The music of the ball echoed through the ancient great hall of Evenfall Hall.
Robert Baratheon was undoubtedly the most popular male partner. Young, strong, and though lacking the refined handsomeness of Jaime Lannister, he exuded the bold, unrestrained aura of a warrior. His noble status as Lord Paramount made him the center of attention.
Princess Elia Martell was naturally the pearl upon whom all gazes converged; her elegance and status made her shine brilliantly.
Aside from her, noble maidens from Harvest Hall, Fawn's Crag, Rook's Rest, Crow's Nest, and other parts of the Stormlands were like blooming flowers, spinning and laughing in the dance pool, their skirts flying.
However, outside this jubilation, young Brienne of Tarth sat alone in a shadowy corner. Her large frame was slightly hunched with nervousness, her rough fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her dress tightly. Faced with the surrounding radiance, she felt deeply inferior and out of place due to her appearance. Not a single young man dared to approach and invite this lord's daughter, who seemed so different from the surrounding atmosphere, to dance.
Even though today, she was supposed to be the protagonist of the feast.
Euron Greyjoy crossed through the noisy crowd, stopped in front of her, and made an inviting gesture.
"I... I can't dance." Brienne's face turned beet red instantly, her heart pounding like a war drum. This sudden attention, especially from Euron, who had just been highly praised by the Lord Paramount, made her feel an unprecedented warmth of being valued.
"It doesn't matter," Euron's tone was relaxed and sincere. He winked and said, "Actually, I'm not very good at it either. Why don't we imagine dancing as sword practice? Treat these steps as footwork when facing an enemy?"
One dance finished. Though their steps couldn't be called elegant, Brienne's tense expression relaxed significantly. She lowered her head and quickly said in a voice almost too quiet to hear, "Thank you."
The lingering notes of the music still flowed in the air, but Brienne's mosquito-thin "thank you" fell clearly into Euron's ears. He stopped and looked down at the tall girl beside him with slight curiosity.
"Thank you?" Euron repeated, genuine confusion in his tone. "Why say thank you?"
Brienne's cheeks flushed redder. She subconsciously tried to hide her large, calloused hands behind her back, her gaze dodging his, her voice getting smaller. "Because... because no one has ever been willing to ask me to dance. Everyone thinks I... I'm not pretty, can't do embroidery, and my needlework is a mess..."
Her words were filled with long-accumulated inferiority.
Euron didn't refute immediately. Instead, he studied her seriously for a moment, his gaze finally landing on her subconsciously clenched hands. His tone became affirmative, even carrying a hint of appreciation like discovering a gem. "But what I see is different. I see someone whose swordsmanship must be quite good. Your hands are covered in thick calluses; those aren't worn out by playing with embroidery needles, but proof of gripping a sword hilt day after day. Though you are very tall, your steps just now showed your lower body is stable and your movement agile—that requires practicing countless swings, thrusts, slashes, and footwork transitions every day to achieve. These things," he emphasized, looking at her with burning eyes, "are not something ordinary girls can do. Even many boys can't persist in it."
Brienne jerked her head up. Her large blue eyes were filled with disbelief and a flicker of ignited light. She asked timidly for confirmation, "Re... really?"
"Of course!" Euron answered without hesitation. He laughed, using an incredibly vivid metaphor to give her the firmest affirmation. "Girls who can embroider, sew, and look pretty can be found everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. But a girl who can train well with a sword and has a knight's dream burning in her heart? That is as rare and precious as a dragon in Westeros."
Euron's praise made Brienne blush furiously, but it also made her drop her guard. Unable to suppress her inner curiosity and excitement, she began to fire questions like a rapid-fire ballista.
Brienne asked about Euron's duel with Jaime Lannister, about the legendary Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne, about the Kingsguard Euron had met, and whether Prince Rhaegar was as perfect as the rumors said...
When she learned that Euron was actually betrothed to Arthur's sister, her eyes lit up instantly. She pressed him about how superb Arthur's swordsmanship truly was, what the legendary greatsword "Dawn" looked like, and how his chivalry shone.
Upon hearing that Euron had trained on Dragonstone with the three White Knights and Prince Rhaegar himself for three whole months, she was so excited she became almost incoherent. It was as if she were the one who had gone to Dragonstone, not Euron.
"It's a pity... I'm not a boy." Brienne's voice suddenly dropped, her massive hands clenching in disappointment.
Hearing this, Euron laughed. "What does that matter? The laws and spirit of knighthood, written in black and white—which article, which clause stipulates that only men can become knights?"
Brienne jerked her head up, her blue eyes filled with disbelief and faint hope. "I... Can I really? Can a woman become a knight?"
"Of course!" Euron's answer was decisive. "You have thick bones, innate divine strength, height, and broad shoulders. These natural gifts surpass even average men. What's more rare is that you have a heart that yearns for the way of the knight and is willing to persist for it. I believe that as long as you are willing to put in the effort, you will definitely become an excellent knight in the future."
"Okay!" Brienne seemed to have found her direction in life, her tone becoming incredibly firm. "I must be like you, and become a respected knight!"
"Me?" Euron paused, then laughed and shook his head. "No, I am not a knight. I probably won't be in the future either... no, I should say I will never be a knight!"
"Why?" Brienne froze in confusion.
"I am an Ironborn of the Iron Islands," Euron's tone held a trace of self-mockery and frankness. "We believe in the Drowned God. We reave salt, iron, and rock. Our King calls us Ironborn 'pirates.' When have you ever heard of a pirate from the Iron Islands becoming a knight?"
Brienne was stunned for a moment. Then, her innocent logic began to turn, and she retorted even more firmly, "You just said that even women can become knights. Then why can't Ironborn?"
Euron was amused by her counter-question that hit the core. Looking at the unquestionable fire of belief burning in her eyes, he finally laughed aloud. "Put that way... it actually makes a lot of sense!"
In A Song of Ice and Fire, this Game of Thrones, there weren't many people Euron truly appreciated. Brienne was one of them, because of her persistence and consistent heart.
She might not be overly clever, but she was right about one thing—the Iron Islands were also one of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Who said Ironborn couldn't be knights?
Euron extended his hand, laughing heartily. "Good! Then let us make a knight's pact!"
"Mm." Brienne was still a bit shy, but she nodded heavily, reaching out to grip Euron's hand tightly.