The noise of the reception continued. Amidst the music and laughter, Euron keenly caught a distinctive gaze. It came from the corner where the Tarths were—Brienne of Tarth had arrived as promised, standing awkwardly beside her father. She wore a gown that clearly didn't fit her well. For a warrior accustomed to armor and sword hilts, this gorgeous constraint made her feel helpless, every movement stiff and uneasy.
Euron approached leisurely with his wine cup, his voice calm. "You came. But it looks like you aren't quite used to this place."
Brienne lowered her head, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. "Yes."
"Head up, chest out," Euron gazed at her, his tone unquestionable. "Be more confident."
Immediately, he turned to the gentle-looking yet wise old man beside her—Lord Selwyn Tarth, the "Evenstar." He bowed slightly and said, "Lord Selwyn, permit my presumption. I would like to introduce a few friends to your daughter, if I may?"
Lord Selwyn nodded with a smile. "Of course, it is her honor."
Brienne's cheeks flushed crimson. She hesitated, but finally, she lightly took Euron's arm. He first led her to Ashara Dayne. Ashara had long heard from Euron about this Tarth girl who dreamed of becoming a knight. She kindly adjusted Brienne's crooked collar and praised sincerely, "You are truly tall, and must be very brave. I believe you will become a knight."
Then, Euron led her straight to the circle of the Kingsguard—where the "Sword of the Morning" Ser Arthur Dayne, the "White Bull" Ser Gerold Hightower, "The Bold" Ser Barristan Selmy, and even Prince Rhaegar and young Jaime Lannister were gathered.
Euron's voice was clear and certain, resounding among the legendary knights. "She, Brienne of Tarth, will surely be the first true female knight of the Seven Kingdoms in the future!"
Facing these heroes she had worshipped since childhood, Brienne trembled with excitement, unable to say a word.
"The Bold" Barristan carefully scrutinized this girl, only eight years old yet exceptionally tall. His gaze swept over her bone structure and physique. He took her hand, looking at her broad palm and thick calluses, and nodded solemnly. "This path will be very difficult," he said, encouragement in his eyes. "But I look forward to that day."
Euron led the still somewhat awkward Brienne through the noisy crowd to the area where the Iron Islands forces were. Under the Kraken banner, his father King Quellon was conversing in low tones with his brother Victarion.
"Father," Euron's voice broke their conversation as he gently guided Brienne forward. "I would like to introduce a friend to you and Victarion—Lady Brienne of Tarth."
King Quellon had heard various descriptions of this "Sapphire of Tarth" and knew well her unusual height and dream of becoming a knight. However, the impact of seeing her with his own eyes was beyond words.
His sharp eyes couldn't hide his surprise. He lingered on her for a moment before slowly nodding in greeting.
Next, Euron turned to his brother, known for bravery but somewhat simple and direct. An imperceptible arc curled on Euron's lips. "And this is my brother, Victarion Greyjoy."
Victarion Greyjoy's reaction was even more blunt. He was already considered tall and majestic, but seeing Brienne's body, even taller than his own, and her broad shoulders, his eyes widened instantly, and he subconsciously took half a step back.
A terrified thought exploded uncontrollably in his mind—This is the future wife my brother mentioned finding for me?
Drowned God above, if we quarrel... will she beat me to death with one punch?
Brienne sensed his unconcealed astonishment. She lowered her head in embarrassment, blinking her clear blue eyes, and said timidly in a voice almost inaudible, "H-hello."
Euron coughed lightly, breaking the brief silence. His gaze turned to his brother, still in shock. "Victarion," his tone carried a trace of unquestionable guidance, "perhaps you should invite Lady Brienne for a dance."
Victarion seemed to wake with a start. He scratched his coarse short hair awkwardly, hesitated for a moment, but finally extended a large, calloused hand accustomed to holding weapons toward Brienne.
Brienne paused, a trace of bewilderment flashing in her blue eyes, but finally, she gently placed her hand on his, allowing this future Iron Captain to lead her into the flickering dance floor. The combination of the two appeared exceptionally abrupt, yet strangely harmonious.
Watching their retreating figures, Euron turned to his father, his voice calm. "Father, what do you think of her?"
King Quellon's gaze still followed the eye-catching figures in the dance floor. He pondered for a moment before giving an extremely restrained evaluation. "Mm... very special."
"She will definitely become an excellent knight," Euron stated with certainty.
King Quellon slowly withdrew his gaze, looking at his second son, deeper considerations flashing in his eyes. "I would prefer she become an excellent Lady of a Lord in the future. But alas..." He paused, revealing a piece of news. "Let me tell you something. I just went to see her father, Lord Selwyn Tarth, the Evenstar."
"He refused the marriage proposal," King Quellon's voice betrayed no emotion. "Said his daughter is still young, this matter... can be discussed again in a few years."
Hearing this, Euron showed no surprise, only responding faintly, "Mm, yes, she hasn't reached the age yet."
Two young figures strode through the crowd with vigorous vitality, heading straight for Euron—it was the sworn brothers Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark.
