AN: Being new in Clone Club
Pros: Fuck yeah, I have 20 episodes to devour! WTF! Mindblown! Feels exploding all over the place! This show is awesome.
Cons: After binge watching, you move on to the lost-and-floating-and-crying-in-season-break world where you rewatch in infinity loop and the only thing that keeps you breathing is the coming of a new season as you become more and more like Helena...or Golum
And don't worry, all the action's gonna be in Westeros, those were just flashbacks in the form of dreams, to start establishing or revealing Delphine's ambiguity. Because, badass Delphine is badass. Period.
On with the story then.
The Great Hall was flowing with nobles from all over the kingdoms, decked in the respective colors of their houses, come to pay their respects to the man who was laid out just below the few steps to the Iron Throne.
Cosima cannot count the times she has groaned out loud, and a lot more internally.
"Have I mentioned how much I hate this?" she grumbles to Scott, who she thankfully found was easy to spot due to his black robes.
"Only about a hundred times."
"Euughh. I hate this." she repeats, just for good measure.
"I,for one, am excited. Grand maester Aldous has informed us that the person we'll be working with will also be announced today, a potions master from-" he is interrupted from his word vomit when Cosima spots Alison chatting with two women, all smiles and poise, her hair flowing free like dark fire and making a beautiful contrast against her blue grey dress. Well, at least someone's enjoying this as much as I'm not. She tugs Scott along, moving towards their direction.
"Lady Alison." he greets when they approach her, the same time that Cosima throws off a casual "hey Alison" and proceeds to hug her.
"Princess Cosima, how wonderful to see you again" Alison replies, trying to mollify the fastidious and disapproving looks from Lady Aynsley and Lady Charity at the inappropriate greeting, adding "Oh, you know how the Dornish are" as an explanation. Said Dornish catches on.
"Yeah, we do things differently in Dorne." she flashes a friendly smile, hands dancing in front of her as she tries to rectify her careless social blunder. And I just had to do it to Alison. Great.
Both blondes eye her up and down. "Differently indeed." Lady Charity's voice was dripping with antipathy. Cosima's head tilts passive aggressively to the side, a derisive look in her eyes.
"And this is?" Alison gestures to Scott, trying to dispel the tension.
"This is Maester Scott, newly appointed from the Citadel." she introduces with pride in her voice while he fumbles around, not used to interacting with women.
"And very loose when it comes to choosing friends." Charity continues with her attitude. "You really must reconsider the people you acquaint with, Princess Cosima."
"Maester Scott is not an acquaintance, he's my friend. And you're right, I really must reconsider the people I acquaint with, which is exactly what I'm doing right now."
Satire, sass, and an all-charming smile still plastered on her face that they're not sure if she's mocking them or not.
A steward cuts into their conversation. "Pardon me, my Ladies. Lady Alison, Princess Cosima, if you would follow me, the introductions are about to start." Alison grabs Cosima's arm, quickly maneuvering her before she says something else.
When they take their places, she finally takes a proper look at her tattooed friend.
"Well, it's good to see that, despite the dress, you at least made an effort to make yourself presentable." she comments, that even though she knows Cosima is gorgeous to begin with, she mentally approves of the prettified version, the eyes painted with care, the thin braids swirled into an elaborate bun, the red orange gown revealing more tanned skin than is usually seen in the Capitol, and putting the lithe body and tattoos on full display, causing quite a number of stiff necks from all the people craning their heads to take a proper look.
"Please, it's just a matter of a few tidying up, and with all the gaping and the number of times I've been checked out, I know I'm beyond presentable." She says it with casual confidence, as if stating a simple fact. "Why do we have to do this?" an exasperated whine follows immediately.
"It's customary for those of the Great Houses to be presented, you know this princess Cosima."
"Oh, come on, when are you ever going to simply call me Cosima?"
" You are to be addressed properly, Princess Cosima." Alison cuts in, the word princess sounding like an absolute admonishment, making the dark lined eyes in front of her roll.
