“Have you heard, Daena?” Aelora whispers conspiratorily, leaning towards her sister over the table.
It is much too warm, and equally as bright. Daenora feels as though she is about to melt. Her tea is too hot for the current weather; she has no desire to drink it.
“Heard what?” She inclines her head towards the blonde as she sets her cup onto the saucer.
“That Aerion was attacked by a hedge knight, and has demanded a trial of seven to prove him guilty. He is going to fight alongside Prince Maekar and Daeron — and the two members of the kingsguard who went to ashford with them.”
Daenora looks confused, and her sister mirrors her expression mockingly. “If it is a trial of seven, who are the other two who will fight on Aerion’s side?”
Aelora shrugs. “Some of the household guard, I suppose. But it will be the first trial of seven in a hundred years, over some mummers' play, but all the same.”
“What do you even mean it's over a play? A play is not a crime that a knight can be charged with.” Daena argues.
“Aerion attacked some puppeteer girl; because she played the knight Serwyn of the mirror shield, and slayed the dragon, which seemed to have enraged him. I hear he broke all of the fingers on one of her hands.”
“He attacked her over a play from the age of heroes?” She asks with furrowed brows, and her sister leans in once more to whisper her response, “Everyone knows he thinks himself a dragon.”
Chuffing, the elder continues, “Sense is not his strongest suite. It never has been.”
“But that’s ridiculous...did he not slay a horse in his first match?” Daenora asks confusedly.
“He pierced its throat with his lance on the second pass, it fell on its rider. I don’t know what happened to him” Pushing her honeyed hair from her eyes, Aelora reclines back into her chair.
Daena’s face falls, and she reels away to gauge the legitimacy of her sister’s claims “That’s horrid. That can’t be true.”
The older girl rolls her eyes. “I am not lying. I heard it from Ser Gaunt, who received word just this morning; it is perfectly plausible, Aerion has always been like that.”
“Everyone says he is mad, I suppose they were correct.” Daenora says, grimacing down at her tea.
—
Her mother sits across from her, and Aelora is to her left.
The two look so very alike. They have identical delicate sloped noses and straight golden hair.
The only similarity Daenora shares with her mother is her eyes. They share the same clear eyes, blue like robin’s eggs, flecked with brown.
Daena’s hair is creamy white and streaked in dark brown, rather than a pearlescent silver-gold like her uncles or cousins. Falling in loose waves, she has Myrielle braid it prettily everyday.
Lady Alys looked at her youngest with her kindred brown-dappled eyes as her daughter took a sip of her too warm tea. “Your cousin Aerion is returning from Lys this afternoon.”
Aelora raises a brow. “Last month marked his sixth year in Essos, did it not?”
Daenora perks up. “I heard he was with a mercenary company..”
“That is something he would do. He couldn’t spend a half decade in Lys’s pillowhouses, he’s far too restless for that.”
“His restlessness is why he was sent to Essos in the first place.” The younger snorts derisively.
Their mother sucks in a breath, silently warning the girls against speaking down on their betters. “When he makes for Summerhall in three days' time, you are to go with him, Daenora.” She looked up, puzzled by the prospect.
“I’m sorry?”
A conflicted expression flashes over the older woman’s face, but she answers calmly, if not uneasily, “His grace, the king, and Prince Maekar, have both agreed that it was time that Aerion wed…”
Daena’s heart sinks
“...given that you are eligible to, and past the age you were expected to marry, it has been decided that you would be his best fit.”
Daenora cannot find the words to say to stop her mother, anything she can bring herself to say will doubtlessly hurt her more than help her.
“Your uncle seeks an agreeable woman for Aerion, and we believe that yours would best compliment his temperament…”
“More like his temper.” Aelora scoffs into her cup.
“That is enough from you.” Alys spits at the older of the two, but softens up with her youngest. “It was only officially decided a week ago, we were…unsure of how to tell you, but it is for the best, Daena.”
“I understand.” Her lips form a line, and she sets down her cup. Her dress, slicked with sweat, clings to her back, and she sits up to adjust the blue silks.
—
When the prince’s ship is spotted across the bay, Daenora and her kin are ushered to the docks, and wait dreadfully for the ship to be made fast. It is a massive carrack, with four masts and a hull painted in gold and sterling stripes, large enough to comfortably transport grain to feed the whole of Kings landing.
Daena spots her cousin’s imperious profile just past the colorfully striped gunnel as he emerges from a cabin which she assumes were his lodgings during the voyage. He looks much the same as she remembers him to be six years ago.
She feels confusion tickling her skin when two scantily clad women follow from the very same quarters with their Essosi dresses draped across their bodies clumsily, as if they had dressed in a rush.
