Ser Ciaphas of House Cain Ch.5

RHAENYRA I: THE REALM’S DELIGHT, THE REALM’S DESPAIR

“Old or Drowned, Seven-in-One or Fourteen Flames, the gods will always have surprises in store for us. ’Tis the way of life, of grief, and of triumph. ’Tis how we act and react that defines us as faithful.

“Sometimes, even the smallest of men have pivotal roles to play. Sometimes, even the largest will fade into obscurity. And, when the time comes for immortality after death, it only takes one man to remember a legend and pass down a story.

“So here, today, I drive you to remember those who lost, those who won, those who sacrificed and stood tall, so that we may never forget the surprises our gods had in store.”

— Septon Jon of the Stony Sept, in his famous sermon on remembrance over the ashes.

— Rhaenyra Targaryen —

Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of the Iron Throne, Realm’s Delight, found her interest piqued like never, like nothing before. 

The tourney was one of celebration and vindication for the realm, for her family. Today would certainly be a day to remember. Already, it bore all the twists and turns, surprises and successes, that such a momentous event required. Demanded, even. Smallfolk and nobles alike were entertained by revelry that wouldn’t soon be matched. Only fitting for the celebration that heralded her brother’s arrival into the world (even if Rhaenyra still held out hope for a little sister…).

Father bore a crown on his head, and soon, he would have his heir. Then… Mother might rest, for once. Then… Mother might have time to spare for her eldest daughter, for her new son (or daughter), for duties other than those of a wife.

Or so Rhaenyra hoped. More and more, she found herself dreaming of full and comfortable days with her mother. Of days between her nigh constant pregnancies, so trying each time. Of days when expectation and duty didn’t weigh so heavily on the queen, when Aemma Arryn was free to simply be…

They stood at the top of the realm: a queen, a princess. Yet the ‘Woman’s Battlefield’, as Mother termed it, waited for no woman. Rhaenyra had seen the ravages of duty more clearly than most anyone. She watched life drain from Mother’s being with Father’s seemingly endless pursuit of an heir. She witnessed something within her crack further and further with each stillbirth and each loss.

Rhaenyra wouldn’t damn her worst enemy to that fate, much less her own mother. But even royalty, it seemed, bore the Mother’s chains, the Maiden’s fears, and the Crone’s grief. To herself, Rhaenyra often vowed that fate wouldn’t await her. She wouldn’t suffer such chains, such fears, such grief.

Perhaps that led to some youthful rebellion. But she was a princess, and thus, entitled to such. None could gainsay her but her father, the King. And Rhaenyra knew how to play him well so that he chose to indulge her, rather than punish. While she still could, Rhaenyra Targaryen would live.

And so, she carried on as she always had, even as her world prepared to change so utterly with the arrival of a royal heir. Dear Alicent was a constant companion by her side, and her Velaryon cousins always brought so much lively fun with them when they stayed in the Red Keep. Syrax was her wings, ensuring she stayed free to taste the sky as a Targaryen should. Even noble Harrold Westerling was more a comfort than a limitation as her sworn King’s Guard.

Now, however, something outside her free existence called to Rhaenyra. Something new, something fascinating, a gripping story, and an exhilarating victory. A development none could’ve predicted, yet all were already taken by. A surprise most pleasant.

The Heir’s Tourney brought people to King’s Landing from far and wide. Knights and noble ladies from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, even a rare few from Dorne or the North. Whatever passed for nobility in the slaving Free Cities, and more palatable examples of aristocracy from Braavos. Even exotic Summer Islanders and remnants of Old Valyria from Volantis. The whole world seemed to gather in the heart of the Seven Kingdoms.

But the talk of the day, of the week, was focused most keenly on only two. A lady and her sworn man, returning from exile in parts unknown. Amberley Vail and Ciaphas Cain.

Few, if any, would’ve known of them before the tourney, but now, Rhaenyra suspected none would forget their names. Not even the simplest of smallfolk, for they must love their stories just as much as the realm’s nobles do.

