Chapter Eight: Rhaenyra II
Today was the dance. And the dance was what Rhaenyra was dreading the most.
The first day of wedding celebrations was modest, with Rhaenyra's father and Laena Velaryon swearing their vows in Maegelle's Sept in the morning, followed by a royal dinner in the Red Keep. The second through fifth days were exclusively dedicated to tourneys, with jousting, archery, and the melee. Rhaenyra had enjoyed those four days. She cheered on hedge knights, minor and major lords, and Kingsguard members as they jousted on horseback, or brawled in the melee pits, while the lords watching placed bets on their favourites.
Larys Strong, the Clubfoot, placed a bet on a hedge knight called Ser Perkin the Flea to win the joust, while Ser Tyland Lannister put his money on the white Kingsguard knight Ser Criston Cole. Tyland Lannister ended the day one hundred golden dragons richer, as Ser Criston swept the lists, defeating Ser Erryk Cargyll of the Kingsguard, Elmo Tully, Ser Vaemond Velaryon, a Tyrell squire, and three hedge knights on his way to victory. Alicent cheered on her two brothers, Gwayne and Thoren. Thoren did well despite his young age, jousting bravely before being eliminated by Bartimos Celtigar, while Gwayne turned up drunk and fell off his horse. The archery was won by Ser Alan Tarly, while Ser Criston dominated the melee as well, beating Ser Harwin Strong, the Lord Commander of the City Watch, in a mud-soaked showdown.
All in all, the first five days had gone better than Rhaenyra expected, but the sixth day there would be a massive dance in the throne room, where she would be forced to dance and talk with all the men from around the kingdom who wished to win her affection. Alicent had convinced Rhaenyra to attend the wedding and do her basic courtesies, but Rhaenyra knew that she would be expected to partake in dances with all the people that wanted to take her for a wife. In truth, she had no choice. If she didn't turn up, Alicent was correct in saying it would bring a great shame upon House Targaryen. The saving grace in Rhaenyra attending was when she told her father that she would, it brought a smile upon his face.
He has rarely smiled over the past year, ever since Mother died.
Breakfast was small for Rhaenyra, and she ate it privately in her chambers. She was presented with a selection of pastries and cakes, as well freshly sliced apples, oranges, and figs, which she scarcely touched. She only ate one lemon cake, which she washed down with a glass of iced honey milk. During the afternoon, she snacked on cherries and pine nuts, as her father had advised her not to eat much as there would be a large feast after the dance, the biggest feast yet. But supposedly not as big as the next three days, where each forthcoming day would see a feast bigger than the previous, culminating in one gigantic ballroom dance, and an even more grand feast, with over a hundred dishes to be served in that one.
For the dance, she wore a red silken dress that bared her arms and shoulders. A proper woman's dress. She wore a golden belt around her waist that was shaped like a dragon, and golden earrings studded with rubies. She wore her long silver-and-gold hair loose, and though the dressing maids had suggested she wear a golden necklace to compliment her outfit, she instead chose to wear the Valyrian Steel necklace that her uncle Daemon gifted to her.
Oh, I do wish my uncle was here with me at the wedding. He would make the dance so much more enjoyable.
The throne room was covered with chairs and tables, all decorated in Targaryen black and red, and Velaryon aquamarine and silver, and there was a large space in the centre of the room where everyone would dance. Below the gangling monstrosity of the Iron Throne was the royal dais, which was raised slightly higher than all the rest of the tables, and hanging from the ceiling were two large banners, one showing the three headed dragon of House Targaryen, and the other showing the seahorse of House Velaryon.
Ser Criston Cole, Rhaenyra's sworn protector, escorted her to the royal dais, where she would take her place alongside her father; along with Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King; and Queen Laena Velaryon and her family.
"Would you dance with me, later tonight if I asked you, Ser Criston?" Rhaenyra asked to her white knight, suggestively.
"No... princess... as much as I... my duties do not allow it..." he responded, his cheeks turning redder than Rhaenyra's dress.
