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Summary
Willem stands his ground, glaring at the older boy. “I am the only one here who hasn’t sought to drag her away from her home and holdings. Do you suppose that our future queen would want to reside in some far corner of this continent, away from her lord father and the people who will form her immediate subjects? She is the Princess of Dragonstone, you craven, she must be on Dragonstone.”
“Oh yes,” the princess whispers to Lord Boremund, “I rather like him.”
Without waiting for the inevitable snide reply, Willem turns on his heel and bows deeply to his future monarch. “Princess, I thank you for your consideration, and hope that whomever you choose as your bridegroom, he brings you much happiness, and the honor your station deserves.”
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In another life, young Willem Blackwood was quicker with his words than his sword, and Rhaenyra did everything right in her marriage, but the stage was set long before they ever met. The notes are different, the tempo’s changed, and the players have taken new positions, but no matter the music, the dragons have no choice but to dance.