Chapter 33: The Dance with Two Ladies
…
Elia Martell POV
The hall was alive with music and laughter, the scents of spiced wine and perfume mingling in the air. Lords and ladies moved gracefully across the dance floor, their gowns and doublets a swirl of vibrant colors that flowed with the music.
My mother, radiant in her gown of Martell oranges and golds, danced, her smile warm and inviting as she turned with her partner.
I had already danced with several lords and noble sons—some eager, some charming—but none had captured my interest for more than a moment.
Now, I found myself at the edge of the hall, waving away the offers that still trickled in. A polite smile remained on my lips.
My gaze wandered, no longer held by the flashing colors and movement of the dance floor.
Across the hall, my brother Oberyn was surrounded by his usual group of friends. Their laughter rose above the music, carefree and unrestrained.
It was hard not to smile at the sight—Oberyn had that rare ability to make any room feel alive with his presence, and tonight was no exception.
Yet, I noticed the slight unsteadiness in his movements, the hint of a stumble that told me he'd had a bit too much to drink.
Sitting with him were two golden-haired men, one of whom I recognized as the brother of the Lord Paramount.
The other was Galahad, the newly knighted squire who had become a familiar face over the past moon. When I first met Galahad, I'd been wary, intrigued by his quiet demeanor and the way he always seemed to blend into the background.
But as time passed, we had become friends, and I had come to appreciate the little ways he showed he cared—always ready with a handkerchief, a sweet cake, or a gentle word to lift the mood.
He had a talent for making even the simplest moments feel lighter, and I couldn't deny the warmth that thought brought me.
He had surprised me with other talents too—singing, cooking, even sewing. At first, I had laughed, finding his skills amusingly out of place.
But when he spoke of his past, of surviving alone on the streets, my amusement faded, replaced by a quiet respect. He had lived a life far removed from the one I knew, and it made me see him in a new light.
Beside him sat Prince Rhaegar, his silver hair catching the glow of the chandeliers, making him seem almost otherworldly. There was a quiet grace to him, an ease that set him apart even among a room full of nobles.
When he had arrived a few days ago, my mother's eyes had lit with ambition. She had envisioned him as a potential suitor for me.
I understood what my mother wanted, what she expected of me. Rhaegar was handsome, princely, a future king in all but name. It was the kind of opportunity most would leap at without hesitation.
But as I watched him, I felt no such urgency. I didn't know him—not truly. Yes, he was striking, yes, he carried himself with a quiet dignity, but I had yet to see the man behind the prince. I wanted to watch, to listen, to understand who he was before I made any decisions.
With that thought, my mind was made up. If my mother had her way, there would be time enough to speak to Rhaegar.
Tonight, I would go where I felt comfortable, where the laughter was familiar, where Galahad's quiet smile and Oberyn's boisterous laughter called to me.
I smoothed the folds of my dress, a familiar motion that steadied me, and took a deep breath. Not out of nerves, but anticipation.
Then, with a small, determined smile, I rose from my seat and crossed the hall, weaving my way through the throng of dancers. My path was clear, and I made my way to where my brother's group stood, my steps unhurried, my heart lighter with each one.
I moved closer to the table, surprised by the scene that greeted me. Bottles were scattered everywhere on the table, and several knights lay slumped over, passed out, their heads resting heavily on the table.
My brother, however, was still barely conscious, laughing loudly. One hand gripped a cup, while the other hung loosely around Gerion's shoulders.
Gerion, who had fallen unconscious moments before I arrived, was snoring softly, his head lolling to the side.
Prince Rhaegar didn't look much better; his violet eyes were half-shut, blinking sluggishly, lost in a haze of drunken fatigue. He didn't even notice me standing here.
I sighed. My plan to observe the prince's character would have to wait for another night. I signaled to the servants hovering nearby.
"Take my brother to his quarters—and Ser Gerion as well. See that the prince is escorted too," I instructed.
They nodded and quickly moved to fetch more help. As one servant reached for the prince, a voice cut in.
"There's no need. I'll take it from here," said Ser Arthur Dayne, his movements smooth and assured, the confidence of a seasoned knight evident in every step. A fellow Dornishman, he gave me a respectful nod as he gently steadied the swaying Prince Rhaegar.
"Princess Elia, thank you for your concern," he said, a touch of gratitude in his voice as he pulled the prince to his feet.
"It's a pleasure to be of help, Ser Arthur," I replied with a nod, acknowledging his presence with the same courtesy.
"No… I… must… recruit…knight," Rhaegar slurred, his words a jumbled mess.
"You're drunk, my prince. There'll be time for that another day," Arthur said patiently, his tone indulgent yet firm as he guided the stumbling prince away.
With my brother, Gerion, and Rhaegar all led from the hall—each the victim of his own excess—the servants cleared away the remains of the revelry.
But Galahad remained. He watched me with a steady gaze, his green eyes clear and sharp, taking another measured sip from his cup.
For a moment, I suspected he might be as drunk as the others, but his quiet, amused expression told me otherwise—he was perfectly sober.
"It's a surprise to see you still standing, Galahad," I said, glancing at the abandoned bottles of Arbor Gold scattered across the table. "Were you all competing to see who could drink the most?"