Part of Rhaenyra’s mind had to admit to the brilliance of it all. A Mystery Knight and the grand reveal of a tragic story at the event of the year. There were few better ways to win over the hearts of the realm. If it was a scheme, that is. Neither of them struck her as the type, though.

Ciaphas Cain was a dashing and heroic man of obvious standing. It was in the way he carried himself and the actions she’d seen from him so far. If he were capable of telling such a mummer’s tale, she wouldn’t bet on it. His martial skill was certainly no lie.

And while Amberley Vail seemed to be of a more subtle bearing, she also lived her story in a way only the truth could bring about. From what Rhaenyra had seen of her, Lady Amberley had an air of tragedy and strength to her that rang true with her claims of exile and the life of hardship she must’ve lived.

Their story itself belonged in a song, to be sure, but elements of it were grounded in reality, still. The Ironborn left scars everywhere their brutal axes fell. The Riverlands bore those scars perhaps most of all. It was only feasible that a noble house was forcefully evicted from their lands and home, and almost erased from history, in that awful era before Aegon arrived.

The idea of exile at the hands of the ignoble Hoares was terrible. The tribulations House Vail must’ve experienced in exile since were almost more so. Of course, they would attempt to return to Westeros. Nowhere else in the world was worth a damn, by Rhaenyra’s reckoning.

She was glad Father had deigned to invite Lady Amberley to sit in the royal box. It brought one of the objects of her interest into close proximity. They’d watch the other object of her interest together, Rhaenyra decided.

King and Council pulled a more extensive telling of her story from Lady Amberley. Rhaenyra listened with half an ear, mostly waiting for a lapse in conversation she could swoop in on. Lord Lyonel Strong, her father’s Master of Laws, made an interesting statement (one wouldn’t find many lords willing to give up land to an exiled house), but ultimately, the conversation was put off for a better time. And that was when Rhaenyra invited Amberley and her ladies to join her, Alicent, and the Velaryon scions in the front row.

Introductions went well, as they always would’ve. A Princess of the Realm couldn’t be bad at making friends. The very idea was absurd! And when Amberley’s Ser Ciaphas was called onto the tilting field, they all cheered for him. It was simply the right thing to do, sitting next to the man’s lady. Rhaenyra could admit she likely would’ve done so anyway, however. The champion of the melee, the Knight of the Singing Duel, was too fascinating a figure to deny…

When Rhaenyra asked after the knight on the field, Lady Amberley shared a few facts of note. Unbelievably, this was his first tourney. His clearly displayed skills must’ve been earned… elsewhere…

The thought sent Rhaenyra’s blood racing, her nerves soaring in anticipation. He had to be a man of experience, of danger, of glory, by what Amberley shared. What an absolutely thrilling character~…

He emerged victorious from his tilt, of course. Rhaenyra was already coming to expect nothing less from the man. And she hadn’t even spoken to him yet! That… That was a disgrace that urgently needed to be rectified.

So when Ser Ciaphas honorably bowed out from the rest of the lists, Rhaenyra took the opportunity to invite him to join his lady. Father had been called away for some concern or another, and so, in the royal box, Rhaenyra spoke with his voice.

The power felt… right. Fitting, like a silken shift on a nubile body. None denied the object of her fascination his chance of coming to her side.

Up close, the man seemed even more heroic. A certain aura practically poured off him. It radiated in his posture, in his winning smile, and in his dashing looks. Not even dear Alicent was immune to the man’s charisma. When he smiled at her (and Rhaenyra, of course), Alicent blushed brilliantly.

‘She always looks best with a touch of color on her cheeks…’ Rhaenyra considered with amusement and a small flutter in her stomach. ’Not that I can blame or fault her for this moment of coloring.’

“Ciaphas,” Lady Amberley greeted her man. “Ser Ciaphas… You did well.”

“All in your name, Amberley,” Ser Ciaphas replied without a single moment of hesitation.

