Fire And Blood

A Place Of Dark Magic And Sacrifices

Rhaenys IX

"Thank you, Feraya," Rhaenys said after the young handmaiden finished brushing her hair.

Feraya nodded with a smile. "O-of course, You Grace."

Chuckling, Rhaenys turned in her chair to face the young girl, her legs dangling off the armrests while she placed her arms on its back and rested her chin on her arms. "'Your'. Not 'you'. But your mother was right: you are, indeed, a quick learner."

Feraya was beaming now. "Thank you, You – Your Grace!"

"How are you getting along with Minela?" Rhaenys asked as she threw one leg over the other.

"She is nice," Feraya said while putting the brush away, "but she is sad a lot. And she has bad dreams a lot. She wants to hold me when she sleeps."

Rhaenys sighed, her brows furrowed. "Is she getting better? At All?"

Her handmaiden shook her head. "No, Your Grace. Maybe a little bit."

"I understand. Thank you." She got up from her chair and pulled Feraya into her arms, startling the young girl visibly. "Thank you for helping Minela. I am proud of you." Rhaenys then broke their embrace, her little handmaiden red in her face and with a shy smile.

"Th-thank you, Your Grace…"

"You are welcome. And dismissed, for now. Go and break your fast."

With a bow, Feraya left and closed the door behind her and left Rhaenys alone to her thoughts.

Sometimes she wondered if Minela living in this manse with them was just another cruelty on top of cruelties for the former slave. Living here and seeing the life she had suffered through, but from the perspective of comfort, could not be easy. Had it been a mistake to live here? Did their good intentions lead to more pain for Minela?

She glanced at the armour, beautifully crafted and polished. An expensive gift. A gift fit for a Targaryen king. Aegon had also replaced her uncle's gift – the sword he had bought in Braavos – with his new Valyrian steel sword. All these wonderful and priceless gifts they had accepted from slave owners did not make them any less tainted. Not at all. But it had been a necessary mummery. Allowing those terrible people to try and get in their good graces with coin, finery, gems, statues, Qohorik armour and a Valyrian steel sword had been necessary as they now had the means to proceed with the next steps of achieving their goals.

She thought of Minela again. Hopefully, the poor girl would not think them cruel. After all, they wanted to help. They wanted to help her and many more like her. Some would say that it was a foolish dream, a child's dream, but it was more than that. It was a dream of a better world, a dream where a child would not be taken from its mother's breast to be put in chains.

She hoped Minela would see that when the time came.

-

They had not had the opportunity yet to see much of the city since their arrival. Accompanied by her uncle and, much to her annoyance, Ser Barristan, they decided to take the time to do so, for once.

The houses were tightly packed together, framing narrow streets paved with brick stone. Roofs, shaped somewhere between onions and domes, were visible in the distance, towering over the other buildings. She assumed they might belong to the goat-god's temple. The colours did not differ much, after all. Those roofs were all coloured like sand, with shades of red and yellow thrown in.

They took a leisurely stroll through the city, taking their time to marvel at the sights and observe its people. It was no difficult task to distinguish the commoners from the nobles and it was easy to see where the smallfolk settled and where the rich folk lived. Tychor's manse was located in an area where many other smaller nobles established their homes. While nowhere near as huge as the magister's manse, their houses were still made of the same polished stone with trees and flowers decorating the entrances she had seen. What stood out most, however, were the slaves. It was always the slaves that made one's status obvious the most.