For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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S E V E N
Love is just a history that they may prove ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The servants spent nigh an hour working on Daella, fiercely scrubbing the filth from her body and the dye from her hair. At first, Daella found it thoroughly awkward, having multiple pairs of hands on her body, but after a while, she reluctantly gave in and tried to relax as well as she could. The water was cold and Daella's skin red by the time the maids told her to get out of the bath. While two of the girls started braiding her hair to the side, another pulled a red gown over her head and worked on the lacing.
When they were done, Daella felt like she was born anew, her skin glowing and her hair its natural colour. Walking away from the servants, she stared long and hard into the polished plate that served as a mirror. Never before had she seen her entire hair the Targaryen white colour it naturally was, only the roots every now and then, when she was late with dyeing. Daella found that this colour made her face softer and younger while at the same time it emphasized the hidden violet tint in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and gave the maids a nod, the three of them scurrying out of her bathroom and chambers. Daella followed after them, a short shriek escaping her mouth at the sight of someone sitting on her bed.
"Bronze and silver will be commanded by the true heir," Helaena said, looking up at Daella with wide eyes.
Pressing her hand against her chest, right over the place of her erratically beating heart, Daella forced a smile to come to her face at the sight of her aunt. Though Daella had no doubt that she was a sweet woman, she also had no idea what she was talking about. "I do not believe we have been properly introduced," she said. "I am Daella Targaryen."
"I know, you are my niece," Helaena said seriously. Then, all of a sudden, a dashing and genuine smile came to her mouth and she jumped up from the bed. Grabbing the edges of her gown, she curtsied. "I am Helaena Targaryen."
Daella smiled, not entirely sure why her aunt was in her room, but not particularly minding it either. The water had given her new energy and together with the thought of being in Kingslanding, the castle of it to be specific, surrounded by the people her mother so desperately had tried to protect her from, made it so that her longing for sleep had long passed.
"White looks better on you than brown," Helaena said, reaching out and grabbing a strand of white hair from Daella's shoulder. She moved the hairs between her fingers, as though she was trying to determine something, before letting go abruptly again. "The maids should have used oil after scrubbing for so long."
Daella grabbed her own hair and came to the same conclusion, her hair did indeed feel a little dry. She let out an affirmative hum. "You are completely right," she said. "I will do it myself in a bit, I suppose."
