Masks of Death

Mournful Celebrations

Each moon of this year was celebrated by a new tourney, the foundation of a new charity, a generous display of mummer shows in all major castles and cities of the realm. How the lords truly felt about it remained unknown but they did what they were supposed to, like loyal subjects. The tenth anniversary of Aerys' coronation had to be celebrated properly.

Of course, nowhere else were the festivities as grand as King's Landing. This turn of the moon marked the exact date of the ascension and there were no money spared for wrestlers, knife-throwers, monkeys riding horses, dogs walking on their hind legs, singers, and sword dancers. Seamstresses were having their time of the year with all the ladies coming from all over the realm to partake in the royal celebrations, or at least see them from afar. Food items sold thrice their regular price.

In the Red Keep, those who were supposed to preside over the celebrations were far from any celebratory feelings. King Aerys had found a new book, or the new meaning of an old book, no one could be sure, and wouldn't leave his chambers. Queen Aelinor looked paler and gaunter than usual. The King's Hand was so morose that even Lady Shiera could not cheer him up and people speculated in low scared voices what news could have made him so visibly distraught. Prince Maekar was more short-tempered than ever. Prince Aegon had been expected to arrive a fortnight ago and hadn't, and no one knew whether he'd make it, or had ended up one of the many victims on the roads – dead with his entire escort, faceless and unrecognized…

"I have to admit that you've always had the most exquisite taste about the colours of your gowns."

Daella Dondarrion's voice was intentionally cheerful. While in the last few months Aelora had gotten somewhat better, the celebrations could be nothing but reminder of all that she had lost. Daella shuddered. She had grieved her late husband, she still loved and missed him but she could not imagine how it would have felt like if he had been her other half from the day of her birth. Unlike some others, she did not think that Aelora's new peculiarities had anything to do with her father's legacy. She was not mad. Just mad with grief. And she had started getting better. Perhaps she could get better once again when they left those celebrations behind.

The gown was indeed lovely, its pale creamy colour enhancing both Aelora's purple eyes and the golden glints in her auburn hair. Daella suspected that it would also enhance her cousin's profoundly frail figure but there was no way around that.

"You'll see it'll be lovely," she said, very bravely.

Aelora gave her a doubtful look. "You don't believe it. You want it no more than I do."

Daella sighed. "Am I this obvious?"

"To a fellow soul, yes, you are," Aelora replied honestly.

Daella rose and went to the window, staring blindly at the preparations beneath. Tonight, the great ball would take place and she didn't feel like going at all. Her relationship with her husband was at its lowest point; the Small Council had started looking at her askance because the man was channeling their personal fights into House Dondarrion's politics; the Blackfyres were stirring yet another trouble in Essos which, in turn, made everyone in the Red Keep uncomfortable and brooding… The last thing she needed was a celebration of any kind. Especially when knowing that her husband was sure to attend.

Under her window, a group of young noble maidens had crowded around an old, wizened fortune-teller. Five years ago, Daella had been one of them, eager to know what life and impeding marriage would bring her; now, she only shook her head and turned her back to the window.

Suddenly, the door opened and Daella gasped at the sight of her father or rather, the small boy wriggling to get free of his iron grasp.

"What?" Aelora exclaimed. "He was here only a moment ago, I swear!"

"Someone must have opened the door," Maekar said, "because when I came in, he was busy crossing the lilac chamber in pursuit of freedom."

Daella impatiently reached for her son. "Trying to run away from me, eh?" she scolded and he glared at her, wiggling still. She placed him on the green carpet. "Don't do it again!"

"Don't place your hopes too high," Maekar murmured. "He'll do it again. That's what they do. The fact that we generally manage to keep them alive until they learn to take care of themselves a bit is a miracle in itself…"

He gave his daughter and niece a stern look. "I came to make sure that you haven't forgotten about the ball tonight. People will expect both of you to attend."

Daella and Aelora shared a look of utter despair. That would be a night of torture, behaving themselves and pretending to be merry while inside, they wanted to scream. Would they forever be bargaining chips in that game of thrones that no one was able to stop playing?

Surprisingly, but this time it was Aelora who generally avoided any confrontations when possible who took the initiative.

"Daella does not desire to attend, Uncle," she said, lifting her chin. "And neither do I," she added defiantly. She was quite certain that while Daella's presence was required to stop any rumours that there was a rift with the Marcher lords, she was to be dangled like an especially delicious sweetmeat in front of the realm – the first step in their quest to find her a second match. The very idea of one made her gag.

Maekar raised an eyebrow. "Finally stopped fearing me, eh?"

Aelora blushed and almost looked down. It was true that in her grief, she had developed a strong fear of forceful personalities and in this, her uncle excelled.

"I don't feel like celebrating," she said and admitted, "Besides, everyone will be staring at me and they will whisper about…"

"It's inevitable," Maekar said. "But it was an accident. Take heart from this."

Aelora thought about this. She could find solace in almost nothing and courage, in even less. "How could you stand it?" she wondered, looking at Maekar.

His face softened. "By sheer will," he said. "There might be another way but if so, I don't know it. You just have to keep going. Remember, he knew that you didn't want it. It was just an accident." He paused. "You cannot avoid the world forever, as tempting as it might be. Sooner or later, you'll have to face court… and that's true for you as well," he added, looking at his daughter. If Daella acquiesced, that would be her first appearance to a courtly function since the day she had arrived at King's Landing without warning, two weeks ago. The rumours had abounded but the only things that were known for sure were that she had sent for her son by her first husband to be brought from Driftmark immediately and that she had not responded to her husband's letter.

Daella held the child more tightly. "I know," she sighed. "I will come. And I think you should as well, Aelora."

Aelora nodded curtly. Still ravaged by grief and guilt, she wanted to live nonetheless. And if it was a ball that she had to attend, then a ball it would be. Who knew, it might even turn out to be a new beginning. She did not believe that but it would be nice if it was.