Veras was even grander than Arya had expected, full of delicate spires and immense stone mansions. Even the poorer sections that they had to pass through in order to reach their destination were surprisingly nice. Still, there were inevitably children to be seen running barefoot through the streets with tattered clothes and gaunt frames, and while Luc assured his sister that they were far better off than orphans in most other cities, Arya was pained by the sight of it. The young woman couldn't help herself from throwing what scant change she had out the carriage window despite the warnings and orders of those around her. She felt bad throwing the coins to them, like scraps to a dog, but her guardians refused to stop the carriage for her and it was the best she could do.
They finally reached the wealthier sections of the city and Arya let out numerous cries of delight as she took in the sights. The tree-lined streets were interspersed with miniature castles, bright gardens and terraces. The men and women walking or riding past were dressed in luxurious clothes, their hair done and faces flawless, no matter their age. After the delight wore off, Arya began to feel ashamed of her own plain clothes and grimy exterior. She asked Madame Marguerite hesitantly if she would even be allowed into court looking the way she did. Her tutor let out an uncharacteristic laugh and informed her that she would be receiving a brand new wardrobe when they arrived, along with personal assistants to do her hair and makeup.
"They would certainly not receive you at court without such preparation," Madame Marguerite informed her, beginning to look annoyed as she realized that Arya must have been daydreaming through more lessons than she'd realized. "The people of Veras have the highest standards and if your father wasn't quite so rich you would never have made it past the gates of this quarter."
"You'd think such beautiful people, privileged to live in such a beautiful place, would be more welcoming," Arya mused. "The nobility are supposed to be the prime example of gentility and a noble spirit."
Madame Marguerite paused, seeming to choose her words carefully before adding, "Things look very grand to you, I know, but I have spent many years in Veras and the high and mighty are not always as grand as they look."
"In what way? I mean I know some are selfish of course, and you've warned me about the social maneuverings, but surely those here are worthy of respect and honor," Arya argued, her parents and the local elites the only examples she had of good breeding.
Madame Marguerite shook her head. "You will find out soon enough that things are not the same here as they are in Parnage. I've been telling you that for years," she criticized. "And the only advice I can give you is to watch your tongue and keep your thoughts to yourself. You have been given excellent training and if you are able to keep up the court façade as we have taught you you will do fine."
"I know, I know," Arya grumbled, "I have to pretend to be the perfect lady and not swear or ride or laugh or play or people won't like me."
"It is not a matter of like or dislike, it is a matter of survival."
With that Madame Marguerite shut her mouth and refused to speak any more on the matter.
Arya pondered this conversation as they continued to drive past larger and larger mansions.
Why am I to be a pretty face without emotion or free thought? I assume that is what she means, although I cannot fathom why that would matter. Because how am I supposed to attract a husband if I cannot show people who I am? Who would want to marry someone they don't truly know?
These were questions she had asked herself, and others, many times over. She had yet to receive a satisfactory answer. Typically, they just replied "because that's how it is."
Why is it wrong to just have fun and want to spend time with people you like? Maybe it will make sense when I get to court and see it all for myself. It better, because I'm sick of not understanding people.
Her inner griping was put on hold as they reached their destination and she was escorted to the main door of the mansion in front of her. A servant ran inside and a moment later her aunt and uncle exited the home, flanked by two lines of servants. They were both plump and pleasant looking, happy to embrace her and kiss her cheeks fondly as they asked how her journey was.
Arya blushed as she remembered the humiliation she had suffered in the river, but managed to provide a satisfactory reply.
She spent the next several days being pampered and primped, and attempting to get to know her aunt and uncle. Her uncle she saw rarely, except at their formal family dinners. Her aunt was also busy, attempting to create interest in her niece by going to parties and dinners, raving about her niece's beauty and wit.
When she
was
with her aunt, she continued to learn how to navigate the world of the court, but this time from the perspective of true nobility, rather than a tutor who witnessed it secondhand. Many of the lessons her aunt conveyed were tips and pieces of advice that she had been taught by Master John and Madame Marguerite, but some were more interesting.
"I know that your master will not have spoken of this to you, as it is of a... sensitive nature," her Aunt Agatha said one evening, giving Arya an appraising look. "You may have learned some things about the relations between men and women, have you not?" Arya blushed and nodded. "Hopefully not too many things?" her aunt asked, her gaze sharp.
"No, Aunt," Arya replied dutifully. "I have heard gossip but I have never had relations with a man."
