Music all around her, the Queen smiled at Gowen Baratheon. His blue eyes twinkled merrily as he bowed in front of her. "Pray allow me a dance, Your Grace." A broad grin appeared on his face at her nod. He presented her with an upturned hand.

Aelinor slid from her place at the table and placed her hand in his. "Lead the way, my Lord." He was a handsome man, yet only a third son. He was set to marry Tya Lannister. "How fares the Lady Tya, my Lord?"

"She is well enough," the young man said. Something in his face warned her away from the subject. Gowen volunteered no more information. "Are you enjoying tonight's festivities?"

"They are magnificent." A small lie, Aelinor told herself, a small lie to cover those ugly truths they would rather close their eyes to. Outside these stone walls people were dying. The sickness was spreading like rot over fruit, poisoning everyone slowly, slowly.

A lively song was played and Gowen spun her around. He smiled sweetly to her.