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-The White Lion of the Red Keep (One Chapter)
-Dragon Age: The Demonic Age (Two Chapters)
-The Overlord Geass (One Chapter)
-One Piece: A Demon's treasure (One Chapter)
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Chapter 15
Robert Baratheon was a man of unwavering determination and unspoken power. He was a man who knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to attain it. Ours is the fury. Those were House Baratheon's words, after all, and they do represent the Baratheon's men. And Baratheon's heart was set on a woman whose beauty was unparalleled, with hair as white as fresh snow and eyes that sparkled like pure gold. To him, she was everything, and he would go to great lengths to make her his own, so when he heard that, the King demanded the hand of the woman he loved and gave it to Rheagar, the Crowned Prince. It made Robert lose his mind for a few days.
How dare he? Only because he was the King? Robert hissed, mentally filled with rage. Filthy dragonspawn! The Seven Kingdoms would be better without them.
Robert glared at Aerys II, who sat on his chair, looking around, frowning, scoffing at the people.
Robert then glanced over at the Stark family. Strangely enough, he smiled underneath his helmet. He saw Ned and that woman with purple eyes next to him, blushing slightly at his dear friend. The man Robert called brother. That made Robert happy.
Go one, Ned, don't waste your time. She is into you, just take her to bed and make her yours. Robert chuckled inside his mind, knowing that Ned wasn't that type of man. Still, he wished the best for his dear friend.
Robert's gaze fell upon Galadriel, and the sight of her soft, gentle smile set a raging fire alight within him. He felt his grip tighten around his lance, fully aware that the joust was about to begin. He had no intention of losing to either the unmanned lord or the crowned prince. His determination burned bright as he prepared himself for the challenge ahead.
So soon enough, the trumpet sound came, and the joust began, and everyone shall know Robert's fury and determination. But for others, it would be shown how dangerous of a man he was, which suited just fine for a certain white-haired woman who sat on the stands with a particular smile on her face.
Marvellous, what a smile can do when it is used correctly. Galadriel chuckled softly under her breath.
"At the very least, I can say that Lord Baratheon can ride," Lyanna murmured quietly as she watched him confront the lord whose name she didn't know anything about nor she cared about.
"Stubborn man like Robert, then to be quite good a hitting things," Lyarra added, watching the Stag Lord dismount the poor noble with a precise hit on the chest, sending him to the ground. She winced deeply, hitting this sort of event. "Why are men so infatuated with this?"
Rickard took his wife's hand and gently squeezed it. "Some of them are sent here in order to seek glory. Others to taste blood and what it is to strike another man down. Few of these young boys have known war or seen few winters."
"So they seek the thrill here," Brandon added, looking at how Robert boasted loudly. "These Southerner nobles playing to be knights know nothing of war."
Elia prided herself on her ability to read people's characters accurately. She had a nose for lies and half-truths and was quick to spot them. Despite Brandon's questionable behaviour, Elia saw no indication of deceit on his face. In fact, she would go so far as to say that he was an absolutely terrible liar and didn't seem to have any inclination to deceive others. So, when she saw his face, she wondered if Brandon had been in a battle.
"Have you been in a battle, my Lord?" Elia questioned as Brandon chuckled, but there was no joy behind his laugh.
"Quite the question, my princess," Brandon chuckled gently.
"So... have you?" Elia pushed for an answer, but it didn't come from Brandon.
"The Wildlings often raid our lands," everyone then stared at Galadriel, who was looking at the joust field, as the noble who looked injured was carried away. "A few years ago. A large group of raiders, led by a man called the Antlers' hand, gathered a large group under him. Around eight thousand strong. They raided all the lands of the Karstarks—our cousins by blood. Our family needed to fight. And so they did."
Galadriel then glanced at Elia and Ashara. "My siblings, all of them, took part in that battle that lasted three months until we got rid of all the Wildlings. And it hasn't been the first time Wildlings have done this, the largest one yet but not the first. That... was just the sixth time in the last decade."
As Elia's gaze shifted towards Brandon and Ned, she couldn't help but notice the dark contrast between their demeanour and that of the other nobles and lords present at the tourney. Both men wore stoic expressions, devoid of any emotion or sentimentality, as if they were completely detached from the festivities and solely focused on some other, more pressing matter. It was a striking sight, one that left Elia feeling slightly unnerved and curious about what could be occupying their minds so heavily.
