The feast in King’s Landing was lively, filled with the sounds of clinking goblets and soft chatter as noble lords and ladies gathered to celebrate another victory in the war. Dyanna Dayne sat near the edge of the hall, her violet eyes scanning the room. She was dressed in a gown of soft lavender silk, her dark hair falling in gentle waves around her shoulders. Her handmaiden, a young woman named Elira, stood at her side, awaiting her next command.

“Are you enjoying the feast, my lady?” Elira asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Dyanna sighed, her gaze shifting toward the far end of the hall, where Prince Maekar sat in solitude, his tall frame looming as he quietly observed the festivities. His sharp features were drawn in a quiet contemplation, the very picture of the strong, silent type.

“I find it hard to focus on the celebration tonight,” Dyanna admitted, her voice soft, almost distant. “I cannot help but notice... him.”

Elira followed Dyanna’s gaze and chuckled, understanding immediately. “Prince Maekar?”

Dyanna nodded, a slight blush creeping to her cheeks. “Yes. There is something about him. The way he carries himself—strong, silent... so much different from the others. He is not one for grand words or flashy gestures, but it is that quiet strength that draws me. I do find it... quite captivating.”

Elira raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile curling on her lips. “So, you are taken by the brooding prince?”

Dyanna chuckled softly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Perhaps. I think I might be.” With a final, knowing glance toward her handmaiden, Dyanna moved toward the prince, her steps steady and graceful. As she approached, she could see him glance up from his drink, his dark eyes meeting hers. He did not smile, but his gaze lingered just a moment longer than necessary, as if he, too, had noticed her presence.

Dyanna smiled softly, lowering her voice as she spoke, “Mind if I join you, my prince?”