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𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒 had joined peonies, lilacs, hydrangeas and many more types of flowers in their rainbow schemes as they decorated The Sept's great hall.
Girls were busy bouncing off petals all over the place and the boys were pre occupied throwing around one of the flower crowns they had stollen from an unfourtenate girl until it landed on the head of the statue of the Stranger, earning a scolding from the High Septon.
Servants had atempted to diverge the on-coming stampede of children as they threw rugs around to atempt to make the already grand space, seem even nicer and their efforts were ardently in vain as the younglings continously moved the carpets on the ground, setting them off place.
"Get them in line." Sighed Lucerys to one of the servants, scurrying him off to calm the kids down.
A quill and parchemnt were making sounds as Queen Rhaella approached him with a frown, asking him about some type of flowers that weren't in the space.
The head of the Velaryons felt the sigh escape his lips again, the grittiness of the situation earning his nerves to poll around his head.
His fingers began to massage his temples as he flickered a sight to his son whose form was draped in an aray of regalia clothing of various shades of turquoise, cyan and teal with gleaming gold adornments.
Jacaerys was too busy glaring at someone and rather curiously, Prince Rhaegar had sat down on the steps next to him.
The Velaryon didn't state anything and instead remained silent at the presence of the young dragon by him, a preferably beguiling sight to viewers such as Lucerys.
Rhaegar leaned his back to the steps above, offering the goblet of wine to the other.
Jacaerys faced him, taking the chalice and sipping on it as he continued scowling ahead, both of their eyes no longer louring at one another in an atempt not to jab the nearest incence stick into the other's eyeball.
The Prince finally trailed his sight to where the Velaryon was gawking at so profusely, before the same feeling of vexation came over him.
Tall and muscular but lean to the eyes with alluring looks described the brown haired knight they were scrutinising so badly.
"There's the Nothern cunt again." Jacaerys spat.
Rhaegar hummed. "On that much we can agree."
The knight in view, Aaron Ryswell, was a noble, but not of a great enough house to be relevant for the pair. Besides the fact he was a Northman and hardly enjoyed by any person from the South of Westeros.
