Chapter Text
Maiden's day. As far as Westerosi holidays went, Daeny tolerated it. It was a day she both looked forward to and dreaded.
The mornings are always spent in the sept. Mothers, whores and widows are barred from the sept along with men. The only ones allowed were, of course, maidens. The other girls lit tall white candles at the feet of The Maiden's statue, singing songs about how pure and innocent they were. Daeny didn't sing.
It's not that she had any less right, she just didn't want to. Daenerys did though. Daenerys always had the prettiest song.
Daeny's ladies in waiting were with Daenerys and hers, while Daeny herself sat closer to the back with her friend, Arla, who belonged to the silent sisters.
She used to love the sept. She came there so often as a child with her mother... But she stood out too much, even in her most modest dress. 'Well', you might say, 'just dress like the other ladies do...' as if. She had appearances to keep up. As asphyxiating as those appearances could be.
With her hands folded neatly in front of her Daeny turned her eyes to the ceiling. From the glass dome hung a bunch of crystals that reflected rainbows from the light that came in through the tall windows. Incense hung in the air, sweet, and thick enough to choke on.
She couldn't wait for this to be over. She couldn't wait to get back to her chambers and changed into her dress for the tournament. Her and Daenerys would be wearing matching dresses. She'd picked all the fabrics herself. She had stenciled and embroidered the details as well. Daenerys wasn't one for wigs but Daeny had made sure her wig and Daenerys' hair ribbons were dyed the same shade.
She. Could. Not. Wait.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't get excited yet. She'd been reminding herself that for the past two moons. But she could feel it. This was her year. She just knew, this year she'd be crowned The Queen of Love and Beauty. She hoped those competing actually put some thought into the crowns they made. She had certainly put quite a lot of thought into the favors she'd crafted. Baby's breath, light pink valley lilies and bishop's lace with pink and blue ribbon. Her favorites. Typically, it was only her nephews that asked for her favor... But this year there'd be a line of knights wanting her favor, she was sure of it. She was prepared. She'd stayed up all night making her favors. She wanted them to be durable. She'd been practicing two moons, weaving the flowers and ribbons together in a way that hid a thin strip of jeweler's wire inside. She was sure of her skill. Why wouldn't she be? She'd been making them for six years already.