Chapter 4: High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Ned was storming through the camps outside Harrhenal in searching for Robert, but still couldn't find him, until he heard, laughs and roars from a tent.
When he got there, he saw Robert deep in an arm-wrestling contest with some knight, and a whore next to him.
Without thinking, Ned rushed straight towards him and throwing the most powerful punch that he could give straight to Robert's cheek, knocking him to the ground. The hand now was hurting like hell, and despite the punch, Robert got up immediately, roar, "Seven Hells! What got into you!"
"You tried to rape my sister!" shouted Ned, trying to approach Robert again, but was pushed away by his men.
"What in the Seven Hells are you talking about!" roared Robert, stopping a few inches from him.
"My sister was in tears after you left her chambers, and then informed me that you tried to force yourself on her," Ned replied, trying to keep his anger at bay.
"What is going here?!" Came the voice of his elder, who pushed the soldiers away. "Take your hands down from my brother or I will cut them off."
The men moved away, as Robert stepped forward. "I did nothing wrong. I only wanted to give a kiss on her cheek, but she burst into anger. But even if I tried to kiss her on the lips what does it matter? In a moon from now, we will be husband and wife."
"No! You will not marry my sister, Robert!" shouted Ned, as Brandon was pushing him away. "Not until I'm alive."
Once they were back in the courtyard, "What in the bloody hell happened there, Ned?"
"I need to speak with father," Ned replied, trying to move away, but Brandon stopped him, grabbing his arm, "Not before you tell me why you hit a high-born lord."
"I will tell you. But first I need to speak with father," Ned said, shrugging his hand. "Where is he?"
"In the stark camp, with the lords," replied Brandon and Ned nodded, heading there.
"I'm sorry Elia for, making you wait, but I got lost in this hallway," said Ashara, entering in the chambers that she shared with the princess of Dorne.
"It's the only reason, my dear friend?" asked the princess with a cocky smile, and Ashara blushed, looking down.
"I can hide nothing from you, my princess. You know me so well."
"Then come and sit, tell me everything," said the young Princess, eagerly and patting the spot next to here, however Ashara shook her head, and holding the scroll, "prince Oberyn give me this. It comes from Prince Doran."
And her friend rolled her eyes at hearing that, but nevertheless, she took the scroll, unfolding it, and reading quickly.
"Judging by your expression, they aren't good news."
"No," replied the princess, folding it back, getting up, and throwing it into the fireplace. Filling two goblets of wine, she continued. "As expected, Doran wants me to seduce the crown prince. He says that if the charming doesn't work, I need to take him to bed or at least find myself naked in his bed."
"And do you want to do that?"
"Of course, I don't. I don't want to join the royal family and suffer the king madness," replied her friend quite angrily. But then, sighing, she said calmly, "I will try to start some conversation with him. Though I doubt I will find any good ground."
"Maybe I can help you in that," said Ashara, remembering that Eddard Stark fought with the prince on the Stepstones. He for sure must know more things that may help her to win the prince's heart.
"What do you mean?"
"I meet someone who fought with the prince on the Stepstones."
"Who?"
"Eddard Stark," Ashara replied, eager to share with her friend her feeling about this quiet and handsome Northern wolf.
"Father. We need to talk," said Ned bursting in the tent, interrupting the conversation that he had with Lord Arryn.
The lord of the Eyrie left the tent, after patting Ned's shoulder and he hears his father say, "if you are here to speak about what happened between your sister and lord Baratheon, you are wasting your time."
"Father. You can't agree with this marriage after what he tried to do."
"He assured me that he only wanted to kiss her cheek and your sister burst in anger."
"Tell me, Father, that you don't believe him more than you believe your daughter," Ned said in disbelief.
Sighing, his father, "All right, Ned. If you tell me right now, swearing on the Old Gods, that Robert Baratheon is capable of raping a young girl, I will break the betrothal. Tell me that he has done this before, and I will do it without hesitation."
But Ned didn't reply, not knowing what to say. Should he lie and stain his friend's reputation, or should he say nothing?
"I know that seeing your sister in tears made you reach that conclusion, but you don't know her. You don't know how fiercely she fought Brandon on this matter when he told her that she was going to marry in a moon from now."
"But still, I don't think she would lie about it, father," he said, in a low voice.
