[ in king's landing, genya had felt like a servant at best, and a slave at worst. she had shadowed queen cersei since she'd been ten years old — little red priestess had king robert called her, gifted and blessed beyond measure. and he'd ensured that her gifts only served the crown, not r'hllor. not only did she have the gift of glamour from childhood, she could also bless others with it; she erased the signs of aging from the queen, made her golden hair full and luscious. she came when called, and the other servants called her the queen's pet, whispered under their breath when she walked past, cast meaningful looks when the king praised her and looked at her for too long.
when the queen had called her to her rooms, one night, and laid out hr plan, genya hadn't even thought to refuse. yes, king robert would die. yes, she would be the one to ensure he would never make it back from his hunt.
she had thought it would make a difference.
she had been wrong. king joffrey.... king joffrey was worse. she had tried to save the girls lord baelish brought him, and she had suffered. the scars underneath her glamour told the tale of what it meant to betray the king.
the first time she had lifted the glamour had been when she had crossed the sea, leaving the palace under the cover of night, aiming to find someone she could bear seeing on the iron throne. someone good. someone who was meant to rule. and when she had finally, finally made it, when she had met the dragon queen for the first time... when she had been asked why, genya had lifted the glamour and stood there, scars marring her beautiful face, one eye staring into nothing, and said the lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts.
in king's landing, she had felt like a servant. with daenerys, she felt like a soldier. ]
You sent for me? [ it is dark, now, as genya makes her way through the corridors to her queen's side. she should be asleep, but so should her queen. ]
[It's always made Daenerys' stomach turn to think of the Usurper sitting upon the Iron Throne. It seemed to her from all that she heard from across the Narrow Sea the people suffered underneath Robert Baratheon. Rather than the cruelty and fear her father had exacted upon the people of Westeros, it had been from his negligence, but it was suffering all the same. It was not what Rhaegar would have brought to the kingdom with his kindness and nobility. Under his rule, the realm might have had the opportunity to heal. Perhaps even flourish.]
[But Rhaegar was gone and the Targaryen dynasty had been unseated by a small, weak man. And the people suffered, only to suffer more with the Usurper's passing. Yet, Daenerys did not truly know the extent of the boy king's cruelty until she met Genya. She had only heard faint whispers of his temper, of his pride and unearned arrogance. These things only spoke of a child playing at being an adult. The unease with which the Seven Kingdoms regarded him and challenged his claim to the throne seemed to be merely a question of his competency more than anything.]
[And then she saw the scars.]
[When Genya revealed her scars, Daenerys wanted to look away. All the violence she had witnessed to that point had never been like that. As ugly as the truth of warfare and conquest had been, and all the horrors the slavemasters had been willing to enact in an attempt to intimidate her, there was something about the exacting nature of the violence done to Genya that made Daenerys' blood run cold.]
[But she did not look away. Daenerys' hands curled into tight fists in her hand, leaving half-moon impressions on her palms for a time. She ignored the concern she felt emanating from the old bear just behind her and the glance from Ser Barristan. She looked hard into the eye that stared into nothing instead. She etched into her memory every line, every rough piece of skin so that she would not forget even when tempted to by Genya's glamour. And then she promised Genya that she would provide her with justice.]
Yes, [Daenerys turns away from her view of the city of Meereen. Troubled as she is, Meereen is not what keeps Daenerys awake this night.] Please, sit.
[She keeps her back straight, folding her hands neatly in front of herself. Although she steps away from the balcony and closer to the small table, Daenerys herself does not sit. It seems in poor taste to say these words to Genya while seated.]
I received news earlier today. From across the sea. [Subtly, her fingers fidget slightly from where they are interlaced in front of her. Try as she might to put out as much of a queenly aura, she is nervous to tell Genya what she has heard. She had, after all, made a promise and now she must say that she cannot keep it. Daenerys draws a breath and then plainly says it.] Joffrey Baratheon is dead.
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treehousing2021-04-27 07:50 pm
yeeee
when the queen had called her to her rooms, one night, and laid out hr plan, genya hadn't even thought to refuse. yes, king robert would die. yes, she would be the one to ensure he would never make it back from his hunt.
she had thought it would make a difference.
she had been wrong. king joffrey.... king joffrey was worse. she had tried to save the girls lord baelish brought him, and she had suffered. the scars underneath her glamour told the tale of what it meant to betray the king.
the first time she had lifted the glamour had been when she had crossed the sea, leaving the palace under the cover of night, aiming to find someone she could bear seeing on the iron throne. someone good. someone who was meant to rule. and when she had finally, finally made it, when she had met the dragon queen for the first time... when she had been asked why, genya had lifted the glamour and stood there, scars marring her beautiful face, one eye staring into nothing, and said the lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts.
in king's landing, she had felt like a servant. with daenerys, she felt like a soldier. ]
You sent for me? [ it is dark, now, as genya makes her way through the corridors to her queen's side. she should be asleep, but so should her queen. ]
a bajillion years later GOMEN
[But Rhaegar was gone and the Targaryen dynasty had been unseated by a small, weak man. And the people suffered, only to suffer more with the Usurper's passing. Yet, Daenerys did not truly know the extent of the boy king's cruelty until she met Genya. She had only heard faint whispers of his temper, of his pride and unearned arrogance. These things only spoke of a child playing at being an adult. The unease with which the Seven Kingdoms regarded him and challenged his claim to the throne seemed to be merely a question of his competency more than anything.]
[And then she saw the scars.]
[When Genya revealed her scars, Daenerys wanted to look away. All the violence she had witnessed to that point had never been like that. As ugly as the truth of warfare and conquest had been, and all the horrors the slavemasters had been willing to enact in an attempt to intimidate her, there was something about the exacting nature of the violence done to Genya that made Daenerys' blood run cold.]
[But she did not look away. Daenerys' hands curled into tight fists in her hand, leaving half-moon impressions on her palms for a time. She ignored the concern she felt emanating from the old bear just behind her and the glance from Ser Barristan. She looked hard into the eye that stared into nothing instead. She etched into her memory every line, every rough piece of skin so that she would not forget even when tempted to by Genya's glamour. And then she promised Genya that she would provide her with justice.]
Yes, [Daenerys turns away from her view of the city of Meereen. Troubled as she is, Meereen is not what keeps Daenerys awake this night.] Please, sit.
[She keeps her back straight, folding her hands neatly in front of herself. Although she steps away from the balcony and closer to the small table, Daenerys herself does not sit. It seems in poor taste to say these words to Genya while seated.]
I received news earlier today. From across the sea. [Subtly, her fingers fidget slightly from where they are interlaced in front of her. Try as she might to put out as much of a queenly aura, she is nervous to tell Genya what she has heard. She had, after all, made a promise and now she must say that she cannot keep it. Daenerys draws a breath and then plainly says it.] Joffrey Baratheon is dead.