"Handsome! Tonight, you're easily the most handsome boy here," Queen Alysanne said, watching Gaemon shoot her a playful, exaggerated look. "I'll have to get your father and brothers a set made as well. When you walk out in that tonight, I wager they won't be able to help themselves."
"That works," Gaemon replied smoothly, accepting the praise without skipping a beat. "Otherwise, I would have wasted days designing this outfit. Tonight, I'm going to open their eyes and show them what true style is."
Looking at her wildly confident son, Alysanne's eyes crinkled at the corners, and a doting smile touched her lips. At this moment, the Queen's heart was overflowing with absolute happiness.
As the evening progressed, the Red Keep grew increasingly lively.
Down at the castle gates, an endless stream of carriages rolled past the heavy walls one after another, finally coming to a halt before the main entrance of the inner keep.
From each lavishly decorated carriage stepped several richly dressed, meticulously adorned noblewomen, accompanied by their male escorts as they made their way into the castle.
Because the guest list was so extensive—dozens of noble houses had been invited, not even counting their massive retinues—the Red Keep's steward estimated that the final headcount for the feast would easily reach into the hundreds.
Therefore, after consulting with King Jaehaerys, it was decided to host tonight's celebration in the Great Hall's primary banqueting space. This was the largest hall in the entire Red Keep. Typically, to avoid the space feeling uncomfortably cavernous, the royal family only used the smaller dining room in Maegor's Holdfast for private dinners.
Tonight, however, the Red Keep's servants had transformed the massive hall into a spectacle of opulent grandeur.
The normally dim, imposing environment was banished by massive iron chandeliers and rows of wall sconces, illuminating the room as brightly as the midday sun. Banners bearing the sigils of the realm hung from the high stone walls, cascading beautifully toward the floor.
At the far end of the hall, directly facing the grand double doors, sat a raised dais elevated by three wide steps. Atop the dais rested a massive high table nearly thirty feet long. Behind the table sat a row of over a dozen ornately carved chairs, facing out over the vast room.
Below the dais, the main floor was split by a wide central aisle running straight from the entrance to the high table. On either side of the aisle, the floor was densely packed with long tables and benches. Each table was already set with lit candelabras, rows of golden plates, and matching golden goblets.
The nobles who had already arrived found their seats beneath the banners bearing their respective house sigils. Many of the more familiar lords and ladies had already gathered in small groups, chatting amiably and trading court gossip.
As more guests poured in, the background chatter of the hall swelled into a roaring din.
But the chaotic noise was instantly silenced by a single, booming announcement that cut through the air.
"King Jaehaerys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!"
Two Kingsguard knights in their pristine white cloaks marched into the hall, taking their posts on either side of the heavy oak doors. As one of the white knights bellowed the King's arrival, the previously raucous hall went dead silent. Every single guest immediately stood and backed away from the central aisle, bowing their heads respectfully as they listened to the herald.
As the announcement faded, King Jaehaerys strode into the hall. He wore a rich black velvet tunic and bore the golden, gem-encrusted Crown of the Conciliator upon his head, his posture rigid and commanding.
Walking beside him was his wife of decades, Queen Alysanne Targaryen.
Though she was in her forties, she looked breathtakingly elegant in a magnificent, flowing purple gown. Naturally, this stunning dress was another of Gaemon's original designs.
Cradled gently in her arms was the guest of honor: Valerion Targaryen. Too young to walk the length of the hall on his own, the toddler rested obediently against his mother as they entered the grand space.
Behind the King and Queen walked the Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, Aemon Targaryen, alongside his wife, Jocelyn Baratheon. Their five-year-old daughter, Rhaenys Targaryen, held tightly to her mother's right hand as they crossed the threshold.
The rest of the Targaryen family followed in strict order of age, parading solemnly down the central aisle.
Because he was the youngest walking member of the family, Gaemon was placed at the very back of the procession. However, being last gave his entrance the dramatic flair of a grand finale.
Dressed in his impeccably sharp, militaristic uniform and polished leather riding boots, Gaemon marched in. Despite his youthful, boyish face, his features were strikingly handsome. He walked with an impossibly straight back, his chest puffed out, exuding supreme confidence as he strode down the aisle.
Watching him pass, the assembled nobles were struck by his fierce, martial aura. Were it not for his diminutive height, some might have openly gasped in admiration.
Watching Gaemon treat the royal procession like his own personal runway, Prince Baelon, who had already reached the dais with his wife Alyssa, was practically grinding his teeth to dust.
"That little brat. Showing off like that and leaving his older brothers in the dust. I'm going to make him pay for this later," Baelon muttered through clenched teeth. His venomous whisper made Princess Alyssa muffle a quiet giggle behind her hand.
King Jaehaerys, having reached the high table and taken his seat, leaned over to Queen Alysanne. Unable to contain himself, he muttered, "Who designed the boy's clothes? Have them tailor a set for me as well. It looks remarkably sharp."
Hearing her husband, Queen Alysanne couldn't help but smile. He really did show you all up, she thought, highly amused. You're a grown man, yet you're just as vain as your son.
The whispered conversations on the dais didn't affect Gaemon in the slightest.
Keeping his chin high and his expression perfectly stoic, he finished his march down the aisle, climbed the steps of the dais, and took his designated seat.
Once the royal family was seated, the lords and ladies standing by the aisle returned to their own tables. With a rustle of silk and scraping of chairs, the massive crowd settled back into their places.
The King and Queen sat in the center of the dais, resting their feet upon a crimson carpet embroidered with golden broom sprigs. The armrests of Jaehaerys's heavy oak chair had been polished over the years to a warm, amber gleam.
Seeing the hall settled, King Jaehaerys, who had been quietly surveying the room, raised his golden goblet. His voice boomed across the cavernous space.
"I thank you all for traveling so far, bearing the hardships of the road to join us in celebrating my son Valerion's nameday. You have my profound gratitude. Tonight, let there be no stiff formalities! Eat until you are full, drink until your cups run dry—the cellars and larders are open to you all. To your health, and long life to you all!"
"Long live the King!"
"Long live the Queen!"
"Long live House Targaryen!"
Accompanied by the roaring cheers, every single person in the Great Hall raised their goblets high toward the royal dais.
"Long life!"
With that final, thunderous toast echoing off the stone walls, the guests drained their cups in unison.
It was the official start of the feast. As the hall erupted back into chaotic, joyous conversation, a prepared band of musicians struck up a lively, upbeat melody.
Laughter, music, and the clatter of plates filled the colossal space. For a moment, looking out over the sea of smiling faces, it was the perfect, undeniable image of a golden age