GoMB Chapter Twenty-Seven (Patreon)

AN: This is one of two chapters published on Patreon today. Make sure to read Chapter Twenty-Six

Aerea gave a small smile as Adella Rosby handed her a jeweled looking glass. Within the silvered mirror she saw herself, purple eyes lined with Rhonyish kohl and porcelain cheeks dusted with alum. Her lips were painted red with crushed cranberries. Her budding breasts provided a faint swell in the bodice of her crimson dress, hidden beneath the layers of silk. Around her neck hung an ancient necklace, faceted amethysts upheld by an unbreakable chain of Valyrian Steel.

Aerea smiled, and handed back the looking glass. Aenar would surely faint when he looked at her. If only the other young men of Westeros would be so accommodating. Alas, Aerea would be forced to dance with many of them. She could already foresee the stumbling feet of the Baratheons, the greedy eyes of the Lannisters, and the ever-present droning of the Crowlanders determined to assert their importance.

“Is there someone you have your eye on tonight, Princess?” Adella asked.

“No one in particular,” Aerea said. It was not entirely a lie. Aenar was unfortunately unlikely to dance with her. Even before he would have been reluctant, as many mistook his scaled appearance for monstrous nature. Her uncle’s recent actions only made the matter worse. “I expect I will see a great deal of men I care for precious little.”

“Such is the burden of rank and heritage,” Yanna Royce responded, her eyes flitting over to Samantha Frey. “Yet is it not better to deal with the grasping intentions of climbers than to suffer as a merchant’s daughter?”

“Well said,” Samantha replied, a sickeningly sweet smile upon her painted lips. “After all, a merchant’s daughter may be required to show some practical value, whereas those descendants of great heritage are commonly freed from such burdens.”

Yanna Royce flushed. She opened her mouth, only for Alyssa Belmore to subtly elbow her, much to Aerea’s disappointment. There was no small entertainment to be found in the exercise of Samantha’s sharp tongue.

“If we are all ready then?” Aerea asked. She waited for the nods of her ladies, not that there was any chance of them providing disagreement. Their roles did not allow for it. “Then let us depart. It would not do to be delayed in our attendance.”

The ladies stood, pale hands carefully evening out their gowns. Samantha’s was by far the richest after Aerea’s. Made of blue silk and grey lace, the dress formed a modest shape, offering no insight as to Samantha’s body yet plenty into the affairs of her dowry. Adella Rosby’s gown, following the latest trends from Pentos, offered insight into both with its bodice of Myrrish lace and Norvoshi gauze. By contrast the dresses of Aerea’s Vale-born companions seemed lacking. Both were made of the finest lambswool, already a definitive step down from silk. Nor were either lavishly colored. Alyssa’s dress was the pale blue of woad rather than her house’s silver and purple, while Yanna’s gown was indeed bronze–the specific shade that could be made with onion skins. The embroidery was well-done but uneven, a sign that the dresses had been made by family rather than professionals.

Aerea moved past them, her march to the ballroom heralded by servants and seneschals alike. Her ladies trailed behind her, trailing by her skirts. Their presence gave her support and power, a true Princess with ladies-in-waiting from ancient, powerful, and wealthy families. Yet their presence posed a weakness and obligation as well. If Aerea did not prove her worth—by providing their families marriages, influence, and access to the court—her maids would turn against her. Her nightly gossip would make its way to their relatives who would unleash it upon the court in the most distorted form possible.

Such was the life of a Princess, to be given every luxury, conceivable or not, and informed that to maintain such a lifestyle one must only need balance upon oiled rope for the rest of their life. Aerea did not begrudge her luxuries. She did not doubt that the exchange was that many below her would eagerly take. Yet she questioned its worth all the same. What good was power when it came with the chains of expectation?

*

Aenar looked up as the doors swung open. From his seat on the lower benches he could not help but stare. Unbidden, words came to his tongue;

“The sun stands before me

An unending source of light

No greater joy can I see

Once I thought myself free

From desire, from want–a true knight

Now the sun stands before me

Her beauty is more precious than tea

Her smile, shining daylight

No greater joy can I see

Her warmth carries me across seas

Her simple glance undoes my might

Yes, the sun stands before me

One look fills me with glee

It sets my heart alight

No greater joy can I see

Let me come before you I plea

If only to capture the sight

The sun stands before me

No greater joy can I see”