Monsters of The North || Rhaenyra Targaryen

Chapter 1

Over the course of Torrhen's first month in King's Landing, he quickly became more and more mesmerised by the fiery Princess. The women in the North, no doubt fearless and strong-willed, were nothing compared to how Torrhen found the Princess. She was smart, though she hated the lessons by the Septa's. She had a quick wit, always having something to fire back with. Torrhen found himself enjoying her company, when she would ask questions about the North or the Old gods and their way of life. She quickly became his only friend.

Sometimes, when Rhaenyra would ask him to join her in the gods woods, she would bring Lady Alicent Hightower with her. Torrhen had nothing against the girl. She was quiet and shy, the epitome of a proper Lady, proper and polite. But, Torrhen has never held any love for the Hightowers, the ones so devout in the faith of the seven. They were so pious, and rejected any claims of any other gods. Torrhen refrained from talking about the Old Gods in her presence, whether it was out of respect or just a need not to hear her rave about the Seven, he didn't know. Either way, the two barely connected with the other.

As of right now, Torrhen was in his chambers getting dressed. The tourney for the new heir would be commencing within the next few days, and Torrhen was preparing to go out to the training yards to well... train. His father was adamant he compete in the tourney, gain a few people's eyes of attention. His uncle was unbothered, he cared not for tourney's or melee's. He had seen real battle, not men fucking around with sticks and shields, trying to knock the other down.

Making his way down to the training yard, he caught sight of a carriage returning from the dragon pit. He smirked slightly. The Princess was back from her flight.

Rhaenyra had offered for him to meet Syrax, but he had politely refused. There was little that scared Torrhen, after all, he had fought against wildings seeking to kill him. He grew up on stories of the Others, that once scared him so bad, he had clung to his aunt's skirt as she laughed at his childish fear. But... a dragon. A giant, fire breathing, animal that could swallow a goat whole? Now that, that ignited a sliver of fear in him.

The Princess had laughed at the time, and continued to try and convince him to join her. Each time, he refused. Maybe one day, he would work up the courage, but today was not that day.

Reaching the training yard, Torrhen shed his outer layer of clothing, leaving him in just a simple tunic and breaches. He unsheathed his sword, and started going through the motions his uncle had taught him. His muscles recognised the familiar strokes and blocks he practised, his arms tensing and relaxing with each swing. He continued the motions for he doesn't know how long, his arms becoming sore after a while.

"Looking to spar, Lord Stark?"

Torrhen turned, and there stood a man with a smug smirk, wearing fine silk and fingers adorning several rings. But, the way he stood, the way he handled the blade in his hand, it could be told that he was not skilled at arms.

"I'm not interested." Torrhen grumbled, turning and continuing his motions with his blade.

The man laughs, "What, scared of a challenge? I thought you in the North were tough."

Torrhen sighed sharply, ignoring him.

It seems, he did not like that. The smug look on his face wiped off, and he marched forward. He shoved at Torrhen, who was in the middle of a strike. Torrhen smothered his grunt, fists clenched as the man continued to taunt him.

"Come on, oh honourable Stark." The man taunts, "Show us some of that Northern power."

"I don't want any trouble." Torrhen glared.