Robert's voice arrived before he did, accompanied by a burst of loud laughter. He swung his solid arm and thumped Euron's chest soundly. The force was astonishing, nearly knocking the wind out of Euron.
"You bastard!" Robert's voice was as full of power as his actions, eyes shining with pure thirst for battle. "I've disliked those scumbags from the Brave Companions for a long time! Why didn't you think of me when you acted? Why didn't you call me!" His tone was full of regret, as if he had missed a grand celebration. "That kind of fight is satisfying! That's what really makes blood boil!"
Eddard Stark beside him wore a gentle, steady smile. He chimed in, a trace of imperceptible teasing in his tone, "Their bodies were just buried in the earth, and 'The Flames of the Arbor' played over the same ground. When it comes to building momentum, truly no one compares to you, Euron."
Euron chuckled, cleverly changing the subject. "In such a festive moment, isn't discussing killing and fighting a bit of a mood killer?"
He raised his hand elegantly, pointing to the noisiest and brightest area at the other end of the hall. That seemed to be the magnetic center of the entire banquet, gathering the most young and active figures, laughter almost drowning out the musicians' performance.
In this luxurious ball, those highborn, bright, and moving noble maidens were undoubtedly the brightest stars, attracting countless gazes of admiration and jealousy.
The most eye-catching among the crowd were Whent's daughter (likely referring to the reigning Queen of Love and Beauty from the previous or current context, though canonically Rhaegar crowns Lyanna later; here maybe referring to the Whent daughter as the current hostess/figurehead), crowned as the Queen of Love and Beauty, green and lovely; Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne, radiating fire-like passion and uninhibitedness; Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall, whose beauty and swordsmanship were equally renowned; Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock, blonde and blue-eyed, peerlessly beautiful with innate pride; Lyanna Stark of the North, pure within her wildness, like a forest spirit; Lynesse Hightower of Oldtown, elegant and learned with extraordinary conversation; and Catelyn Tully of the Riverlands, gentle and dignified, like deep, quiet waters.
Ashara Dayne stood like a quiet lotus amidst the noise. To every young noble who came to ask for a dance, she responded with an elegant and firm smile, declining in a clear yet gentle voice: "Thank you for your kindness, but my partner is already destined—my fiancé is Euron Greyjoy."
Not far away, Catelyn Tully responded to the surrounding enthusiasm with equal solemnity and sincerity. Her gaze was calm, her tone gentle but unquestionable. "Thank you for the invitation, but I am betrothed to Brandon Stark." After that, she said little more, that quiet determination deterring other eager suitors.
Just then, Euron walked through the crowd straight to Ashara. Ignoring the surrounding gazes of curiosity, envy, or scrutiny, he stopped before her, bowed slightly, then extended his hand—an invitation that brooked no refusal.
Under the gaze of countless envious or probing eyes, Ashara smiled and placed her hand gently into Euron's palm. He held it firmly, leading her into the center of the brilliant dance floor. Melodious music flowed like silk as they danced gracefully. Their figures turned elegantly under the swaying candlelight, as if the bustling prosperity of the entire noisy hall had faded, leaving only them as the clear focus, becoming the most eye-catching couple of the night.
This scene deeply stimulated Robert on the sidelines. He downed a large mouthful of wine, slammed the cup heavily on the table, and shouted with drunkenness and dissatisfaction, "No! I'm going to find my Lyanna too!" With that, he actually turned and left, unhesitatingly leaving Eddard alone on the spot.
Eddard Stark watched his friend's retreating figure, speechless for a moment, left standing helplessly. "..."
It's very lively here, but it seems to have nothing to do with me.
At this moment, Brandon Stark had just finished a dance with his fiancée Catelyn Tully. He walked to his brother, nudged the wooden-stake-like Eddard with his elbow, jerked his chin toward a dazzling figure in the dance floor, and whispered, "Don't just stand here stupidly. Look over there, Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne. Like a thorny, beautiful rose in the desert, passionate as fire. Go invite her for a dance."
Eddard looked in that direction, then shook his head slowly but firmly.
That princess was indeed astonishingly beautiful, radiating light like the blazing sun of high summer. But she was too enchanting, too passionate and uninhibited. Every look seemed like an invitation, causing countless men to fall for her, longing for something to happen with her.
She was indeed the most jubilant existence on the dance floor, changing partners one after another, her laughter crisp as silver bells. However, this dazzling brilliance did not suit his quiet, introverted character.
Only Arianne herself knew clearly that she had absolutely no interest in these attentive men around her. Her laughter might be loud, but a detachment always remained at the bottom of her eyes. Her gaze would always, in inadvertent turns, glance at Ashara dancing with Euron.
But that envious gaze always flashed by and was retracted quickly.
Euron was already Ashara's fiancé. Their figures dancing side by side looked so harmonious and matching.
Arianne's fingertips unconsciously rubbed the rim of her wine cup, a trace of imperceptible loneliness quietly sweeping across her heart. She once... seemed to have had a chance, but now, everything has been missed.
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