"Good," Agatha said, visibly relieved. "There are many country girls who come here with far more experience than is good for them." She paused again. "You will learn of these things in time, after your marriage of course. I will give you one piece of advice, however. Relations with a man may be uncomfortable and distasteful, but it is a necessary part of marriage and you must always pretend to enjoy it. You see, it is something men want - often more than anything else you may have to offer, other than giving them an heir. During your time here you must tread a very thin line between reminding suitors that you can and will provide such relations, without allowing them to actually touch you."
Arya blushed, but not for the reason Agatha suspected. She flushed in a mixture of shame and arousal as she remembered how close to orgasm she had come when she had been violated in the river, and couldn't understand why it had been pleasurable when all other women seemed to think it was wrong?
He was right,
she thought in despair, feeling dirty and lowly, nothing more than an animal.
I am not a lady. Ugh, Marguerite was right to tell me to hide my true feelings! Surely no one would want a wife who takes such enjoyment in humiliation.
"Thank you Aunt, I will remember your words," Arya responded dutifully, downcast. Her aunt didn't seem to notice Arya's change in expression as she began chattering away about dresses and hairstyles, clearly relieved to be changing the subject from one so distasteful.
Arya ignored her, lost in her own thoughts, guilt and worry gnawing at her.
___________________________________________________________________________
Several days later, Arya found herself in an enormous silk and tulle gown, floating through the gilded gates of the palace proper. Part of her hair was twined in braids which formed an intricate headband, the rest fell in long, curled locks down her back. Her makeup was simple, her luminous skin the main feature. She felt constricted by the corset, used to the more relaxed stays, but knew her bosom looked larger than it really was and her waist much smaller, and apparently that's what mattered.
They were heading towards a grand ballroom filled with light and laughter, the younger generation dancing and chatting. Their older relatives watched carefully, their faces expressionless as they talked amiably to their neighbors. Arya was shaking with nerves as her uncle led her regally towards the gathering ahead.
Several people turned to watch her, their eyes sharp and full of interest, but the majority seemed to be ignoring her. Trying to block everyone else out, Arya walked through the crowd towards the dais where the King and Queen sat demurely on their thrones.
Unable to resist, Arya's eyes flickered up every now and then as she walked, gauging the crowd's reaction. She was surprised and uncomfortable to realize that those who were "ignoring" her were not quite so oblivious to her presence as she had first thought. She was receiving many sidelong glances, even more than head-on ones, and that fact made every lesson she had been learning sink in for the first time; She realized that everything here would be sideways, rather than direct, and she instantly hated everyone. She raised her head in pride and disdain, though she kept her expression as blankly pretty as a doll's.
The music stopped as she approached the dias, and now everyone turned to stare openly. A stately gentleman approached and her uncle quietly informed the man of Arya's name, birthdate, and family status. He even shared the amount of her dowry, which made Arya wince as she heard whispers ripple through the crowd.
The gentleman introduced her to the court, and the King and Queen dipped their heads in acknowledgment. Arya curtsied prettily, blushing. They seemed unimpressed and ignored her presence after that brief acknowledgement, which made Arya blush more fiercely. Her uncle led her away without another word.
"That went well," he claimed quietly, looking satisfied.
"Went well?" Arya questioned. "But they didn't say anything!"
He looked at her with a warning glance. "This is not the place to speak in depth. Know that their silence is far preferable to their remarks, however. Several girls have not made it past their gaze, the disapproval of the King and Queen will ruin any desire a man might have had for the woman's company."
"But why would they disapprove? What were the qualities which they found so abhorrent?"
Her uncle shrugged, whispering as softly as he could, "Sometimes they were ugly, or stupid, or came from families whom the royalty didn't deem important enough. Sometimes the Queen was simply having a bad day and was jealous of the girl for being better looking than her. But I really should say no more."
Arya looked at him with wide eyes, glad that she had not known this beforehand. She doubted that she would have had the courage to stand up against such opposition if she had known of their fickle nature. She was relieved when her uncle led her to the outskirts of the gathering, needing a moment to compose herself.
She hardly had a moment of peace before a large woman strode forcefully towards them, practically dragging her son behind her. He was small and timid, and skinny in the extreme. Arya curtsied and the woman and her uncle exchanged niceties. Arya smiled at the boy, sensing his nervousness. He looked back at her with a quizzical expression before staring rudely at her bosom for almost a full minute.
His mother finally turned to Arya, her gaze scorching the girl as her eyes raked over her.
"Lady Arya, we are delighted to make your acquaintance. I'm sure you will be a lovely addition to our little parties." Her voice was deep and loud, drawing the gazes of those around.
"Thank you Duchess," Arya relied quietly. "I am honored to be here."
