The Song of Ice and Fire

The Tourney

After the grand celebration, the King orchestrated a festival and tournament, men engaged in fierce combat, seeking to win not only Laenys's favor but also to charm the King and, notably, Princess Rhaenys. On the other hand, women adorned in their finest robes batted their lashes, attempting to capture the elusive attention of Aemond, who, of course, appeared disinterested in the spectacle.

The tournament drew a vast crowd from the seven kingdoms, assembled in rows within a grand arena. The King, along with his children and wife, occupied a designated spot in the shaded risers, comfortable chairs at their disposal. Rhaenrya, too, was present with her husband and children, observing the unfolding drama.

Cheers erupted as lords in impeccably tailored armor showcased their equestrian prowess, except for Cregan Stark, who remained true to his Northern roots. He dressed simply, prioritizing the pursuit of alliances over flashy displays of swordsmanship.

Amidst the buzzing energy of the crowd, Alicent, the Queen, watched with a bored expression. Her father, Otto Hightower, stood behind her, and she shot him an annoyed glance. "She's late," she remarked sharply.

"I am sure she will arrive soon. We have the entire tournament, Alicent," the King responded, coughing into a white cloth. Rhaenrya expressed concern, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Have the maesters tried to soothe your cough, your Grace?" Rhaenrya inquired. Alicent responded with a hint of condescension, revealing the limits of their efforts. "We have given him many tonics and remedies, but we do not prevail. We can only pray to the Seven for his fast recovery," she said. Rhaenrya looked puzzled, muttering to herself about "The Seven," prompting a knowing exchange of glances between Laenor and Rhaenrya.

Suddenly, three of Lord Borris Baratheon's daughters nervously approached the royal risers, bowing deeply. None of them seemed to Lady Ellyn. With giggles echoing from their ranks, they addressed the King.

"Y-your grace."

"My King."

"Your Grace, the King."

They presented themselves humbly, offering their submission to Prince Aemond. "We humbly present ourselves to your son, the Prince Aemond Targaryen. We would offer many different allies, and if he shall choose one of us, we would bear many strong Targaryen children if he so wishes it. We would swear complete submission unto the prince." One of the eldest daughters spoke, still bowing before them all. Aemond nearly cringed at their words, having a wife just to be swollen with his child and obedient to his every will. Where's the excitement in that? What if he didn't want children? Their words, however, carried a tone of obedience that made Aemond cringe. The prospect of a wife solely to bear children and submit to his every whim left him disenchanted. Rolling his eyes, he looked away, seeking something more than a predictable alliance.

He also seemed to be stuck thinking about the slight but noticeable gesture his cousin had given him only yesterday. His hand still seemed to burn even though it hadn't touched fire. His leg bounced with anticipation, why was it that her very skin turned him into flames?

"We appreciate the considerable effort you and Lord Baratheon must've put into traveling to Kingslanding. We will take your proposal into great consideration," the Queen, Alicent Hightower, said, offering them a genuine smile. They arose from their kneeling position, smiling shyly. "Are we to sit here and review women? If so, thank the Gods..." Aegon muttered before his mother quickly hushed him.

Suddenly, two large shadows cast on and off them, prompting them to look up at the sky. Aemond's gaze followed suit, and a sharp shriek filled the air, silencing the cheers of the crowd. Two dragons soared through the skies – Princess Rhaenys's dragon, Meleys, and Zafira, a tad smaller but still formidable. Laenys rode Zafira in her dragon-riding attire, forgoing a dress.