There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
First day of the fighting season, and Rhaenar knew how important it was to make an appearance before the people of Meereen, even if there weren't to be many there. It was her first time indulging in such a tradition, of fully immersing herself the way she should, and she couldn't be more excited, although, there had been backlash for pushing it back further than it would have been - simply due to the simmering tensions between the High born and the Low born of the city.
However, from her display in front of the Great Families, she had found that the tenseness that had washed over the city had relaxed slightly, and they were beginning to become more civil with one another. That, or it was the lingering presence of three dragons in the city that forced them to remain easy in fear of what they could do. Rhaenar felt at ease with them being in the sky, using the pyramids to perch themselves before descending back into the base of the pyramid to sleep or to store food.
"Tell me why we're here again, Hizdahr; you've dragged me all the way out here." And here was far from her own pyramid. Oberyn smirked at Rhaenar's words, sauntering beside her in his turned up boots.
"For generations in the days leading up to the great games, it has been customary for our ruler to make the rounds of the lower pits to pay the fighters there the honour of her presence." She hummed, nodding her head before following after him to a small selection of seats. The turnout wasn't large like she had anticipated, some high borns stood to watch, but no one was cramming the stands. Then again, it was one of many pits opening today.
"And a way to make quick money if they are good at it. Sellswords always look for the victorious." Oberyn said, his eyes flickering over those around them. Mero had made his way like that, as had Daario; and she was sure that if she asked some of the others within the Second Sons and the Golden Company, they would have said the same.
The Unsullied surrounded them as they moved underneath a small covering, a little bench for Hizdahr and herself to sit up. "Are you sure the fighters want my honour?" She questioned as they sat, her hands smoothing along the white dress.
"Your honour, the people's honour. It all gives them a chance at glory." Rhaenar nodded, pursing her lips for a moment. It was the perfect day for it, one of the rare days where the clouds hung heavy in the sky, masking the sun from view. It wasn't hot, but the wind didn't nip at their skin.
The pit itself was small in size, some weapons to the side, and stone around the floor to mark the arena. "How many are expected to fight in these things?" She asked, wondering just how many dreamed of having the honour.
