Empty chairs at empty tables

A few weeks had passed since she'd arrived in the capital. The initial fear of the unknown had died down a bit, mainly because the Queen had treated her with the utmost kindness and hospitality. Still, she couldn't exactly call Archeon her home yet. Maybe in due time, she told herself. In the meantime, she had gotten acquainted with the other handmaidens and a significant proportion of the other staff. It was all but difficult for her to make new friends, although she had to keep reminding herself to not trust everyone too easily. Growing up in d'Auvignon had taught her that not everyone was as trustworthy as they seemed to be and she tried her best to keep out of the political games that so many members of the bourgeoisie were playing.

Adaptation was something she was good at. In a couple of days, she had managed to pick up on most Valyrian customs. She’d taught herself to look like someone from Archeon: to adapt to Valyrian fashion and wear her hair the way the people from the capital did. It was only a matter of time before she blended into the palace perfectly. She even liked her job as a handmaiden. It mostly consisted of making sure the Queen looked immaculate and gossiping about everybody else with her colleagues. It was something she was cut out for.

When she was not needed, she spent her time walking around the palace grounds. The architecture was breath-taking, no matter how often she strolled through the building. Her small journey led her to the kitchen, where she often stopped to have a chat with the staff. Every now and then she was rewarded with a little snack. Today, however, she walked into someone she wasn’t expecting just yet. It was the King himself, reclining on one of the chairs at the grand dinner table. It looked like he was sleeping, so she made sure to be quiet. She caught herself looking at him for a minute, simply the fact that he was royalty was enough to draw her in for a few seconds. Not to mention the fact that he was perfectly handsome. Noting that thought, she immediately averted her gaze. She wondered what he was doing here, sleeping in a dining chair wasn't exactly the most comfortable place to rest. Maybe something was wrong. "Are you alright, your grace?" she then asked, in her trademark soft voice. Perhaps the sound wasn't even enough to wake him.

Outfit

At first, she’d been anxious to get to know her new employers. Royalty always carried a certain weight with it and she had no idea what to expect from it. Sure, she’d heard stories, but when were rumours ever true? In the face of her own fears, she’d told herself to just ride it out, to not think about what it would be like until she actually met the royal family. She’d come to find out that they were just like everybody else in most day-to-day aspects of life.

Ophelia's worried gaze was fixated on the glass of wine he was so loosely holding. It reminded her of her father, who had picked up the nasty habit of binge-drinking after her mother had passed away. The man would drink himself into a stupor in their family room every single evening, falling asleep in the enormous armchair they had there. He’d drop his glass, spilling wine or ale all over the floor and the rug. It was always her who had to clean up the mess, picking up the shards of glass he’d left behind.

So, she decided that it’d be a grand idea to try and prevent that sort of thing from happening. In her soft voice, she asked the King himself if he was alright. Her eyes widened as she heard a low grumble stem from him. For a second she feared that he was going to be angry with her for waking him, although she wasn’t even sure if the volume of her voice was enough to do so. Her heart jumped when she heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. She took a step back as the shards and the liquid scattered all over the floor. A quiet gasp left her mouth involuntarily. She looked frightened as she heard his soft growl. After the initial shock had vanished, she instinctively bowed down to start picking up the pieces of glass. She did it carefully, not wanting to cut herself on all the sharp edges. She didn’t look up at him until he addressed her personally. He’d asked if he could help her, to which she quickly shook her head. “No, no, I was just wondering if you were alright. I’m so terribly sorry I made you drop it, your grace.” Apologies always seemed to cascade from her lips like waterfalls. It always came so naturally to her to tell other people she was sorry. “I could fetch you a new one, if you'd like?” she quietly offered. The last thing she wanted, was for the king to despise her.

Outfit

Honestly, she wanted the earth to split open and swallow her up entirely when she noticed she’d woken him. She had a tendency to panic quickly, even at the smallest of inconveniences. In a matter of seconds, she'd convinced herself he would be angry with her, which was the reason that she just stared at him a bit sheepishly when he reacted calmly to her words.