"T'was only a jape, Ser Criston," she laughed.
"Ah… I understand, Princess."
She took her place alongside her father, who sat directly beneath the Iron Throne. Next to Rhaenyra was Otto Hightower, while on the other side of her father was his new wife, then Lord Corlys, the Princess Rhaenys, and their son Ser Laenor sat at the end of the table. Rhaenyra's father had chosen to wear the same piece of clothing he had done when he swore his vows in the sept five days ago, while Laena's wore a stunning satin dress, in the colors of black and aquamarine, representing the Houses Targaryen and Velaryon. Her dress was decorated with black diamonds all along its bodice, and she wore three necklaces, all shining silver, which was set with even more black diamonds.
Usually, the bride would wear only the colors of her husband's house following the swearing of vows.
Laena's father, Lord Corlys, seemed to add more gold onto his clothing each time Rhaenyra saw him. His dark blue doublet was embroidered with a cloth-of-gold Velaryon seahorse, and on his neck hung five golden neckchains, and he had another two golden chains that held his cloth-of-gold cloak in place. Nine of his fingers also had a golden ring each, and each ring had a different colored gemstone set into it.
It seems as though it is like Corlys' own wedding. Gods, how much gold does that man possess?
The feast was a modest one, with only one round of dinner being served. In that dinner, there was a roast boar served on a golden plate; bowls of venison stew; pigeon pie with lemon cream; spicy Dornish red pepper soups; sides of mashed and boiled and buttered neeps; eight different types of bread; large platters of fruits, salads, nuts; and a selection of fruit cakes, honeycombs, and cold cuts of meat. Rhaenyra's appetite was still small, so she only tried a small cut of the boar, two and a half fruit cakes, and a small slice of pigeon pie. Her father did not each much too, instead choosing to indulge himself in the wide collection of wines. Cups of Arbor gold, Dornish red, honeyed wine, and spiced wine filled King Viserys' stomach, and when it was time for the dance, he was slurring his words.
"And now... the dance!" announced the Royal Steward.
The first dance was to be between the newlyweds. As Rhaenyra's father stumbled to the dance floor, Otto Hightower leaned back in his seat, while the Princess Rhaenys grimaced, before quickly smiling in approval. Laena had practiced well for the dance, moving as gracefully as her mother's dragon Meleys did, while the King bounced around uncomfortably, twisting around trying to keep up with the young Laena. Their dance was akin to the mating ritual of dragons, both the couple's stretching their arms wide as the musicians played triumphant music. Thankfully, the dance went well, as the crowd gave a loud applause once the music finished (more towards Laena than her father, Rhaenyra wagered), before the King went back and slumped down in his seat and took to his cups again.
The musicians began playing a slower song as all the guests from noble houses all across the realm got up and danced beneath the black shadow of the Iron Throne. Reluctantly, Rhaenyra stood up and headed to the main floor, and danced too.
I guess we all must dance.
The first to dance with Rhaenyra was Thoren Hightower, Alicent's brother. Thoren was gentle and chivalrous, and danced well. He asked questions about Rhaenyra, made small japes that Rhaenyra could not help but laugh at. He would make a good husband, in truth, if he was actually interested in me. Rhaenyra could not help but notice that though Thoren was courteous and friendly, his eyes were more focused on Ser Laenor Velaryon. Then after Thoren, was Borros Baratheon, son of Boremund Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End.
Borros was a tall man, with coal black hair and bright blue eyes. He was handsome, but Rhaenyra's attraction for him died once he opened his mouth. The man talked about himself on end, about how skilled of a knight he was (though he did just lose in the first round of the tourney jousts to a hedge knight the previous day), about how he would lead the army when the Seven Kingdoms were to conquer Dorne, and about how many women he fucked during his youth. While he droned about something to do with some Vulture King along some bone way, Rhaenyra nodded and smiled, but her mind was on Daemon, or Ser Criston, or just about any other man in the room. She looked around the throne room, to see Queen Laena dancing with Lord Caswell, Alicent dancing with Ser Tyland Lannister, Princess Rhaenys dancing with her good-brother Ser Vaemond, and Lord Corlys with the young Lady Johanna Westerling. Rhaenyra did not even realise that Borros had finished bragging about his many talents until he scoffed and stormed off back to his seat.
