Silver flowing hair, mismatched eyes and a lean, tall figure, Shiera Seastar couldn't be more different than the Queen is she tried. Aelinor pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped its entrapping. Aegon's daughter was speaking to a handsome knight who was obviously trying very hard to keep his gaze on her face.
Aelinor shifted uneasily in her seat. Aerys drank from his spiced wine, scarcely paying her a moment's attention. The feast pleased her none. She would have liked to dance, but Aerys would not bestir himself even for that. The Seven knew what he found so interesting in that scroll he had placed on his lap.
She hadn't asked to be his Queen. "I would take a walk in the gardens," she told him, standing from her seat. Rather she would have had anyone else for a husband.
The grass bent under her feet when she stepped outside. "Have a little mercy," Aelinor beseeched the dark skies. What fault was it of hers to be punished thus? She had never chosen anything for herself in this life; not her position, not the manner of her living, and certainly not her husband.
