A Lady or a Cock Whore? Ch. 03

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."

Arya's eyes flickered back to the son, and she couldn't stop an expression of disgust from crossing her features as she realized he was still staring at her bosom. She hid it quickly, but the mother saw and Arya knew that she had seriously misstepped.

"I hear you are from Parnage," the woman continued, poison in her voice. "It seems a small, out of the way place with nothing to recommend it. You are hardly removed from the beasts in such conditions, I am told."

Arya paused before speaking, taking a moment to form a suitable reply.

"It is certainly small and remote," she said carefully, "but I am glad I was raised there. It is a simple place full of genuine, civil people - a luxury of the country, some might say. We live near the beasts, but do not become them."

She spoke quietly, in a calm, deferential voice. No one listening could have fairly accused her of suggesting that the Duchess was uncivil or beastly, but the woman's eyes narrowed in dislike as she picked up on the girl's connotation nonetheless.

She heard a chuckle behind her and turned, taking in the form of the man who had approached without her noticing. He was probably in his mid-twenties with a thick, dark shock of hair across his brow that was rather untidy, and his clothes were wealthy but a season old, she guessed by their cut. His clear lack of interest in the latest fashion recommended him to Arya even more than his good looks.

His eyes twinkled as he said, "I am sorry to interrupt, but I have something to add to the conversation." He bowed briefly, ignoring the mother's deep curtsy and her son's surprise.

"Country living certainly does wonders for one's temperament, yet I fear that even the most perfect of situations cannot entirely repress the beast in all of us... don't you agree, Duchess Einess?"

The fat woman drew in a shocked breath. "How could you say such a thing, my Lord? I, for one, have never felt the primal urges of a beast. And I doubt I know any proper men or women who have!"

"Ah, excuse me if you thought I was accusing you of being little more than a beast, certainly no one would suggest such a thing." Arya could have sworn that the gentleman winked at her as he spoke, but his glance was so brief she couldn't be sure.

"I was simply speaking metaphorically about human nature, of course."

The Madame nodded her head, out of her depth but trying to remain haughty.

"Of course. Well, I would certainly have been surprised to hear anything so ridiculous out of your mouth, Lord Eric. On matters of philosophy and metaphor I must defer to you. Please excuse us."

He bowed grandly and the Duchess flounced away, feathers ruffled, dragging her poor son behind her.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Lord Eric, Arya, and her uncle assessed one another.

After the men had exchanged a long look, the young lord turned to smile at her, his hand held gracefully before him. "Would you like to dance, my Lady?"

Arya smiled and took it, after receiving an approving, albeit surprised look from her uncle. The young man led her through the crowd to the dance floor, ignoring the looks they received. Arya felt a bit uncomfortable as his arm circled her waist, his touch warm but firm. She had been taught how to dance by her masters, but had never been held this close by a man her age before. Except for him, she thought, blushing madly as she was reminded of her encounter at the river.

The man smiled cheekily down at her, assuming that her blush was feminine modesty. "No need for embarrassment, my Lady, despite the crude nature of my remarks to the Duchess. I am really quite honorable, I assume you."

Arya looked up at him with a start. "I'm sure you are," she laughed.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked, surprised by her reaction.

Arya shook her head as she carefully removed any expression from her face, wishing she had not laughed. "I meant nothing by it, sir. I just meant that I'm sure you are a very proper gentleman."

"I certainly look the part, don't I?" he replied with a wink, recognizing her distance and wanting to bring back her smile.

"I have been remiss, however. I have not properly introduced myself." He paused in the dance, disrupting those around him as he bowed to her, taking her hand. "It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya. I am Lord Eric, one of the many frivolous young men I am sure you will meet. However, I have the distinct honor of being the first to dance with you." His lips curved in an ironic smile.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance," she replied politely.

They resumed dancing, quiet for a moment. Arya looked at him through her lashes. It wasn't difficult to do surreptitiously, for he was no more than a few inches taller than her. Still, he noticed her curiosity and smiled down at her.

She noticed that his eyes were light blue, a surprising and stunning color for one with skin and hair as dark as his. He looked Mediterranean, with his olive complexion and black locks.

She faltered for a moment, before asking in a rush, "Excuse me, but what exactly did you mean when you were speaking of the 'beast inside us all?'"

He continued to gaze at her, but his look grew intent. He replied lightly, "I didn't mean very much by it, I simply wanted to rattle Duchess Einess. I suppose it was a bit rude, but she can be insufferable at times, and sometimes I can't help but be a bit of a cad. Especially around other nobility."

He smiled cheekily, and she was startled by his honesty. It was the sort of comment she had been explicitly informed was off-limits.

"Oh," she murmured, a bit disappointed. For a second she had felt a certain kinship, a pinprick of hope that perhaps she wasn't the only noble who felt such intense feelings at times; not to mention a certain animalistic lust, which everyone else seemed to think was solely in the province of men.

Noting her silence, Eric added, "Still, I suppose I was being serious in a way." He spoke innocuously, looking around at the other couples as though more interested in their movements than the conversation.

"Really?" she asked, equally nonchalant, her quickening breath the only giveaway as to her deep interest. "How so?"

"Well, have you ever felt a desire to break free from our social constraints? To openly show your anger, distaste, or... some other desire?" His voice was husky as he spoke quietly in Arya's ear, holding her close for a moment.

She drew back and looked at him, confounded. She knew that a bold response would be inappropriate, but she was desperate to know if she was alone in her deviant thoughts. She settled on a vague reply, saying "Such thoughts would be unladylike."

"Ah," he replied, looking away.

"Or so I am told," she added carefully. She tried to read him but his face was a composed mask. The only glimmer of realness beneath Eric's apparent disinterest was the heat of his gaze as his eyes assessed her with equal intensity.

"The Duchess was right, saying that I was raised in a place where people are... closer to beasts than they are here. I was raised with honor and gentility, of course, but I was not so constrained in my behavior as grand city folk like herself. Or you, for that matter."

He raised an eyebrow, and Arya blushed at her brazen words, instantly kicking herself. She quickly clarified, "Not that I have ever done anything a lady should not. I simply meant - " she frowned, unsure how to continue. Finally, "class and dignity are not so important when all hands are needed for our lands to prosper, I suppose."

"Thank you for that clarification, my lady," Eric remarked a bit facetiously, "For a moment I had the feeling you were about to reveal something far more interesting."

She looked away, afraid he would somehow read her thoughts. "I assure you, sir, I am not quite so interesting as you all seem to expect."

"Just a pretty face then," he commented, his voice detached as he once again scanned the room in apparent boredom.

Arya flinched, disappointed and then annoyed. "I would hope an educated man would recognize that not every pretty face hides a vapid, vain simpleton." She knew her words were not entirely proper, but his disdain irked her. "And that being the center of attention for 5 minutes doesn't make one 'interesting'."