Next to dance with her was Otto Hightower, then Forrest Frey, some Braavosi man, then Gwayne Hightower, who was almost as drunk as her father was. After them came Lord Jason Lannister, with his long, flowing blonde hair, and piercing green eyes. He was of an average build, but still handsome, nonetheless.
"Princess, a dance?" he asked, gently, offering his right hand which was decorated with gold rings on three of his fingers.
"Absolutely, Lord Jason," she smiled.
Jason Lannister, despite wearing a long cloth-of-gold cloak and a large gold neckchain, which shined against his crimson doublet that was decorated with small cloth-of-gold lions all across it, danced well.
"Have you ever visited Casterly Rock, Princess?" he asked, proudly. "It is even taller than the Wall, or the Hightower of Oldtown, and the castle is said to have been built into a mountain full of gold. It may not have a Dragonpit, but assured, I certainly have the means to build one."
"And why would it need a Dragonpit?"
"Well, it would need somewhere to house your dragon, if you were to take me as your Lord Husband," he smirked.
Of course.
"Tell me again, Lord Jason, how many dragons does House Lannister possess at this moment?" Rhaenyra scoffed.
Jason frowned. "None, admittedly. But House Lannister does possess many golden dragons, more than anyone in the realm."
"And thank you for the dance, Lord Jason." Rhaenyra said, smiling, before finding someone else to dance with.
Does Jason Lannister not know he is talking to a Targaryen?
Though Jason Lannister was a proud man, who loved himself more than any anything else, he was still preferable to Borros, who was now sitting back at his table, glaring at Rhaenyra and whoever she danced with with his angry blue eyes.
Next after Jason Lannister was Adrian Tarbeck, then Willem Blackwood who spluttered on his words when he tried talking to Rhaenyra, then Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, then a ebony skinned Summer Islander, then Ser Harwin Strong. Ser Harwin had long brown hair and a short beard, and he was so tall and muscular Rhaenyra reckoned he could lift her up with just one arm.
He certainly does look like the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Princess." Ser Harwin said, gently.
Rhaenyra looked him up and down eagerly but couldn't help but away shyly when her eyes locked with his.
"They call you Breakbones, don't they, Ser Harwin?" she asked, nervously.
"Yes, they do, Princess. Though I am not sure why," he laughed, warmly. "However, I do know why they call you the Realm's Delight."
Rhaenyra giggled, and butterflies in her stomach. She couldn't come up with a response to Ser Harwin. So instead, they danced. Though Ser Harwin was twice Rhaenyra's size, his dancing was graceful, and his large hands were gentle as he held her. They danced for a while, longer than Rhaenyra had danced with any other man, but their dance eventually came to an end. After Ser Harwin, she danced with Tommen Lannister, Ser Jason's younger brother; then Lord Bar Emmon; and then another dance with Otto Hightower; and after him Amos Bracken; and her last dance of the night was with Lord Corlys Velaryon.
Once the night was over, Rhaenyra's legs ached from dancing, and her cheeks ached from fake smiling at all the lords. In her bedchambers, Rhaenyra thought about the royal ball, and all the many people she danced with. She wondered if her future husband was one of the men she danced with. She wondered if it would be Thoren Hightower, the young knight who seemed more interested in the other men Rhaenyra danced with; or Borros Baratheon, that blustering oaf; or even Jason Lannister, the Proud Lion. Or maybe it would be Ser Harwin Breakbones, with his wide shoulders and kind, brown eyes. Maybe it would be none of the men that she danced with. Maybe it would be her uncle, Daemon the Rogue Prince, who was in Essos with some sellsword company fighting in some proxy war for the Pentoshi against Braavos. Maybe she would never marry at all.
Whatever would happen, Rhaenyra did not know, and that scared her.
