A Dragon's Song

A Feast of Tension

The grand hall of the Red Keep was ablaze with candlelight as the feast began. The long table was adorned with rich tapestries and lavish decorations, reflecting the opulence of the Targaryen dynasty. The clamor of conversation and laughter filled the air as nobles and their families mingled, creating a backdrop of festivity that belied the tension simmering just below the surface.

Naerys had taken her place at the head of the table, flanked by her brothers Aegon and Aemond. Tonight, she wore a gown of delicate lavender silk, its flowing fabric catching the light as she moved. The gown was adorned with intricate silver embroidery that mirrored the Targaryen sigil, its delicate designs adding a touch of regal elegance. A high, ornate collar framed her neck, and her creamy white hair was styled in loose waves, cascading over her shoulders. Her large lilac eyes sparkled with resolve as she prepared for the evening's challenges.

As the feast progressed, Naerys observed her surroundings with a practiced eye. The contrast between the two factions was stark—Rhaenyra and her family seemed to carry the weight of their own grievances, while the Greens maintained a facade of cordiality.

When the conversation turned to personal matters, the atmosphere grew noticeably colder. Aegon and Daemon exchanged barbed remarks, their words laced with underlying hostility. Naerys could feel the tension in the air, her eyes flicking to Aemond as he kept a tight rein on his anger.

The topic of dragons came up, and Daemon regaled the table with tales of his dragon Caraxes and their battles in the Step Stones. His stories served to highlight the disparity between his experiences and those of the Greens. Naerys watched as Aemond's expression hardened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

The conversation shifted to the realm's current state, and Aegon, buoyed by wine, became more outspoken. His comments about the succession were laced with a mixture of charm and arrogance. Naerys observed him with a mix of admiration and concern, aware that his indulgence and brashness could potentially be a liability.

When the discussion turned to the past grievances, Aemond's restraint began to crack. He turned to Naerys, his voice, though controlled, carried a sharp edge. "It seems that some old wounds are still raw," he said, his gaze flickering toward Jahaerys and Lucerys. "One would think the passage of time might have healed them, but clearly, some scars run deep."

Naerys felt a pang of discomfort at the harshness in Aemond's tone. She knew the depth of his resentment toward Rhaenyra and her children, and it was evident that he was not inclined to bury the hatchet. "Aemond," she interjected, her voice firm, "we must attempt to keep the peace, even if it is fragile."

Aemond's eyes met hers, his expression grim. "Peace?" he said, a note of cynicism in his voice. "We both know it's a tenuous illusion. War seems inevitable, and the sooner we accept that, the better prepared we'll be."

Naerys's gaze softened as she looked at him, understanding the frustration behind his words. "I know you feel that way," she said quietly, "but we still have to navigate these waters with care. We must choose our battles wisely."

Aemond's expression didn't soften, but he nodded curtly. "Perhaps," he said, "but our choices are growing fewer by the day."

Naerys took in the scene as she looked around the hall, her gaze falling upon the various members of the court. She observed the subtle currents of tension beneath the surface of the evening's revelry.

Jacaerys was the first to catch her attention. He was dancing with Princess Helaena, their movements graceful and full of warmth. Helaena's laughter rang out clearly, a contrast to the usual tense silence that seemed to envelop the rest of the room. Naerys smiled at the sight, noting the genuine affection between them.