"Why the crown doesn't do anything about it? Shouldn't the King or the small council help the North if these raids are so common?" Ashara asked, as Ned simply looked gently at her. It was clear that Ashara meant well with those words, but the reality was different.
"The South doesn't care about the North. Never have, never will be," Lyanna snapped, gritting her teeth. "Why should they bother if a few hundred of my people die? Do you care? I doubt the King could even pinpoint White Harbor in the map even if his life depended on it."
"Lyanna, not here," Rickard warned; they were incredibly close to King Aerys, and he didn't want anyone to hear about their little chat.
"I didn't know things were that bad," Ashara muttered softly.
"In recent years, the North has undergone significant growth and development, making it stronger and more resilient than ever before. However, the battles to ensure our survival continues to rage on, testing our strength and determination at every turn. Besides, only we seemed to remember what lurks beyond the Wall, Princess Martell, Lady Ashara," Galadriel then stared at Elia, who suddenly felt small underneath the gaze of the White Wolf of Winterfell. "The North Remembers and Winter is Coming."
Elia then realised why the Stark's children had that face. Their minds went back home, worries that would never leave them, no matter where they were.
The North is truly a different place from the rest. I wonder just how different...
Elia hummed deeply before recalling something that Galadriel said, which surprised her. "Wait, does Lady Lyanna participate in that battle...?"
Then a loud sigh was heard from Lord and Lady Stark, which caused the siblings to chuckle.
"Yes, she was there," Brandon laughed, remembering that day. "A young child... forged in war, against her parent's wishes, of course."
"She almost killed our mother, too," Ned muttered while Lyanna smiled proudly, remembering that battle. She was afraid, honestly, but she wouldn't let the fear take hold of her and let her see her home being burned down by outsiders.
Besides, Galadriel gave her an armor that protected her from all harm, and Lord Muller kept her safe during her first battle.
Galadriel, in question, does recall that day as clear as day. It wasn't as if she didn't know that the Wildlings were scouting south past the wall. Her agents told her that powerful magic blocked their path far north with a highly powerful snowstorm. At least powerful enough for her weak minions not to pass it.
Albedo and Pandora's Actor suggested that they could easily break it by sending a more powerful agent, like a level 50 monster. However, Galadriel was more cautious than that. She was aware of what lay beyond and the potential consequences of their actions if their theories were correct. She believed that the more Gods they killed, the stronger the unknown force up North would become besides if they went and killed whatever god was up here. That magic would soon land somewhere, to another God around the world.
Galadriel wanted to keep that entity up there, where she could keep an eye out for him. If the legends were correct, Night King may have a second coming. She could prepare for that and win without much attrition. Yet, it was the unknown that made Galadriel worry. She needs to find out how many Gods were out there or how powerful they were and could become. Only then would she take action when all the pieces were in place.
But her attention was soon pushed aside as she heard the cheers coming.
"Finally," Lyanna muttered. "I wondered what took them so long."
"It's the last match, and the King looks relentless. No doubt he ordered to be finished now," Rickard announced as they saw Prince Rheagar and Lord Baratheon entering the tourneys ground, both on their horses, looking at the ground as they pared around holding their houses banners.
"I feel quite the heavy tension around the field," Ashara muttered, showcasing a sort of anxiousness she couldn't quite describe. Ned took her hand, taking some of her fears away.
"It's going to be alright," Ned spoke, but he couldn't quite feel so sure about himself even though he could not see Robert's face. Ned hoped he would not do something stupid in front of the court—especially the King.
"The Stag wants blood," Brandon pointed out, with no smirk on his face. "Just look at the way he grips his lance."
"Robert may be a drunkard and a manwhore, but I doubt he is a fool," Lyanna added. "He would not dare strike the prince down before his father."
Would he?
That was the question that lingered in the air. Perhaps, a question that would soon be answered, and the result may not be one worth seeking. Yet while the tension weighted heavily on the tourney court, with many wondering and hoping the joust would end without blood spilt. For her part, Galadriel was just ready to enjoy the spectacle and would love whatever end they gave her. After all, jousts were dangerous things. Dying was often unavoidable.
Just entertain me, petty mortal man.
Galadriel held her smile down and tried to hide it behind apprehension. However, Elia saw a tiny little glimpse of what she thought was a smile.
