Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, Lady of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royc...
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Arianwyn was woken the following morning not by Brynna, but by her half-sister Rhaena, who had snuck into her rooms to lay a gown at the foot of her bed. Unfortunately, Arianwyn was so unsettled by her father's threats from the night before that even the gentle sound of fabric on fabric startled her from sleep.
"I'm sorry," Rhaena said, wincing when Arianwyn burst awake and scrambled out of bed, banging her knees against the stone floor. "I didn't mean to wake you. Rhaenyra asked that I bring this dress for you to wear today, and I couldn't find Brynna."
With her heart still pounding, Arianwyn shook her head. "It's fine. I... I was having a bad dream."
"Do you like it?"
"Like what?"
"The dress."
"Oh," Arianwyn had, in truth, been so startled that she hardly processed Rhaena's words, much less see what she was holding. Then, pulling the sleeve of her nightgown back over her shoulder, she stepped to the end of the bed to examine the dress.
It was one she recognized – a red gown with open, flowing sleeves and gold wrist cuffs. Rhaenyra had favored it when her children were young, but Arianwyn thought it had been retired when the brocade had begun to fray. Indeed, when she looked closely, she could see where hasty repairs had been made. But, from a distance, it looked as beautiful as ever.
"She wants me to wear this?"
Her half-sister smiled, holding the gown up to try and see how it would look. "Isn't it sweet of her?"
Arianwyn grimaced. As she had sent a message to the court with her gown yesterday, Rhaenyra would do the same today. To clothe her in a dress that once belonged to the princess would indeed create the image of a united family that Rhaenyra desired to present to the court.
Rhaena was still waiting for an answer, but Arianwyn could not say anything she knew her sister wanted to hear.
"Red doesn't suit me," she said instead. Not an agreement, but also not an insult.
"Well, I think it will look beautiful on you," Rhaena chirped, far happier than Arianwyn had ever been so soon after waking. "May I help you dress, or shall I find Brynna?"
Begrudgingly amused by her sister's unrelenting cheer, Arianwyn smiled and nodded. "I think Brynna would appreciate a morning to rest."
Rhaena immediately set to work, beginning with her hair. Having been born with even thicker curls than Arianwyn, she had become quite an expert in caring for wily hair. And while she tried very hard to convince Arianwyn to let her use a new braiding technique she had learned, she eventually relented to her desire to wear her hair unbound.
Arianwyn's warming mood waned when she donned the dress. It was far from a perfect fit. Her well-developed curves were apparently inherited from the Royce line rather than her father's blood, for the gown strained around her chest and hips but hung loosely over her waist.