"And it's not like they don't know who we are. Besides, it's a funeral, for crying out loud."
"Known only by name, not by face for many of those here. And yes, it's a funeral, but a lot of nobles and prominent people are present, it would be an opportunity for these people to reacquaint."
"Opportunistic people who can't wait to do either business or gossip, you mean?" Honesty and sarcasm roll of her tongue.
Alison was spared from answering by the herald's announcement, "Princess Cosima Martell of Dorne," and she gives a little push, reminding the Dornish that it's her turn to face the crowd, so to speak.
Cosima sighs, but when she walks, she walks confidently, strutting more like, her arms swinging, the metal links on her wrists jangling, stopping a few feet away from the pedestal where the body lay.
"Your Grace." She inclines her head a little, the gesture returned by the King. After her customary greeting, she walks to the left side, eager to avoid possible unnecessary conversations.
"Lady Alison Tully of Riverrun." She turns to see her friend do the same greeting. Where Cosima was exotic unabashedness , Alison was perfected decorum and propriety. I wonder how we get along, she thinks as she waves her over and takes her hand, walking with Alison in tow.
"Come on, let's go." Her whole body jerks back when the auburn stops abruptly at the word 'go'.
"Go? Go where? The others are still being announced, our presence is mandatory as a customary sign of acknowledgement."
"Well, can we be mandatorily acknowledging someplace where it doesn't feel like my brain will start decaying or else my hands will 'accidentally' smack people's faces?"
Alison sighs in a huff, about to go off in an itemized commentary on proper behavior but relents when she spots Felix up by the left wing. "Alright, follow me." They make their way to the steps on the left side towards the solitary individual looking for all the world as if bored and yet Cosima cannot help but think that he is the exact opposite of bored. He notices their approach and faces them, addressing them with a slight bow.
"Lady Alison. Didn't expect you to be out of the noble swarm you seem to prefer." Cosima's eyebrow raises at the backhanded way he spoke with decorum personified.
"Oh hush, Fairy." Alison's mock admonishment of a reply makes both brows disappear in her hairline.
Noticing the reaction, she clears her throat. "Yes, well, my friend here needed some space. Lord Felix, this is Princess Cosima. And this" she gestures towards the lanky frame decked out in edgy clothes, dark teal lining the rim of his eyes, "is Lord Felix, Master of Whisperers."
"Oooh, the Dornish princess. I do so love the Dornish. Wonderful people, more free and accepting of us 'deviants' as these uptight lot swimming in bigotry call us, yeah?" The way his words made Alison's eyes widen and jump from the two of them, with a whispered 'is he also referring to you', makes Cosima like him instantly, sensing a savvy mind behind the outrageous robes and perfectly coifed curl falling on his brow.
"Yeah" she breaks out into a grin. "I've heard of you, but I didn't expect The Fairy to be..." her hands compensate for her lack of words, waving in an up and down motion towards his body.
"Were you expecting someone with wings?"
"Ahm, a fat bald eunuch, actually."
"Huh!" he dramatically huffs, complete with an eyeroll "I am the complete opposite of all those things. A eunuch! Really? I can prove to you right now how very un-eunuchy I am." And he shuffles as if to remove his robes.
"Ah, n-n-n-n-o! That won't be necessary." Alison clucked, causing both of them to hide their laughs, although in vain.
"You look even more delightful up close." He says, his eyes appreciating the view. "And your breasts are more superb than..." Alison glares at him. "No offense, Lady Tully," he says instead, receiving her crazy eyes in return.
This causes Cosima to throw an I told you so smirk at Alison who gave her her own dose of crazy eyes.
They all turn to look at the throng of nobility below, watching the proclamation of the other members of the great houses who were able to attend.
"Oh, Lady Charity and Lady Aynsley." Alison chippers while Cosima almost growls. "I'll call them right over."
