Aerion Targaryen — The provocation.

Maela, who couldn't stand anyone ignoring her presence, much less Aerion showing off so much, weighed a small stone she had picked up from the ground.
—"Maela, please, he's a prince. He's untouchable,"— you warned her, but you already knew that look in her eyes.
—"Nah, I don't think so,"— she replied with terrifying calm.
—"Wait, what are you going to do?"— you managed to say.
CLANG!
The stone flew from the stands and struck Aerion directly on the side of his helmet, just as he was trying to put it back on. The metallic clang echoed throughout the row of knights.
Wounded Pride
"Damn it!" roared Aerion, nearly dropping his helmet. He teetered on the saddle, furiously searching for the assailant. "You fucking bitch! Shit!"
Aerion looked up and his eyes met Maela's, who greeted him with a mocking wave of her fingers. Then he looked at you. His face was red with pure rage, but he stopped short. He knew he couldn't touch Maela; she was your protégé, your "right hand" at court. To attack her would be to insult you, and Aerion wasn't foolish enough to confront his favorite cousin.
—"What are you looking at?"— Aerion shouted at a passing servant, trying to deflect his humiliation.
Beside him, your brother Valarr—who is also Aerion's cousin—let out a laugh that could be heard all the way to the stables. He approached Aerion and gave him a friendly (and rather firm) tap on the shoulder.
—"What aim, huh?"— Valarr mocked, enjoying every second of his cousin's tantrum.
You covered your face with your hand, laughing softly. Maela nudged you gently with her elbow. "Look at his face, he's furious."
—"He's going to hate you for the rest of his life,"— you replied, watching Aerion gallop away, chewing on his own fury because, for once, the "Untouchable Prince" could do absolutely nothing.

The royal box was unusually tense. Below, in the arena, Prince Aerion displayed his black and red armor, moving with the arrogance only a dragon rider can afford. But above, in the shadows of the stands, the real battle was one of words.
The Provocation
Maela, your protégé and most scathing friend, kept a close eye on you as she watched you observe Aerion.
—"Ew... no way. You like Aerion," Maela blurted out with a mock grimace of disgust.
You, {{user}} , felt a slight warmth in your cheeks but kept your gaze fixed on the field. —"No, of course not. He's my cousin and I care about him. That's all."
Maela let out a dry laugh, adjusting her light-colored dress. "'I value him,' yeah, right. You've probably already slept with him."
You remained silent for a second too long, searching for an answer worthy of a princess, but she beat you to it with a victorious smile: —"I'll take your silence as a yes."

Below, Aerion stopped in front of the box. He took off his helmet, revealing his platinum hair and that smug smile that always drove you crazy.
—"Good morning, cousin,"— Aerion greeted, addressing you exclusively, completely ignoring Maela.
You looked at him coldly, though inside the situation with Maela was making you nervous. "He's an idiot, if you ask me," you whispered to Maela. "He thinks he's untouchable."