"Aliane, those linens were meant to be returned to the Swaith household earlier this hour were they not?"

The young girl cowed under Isobel's stare. Though Isobel's voice was soft, Aliane had worked long enough under Isobel's service to know her tone meant that she was in no position to weasel her way out of her duties, nor was she able to make excuses for herself. There was no point for Lady Isobel— "just, Isobel" as she firmly declared all those many moons ago, is too kind to lie to. Not like her lords and ladies before. Besides, she would surely catch her in her lie, she always does.

"Yes Isobel, they were." She mumbled, eyes slanted down and wringing her hands through the aforementioned sheets and deeper into the cleaning tub.

Isobel raised a perfectly plucked brow, her arms crossed against her chest. Isobel was quite fond of Aliane, handpicking her from the orphanage herself after being tossed there from her previous household. However, she mused, fondness did not run a business, nor did it furnish the bedrooms of her clients and their households. Though she did wonder the reason for the delay. Miss Aliane was handpicked for a reason. She was quick, efficient, and knew the work like she was born to do it. Though the lowborn were all born to do it she supposed.

"Is there a reason for the delay? The arrival of great households did not distract you, I hope. You did promise me you would take care of another load in Rhosin's place." Isobel crossed the cleaning room all the while folding up her sleeves and tying her unadorned and unbraided hair into a neat bun. Rhosin, her senior laundry lady had fallen pregnant once more and just had her fourth child. With three younger children not more than five years older, Isobel had temporarily dismissed Rhosin on a paid leave. There were things more important than the sheets of lords and ladies. Although Isobel has yet to know these things herself. Sitting next to her charge she grabbed the damp bedsheets and pinned them quickly onto the drying line, one, two, three. Like clockwork the two worked in tandem as Aliane explained quickly, her voice an octave higher than usual.

"But did you see them Isobel? The houses of red, yellow and orange? A prince rides with them, that's what Lady Mery said. Can you imagine that, Isobel? A prince!" Her smile bright and her eyes brighter. Isobel sighed and smiled softly, for Aliane was a child of nine. Too young to understand the ways of the world. Young enough to dream of fair princes turned kings and knights of honour. Pushing the line out, looking to the streets of children like her Aliane below she wonders when she will forget these romantic dreams though desperately hoping she does not.

Though Isobel knew the prince was not of honour. Yes, an exotic prince, he was. She was referring to Prince Oberyn of course. A prince of faraway lands and beautiful palaces. Spices as hot as the deserts he hails from. Was Aliane old enough to hear of the Red Viper? No, she quickly decided. Aliane's princes were all fair and kind and not the proud father of eight bastards.

"Do we not have a prince and a king here, Aliane?" While Isobel knew Aliane was a child of romantic notions and wonder, she knew King Joffrey would hear these words as treason. For a child should not dream of any more princes and kings beyond those of King's Landing. Isobel had seen people become killed for words just the same and even less. She witnessed the King's shrieks of "Kill them ALL!" firsthand, after a voice had deemed him a bastard in these very streets the children below played cat and mouse in. As dreams came easy to sweet Aliane, cruelty came quicker to King Joffrey. Aliane may die of childbirth, or sickness, or old age, the hand of the King would not do. Isobel would make sure of it.

"Yes, but this one is so different! I haven't seen him, but I peeked at the other lords and, oh Isobel! They look just like you! Such dark colouring! Maybe one of the lords is your father!" Isobel only flinched slightly, though continued to pin the cloths. Yes, she admitted, they do look quite like me. Isobel witnessed their entering herself. It was foolish of her to waste precious time scrutinizing Dornishmen, but her mother once told her she had a Dornish father. It was only slightly confirmed today as she watched the men from afar. Dark hair and darker eyes. Forever sun kissed skin despite the layers of fine cloth to protect them from the heat. Isobel saw no women, but she knew she would match them as well. Her looks were not from her mother and her ivory skin and hair of golden light. She had her brown eyes and stubborn streak and not much else. What she received from her father, she would never truly know. Her questions would remain unanswered though, as they have been for years and years. There was no father to answer any and no mother to confirm them regardless. Besides, a woman of twenty-two had no business to dream of fathers from far away lands, let alone princes. She had neither the time or patience. But she did have laundry. Lots of it.

"Maybe he is. Maybe he is not. Regardless, you must keep your foolishness silent if you would like to keep it. We needn't marvel at the royals beyond our King and you must ensure your words reflect that. Gods forbid we end up like the Starks, or Old Heren."

Remembering the old man who had once sung every morning to her and the rest of the orphan children run down like a dog by a knight of the Kingsguard, Aliane stopped smiling.

"I will keep it silent then, Isobel." she mumbled, standing up to fold the dry linens which came in through the bottom line. Though she continued to think of the strange lords and their brightly coloured dress and chests of gold.

Isobel's smile turned into a slight frown. "For your safety and mine, you must." As Aliane folded the last on the brightly coloured linens, she placed them into the appropriate basket as Isobel placed the soaps back into their place and called for another team of maids to replace the water. Shaking her hair free of the now out of place bun and of dreams of fathers and thoughts of princes, she turned to Aliane, basket in hand.

"Be sure you run by the Swaith household after dropping those linens off and apologize. Inform them their linens will be a few hours late due to the rush brought on by the King's wedding. Be sure to ask if they need help in their household in the meantime. I am certain Lady Swaith will ask you to oversee Lady Mer's dress fitting. You know colours best, you know." Isobel smiled again, as she was always quick to do so.

This earned a beam from Aliane. Lady Swaith was a kind woman though her Lord was not. Her daughter, around Aliane's age, had taken to showing off her dresses to Aliane and letting her try them on. This was all done is secret, Aliane assured, for as fair as the Lady was, she would not approve of an orphan bastard trying on the clothes of a little Lady. And if the kind Lady would not, Isobel was loathe to find out how the Lord would react. No one approves of an orphan bastard doing much, Isobel thought, her small smile quickly turning bitter. Though they can accomplish much regardless, she thought, looking upon her modest establishment, handing them to Aliane.

Double checking the linens, she froze at the familiar tag on the basket. Grabbing them firmly but gently out of the little one's hands she moves past Aliane and says, "Better not bring them over. You will be delayed as this household has too many beds to attend to. Head to Lord Swaith's straight away, go on now." Before Isobel could blink or even think of changing her mind, Aliane bends down in a quick curtsey and runs out the laundry house. Clucking softly, Isobel leaves right after. Let her be a child, she thinks. Weddings and gowns and wedding gowns will not come quickly nor kindly, if at all to sweet Aliane.

Looking to the tag on the heavy basket again, she let out a sigh and read aloud.

"Littlefinger's brothel."

Please let me know what you think! I'm very new to creative writing and any feedback is welcomed :)