The Golden Dragon

Chapter II

It was the clatter of horses' hooves and the loud murmurs of servants that cut through the crisp morning silence that woke Dyanna.

She groaned and rolled over in her bed, wanting to pull her heavy silken covers over her head and drowned herself in pillows. It had been almost six weeks since her sister and brother had been betrothed and the people living in the Red Keep had been in a state of constant movement. 

The servants were panicking, running around like headless chickens, running back and forth and preparing for a royal progress around Westeros, cleaning the castle, and carrying out orders of the lords and ladies of the court. 

Just because Dyanna was a princess didn't mean that people left her alone. Instead of being able to walk in the gardens and city she was stuck standing in front of a mirror getting stabbed by needles and lectured by her mother on "proper" etiquette.

Her door was pushed open and her mother swept in, making Dyanna groan in frustration. 

"Dyanna, wake up!" Shaera's sharp voice snapped. She was already stressed out enough and she didn't need her daughter to jump on top of the pile of things she needed to do before they left.

"Noooo," Dyanna protested, burying herself into her blankets.

"Get. Up." Shaera snapped, her patience running low quickly.

"Five more minuets." Her daughter's muffled voice sent her over the edge and she stormed to her daughter's bedside.

"Oh for gods sake, you're not ten years old anymore! Start acting like a woman!" She scolded.

"No," Dyanna said stubbornly, making her growl.

Shaera ripped her daughter's covers off as she snapped, "Nan has already helped your sister bathe. Now get up and get ready for the day. We're leaving soon."

She looked down at her daughter, who was sprawled across the mattress, snoring loudly just to anger her mother. Her right eye twitched and Shaera stormed to the table and grabbed a pitcher of water and returned to her daughter's side.

"Here, this should give you a head start." Dyanna let out a squawk of rage as the cool content of the pitcher splashed onto her face before nearly falling out of her bed.

"Mother!"

Twenty minuets later, Dyanna stood in front of the dressing room mirror. Her arms were stuck out on both sides as seamstresses shoved her into a dress

 "Please stop fidgeting, Princess," one of them murmured as one of her maids slipped a silver pin into her hair.

"Ow!" Dyanna whipped around to glare at the maid, who blushed and quickly readjusted the pin.

"Sorry, Princess," she squeaked and Dyanna sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"It's fine, let's just get this over with," she grumbled, turning back to the mirror.

She was dressed in an off the shoulder black and red dress, its sleeves stoping at her wrists. There was a panel of gold cloth that was stitched under her overskirt, so if she walked around it one could see flashes of gold. The top of her overskirt was a deep black with the red Targaryen sigil and dragons stitched into the fabric. Her silver-gold hair had been combed into submission and was pulled up into an intricate bun, held in place by the pin that had stabbed Dyanna's scalp.

Dyanna sighed and rolled her neck as a girl strapped a string of delicate golden leaves and pearls around her throat. It was heavy and she knew that before they left the city that her neck would be aching.

"All done, Princess," woman said, pulling away and bowing before nodding to the other women around her as they packed up and rushed out of her room before Dyanna could even say thank you.