Early 290 AC - Lannisport
The sun was just beginning to rise over the encampment at Lannisport, casting a golden hue over the tents and pavilions. Knights and squires were already bustling about, preparing for the day's tilts, but in a quieter corner, Prince Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard sought a moment of familial connection. Clad in his white armor, the Dornish prince walked with the grace and assurance that came with years of service and a lifetime of martial prowess.
Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne, was already awake, sharpening his spear with methodical precision. His dark eyes flickered up as Lewyn approached. Nearby, Princess Arianne Martell, the heiress of Dorne and eldest daughter of Prince Doran, stood watching the preparations with a keen interest. Her dark, curly hair fell over her shoulders, and her striking, intelligent eyes took in everything around her.
"Uncle," Oberyn greeted Lewyn with a nod, his tone respectful yet casual. "Up early, I see."
"A habit I've never been able to break," Lewyn replied with a small smile. He turned to Arianne, who looked up at him with a mixture of fondness and respect. "Arianne, my dear, it's been too long. How are you?"
Arianne smiled brightly, memories of her great-uncle tickling her until she could barely breathe flashing in her mind. "I'm well, Uncle Lewyn. It's good to see you. Are you ready for the tilts today?"
Lewyn chuckled. "As ready as I'll ever be, though I think my days of competing are long behind me. I prefer to leave the glory to younger men like you, Oberyn."
Oberyn smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, someone has to keep the Martell name in the lists."
Lewyn's expression softened as he looked at his niece and nephew. "Have you heard from Elia recently? How is she faring with her husband, Lord Baelor Hightower?"
Oberyn and Arianne exchanged a glance. Arianne spoke first. "Elia is well, Uncle. She and Baelor seem to be happy together. They have two children now, Gerald and Alerie. Elia writes often, and she seems content with her life in Oldtown."
Lewyn nodded, a smile of relief crossing his face. "I'm glad to hear it. Elia deserves happiness after all she's endured."
Oberyn's expression darkened momentarily, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Contentment is a rare thing in this world. But if anyone deserves it, it's Elia."
Lewyn placed a reassuring hand on Oberyn's shoulder. "I know you worry for her, Oberyn. But she is strong, as are her children. And she has a good man in Baelor."
Arianne nodded in agreement. "I've always admired how close our family is, despite everything. Elia's strength inspires me, as do you, Uncle."
Lewyn looked down at Arianne with pride. "You have grown into a remarkable young woman, Arianne. Your father must be proud."
Arianne's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "Thank you, Uncle. I strive to live up to our family's legacy."
The three Martells stood in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. The morning air was cool, carrying the scent of the sea and the sounds of the bustling camp. Lewyn's mind wandered back to the days when Arianne was just a little girl, laughing as he tickled her.
"I remember when you were a child, Arianne," Lewyn said, a smile tugging at his lips. "You used to laugh so hard when I tickled you that I thought you might stop breathing."
Arianne laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "Those were some of my happiest memories, Uncle. You always knew how to make me laugh."
Oberyn chuckled, shaking his head. "Lewyn the Jester, who would have thought?"
Lewyn grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sometimes, laughter is the best way to keep the darkness at bay."
The conversation turned to the future, and the hopes they held for their family and for Dorne. Lewyn looked at Arianne with a thoughtful expression. "You are the future of Dorne, Arianne. When the time comes, you will be a great ruler. Remember to be strong, but also just and kind."
Arianne nodded, her expression serious. "I will, Uncle. I will honor our family and lead Dorne with wisdom and strength."
Oberyn placed a hand on his niece's shoulder. "And you will have our support, always. Family is everything."
Lewyn felt a swell of pride and hope as he looked at his kin. The future was uncertain, but with family by his side, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the camp came fully to life. The sounds of horses, armor, and the voices of knights preparing for the tilts filled the air. Lewyn, Oberyn, and Arianne walked together towards the lists, ready to face the day and the challenges it would bring.
The bond between them was unbreakable, forged by love, loyalty, and shared history. And as they prepared to meet the day, they knew that whatever happened, they would face it together.
The opening ceremonies began with great fanfare. Trumpets blared, announcing the arrival of King Rhaegar Targaryen and his family. The king, resplendent in his royal attire, led the procession, followed by Queen Rhaella, their children, and the gathered lords and ladies of the realm. The crowd erupted in cheers as the royal family took their seats in the grandstand.
Prince Viserys Targaryen, wearing his older brother Rhaegar's armor, looked every bit the warrior prince. The night-black plate armor, adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen in rubies on its breastplate, gleamed in the sunlight. Golden ringmail glinted beneath the plate, and his helm was decorated with gold, orange, and red silken streamers resembling flames.
Rhaegar's mother, Rhaella Targaryen, watched with pride, hoping her youngest son would emerge victorious. Beside her, Rhaegar himself cast a supportive glance at his brother, while his wife, Rhaelle Baratheon, whispered her hopes that her brother, Robert, would win the tourney.
The initial jousts began with a flourish. Knights rode out to the field, introduced one by one, their armor and banners reflecting the colors and symbols of their houses. The crowd roared its approval as the first pairs of knights took their places at opposite ends of the lists.
Among the early contenders, Prince Viserys faced Garlan Tyrell, the younger brother to the heir of the Reach, Willas Tyrell. Garlan, known for his skill and precision, was a formidable opponent. The two knights charged at each other, lances aimed true.