His father, on the other hand, placing the hand on his shoulder, said, "Lyanna is full of surprises. Don't worry about her. She will hear reasons after the end of this damn tourney."
"You still hate the southern tourneys?" asked Ned, sitting on one of the chairs.
"It's not about the tourney, but about who made it. The Mad King," his father said, muttering the last part, and Ned wondered why was the reason for this, but their brother, bringing some wine, interrupted them.
"How is the hand, little brother?" Brandon asked, laughing and giving him a cup of wine.
"Still bloody hurt," Ned replied, opening and closing his first before taking a sip.
"There is a great multitude of young virgins down here, eh, little brother," his brother said, laughing and taking another long sip of wine, and making their father chuckle too, who added, "Like the bees to the honey, this southern are. All running after a title."
"Who did you choose for me?" asked Ned against the goblet, with the only woman appearing in his mind right now was the girl with haunting violet eyes of House Dayne.
"No one. Yet. But I'm pondering between a Royce or someone from the reach," his father replied, but Ned just stayed in silence. He knows what the future holds for him. A marriage for duty not for love.
Outside was already night, and in less than an hour the feast should begin, but Lyanna was still shaken by what had happened with Robert a few moments before. And now she was wandering like a ghost without a purpose, through the hallways of this cursed place.
Ned promised her that he will speak with their father about the betrothal and make him change his mind. She really hoped that he will succeed, otherwise, if he fails, she swears it by the old gods, that she will jump from the tallest tower of Harrhenal. Better death than a life stuck next to a monster like him.
Suddenly, as she was bumped against someone, and almost fell to the floor, but two strong hands caught her before that happens. Looking up, she realizes it was the young prince, and she immediately blushed.
"Lady Lyanna," he greeted her with a beautiful smile, which left her without breath and lost for a brief second as she was looking him in those deep purple eyes. "The feast is about to start, but I see that you are not ready, yet. Is everything all right?"
"Yes," she replied immediately, lying of course, and looking down.
"May I escort you to your rooms? This place is a real maze, and it's easy to get lost," said the prince, offering his elbow, and she a bit too eagerly took his offer with a smile.
They started to walk in silence for a while, with the only thing to break it from time to time, where the laughter of the soldiers in the courtyard, and the noise of the wind passing through the cracks.
For a moment, Lyanna tried to steal a glimpse of the young prince shapes, who was accompanying her with his royal bearing, and she felt her heart melt. A strange feeling in her belly appears, and it was like a butterfly were flying. Certainly, Prince Rhaegar was a little older than the young Dragon, but in addition to that she was sure that he was even more charming. His long hairs were now braided in one long tail, giving him the warrior look that the Young Dragon usually had. The only thing that was missing right now was the crown of the conqueror on his head.
When he caught her looking at him, Lyanna immediately turned away to look forward, blushing, embarrassed because of what she was doing.
"Don't worry, little wolf. I won't cut your head for looking at me," he said jokingly, and that made her chuckle too, bringing the hand immediately to the mouth to silence. "Don't do it, my lady. Never hid your laughs to the world because it's a beautiful song to my ears."
"You flatter me, your grace," she said, and she didn't know how to make the blush disappear, that continued to expand also because of him calling her 'little wolf.' That was a very intimate expression, that would have made her mad if someone like Robert would have said. But strangely when the prince said it it wasn't. On the contrary. It made her happy.
"It's the truth. But I also want to ask, why you were wandering all alone through the hallways," he said, and that made her stop immediately because brought back Robert's assault, that was forgotten for a glimpse moment. "My Lady?"
Releasing a long and sad sigh, intertwined her finger, she replied, in a low, "Something bad happened a few moments ago, that shakes me a lot-" she stopped, not knowing how to continue, but feel the prince take her hand, and raising her chin, who finished, "It was Robert, wasn't he? He was a bit too rough with you."
"H-how did you understand."
"Well, as I was walking through the hallways of Harrhenal, wondering just like you, I saw from far away a little bit of commotion in the camp of the Stormlands. It was your brother that hit Robert. And before that I saw a scratch on his face, so seeing you in a bad mood, I put everything together."
"Well, you are a very good observer, my prince," she replied, smiling, before looking down, and after swallowing, she added, "He tried to force himself on me, saying that if we do now or in a month, it doesn't matter. I think that you can imagine my response."