When she realizes two silver haired women are prostitutes she tense her jaw to keep from frowning petulantly.
Her betrothed has only just returned from exile, and before he even steps foot on Westerosi soil he has dishonored her by practically presenting his family with the whores he fucked on the voyage across the narrow sea.
It is hard to believe he looks the exact same at two and twenty as he did at six and ten, but as she looks upon him she cannot pick out any discrepancy between the two images, save for a few small scars on his jaw and neck and the length of his hair, which is now just shy of his shoulders, falling in pretty waves of silver-gold which glimmered in the dying daylight.
The wounds that had been healing as he departed, which she recalls as having been quite nasty, have disappeared. Aerion is as beautiful as he was before that fateful trial.
She feels her heart clench painfully as the gangplank is dropped to deck by the portly Lyseni mariner, who gestures to the not-so-charming prince. After a horribly long and still moment, her recently unbanished cousin descends the footway to meet his waiting family.
“Aerion,” Lady Alys smiles perfunctorily to the young man, and her voice comes out politely dreary. “It is a joy to have you back, nephew.”
“I am delighted to receive such a warm welcome on my return.” Aerion says while smiling grossly at his uncle, aunt, and cousins. The boat’s crew begins to unload the prince’s things.
Her father seems to grow restless, and her mother attempts to soothe him with a gentle touch to his shoulder. The maddened prince settles nominally, squeezing his wife’s hand gently and adding, “Lys is- Lys is beautiful, is it not?”
Aerion smiles narrowly at Prince Rhaegel’s comment. “Yes. Lys is a wonderful city, Uncle.”
“It is a joy to be back...” His gaze sweeps across all of his family who have gathered to greet him upon his arrival, but lingers on Daena longer and more shamelessly than she could have ignored. It seems he is aware of their betrothal. She wonders if he is pleased with their engagement, or if his gaze is more resentful than appreciative.
“How has Westeros fared in my absence?” He looks back to her mother charmingly.
“Kings Landing has been…” The woman trails off. “...the city has been lively — though I hear Summerhall has been quiet, if not dull, without you.”
The girl can make out a clean line of pale scarred over tissue running from the apple of his throat down his sternum and beneath his linen shirt. Mayhaps the rumors that he’s been a mercenary are true, or maybe he upset the wrong Essosi in his time away from home.
His gaze returns to Lady Alys, and he cocks his head. “Does his grace simply deign not to greet his dear nephew upon his return, or has he opted to keep to his books rather than see the sun on such a fine day?”
“His grace is occupied by matters of statecraft, at present; the queen has bade me tell you he will join you for supper, nephew.” The older woman replies, continuing courteously, “I am sure you are exhausted after your long journey, Ser. It would be best to rest in the hours before dinner.”
“That would be nice, Aunt Alys.” Aerion says, almost courteously. Daenora would have believed his time in the free cities changed him if she did not catch the cruel glint in his eye.
Daena’s father falls back with Aelora and Aelor as the small royal procession makes its way back to the keep. Aerion walks alongside her mother, and she trails just behind them. Her mother’s hair is near as light as the princeling beside hers, braided and pinned into a secure bun, stern where the prince’s streams slightly behind him as he walks.
Before dinner she cries to her happily married older sister about how she has been shamed by her husband-to-be.
“He is a man, men have needs.” Aelora assured her that his wrongdoings were part of his nature, twirling a brown strand of hair on the younger girl’s head. “Doubtlessly he will be taken by you and seek your company once you two are wed.”
Aelor didn’t seek the company of fleabottom whores — if he did he was subtle in his endeavors, and brought no shame to his sister-wife. Daena isn’t sure she’d even bat an eye at the prospect if he didn’t bring the wanton women before her.
“He had those women before mother and father and if the King cared enough about me to see his return he and Lady Aelinor would have seen them! I look like a pathetic fool — set to wed Aerion of all people.”
Aelora only sighs softly, to which Daena insists, “I’d sooner marry Daeron.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” the blonde raises a brow in amusement at the notion.
The cream-haired girl sits up to argue, “A drunk lecher is better than a cruel one.”
Aelora purses her lips, looking at her sister with a solemn expression. “If you ever have reason to fear him, you will have Prince Maekar in reach at Summerhall. Our uncle is not one to neglect a lady in need.”
This conversation only sullies Daena’s mood further.
—
At supper, Daenora enters the dining hall last, just behind her brother and sister. Her uncle, the King, sat at the head of the table, and his queen at his right hand. Beside the queen was Aerion.
