, which seems to help.
Uncle brings Varlet right up to the balcony with his jousting pole all the way up high, so 'Nyra puts you down and grips your shoulder to steer you forward. You are still very small, so the railing is too tall for you to reach, and that means you could fall very easily if you lean too far down. You grab onto your sister's skirts.
"Nicely done, Uncle," she says, holding onto the rail.
"Thank you, Princess." Uncle looks at you, and his face changes—he is friendly now where he wasn't exactly when he was looking at 'Nyra. He doesn't say anything to you, but he does wink, which makes you giggle and him smile. He turns to Alicent. "Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favour would all but assure it."
She goes toward the table where two wreaths lay, one for her and one for 'Nyra. You are not old enough for your own yet, or so Papa says. Taking the green one in her fingers, she comes back to the balcony. Instead of putting the wreath on the jousting pole, though, she holds it out to you. "Perhaps your niece would like to give you my favour?"
Beaming, you accept the wreath and let Alicent pick you up under the arms. It doesn't feel very nice, but it makes you tall enough to put the favour over the pole and watch it slide all the way down to the bottom, near where Uncle is holding it. He grins, then rides away to have another bout.
'Nyra takes you back to where she was sitting, placing you back on her knee. "Are you going to thank Alicent? She was very nice, letting you give Uncle her favour."
"Thank you, Alicent," you say.
She brushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "You're welcome, Princess."
You find it strange when Papa rises from his chair after something Lord Hightower says in his ear, a troubled look on his face. He was the one who had been the most excited about the tourney, so why is he getting up to leave?
'Nyra doesn't notice, holding tight to you when you start squirming. For a while, you stay with her—but the jousting starts to get frightening. When the knights knock each other off their horses, they start using swords and axes and maces and trying to really hurt each other, striking and kicking so hard that it makes your heart race really fast in your chest and your belly rock like it does when you need to be sick. To take your mind off it, you start listening to Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys talking to each other.
"...and we expect them to act with honour and grace," the Princess is saying to her husband. The sound of her voice makes you shiver a little. Whenever she stares at you, it is unkind. You don't think she likes you very much. "It's a marvel that war didn't break out at first blood."
Everyone gasps when the knight below brings his axe down on the man below him, hitting him over and over so that blood sprays everywhere. The man twitches at first, then goes still, the dirt below him turning dark red very quickly.
You cry and cry, loud and ugly. You don't like it here anymore. You want to go back to the Keep and find Mama and let her hug you until this cold, awful feeling goes away and warmth and happiness comes back.
"Nurse!" 'Nyra says, but you aren't really listening. You can see that people are pointing at you from the stands and whispering, which makes you even more upset because you truly tried to be good and quiet and not make a fuss this time.
"Oh, Princess." Brella lifts you off of 'Nyra's lap and carries you to the back of the royal box, past Papa's Councilmen and all the lords and ladies that are gathered, heading toward the stairs. "Come now, my sweet. Time for a nap, don't you think?"
"I want Mama," is all you can say. "I want my mama!"
It is darker than normal when you wake up from your nap. Usually, the sun is still up, the colour of Papa's crown as it shines through your window, hot and blinding even though supper is not far away. But now, you have to blink a few times before you realise that you cannot see because night has come.
Your chambers are empty, save one other.
"Papa?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning. You can just barely see him through the shadows. "What—what—"
There is a sharp clack and a fizzle of orange fire, which Papa cups in his hand and takes to the candle beside your bed. As he lights a small flame, you look at his face. Even in the darkness, you can see how sad he is, the shine that forms lines down his cheeks and the red puff of the skin around his eyes.
Oh, no. Something bad has happened. Something... something terrible.
"Whe—where's Mama?" you ask, voice wobbly. It feels like a hand has reached down through your throat and your stomach to peel your insides out, to turn it all over so that you're bleeding and broken where the Maester cannot see. "Mama—"
"Sh, my girl." He is trying to sound soft and kind, but you hear how he cracks a little, how the words seem almost stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Listen to me. Come here."
You still don't know why it is, but the rule of life is that you obey 'Nyra who obeys Mama who obeys Papa, which means that you have to obey Mama and Papa even when the others aren't there. So, when Papa asks you to do something, you have to listen. You're a good girl, after all.
Kicking away the covers that have made you too-too warm, you crawl on your hands and knees to the edge of the bed where Papa sits. He is solid and real under your fingers, smelling like the Maester's medicines as always, but also like something sour. Like metal.
He grabs you and puts you on his knee like 'Nyra did before, during the tourney, only the hand on your back is large-large, almost covering from your neck to your bottom. You can feel his thumb moving up and down as he speaks, up and down, up and down.
"Something... something has happened. To Mama," he says, taking lots of pauses and shaking under you like he is cold. You reach up to pat his face. Your hand comes away wet.
"Is she okay?" you ask. That horrible feeling comes back, and you have to swallow so that you don't get sick all over Papa. "Where is Mama?"
"Mama... she couldn't bring the babe out. A boy—Baelon." This time, you can hear him cry, but it's quick, not long and loud like yours.
A brother. I have a baby brother. It doesn't feel very special or interesting. Maybe meeting the babe will make you more excited?
"Where is he?"
Papa cries more. "He... he lived for three hours. Three. Then he—"
"—died." That's the word for when someone goes through death. Papa didn't look like he could say it, but you can. "Sorry," you tell him quietly. You know how much he wanted a boy. "Mama must be sad, too."
"She—she—Mama didn't survive the birth."
You frown. What does that mean? "So... she is sick?"
Papa shakes his head, eyes scrunching. "No."
"Where is she, then? I want to say 'sorry' to her, too."
"She—died. She's dead, my girl. Only, she passed before Baelon."
You have to stop and really think, think so hard that your head hurts and you feel dizzy from holding your breath. Being dead means going away and never coming back. Mama is dead. Which means...
After Papa says those terrible, awful, horrible words, he pushes his nose into your hair and hugs you so so tight until you feel his tears sliding over your head. You hug him back, pressing your face to his chest and letting his shirt soak up all the crying from your eyes. You don't know if you understand it all—but you know one thing for certain, one thing that makes you cold and sick and afraid.
Mama went away. Mama will never come back.
Mama is gone.