"Ah, thank you and no, I have not but I will speak with Pricilla soon. I have missed my sister, and you father. Things at court here are so...different than how it was in Falor. So much excitement."
He paused turning to look his father in the eye, a knowing smile on his face devious as the devil himself.
"So many opportunities."
Loras Edwards was so much his fathers son. He was handsome, intelligent, and wickedly cunning. Loras had not told anyone about his plans, not even his father for he could not risk a letter falling into the wrong hands. Yet with his father here now, Loras truly felt unbeatable. He could already think circles around that fool King Alistair and even with that troublesome imp sniffing about what was there to fear when his count father here to help him. Loras could finally have everything he'd ever wanted, it was in his grasp he needed only reach out and take it. As for those thinking to stand in his way, the Edwards family united would strangle any opposition like growing vines up an old, gnarled tree.
Loras flicked a gaze at the crowd dancing and drinking and enjoying the ball. Confident no one was watching he turned to leave and nodded for his father to follow.
"Might we walk a moment, father? I could use your help with something."
"I hate these fucking parties."
Sandor's voice was as rough as mountain rock. Alistair chuckled at his fearsome kingsguard as he entered the hall, late as he'd intended. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to get all dressed up and put this damnable golden lion mask on. His father had brought it all the way from Casterly Rock, freshly forged from some of the finest goldsmiths in Lannis Port. He felt like a damned fool but as was the way so often these days, it was expected of him.
"You hate everything."
Brienne replied as she walked on the other side of the king, her armor was polished brilliantly which was is such stark contrast to the thick, ugly, black steel plate The Hound wore. It was odd to look upon Sandor Clegane, with that ferocious looking hound helm he wore it almost looked like he was here for the party if it wasn't for the massive great sword affixed to his back. Alistair was about to shoot his favorite surly guardsmen a quick remark when he caught the sight of something that stopped him cold.
Golden hair cascading down her back in unbound tresses. Her body, draped in the finest fabrics making her appear to float on the dance floor. Such grace she possessed Alistair struggled to fathom a human being with such effortless elegance. The mask she wore made him smile for he remembered giving it to her during their first year of marriage. His wife stirred his blood yet shame touched his heart and made him shiver. A saddened hope for what once was, he could not look away and instead just stood there in awe of her beauty and poise. Gods, he missed her. He missed what they had. It was if he had been living in a dream, and woke up to find his real life was closer to a nightmare. He hated it, and the life he had now and all he wanted was to fall asleep, and dream again.
"Wait here."
Alistair said suddenly, his voice hard with determination as he strode away from his guards towards the dance floor. Rosalie was kindly dancing with an old lord whose name Alistair didn't know. The kind old man seemed overjoyed the queen would be generous enough to grant him a dance. As the couple spun Rosalie twirled effortlessly and collided right into the chest of the man she'd sworn her heart to under sacred vow. Alistair caught her as if he'd done it a hundred times, one hand around her waist and the other finding her hand as if they were made to fit together.
Their eyes met, behind masks but it didn't matter. They knew each other, they would always know each other. Even in the coldest winters their fires would call to each other.
"You look beautiful tonight."
There was a hesitation between husband and wife, holding each other on the dance floor. Surprise mixed with joy, fear and apprehension. Alistair could feel the butterflies in his stomach as if he were little more than a green boy nervous around girls, ironic the woman making him feel this way was his own wife.