Leaning towards her, the young Prince whispered, "Yes I can. And I'm pretty sure that my cousin won't be able to use his favorite toy for tonight." And that made her giggle, despite knowing perfectly that she shouldn't laugh because of that. "Now we better hurry up, otherwise we will be late for the feast and the guests will believe that we have been kidnapped by the ghosts of Harrhenal." She smiled and they resumed walking.
When they reached her chambers, Lyanna something to her mind comes at that moment and she wanted to ask the prince that but was too embarrassed to do it.
"Well, my lady, I think our way parts her, but despite what happened, I hope that I will see you at the feast." And she nodded smiling, as he kisses her hand.
As he was ready to leave, Lyanna stopped taking his hand and she saw that he was taken aback, "I'm sorry. But was wondering If I could ask you a favor."
"Of course, you can."
"I was wondering if you would like to wear my favor tomorrow. For the joust I mean," she said, immediately looking down embarrassed. Why she even asked? Such a stupid thing. She was such a stupid girl. It wasn't the lady that offers the favor, but the knight. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm sorry, my prince. That was too forward of me."
"No, my lady. I would be very honoured to wear it," he replied, smiling, and she immediately went inside, before returning with a cloth lace with winter roses embroidered on it.
The prince smiled, accepting it happily, apparently, and saying, "Winter Roses? I guess they are your favorite flowers, are they?" and she nodded smiling. "Thank you, my lady."
After giving her one last kiss on the hand, he walked away.
Lyanna immediately entered in her chamber, closing the door behind her. And smiling, she closed her eyes. If this moment was a dream, she did not want to wake up, because it was perfect. They were so different Robert and the prince. One was coarse, cheeky, and sure of his charm; while the other was kind and gentle, not even trying to use his charm, making every girl fall for him. If someone was to ask her with whom she would want to spend all her life, Lyanna would immediately choose Rhaegar. And that wasn't because he was a prince.
"Are you dreaming about your young dragon, again?" asked a woman's voice, and opening her eyes, Lyanna saw Dacey Mormont, in a dress sitting on her bed.
"What are you doing here, Dacey?" asked Lyanna approaching.
"Eddard asked to be your shadow. And I'm here to help you dress."
"I can dress myself," Lyanna replied, moving toward her wardrobe and choosing a blue and grey dress to wear, with the direwolf of house stark embodied on it and winter Roses on the side.
"Who do you intend to charm my lady? Your future husband or a certain handsome prince?"
"No one of your business," replied Lyanna, sitting at the mirror to start with her hairs.
High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found
And the ones who had loved her the most
While he was singing, the prince's fingers slithered by the harp's strings, producing a beautiful but gloomy melody. The Lords and Ladies who were present, fell silent while listening to his harp's lament. Some women sighed and some men thought it was a dull affair. Lyanna noticed the intense and torturous expression on his face, and the melancholy of his song, made her remember the story of the young Dragon Prince who was born in grief, marked by the tragedy of Summerhall
The ones who'd been gone for so very long
She couldn't remember their names
They spun her around on the damp old stones
Spun away all her sorrow and pain
And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
And she the same goes for Lyanna. She doesn't want to leave this hall. She would prefer to spend all her life in this cursed place and listening to this tearful song of the honourable Dragon Prince, rather than an entire life with a whoring stag.
And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
They danced through the day
And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall
From winter to summer then winter again
'Til the walls did crumble and fall
All the Ladies that were present at the feast were in tears at hearing her son singing this song that he had made himself in his youth when he visited Summerhall, and she herself was in tears at hearing this, because it brought back to memory that hateful night when she lost many of her relatives, and at the same time rage against the Maesters who did that.
And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave
As her son keeps singing, with the King getting bored by every word that was singed, Rhaella watched the Stark Table, or to be more precise Lyanna stark, who had her gaze fixed on Rhaegar and with the tears in her eyes, as the youngest of the Starks was glancing at her and silently laughing.
This little distraction of hers gives Rhaella the possibility to take a better look at the Northern Lady who seems to have won her son's heart. She was a very beautiful girl, not as beautiful as the Lioness of Casterly Rock, but beautiful enough to win a prince. And just as Rhaegar said, one could see the wildness hidden behind the beauty, and just like Visenya Targaryen, a warrior Queen, ready to challenge and defy whatever decision from the King she may not like.