That teasing, almost sheepish grin could’ve raised the dead or awakened lust across a whole motherhouse. Truly, Ser Ciaphas was a beautifully dangerous man on more fields than just the battlefield.

The look Laena shared with her from the corner of her eyes showed Rhaenyra she wasn’t the only one to realize it. Poor, dear Alicent and good, trusting Laenor, however, were already taken by him. They would need a touch of protection here…

And so, of course, Rhaenyre was the first to put herself right into the dashing champion’s path, “Ser Ciaphas. Thank you for joining us. You’ve made quite the name for yourself here already, even if you’d try to claim the fame for another. Please, join us. We’d love to hear your side of Lady Amberley’s story.”

Ciaphas gave a shallow, playful bow, “If the princess insists, who am I to refuse?”

Oh… Oh, yes~…

Rhaenyra couldn’t easily deny the delightful shiver those words sent through her, “Who, indeed~?”

He sat beside his lady. Below, the tourney continued. But the younger generation in the royal box only had eyes for the champion among them. Rhaenyra assessed the man and quickly found herself liking what she saw. He was tall, well-built, and handsome of feature. His prominent side-burns were striking and framing, but not too distracting from his rugged and attractively scarred face. Everything added together perfectly, like a maester’s sums, into a truly thrilling portrait.

Another tilt began on the field below. But Rhaenyra, Alicent, Laena, and Laenor just listened closely as Ciaphas sighed and spun his side of the story.

“I’m not sure you’ll find my version of things all that interesting, to be honest,” He said. “Amberley has always been where the power truly resides between the two of us. It was chance that brought us together, and chance that kept her so fond of me afterward.”

Amberley rolled her eyes, “Of course. And your unique brand of heroics had nothing to do with it.”

Despite the clear sarcasm, Ciaphas chuckled, “By my reckoning, that’s very true, my lady.”

“Yes, well, you’re humble, Ciaphas,” Amberley pointedly retorted. “To a fault. Don’t be so quick to believe his humility, Your Grace. During our first meeting, he recognized me as someone worth knowing while I was in disguise and effectively defused the tension in the room after an ill-timed assassination.”

“By the Seven…!” Alicent gasped.

“That…” Ciaphas seemed to hesitate. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it…”

“My, my, an adventure to hear already~?” Laena purred with interest.

“An assassination?” Rhaenyra asked, not bothering to hide how thrilled she was. “Just an attempt, or was it successful? Was it aimed at you, Lady Amberley?”

“Oh, it was successful,” Ciaphas almost snorted, shaking his head. “And it caused many a problem for everyone going forward. Amberley, however, was not the target. We both just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Right,” Amberley corrected. “The ‘right’ place, at the ‘right’ time.”

“Yes,” Ciaphas deadpanned right back. “Because our inevitable pursuit of the assassins certainly didn’t drag us into terrible, life-threatening danger at all. A result to celebrate, to be sure.”

“It was,” Amberley said with no small exasperation. “You seem to be willfully leaving out how that whole affair helped divert a minor war, Ciaphas.”

“I am,” Ciaphas freely admitted. “Like many other situations, I try not to dwell on it and drive myself dull on what could’ve been.”

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but giggle at their ease of being beside each other, “Good ser, good lady, the two of you are simply wonderful together. A treat, I must say. If just a few moments of your company are this amusing, I may just have to invite you to stay for good!”

“We’ve only met them recently, too, Your Grace,” Lady Jonquil Tyrell giggled along with her. “But I have to agree. My ladies and I have already grown quite fond.”

A brief instant of jealousy flared from the dragonfire in her blood. A princess’s, a Dragon’s, claim would always reign over a mere Rose. The good ser and good lady were HER objects of interest!

