THE NIGHT | arthur dayne

Chapter 4

Jorelle sat in her room, Laina braiding her hair. The first round of the tournament was this morning and Jorelle had to look her best. But her mind wasn't on the tourney.

She hadn't slept at all that night and she was exhausted. She couldn't stop thinking about the sorceress from yesterday. As much as she tried to convince herself it wasn't true, she couldn't help but worry. It didn't help that Melara had drowned that night.

Cersei had come to her long after dark to tell her, and Jorelle couldn't help but think that the old witch was right. Maybe she truly could see into the morrow.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind today," Laina said as she moved to the other side of Jorelle's head. "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing," Jorelle replied. She couldn't tell Laina. This was the one and only thing she couldn't tell her loyal confidant. Her heart broke. "If there was something wrong, you know I would tell you."

"I know," Laina replied. Jorelle couldn't help but think that Laina knew too much. One wrong move and the handmaiden could spill all the Lannister secrets. It was too late now though. Laina already knew everything so why hold back.

But this was different. Maybe Melara was right, if they don't talk about it, it won't happen. But as far as Jorelle knew, none of them had spoken about Melara's fortune and that still came true. So maybe there was nothing they could do.

But she still wouldn't tell her. It was better to be safe.

"There. Do you like it?" Laina asked, stepping away. Jorelle looked in the mirror and smiled.

"I always do," Jorelle replied. "Help me with my dress?"

Jorelle walked over to her bed, the new dress draped over it. Her father had sent for new dresses for both his daughters in honor of the tournament.

Cersei's dress was styled more like those of the Targaryens. It was Targaryen red with an asymmetrical neckline. It still had her signature billowing sleeves that all her dresses had.

Jorelle's dress lacked any Targaryen influence. It was Lannister red, a different shade than Targaryen red, with gold embroidery along the lining. It had short sleeves of expensive silks and a neckline of jewels from the Free Cities. Although the dress looked delicate and flowy, it was really heavy and flowed onto the floor as if there was a baby wrapped around her legs.

She sucked in a breath as Laina tied the ribbon in the back.

"I think it's the most beautiful dress you've ever worn," Laina said. Jorelle smiled. Laina's approval meant more to her than anyone else's, except her father.

"I hope it helps me catch a husband," Jorelle said, the words of the witch echoing in her head. There will be no husband for you. It didn't matter if she was right or not, Jorelle was still going to try.

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The Lannisters sat on their platform of honor next to the King, with the best view of the tilts. Jorelle sat between Cersei and Tyrion, who had surprisingly been allowed out to see the jousts. Although the young boy was the target of many jests by commoners and lords alike, everyone at the tourney knew that Tywin Lannister would have their head if he heard them talk poorly of his son.

The row in front of them had Alara and Jeyne, with an empty seat that would have been Melara's.

The first rounds were between newly knighted men, so the crowd wasn't very excited. They took to talking to pass the time until the real knights showed up.

Jorelle sat silently, listening to the muffled whispers of the crowds as the next knight lined up. Since yesterday, all Alara wanted to know was what the witch had said, but Jorelle refused to tell her. Jorelle avoided talking to Alara to prevent having to lie to her.

Alara didn't seem to mind. She was too caught up in the events. It was her first tournament and her eyes were wide with curiosity as each new knight mounted his horse.

Jorelle longed to go back to when she was a child at her first tournament. She was so young then, she barely remembered. She only recalled a faint image of sitting with her family on the highest platform. Now, her father sat with the King and Jorelle was below them.

Booming screams began to echo through Lannisport when Prince Rhaegar rode in. His helmet covered his face, but everyone knew it was him from the silver hair that peeked out. Jorelle thought they screamed loudly early in the day when her father arrived, but that was nothing compared to the screams for the Dragon Prince.

He waved a hand to to the crowd to acknowledge them as he rode up to his first opponent.

Rhaegar bested a dozen knights, including Jorelle's uncles, Gerion and Tygett Lannister. They weren't very skilled anyway, so Jorelle wasn't surprised.

Rhaegar was declared the champion of the first rounds and everyone got out of their seats for the break.

Jorelle stood, rubbing her hands down her dress to flatten out the wrinkles that formed while she sat. She looked up as Cersei turned to her.

"He's very gallant," she said. There was a twinkle of innocence in her eye that Jorelle hadn't seen in Cersei in a long time.

"There's nothing gallant about a joust," Jorelle said. Cersei scowled. "But he was very skilled."

Jorelle picked up her skirt slightly off the ground to stop it from dragging in the dirt as she walked down from the platform and out of the arena.

She walked down the path, feeling the cool breeze blowing against her arm.

"What's a lady like yourself doing out here alone?" A voice asked from behind her. She turned around, a bit startled. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I was alone until you showed up, your grace," Jorelle replied. Rhaegar smiled. "But now I have the champion here to accompany me."

"Oh please don't remind me," he said. Jorelle tilted her head. "I always win and I don't know if it's because I'm good or if the other men are too afraid to hurt me."

"Maybe it's both," Jorelle replied. He nodded. "You know, there are many stories about you. I thought you would be different than you are."

For what he lacked in appearance, he made up for in personality. Jorelle was skilled at false pleasantries and Rhaegar must have been either an expert or truly genuine. Jorelle couldn't remember the last time she had a conversation with anyone, besides Alara and Laina, in which they weren't trying to get something from her.

Her father always told her that no one in King's Landing can be trusted. That they're backstabbing and selfish, but Rhaegar didn't seem that way. Not that she would ever trust him, though, she knew better than that. He just didn't seem at all like what she expected.

"There are many stories about you. Some say you're a witch. I haven't gotten that impression," he laughed. Jorelle smiled.

He seemed to like her. Perhaps she had made a friend. He was kind, too kind, and she could use that to her advantage.