For a century, the Targaryens held sway over the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros: from the arid deserts of Dorne to the icy expanses of the North, from the verdant plains of the Reach to the rugged coasts of the Stormlands. Yet, amidst the splendor of th...
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Viserys Targaryen, First of his name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hosted a tournament three days later in honor of his wife's twenty-third nameday. The nobles filled the arena, eager to watch the various houses fielding knights who jousted with lances, sometimes ending in deadly collisions. For Siveen, it was all dreadfully boring. Raised in Volantis, she had no interest in such tournaments, unlike the other nobles from Westeros, which might explain her lack of enthusiasm.
So she sat between the Master of Whisperers, Larys Strong, and his father Lyonel Strong in the stands, slightly elevated beneath the king, who enjoyed the best view with his family.
»Do you not enjoy the tournament, mylady?« asked Larys, scratching his shiny clean cheeks, already glistening with sweat from the intense sun rays.
»Why do you ask, Lord Strong?« replied Siveen, smoothing her white dress. Normally, she wore darker colors here in King's Landing, but on this day, it was so warm that she couldn't bear it. She didn't even want to imagine how the knights felt in their heavy suits of armor on the sunny tournament grounds.
»You seem pale,« retorted Larys, and Siveen knew it was a lie, merely a comment on her slightly darker complexion, even though some others basking in the sun were noticeably darker than her. She wasn't fazed by this remark and suddenly waved her palm in front of her face to create a breeze.
»Only the sun,« she breathed, hearing Lyonel chuckle softly.
»Shall I have something to drink brought for you?« Larys asked, as if he hadn't understood the irony in her statement. She wanted to tell him not to bother, given the clubfoot he carried on his body, but she spared herself the drama.
After all, he wasn't called the 'Master of Whispers' for nothing, and through his abnormal number of spies, he knew more about her than she probably did herself. He didn't need to know her contempt as well.
»You'd better watch out that your pale skin doesn't burn,« she joked, and the three of them laughed quietly, more or less forced. His pale nose was already turning red, so it was probably funnier for Lyonel and her than for him.
Suddenly, Siveen's attention was drawn to the tournament ground, where countless riders lined up, each adorned in noble armor atop magnificent horses, shield and lance in hand. It began with the banner of the black stag on a golden field, belonging to House Baratheon. Next to them stood House Tyrell, bearing the golden rose. Even the knight wore golden armor, with golden hair peeking out, though he was barely taller than a fifteen-year-old, so she didn't rate his chances too highly. Beside them, on a beautiful chestnut horse, was House Tully with the silver fish, followed by House Stark with the gray direwolf. Siveen believed his name was Rickon Stark, the Warden of the North. Why he personally participated in the tournament and why he didn't send a knight were probably known only to the gods. Then, of course, came House Hightower, with the gray tower on a green field, represented by the queen's older brother, Otto's eldest son. Further side was the representative of the Free Cities, undoubtedly Siveen's brother Henryk, who always enjoyed such events. Since Volantis was a Free City, they didn't have a real coat of arms like the noble houses, so the city's emblem was usually represented by a three-masted merchant ship crowned with a trident, on a blue field. And that's exactly how he looked: proud, as if he were about to be crowned. Siveen would be lying if she said she wasn't proud, but she also didn't want anything to happen to him. Lastly, and the only one remaining, was House Lannister with the lion's banner. They were always described as the richest house, but as rich as they may be, they were just as arrogant, especially with their golden hair that ran through the entire family. While it was almost the same with the Targaryens, except theirs were almost silver, they didn't boast about it like those idiots.