Viserys, though less experienced, rode with a fierce determination. The first tilt saw both knights land solid blows, but neither was unhorsed. The crowd watched in tense silence as they lined up for the second tilt. This time, Garlan's lance struck Viserys's shield with a resounding crack, but the young prince managed to stay in the saddle.
On the third pass, fortune favored Viserys. Garlan's lance glanced off Viserys's breastplate, while Viserys's own lance struck Garlan's helm, unhorsing the Tyrell knight. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Viserys, though shaken, raised his lance in victory.
In the grandstand, Rhaella beamed with pride, while Rhaelle Baratheon applauded politely, though her hopes were still pinned on her brother. Rhaegar smiled, pleased with his brother's performance.
The jousts continued throughout the afternoon, with notable matches drawing gasps and cheers from the crowd. One of the most anticipated matches of the day was between Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and Edmure Tully, the heir to Riverrun.
Arthur Dayne, clad in the distinctive white armor of the Kingsguard, was a figure of legendary skill and valor. His greatsword, Dawn, was not used in the joust, but its presence was felt in the way he carried himself – with the grace and confidence of a true knight. Edmure Tully, with his auburn hair and broad-shouldered build, looked determined as he took his place.
In the stands, Lynesse Hightower watched with keen interest. She had heard tales of Ser Arthur's prowess, but it was Edmure who had caught her eye. His earnestness and bravery had left a strong impression on her.
The two knights charged, their lances aimed with precision. The first tilt saw both men land solid blows, but neither was unhorsed. The crowd erupted in applause, impressed by the skill displayed. Lynesse's heart raced as she watched Edmure circle back for the second pass.
This time, Ser Arthur's lance struck true, hitting Edmure squarely and knocking him back. Edmure managed to stay in the saddle, but it was clear the blow had been hard. Lynesse gripped the edge of her seat, her eyes never leaving Edmure's form.
On the third pass, Arthur's skill proved superior. His lance struck Edmure's shield with such force that the Tully heir was unhorsed, landing heavily on the ground. The crowd gasped, then erupted in cheers for Ser Arthur.
Edmure, winded but unbroken, rose to his feet. He removed his helm, revealing a determined expression. The crowd's applause was for his valor as much as it was for Arthur's victory. Lynesse felt her admiration for Edmure grow even more. Despite his defeat, he had shown great courage and resilience.
As Edmure walked off the field, Lynesse made her way to him. "Ser Edmure," she called softly, her voice carrying a hint of concern.
Edmure turned, a surprised but pleased look crossing his face. "Lady Lynesse, I did not expect to see you here."
She smiled, her eyes full of warmth. "I could not miss the chance to see such bravery. You fought well, Ser Edmure. I admire your courage."
Edmure bowed slightly, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. "Thank you, my lady. Your words mean a great deal to me."
Lynesse's attraction to Edmure deepened as she saw the humility and honor in his eyes. "I hope we can speak more during the feast tonight," she said, her voice gentle.
"I would like that very much, my lady," Edmure replied, a hopeful smile spreading across his face.
As the sun began to set, the jousts came to a close for the day. The field was cleared, and preparations for the evening feast began. Long tables were set up in the great hall of Lannisport, laden with food and drink. The lords and ladies gathered to celebrate the day's events, their laughter and conversation filling the air.
Prince Viserys, still clad in his armor, received congratulations from his family and friends. He approached his brother Rhaegar, who clasped his shoulder proudly. "Well done, Viserys. You rode with great courage."
"Thank you, Rhaegar," Viserys replied, his voice filled with gratitude and determination. "I will do my best to honor our house."
Nearby, Arianne Martell watched with interest. She approached Viserys, her steps confident and graceful. "Prince Viserys, your performance today was most impressive."
Viserys turned to her, a smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Princess Arianne. Your words mean a great deal."
Arianne's eyes sparkled with mischief and admiration. "Let us speak more during the feast. I would like to hear about your training and your experiences."
Viserys nodded, intrigued by her attention. "I would be honored, Princess."
The feast that night was a grand affair, filled with music, dancing, and merriment. The hall was decorated with the banners of the participating houses, and the air was thick with the aromas of roasted meats and spiced wines.
King Rhaegar and Queen Rhaella presided over the festivities, their presence a reminder of the unity and strength of the realm. Conversations flowed freely, and alliances were strengthened over shared stories and laughter.
As the night wore on, Viserys and Arianne found a quiet corner to talk. They spoke of their homes, their families, and their hopes for the future. Arianne's admiration for Viserys grew with each passing moment, her crush deepening into genuine affection.
Meanwhile, Ser Arthur Dayne and Robert Baratheon shared a drink, discussing the day's matches and their strategies for the days to come. The camaraderie among the knights was evident, a testament to the chivalric spirit of the tourney.
Edmure Tully, though defeated, found solace in the company of Lynesse Hightower. They spoke at length, finding common ground and a budding attraction that promised to grow stronger in the days ahead.
Rhaella Targaryen's hopes for her son, Viserys, remained high, while Rhaegar continued to support his friend, Ser Arthur Dayne. Rhaelle Baratheon looked forward to seeing her brother, Robert, compete in the days ahead.
And as Viserys Targaryen drifted off to sleep that night, his thoughts were filled with the day's triumphs and the promise of what the future might hold, both on the field and with the captivating Arianne Martell.