* 🏵️ — the queen ' s ballroom shimmered with light — gold and crimson, candlefire caught in glass and silk. the scent of incense , and beeswax , and beeswax , and wine heavy . soft violet silk clung close , the hue of twilight after rain . the tailors had called him jonquil when they fastened the last of the blossoms in his hair — a crown of pale flowers threaded through brown curls , trembling faintly as he turned his head . his mask was silver filigree , delicate as frost , hiding only what he wished hidden .
it was a game , this dance of glances . elinor had leaned close a moment before , his laughter light as bells behind his fan . “ he ’ s staring , ” she ’ d whispered , eyes alight with mischief . “ the one in the dark mask — gods , cousin , he ’ s coming . ” margaeran had smiled — just a small , knowing curve of his mouth . let him .
the man who came toward him was tall , shoulders broad and back straight , his mask dark . there was something northern about him — in the way he carries himself . in the set of his jaw , when he speaks , he hears it . his voice was quiet , low . definitely northern . yet , when he takes his hand , the northman is careful . almost reverent . then his lips brush the back of his knuckles , and for a heartbeat the noise of the hall seemed to dim .
“ luck ? ” margaeran tilted his head , eyes glinting behind his mask . when he spoke , his voice was soft , amused . he let his gaze linger — long enough to feel the space between them tighten — before he drew his hand back , just so . “ my lord , i hear she ’ s a fickle maid . ”
“ but , ” a pause . a flicker of a smile . the faintest tilt of his chin , as if considering whether to grant a secret . he murmured at last , the words brushed in honey and mischief . “ perhaps she favors the bold tonight . ”
"I've flirted with luck plenty of times before. Thankfully she has always been generous." Robb didn't consider his victories thus far as a result of luck. He had earned every single one of them, earning both the favor and respect of his subjects as a result. All he needed now was a profitable marriage, something his mother had considered plenty of times over. Love was the last thing upon his mind. Robb had much more pressing matters to worry over than trivial things like weddings. Though if his future bride was as stunning as the vision before him he might reconsider. "Though we will see if she continues to offer me her favor or if she'll leave me floundering. Only time will tell." Robb allows the maiden to pull away, using that moment to stand up straight. He glances at the retinue of ladies surrounding Margaeran before returning his eyes to their lady. "May I ask you for this dance?" Once again his hand is extended while a charming smile dances upon his lips. Fortune favored the bold, and Robb had very little to lose. His mask would hide his embarrassment if this beauty denied him outright.











