The hall was alive with music and laughter, golden candlelight flickering off polished shields and flowing banners. The feast was in full swing, but at the high table, Queen Aelinor sat alone, her husband Aerys having excused himself hours earlier to pore over ancient scrolls. Her untouched goblet had been refilled twice already, and the ache of loneliness gnawed at her chest as she watched the lords and ladies below, laughing, dancing, living.

She drained her cup and signaled for another. Tonight, she thought, I am not the queen abandoned. Tonight, I will not be invisible.

The wine flowed, and soon the stiffness left her shoulders. When a daring young knight asked for her hand in a dance, she laughed, a real laugh, not the polite, stifled chuckle the court expected of her, and rose. The music swelled as she twirled onto the floor, her golden hair catching the firelight, her emerald-green eyes sparkling brighter than they had in years.

She danced with one man, then another, her steps growing bolder, her laughter louder. She allowed herself to have fun, not binding herself to her own loneliness. When another young knight approached her she just took his hands without thinking to answer. When she twirled she asked him. "What is your name ser?"