Did... did she smile? Elia could only ponder as she watched the joust begin.
Robert and Rheagar said nothing as they presented themselves to the King and then rode to their position. Those two men stood on their horses, glaring at each other. They didn't have to say much, nor did they wish to speak to each other. Rheagar knew what Robert wanted, and he knew that he was the type of man who would stop at nothing to achieve whatever his heart desired. But so was Rheagar, and he could also be stubborn. After all, what was a Stag to a Dragon?
A Song of Ice and Fire... the Prince that was Promised. Rheagar thought as he glanced at Galadriel, who stared back at him while holding her hand over her chest in a worried gesture. A sign he understood showcased how much she cared for him. She was truly in love with him.
Which was not really true.
I have some breadcrumbs on my chest. I should clean them before my mother sees them. Galadriel thought as she waved at Rheagar, without paying much attention to whatever he was thinking, not that she genuinely cared.
Soon, the sound of the trumpet echoed on the jousting ground, and both sides began their assault. Their horses closed the distance, and they aimed their lances at each other. Yet, their lances barely touched one another. A miss for both who evaded their opponent's hit masterfully. Everyone cheered in awe at how the Stag and the Dragon evaded the attack. But it was clear to all that it could be a one-hit battle for either side. Robert placed all his rage behind his lance, and Rheagar set all his self-prophecy victory on his.
Then again, they aimed at each other before going once more. This time, Rheagar's lance hit its mark, crashing on Robert's chest, as he could not move his shield quickly enough. However, Robert's stubbornness was a sight to behold since he refused to fall down from his horse.
The people cheered loudly at the sight of the joust restarting.
"Like I say," Lyanna commented as she stared at Robert, picking up another lance. "He is a stubborn drunkard."
Galadriel had to give it to her sister's keen observation. Robert was a stubborn mule that won't quit, and now, what was left to see if that mule in question could claim a hit of his own.
And Robert, in question, was not happy. Still, in this sort of moment, the Baratheon's fury showcased their ability to wage a battle.
Usually, one would grip his lance hard in order to get a better hold, but Robert's mind was one of a warrior's. Instead, he loosens up his grip, just holding with strenght enough to keep it in balance. Then, the next round began.
Robert saw Rheagar was smaller in size and quite capable of manoeuvring on his horse, hence why he loosened his grip, helping him aim his lance easily at the prince's body. And it worked. He hit Rhaegar right on his chest, splinting the lance into dozens of pieces.
Everyone gasped at the fact that Prince Rhaegar was struck by a lance, and by the sound of it, the prince was in pain. Rhaegar stumbled on his horse, ready to fall, but he proved to be capable of enduring.
That definitely looked like it hurt. Galadriel thought with a hint of amusement; of course, she couldn't showcase such an attitude. She simply held her hands close in a worrisome matter. Well, at least he didn't merely fall down and lose the joust in such a disappointing way. Rhaegar is tougher than I thought.
Rhaegar grunted, making sure to keep his body firm. He took another lance and glared at Robert on the other side of the arena. They both were ready to end it. Soon enough, they aimed their lances at each other and rode to meet their fate. It felt like an eternity as everyone watched both Stag and Dragon clash. But to everyone's surprise, both struck each other simultaneously. Splinters flew all over, and a piece of the lance and shield landed on the dirt. But so did both Rhaegar and Robert.
Everyone gasped, watching the two men groan on the ground. Jousts were quite the affair—a sign of knighthood even. Yet it could become bloodshed when both knights in question had something to fight over. Either house rivalry, pure anger, humiliation, pride, or a woman's affection, and in this case, it was the latter.
Robert unexpectedly threw himself at the prince, catching him off guard.
Then, with the kind of rage that could only come from a Baratheon, he started punching Rhaegar's helmet with his bare fist. Usually, people would gasp at such action, but this was a joust, and this sort of thing was not a surprise. In fact, the people began cheering for some odd reason.
Especially when Rhaegar began to fight back, pushing Robert away from him with a powerful kick.
As the squires of Rhaegar and Robert brought them their weapons, it became apparent that swords would be the tool of choice in this battle, replacing the previously used lances. With their swords in hand, the two warriors engaged in combat, each determined to emerge victorious. Although, the reality had nothing to do with the glory or honour of either of them. No, their thoughts were just Galadriel, the woman both loved above all else.
