The music of the feast echoed through the great hall of Harrenhal, a blend of lute strings and soft flutes as the torches flickered in the high chambers. Eddara Stark stood near the wall, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her grey eyes flickering nervously around the crowded room. The laughter and chatter of noblemen and women filled the air, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her gaze was fixed on the dashing Dornish lord, Asharon Dayne, who danced with various ladies with effortless grace, his haunting violet eyes and striking black hair catching the light.

Eddara's heart pounded in her chest. She had dreamed of this moment—the moment she could ask him to dance—but her fear held her back. She was "The Quiet Wolf" after all, reserved and nervous, always the one watching from the sidelines, never the one dancing.

Brandon, her older brother, stood beside her, noting her discomfort. With a warm smile, he leaned in and whispered, "You want to dance with him, don't you?"

Eddara flushed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I couldn't. He's already dancing with everyone else."

Brandon chuckled, his tone teasing but kind. "You don't get anywhere by standing here, sister." He nodded toward Asharon, who was currently twirling a noblewoman in his arms. "If you don’t ask, I’ll have to do it for you."

Eddara stiffened, her hands fidgeting nervously. She felt embarrassed at needing help to ask him to dance. "Please, don’t. I can’t..."

"Trust me," Brandon said with a grin. "He’s not going to bite."

Before she could protest again Brandon walked up to Asharon, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he spoke briefly with the Dornish lord. Moments later, Asharon’s gaze shifted toward Eddara, his lips curving into a warm smile. Eddara’s heart skipped a beat.

As Asharon approached her, her nerves flared. She wanted to speak, to say something witty, but all that escaped her was a soft breath as she glanced up at him from under her lashes.