But looking as she was looking at the girl better, Rhaella remembers what Aerys told her when he took her on that table. She didn't pay much attention, but now, taking a better look at the girl, who had long brown hair, Rhaella understood who the man her husband was referring too. HE must be for sure a son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. And understanding this, Rhaella, turning to the king, whispered, "It's Lyanna Stark the girl you choose for Rhaegar, isn't she?"
"What makes you think?" he asked, not turning to her.
"The boy on the dragon. He had dark hair."
"Almost all Westeros had dark hairs."
"But only the Starks had wargs powers, or had," she replied.
"How do you know that?"
"I read books and-"
"Now I understand from whom he took the bad habit of loving books more than his sword," replied the King, in annoyance. "Maybe if you swallowed swords when he was in your womb instead of books, now he wouldn't be a weak-minded warrior, but strong as the conqueror."
High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found
And the ones
Who had loved her the most.
Prince Rhaegar finished, as Lyanna cleaned her tears immediately, and hear her little brother, say, "Are you crying, Lya!?" and who looked at her with amusement and scorn.
Lyanna felt her face turn red because of that, and a wave of anger grew inside of her for her younger brother had destroyed her moment of admiration towards the Prince. Out of fury, she held her goblet and pour wine over his head, leaving Benjen soaked and reeking.
"Lyanna!" Ned warned her, and she gives him a look, while Brandon tried to avoid laughing, with his hand covering his mouth.
"You'll pay for this sister!" Benjen promised.
"Oh, hold your tongue, you brat!" she told him, crossing her arms in annoyance, and starting to look around, receiving also a warning look from her father who was speaking with Lord Tully.
But when she returned her attention back to the young Prince, she caught him looking at her, and that made her even more embarrassed for making a full of herself with that childish move, however, the small smile he gives her, was enough to ease that embarrassing situation.
"Tell me, little brother, did I miss something?" his brother asked, sitting on the chair, leaning his back against the table and his elbows resting on it, while he had a cup of wine in his hand.
"I don't know what you're referring to, brother," murmured Ned taking a sip.
"I may be drunk, but my eyesight is not completely blurred yet," he chuckled, giving him a push with his shoulder. "You are interested in the Dornish girl. The one with haunting violet eyes."
And hearing that, Ned blushed immediately looking down, and his brother immediately started to laugh. Leaning he whispered, "I heard that the Dornish woman doesn't care if they lose their womanhood before getting married, so I would say, this is your perfect time to taste a woman."
"I'm not interested."
"Liar. Since the feast started, you never took your eyes off her. You want her, you lusted her, so as a brother, I advise you to move your ass before someone else gets a bloody sword."
Realizing the meaning of that, Ned shakes his head, and taking a sip, "You are disgusting, brother."
"I know. But someone must be to pull you little brats out of your shell of shyness," his brother laughed. "Listen up. Since the begging, that girl wanted to ride a wolf, so unless you don't want me to make the honors of House Stark, you will get your ass up and invite her to dance."
"I can't. Father-"
"By the old gods, Ned. I swear, Lyanna has more balls than you in this. Stop thinking about father for a moment and invite the girl to a dance."
"I think I need another mug of wine," said Ned, getting up, and hear his brother muter a bloody hell, and a hand dragging him.
"What are you doing, Bran?" Ned asked, as his brother was leading him towards the table where the Dornish ladies were sitting.
"Greetings, my ladies. Princess Elia. I'm Brandon Stark of Winterfell," his bother presented himself, looking at all the girls, but Ned's gaze stood only on one, who was smiling at him.
"Come one, Ned, say something, for fuck's sake," said his brother Brandon, patting his back. "Beg your pardon, Lady Ashara, but my brother is quite shy."
"Shy?" asked the girl, with a raised eyebrow. "He wasn't very shy when I met him a few hours ago."
And Ned blushed at hearing that, and his brother teasing way wasn't helping. "A few hours ago?"
He really didn't know what to say or do right now to get out of this mess and embarrassment, but fortunately, Princess Elia broke the awkward moment, asking, "You are the one the ladies call the Wild wolf?"
"I am, my Princess. Would you like to dance with me, Princess Elia?" asked his brother, cockily.
"I'd be delighted to," the woman replied, getting up, and Brandon lead her to the dancing floor, leaving him therefore alone with Lady Ashara.
