The Dragon's Heart Is Mine || Geralt Targaryen [1]

31 • THE HEIR'S TOURNAMENT

9 moons Later

At the West Wing of the Red Keep in Maegor's Holdfast, servants were running hither and thither in aide for the Queen.

Aemma goes into labour as the Maester Mellos had predicated and today was the day of her delivery and whole of Westeros held their breath to hear the cry of a new born baby.

The heir's tournament has finally come, and Rhaenyra is late. As is her usual custom.
She emerges from the steps at the rear of her father's royal box on King's Landing's tournament grounds.

Geralt and Alicent were already seated in front of the King and the Hand as befits their station, but no matter how Alicent keeps glancing to Geralt's side, the prince never spoke to her nor gave her an audience, his gaze was fixated on the arena. How fickle and cold he can be.

Alicent blinks, sighing in frustration, fiddling with her fingernails, looking over to the seat at her left, Rheanyra hasn't arrived.

The princess hustles through slashes of sunlight filtering in through the slatted roof of the box, large enough to seat fifty nobles and friends of the Targaryens.

She climbs across a group of irritated courteous nobles, her eyes trails over the crowd, seeing her best friend hair glowing in the light, pulled back, slightly cascaded down with weaves.

In all, two hundred knights from every house and hedge great and small have come to join the games to be held in honor of the king and queen's new child.

Banners from every kingdom flap in the warm springtime wind. Smallfolk gather on the perimeter of the tourney grounds, trying to catch a glimpse of a favorite knight and immediately the trumpet sounds.

There's jousting, fighting and politics. Drums began pounding in rhythms as the King stood up to address the crowd.

"Be welcome! I know many of you have travelled long leagues for these games. But I promise that you will not be disappointed. When I look out at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories." Viserys declares, his voice echoes in the arena.

Rhaenyra has seen her father rise from her seat at the front of the box, still some rows ahead of her. She picks up her pace as he begins his address.

"And this great day is made even more auspicious by the news that I'm happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors!" Viserys declares wholeheartedly as the crowd cheer for the impending birth.

Immediately Rheanyra passes her father, he throws her a sidelong glance laced with disappointment, frustration, and love.
She is dressed in silver and wears the Valyrian steel pendant that her uncle, Daemon, gave her.

The crowd continues to cheer to the news as Rhaenyra hurries to her seat, her feet nearly stumbling beneath her in her haste. Geralt joins in clapping, examining the grounds closely.