) chapter 17. (
IT had already been an exhausting day for Laeherys, when her bethroted told her the next thing on their agenda. The dress-fitting.
The Dornish seamstress was asked to visit the Red Keep with a box full of different fabrics with different patterns, needles and a measure ribbon. Both the King and his future wife wait for her in Laeherys' bedroom. His hand engulfs hers, staying entwined on her lap. His thumb was drawing calming circles on her pale skin.
"Is there anything else we have to do after the fitting," Laeherys asks him as she stiffens a yawn. Tommen smiles at her and shakes his head. "No, after this you are free to do whatever you like. Would you.. mind taking a walk with me through the gardens? Like the first time we spoke to each other," he asks, seemingly a little unsure.
But truly, could she deny a proposal from the King? And with this is mind, she promises that walk to him. Happiness shines through his emerald eyes and he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on her lips.
His hand finds the base of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek as his lips move harmoniously against hers. They breathe each other's air, they smell each other's scents and they feel each others skins. This is what she would live for in a marriage. Not the crown, the throne or the dresses and jewelry he provides for her.
Their lips break apart and he smiles gently at her. "I shall go now, but when you're done I'll come here again to fetch you. Choose a beautiful dress for our perfect day.." "Thank you, my King." "Tommen. Call me by the name my mother and the gods gave me, especially once we will be united as one by them," he says.
Laeherys curtsies for him and grants him a smile back. "As you wish.. Tommen." The King leaves and his Kingsguard follow him. Only a few minutes later the seamstress arrives with a hooded figure, who holds a giant wooden box. The doors shut and the woman locks the door.
"Good morning, my lady." The woman bows and takes the heavy box from the other lady. Laeherys steps forward to help, but was asked to just stay back. When all was set for the fitting, the Dornish woman waves to the girl to reveal herself.
The hood was removed and a young woman shakes her luscious black hair out of her face. Her body was the olive tan of Dorne and her eyes are dark and fierce. Something in her facial bones reminds herself of someone, but she didn't know who..
"My lady, I suppose you already saw our Dornish heritage, but that's not all-" "Let me think, spies of Prince Oberyn," Laeherys asks as all pieces fall together. Her purple eyes fall on the older woman and she smiles. "The Targaryen dress sent to the bethroted of a Lannister? Nothing hurts deeper for the Lannisters than that, I suppose Oberyn thought?"
The woman smirks as she bursts out in laughter. "The dragoness seems intelligent, Sarella. Yes, my prince sent me for you. He wants me to be the one to take you from King's Landing when time comes. Sarella here will be your protector during this journey, as she is much better with weapons than a poor old lady like myself," she says, winking at her mischieviously.
Sarella curtsies for her, smirking at Laeherys. "Sarella Sand, my princess. Daughter of Oberyn Martell and a noble lady from the Westerlands. He claimed me upon my thirth nameday. I am honourable to my House and the Houses mine pledges alliance to."
"Thank you, princess Sarella." The seamstress claps in her hands and begins to open the boxes. "Undress to your underdress and show me the goods I get to work with."
Laeherys blushes, but loosens her laces with help of Sarella and pulls the dress off. She was shivering in the underdress, but not of cold. Hmm.. strange, the Targaryen girl thinks. The woman begins to mutter to herself as she pins different kinds of fabric on her body, thinking and looking which combinations look well together.
"I am thinking of long sleeves in this silver fabric, with this silver being kind of the base in the design. It matches beautifully with your pale complexion, light eyes and contrasting dark hair. Let me do my work and you'll see, your dress will be the most gorgeous of all. Sarella, you make sure that order for a silver tiara is done, right?"
The two women begin to talk about all the things needed for the wedding dress while helping the princess back into her normal clothes. "Now go and find your Baratheon and say nothing of our plans, darling," the seamstress says, winking at her before leaving the chambers. Laeherys was not able to comprehend it all before Tommen comes back to fetch her for their walk.
Tommen takes her to her favourite parts of the gardens and tells her all he knows about them, which was more than she expected of a man who had been in training to be a prince and is a King. During their walk she begins to shiver more, feeling cold though the sun warms her skin. Her head was beginning to feel light, the hum in her ears beginning to take over her hearing.
"Is everything alright," Tommen asks her, seeing her attention to his story taking off. Her breathing turns more shallow and Tommen frowns. Was something wrong with her? "Laella, hello? Laella, are you fine?"
She didn't react. Instead, her eyes closed and her body falls to the ground. Tommen reacts quickly and catches her before she hits the stone path. Then he yells out for the assistance of the Maesters.
"HELP, MY BRIDE! SAVE MY BRIDE! WHAT ARE YOU STANDING THERE? DO SOMETHING!" Tommen screams, drawing the attention of other courtesans. One of the members of his Kingsguard runs off to find a Maester while Tommen tries to lift his Laella into his arms.
He almost failed, but he has her in a steady grip and brings her to her chambers, where he lays her on her bed. After the King tucked her under blankets, the Grand Maester arrived. Pycelle bows for his King, who rather had he skips the formalities and go straight to Laella to help her.
"Rise, Grand Maester, and tell me what is wrong with my bethroted," he says. The Grand Maester nods and walks over to the bedside for his examination. "It seems that she is sick.."
"Is it something bad," Tommen asks him, his eyes filled with worry for his bride's health. The Maester shakes his head. "No, Your Grace, it's not bad. Give her rest and she will be healed by next week," he says. After another bow he leaves the room.
The King grabs the pale hand of his future wife and gives it a loving squeeze. "Just rest, my love. You will be better in no time. Then we will finish our walk through the gardens." He kisses her between her eyebrows and walks out of the room.
He couldn't help being worried for her health, but his heart had filled with happiness upon hearing it was not serious.
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1222 words.
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LITTLE DRAGONESS || T. Baratheon
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