"Your grace!" Ser Barristan, who was next to Aerys, hissed worriedly, watching the Crown Prince engaged in a battle against the Stag. A fight that could prove deadly for the realm's future.
Yet, Aerys, the Mad King and Rhaegar's father seemed rather entertained by it; with a sick smile, he only glanced at his Kinsguard. "If a Stag can defeat a Dragon, then it was not a real Dragon at all."
To say those words terrified Ser Barristan would be an understatement. It brought nothing but anxiousness that the King himself would place Rhaegar's life in danger just so that he could feel in control. In fact, one would think that if Robert were to kill Prince Rhaegar right then and there. Aerys would use it as an excuse to execute the Stormland Lord publically.
To what end would the King do this? What would it accomplish? Only Aerys knew.
Or perhaps he didn't, and that was worse.
Galadriel was simply overjoyed by the spectacle before her. So this is what those popular girls back in my school felt when two guys fought over them? I can't deny how utterly pleasant the feeling feels. Truly, it feeds my ego. And I don't even like men.
Galadriel watched the fight and, while doing so, could see how vastly different both their styles were. Robert was clearly the more physically powerful of both. He was not refined in his swordplay, which was evident by how he swung the sword around as if it were a warhammer, which proved to be a handicap for Robert. But what Rober lacked in refinement with the sword, compensated by sheer brute strenght and vitality. Also, Robert was not just a brute, he had some mind for strategy, and Galadriel had to acknowledge that side of Robert.
He moves carefully, repeatedly attacking Rhaegar's side before drastically changing patterns. He knows what he is doing. Galadriel thought, as she then glanced at Rhaegar blocking each attack.
Rhaegar Targaryen, unlike his opponent Robert Baratheon, had a fluidity with the sword that was unmatched. His graceful and precise movements showcased a natural talent that could not be taught. It was clear that Rhaegar had dedicated countless hours to perfecting his craft as he moved with a speed and agility that seemed almost supernatural.
Galadriel also saw how Rhaegar was also a brilliant strategist. He knew when to strike and when to hold back, conserving his energy until the perfect moment presented itself. This patience and control were key to his success in battle, as he was able to outmanoeuvre his opponents with ease.
Two different minds, different styles. Intriguing. Who is going to win? I can barely see the outcome. Galadriel wondered if it was a real battle, it could definitely go either way. It would vastly depend on how each side's strategy, but Galadriel, at the same time, believed that the terrain would be a vital component of the success. If they were fighting in an open field, with nothing around, that would make Rhaegar's fight sluggish or make him slow. Rhaegar could potentially win, however, if he were to fight in the mud, snow, or in river. Robert would only need one strike to end Rhaegar's life.
But of course, while finding the entire thing exciting and entertaining. Galadriel couldn't have both of them being killed, not now. Besides, the lack of action from the King made Galadriel wonder what could the Mad King be seeking in this confrontation.
Asking for some sense from a mad person is pointless. Now, what should I do? Galadriel saw that the fight was reaching its climax. So, she decided to have a small meeting to hear more thoughts.
Quickly Galadriel snapped an item she was hiding underneath her clothes, and soon, all flow of things stopped. Everything was frozen in place. All time was stopped.
Galadriel looked around and smiled, watching everyone frozen in place. "Uh, Lyanna, try to fix your hair," Galadriel muttered, slowly moving her little sister's hair to look more presentable. Soon enough, she flew down before sighing.
"Albedo," Galadriel called, and from the shadows, Albedo appeared, finally revealing herself, and from the looks of it. She looked glad that she could be there with her beautiful lady finally.
"Ah! My love!" Albedo quickly went and hugged Galadriel tightly, landing a kiss on the white-haired woman's lips. Galadriel chuckled before going ahead with what she had in mind.
"Please, Albedo, later," Galadriel said before looking at the two men. "Impressive for humans, that is..."
Albedo scoffed as she looked at both of them. "Pathetic, slow, and incapable of finishing a fight quickly."
"They aren't like us," Galadriel replied, watching both frozen figures. Stopped in the middle of their fight. "They are feeble, weak, fragile."
Galadriel then observed how Robert's sword scratched Rhaegar's chest, but Rhaegar's sword was also close to Robert's helmet. Not a fatal blow by either.
But it showed how close each other was to the edge of death. And if not stopped, it only takes one movement, one thrust with the sword and all it would be over.
