When it was time for the second round of the tourney, Dyana quickly made way for her seat from the day prior. She found the Starks already seated. Eddard, who had been absent during the first round, seemed to have replaced Arya, who was missing. "Lord Eddard," she addressed politely.

Eddard turned in his seat, offering a smile. "Lady Tyrell," he replied.

"Oh, please, just call me Dyana. My sister is Lady Tyrell."

"Well, it's good to meet you, Dyana."

She smiled, nodding. "Good to meet you, too."

Sansa didn't look at Dyana. She watched Gregor ride in, stopping before the king. "Where's Arya?" Eddard asked his eldest daughter.

"At her dancing lessons," Sansa replied.

She straightened considerably in her seat when Loras rode out, a red rose in his hand and an expression of uncaring elegance on his handsome face. "The Knight of the Flowers," she grinned.

Loras made his way to the stands, smiling as he held out the rose to Sansa. "Thank you, Ser Loras," she said joyfully.

His gaze flitted to Dyana. "Sister dear," he noted.

"Loras," she smiled.

She saw his eyes dart above her, however. Toward the seat she knew contained Renly Baratheon, King Robert's little brother.

Loras rode to the Mountain's side, bowing lowly. Sansa just seemed to notice Dyana's presence.

"You're Dyana Tyrell," she said. "They call you the Princess of Petals."

Dyana let out a chuckle. "A silly nickname made by silly people," she replied. "I'm no princess. And you can call Ana, if you please."

Sansa smiled at the youngest Tyrell before looking back toward Gregor and Loras.

Gregor's warhorse was wild, bucking and moving around. Loras sneered at the animal, leading his white mare away. But Dyana saw the arrogant smile that he gave when he thought no one was looking. She knew that smile well. It was the smile he had whenever he was able to trick Highgarden's Master-at-Arms. When he'd done something not exactly honorable. She couldn't help but smile. Loras's mare was in heat, and Gregor liked stallions that had not been castrated. A simple trick, but one that would certainly pay off.

Gregor and Loras rode to either end of the field, Gregor's stallion fighting him all the while. They were handed lances and shields. Gregor fumbled to get them into his grip, still trying to keep his horse in place. Loras put on his helm, an intricate thing designed to look like intertwining vines and roses. If there was anything Dyana's brother was known for, it was his extravagance. That, and his handsomeness.

Sansa took her father's arm tightly. "Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," she said.

"Hey," Eddard tried to ease.

"I can't watch."

"One hundred Gold Dragons on the Mountain," Petyr spoke up from his seat beside Dyana, looking back at Renly.

"I'll take that bet," the king's brother replied.

"Now, what will I buy with one hundred Gold Dragons? Or a dozen barrels of Dornish wine? A girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?"

"Or you could even buy a friend."

Sansa was growing more upset. "He's going to die," she stated.

Dyana bit her lip, leaning forward and taking Sansa's arm. "My brother rides well, Lady Sansa. You needn't worry about him."

Gregor's horse pawed at the dirt, kicking up clouds of dust.

The horn was blown, and instantly the men were riding toward each other. "Loras!" Dyana cheered.

It happened fast.

Loras's lance slammed against Gregor's shield, just as Gregor's horse made a move toward the mare. Gregor went tumbling, his horse breaking the wooden fence.

Renly rose to his feet, grinning and laughing raucously. Dyana couldn't help but stand as well, clapping wildly. Gregor's horse got to it's feet, leaving it's owner in the dirt. "Such a shame, Littlefinger," Renly said. "It would have been so nice for you to have a friend."

Petyr stood as well, waving a hand toward Loras. "And tell me, Lord Renly," he said, "when will you be having your friend?"

Renly rolled his dark eyes, sitting back down. Dyana glared at Petyr, leaning close to whisper to him. "My brother's friendships are no concern of yours. Am I clear?"

He turned his head slightly, chuckling at the youngest Tyrell. "Very clear, Dyana."

"It's Lady Tyrell to you," she snapped.

Petyr nodded, sitting back down. Dyana hesitated before doing the same. She took Sansa's shoulder gently. "I told you Loras would win. He knew that his mare was in heat. A clever plan, really."

"Ser Loras would never do that," Sansa said. "There's no honor in tricks."

"No honor, yes," Petyr suddenly interjected. "But quite a bit of gold."

Gregor got to his feet, throwing his helmet to the dirt. "Sword!" he roared.

A squire hurried over, handing him his sword. Loras was riding along, smiling. Gregor drew the sword, turning and chopping his horse's head off in one fell swoop. The crowd's clapping and cheering suddenly turned to horrified cries and gasps.

Gregor advanced toward Loras, who was only just able to block with his shield before being thrown to the dirt. "Loras!" Dyana urged.

He fell on his head, his helm bending. Loras quickly stumbled to his feet, backing away from Gregor, shielding himself the best he could. He tripped over his armor, falling once more. He managed to cover himself with the shield, curling into a ball. Both Renly and Dyana rose.

"Leave him be!" Sandor shouted, hurrying away from the royal family.

Gregor swung down on Loras's shield, and there was a splintering of wood. "Stop him!" Dyana screamed.

Loras rolled away, allowing Sandor to launch into a fight with Gregor. Joffrey stood next, staring at his protector.

Gregor backed away, a glare on his face. He let out a growl, charging at his little brother. The swords clanged together, the sound ringing in Dyana's ears. Joffrey smiled slightly, enjoying the fight.

"Stop this madness in the name of your king!" Robert shouted.

Sandor stopped, dropping to his knees, pressing the blade of his sword into the dirt. Gregor's sword barely missed the top of his head. The Mountain threw his sword down, storming off the field. "Let him go!" Robert told the Kingsguard who attempted to block him.

Everyone who was standing sat back down. All except Dyana. She watched as Loras got back to his feet, moving toward Sandor. "I owe you my life, Ser," he said.

"I'm no ser," Sandor replied.

Loras took his arm, raising into the air. Cheers exploded from the crowd, and everyone was standing again.

When Loras released Sandor's arm, Dyana ran onto the field. She threw her arms around her older brother, laughing. "Oh, you're an idiot," she whispered. "A damn idiot."

"A damn idiot who's won this round of the tourney," he answered.

She shoved him lightly, laughing still. "You're mad, Loras."

He just smiled.