Hers Is The Fury

Hand's Tourney

[King's Landing - Red Keep]

The tourney for Lord Stark had finally arrived.

Knights from various houses had journeyed to the capital, to prove their worth, and attempt to earn a fair bit of coin.

Though, noticeably absent was Lord Stark... the man of honour.

Nonetheless, the event was carrying on as if he had deigned to appear.

The air was filled with the sound of laughter and music, and the smell of roasting meats wafted from the vendors' stalls.

The stands were full and the Royal family sat on a dais in the centre of the festivities, Barristan Selmy and The Hound standing guard, as well as Robert Lannister.

Princess Morgana Baratheon, dressed in a gown of shimmering silk, watched the proceedings with a mixture of boredom and disdain. She had attended the tournament every year since she was a child, but it nevr seemed to hold any excitement for her. This time, however, something was different.

But amidst the excitement of the tourney, Morgana couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Her father, the King, had been drinking heavily since dawn, his antics growing more boisterous by the hour. She knew that if he continued to indulge in his cups, it would only be a matter of time before he embarrassed them all.

Though, Morgana was growing increasingly frustrated with Joffrey, and was tempted to join the Stark sisters who were sat with their Septa, waiting for the joust to begin.

Sansa attempted to catch the Prince's attention, sending him a smile when their eyes met. Unfortunately it was not reciprocated. Instead the prince scowled before looking away.

"Lover's quarrel?" A man, unknown to Sansa, asked, walking up.

"I'm sorry. Do I...?"

"Sansa dear, this is Lord Baelish. He's known..." Septa Mordane moved to answer.

"An old friend of the family. I've known your mother a long, long time." Littlefinger interrupted before taking a seat beside Sansa.

"Why do they call you Littlefinger?" Arya asked.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted, embarrassed.

"Don't be rude!" Septa Mordane scolded.

"No, it's quite all right. When I was a child, I was very small. And I come from a little spit of land called the Fingers, so you see, it's an exceedingly clever nickname."

"Start the damn joust before I piss myself!" The king shouted, causing his wife to stalk off, clearly embarrassed.

Unfortunate as it was, his children were used to his behaviour. Also, they didn't have the same privilege as the mother, who could leave to avoid further embarrassment, exactly as she had done.

"I'm going to sit with the Stark's," Morgana told her father, who simply waved her away.

She stood and made her way to the two young girls, whom she noticed had been joined by Lord Baelish, better known as Littlefinger.

As the tournament began, Morgana found herself seated near Littlefinger, the cunning and ambitious Master of Coin. He was a man she did not trust, sensing the calculation behind his charming smile and smooth words.

Tired of her father's drunken antics, Morgana sought refuge among the Stark sisters, who were sitting nearby. Sansa and Arya both smiled at her, and Morgana returned their greeting. They chatted idly for a while, discussing the various competitors and their chances of winning. As they talked, Morgana couldn't help but steal glances at Littlefinger, who was sitting several rows down from them. She didn't trust him; there was something calculating in his eyes that made her skin crawl.