The banquet following the triumph ceremony at the Dragonpit Camp was not overly extravagant today.
War and the infrastructure projects in the Stepstones were far too costly, so everything was kept simple.
But even so, the banquet was still quite decent, not to mention that the noble Lords were waiting to dance.
Rhaegar watched the Lords and knights chatting and laughing, smiles spreading across the room one after another.
The bronze and steel gates of the Dragonpit were thrown open; the triumph ceremony, the balls, and the tourney were like the coliseum, needing to be held constantly to appease the common folk.
The commoners and the nobility loved these things, much like sharks encountering blood.
The Dragonbane was a good king, but he did not let the people laugh, and the people never loved him.
The walls of the Dragonpit were draped with the banners of the various houses: the three-headed red dragon of the House Targaryen on a black field, the black crowned Stag of the Baratheon family on a gold field, the golden roaring lion of the House Lannister on a crimson field, the golden rose of the House Tyrell on a verdant field, and a sky-blue falcon soaring above a white moon on a sky-blue field.
First came King Jaehaerys II and his queen, followed by Prince Aerys and his wife, Duke Monde and his wife, Lord Tywin and his wife, Duke Ross and his wife, and Duke Jon and his wife, along with Ser Steffon and his wife.
The men escorted the ladies, dressed in magnificent attire, with colors chosen to match their family fields: the black and red of the Dragon King, the gold and crimson of the lion family, the verdant green and gold of the rose family, and the white and blue of the Falcon family.
Rhaegar saw a flowing river of jeweled crowns, emeralds, and high-status garments of various colors.
Next came the children, with the two little princes walking in front, greeting their elder brother; they were like mini, low-spec versions of Rhaegar.
Rhaegar urged the children forward.
Then Rhaegar walked, arm in arm with Roberta. The two were radiant, looking like a perfect pair.
Rhaegar had his hair bound with a black gold ring set with a ruby, wearing black silk robes embroidered with shimmering Silver Dragons, and a black and red dragon belt at his waist.
Roberta was dressed in a gold gown. Her lazily flowing hair draped over her shoulders, pinned with a running golden Stag, and her smile was shy and sweet.
Behind them came the golden twins of House Lannister, the brothers of the Baratheon family, and others.
Robert nudged his brother, "Stop making such a long face, Stannis, cheer up. The banquet is sumptuous today, enjoy it to the fullest."
Stannis dared to be angry but dared not speak, "Brother, we are guests. If we mess this up, Sister will beat us to death."
"Look at you!" Robert said dismissively.
Stannis felt bitter inside; his life seemed to be a torment for the second son, always coming second, with everyone's eyes only on Robert.
Why was he not Robert? Robert was more handsome and taller than him, braver and more skilled in battle, better at merrymaking, and more charming.
Everyone praised Robert for having the soul of the Laughing Storm. As for himself, he was just a second son in the corner.
"This rude and wild Stag—whoever marries him in the future will be truly unlucky!" Cersei thought as she watched the long-limbed, boisterous Robert.
Honestly, her brother Jaime and the Stag-house Robert were both considered handsome, but compared to Prince Rhaegar, they were like thorns to a rose.
Several singers were strumming their harps vigorously, singing ballads. They sang praises of friendship and love.
After the Lords, knights, and celebrities were seated, everyone raised their glasses to toast and congratulate one another, then began the feast.
Rhaegar and Roberta sat together; this table was filled entirely with the offspring of the great Lords, positioned slightly lower than the high table where the King and Queen and the Dukes and their wives were seated.
Rhaegar observed that the children possessed the honorable features of their respective houses.
The children of the Stag house were all taller, with silky, charcoal-black hair and blue eyes inherited from their mother.
The lion family had the golden twins, with the classic golden curls and emerald eyes of House Lannister, tall in stature and fair-skinned.
Rennal Arryn had sandy-gold hair, blue eyes, and an aquiline nose, and when he smiled, he had very attractive dimples; people said this was what Duke Jon looked like as a child.
They were all handsome men and beautiful women, Rhaegar sighed.
Westerosi were very much an appearance-obsessed society; being handsome or beautiful was a huge bonus.
After generations of genetic optimization, the children of the Lords, especially the great Lords, were almost all famous for the beauty characteristic of their houses.
The Wolf house had grey hair and long faces, the lion house had blonde hair and green eyes with tall builds, and House Tully had auburn hair, blue eyes, and delicate cheekbones.
However, appearance did not represent the inner self, and it was hard to say what their moral core was like; Rhaegar knew that at the very least, there was one lunatic, Cersei, at this table.
So it wasn't entirely that Tywin looked down on the dwarf; appearing among a group of handsome men and beautiful women, a Half-man was indeed very shameful and impossible to marry off. Tywin had even tried to find a pregnant Florent woman who had been with Robert for his youngest son, but even that was rejected; others would rather marry their own household knights.
Rhaegar noticed everyone's expression: Roberta was natural and innocent, Robert was bold and passionate, Stannis was reserved, carrying a bit of the sensitivity of a second son. The twins of House Lannister appeared haughty and arrogant. Rennal, on the other hand, was sunny and free-spirited.