"My lady," Albedo spoke. "If I could speak freely."
"You may, Albedo."
"It is necessary to... wed this human...?" Albedo hissed quietly before Galadriel chuckled at how disgusted the Succubus looked. She understood why, of course.
"I would be marrying you, Albedo. Not him... Rhaegar would be long gone from this world when that happened," Galadriel smiled but recalled her plans. She wanted the Stark family to grow, to become more of what they were. But also, she wanted to craft a perfect platform for her to work from toward her end goal, not only cleansing the world of those old gods but finding Nazarick and, more importantly. Galadriel was a Demon Empress, and any empress needed an empire; otherwise, such a title was meaningless.
But Galadriel wouldn't lie if she said that such a path was quite icky. It was the safest bet, the most logical and intelligent approach, in the sense that, Albedo and her could easily take reign of the Seven Kingdoms from the shadows. Portraying themselves as a sort of power couple that would take the Targaryen dynasty to new heights.
Albedo would take the role of Rhaegar, while the prince would be long dead before their marriage truly began. So, it wasn't as if she would marry a man at all.
Also, Galadriel could make her family, the Stark, into a global powerhouse. If she had any children with Albedo, they could marry them to any of Galadriel sibling's children. Of course, that was in the future. But that idea made Galadriel quite intriguing.
Then, their children would have Yggdrasil magic. The Stark family would become magical. Galadriel saw it as quite the advantage for the future expansions she planned for her future empire. Yet, when thinking about the future, Galadriel's heart slumped at what awaited her.
"Albedo, we are immortals, right?" Galadriel asked as Albedo tilted her head, a bit confused. "I'll never die of old age, unlike my mortal family."
Albedo soon realised what was bothering her lady. She had arrived at a time when her beloved was experiencing something she never had, and it would be cruel to take that away from her dear lady. But at the same time, Albedo wanted to remind Galadriel of who she was and would always be. A Demon, an immortal being, evil and never-ending source of power.
"Age doesn't bother us, yes. You have reached maturity here already. Yet, you're not human, my love. You will never be. Decades may go by, and you'll look the same as today," Albedo answered, choosing her words carefully.
"I'll live to see my siblings grow old," Galadriel whispered, hating those words. "Even with the potions and magic I have used on them. They may live longer than a normal human, but just for a few more decades, perhaps. Still, they will grow old. So will my father and mother. They will die. That's... unavoidable."
"Unless you somehow find a way to make them immortal..."
Galadriel considered the proposal, but when she looked at the group of people sitting together, she realised that it wasn't the right fit for them. It also didn't feel like the right fit for her. And it wasn't as if she couldn't contemplate such an idea. But to do so, Galadriel would've to rip their family choices away to make them monsters, only for her not to lose them. She couldn't do that to them, never to them.
"Doing so would require items we don't have at hand. And to show myself for what I am," Galadriel sighed. "I will not put them through this. But also, that's in the future. Maybe, I'll change my mind. Or perhaps, I won't. Nevertheless, it is a bridge for another day."
Galadriel was sure of that, at the very least. If she comes with the opportunity to change them, she would ask them if they would like a choice, something she would not take away from them.
Albedo only closed her eyes, nodding at her. "As you wish."
"Now," Galadriel said, focusing her eyes on both men fighting for her. "I was thinking of using Robert's Baratheon's rage for something good."
"Oh, like what?" Albedo asked, intrigued.
"Mm, I don't know yet," Galadriel muttered. "I would like to hear what Pandora's Actor has to say too. But I feel we could definitely find a way to use him to our advantage. Otherwise, it would be quite boring, don't you think?"
Albedo raised an eyebrow as Galadriel smirked at her. "It's true. If I were to become the King of the Seven Kingdoms and solidify my rule, wouldn't it be great to show how capable of a leader I am?"
"Exactly, but also, to eliminate those who would be our enemies. Clean the land, so to speak," Galadriel added.
"We could always just destroy them all," Albedo replied amusedly.
Galadriel was about to answer with a sassy remark before humming deeply. "Destroy them all...? There was the Dance of Dragons and the Blackfyre Rebellions. Don't you think having a war as a show would be good?"
"Oh, what is your plan?" Albedo asked, now intrigued.
