"There are plenty of strong young men on the dance floor, plenty worthy of your hand," Viserys spoke first, his hands clasped together as he stood between his brother and eldest daughter, "Why do you stand at the sidelines for so long?"
The three dragons stood together, staring out at the dancers ahead of them. It was rather fitting, one would think, for Daemon to be on one side of Viserys and Naenya to be on the other. It resembled the evil that sat upon one shoulder of a King and the good that sat upon the other. However, when it came to Targaryens, each side held at least a sliver of wicked insanity.
"I'm figuring out my future with each suitor," Naenya said simply, gesturing towards Aaron Greyjoy, "He's took rough with the ladies he dances with, pulling them this way and that, I can imagine that trait carrys beyond the dance floor,"
The three dragons watched Aaron Greyjoy closely. The hand placed on the woman's waist was tight, the fabric of her dress ruffled at his fingers. It was a lady of House Bolton, her dress pure black with whispers of red that seemed to give off impressions of blood spatter around her arms and shoulders. The lady allowed herself to be pulled and positioned like a doll though her head was held high as though she were the one making the movements. Much like the Bolton men, Bolton women were not easily shaken by others.
"Laenor Velaryon would be a respectful match," Viserys said, glancing towards the young boy, "And it would bond us even further to House Velaryon and their fleet,"
"I need to secure undying support from a Gret House that isn't already fully tied to us," Naenya shook her head, watching the boy blush as a Tyrell lord offered him wine, "Laenor Velaryon may be better suited with Rhaenyra. It would bring us closer while still getting another House in line,"
"My my, my. My dear niece sounds like one of those annoying lords on your council, Viserys," Daemon smirked, taking a goblet of wine out of a passing Lords hands, "You best put her under my tutelage so I can iron out those boring creases,"
Naenya let out a small laugh which she covered with a cough, giving her uncle a sneaky side smile.
"Well, there are plenty of young Lords for your choosing," Viserys began, quickly getting cut of by Daemon's quick wit.
"Yes, plenty of young men just waiting for their fathers to die so they can become Lord of their house," Daemon grinned, watching the crowd of dancers lazily, "Jason Lannister, Elden Baratheon, Garret Tyrell-"
"There is Ormund Hightower as well," Viserys added, glancing over at the Hightower boy who was speaking with his uncle Otto.
"I am sure he is a sweet man," Naenya said, rolling her eyes at her fathers affinity for the Hightowers, "But his house isn't a Great House,"
"There's Wren Arryn?" Daemon brought up, pointing his goblet towards the boy, "You could mold him easily to whatever you needed,"
The three dragons turned their attentions to the Arryn boy. He was younger than Rhaenyra by three years, still in the mould of his childhood. Wren was on the dance floor with his mother, too young for any Lady looking for a suitor to consider.
"I need someone around my age for this to work best," Naenya said bluntly, her eyes softening as Wren accidentally bumped into the Bolton lady and began apologising profusely, "Though I am sure that, once he comes of age, any Lady would be lucky to have such a sweet boy,"
"What of Elden Baratheon? I heard he enjoyed a good bit of annoying you, my sweet niece," Daemon brought up, grinning into his cup as Naenya glared at him.
"Ah yes, a fine man from a fine family," Viserys said, seeming not to have heard Daemon's extra comments.
As Naenya was about to respond, a rise in volume caught the dragons attentions. Turning back towards the dance, she noticed each dancer had stopped and were circled around the middle of the dance floor. Chatter began to break out within the circle, eager whispers and disapproving tones. It was the type of chatter one would expect during a brawl on the streets.
"What is going on?" Viserys muttered, turning to call for the guards.
Daemon and Naenya had already begun moving into the circle, trying to catch what was going on as the sounds of fists hurtling against skin echoed off the stone walls. Pushing through the excited Ladies and eager Lords, Naenya quickly approached the circle's front.
Naenya could finally hear and see what was going on. Elden Baratheon stood over a fallen Garret Tyrell, who was staring up at the Stag with blazen eyes as he wiped his lips of blood. Glancing around, she could feel the tension between the two Houses. The Baratheons were stood behind Elden, Lady Baratheon ready to claw Garrets eyes out for her son as the Tyrells were behind Garret, Lord Tyrell shaking with anger over the embarrassment.
She could hear the intensity in Elden's tone, realising he was now speaking quietly to the beaten Gareet. There was a great deal of emotion behind whatever words he was speaking, too lowly for her to hear.