"Are the Norvos axemen of Dorne very powerful?" Robert asked Rhaegar, leaning over his sister; although he was young, he was born with great strength and possessed the soul of a warrior.
"Very powerful, but I fear you wouldn't be able to stand it if you went to Dorne."
"Why? Could my warhammer not crush that axeman?" Robert asked.
"Dorne has raging sands and a scorching sun; you might not be able to endure that." Rhaegar smiled; he understood Robert quite well. In terms of his love for enjoyment, Robert was very similar to the mediocre King Aegon—both were handsome in their youth, only to become fat and bloated by the time they died, completely forgetting their identity as warriors.
"Fair point, I've heard many say it's barren and sparsely populated, with nothing fun to do." Robert backed down; he was not only a born warrior, akin to the Laughing Storm, but also a person with strong material desires who knew how to enjoy life, destined to indulge in hedonism. Compared to Dorne, he preferred the bustling and prosperous places like King's Landing and The Reach.
"The children are growing up slowly; they are nearing the age for marriage negotiations," Lady Joanna said to Princess Rhaella.
"Indeed! It would be even better if Princess Elia's children were all here," Princess Rhaella said, then changed the subject, "However, the children are still too young; it will be better when they are older."
Since Princess Rhaella was so insistent, no one said much more. They only hoped that Prince Rhaegar would not end up like Aegon IV, fathering a huge pile of bastards.
Princess Rhaella maintained a cautious attitude regarding her children's marriages, especially since they were still young. The Iron Throne had suffered greatly from hasty betrothals and broken engagements.
Rhaegar was at the table with the children this time; the beautiful golden boy and girl were already dazzling the entire venue.
When the fruit, cheese, and drinks were served and then cleared away, the master of ceremonies announced loudly.
"Next, Prince Rhaegar will present a song for everyone! A song originally sung by the singer Justin."
Rhaegar gave Roberta a smile, walked to the front, and raised his silver-stringed ancient harp; this song was about the feeling of missing one's homeland.
The melody of "500 Miles" began to play; Rhaegar hummed the tune of the song, letting the melody flow from the music. Tonight, everyone was a homesick soul who had not returned; oh, homeland, homeland. In truth, Rhaegar had originally wanted to dedicate this song to the orphans of the Greenblood River in Dorne, but upon further thought, after the fall of Old Valyria, was the House Targaryen not also homeless exiles?
The slightly melancholic music began to play, and everyone felt a wave of longing. Those beautiful, irretrievable homelands—did they still have their lovers, their homes? Returning from ten thousand miles away without reaching home; everyone had an unforgettable homeland in their hearts.
Beautiful ladies had tears in their eyes, wanting to comfort the prince under the moonlight and his slightly melancholic music. The men were also somewhat sorrowful, especially the royal escort soldiers who had been away on campaigns; this music seemed to bring to mind so much—vanished lovers, homelands they could not return to.
[Achievement: Mastery of Musical Instruments; you played the harp with all your heart and soul, and the music stunned everyone.]
"Sister, why are you crying?" Robert mocked. "I don't like this kind of music; I like the loud, noisy kind, about bears and beautiful maidens."
Roberta glanced at her brother, and a glass of golden wine was poured onto Robert's head, the liquor spilling down his face.
"I told you, don't make Sister angry," Stannis said, gloating.
The Silver Dragon of King's Landing and the doe of Storms End danced together.
The two spun and danced together, their movements elegant and nimble.
Rhaegar's parents and grandparents were all products of Targaryen incest; he possessed the most iconic silver hair and purple eyes, unearthly beauty, and a tall stature. In fact, he also had some Martell blood and blood from House Dayne. Rhaegar's beauty was already unrivaled. Now, tempered by fire, he was even more radiant.
Lady Roberta was no less impressive; the doe had inherited her tall stature and thick black hair from her paternal Baratheon family, and her azure eyes from her mother. She was the kind of beautiful rose that poets sang of, a beauty who outshone all others. That was a vitality from the Stormlands, natural, vigorous, and fiery.
The other noble girls who were eager to try their luck felt they had even less of a chance in comparison. The doe was exquisitely beautiful, the champion among young maidens, and moreover, she had dragon blood; this was basically a guaranteed victory.
"Truly beautiful!" Rhaegar praised.
"You as well! It would be even better if you were a bit more natural and youthful; the Prince is only twelve, yet possesses double the maturity." Roberta said, her azure eyes as deep as the sea. Rhaegar saw joy, shyness, sweetness, and playfulness in her eyes.
Rhaegar laughed heartily; if he were to forget everything, he should dance wildly to the fullest. Not only should one have a fierce tiger in their heart, but one should also sniff the rose. Young people should not only have battle and hot-bloodedness, but also the scent of roses and perfume.
The two danced together, ignoring the gazes of others, shining bright in the middle of the dance floor.
"Stay away from what my sister wants, or she will hammer your head in," Robert thought viciously as he saw Cersei's infatuated expression.
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