Myrcella, wearing a butterfly mask, walked over from behind Lancelot. She saw Lancelot laughing and chatting with a woman wearing a raccoon mask, so she wanted to see what was going on.
However, as she approached, she heard Lancelot address the raccoon-masked lady as "Lady Sansa."
She instantly realized who it was.
"Brother Lancelot! Who is she?"
Myrcella asked, linking her arm through Lancelot's, seemingly failing to recognize that the person before her was Sansa Stark.
"It's Sansa! Though I didn't expect her to wear a raccoon mask instead of a wolf's head!"
"Lancelot, who is this?" Sansa Stark didn't seem to recognize Myrcella's voice either.
"My sister—or more accurately, my cousin—Princess Myrcella," Lancelot replied.
Although Myrcella often called him "brother," she really ought to call him "cousin."
"By the way, are you two hungry? Let's go get something to eat!" Lancelot suggested.
This ball was much like any normal ball, except that everyone was wearing a mask.
A long table to the side was laden with food and drink.
"Perfect, I am a bit hungry myself! Lancelot, let's go together!" Sansa Stark said.
The three of them walked over to the dining table.
Lancelot picked up a plate with one hand and piled on some bacon and eggs.
Sansa Stark, meanwhile, took small bites of a lemon cake with her fork.
Myrcella appeared to be drinking wine, but upon closer inspection, Lancelot realized it was actually sour plum juice.
"We can dance at this ball, too! Lancelot, why don't we share a dance later?" Sansa Stark invited him again.
"Certainly, Lady Sansa! It would be my honor," Lancelot replied.
"Lancelot, you can just call me by my name from now on! You don't need to be so formal!" she said.
"Alright! Sansa!"
"I want to dance with you later, too!" Myrcella tried to rest her chin on Lancelot's shoulder, but being too short to reach, she ended up pressing the top of her head against his chest instead.
"My dear cousin! Of course, that's no problem."
Many people at the ball began to dance. Not only were there men dancing with women, but also pairs of men and pairs of women.
Lancelot suddenly felt something was a bit off! Why were there same-sex couples?
In the center of the venue, a man wearing an elk mask was dancing with a man wearing a mask of many birds.
How should he put it? They looked... full of passion!
Lancelot turned his head away, choosing not to watch them.
Just then, the clack-clack-clack of high heels striking the floor rang out.
Lancelot saw a woman walk out wearing a rose-colored gown and a mask shaped like a swift. A single white rose was pinned to her chest.
Seeing her arrival, the dancers stopped and parted to make way for her, as if she were the star of the show.
"Welcome, everyone, to my masquerade. I am Lady Rose! As for my true identity, I apologize, but I cannot reveal it to you!"
So she was the so-called Lady Rose. She sounded very young, perhaps around fourteen or fifteen.
"My purpose in hosting this ball today is firstly to uphold tradition, and secondly, to seek excitement."
Lancelot suddenly felt that something seemed off. Why were there still two men and two women here?
In the center of the hall, a man wearing a moose mask was dancing with another man wearing a mask covered in birds.
How should he put it? They were absolutely overflowing with passion.
Lancelot turned his head away, no longer looking at them.
Just then, the sharp click-clack of high heels striking the floor echoed through the room.
Lancelot saw a woman step forward, dressed in a rose-colored gown and wearing a swift-shaped mask. A white rose was tucked into her bodice.
As soon as she appeared, everyone who had been dancing stopped and made way for her, clearing a path as if she were the star of the night.
"Welcome, everyone, to my masquerade ball. I am Miss Rose. As for my real identity, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you," she announced.
So she was the so-called Miss Rose. Judging by her voice, she sounded very young—probably around fourteen or fifteen.
"The purpose of hosting this ball tonight is, first, to carry on a tradition, and second, to seek a little excitement."
"Don't you think it's wonderful to make friends with complete strangers from scratch, without knowing who they really are?"
"That way, we can avoid judging others through a worldly lens or treating them with shallow attitudes."
"Come now! Let's make tonight sleepless and celebrate until dawn."
After finishing her speech, Miss Rose walked over to the person playing the harp.
"May I play a piece?" she asked.
"It would be my honor," the harpist replied, immediately stepping aside.
Miss Rose began to play a song called "The Dornishman's Wife," and the singer beside her instantly joined in.
The Dornishman's wife was as beautiful as the blazing sun,
His brothers knelt to pray for him,
But he laughed and sang aloud:
"Brothers, oh brothers, my end is nigh,
The Dornishman has taken my life,
But it matters not, for all men must die,
And I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!"
Everyone present started dancing while listening to the song.
Lancelot danced with Sansa for a while, and then with Myrcella.
But after Lancelot finished his dance with Myrcella, Sansa came back to invite him for another.
Lancelot felt that women seemed to have more stamina than men when it came to certain things. Like shopping, or dancing.
Lancelot was getting a bit tired, but Sansa Stark still seemed full of excitement, not tired at all.
Resigned, Lancelot had no choice but to go dance with her again.
While dancing during a partner swap, Lancelot suddenly heard someone whisper his name.
"Ser Lancelot!"
Lancelot immediately tripped over something and fell to the floor. He looked up to see several young ladies clutching their skirts and backing away from him.
"Lancelot, are you alright?" Sansa whispered, helping him up.
"I'm fine. At least I didn't get trampled by their high heels."
Then Lancelot looked at the person who had called his name.
"Who are you, brother?" Lancelot asked. "And how did you recognize me?"
A hint of a smile appeared on the lips of the man wearing a white owl mask.
"I recognized you by the cat mask on your head!"
"My mask? Did you perhaps cross swords with me in last year's tourney?" Lancelot asked.
"That's right. We fought in the final round. You won, and I lost, Lancelot."
Lancelot realized then who the man in the owl mask was.
Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers.
"How do you have the mind to attend this ball? Won't it distract you? Are you still participating in the tourney this time?" Lancelot asked.
"Of course! Why, do you not want to participate?" Loras asked.
Lancelot nodded.
"The reason I came to this ball is that the Rose Lady is my sister! When the ball is over, I'll introduce her to you!" Loras said.
"She's very beautiful, you know!"
The ball didn't end until dawn the next day.
That night, many young men and women, swept up in the excitement, ended up in bed together.
After returning, they would likely have to drink a few cups of Moon Tea.
After all, getting pregnant out of wedlock is a taboo everywhere.
Lancelot and the two girls had now taken off their masks and were waiting for Ser Loras.
Ser Loras walked out of the castle leading his sister.
"Sister, let me introduce Ser Lancelot to you!"
"Lancelot, this is my sister, Margaery Tyrell!"
Looking at Margaery—who had eyes sparkling with wisdom, a sweet smile on her face, a tall figure, and an elegant demeanor—Lancelot bowed like a gentleman.