The House of Aragon.

Revalations...

Bright tapastrys hang overhead. Candle light reflects off golden goblets and crystal platters.

The air is pure silence, save the delicate clinking noises of sliverware and glass. I stur food around in my plate of spicey fardeles, a pork liver sausage and cured ham. My father has come home tonight after two long months of visiting friends in Daroca.

He sits quitely heading the other end of our long dining table, one of his friends beside him, Manuel De Daroca. My four brothers,three sisters and I are  seated in the lenght  of table with my mother heads this end.

Finally someone dares to do something more than breathe, "I hear there are congratulations in order." It is Manuel who speaks, a heavy set dark-skinned man who's been friends with my father since I was a child. 

My chest constricts a whole month has passed since my mother told me about my engagement and for the first time I wonder how long everyone else has known about it.

Maunel raises his goblet of mulled wine towards my father, "Yes, Alfonso D'Austrias good man,"  He looks in my direction, brown eyes gleaming. "and a good catch, Senorita."

"gracias Señor ." I lower my eyes and smile modestly as expected of me. Manuel and my father laugh, taking my nervousness for humility. Some of my brothers join them but my sisters, especailly Margarette sit in cold silence. Mama is eyeing my carefully, she's testing me. Watching to see my reaction, my fake enthusiasm, judging the facade.

When her blue eyes glint and move away from me, ending our silent exchange I know that I've pleased her and somehow that's comforting.

My mother's eyes used to startle me even now I find myself staring at them. She's the only Spaniard I've ever seen with blue eyes like that. Not just blue but the colour of the ice of a deep lake that's been frozen over. I think maybe she has some gringo in her, our profound family history has never interested me.

I sit uneasily inbetween my sisters Margarette and Maria while servants replace  dinner plates with platters of milk cakes and steaming tortas de alma, fried honey dough stuffed with jams of pumpkin or apricot. Hot spiced wine is poured and the air smells of cinnamon. 

My brothers laugh amongst themselves, my sisters twitter over me drinking wine from tinkling glass and Maunel starts a conversation with papa. All the while my mother watches over us with clear blue eyes. Hell bent on our contentment.

"When is it to be, do you know?" I murmer in between sips of Horchata, a cold sweet milk drink. The VisCondesa sits behind me on my bed, braiding my hair. Her long, cordal fingers move rythmatically through my hair, binding and twisting my locks into place.

"When is what to be, love?"

I roll my eyes, "You know what I mean."

"Oh," Giovanna laughs quitely and tries to tear some of her attention away from my hair. "of course. Technically, I'm not suposed to know much less tell you anything but you may rest easy my sky, your wedding day isn't until the very end of next month."

I take a sharp breath. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or if this is worse for me. More time of being at home, preparing, stalling. But also a lot of time to think  about how I am like a helpless little mouse, unable to change the inevitable. Frightened of change but incapable of stopping it. Tears sting like pin-pricks in my eyes threatening to fall.

"I'm finished." My governess hands me a small hand mirror, one large enough for me to just see the simple  braid that weaves straight down my head from my scalp to by back. But I can see something else too, in the mirror I catch a glimpse of my eye.

"Thank you, Vanna." I murmer. Something clicks, and I smile for I have finally found I glimmer of hope...

and suddenly I realize im not helpless.

I hand my governess back her hand mirror and rush off my  bed towards my vanity in a tumble. I place my hands on the smooth familiar wooden surface of my vanity mirror, tracing the wooden notches and swirls with my fingers and I take a deep breath before looking up and into it.

 My skin is dark, almost golden and my cheeks are perfectly  symetrical with the lines and curves of my jaw. And in the candle light there is a thin halo of white light surrounding my head, the light dacing on loose strands of my hair. And then there are the eyes, my eyes are like almands in shape and like honey in colour, hidden beneath pretty lashes.

I am beautiful, remarkable so. But for the first time I realize I can use that as a weapon or at least a tool to help myself. If they want me to be a pawn in their game,fine. I'll  play.

But it's high time I start using every advantage I have. If it's a marriage they want a marriage they shall surely have. My mouth breaks into a small grin as I turn away from the mirror and hop back  onto my downy bed.

No, I think. I am not helpless and I don't intend on becoming helpless anytime soon.

To my suprise Giovanna isn't staring at me as if I've gone mad. Instead my little governess is wearing a small smile and her eyes are filled with something happy.

The VisCodesa leans into me and whispers into my hair,"You are learning your worth, I'm proud. Be clever and be swift, remember that." She takes her mirror and heaves off of the side of my bed, bending down to kiss the top of my head. 

"Good night, my sky. My Juana."

Her face breaks into a sad smile, one that slips into the lines of her face too easily. It's become familiar in the past month since my engagment has been announced.

"And sweet dreams to you, Vanna." I murmer as I blow out the last of my candles.

I had little trouble falling asleep that night. For the first time in what seems like an eternity, I had a dream.