"Oh, look, it's Scott," she mimics Alison's tone, "I'll call him right over too." And they both wave their friends over, which of course ended up being an awkward reintroduction with Scott mumbling,Charity sniping, Aynsley quietly judging, Cosima trying to teach Charity a lesson on being rude, and Alison trying to subtly teach Cosima a lesson on being rude. Thankfully, the Master of Whisperers was quick on interceding before it escalates.
"Oh, I think it's the last person."
"Delphine of Lys." The herald's clear and booming voice is sufficient in taking their attention, but he falters at the last syllable.
They all turn to face the person who just walked in, and what they saw effectively shut them up, the herald's falter completely justified.
There is a collective gasp as the last honorary walks towards the Iron Throne, all the men and more than half the women sighing in a dreamy fashion. The woman approaching the King was extraordinarily bewitching, her presence and the way she sauntered commands the whole room, their sense of time slowed down as they take in every inch of her anatomy, of her pale creamy skin encased in a soft flowing gown accentuating her willowy frame and making her look like she's floating, the light from the glass windows delineating every plane and dip, every muscle and curve from her bare shoulders and arms as they sway lightly. All eyes were on her, the grace and sensuality that she moved with entrapping them in a trance, her green-brown eyes on a beatific face, but it is her hair that does the trick. Soft golden curls frame her face, the tips teasing as they brush her shoulder, every strand catching the light, reflecting it and somehow making it look better.
Cosima couldn't breathe, couldn't tear her eyes away, couldn't stop the deafening thunderstrikes originating from her chest and scurrying down her veins, burning her lungs, rooting her to the spot. Gods, I can't feel my legs, I don't know if I'm sinking or catapulted into the air, I just know that I can't feel the ground anymore. What is this? Who exactly is she? And why does she make me feel nervous? It feels like I saw her somewhere.
Alison was the first to say something.
"Oh my. By the Mother, her hair is...it's impossibly ethereal and otherworldly. It must be a gift from the gods themselves, there is no other explanation for it. Hair like that does not simply exist without some kind of supernatural interference."
"And I would kill to have her body." Charity sighs in envy and admiration.
Even Felix leans in, murmuring a "Now I get it.", his words echoing the inner workings of his mind as he pieces things together.
Scott's mouth was hanging open, "H-h-h-hwaaooow. I didn't know it was her."
It took a few moments for his comment to register in Cosima's head who was still mentally caught up with this foreigner and her unexplainable reactions . "Hold it, you mean that is the potions master you're gonna be working with?"
"Yeah, the foremost expert in the field. I mean, that it's a woman is surprising enough but...her? I've only heard rumors about her, about a woman with overwhelming beauty. I always thought they were exaggerating but, wow, just wow, I think they were playing it down."
Charity was quick to scoff. "Come now, you don't really believe that, can you? Even though I know she's pretty, I'm sure there's someone else who's prettier." Everybody, including Aynsley, looked at her as if she had three heads and no eyes.
"Some even swear she is descended from Irogenia herself, dubbing her the present Irogenia." Scott says with reverence, sighing every now and then. "They're right you know, I mean, the beauty part, not the courtesan part."
"Who's Irogenia?" Alison asks Felix, who was behind her.
"A courtesan from Lys, famed for her beauty. It is said that Irogenia of Lys could finish a man with nothing but her eyes... Kings traveled across the world for a night with Irogenia. Magisters sold their palaces. Khals burned her enemies just to have her for a few hours. They say a thousand men proposed to her and she refused them all. "
"And you'd know all about courtesans, wouldn't you, Lord Felix." Aynsley's tone was heavy with insinuation, but she is surprised by the way Felix answers, almost as if what she said was a compliment, a suspiciously agreeing grin on his face.
"Of course I do, Lady Aynsley."
Aynsley changes tactics and pries instead. "Why is a foreigner from Essos being presented today?"