Her dress of a virescent blue velvet that just touches the notch of her throat. She grooms herself as she takes her seat, smoothing a hand over her skirt and fiddling with the loose end of her braid.
This dress, along with several others, was finished a week ago, gifts of her mother for no apparent reason rather than her wardrobe being ‘a touch passé’.
She thought she dressed well, but it seems she isn’t as fashionable as she had thought.
As she takes her seat beside her sister, and finds herself directly across from Aerion, who smiles at her guilefully. She feels her throat close up when they lock eyes. She’s still angry with him, but he’s a specious man, and good at it. She can’t bring herself to look away when he does.
”It is a pleasure to dine with you, your grace.” The Prince smiles at his uncle, Aerys. He seems to be enjoying putting on a pious front to his family.
He gives her a charming look when her watchful gaze catches his eye. He doesn't seem to mind it, though, when he finds her staring at him. He smiles at his betrothed as though he hadn’t spent three weeks on a boat with two Lyseni whores doing things the gods shudder to think about.
“The pleasure is mine, nephew. I regret not seeing you on your return, how was the journey back?” The king asks, unfolding a napkin and placing it on his lap. Most everyone else at the table has or is doing so.
“It was better than I’d thought it would be, I had company. I wasn't bored.” His companions are likely already on the streets of silk seeking a pillowhouse to stay at. The two likely regretted their decision to cross the narrow sea the moment the ship docked and they were hit with the smell of horse shit and fish.
The idea that her mother had gifted her the new dresses in preparation for her betrothed’s arrival crosses her mind, but dismisses the thought with a resigned sigh. Even imagining the misfortune of others wasn’t lifting her mood, so it would be best simply not to dwell on upsetting things.
—
The following morning, Daenora breaks her fast on her balcony, which overlooks the gardens. She spots Prince Aerion, with freshly cut hair, laid across a stone bench beneath a white, vine-dressed gazebo.
She finds she prefers him with his (minimally) less dashing appearance; otherwise she would feel outshined by him. He looks as he did six years ago, with his close cut hair and wily smile.
He is very nearly prettier than her, a fact which would make her an endless pit open up in her heart.
Daena doesn’t find Aerion to be any less attractive, he is still exceedingly more handsome than any other man she has ever met.
Daena nearly forgets about her breakfast as she takes in the sight of him, lounging in the shade in a plain laced shirt and black breeches. He was handsome in spite of his unseemly character.
The one good thing about marrying him would be the fact that he very well could be the most beautiful man she would ever see. Not many women are lucky enough to call their husbands beddable, and Daenora is glad to be one of them.
His eyes meet hers, and his lilac eyes bare into her blue ones. He smiles at her, and she feels her stomach flip.
She suppresses a bashful smile as she stands and hurries back into her bedroom upon being caught.
—
She swallows down the lump in her throat and looks out the window of her litter at her betrothed.
As she stares out of the window, she often finds her eye straying to Aerion ride alongside the wheelhouse, gallant as ever atop his red courser.
She opts to watch him rather than look at her rosey-cheeked companion, Gwenys Hawick, whom she wishes stayed in the riverlands for the rest of her days never to set foot before her.
The girl has always been acquiescent and conciliatory, so Daenora could never find a reason to send her away. She came to like the brunette in the first few months of their time together, when they were girls, but her resentment runs deeper than a girl simply being sweet and gentle.
She’s a pretty thing, with soft pink lips and curly light brown hair, and makes Daena feel a gnawing sense of envy claw at the back of her tongue.
But jealousy does not become a lady, and Daena is a Princess. It does a Princess no good to neglect her courtesies, so she grins and bears the presence of the young Gwenys.
As has before, he picks up on her watchful gaze and he returns it with a subtle smirk, and as she looks away diffidently, she is unable to stop the red blush from creeping up her neck and ears.
She makes sure Gwenys stays out of Aerion’s view. She doesn’t want to be compared to the fresh-faced girl.
Despite his awareness of her growing interest in him, he does not seek her out at the inns or the lord's manors where their host lodges. He does not speak to her, and rarely even looks at her for longer than a moment, so she is left alone with her maids to wonder if he really wants to marry her, or if he is simply toying with her.
At present, the royal entourage is stopped at some landed knight’s keep, and Daena is lodged in their second finest guest chambers— Aerion is in the largest, as any less than the very best is an insult, though he was at a tavern near to the keep for most of their stay, dishonoring her name as his wife-to-be.
She hears him when he returns late in the night, but he is not alone. She only wakes to the sound of a woman’s voice during what she assumes to be the hour of the wolf. An obscene string of gasps, occasionally broken by a giggle or whispering of flattery to the “dragon prince”.