Ophelia was convinced that her eyes grew in size as she watched him get up from his chair. Standing up, he looked even more imposing than before. A hint of surprise showed in her gaze as he kneeled down to help her pick up the various pieces of glass that were sprawled around on the floor. She hadn’t expected the king of all people to lower himself to this kind of task, but she appreciated the help. A small grin appeared on her face as she heard his remark. She wasn’t particularly fond of the scent of wine, but it was better than the smells that emerged from the kitchen every now and then. “Maybe we should spill some more glasses then,” she joked, focusing her gaze on the pile of glass that was accumulating in her hands. As soon as she felt like she got all the pieces, she threw them away, wiping her hands to rid herself of the wine that stained them.

With wide eyes, she looked up at him as he turned to her again. He requested another glass, to which she nodded. “Absolutely, your grace,” she told him, as she turned around to head for the kitchen again. Before she could make her way there, he told her to pour another glass of wine for herself. Apparently, she was going to take a break. With a small smile, she nodded and headed for the kitchen. There had only been a handful of occasions where she’d actually drank wine and she had come to find out that she couldn’t handle her liquor all that well. Usually, she kept it at a maximum of two glasses, to avoid possibly embarrassing or precarious situations. She fetched two glasses and a jug of wine – in case he wanted another glass after this – and walked back towards the area where he was sitting. She poured the wine into his glass as she listened to his words. Ophelia cocked an eyebrow at him when he suggested his wife could be a lot to handle. “I find the Queen to be absolutely delightful, your grace,” she answered quietly, pouring herself some wine too. “I consider myself lucky to be her handmaiden. But a break is always appreciated.” At the last sentence, she flashed a smile at him. A small token of appreciation for a little time off.

Outfit

It was hard work, taking care of the royal family. Ophelia didn’t mind, though, since she repeatedly told herself that the royals themselves must be even busier than their staff. She didn’t really know what exactly they were busy with, however. She had no idea what it took to run a country, but she figured it couldn’t be easy. Especially with the increasing amount of protest that were starting to pop up around the city. Rumour had it that it was all caused by one man, which Ophelia found hard to believe. She mostly tried to avoid the groups of protestors, hoping it would all blow over soon. The more she got to know the royal family, the more she found herself supporting them. That was the very reason he assured the King that she was fond of his wife, to which the man smiled. It hadn’t escaped Ophelia that Dacosta had been behaving differently as of late, although she wasn’t sure for what reason. Maybe it had something to do with the King, maybe not.

Once again, she bared her teeth in a bright smile when he asked if she was enjoying herself here. She nodded. “Honestly, I was quite anxious to go here at first. I’d never left my hometown before I came here,” she told him. “But the family has been very welcoming and I’ve managed to find my way pretty quickly.” To this day, it still surprised her how easily she fit in. Maybe it was the Valyrian blood that ran through her veins. She shook her head when he asked if she was from here. “I was born and raised in d’Auvignon,” she continued. “But my mother was Valyrian.” She wasn’t completely out of touch with Valyrian culture. Although she was raised with the Navarran culture, her mother made her pick up some Valyrian customs as well. In the meantime, she let the red liquid swirl around in her glass for a bit. Drinking wasn’t exactly her strong suit. After a glass or two it usually became painfully clear that she couldn’t handle her liquor very well, which is why she carefully started sipping at the glass just a little bit. After she swallowed down the red liquid, she looked at him again with a slight grin on her face. “I’m trying to think of something to ask you, but I feel like I know way more about you than you know about me already.” He was the King, of course the handmaidens were going to talk about him every now and then, and so did Dacosta. He was a public figure, after all. Still, it was strange to know someone like this before she’d ever talked to him.

Outfit

Every now and then, she looked over her shoulder to check the kitchen staff. She considered herself to be well-acquainted with most of them, and couldn’t help but feel like they were looking at her every now and then. Surely, it wasn’t every day that she was caught up in conversation with the King himself. People would think something of it, they always did. Words travelled fast, and lies usually spread even faster. Ophelia just decided to adopt the technique she usually aimed for: behave as innocently as possible. Generally, it worked out for her. She was considered timid, harmless, and she always managed to stay off everyone’s radar. Still, she couldn’t help feeling like she did something wrong somehow.