His laugh was easy, his smile wry. "Something like that," he said, setting his cup down. "Though it looks like I had the better sense to stop before it got the best of me."
I found myself smiling at his lightheartedness, feeling the tension of the evening ease a little.
Then, to my surprise, he stood up and stretched, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He extended his hand to me, a playful glimmer in his gaze. "It seems you're finally free, Princess of Dorne. Would you grant a lowly knight the honor of a dance?"
I blinked, taken aback by his boldness, but I felt a warmth bloom inside me at his straightforward manner. "Just one dance," I said, matching his jest with my own. "Consider it your reward for becoming a knight."
His grin widened, and we made our way to the dance floor. Finding an empty space, I prepared myself to lead, assuming Galahad would stumble through the steps.
Instead, he moved with surprising ease, matching the rhythm effortlessly, his confidence adding yet another unexpected layer to the lad I thought I knew.
As we moved together, he started humming—a soft, lilting melody that caught me off guard. The tune was unfamiliar, peaceful yet tinged with a hint of melancholy, as if he were pulling it from a place deep inside.
His voice was low and steady, weaving seamlessly with the music filling the hall, and I found myself leaning in, captivated by the rise and fall of each note.
"What are you humming?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
"A song I've been writing for someone. Someone I love," he replied, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that took my breath away.
My mind raced. What was he suggesting? Did he mean me? My heart began to pound in my chest, and I braced myself for the inevitable rejection, knowing I didn't see him that way.
"She's a childhood friend of mine. She's in Lannisport. I get to see her from time to time," he continued, breaking the spell.
On one hand a wave of relief washed over me. On the other hand his answer didn't satisfy me. Maybe I was unsatisfied because he's still keeping secrets.
"Would you like to hear the song? You could tell me what you think," he offered, his eyes bright with anticipation.
I nodded, recalling the way he sang to the twins, Cersei and Jaime. I knew he had a beautiful voice.
He began to sing, his tone melancholic and soft, just for me. As we danced, I felt myself being drawn into the emotion of the song, each note washing over me like a tide.
With every verse, my body grew weaker, and by the end, tears flowed from my eyes. It was beautiful and heart-wrenching, and I found myself lost in the depths of his words and the warmth of his presence.
…
Alicent POV
I waited in the gardens of the Lionheart mansion, the cool night air wrapping around me like a gentle shroud.
Dressed in a warm fit, I settled onto a comfortable bench surrounded by oil lamps perched atop poles, their flickering light illuminating the garden in a soft, golden glow.
These lamps had been designed by Richard, with the help of the builders who worked for the family, making the space feel both inviting and secure.
While I sat reading a book, my eyes occasionally flicked up to the path, eager for his arrival.
I wasn't alone—Lionheart guards patrolled the grounds, their vigilant presence ensuring no intruders dared approach.
As I became engrossed in the story in the book, a familiar presence suddenly darkened my vision.
"Richard," I exclaimed, a wave of excitement washing over me.
"Yes," he replied, playfully releasing his hands from my eyes. I turned to face him, and my heart leaped at the sight of my handsome prince. Without hesitation, I hugged him tightly, inhaling his familiar scent.
He smelled of alcohol, and a flicker of worry crossed my mind. Was he drunk? But as I cupped his face in my hands and studied him, I realized he was sober.
"Did you finish admiring my face?" he joked, a teasing grin on his lips. I let go, unable to suppress my smile.
"Yes," I replied, my heart fluttering.
He sat beside me on the bench, and I placed my book down on the other side, my full attention now on Richard. His body radiated warmth, a welcome reprieve from the cool night.
"How's the family?" he asked, his tone sincere.
"Quite well! The new expansion is going great; the Capos and soldiers are branching out to other cities," I responded, eager to share. I detailed our progress, mentioning how my mother, now the new consigliere, has been taking on more responsibility.
I also explained that with her increased workload. my mother had made me her personal assistant, giving me a deeper insight into the family's dealings.
I've begun helping with the family business.
"Good work, Alicent. I'm proud of you," he said, wrapping his arm around me.
His words made my heart swell, and I hugged him tighter, feeling the warmth of his presence seep into me.
We continued to talk, laughter and light banter filling the air. I learned about his day, including his dance with the Princess of Dorne at the feast earlier.
I felt a little jealous and immediately wanted to dance with Richard. The thought of him twirling the Princess of Dorne stirred something deep within me, igniting a yearning to share that same joy.
"May I dance with you?" I asked, pulling my head from his shoulder, a hopeful gleam in my eyes.
"Of course, Alicent." Richard replied, his smile infectious as he took my hands. We stood from the bench, seeking an open spot in the garden where the light danced around us.
As we began to sway, the rhythm felt awkward at first—I stumbled over my own feet, unsure of the steps. But Richard patiently guided me, his gentle encouragement helping me find my footing.
Soon, he began to hum a happy tune, and we danced to our hearts' content, laughter bubbling between us as I finally got the hang of it.
When his voice slowed and the dance and song came to an end, he lifted my chin with a tender touch, leaning in closer.
I could feel my breath hitch in anticipation as our lips met, and we kissed affectionately, the world around us fading away in that perfect moment.