selcouth | aegon targaryen (ii)

chapter nineteen

Hyacinth Hightower was perfect. She knew she was, or so she tried to convince herself every day. With meticulous care, she would rise from her silken sheets, greeted by the soft glow of dawn filtering through her chamber windows. From the moment her eyes fluttered open, she embarked on a ritual of perfection, each step carefully choreographed to maintain the facade of flawless grace.

Her maids fluttered around her like devoted attendants, assisting her in the intricate process of adorning herself with the finest garments and jewels. It was a dance they had mastered over the years, a symphony of silk and satin orchestrated to accentuate her every curve and contour.

Only when every strand of hair was perfectly coiffed, every stitch of fabric impeccably tailored, did Hyacinth deign to step beyond the sanctity of her chambers. With a regal bearing and an air of effortless elegance, she made her way to the Queen's chambers, where her aunt awaited her presence.

Breakfast was a ritual steeped in tradition, a time for whispered conversations and shared confidences amidst the opulent surroundings of the royal table. Hyacinth listened with practiced patience to the courtly gossip and political intrigues that unfolded around her, offering her own insights with a coy smile and a flutter of her lashes.

Yet, it was in the quiet moments that followed, as the morning sun cast its golden rays upon the hallowed halls of the Sept, that Hyacinth truly found solace. With bowed head and clasped hands, she would kneel before the altar, offering up her prayers to the Seven with unwavering devotion.

Throughout the day, Hyacinth's schedule was a whirlwind of activity, filled with meetings and audiences with the nobles and dignitaries of the realm. Yet, amidst the chaos of courtly affairs, she always found time to steal away to the tranquility of the Queen's gardens.

Despite her nearly flawless facade, Hyacinth harbored one simple imperfection: a love for gossip. It was a guilty pleasure she indulged in with relish, a secret vice hidden beneath layers of poise and refinement.

She adored the visits from the ladies of Highgarden, their animated chatter and whispered confidences a welcome distraction from the monotony of courtly life. They would regale her with tales of intrigue and scandal from their homeland, each juicy tidbit adding fuel to the fire of Hyacinth's curiosity.

She listened with rapt attention as they spoke of secret trysts and hidden agendas. And though she maintained her outward composure, a thrill of excitement coursed through her veins with each new revelation.

Arabella, with her vibrant laughter and infectious energy, was the life of every gathering. Her vivacious spirit and boundless enthusiasm were like a beacon of light. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a quick wit at her disposal, she could turn even the most mundane conversation into a lively affair. Arabella was the one who always knew the latest gossip and had a talent for spinning tales that kept everyone captivated.

Lucy, on the other hand, exuded an air of quiet sophistication and grace. She was the epitome of refined elegance, her every movement measured and deliberate. With a keen intellect and a sharp eye for detail, Lucy often played the role of the silent observer, taking in everything around her with a discerning gaze. Though she rarely spoke unless spoken to, her words carried weight, and her opinions were valued by all who knew her.

Genevieve, with her gentle demeanor and warm smile, had a talent that extended beyond mere conversation and companionship. Born into a family of bakers in Highgarden, her skill in the culinary arts was unrivaled, her creations a testament to her boundless creativity and unwavering passion.

As the heir to her family's bakery, Genevieve had spent countless hours honing her craft, perfecting recipes passed down through generations and infusing them with her own unique flair. Her sweets were legendary throughout the realm, coveted by nobles and commoners alike for their exquisite taste and delicate beauty. From delicate pastries adorned with intricate designs to decadent cakes that melted in the mouth like butter, Genevieve's creations were a feast for the senses. Her bakery had become a beloved institution in Highgarden, a gathering place for friends and family to indulge in the simple pleasures of life.