"We have a Mad King, burning people left and right. A Crown Prince deep into his own deliriums of grandeur and dreams and is fixated on me. A drunkard warmonger who hates all Targaryen and is infatuated with me, also. And a bunch of noble houses who are jealous of the North's sudden riches and power. Don't you think we have a perfect recipe for disaster?"
Albedo then smiled brightly. "We do."
"Yeah, that we do, Albedo, that we do."
"I guess I should learn how to act as this human called Robert, too, just in case."
"It's not going to be that hard, Albedo. But yeah, you should do, just like you say... just in case. Let's meet up with Pandora's Actor after this. We have a lot to talk about."
"Of course, my love."
Galadriel nodded and was ready to let the Time Stop ability end before looking at both knights. "Mm, Albedo, between these two. Who do you think is going to win?"
Albedo just glanced at them with disdain but with a thoughtful gaze. "Truthfully. I think the Baratheon Lord."
"Oh, truly?" Galadriel replied, surprised by Albedo's choice. "Why do you think that?"
"The prince desires to emerge victorious in the combat, while the Baratheon lord aims to take the prince's life. Their motives for fighting are distinct."
Galadriel hummed, now understanding why Albedo gave Robert the edge. "True. Fury makes humans quite decisive. But we can't have Robert kill the prince now. We need them alive for a while."
Galadriel touched Robert and muttered, "[Drain Stamina] That would be sufficient."
"Now, let's see the end of this."
Galadriel then returned to her chair and broke another item; time suddenly flowed again.
Robert's body became unsteady, and he felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion that seemed to come out of nowhere. He couldn't quite comprehend what was happening to him. Just moments before, he was gripping his sword with ferocity and determination, ready to defeat the Targaryen prince. But now, he was completely drained of all energy, finding it difficult even to take a proper breath.
"Fuck!" He hissed as Rhaegar took the opportunity of this particular moment and pushed Robert to the ground, aiming his sword at his face and kicking Robert's sword away.
"Yield!" Rhaegar gasped, clearly exhausted too. "Yield now!"
The anger Robert felt at that moment, the pure raw fury, was beyond what he had felt before. Yet no matter how much he tried to stand up. Robert couldn't even move, and he tried. Honestly, Robert tried for a few seconds before letting out a loud, frustrating roar before accepting his defeat.
"I yield," Robert hissed slowly.
Rhaegar then moved away before the crowd began to cheer loudly. The prince has never felt so exhausted in his life. Truly, he felt as if Robert wanted to kill him, and perhaps he did try to. But Rhaegar wasn't going to fall into that trap. He may not like the Baratheon Lord, but Rhaegar won't kill another person just because of a joust. He won't give his father that joy.
Rhaegar simply sighed before taking a wreath of flowers and walking towards Galadriel.
"My prince," Galadriel whispered softly, clearly relieved to see him alive, or at least that's how it looked to him.
"My lady, I find no one else more worthy of this title than you," Rhaegar whispered before crowning her the Queen of Love and Beauty. "You are the most beautiful woman in all Westeros, and I will dare to say in all the world."
Oh, I know that. Galadriel thought, almost snorting. Although, you should see my beautiful Succubus Lover, Rhaegar.
"My prince, I thank you for those kind words," Galadriel replied, trying to sound the most girly as possible.
"Lord Stark," Rhaegar then glanced at Rickard, who showcased the famous Stark glare. "I swear to all Gods, old and new, that I will treat your daughter with nothing but love and respect. And that I'll cherish her for the rest of my life.
Rickard's eyebrow twitched, but after a few seconds, he only sighed. "Thank you... my prince."
Rhaegar then kissed Galadriel's knuckles before walking away.
"Prick," Lyanna whispered before Lyarra's foot crushed her daughter's toes, causing Lyanan to let a slight squeal of pain.
Galadriel just chuckled internally as she saw Rhaegar going away.
You could've died right there. But in anycase, it doesn't matter. You're just a pawn for me, Rhaegar. You and Robert. All of you will serve me well... now, I just need to see what sort of game we should play.
Galadriel could feel many lords and ladies watching her. She could feel the King's eyes on her. Plots and schemes, all against her, all wanting to win the Game of Thrones. It didn't matter to Galadriel since she would always win.
Westeros would never be the same after this tourney. All would change in the following weeks.
Authors note-
-Robert or Rhaegar?
One to follow canon (Sort of) to show some Stag power or one to make Targaryen Dynasty Great Again?
Tell me what you think.