But Rhaenyra didn’t let the irrational flare show, instead reveling in the emotion, in feeling. Unwarranted, fleeting jealousy turned to a tummy-tingling thrill, and Rhaenyra was left feeling more alive than before~…

If anything, she rather… enjoyed… the sensation~…

“With Ciaphas, there’s never a dull moment to be found,” Amberley praised with a well-accustomed sigh. “For good, or bad, or worse. I’m afraid I can’t recommend his company to a princess, however.”

“Oh? And whyever not, my lady?” Rhaenyra asked, half torn between offense and curiosity.

Amberley flashed her a grin and an answer that soothed what little offense bloomed from being denied, “Just because he’s bound to drag you into danger and adventures you could’ve otherwise avoided without him.”

Instead of frowning, Rhaenyra found herself grinning widely, “All the more reason to keep him close, then! A princess deserves only the most interesting life, don’t you think~?”

“Rhaenyra…” Alicent, dear Alicent, murmured caution.

“An interesting life is all well and good…” Ciaphas sighed. “Until it becomes an interesting death, that is.”

Was that longing Rhaenyra heard in his tone? Ah, but of course. A man like him wouldn’t be satisfied with sitting around and doing nothing at all. He must long for the danger he seemed to attract.

Rhaenyra’s grin widened as she caught that glimpse into his true character. Dangerous. Thrilling. Beautiful…

“I’m sure a champion like you, Ser Ciaphas, could protect even a princess,” She praised and assured him. “And I am no defenseless flower — no offense meant, Lady Jonquil — but a dragonrider. Syrax would eagerly join you in my defense.”

“I’m… sure your dragon would…” For just a moment, Ciaphas’s expression became pained.

Rhaenyra wondered after the flash of emotion before realization struck her with a laugh, “Aha~! Don’t worry your pride, Ser Ciaphas. I’m sure Syrax would leave plenty of glory for you.”

That seemed to soothe Ciaphas’s Warrior spirit if the small, stiff, and potentially eager smile he sent her way was anything to go by, “… Thank you, Princess, for your consideration. And… give my gratitude to Syrax as well for such a hypothetical.”

“That’d be a pairing I’d eagerly watch in action,” Laena tittered. “The Princess’s Dragon and the Knight of the Singing Duel, fighting assassins side by side.”

“A match made in the Seven Heavens,” Laenor laughed. “For that unique blade of yours can certainly roar like a dragon, Ser Ciaphas!”

Ciaphas just sheepishly scratched the back of his head, “Aha… ha… You praise me more than I deserve…”

“After your showing here, how could they not?” Amberley pointed out, smirking slightly.

“Boast more, good ser,” Rhaenyra insisted, nodding along with Amberley’s point. “Other men wouldn’t be able to shut their mouths in your position. And while your humility does you a refreshing credit, you are more than allowed to have pride in your achievements, your glories.”

“Truly, a legend has been made this tourney,” Lady Sonya Crane opined. “Your duel with Lord Serwyn Corbray won’t be forgotten anytime soon, nor your knighting by the king, nor the roar of your blade, Ser Ciaphas.”

Ciaphas simply smiled, “I only did as my lady required of me.”

A man of contradictions, Rhaenyra saw. A man of great skill and even greater humility. A man who could easily stand on his own, but who also paid the proper homage to his lady. Ciaphas was a fascinating puzzle to pick apart.

And while Rhaenyra wouldn’t name him a liar, she suspected he was hiding his truth behind that humility. Deep down, he simply must be reveling in glory and victory and the fires of proving himself before the realm. Rhaenyra certainly would be.

‘Half true to himself, and half a mask,’ Rhaenyra considered to herself. ‘He’s a humble man, but not that humble. Danger, Greatness, Fire… must run through his veins. With that roaring sword of his, he’s almost half a dragon. Yet he’s also intelligent and willful enough to keep it on tightly gripped reins. What a man~…’

“Ciaphas’s victory is only the beginning,” Amberley shared. “I suspect we’ll be formally presenting our story before the crown soon enough. I’ll admit… I long for a home to call my own…”

Rhaenyra nodded at that, deciding then and there… “Your petition shall have my support, good lady, good ser. Surely, a noble lady and her proven champion deserve a place in our realm.”