He really didn't know how to start, but then taking a long breath, he asked, nervously, "Would you give me the honor?" pointing out to where others were dancing, and her eyes sparkled. Her beautiful purple eyes like a star lightening up a dark sky.
"I would." Lady Ashara smiled and offered him her hand, which he took, without hesitation. She fits so good in his arms as they were dancing. Her waist was thin, although her hips were curvy. Lady Ashara Dayne wore a beautiful purple gown, a mysterious smile and before the first song was over, he was already looking for ways to make sure a second one would follow.
"So, Lord Eddard, you never speak as you dance?" She asked him, biting her lip, and Ned blushed a bit, however, replying honestly, "I don't dance much, my lady."
She smiled at him, and her smile warmed his heart more than any Northern fire heart, and hear her say, "You should do. Your feet have not stepped on mine yet, your arms are gentle, and I do not imagine any lady would be less than pleased to share a dance with you, Lord Eddard."
Ned tried to brush away her compliments, blushing furiously, but still continued, "You may call me Eddard, or Ned."
"I still prefer Lord Eddard," She replied, with shining eyes full of lust. She was so different from the other ladies of the south that he met in his lifetime.
"So, I heard you accompanied the prince to the Stepstone when you fought the Blackfyre," Ashara said. "How is our dear prince, behaving."
"Quite good, I would say. He is honourable, merciful, and of course of good heart," replied Ned hoping that she won't be too curious on that matter, because he didn't want for the great secret to come out.
"I'm glad to hear that. At least after so many years, we will finally have a good king on that throne," she said looking towards the royal table.
"And you, my lady. What is your story?" he asked, wanting to change the argument.
"Well, what can I say. I'm the third born of an ancient house that bears the emblem of a falling star, and my dear brother is the most famous knight in the Seven Kingdoms and maybe beyond. So, I would say nothing special," she replied, smiling and glancing up at him.
"You have forgotten the most important thing, my lady," Ned replied, looking her in the eye, and seeing her raise an eyebrow in a question, and he immediately hastened to add, "That you are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms."
The lady blushed at hearing his words, and looked immediately down, "You are flattering me, my lord. But I doubt I'm the most beautiful woman of the Seven Kingdoms. There are far more pretty women than me. Lady Cersei for example-"
"No one is more beautiful to me," he replied, with barely a whisper, not believing his own words. His heart was beating was and his mind was racing. But taking a breath, he asked, "M-May I kiss you?" and she nodded. So, Ned, leaning down, placed a kiss on her soft lips. Then he immediately broke the contact, but already missing her soft lips.
They continued to dance in a quite awkward situation, until she was the one to break it, asking with a cocky smile, "Are you joining the jousting tomorrow, Eddard?"
"I'm afraid not, my lady." He said and she eyed him wondering.
"You do not joust?" She asked.
"I don't like fighting at Tourneys, riding, or sword fighting," Ned answered.
"Why is that?" Lady Ashara whispered with curiosity, leaning more near his ear.
Releasing a sigh, Ned replied honestly, "I don't fight in tournaments because when I fight a man for real, I don't want him to know what I can do."
"Why, Lord Eddard, now you are making the rest of the knights sound like egotistical fools and I do not imagine my brother would like the thought." She chuckled against his neck, and Ned felt the goosebumps taking over his body. "Can't say I don't see that you are right. But why deny the boys their favorite sport." She asked, tilting her head to meet his eyes.
"War should not be a sport," he murmured, no judgment, only speaking his mind. He stated this many times during his warding, and the knights of the Vale laughed at him, thinking he was joking, and he was sure the same will think the lady.
"No, it should not. But surely you will not tell them that," Ashara pointed out to a whole lot of excited men, trading jokes and mockery at a table.
Ned smiled. "I will make sure I don't. I would not want to upset the Sword of the Morning." He said and she eyed him amused. He was a good and honorable man, Arthur Dayn, but someone he got too cocky because of his reputation, but of course, it was something Ned would never say in front of his sister.
"I appreciate it, I would rather you two got along." She said and he felt the goosebumps again. This he can never reveal to Bran, otherwise, he will mock me to no end.
"So would I." He answered, never breaking the eye contact, before leaning down to give her another kiss.
Rhaegar was watching the son's lords dancing with their ladies, and he wanted so much to ask Lady Lyanna for a dance but couldn't. His mother advised him to stay away from her in front of everyone because his eyes betrayed the love, he had in for her.
