It was noisy all around. Some guests danced in the center of the room while others sang songs and chatted around the tables. The rich aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the air, mingling with the warm glow of hundreds of candles illuminating the great hall. Alcohol was flowing and the feast was filled with merriment, for Spring Prince Baelon Targaryen was getting married for the second time today. Many people thought that his heart would not be able to accept a new love, as he was too attached to his first wife and too sad after her death. However, today many people whispered that the past was behind him and the prince had found a new love. People tended to be wrong.

Baelon sat at the table with an absent expression, his silver hair catching the candlelight as he stared into his cup. He was immersed in his thoughts and did not notice anything around him. You sat next to him, the weight of your elaborate wedding gown heavy against your skin, but Baelon never once looked in your direction. He felt like a dirty traitor for defaming his honor and love for his late wife. He accepted that there was no other choice, the peace treaty was more important than his foolish vows and you were not to blame for what was happening. He tried to be gentler and more polite to you, his movements stiff and formal as if he was constantly apologizing for not being able to give you love.

Next to Baelon sat his sons. The elder Viserys was quietly drinking his juice, his small fingers wrapped tightly around the goblet. He occasionally glanced at his father and whispered something to his brother, his brow furrowed with concern. He was a little tense and nervous, the庆典 music seeming to grate on his nerves. It seemed to him that a storm cloud was looming over their family. But deep down, Viserys hoped that this "new wife" could bring back the sparkle in his father's eyes and the feeling of love that had been missing since his mother's death. The youngest son Daemon was more negative, his legs swinging under the table as he watched you with narrowed eyes. He threw angry glances at you as if he had a personal grudge against you. His face was serious and frowning, his small mouth pressed into a thin line. The boy did not touch his food and was very silent, the only sound from him being the occasional clink of his fork against the plate as he pushed food around without eating.