“It’ll be a popular decision if made,” Alicent mused aloud, considering the politics of the situation. “The restoration of an exiled and erased noble house. It shows the crown values even the most forgotten of lords and ladies. My father may have advised caution earlier, but I don’t believe he’s truly against the idea. Especially not if Lord Lyonel’s suggestion and offer come to fruition.”

… Sometimes, in the safety of her mind, Rhaenyra imagined herself as queen with dear Alicent as her Hand. Like father, like daughter, they would be brilliant.

But, of course, it was just a fleeting daydream. Fantasy, not reality. Though in the same paintbrush strokes of her mind, she saw Laena and Laenor at her side — cousins, kin, without the wedges of the past generation to drive them apart…

As she daydreamed the fantasy for just a moment once more, she saw something new. Previous iterations had her uncle and his Dark Sister as her most steadfast allies, serving as her sword to the realm. Now, however, a new sword emerged, roaring like a dragon, and a slightly older, more worldly and well-traveled lady stood at her side, advising her reign.

Especially with Ser Ciaphas and Lady Amberley sworn by her side, it was an appealing scene, that much Rhaenyra couldn’t deny, but likely never to be…

“Suggestion? Offer?” Ciaphas asked.

Amberley smirked, “Just as you’ve been busy on the field, Ciaphas, I’ve been busy up here in the box. The king and his council heard our story. And one Lord Lyonel Strong seems to be most moved by it. He advocated for restoring House Vail, and even offered to do so in his lands, at his expense, as a way to set right old scars upon his kingdom.”

Ciaphas blinked, “That… That is very good news, isn’t it? Lord Lyonel sounds like a great ally to have on our side.”

“His is,” Laenor nodded. “A just and upright man, as is only fitting for the Master of Laws. And I’m sure my father and mother could be persuaded to at least hear out your petition, as well, if you find yourself in need of more support.”

“It might cost you a few dozen of your adventuring stories and detailed descriptions of all you’ve seen, though,” Laena japed.

Ciaphas chuckled, “For more support on an issue this vital, I think that’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Others would like to hear some of those stories, too, you know,” Rhaenyra not-so-subtly hinted.

“Perhaps at a better time and place, Princess,” Ciaphas shot her a winning, slightly apologetic smile. “Even the shortest of them would be a bit too much to get into here and now. I won’t refuse, of course, but a bit of preparation time wouldn’t be remiss, either.”

“Fine,” Rhaenyra sniffed imperiously. “You may have your time to prepare, so long as you swear your stories will be something to be remembered and retold for as long as I live.”

“That…” Ciaphas’s winning smile seemed to grow slightly strained.

“Oh, that won’t be difficult in the slightest,” Amberley chortled.

“No… No, of course, it won’t,” Ciaphas rallied quickly (as he should when it came to pleasing her, Rhaenyra nodded to herself) and the tension of potential disappointment fell away from him at his lady’s reassurance and confidence.

Already, Rhaenyra was rather personally thrilled by the prospect of such a dashing and experienced man — a warrior, a champion — regaling her — his princess — with stories, unheard and unmatched. She had very, very high expectations for Ser Ciaphas Cain~…

“You’ll make a mummer out of our champion, Rhaenyra dear,” Laena giggled.

“Nothing of the sort!” Rhaenyra gasped playfully. “I would never dismiss such a noble knight so cruelly~…”

“My condolences, Ser Ciaphas,” Laenor shared an amused shake of his head with Ciaphas. “My darling cousin is rather demanding, isn’t she?”

“I’d be almost offended if she wasn’t,” Ciaphas admitted, laughing good-naturedly. “I would hate for her to find me uninteresting.”