"A very fine man indeed," Daemon whispered into Naenya's ear, though the spark in his eyes showed approval.
"What is this blatant show of disrespect?"
Viserys bellowing voice could be heard from across the room as the Kingsguard pushed through the crowds to break up the fight well after it was over. Ser Loren grabbed Elden, who was smiling to himself at his work. Elden only held minor injuries, light blood on his lip thatmay or may not have been his, and bloodied hands from the beating he had given. It was Garret Tyrell that looked hard done by, with Ser Steffon holding the boy up.
The crowds quickly parted as Viserys walked through, Ser Harrold and Otto Hightower by his side.
"What is this?" Viserys yelled, staring down the two boys, "Why have you drawn blood in my halls? My home!?"
Silence seemed to overtake the once joyous hall, not a single person willing to speak while their King demanded answers. Garet Tyrell appeared to have his mouth stolen from him, merely casting his gaze away angrily.
Elden, however, seemed more than willing to talk.
"When we were younger, I promised princess Enya that I would fight for her and only her. And, when I did, it would be enthralling, and I wouldn't embarrass her though failure," Elden spoke, turning his gaze from Viserys to Naenya, "I have only done what I promised,"
Viserys stared at the boy in bafflement, looking around the hall for answers, "Can anyone make sense of what was just spoken?"
"Your Grace," Jeyne came towards the centre of the circle, bowing slightly as she began to speak, "I did, in fact, hear Garret talking distainfully about a female heir,"
A gasp spread through the halls, Garret only looking down ashamedly when his father glowered at him. Naenya was certain it wasn't what was said that surprised many and infuriated Lord Tyrell. Rather, it was that Garret had said it so openly. The Tyrells would be looked down on for quite some time, for words only meant to be whispered in secret.
"It seems, to me at least, that Elden Baratheon was perhaps," Jeyne paused for a second, "defending the princess' honour,"
Yet another wave of silence washed through the hall. The whole ordeal would prove difficult for even the best Lord Hand or Commander, or even King, to navigate. Letting Garret go so easily would spell disaster for Naenya's rule, with Lords and Ladies thinking such words would now be openly discussed. However, too harsh of a punishment, would push resentment from House Tyrell, who held a firm grip of Westeros most fertile land.
After some time, though it was likely only a few seconds, Viserys let out a sigh.
"Very well," Viserys began, his anger dissipating to tiredness with every second, "I would like to personally thank House Baratheon for their fierce loyalty to the throne and would like to discuss inviting them to dine with House Targaryen soon,"
Lady Baratheon glowed at the idea as Lord Baratheon merely relaxed his battle ready position and offered a mere nod.
Visery then turned to House Tyrell.
"First, Garret Tyrell will be sent to the Maesters to be looked at. It appears he did get at least some sense beaten in to him," Viserys said, regarding the boy distastefully, "Then I will summon you, Lord Tyrell, to discuss things once the alcohol that your son consumed has left his body and he is no longer left without his brain,"
Lord Tyrell nodded, his hands clenched harshly as he stared at his son.
"Alright, let us not forget that this is a joyous occasion," Viserys spoke again, raising his voice so all could hear, "Please, drink and be merry. There is still much left of the night before the ball concludes,"
The crowds did as their King commanded, some Lords and Ladies returning to dance as the bards returned to their instruments while others turned their attention to the food at their tables. Such an occurrence would not soon be forgotten, but as the occurrence had to do with a Targaryen, it was unlikely to be brought up again.
Ser Loren let go of Elden, who was left grinning as he watched Garret be pulled away by his infuriated father and a maester.
Elden appeared as he always did, slightly ruffled as he adjusted his jacket. He was standing mostly alone now, with Jeyne having retreated back to her husband and Daemon following the chaos that was sure to unfold with the Tyrells in the other room.
Despite the many Lords and Ladies dancing around them, Naenya felt almost alone with Elden. Walking up to the young man, she pulled her handkerchief that was embroider with the Targaryen sigil and held it out for him.
Looking boyish as ever, Elden took the offering and patted it to his lip. He held it out for Naenya to take back, but as she went to grab it, he softly grabbed her hand in his.
Only the handkerchief stood between their hands, touching.
Placing a soft kiss on the top of her hand, a mischievous glint took hold of his eye as he spoke, "May I have this dance?"
She gave a soft smile, 'Perhaps just once,"
He pulled her towards him, Naenya landing between his arms as his fingers quickly interlocked with hers. One of his hands slid down her waist, resting respectfully on the small of her back, as the other one guided her with the music.
... Author typing