"Officially, she's here to assist and work with Grand Maester Aldous concerning potions, widen the knowledge and all that, especially since there are a lot of ingredients that are only known in Essos. She's the best in the field."
Cosima was surprised too, that there was a woman being recognized for her talents, by the grand maester, no less, and voices it out. "Strange, I've never heard of her."
Nobody has ever put a face on the name of the mysterious expert , and nobody has ever put a name to the famed and rumored face. To think it's the same person...she's something else, Felix ruminates
"Not surprising. Actually, neither did I, until the Grand Maester notified our small group yesterday." Scott shrugs.
A small group who is unwittingly solving a possible murder. I have to admit, the way the small council can twist and cover up events is astounding. Felix was mentally applauding their handiwork, not aware that it went deeper and that her arrival had been covered up for more than a week.
The discussion goes back to the mystery of this foreign beauty, the small group joining the murmurs and no doubt the same questions as the people below were asking each other.
Cosima was only half listening to them, her jumbled thoughts making her hear only a slight buzz, her eyes stuck on the pale woman making her way towards the grand maester. What in the name of all the gods is this? I can't even identify a single emotion going through my head. So she concludes based on her physical reactions instead.
Okay. Increased heartbeats, my hands feel cold, my stomach feels weird, sound exclusion. She recalls things that can illicit these responses. There's attraction, love, nervousness, elation, excitement...anger, fear, danger. Her train of thought is interrupted when the King stands and addresses the crowd, the word danger echoing in her subconscious.
"I would like to thank all of you for coming today, to honor this..." the King's voice cracks, tears glistening in his eyes, and the crowd goes silent, waiting. He clears his throat, and lets his emotions show through his tone, low and somber.
"We lost a great man." he begins slowly. "The seven kingdoms would not be what they are today if not for Lord Ethan. I know there are no words that can ever measure up for all he has done. And I also know that this is a day of mourning, but I would also like to make this a day of celebration, a day to welcome a knight who has earned the title and place. As you all know, the brave and gallant Kingsguard were one member short, and today that spot is to be filled. Step forward " he gestures to one of the white cloaked knights, who walks towards him in a serious manner, every movement disciplined, "and let this be a day not only to honor the dead, but also to honor the naming for the most coveted spot in knighthood."
"He looks rather small and sort of skinny, don't you think?" Scott observes, the leaner frame noticeable even at a distance and underneath the armor. "Those chosen to be in the Kingsguard are usually bulkier, since they're the best in the land."
The newest Kingsguard stands before the King, glistening in newly forged golden armor. The surprise is audible as the helmet is removed, revealing dark brown hair. Long dark brown hair in a tight warbraid and an even tighter bun.
Even the King is surprised, not expecting the person behind the armor. His eyes meet that of Lord Commander Gavin's, clearly saying I tried telling you. He couldn't back out of his decision, not when she was already there, kneeling, staring at him as though challenging him to retract the knighting in front of all of these people.
He unsheathes his sword, deciding to deal with the possible repercussions later, but also confident in his decision in naming her as one of the Kingsguard. "I, King Donald Baratheon, first of my name..."
As he recites the words, Cosima squints her eyes, trying to remember why she looks familiar, and then she could not stop the "Holy crises! I recognize her!" that comes blurting out of her mouth. Alison's wide eyes, previously gawking at the female knight, turns to look at her, the incredulity and shock very transparent.
King Donnie's voice echoes through the halls, marking a special moment that has never happened before in the history of naming Kingsguards.
"Rise, Elizabeth Selmy."
yes, I have excessive adulation for Delphine's hair, coz it's so perfect it has the power to spawn fanfiction all by itself, therefore: ALL HAIL THE IMMORTAL HAIR, bow, oh unworthy creatures. I caught myself obsessively staring at it whenever it comes on screen and have to rewind to watch whatever else was going on..and then my eyes hopelessly drift back. Sing praise and bow to The Puppy Hair.