dancing with our hands tied | r. targaryen

xix.

115 A.C.
STORM'S END
•••

ALAYNE AND BRANDON WATCH WITH THE MANY ONLOOKERS IN THE ROUND HALL AS RHAENYRA SAT, ENTERTAINING THE PROPOSALS OF MANY SUITORS. Alayne sighs out of boredom as she throws her head back and looks over at Brandon. He looks over at her with a small smile.

Beric Dondarrion was rattling on about his castle. There was no way that he could believe that Rhaenyra would want to marry a man such as himself.

"The view of the marshes is awe-inspiring, so said Queen Alysanne herself when she honored my father and I-"

"And tell me, Lord Dondarrion, did you think my great-grandmother as beautiful as they say?" Rhaenyra interrupts.

"This was a half a century ago, Princess."

"Yes, it was," Rhaenyra says, and the crowd around them begins to laugh.

"That was unseemly, Princess," Lord Bormund mutters.

"The man is older than my father," Rhaenyra states, "It's unseemly for him to put himself forward as a contender for my hand."

"Next!" Lord Bormund shouts.

A boy from house Blackwood steps forward and Rhaenyra's mouth hangs open in surprise, "And now a child."

"The Blackwoods are an ancient house with a formidable army," Lord Boremund informs her, "In the Riverlands, they once ruled as kings. The blood of the First Men still flows in their veins."

Alayne leans closer to Brandon, "Will there be lemon cakes at dinner this evening?" Brandon chuckles softly at the question and Alayne leans away to get a better look at him, "What is so funny?"

"You are quite obsessed with those cakes," Brandon responds with a smile, "It's quite adorable really. Alayne Hightower's weakness is sugar."

Alayne gently shoves Brandon with a smile, "Shut it you."

The two of them smile at one another and Borros, who stood on the opposite side of Alayne notices this and he's officially had it.

"Enough!" Borros shouts, getting the attention of both Alayne and Brandon. Little lord Blackwood stops talking and everyone in the room looks over at him. Alayne looks over at Brandon who seems surprised by his brother's outburst.

Lord Boremund stands from his place beside Rhaenyra and Ser Criston Cole, who'd been itching to take Borros's head, places his hand on the hilt of his sword. Rhaenyra looks on from her seat, a cool expression on her face, though it was a façade as she was truly fearful that the Baratheon heir may hurt Alayne.

Borros's eyes settle on Alayne, "That is enough."

Alayne feigns confusion, "I'm sorry, I do not know what you mean, my lord."

Borros reaches out to grab Alayne, but Brandon quickly moves her away from his older brother, now standing between Alayne and Borros as though he were a wall.

Borros's lip twitches as he looks at Brandon, "You forget yourself, brother."

"No," Brandon says, thumbs on the belt of his sword, "I think you forget yourself. Alayne has not been betrothed to you yet."

Borros steps closer to Brandon, getting in his brother's face, "You are nothing but a spare. She will not choose you for you have nothing to offer."

"And aside from a title, you have nothing to offer," Brandon responds. He looks over at their father who was watching his sons intently. Boremund never broke up a fight between his boys, he believed it better for them to fight it out, and this was no different.