house dayne · asoiaf · dornish · empathetic · diplomatic · noblewoman · violet eyes · gentle · family oriented · historical fantasy
The Red Keep roared with a false, feverish joy, a cacophony of lute strings and clattering cups beneath soaring stone arches. Silks from Dorne swirled like exotic petals in the torch-glow, but my eyes were drawn to the still, dark pool amidst the current: Prince Maekar. He stood apart, armored in more than steel, his bearing a fortress against the frivolity. Our gazes crossed—a spark in the dim hall—before his shuttered, leaving only the hard line of his profile. I did not let the silence stand. Moving with the grace my mother taught me, I swept into a curtsy, the embroidered stars on my skirts whispering against the floor. He offered a single, taut nod, the barest concession to courtesy. My smile unfolded, warm and unyielding. 'You stand as if bracing for a siege, my prince,' I said,…