𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭; j. snow

-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯

KING'S LANDING 298 AC

"Gods, that was just horrible," Sansa whispered as her and Jocasta walked around the tourney grounds.

    "They're made to splinter so that doesn't happen," Jocasta answered, shaking her head.

    "My father is joining us today," Sansa said, holding the girl's arm.

    Jo was wearing the blue velvet, she craved something simpler than yesterday. An aquamarine necklace sat square on her neck and an opal ring adorned her finger.

    "Good. The Hand decided to show up to the Hand's tourney," Jo laughed.

    She heard a deep, roaring laugh from the tent where her father was suiting up in his armor. Her cousin, Lancel, darted out from the tent. The boy had a perpetual look of fear in his eyes. Well, she would hate to be her father's squire, too.

    "Go, let us sit," Sansa urged, dragging her friend to the stands.

    People were starting to stream in. Jocasta had decided to sit by Sansa and not with her family. It wasn't like she could whisper silly things into Joffrey's ear. He would probably spit on her and call her a dumb woman.

    "Hopefully today won't be filled with such... horrors," Jo smiled, clutching Sansa's hand in her own.

    The royal family finally entered after what felt like ages, as well as Ned Stark. He took his loyal place next to his daughter, immediately noticing the absence of the other. "Where's Arya?" he asked, his eyes roaming for his wild youngest daughter.

    "With her dancing master," she responded, looking out to the track where Ser Loras bowed to her. "The Knight of Flowers," she beamed, her eyes wide with desire, even if her father didn't recognize it. Jocasta did; she had been filled with the exact same feeling before.

He handed her a red rose, and Sansa's eyes went all dreamy as she clutched it in her hand. "Thank you, Ser Loras," she blushed, looking sheepishly down at her hands.

    He was decked in the finest of armor, with roses molded into the fine metal. His mare was covered in flowers, and he looked rather beautiful. He was handsome, with his curly blonde hair, and kind eyes. The gods bestowed a gift on his face as well, the gift of beauty, one not many people can say they have. They certainly favored the Knight of Flowers.

    He paid his due courtesies to Jocasta, receiving a pleasant smile in return. His eyes flickered to the man sitting behind Jo. Her uncle Renly. It was a short glance, but just long enough for Jo to catch it, as well as Sansa.

    She gave the girl a knowing look, and her friend just rolled her eyes, still refusing to believe what seemed more than not to be the truth. With a bow to the king, his mare trotted off to the opposite track, the flowers leaving a lovely aroma in their wake.

    "Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," she begged her father, only receiving a dismissal in return. "I can't watch," she mumbled as she buried her face in her friend's shoulder.

    "100 gold dragons on the Mountain," Lord Baelish said proudly. Jocasta did have good faith in Loras, though. He was certainly skilled at what he did. The Mountain was just so large. She never liked him, especially after the rumor of what he did to Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell's children. It made her violently ill.

    "I'll take that bet," her uncle Renly challenged, having justified confidence in his friend.

    "Now, what will I buy with 100 gold dragons?" Littlefinger pondered. "A dozen barrels of Dornish wine? Or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys."