✶|𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺|✶ 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯

✶𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 10✶

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Tournament Grounds

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Year 128

Westeros

Sunspear , Dorne

A few days after the arrival of the Targaryens, inside the comfortable carriage, the Dayne family was caught up in conversation as they traveled towards the tournament grounds beyond Sunspear. 

The anticipation of the upcoming event hung in the air, and Elyas seemed especially restless, unable to keep his excitement contained.

"Father," Elyas began, "are you certain I'll be allowed to compete? I'm not exactly of age yet, but... I'm more than capable. This could be my chance to represent House Dayne properly."

Lord Dayne chuckled, giving his son an approving nod. 

"Your skill speaks for itself, Elyas. The Martells are well aware of your talents and, though you're younger than most, they'll make an exception in this case. It's an honor to represent our house, and I trust you'll rise to the occasion."

Serena shifted forward in her seat, her eyes brightening. "And what about me? I want to compete too," she added enthusiastically, leaning closer. "I'm more than ready."

Her father looked at her with a soft smile, shaking his head. 

"One day, perhaps, but not now, Serena. You're still young, and tournaments are no gentle affair. It's best that you watch and learn, for now."

Elyas grinned, casting a glance at Serena. "If it's any consolation, you could always help me prepare," he offered, nudging her with his elbow. "Your insights and speed will be invaluable."

Serena's face lit up, and she shot Elyas a grateful look. "I'd like that if I didn't have this expensive dress. Maybe next time, I will be able to teach you a few moves!" She joked.

Lady Kyria, their mother, laughed softly at their banter, her gaze filled with warmth. 

"It's good to see such spirit in both of you. But do remember, you're not just there to win, you're there to represent House Dayne. Carry yourself with pride, as well as strength."

"Wise words, Mother," Elyas replied with a slight bow of his head, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "But I think there's no harm in impressing a few of the spectators as well."

"Oh, please," Sylara laughed, rolling her eyes. "We all know that you're more interested in making a name for yourself."

As the Dayne carriage neared the tournament grounds, Serena peeked through the small window, taking in the scene unfolding around the arena. A cluster of brightly colored tents dotted the landscape, their fabric swaying gently in the warm breeze. 

Each tent bore simple yet distinct designs, many showcasing the sigils of noble houses. Some were striped in bold colors, while others displayed intricate embroidery and patterns representing the pride and heritage of their occupants.

The arena itself was a marvel of medieval craftsmanship, though it lacked the grandeur of the coliseums Serena remembered from tales of her past life. It was a sturdy structure of wood and steel, with tall stands built to hold eager spectators.