Chapter 2: When Your Head Gets Twisted and Your Mind Goes Numb, When You Think You're Too Old, Too Young, Too Smart or Too Dumb.
Lindânâ
She could hear the courtiers and the musicians from the court downstairs when she struggled out of bed. Cursing the Gods, she groaned as her Septa threw open the curtains of her room, letting the sun exact it's revenge on her eyes, as it illuminated the tapestries and furs of her tower room in the harsh morning lights.
"Seeepta." She complained covering her face in a pillow "Gods be gone, remove yourself from my damned room!"
Septa rolled her tired faded eyes and pulled back the covers of her princess's bedding, throwing the thin sheets and heavy furs to the ground. "Dearly me, up you get princess," She said making her weaving way toward the wardrobe "It's the start of your name-day week, Gods permitting soon you'll be a fine Queen to a finer King." Back on the other side of the room, the princess growled and struggled her way out of the furs and toward her vanity where she dropped herself into the chair.
Septa Morgan hobbled over to her, her soft green dress swishing across the herb covered floor. "There's a pretty girl." she said taking a silver backed brush from the table, and beginning to calm the storm of ink hair that surrounded the princess's head this morning. The princess let out an exasperated sigh, blowing some of her bangs out of her face as the tangles were slowly worked out and oiled with rich oil that spelled of the sea.
"You look much like your mother, dear lady." Septa Morgan told her as she started to part her princess's thick locks, "Boys from all around are flocking to the city to do as much as behold the beauty of their princess. They say Prince Joffery of Hyarmen is here. I even heard that Prince Æsc of Rohan is on his way with 50 horses just for you."
"I do not need 50 horses." The princess said as Septa began tying ribbons around her thick braids, her old knuckles the only ones that could preform such a task so well. the princess was suddenly reminded of just how old her Septa was. "I do not want 50 horses. The Horse Lords can keep their beasts. I want a prince who can treat me like a person, not a prize to be won." she finished her long, thin fingers gliding over the cover to one of her books, it's leather was scarred and old, it's pages crumbling.
As Septa Morgan crossed to her wardrobe, the princess pulled her light silk night gown from her pale body and threw it over the post of her bed before seating herself once again at the vanity, pulling a pot of black kohl toward her. She was careful to smear the power on her eyelids, and just under her lower lashes. She wore the heavy makeup not to rebel or to make some sort of statement, but to cut the sun glare off the pearly white tiers of the city.
Her Septa helped her into the base layer of clothing, thin silks and a corset laced just tightly enough that it pushed her breasts up, and exposed her given hourglass shape. She watched herself in the mirror as she pulled on the green under dress, and was not surprised of how much she did look like her elfin mother. Long black hair, blemish free skin, a perfect bow to her lips. But her eyes, they were her father's, unmoving and daunting. Harsh and so full of kindness. She remembered when her brother's cat caught a baby bird and her father has taken the bird with careful hands and allowed her to nurse it back to heath. She'd done well but the bird had died anyway. She'd cried and stained her father's good tunic.
As she loosened the laces of her sleeves a knock resounded from the heavy door, and her Septa crossed to pull the door open a sliver and then farther, letting the princess's mother into the room, a low bow bending her already bowed back. The princess did not flinch as her mother swept into the room, her sharp silver eyes sweeping the tossed bedding and piles of velvet and satin the dress her daughter had worn last night were reduced too.
She crossed and pulled up a purple gown from the floor "You should be more careful. You do not want to tear this." She said as her daughter ran a hand through her bangs, straightening them. "Lindânâ," she said putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Mother." Lindânâ replied as she reached for the red dress she was to wear today. her mother helped her into the heavy fabric, fixing the wrinkles and admiring her daughter in the mirror. Lindânâ would never, never surpass her mother in beauty, she thought as she gazed upon her mother in a soft gold dress, she looks like an angel, Lindânâ concluded, before turning back to her own reflection.
"You'll be good today." Her mother said as Lindânâ lifted her arms so she could wrap a waist cincer of gold silk around her. Her mother began tightening it in the back, pulling it fitted and tight. "There will be many people watching. Princes and Kings and your father."
"Father is always watching." Lindânâ said as her mother pulled at the large sleeves of her dress, straightening them. "Thank you." She said turning from the polished mirror toward her jewelry chest. Her mother made an unhappy noise as Lindânâ took silver bracelets from the box and slid them over her hands.
"This is important." Her mother insisted, Septa Morgan watching from the corner.
Lindânâ turned on her mother, her sudden anger roiling in her eyes "I know mother! This is my life we are speaking off, if you remembered. These men are here to take me away, to have me so i can bare them many children, and so they can show all their lords that they had the honor in winning the great princess of Gondor! I think I understand how important this is!" And with that she stormed from the room, stopping only to grab the slippers waiting for her at the door.
