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CHAPTER EIGHT. ━━━━━━━━━ Have you ever known a body not to be haunted?
CAMERON RICH, THEORY OF MOTION ━━━━━━━━━
ELIA TURNS HER GAZE TO HER SON. Aegon is almost a man. He is tall, like his father, with pale silver hair that he keeps swept back and tied low against the nape of his neck. Elia watches as he finishes a letter to Lord Connington, who is currently residing at Griffin's Roost. Her heart warms at the sight. How he has grown in the past moons, she thinks to herself. He is no longer a boy. The thought almost makes her sad.
He notices her gaze on him and looks up. "How are you, mother?" he asks and lays the quill down.
"I'm well. I hope the banquet tonight isn't as tedious as you seem to think it will be," she teases. "Though I have a feeling you have someone to enjoy it with."
Aegon smiles sheepishly but stays quiet.
Elia finds Clarysse Tyrell to be rather intriguing, though she hasn't had the chance to truly get to know the girl. At first she had seemed shy and demure, but she carries a quiet confidence underneath. Elia certainly prefers her to her sister Margaery, who in some ways reminds her of a young Cersei Lannister; the same shrewd glint in their eyes, the same cunning, the same goal. Though Clarysse may simply be better at hiding her ambitions than her sister. The same blood flows in their veins, after all. Elia pauses in her thoughts. She dislikes that she has become so bitter. Instead, she asks —
"Now forgive a mother's questioning, and tell me; do you love her?"
Straight to the point, this woman. Aegon falls silent for a moment, taking stock of what is in his heart. Affection, certainly. Lust, absolutely. But love? It is too early to say.
"I may be on my way," he says, and the words feel true as he speaks them.
Elia hums. "True love is rare. A chance to pursue it even more so." The words shift in the air like a warning, like a threat.
CLARYSSE HAD SLEPT BADLY THE night before the banquet. No surprise there, she'd always been an annoyingly light sleeper and even the slightest hint of excitement in the coming day is sure to wake her just after dawn.
Last night was no different. Since she knows she would spend following evening at the banquet, Clarysse had spent most of the night pacing in her room, going to the dresser to take out a gown, set it on the sofa and going back to bed only to change her mind and return to the wardrobe.
Nothing seems pleasant enough to her eyes even though when she'd had those gowns made, Clarysse was quite impressed by all of them.
Margaery insists that everything will be fine, that it isn't different from the balls they have attended back home but Clarysse knows better. Now that in the eyes of the lords and ladies, Aegon is courting her, she knows that she cannot afford to make even the slightest mistake. They will all be watching tonight.
