Quellon Greyjoy followed Euron's gaze, slightly surprised: "Ashara Dayne? She is indeed beautiful, but House Dayne..."
"Having a brother like Ser Arthur Dayne, a character of noble virtue and legendary status," Euron interrupted him, tone decisive, "Lady Ashara naturally inherits the same character and sentiments from her brother. Noble but not ostentatious, gentle but not weak. She is like... a quiet deep lake, not a turbulent wave. The latter can plunder, but the former can nourish and carry." His words revealed a prudence and consideration beyond his age, viewing Ashara as a more stable, long-term investment for an ally and partner.
Quellon pondered for a moment, eyes flashing as he seemed to rapidly weigh the benefits and risks behind the two choices. Finally, he nodded: "House Dayne holds esteemed status in Dorne and has close relations with the royal family. Ser Arthur is even the one who knighted Jaime Lannister... Good, I will sound them out."
Quellon Greyjoy walked straight towards the "Sword of the Morning" Arthur Dayne, who was conversing with several Dornish lords. The two patriarchs formally met and walked aside to a secluded colonnade to talk in low voices.
Sunlight filtered through colored windows, casting dappled shadows on them. Euron saw Ser Arthur listening to his father Quellon, expression first slightly surprised, then becoming serious and earnest as they exchanged opinions quietly.
Meanwhile, Euron didn't stand still waiting. He walked naturally to Ashara Dayne, bowing slightly to extend an invitation: "Lady Ashara, the solemnity of the ceremony here is breathtaking. Might I have the honor of inviting you for a walk to the harbor? It's said the fleet of Lannisport is second only to King's Landing; the sea breeze might bring more relaxed topics."
Ashara seemed somewhat surprised, but good breeding allowed her to recover composure quickly. She glanced at her brother still talking seriously with Quellon, nodded lightly, and placed her hand gently on Euron's extended arm.
The two walked side by side down the castle slope to the noisy harbor. Salty sea breeze brushed their faces, bringing scents of ship timber, tar, and distant cargo, starkly different from the luxurious atmosphere inside the castle.
They strolled along the breakwater, chatting about trivial topics—seabirds, ship styles, Dorne's deserts, and the Iron Islands' waves. Euron put away his usual perverseness and indifference, behaving like a knowledgeable, slightly melancholy noble youth. Ashara didn't speak much, but her voice was gentle, demeanor elegant. Occasionally, when talking about Starfall and her brother, genuine emotion would flow from her eyes.
Ashara asked about Euron's three-year journey across the Narrow Sea. When Euron talked about that adventure, hearing of those magical sights, she exclaimed occasionally, her amethyst eyes full of curiosity for the unknown and admiration for Euron's courage.
This walk wasn't overflowing with passion, yet a tacit calmness flowed between them. Euron's eyes occasionally fell on her quiet profile, assessing, but also carrying a trace of genuine satisfaction.
When they returned from the walk, Quellon and Arthur's conversation just ended. Ser Arthur Dayne walked to his sister, looked at Euron with a complex gaze, then nodded lightly to Ashara.
Quellon walked to Euron's side, voice pressed extremely low but carrying a trace of satisfaction from closing a deal: "House Dayne agreed. Ser Arthur acknowledges your... potential, and also believes this is a suitable marriage alliance. But Lady Ashara is still young; House Dayne wishes to keep her for three more years."
Euron looked towards Arthur and Ashara. Ashara blushed slightly, avoiding his gaze, but showed no unwillingness.
"Of course, neither of us is of age yet." A genuine, though still hidden, smile finally curled Euron's lips. "Three years later, I will go to Starfall to marry my bride."
This grand gathering, masterminded by Tywin Lannister and bringing together almost all of Westeros' future powerholders, meant far more than a knighting ceremony. It was more like a meticulously set chessboard, and marriage alliances were the most important and powerful moves on the board. Besides the betrothal of Euron Greyjoy and Ashara Dayne—unexpected by many but settled in secret—the air was filled with more overt or covert probing and tacit agreements.
Invisible threads were quietly woven amidst the clinking of glasses and seemingly casual strolls.
Where gazes met, family elders were silently assessing and weighing; behind the laughter of young men and women, cornerstones of future alliances were often being laid. Many marriage intentions, large or small, sprouted in this grand event, fragile like tender shoots in early spring but full of possibilities.
However, what flowers these marriages based on current political interests would bloom into, whether they would bear sweet or bitter fruit, nourish towering trees or breed poisonous thorns... all this could only be left for cruel time and changing politics to tell.
Tywin Lannister's gaze never left his chessboard. For his heir, the radiant Jaime, he had selected a partner he deemed most secure and effective for connecting with Riverlands power—the youngest daughter of House Tully, Lysa Tully.
Though her temperament wasn't as steady as her sister Catelyn's, House Tully's prestige and Riverrun's strategic location were enough to compensate. This engagement was almost set with the tacit consent of both parents, awaiting only the right time for formal announcement.
However, even the calculating Duke Tywin encountered a small resistance from within the family.
His daughter, Cersei Lannister, possessed beauty enough to topple the Seven Kingdoms and matching Lannister arrogance. Her gaze swept over all the young talents in the venue—the martial Robert? In her eyes, just a drunken brute; the steady Eddard? The North's bitter cold and silence made her dismissive; even Euron who just defeated her brother? A second son from the Iron Islands, plus those heterochromatic eyes she didn't want to see, didn't enter her sight... She mocked every suitor, heart burning with a twisted possessiveness for her brother Jaime and desire for the pinnacle of power, believing no one was truly worthy of her.
Tywin sensed his daughter's resistance. His cold gaze lingered on her for a moment, weighing the benefits and risks of forcing an order.
But ultimately, he chose not to force it for now. Not out of doting, but out of absolute, value-based calm judgment. Cersei's beauty and the Lannister name were unquestionably top-tier chips, like the most dazzling gold in the treasury, rare commodities worth hoarding, not to be sold cheaply in haste here and now. He believed that given time, this chip could exchange for greater, more critical benefits.
Thus, in this feast that achieved many alliances, Cersei Lannister watched everything coldly like a proud and lonely golden phoenix. She belonged to no suitor yet. Her future, in her own woven fantasies and her father's cold plots, remained a puzzle waiting to be written.
In addition, the high-level decision-makers settled many secret matters. Those covert alliances and trades would surface one by one in the future; for now, they only fermented in the dark.