When the dance ends, the Westerlander knight bows low, eyes filled with admiration as he releases me. And as i turn, Harwin is there — closer than before, a step ahead of any other. This time, i do not pull away when his hand grasps mine, his grip firm and warm, sending a shiver down my spine. His voice is low, rough with suppressed desire, as he murmurs into my ear.
- Do you truly believe you can keep running from me, Daena? - I tilt my head, lips curving into a smirk as i meet his gaze fully, violet and green heat clashing.
- Run, Ser Harwin? I am only leading the chase. - Without giving him the satisfaction of a response, i spin away from him, the hem of my dress sweeping across the floor, as i am swallowed back into the crowd. I glance back over my shoulder just long enough to catch the frustration in his expression before disappearing into the throng of lords and ladies once more. Harwin will catch me like he always does of that i have no doubt. The thrill is in making him work for it.
But for now, the game continues, and my savor every moment of it. The night is young, and so am I dragon-blooded and bold, playing with fire and reveling in the heat that comes with it. The music swells, a lively tune that fills the hall with mirth and energy, but it does little to settle the unease that creeps into King's chest.
Seated at the high table, Viserys holds a goblet of wine, though he has barely touched it. His gaze drifts from one side of the room to the other, watching the mingling guests, the lords and ladies spinning in intricate dances. Yet his eyes keep returning to the center of the hall, where Rhaenyra and Daemon move together with a fluid grace that borders on impropriety. His brow furrows as he watches them, his daughter and his brother. The distance between them is too narrow, the smiles exchanged too familiar. Even now, after all these years, Viserys cannot fully discern what lies behind those shared glances. His hand tightens on the armrest of his seat, his knuckles whitening with the effort to maintain composure. The court is watching; he cannot afford to let his concerns show. Not here. Not tonight.
But then, from the corner of his eye, something else catches his attention flash of deep plum silk, a braid of silver hair glinting in the candlelight. His eyes shift, narrowing as he tracks the movement, and there you are, daughter of his younger brother Daemon, weaving through the crowd with that same effortless grace, the very image of his late mother Alyssa in her youth.
But then Harwin catches me. His large hand wraps around my waist, pulling me closer, closer than what is proper for a dance in front of the entire court. My laughter rings out like silver bells, light and teasing as i push back against him, yet the way Harwin's hand lingers, splayed possessively against the silk of my gown. The look on Harwin's face is far too unguarded, a mixture of admiration and longing. Just as quickly as he caught me, i slip away again, my skirts swirling as i twirl out of his grasp, leaving Harwin standing in the middle of the floor with a look of mingled frustration and desire. And then we both disappear from everybody's gaze. I slip through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, my heart thrumming in chest as i make my way deeper into its shadowed recesses. The sound of music and laughter fades behind as i reach a secluded passage, hidden away from the eyes of the court. This path is familiar, a secret shared only between the two of us. I've met him here before, during stolen moments when the weight of duty and the eyes of others became too much to bear.
The flickering torchlight casts long shadows along the stone walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality. Yet there is nothing dreamlike about the tension that crackles in the air as i wait, anticipation coiling like a serpent beneath my skin.
Footsteps echo faintly down the passage, the heavy tread unmistakable.
