Love and Control - A Game of Thrones Fan Fiction

Chapter XXI - Arienne

Dafina creeps in and washes my hair for me. I've already spoken to Joffrey about making her, Zalika and Madi into ladies. From this day, they will be known as Lady Dafina, Lady Madi and Lady Zalika. They are to be granted lands in Dorne and their hometowns. Giving them this gift after their years of service in Dafina and Zalika's case, it seems only right.

I wrap a towel around myself and step out of the bath. It's not like the huge pools we have in Dorne to bath in, but I feel safer in a smaller and shallower space like this simple tub. It's like I'm less likely to drown.

Just as I pull on the gown, there is a rap on my bedroom door and Madi opens it, allowing Cersei and her ladies in. I step out from behind the screen with Dafina, both of us curtseying respectfully. For the remaining few hours until the wedding, Cersei is still the Queen.

She seems slightly mournful at losing the role that has been her's for so long. She barely says a word to me as she instructs her team on how to style my hair - loose, braided with pearls, with the sides pinned back. They set to work in their masterpiece, pulling brushes through my hair and tugging it in all directions. I have to hold onto the chair at one point, terrified that they are going to pull lumps from my head.

Whilst 3 women work on my hair, another two set about powdering my face and rubbing rouge into my lips. They use the colour pink, as red is apparently too adult for me, and they want to portray the image of purity. I remain silent throughout all of this, as arguing would get me nowhere.

It takes a full 2 hours of pulling and braiding and powdering until Cersei gives her approval and ushers me over to the screen where I'll be changing into my gown. It's incredibly beautiful - a pure white silk undergown embroidered with tiny diamonds, completed with a white chiffon overgown with long sleeves that fastens at the waist with a golden belt. It's embroidered with golden flowers and the train flows out for yards behind me. It's the most expensive and beautiful dress that I've ever worn.

By the time I've been prised into the layers of petticoats and had a corset squeezed around me, Cersei is dressed in her gown. It's stunning, made of red silk and velvet with gold stars embroidered on it. She's wearing the Queen's crown on her blonde hair, which she is also wearing loose in a similar style to my hair.

It's hard to imagine that by the end of the day, that crown will be on my head. My tale is the ultimate story of rags to riches. How had I been born a peasant child, with hardly any prospects, and now I was 3 hours away from becoming Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

I compliment Cersei pleasantly on her outfit. She sniffs slightly in acceptance and makes a remark about how well the darkness of my hair goes with the white of the gown. Knowing that this is as big a compliment that I'm likely to get from Cersei, I beam happily and thank her for her kind words and all of her help in making me look as beautiful as I do today.

There's a knock on the door. One of Cersei's ladies, I'm not sure who, stands to open and it. Now is the beginning of a short period of wellwishers visiting me. Important nobles and Lords from foreign lands have all come to the wedding, and the most important have been granted an audience with the bride beforehand.

However, it's not an important prince from Dorne or a Lord from Essos at the door. Instead it's my Uncle Urbanos. The lady asks Cersei whether to let him in or not, but I run to the door and fling myself at him. He warily wraps his arms around me and then hugs me properly. It's the type of hug that a father would give a daughter. A loving hug, an affectionate hug.

I invite him in immediately and one of the ladies moves so he can sit down. Age has taken it's toll on him, he's not as strong as he used to be and he now uses a walking stick to support himself most of the time. But he's dressed in his finest garments and his white hair has been brushed without a knot left. Around his neck are his state jewels, jewels that I know he only wears on the finest of occasions. "Arienne my dear, you look beautiful." He admires me with a smile, but I see the sadness in his eyes. "Your grace, would you mind if I spoke to my uncle privately for a moment?" I ask Cersei. She gives me a look that says she couldn't care less, and saunters out of the room, only pausing to nod at my uncle. He bows as best he can in his chair, and flashes her a smile. "You look ravishing, your grace." She gives him a weak smile, and beckons for her ladies and mine to follow her out of the room. Within seconds, we're alone.