Part Two - Of Balls and Brawls
Harwin was not lurking.
Really.
He was just walking the perimeter and doing an assessment threat.
“You’re lurking.” Morna grinned from beside him, sipping her wine as she laughed at her older brother.
“Don’t you have a lady to court?” Harwin spared a glare at his sister before turning back to the dance floor, watching as his princess twirled around in delight, her purple and gold dress flared beautifully around her.
Normally he would have enjoyed the moment, watching the beautiful Valyrian maiden glide across the hall, her sweet laughter can be heard clearly over the capochany of music and dancers dancing across the dance floor.
That is, if he can ignore her dance partner.
Lady Sayiddah Fa Toren pulled the princess in, holding her waist as they swayed to the ballad, both of them staring lovingly into each other’s eyes.
They were celebrating Ser Laenor’s and Lady Prunella Velaryon’s abrupt marriage as well as the return of Nakhuda Fa Toren with an impromptu ball that evening and that vagabond of a captain had not let go of the Princess’s hands the moment the dance floor was open.
“You know you can ask her to dance right?” Layla asked him skeptically.
“The Princess is too busy as she is hosting this ball, she has no time to indulge in a dance with me.” Harwin said dryly, ignoring his sister’s disbelief stares.
“Coward.” Morna coughed unsubtly.
Alys reached them, her cheeks were red from vigorous dancing with Joffy, grinning wildly. He was happy to see she was enjoying her first ball, wearing a dress and jewelry in Strong colors Princess Rhaenyra had gifted her, looking just like one of the Princess’s ladies in waiting.
“Will you not dance Harwin? The Princess will not say no if you ask her to dance with you.” Alys looked confused as her sisters laughed loudly. “Wait, what did I say?” The witch pouted as their sisters laughed even louder as Harwin scowled.
“You’re, hehe, exactly right, Alys.” Layla giggled, “Harwin should definitely ask Nyra for a dance.” As one, his three sisters pulled him off the wall and pushed him into the crowded dance floor, the momentum had him stopped in front of Princess Rhaenyra.
“Oh, Harwin.” Nyra smiled up to him, her purple eyes twinkled in delight. “Shall we dance?” Without listening to his answer, the princess pulled him into position just in time for the next song, the Lady Sayiddah smirking before leaving the dance floor.
Everytime their hands touched, Harwin felt like his nerves were on fire, they were standing close enough that he could breathe in her unique scent of lavender, ink and dragon musk, a combination that drove him crazy every time he caught a whiff of it.
She is intoxicating, he thought as a spin took her into her arms, her lips bared in a charming laughter as they stood nose-to-chin, her purple eyes had a look he couldn’t decipher as she stared up into his eyes.
Oh.
The loud banging of the doors opening snapped them from the weird energy enveloped them as everyone looked toward the doors. Ser Gwayne and his retinue were standing in the entrance, looking imperiously at them.
Harwin reluctantly pulled away from their embrace, noticing the princess had a bitter expression on her beautiful face before smiling a vapid smile she usually reserved for the most irritating of men as Ser Gwayne approached her in the middle of the dance floor.
“I heard you were hosting a ball Princess. I do hope you could spare me a dance tonight.” Gwayne said, offering his hand to her. The princess looked as if she wanted to say no but accepted his hand, music starting again.
Joining his sisters again, the four of them watched silently as the princess danced with the Hightower scion.
“You know brother, pretty sure I can make you some mild poison that leaves Ser Gwayne bedridden and covered in rashes for days if you want.” Alys said sweetly. Harwin ignored his sisters as they discussed some pranks to play on the hapless knight, wondering what the knight was saying to her to put such expression on her dance.
Rhaenyra was thankful that the dance didn’t require much contact between them as they dip and twirl around their fellow dancers to the rambunctious Braavos tune, her feet nimbly dancing away, avoiding the knight’s clumsy steps to the unfamiliar dance.
“It is fascinating, princess, that Stepstones embrace such diverse Essosi cultures here.” Gwayne said. “Pity there’s not much of Westerosi cultures to balance with the foreign influences.”
Rhaenyra hummed half-heartedly, trying to see if she could find Harwin or Sayiddah, tuning out the rest of the conversation. She wonders if she can get Harwin to dance again, maybe to that scandalous Dornish dance where he has to lift her around the waist every few steps.
“- how about a short-term betrothal?” Gwayne smiled down at her. “Just long enough for our family to come to Stepstone before we can host the wedding?”
Wait.
WHAT?!!
Rhaenyra screeched into a halt, ignoring the yelps of the other dancers as they accidentally crashed into her back.
“What did you just say?!” The princess exclaimed, horrified.
“Our marriage of course, my dear princess.” To her horror, Gwayne’s smile looked besotted. “Father wrote me a letter today and told me he is in the middle of negotiating a wedding contract with the King so we can get married sooner than later.”
“I-I…” Rhaenyra froze in horror as Gwayne rambled on how excited Queen Alicent was to get her stepdaughter as her sister in law and to have his brother to help administer the islands when they were married. “No.”
“What do you mean no?” Gwayne had the audacity to look confused. “Quenton was trained by my father and was a great help to uncle Ormund’s administration in Oldtown.”
“No. I will not marry you, Ser Gwayne.” Rhaenyra tilted her head imperiously as her voice rang across the now quiet hall. “You will leave Stepstones the moment your ship is prepared and to never return again, this is my edict as Princess Paramount of the Stepstones Kingdom.”
“You can’t banish me!” Gwayne was outraged. “I am your betrothed!”
“No Ser, you are just a suitor that I just rejected.”
Gwayne stomped forward, his face red with fury but before he could do anything to the princess, Harwin was there, his fist slammed against his face.
Within seconds, a riot ensued, everyone screaming as people tried to clear the floor, Gwayne and his retinue fighting against Harwin and the guards stationed in the castle.
It wasn’t till Grey Ghost crashed into the hall, breaking an entire window as his head loomed over everyone, that everyone paused in the brawl, including Harwin, who was in the middle of throttling Gwayne. As the metaphorical dust settled, Rhaenyra can see Laenor and Prue tending to a bloodied Joffrey Lonmouth on the side (apparently he had taken a blow for Laenor when one of the King’s Landing guards took a swing at him) the Strong sisters giggling drunkenly as they sat on top of their opponents while the rest looked woebegone but not grievously injured.
“What is the meaning of this?!!” Vaegon bellowed.