So now he had to sit apart watching as she danced with someone else from the northern side it seems. But what caught his attention was Eddard dancing with Lady Ashara. A shy young man the quite wolf was, never seen with a woman during the last four years, but it seems that the wolf had been bewitched by the maid with laughing purple eyes. And also, he seems to smile a lot with her as he was dancing, something he usually didn't do.
However, when he saw them steal kisses, turning to his friend, Rhaegar said, "It seems your sister has conquered a wolf," and giving a look also to Ser Barristan, who was looking at them with jealousy. Poor man. The girl would never return his feeling and he should know it.
"As long as she is happy, I have nothing to object with that," replied Arthur, and Rhaegar smiled. "But she is not the only one who conquers someone."
"She is betrothed to someone else."
"Yes, betrothed, not married. And the same goes for you, my prince. Don't waste opportunities you may regret in the future," his friend, said, but Rhaegar didn't reply. Yes, it was true, but still, what if he does a wrong step and upsets the girl? He couldn't bear that.
He started to look around at all those lords and ladies ready to throw their daughters in his arms, hoping that he may choose one as his queen. Then there was Robert in a contest drink with Ser Richard Lonmouth.
However, after taking a long sip of wine, Rhaegar muttered a "Fuck it!", and got up, ready to do what he promised to not do, not carrying for what the others may think.
"Lady Cersei is waiting for you to invite her to dance, my prince," said Ser Barristan, trying to stop him.
"Then let her wait," Rhaegar replied. He didn't care what the lioness wants or waiting. He preferred a wolf.
Rhaella saw her son start to move towards the table where Lyanna was sitting with her ladies and her father who was in a deep conversation with one of his lords, and she saw the determination in her son's look at that. She wasn't stupid. She knew what he wanted to do.
"What in the seven hells is he doing?" murmured Aerys, anger clearly displayed on his face as the hall went silent the moment he stopped in front of the girl.
"Following his heart," she replied, smiling to herself.
"Lord Stark. May I request the pleasure of a dance with your daughter, Lady Lyanna?" her son asked the old wolf, and she saw him become white like a ghost. However, the girl immediately got up and smiling, replied, a bit too eagerly, "I'd be delighted to."
And her son took the girl's hand, leading her to the center of the floor, under the envious looks of the other ladies, especially Cersei Lannister, who was fuming in anger at this. The same thing could be said about Robert Baratheon and Brandon Stark.
She felt the pressure of his other hand warm against her waist. She places her free hand on his shoulder, and they began to spin in delicate circles.
The music spins around them. He watched as her smile grew as big as his. Happiness flared in her eyes at every spin that he does with her. A quite good dancer the She-wolf of Winterfell was, despite her wild reputation. She was so beautiful and so young. He knows he had fallen in love with her the first time he saw her face the attackers in the Godswood, and now this little rebellious moment was theirs.
Nothing else matters at that moment. Not the lords, not the ladies. Not their families or their friends. No one. Only them. He wasn't a prince in this moment, and she wasn't a high-born lady. Only a man and a woman, dancing in their secret love, if that could be called. He dips her body backward, her silver hair almost touching the floor.
His face is inches from hers, so much so that their noses are almost touching. He lifts her back up, pushing her away, but their hands remain touching, catching her as their arms pull taut and spinning her out and away.
Then he rears her back in, unable to give her up. She falls into him, his strong arms wrapping her closely to him, and the music ended. Rhaegar lost himself in her eyes for a moment, bewitched and wanting to kiss her so much, but knowing it wasn't the perfect moment.
All the great Hall was in silence for a moment watching the prince and the daughter of the Warden of the North standing there, looking at each other, as those who were around didn't exist, and then Rhaella hear, a powerful voice coming from the side of the Northmen roar, "A toast to the Dragon Prince and the She-wolf of Winterfell!" and everyone started to cheer and clap their hands.
She looked at her husband for a moment, seeing him full of rage, and she dreaded the outcome of whatever will happen. Then, looking at the others who were involved, like Robert Baratheon and Lord Stark, and Rhaella saw anger, unhappiness, and even more unreadable moods. This will not end well, she thought as the two lovers parted immediately, and she gives a knowing look to her son as a warning.
Tomorrow, she will have to speak with him, but tonight, let the water calm down.