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"There are plenty of strong young men on the dance floor, plenty worthy of your hand," Viserys spoke first, his hands clasped together as he stood between his brother and eldest daughter, "Why do you stand at the sidelines for so long?"
The three dragons stood together, staring out at the dancers ahead of them. It was rather fitting, one would think, for Daemon to be on one side of Viserys and Naenya to be on the other. It resembled the evil that sat upon one shoulder of a King and the good that sat upon the other. However, when it came to Targaryens, each side held at least a sliver of wicked insanity.
"I'm figuring out my future with each suitor," Naenya said simply, gesturing towards Aaron Greyjoy, "He's took rough with the ladies he dances with, pulling them this way and that, I can imagine that trait carrys beyond the dance floor,"
The three dragons watched Aaron Greyjoy closely. The hand placed on the woman's waist was tight, the fabric of her dress ruffled at his fingers. It was a lady of House Bolton, her dress pure black with whispers of red that seemed to give off impressions of blood spatter around her arms and shoulders. The lady allowed herself to be pulled and positioned like a doll though her head was held high as though she were the one making the movements. Much like the Bolton men, Bolton women were not easily shaken by others.
"Laenor Velaryon would be a respectful match," Viserys said, glancing towards the young boy, "And it would bond us even further to House Velaryon and their fleet,"
"I need to secure undying support from a Gret House that isn't already fully tied to us," Naenya shook her head, watching the boy blush as a Tyrell lord offered him wine, "Laenor Velaryon may be better suited with Rhaenyra. It would bring us closer while still getting another House in line,"
"My my, my. My dear niece sounds like one of those annoying lords on your council, Viserys," Daemon smirked, taking a goblet of wine out of a passing Lords hands, "You best put her under my tutelage so I can iron out those boring creases,"
Naenya let out a small laugh which she covered with a cough, giving her uncle a sneaky side smile.
"Well, there are plenty of young Lords for your choosing," Viserys began, quickly getting cut of by Daemon's quick wit.
"Yes, plenty of young men just waiting for their fathers to die so they can become Lord of their house," Daemon grinned, watching the crowd of dancers lazily, "Jason Lannister, Elden Baratheon, Garret Tyrell-"
"There is Ormund Hightower as well," Viserys added, glancing over at the Hightower boy who was speaking with his uncle Otto.
"I am sure he is a sweet man," Naenya said, rolling her eyes at her fathers affinity for the Hightowers, "But his house isn't a Great House,"
"There's Wren Arryn?" Daemon brought up, pointing his goblet towards the boy, "You could mold him easily to whatever you needed,"
The three dragons turned their attentions to the Arryn boy. He was younger than Rhaenyra by three years, still in the mould of his childhood. Wren was on the dance floor with his mother, too young for any Lady looking for a suitor to consider.
