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𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, her silhouette cutting through the dimness of Maegor's Holdfast. Solitude was her rare ally today, gifted by Queen Alysanne, who had summoned her without the usual entourage of ladies-in-waiting. Aenya understood her precarious position at court; for many, she was both a source of fascination and contempt—a serpent among doves.
As she walked through the lavish corridor, Aenya met the eyes of lords and ladies, their reactions shifting between disdain and intrigue. With a nod and a smile that could disarm the coldest hearts, she embraced her role as both provocateur and pariah. Each gesture was scrutinized; every movement reaffirmed her resolve. Her dignity was a shield, though to them, it was an insult.
Whispers trailed her like a shadow. Lords sneered, and ladies exchanged glances filled with unmasked rage, as if Aenya's very presence were a challenge to their virtues. The air felt charged, thick with resentment and curiosity, a tapestry of emotions that colored her existence in the court.
The most affronting aspect of Aenya's presence was her attire. While she usually donned rich gowns in white and gold, today she wore a light blue dress, embroidered with silver thread that glimmered in the light. Her long hair flowed elegantly, adorned with pearls and a delicate tiara that sparkled like dew in the sun. Ah, how I revel in your envious stares, she thought, a smirk dancing in her mind.
As she walked, Aenya felt the weight of their gazes—an invisible garment woven from admiration and hostility. The lords, eager to disparage her, could not resist her allure. Her beauty stood as a challenge to the court's norms, a constant reminder that she was the daughter of Maegor the Cruel and the fairest among those who claimed worth. And as she crossed the ornately decorated hall, she mused, Let them whisper. Each venomous word only adds to my glory.
"Princess Aenya, as radiant as ever," a lady said with a strained smile, struggling to conceal her annoyance. "I trust you are here to discuss court matters with Queen Alysanne?"
Aenya's smile was sharp, ambiguous enough to be sweet or dangerous, depending on the recipient. "Ah, my dear, I've come merely to enjoy some time with my beloved cousin." The words dripped with sarcasm, asserting her royal status. With that, she left the lady behind and moved toward the queen's chamber.
A gentle breeze floated through the window, carrying the scent of blooming flowers. Crossing the threshold, Aenya was welcomed by the room's serene atmosphere, soft light filtering through the curtains and casting a golden glow. Alysanne stood at the window, gazing at the clear sky as if seeking answers among the clouds. In the center of the room, a table was laden with sweets, a steaming teapot, and the unspoken expectations of their gathering—a cherished tradition since Aenya's childhood, offering light moments amid the court's turmoil.
