As the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms, with the current king growing quite old, Rhaecerys Targaryen had never had any illusions about how big an affair each of his Nameday celebrations would be, but being in the midst of it was quite a different ordeal. Rhaecerys had never had any problems with large, grand occasions, but even he had his limits. Archery competitions, a series of fencing competitions, jousting, a melee. And these had been followed by dancing and a feast in the evening every day, all of which he had been required to be both present at and an active participant of. The dancing was by far the worst. For most events, he could get away with accepting well-wishes and presiding over the activity, even for the feasts, most of the talking was done at the beginning, but being required to dance almost every dance and greet what felt like an endless stream of older nobles when he was not dancing was a nasty combination that had left him falling into bed exhausted every night.
He bowed to the young woman in front of him with a pleasant smile, standing up straight again with her hand in the crook of his elbow to take her onto the floor. He was trying not to show her that he was distracted, but his eyes glanced around the Great Hall, and that was when he saw her. A tall, slender young woman was standing by a pillar under one of the dragon skulls on the wall not far from the two of them. The area around her was mostly clear of people, which would have been a surprise to him in the crush of the party, if he hadn’t seen the knife she was cleaning her fingernails with. That in and of itself was a shock, as everyone in the castle had been anxiously preparing in case of an assassination attempt, and it was unusual for them to have allowed someone to bring a weapon inside the hall, much less a woman, but that wasn’t the only shocking thing about her. This was not one of those moments where he was not quite certain what had caught his eye.
The woman was wearing the weirdest gown he had ever seen. The material appeared to be a light, loose single layer of silk in a shimmering silver color. It tucked in around the waist and then flared out into a skirt that only reached to her knees, made of enough material that it fell in folds. Covering her legs were a pair of fitting black trousers, and brown leather boots that were the only things with any embroidery, floral patterns done in gold thread. A cloak of sheer black lace covered one shoulder, pinned to the other with a brooch fashioned in the shape of a rose, made of a blackened metal and inset with purple gems. Her black hair had been braided several times over with silk ribbons of muted colors and assembled into a massive bun at the back of her head, and from a belt around her waist fell a long sword.
There was something magnetic about the strangeness of it all, that sense of casual danger she exuded even from that distance, and he found himself unable to look away. As if noticing his stare, she stopped her fingers and looked up, and that was when their eyes met. He realized then that her clothes had been chosen specifically to complement those eyes. The outer ring of her eyes were steel grey, but changed to a stark violet color as they reached her irises. It was as if a harsh purple flower was blooming in her eyes. Her gaze was evaluating and bold, unafraid to openly meet his scrutiny, but passed quickly, as she dismissively turned back to the task of cleaning her nails.
When she looked away, he realized he’d been holding his breath and had been frozen in place, as if she’d forced time to stop simply by looking at him. He breathed softly, “Who is that?”
The woman on his arm clearly hadn’t missed his momentary misstep. She leaned over him and looked at the woman he’d been staring at. He shook his head, feeling ashamed for having neglected his companion. She was pretty enough herself, and quite pleasant among the women he’d been forced to dance with. She had golden hair and a calmly shrewd look in her pale grey eyes, one of the many daughters of House Whent, he recalled, and thankfully the only one who had asked for a dance.
“That’s my cousin, Silya Velaryon.” She said, immediately catching his attention. “I’m surprised they convinced her to come. She is not fond of grand occasions.” She covered her mouth to laugh softly to herself, “That get up is quite the compromise, no doubt a creation all of her sisters had some hand in.”
She let go of his arm, and he blinked at her in surprise. The expression on the Whent girl’s face was knowing. “Go on, then. Ask her for a dance, your highness, though I would not expect much luck. She has quite the array of suitors chasing her beauty and I believe is quite sick of them by now.” Laughing, she curtsied and walked away to find another dance partner.
Silya pointedly refused to look up at the first sign of movement. When she finally did, the expression in her eyes was cold. Who was it now? Her eyebrows flashed upwards for just a second, when she recognized who it was. “Your highness.” She said, politely but not warmly.
She could have sworn she had caught him just moments ago leading her cousin Maeghaera Whent to the dance floor. Up close, he was more fetching than she’d given him credit for. He was tall and well-built, with large, rough hands and amethyst-colored eyes. His long, silver hair had been neatly braided back, and the beard on his face had been nicely trimmed and cared for. His hair looked light and soft, perfect for running one’s hands through. He seemed almost hesitant to speak, as if he still hadn’t quite figured out why he had come up to her.
Her eyes wandered to the side to give one of her sisters a “would you believe this guy?” look, but they were all distracted by others. That was why she’d ended up alone by this pillar, after all. So she closed her eyes for a long moment to stop a sigh from slipping from her lips, and met his gaze. “Do you need something from me, my lord?” She asked.
He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from hers. “Yes, I- would you do me the honor of accompanying me for this next dance?” He asked, finally.
There was another surprise. She bounced the knife in her hand, flipping it over and catching it by the hilt time after time. Most men had left her alone as long as she kept playing with the knife. She knew she’d inherited her father’s best threatening demeanor without even trying, so the knife was all she needed. For a moment, Silya didn’t know what to say, but she concluded that it would be quite rude to deny a request from the man who would one day be her king. “Of course.” She answered, putting her hand in his outstretched one.
He smiled at her, then, with the gentlest expression, leaning his head closer to hers, and for a moment she realized that he’d managed to capture her, stealing her breath away as his face came almost close enough to kiss. Then, she took a quick breath, pulling her head back and returning to a safe distance. All the same, as she allowed him to lead her into the next dance, she sensed that despite his gentle and proper demeanor, in a way he might be the most dangerous of the lot.