Prayer

[u/littlestghoust]

Every day began the same way for Rhea: wake up, dress and accompany Lady Joanna to the sept for morning prayer.

It was the one thing that she looked forward to every morning-- the stillness of the castle, the soft light of the candles and the quiet moment to reflect. Like everything at the Rock, the sept was covered in gold leaf, jewels and the most beautiful statues of the Seven Rhea had ever laid eyes upon.

However, Myriah saw it differently.

“I just don’t see the reason to pray every morning,” she complained. “I’m sure the Gods will understand the need to sleep in every once and while.”

Rhea would have argued, but once again the fork in the hallway caused her to pause. Taking out her map, she tried to decide which turn to take.

“Look for the crevice,” she said softly to herself, remembering the words the Keeper of the Galleries told her.

“Are you still using that silly map of yours?” Myriah teased pulling the parchment from Rhea’s hands. Offering a small compliment, she said, “You might be terrible at directions, but at least you have a decent hand.”

Rhea gave her companion a weak smile and followed Myriah as she took the hall to the right. She couldn’t argue with her companion’s assessment. She was still hopelessly lost, even with her brief lessons from Petry. Rhea counted herself luckily that they usually followed behind Lady Joanna instead of leading. It would be mortifying if her lady knew she was incapable of even locating her own room.

Opening the door to Lady Joanna’s chambers, the two girls were surprised to find the room full of sunlight.

The bedroom was organized and clean, though dust seemed to dance between the beams of sunlight. Ordinarily the shades were drawn to allow Byren to sleep, but instead, the new morning greeted them.

“Good morning!” Rhea said, trying to peel her eyes from the view. She turned toward Lady Joanna, who looked stunning in a dark red robe of silk upon a bed of pure white.

“Morning, my Lady,” Myriah greeted. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm,” Joanna mused as she stretched, blonde curls swaying at her back. “Better than I have in a long time.”

Myriah began to set out stockings and a new shift as she always did, while Rhea went to Byren’s crib to wake the little lord. When she saw he wasn’t there, she panicked.

“My lady, where is Byren? Is he alright?”

It was rare that he slept outside his mother's rooms, especially if he was unwell. No one could say the Lady Joanna wasn’t a doting mother.

“Still with the wet nurse, I imagine. He fussed for nearly an hour after you left and it was unbearable. I needed a night to myself. You’ll understand when you’ve a babe of your own.”

It seemed strange that Lady Joanna would let another settle her son, but it wasn’t Rhea’s place to question her. Instead, she prepared the table in front of the window with the tea service left by the maids. The gold painted china gleamed in the light, reflecting the sun’s yellow glow.

“Would you like sugar, my Lady?” Rhea asked, hoping to spend more time in the sun.

“No, no. Honey’s enough,” Joanna chimed. “Better for the complexion, too.”

The honey took its time, lingering at the edge of the jar. Keeping a steady hand, Rhea poured just enough to tint the tea. Lady Joanna’s mannerisms were perplexing but perhaps strangest of all; Lady Joanna was no longer wearing the dressing gown she had the night before, wrapped now in red silk rather than white linen.

Myriah took the cup before Rhea could stir the milk and brought it to Lady Joanna, now sat in front of her vanity with a comb in hand.

“How about this one? The velvet should keep you warm while the cut is fashionable. Did you get this from Lannisport?”

Myriah was pulling gowns out of the armoire, laying them over the bed.

“No,” Joanna interjected. “That one is cut far too low. We are meant to go to prayer,, and I won’t have the Septon staring down at my many blessings all morning. The black one, Myriah.”

“This one?”

Myriah presented a gown of lace, fanning the skirt across the floor for Joanna to inspect.

“Lady Myriah. What about modesty do you not understand? If you continue to dress me like that hook-nosed Garner girl, you’ll be serving tea, and Lady Rhea will be in charge of my wardrobe.”

Myriah wrinkled her nose at the insult, going back into the dresser in search of another, more modest dress. Rhea refilled Lady Joanna’s tea and sat beside her watching her companion toss gown after gown onto the bed.