‘Good man~…’ Rhaenyra almost smirked and purred before mastering herself. ‘As you should, even if it was always guaranteed for you to find yourself taken with a princess, a Dragon…’

She didn’t let her nigh hedonistic revelry at the thought show, of course, instead imperiously stating, “For that, good ser, you have no need to worry. No need, at all,” 

Alicent nodded her agreement, “You and your lady have certainly taken the tourney by storm and story, Ser Ciaphas.”

“And I’m glad to be able to entertain,” Ciaphas smiled that winning, tummy-fluttering smile of his. “Especially in more subtle and civilized ways, now. I think I’ve had enough fighting for the week. I’d much rather sit by Amberley’s side and enjoy the honor of a royal invitation.”

A lie, Rhaenyra suspected, for the sake of their ladylike sensibilities (and Laenor, she supposed…). A man like Ciaphas could never have enough fighting, never have enough victory, and glory, and blood-racing, flame-fanning violence. But he was well-mannered enough to misdirect from that truth of himself.

Alicent visibly appreciated a man with more to him than simply fighting. Rhaenyra had to admit that it appealed to her as well. Just as much as his danger and valor did.

It was the delicious dichotomy of a man just as proficient at peace as he was at war. If she — a princess, a delight of the realm — couldn’t have the best of both worlds, why bother at all~?

If Rhaenyra was honest with herself, she was barely paying any attention to the action on the tourney field below. Usually, the glorious moments of violence, of knights on horseback crashing against each other with something to prove, would hold sway over her attention. But she’d found something more subtly interesting now. A man and his lady who would undoubtedly soon hold the whole court in the palms of their hands. They were simply too intriguing for any other outcome.

Still, toward the end of the lists, Rhaenyra at least put up a show of interest in the clashes below. Of course, her companions in the royal box held her true interest. As men rode, royalty chattered. Alicent was the one to spark their usual game at events like this.

“I heard that the young Ser Myron Byrch was caught fornicating in places he shouldn’t. His newly wedded lady wife is said to be quite wroth,” Alicent shared.

Rhaenyra smirked, “I’d imagine he’s trying to win back her favor through a show of prowess, then?”

“It seems likely,” Alicent smiled back. “And somewhat futile.”

Indeed, on the field below, the young knight she’d called out crashed to the ground on the very first tilt, entirely unvictorious.

They usually spent Father’s tourneys in this way, speculating and sharing information they’d both purposefully gathered for such an occasion. Gossip was unbecoming of a princess, some might’ve said. But it was oh-so-much-fun, oh-so-useful-to-know, and Rhaenyra cared little for the hypocritical bleating of sheep.

So it stoked her fire and brought a wide smile to her face when her new objects of interest joined in on their game.

Ciaphas chuckled, “It sounds like he’ll be feeling that blow on more than just his body.”

“Oh, come now,” Amberley smirked. “I’m sure ‘wherever’ he was caught employs a few sensitive souls to lick his wounds… For a price, of course.”

Rhaenyra laughed out loud at that quip. Alicent tried for a scandalized look, but the expression quickly fell away to giggles. Laenor and Laena both grinned wickedly. Even Jonquil and her ladies tittered like a melody of songbirds.

“The Manderly brothers, Ser Medrick and Ser Torrhen,” Rhaenyra pointed them out, where they waited for their tilts to begin. “Have come down from White Harbor for the event. Seeking ladies to wed, perhaps? Ser Medrick is fit enough, I suppose, but I do not envy the lady who will find herself crushed beneath Ser Torrhen’s already prodigious bulk.”

“Perhaps such an ordeal will be soothed by the wealth of the only city in the North?” Laena playfully suggested.

“She may not last long enough to enjoy it, unless she’s willing to mount herself a knight instead of the other way around,” Amberley dryly noted.

“Her marriage bed will certainly be warm enough,” Ciaphas commented, innocent and unassuming as can be. “Did you know that most larger aquatic mammals carry layers of fat and blubber about themselves to help stave off the chill of icy seas?”