The King asked her a few questions about her heritage, something she appreciated, even though she knew he probably didn’t care. Chances were he would forget about her the second she left the room. A bittersweet smile appeared on her face as he addressed the topic of her mother. Although Ophelia and her mother had never really gotten along, her death had still been a heavy burden. “You are, your Grace. She passed away a few years ago, hunting outside d’Auvignon.” It was one of the many reasons she was so terribly afraid of leaving the safe confines of the city. To suppress any emotional reaction, she started softly nipping at her drink for a little bit.

Ophelia’s gaze was fixated on him as he smiled. It wasn’t something she saw all that much and it served as a reminder of how handsome he actually was. However, she was quickly distracted again as he started talking of secrecy. When he asked her if she’d heard any rumours lately, she felt her heart beating in her throat. She didn’t exactly know why, but it felt like he was laying out traps and she was about to step in one. Growing up in Navarre had taught her the very basics of the game that was so valiantly played throughout all ranks of nobility. The key concept was to not trust anybody and never spill your secrets, but Ophelia liked to give people the benefit of the doubt, even if she shouldn’t. She was aware of the fact that she should be cautious of her words, although she had no clue as to what she should look out for. “Not any particularly interesting ones,” she admitted, although a ‘but’ was about to roll right off of her tongue. “But the Queen has been behaving a bit differently as of late.” She had no idea if she should even tell him, since her loyalty was with the Queen, first and foremost. However, if anyone was able to help her, it would be her husband, right? “I don’t know if something’s actually going on at all, but she seems a little jumpy at times.” Concern was obvious from her voice. She paused for a second, before deciding to ask him a question. “Why is everybody so concerned with everyone else’s secrets?” She tilted her head a little as she looked at him, curious for an answer. She was completely aware of the fact that nothing was private, although she had no idea why. Secrets were meant to be kept secret, weren’t they?

Outfit

Ophelia had come to learn that being a handmaiden was almost like being furniture. Except for Dacosta, nobody really paid any attention to her. Most guests barely saw her as a person, nothing more than an object that was there to tend to their every need. They usually didn’t even notice she was in a room until they needed her to do something. At first, she hadn’t exactly liked it. Back home, she’d been someone with decent status, someone people paid attention to. It was a nice change of pace to have someone, a King nonetheless, actually take an interest in her once again. Even if it wasn’t entirely genuine.

She plastered a grateful smile on her face when Larethian offered her his condolences. She wasn’t entirely sure if her mother would be proud of her. Ophelia was nothing like her and they never got along. Still, she missed her. “Thank you, your Grace,” she quietly said, slightly anxious under his gaze that never seemed to depart from her. She seemed to peak his interest when she mentioned his wife. He seemed a little worried and Ophelia didn’t know whether those feelings were justified or not. She didn’t even know whether she should tell him this. After all, she wanted to be a confidante to Dacosta above else, which wouldn’t work out if she just spilled her secrets as soon as she heard of them. “Not really, I’m afraid,” she said, looking down at her feet for a second. “But I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’s a strong woman, after all.”[/b] Dacosta wasn’t one to openly show her weaknesses, a useful characteristic for a Queen.

Ophelia then proceeded to ask a rather naïve question and at first, she regretted it. She didn’t want him to think she was stupid or gullible. He answered her nonetheless. She carefully listened, softly nodding at his answers, feeling slightly uneasy as he started about backstabbers. She waited for a few seconds and then cleared her throat. “If I’m honest, there’s still a lot I have left to learn when it comes to these kinds of… delicate matters,” she started off. She wasn’t exactly a great liar, but she could keep a secret. She could read people, but never really knew when they were trying to extract secrets from her. She’d pledged her loyalty to the throne and was wanted to help them as much as she possibly could. “I never know whether people are honest or not. Or when they’re trying to get something out of me.” She felt herself trailing off, but somewhere, she think she wanted his help. To have him tell her what to do, how to behave, because sometimes she had no idea. Her gaze moved to his empty cup again. “A refill, your Grace?” she then asked. After all, she was a servant, first and foremost.

Outfit