How could a woman make such noises without being embarrassed?
She brushes away the thought. she will never understand the value of coin the way commonborn women do, and will never have to sacrifice her body for a copper star.
The depraved sounds echo through the quaint keep’s halls, and Daena gnaws on her lower lip, sitting up carefully so as to not rouse Gwenys. She stills when the brunette stirs, and then sits up against the headboard, drawing her knees into her chest.
“A lecher.” She whispers to herself despondently. “I’m going to marry a lecher.”
“Princess?” Gwenys murmurs tiredly, having been woken by her lady’s brooding.
“Go back to sleep, Gwen.” is all that the cream haired girl says in response as she lays back down.
The noises do not cease, and the woman’s voice becomes a fixture in the hallway for the night. Sighing and laughing, she seems to be enjoying herself and the attention she is receiving from the “dragon prince”, which she calls Aerion several times.
Daenora finds herself unable to stop listening, unsure of if he was doing this on purpose, to make her jealous or to drive her away. To seek the company of a whore while travelling side-by-side with one’s fiancée is deplorable, is it not? Especially to do so as nondiscreetly as he is.
Daena was already red-faced when most of her immediate family saw her newly engaged fiancé leaving the company of silver-haired prostitutes.
Wondering if she is so undesirable, she traces the embroidery on the canopy with her eyes until she falls asleep.
On the morrow, she avoids the prince like the plague while the company prepares to continue south.
note: if you couldn’t tell I really struggle with conveying emotion in my writing; if you guys have any tips or constructive (and kind) criticism feel free to tell me in my asks!
Obsession: A movie more aggravating than it is scary.
I had some thoughts to say about this film that I wanted to put somewhere just so that I didn't bury it and go on with my day thinking bad thoughts about things from my past.
So, a little context is very necessary. I've had a very checkered and dark past full of very bad things, things that relate to this movie on a fundamental level. Things revolving around psychotic manipulative women like the antagonist of Obsession.
I know this will immediately stir some pots because I have a hunch people took away the wrong message from the movie.
Not that they made it hard to do that, considering the amount of back pedaling that happens during the plot of the film.
So, here's some spoilers and a brief plot summary:
The story revolves around a man making a wish that a girl he likes, but doesn't know very well, would love him. The wish works, and the woman begins to show her real colors facilitated through the wish. At various points it tries to imply that this is not really her and that she's possessed by something. She's not. That's just her lying again, because that is her nature. Her true nature is the one you see in the film, the way she acts is not because of the wish, only facilitated by it. She still had to make the various decisions to do what she did, regardless of her motivations.
Spoilers & summary aside, that's pretty much what I wanted to get into. That this film keeps trying to make it seem like this isn't her doing these things. It tries to repeatedly forgive her, meanwhile the entire movie Baron is getting victim-blamed for what's happening to him, and falling deeper & deeper into an abusive relationship with a woman whose true self is a nightmarish demon.
It's relatable! Shockingly so! So much from the film reminded me of things that women have done to me. And so to see it try to take that theme and turn it on its head as though it was all some kind of petty joke that they weren't willing to follow through with kinda sucks.
I wish they would've stuck with the clear original idea and they wouldn't have tried to copout and make it seem like it isn't her the whole film when it obviously is.
So as much as I relate to the film and as impactful as it was, because of the copout, I have to say I don't like it very much. It kind of ruins it. I'd give it like a 3/10 just cause it gets a point for the music, the camera work, the editing, and the original idea. But it loses points on execution, diversion from the original idea, and the whole copout, as well as the piss-poor mixing that hollywood loves. Seriously, stop going from WHISPER QUIET to EARRAPINGLY loud. It loses a lot of points for that.
Besides that, very relatable film, I used to wish for love a lot cause I knew it would make me happy and all the times I thought I got what I wanted, what I actually got was a horrible abusive woman with no maturity or care for anyone else but themselves!
And as for my relationships with men, I wish them all the best, they were all great partners, it was just our time to end things.
And as for my current relationship, my current relationship is extremely happy and I'm glad I didn't give up on women. This movie sincerely would not have helped if I had watched it coming off of a bad relationship, I would've felt victim-blamed and honestly it would've sucked.
Don't watch this if you just got out of a bad relationship. And PSA; suicide is for cowards, if you think the only way out of a bad situation or relationship is suicide, you haven't considered all your options.
just watched a recent movie set in the 80s where the characters were like “can’t believe Star Wars is coming to an end. But hey nice to know they won’t stretch it out forever. What are they gonna do? Make movies set before the trilogy” girl SHUT UPPP