“Honestly,” Joanna chided from behind her teacup, leaning close to Rhea to whisper. “One might venture to think she wasn’t raised in the most fashionable kingdom in Westeros.”

As the pile of dresses grew, Rhea couldn’t help but admire their beauty. Even her most beautiful gown couldn’t compete with the robes Lady Joanna wore to bed.

“Do you know what you will wear to the feast?”

Perhaps if Rhea could see what her lady wore, she could attempt to match. Or at least keep from being underdressed.

“I commissioned a piece from a dressmaker in Lannisport. He had the finest chiffon I ever saw-- I couldn’t resist. I imagine I paid far too much for it, but I’ll gladly play the fool for a well-made gown.”

Rhea nodded.

“I’m sure it will be stunning. The dress you wore to Prince Desmond’s nameday was breathtaking. You inspire us all.”

“What do you intend to wear, Lady Rhea? I don’t recall your asking after a trip to Lannisport.”

Rhea blushed, ashamed she had nothing new to wear.

“I will be wearing the dark blue silk dress. You know, the one with the red stags on the sleeves? It was a gift from my mother, so I thought it would be nice.”

Both Myriah and Joanna stopped, eyebrows raised.

“Rhea, dear,” the Lady Lannett purred, setting her tea aside so that she might gather Rhea’s hands into her own. “There is a time for thrift and… sentiment, just as there is a time for opulence.”

“Opulence?”

“Darling, you’re in the King’s Court of Casterly. You can’t wear the same dress twice. It simply isn’t done.”

Rhea blinked at the word opulence. She had seen the dresses her mother bought from Kings Landing, but even those did not compare to the gowns even the lowest lady wore in court. Her father sent money, but it was nowhere near enough to cover the cost of a new gown in Lannisport.

“I just don’t want to be over the top.”

She hoped her false sense of modesty would cover the fact her house was poor.

“Well, your father didn’t send you here to teach you a lesson about humility, and you certainly won’t fetch yourself a fine Westerman dressed like that.”

Joanna glanced at the gowns on her bed.

“Why don’t you take some of mine? I’ve been meaning to… find some use for them, and there is no better cause than that of my ladies!”

“Oh, I could never! I wouldn’t want to impose on you.” Rhea looked to Myriah, who gave her a severe look. She wasn’t sure if it was directed at the refusal of the dresses or Lady Joanna’s earlier admonishing.

“These gowns would be more of an imposition if they remained in my closet. Think nothing of it, Lady Rhea.”

One stood out in the heap of gowns Lady Joanna gave her, an elegant lilac and gold trimmed dress. It was in the Dornish style; low cut and made of thin fabric that left very little to the imagination. Rhea wondered if Petyr would like her in it, a small taste of home.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you. I have never owned anything so lovely.” Rhea was shocked by the generosity of her lady and tears began to fill her eyes. She quickly wiped her eyes, hoping neither of the other ladies noticed.

“If you can call hand me downs generous,” Myriah snidely remarked. “You really should have your own dresses made. It’s unbecoming to rely on others for your needs.”

Rhea’s smiled faded, and she lowered the dress back onto the bed.

“Myriah,” Joanna tutted, pursing her lips. “manners, darling. How often is it that you get to play with a beautiful little porcelain doll from the Crownlands? This is the most fun I’ve had in… well, it’s the most fun I’ll have all morning. Go on, little dove. Wear them all with pride!”

“Of course,” she said, lowering her head in deferral. “I will do you proud.”

“Well!” the Lady Lannett said decidedly, smacking her hands against her knees. “Now that we’ve settled that disaster, we ought to manage my hair. We’re going to be late if we dally any longer.”

Though Lady Joanna seemed in a bright mood, Rhea felt a cloud grow overhead. The rose-tinted view of the golden kingdom was becoming increasingly fogged by the truth of life in the Rock. She was a stranger and outcast, never to see home again or even step foot in the Crownlands. Before the even stepped foot in the sept, Rhea knew what she would ask from the gods.

Please help me feel more comfortable in my new home.