The Reign of Fire

A Golden Crown

Rhaenyra watches as they drag the body of the knight away, leaving a trail of blood behind on the sands. While Sansa weeps at the sight, Rhaenyra barely blinks, her mind numb to the horror.

The crowd suddenly erupts with cheers, all but forgetting about the on slaughter as a new knight rides onto the sands. Rhaenyra looks across at the knight, as Sansa dries her eyes and sits up straighter.

"The Knight of the Flowers" She says.

Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden. His personal coat of arms is three golden roses on a field of green, indicating his position as a third son. He has a mass of lazy brown curls and ringlets which tumble over his eyes, that were big and full of liquid gold. Despite his youth and slender frame, Loras is a capable warrior, using axes, lances, morningstars, and swords to deadly effect.

He sits astride a white mare, and wears polished silver armour that has flowers decorated across the breast plate.

Rhaenyra slightly scrunches up her face as he holds a red rose and rides towards her family, stopping in front of Sansa. Ser Loras bows his head as he presents the single flower to the Stark girl, a smirk gracing his lips.

"Thank you, Ser Loras" Sansa whispers as her cheeks turn as red as the petals.

The Knight flicks his eyes to Rhaenyra, gazing at the Targaryen for a moment before turning his horse away from the grandstand. He trots over to where The Mountain awaits on top of his horse, and pulls up beside him, before they both bow to the King. Suddenly, the stallion that The Mountain rides, rears his head, it's eyes wide and nostrils flared. He neighs loudly and stomps at the ground, unsettled, while Ser Loras chuckles and rides away.

"Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him" Sansa clings to Lord Stark's arm. "I can't watch"

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes at the girls innocents.

"He's going to die"

Lord Stark pats her hand that grips the sleeve of his tunic. "Ser Loras rides well"

The white mare calmly stands, while the black stallion becomes more and more agitated. Rhaenyra scoffs at the realization for a beast or man would only react like that for one reason.

At the sound of the horn being blown, both riders charge, their lances positioned for a hit. Ser Loars makes contact with The Mountain, causing him to tumble from his horse and fall into the wooden banister. The crowd gasp in surprise before erupting into cheers.

Rhaenyra leans across to the man with the small pointed beard on his chin "The mare, she was in heat?"

"Quite crafty, really" He says with a chuckle.

"There is no honour in tricks"

"No honour, but quite a bit of gold"

Enraged at the lost, Ser Gregor throws his helmet and demands his sword in a booming voice, that sends shivers down Rhaenyra's spine. The crowd's cheer turns into screams of horror as The Mountain decapitates his horse in a single blow, before charging towards Ser Loras and swinging at him with his broad sword. The crowd gasps as Ser Loras tumbles to the ground from atop his stead, barley missing the tip of the blade.

Ser Loras rolls onto his back and lifts his shield, blocking a strike from The Mountain.

"Leave him be!" A voice roars.

The Hound jumps down from the grandstand and gets between The Mountain and he's prey. The crowd murmur as the two brothers glare at each other before attacking at the same time. They trade thunderous blows, testing the other's strength.

"Stop this madness in the name for your King!"

The Hound kneels at the sound of the King's voice, while The Mountain stands. His face red and spit drooling down his chin. He looked more beast than man at this point. Rhaenyra stares at The Mountain, waiting for him to be insubordinate to his King. After a beat, he throws down his sword and storms away, shoving through the guards that gathered at the edge of the sands.