A Song of Ash and Smoke | a continuation of A Song of Ice and Fire

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐯𝐞

The mouse squeaked maniacally as Genyveve held its thin pink tail pinched between her foremost two fingers. She squinted, peering closer at the squirming creature. It had grey fur streaked with tan and white. A dot of red crowned on one of its paws. After studying the paw a moment, Gen reached forward with her other hand and gently brushed the tiniest shard of glass from between its digits. The paw curled, testing, before the mouse began to wriggle more frantically. Gen dropped it, and it ran off, on all four feet. She'd found it limping before. Footsteps appeared from behind her. Gasping, Gen ducked under a nearby chair.

It was some ladies of the court, whispering into each other's ears and giggling with delight. Gen often wandered the castle, albeit rather sneakily. Nobody really looked out for a cook's daughter, even if her father was the master cook. Her mother was the palace dressmaker. Gen found that boring. She did not like needles, and sewing made her fingers welt. She had little interest in cooking either. The kitchen was too hot. Gen would go with her mother to the parlor each morning, and as soon as her mother became busy with some sniveling lady Gen would sneak off to explore. She knew every inch of the castle by heart.

Gen leaned in to catch the hushed conversation the women were having, tugging at the ends of her braid.

"The fires," one lady, dressed in cream, was saying. "My lord husband says they've nearly reached Sunspear."

"So long as they stay there," another, in maroon, said haughtily and they all laughed.

The cream lady's facial expression was not pleased, but she remained quiet and smiled politely anyway.

Fires, Genyveve thought. What fires?

She had little time to wonder, though, as a hand latched onto her ankle.

"Out you come," ordered the fat scullery maid, yanking on Gen's foot. Gen battled her hand away and crawled out from beneath the chair, scowling.

The maid chittered and shook her head. "And off with you, little miss. Your parents must be wondering where you are."

Gen walked sullenly out of the receiving room, making her way back towards the kitchens. The halls of the castle were so bright. When the castle was reconstructed after the Great War, King Bran asked that more windows be added. Gen's Pa said he never explained why. Ornate oiled paintings lined the sandy colored stones of the walls opposite the windows. They were history. Bran the Builder building the wall. Aegon the Conqueror riding his dragon with his two wives. Rhaenyra Targaryen being burnt by her dragon. Aerys the Mad King with a red smile on his throat. The death of the Night King.

These had also been commissioned by the King. Gen's Pa thought it to be visionary, while her mother found it morbid. History was rarely less than morbid, Gen thought.

"Genyveve." Rowana had found her.

Her sister was making her way down the hallway towards Gen. She was dressed as usual, in the loose-fitting turquoise silks of a handmaiden. A wide golden collar clasped around her throat, with a belt around her waist to match. Her pale yellow hair always remained neatly braided down her back. Her wide brown eyes were narrowed.

"Gen, I've been looking everywhere for you," Rowana scolded as she neared. Gen balked.

Rowana took Gen by the arm and began to walk with her, side by side. "It's been decided by King Bran that you will be handmaiden to the Hand's daughter."

"You're handmaiden to the Hand's daughter," Gen retorted, her face contorted with confusion.

"You'll need to learn from somewhere," Row quipped, turning to face Gen. "But in reality, I'm growing older. I don't want to be an old hen."

Genyveve wanted to melt into the floor and leave the hall. She did not want to be some lady's maid, she did not want to wear some stupid silk dress, and she could care less about becoming an old hen. She looked away, her eyes dull with boredom. Row grabbed her chin. She was going on and on and on. Gen let the words slide in one ear and out of the other. Finally, Rowana stopped talking and began dragging her down the hallway to the servants' quarters.

"I am going to teach you how to observe the proper protocols before Lady Jae returns," she explained as she did. "You and I will be spending every day of the next moon preparing and then every day after that until I find a husband."

She bathed Gen when they returned to their quarters soon after, a small apartment with three rooms. One to sleep in, one to eat in, and one to make water in. A small iron tub sat under the window near a lumpy cotton bed. Oftentimes, Gen would sleep in the bed with her parents, Row off to the side on a makeshift cot she'd fashioned, and their twin sisters in a nest of linens on the floor. Her oldest sister used to sometimes sleep in the bed, too, until she married. Genyveve thought of her, Primrose, as Rowana scrubbed her skin raw with the cold water and an itchy rag.

"Being a lady's handmaiden is an important role, Genyveve," she was saying. "I know you don't think so now, but you will be secure and provided for. It is a role any young lady should want for, and they do."

It was later that night that Gen felt truly free, as she raced through the wind in her dreams. As she often did, she dreamed she was a bird sailing through the night sky. Green trees dotted the ground below her, then turned to the rippling golden fields of Sunspear. The stench of smoke choked Genyveve's nostrils as she drew closer to them. Crackling filled the air. Gen could not see the fire. Then she heard a sound she'd never heard before, a terrifying and magnificent shriek in the distance. As she looked up in the direction the sound came from, a rain of fire poured out of the sky. Genyveve flew away from the fire, racing towards the sound. She soared up, up above the clouds, where the sky was calm. For a moment, the air was still. Gen appreciated the indigo hues of it. She appreciated the faint stars that hung above her head. The moon bathed her in its glow.

Then the clouds broke and a great beast shot straight up, crying out as it did. It had a large horned head, and glimmering white scales with tips of gold. It was small for a dragon, at least from what Gen had read in books. Still, it was easily the size of a large horse. Gen was close enough to see its eyes flash gold as well. The dragon posed over the clouds, flapping its great wings. The clouds formed a perfect circle where the beast had broken through.

Then the dragon dove down again and lit the sky on fire.

Chasing after it, Gen watched as it fixated on a field of cattle and dropped down to them, straight as an arrow. It released fire in its next breath and then it was swooping back up, a burnt cow in its claw. Gen could hear other shrieks in the distance, as if they were calling their brethren home. The white dragon turned to fly back towards the calls. Genyveve could feel the gust of wind produced by its great leathery wings. Then it was off, circling lazily back to the source of the noise and Gen was alone in the still night once more.