Denya of Braavos

Appearance and character
Though she was born a slave of Lys, bred ot be beautiful, Denya's features have hardened through on the streets of Braavos. Her hair, the shade of pale moonlight is braided in short and practical fashion, her once dreaming azure eyes now bright and sharp like those of a bird of prey. Despite her position at the Targaryen court in Lys, her demeanour is modest, shy, almost antisocial towards most of the people around her

She only fully trusts Princess Selenya Targaryen, whom she serves as handmaiden and Lady in Waiting

City of lust
Denya was born in a Lysene pleasure house. Like many of her fellow slaves, she was specifically bred to be as beautiful as possible. From infancy she was raised apart from her parents in order to prevent her from forming any attachments. From then on she was raised in the faith of the weeping lady, taught that her purpose was to grow to be beautiful and give pleasure to all those who offered patronage, acting as an agent of the godess. Despite the beauty around her, from an early age the girl learned to see the ugly truth underneath. Her only friends were the other girls, some of whom were old enough for the work of the house. When they returned to the dormitory in the early hours of the predawn gloom, many owuld be crying, some would be bruised, and others still would seem hollow, as if though they had left behind their souls in the opulent halls of the pleasure house. Those who became with child from clients would be made to drink foul-smelling potions, and if the child was was born it would be taken away, never to be seen again. In her earliest years she lived in fear, hiding in the shadows in vein, knowing that one day she too would grow old enough for her owners to send her into the palace of pleasure. Yet it seemed He had other designs for her fate

A kindly man
In her 6th year, Denya was part of a shipment of slaves bound for Myr. On the journey she was locked below deck with the ot her slaves, some adults that would begin service as bedslaves, others children that would work as cupbearers and pages until they came of age (though it is an open secret that som masters don't wait that long). While travelling, Denya befriended another slave, a man by the name of Enzo. He would play strange games and tricks with her, trying to decieve her senses in various ways, however she caught on to many of his deceptions quickly, much to his surprise. A week after setting out from Lys, the ship was caught in a storm and began to sink. The slaves, locked below deck, realized they would soon die. However when a hole opened in the hull of the ship, Denya was able to climb out due to her small size, and climbed her way onto the steadily descending deck. There she found the crew and slave merchants preoccupied with getting a row boat onto the churning seas. Preoccupied with escaping certain death, they took no notice when she broke open the lock which kept her fellow slaves in condemned captivity, only to be knocked unconcious moments later when the deck shifted beneath her and she fell to the ground. Waking, she found herself in a boat with her fellow slaves, with Enzo at the oars with sweat on his brows and blood to his elbows, an ominous silence fallen upon the boat. All the others now feared this kindly man and dared not open their mouths, and so only Denya dared ask where they were headed. The kindly man simply smiled and pointed into the distance to the sound of a giant's roar cutting through the mists

City of death
Once they reached the harbour of Braavos, the other now freed slaves abandoned the rowboat like rats from a sinking ship, leaving Denya and Enzo alone. Shortly thereafter the two found themselves on the edge of the docks, sharing a bucket of fresh oysters. Once they had eaten Enzo bid her farewell, saying he had business in the city. "I'll die here without you" cried the little girl, bereaved at her friend for leaving her. With one final smile the kindly man gave his reply. ''"Valar Morghulis". ''In the next moment the mists enveloped him, leaving only his words hanging on the still air. Looking down in tears, Denya found that Enzo had lef one final oyster in the bucket. Inside was neither juicy flesh nor a shining pearl, but a single coin, made of iron...

Denya had started her life in a large house, serving a strange god. In some ways the House of Black and White seemed merely a continuation. Once again she was a divine agent on earth, though she pleased none but him of many faces. With every turn of the moon new names were spoken, and she would set to her work. Some would die to their suppers, or a glass of wine at a party, or an oyster bought on the streets. Some would fall down stairways, off bridges, feeling only a slender hand and a gentle push. Others still would find knives dug deep into their flesh before they even noticed. At first the girl allowed herself to believe she could keep her life, her freedom, that she would never have to return to that wretched place again if she kept doing as she was told, that every dead body was a brick in a wall between her and the past. She looked away, became as subtle as she could, tried to kill so inconspicuously that she herself would think it was an accident befalling some random stranger, a face she would never see. She saw each and every one. Every name she struck from the list, every heart she stopped, every face she claimed she would end up staring in the eye in the predawn gloom, as she washed their bodies, removed their posessions, carved off their faces. Every kill was a funeral she had to arrange, one she alone would attend. Many times he said she could leave, and every time she pictured Lys, and regretted asking, and returned the next day to recieve a name. However eventually her memory failed her, as it filled with a wall of faces, replacing her old memory piece by piece until eventually she could not tell the difference between the mosaic of skin in one house and that of coloured porcelain in the other. Finally she broke, and asked to be given her leave. He was dissapointed, but not angry, and told her the many-faced god would grant a favour in return for those she had granted him. She could aks for anything, but think of nothing. Finally she asked to go home. That night she went to sleep, and woke up on a striped cog, headed for Lys

The Dragon's nest
With but the clothes on her back (and that which they hid) Denya set foot upon the isle of Lys once more in the year 405 AC, a girl as broken as the one that had left. The Targaryen pleasure house was all she had known, and so she tried to return, yet words failed her. Ten years later, she could not recognize a single person there for such was the way of slavery, those that survived were endlessly shuffled around, kept apart for years until they oculd no longer tell their brethren in chains apart. Denya recalled only one person, Her lady Evaeline Targaryen. As fate would have it her lady had passed mere months before the return of her lost slave. As children inherit their parent's property, the next destination was the Targaryen palace, currently under lockdown after the passing of Evaeline. Finally in the night, Denya made her decision. Using her aqquired skills, she entered the palace unnoticed, placing herself in the master bedroom, the property of the new Princess. Selenya Targaryen would find the slave girl standing in the light of the moon, at once illuminated and cast in shadow. She drew a dagger which gleamed coldly, then offered it and knelt, offering herself back into the lady's service and saying she would accept any punishment for running away. Instead she was hired, and in the next years would become Selenya's shadow, guarding her closely. Not in a god, but in a dragon had she found her purpose