Rhaenyra almost let out an un-princess-like snort. Laenor didn’t even bother muffling his amusement, barking with laughter, “HA! A fascinating fact to keep at the ready, Ser Ciaphas! Useful knowledge, indeed!”

“There’s a Yronwood knight up next in the lists,” Laena noted. “An old and storied house, but unfortunately, Dornish. I doubt he’ll find much support from the crowd here.”

On and on, they went. Round and round, amusing themselves with chatter and gossip. Amberley’s dry and cutting tongue was a treat in of itself, and Ciaphas often played off her remarks further with quick wit. Rhaenyra could honestly say she was having a wonderful time beside her new objects of interest and her other companions.

Eventually, her uncle returned to the field for the rest of his tilts, as well. The common people cheered loudly for their prince. Rhaenyra would usually be amongst them, but she wasn’t as solely invested in Daemon as she’d been during past tourneys.

It wasn’t meant with any disrespect, not when there were a pair of fresh, intriguing mysteries at her side. Uncle Daemon would live with not holding all of her attention for once. Rhaenyra almost rolled her eyes fondly at the thought.

Daemon was brilliant, a testament to the fire of their lineage, but he was also a somewhat difficult man to love. His first tilt of the tourney had been against Alicent’s younger brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower, and he’d asked for Alicent’s favor beforehand. As amusing as Daemon’s strife with the Hand of the King often was, Rhaenyra found it less so when he involved Alicent. Much less so…

Still, he was kin, and Rhaenyra cheered for him, even if her heart was elsewhere at that moment. He faced an impressive, but no-name knight in the final tilts of the tourney — some ‘Cole’ from the Stormlands, Alicent claimed. But as Ciaphas spoke during the first pass, Rhaenyra found her attention drawn to him instead of the tilt below.

Ciaphas’s tone was rather disapproving, “I mean no offense to the royal family when I say this, Princess… But the Prince’s lack of face protection is… ill-advised. I’ve jousted only once, and I can already tell you that much. Even mock combat can be unpredictable. With a shattered lance, a splinter of wood as long as a man’s forearm can easily find its way where it’s not supposed to be, by only the cruel whims of chance and accident.”

“When you put it like that, Ser Ciaphas…” Rhaenyra frowned.

Laena openly rolled her eyes, as only a royal cousin could get away with, “Daemon wishes-… nay, needs the whole realm to see his face. It’s a very nice face, and he won’t settle for anything less.”

“It’d look much less nice with a new wooden horn in the center of it,” Amberley noted.

While Rhaenyra didn’t disagree, she still felt the need to lightly chastise the lady, “The gods favor House Targaryen, Lady Amberley.”

Amberley nodded, saying nothing more, but the potential tragedy lingered on Rhaenyra’s mind. Would her uncle really be so foolish and ego-driven-…?

Something within her snorted harshly, ‘He would. He is.’

The rest of the tilt played out with even less enthusiasm for her uncle on Rhaenyra’s part. Thankfully, the worst didn’t come to pass. But Daemon was still unseated by the Cole knight, who proved himself rather spectacular with a lance. And then, rather spectacular on foot, too, when Daemon called for the fight to continue.

Prince and no-name knight dueled for the title of ‘Joust’s Champion’. Ciaphas and Amberley both watched with keen eyes.

“Your thoughts, good ser, good lady?” Rhaenyra curiously asked.

“They’re both very good. The Cole is a prime physical specimen and brutally skilled beyond,” Amberley said. “And the Prince is deadly with that blade of his. It looks almost weightless in his hands.”

Ciaphas nodded, “I’m glad neither joined the melee. My victory wouldn’t have been so straightforward if they did.”

“Straightforward, he says,” Amberley playfully scoffed. “Seven defeated knights and dueling himself a new legend. Yes, so simple, so straightforward.”

Despite the ongoing duel below, Rhaenyra giggled and teased Ciaphas, “You sell yourself for pennies, good ser, when you could easily fetch a princess’s ransom in gold dragons.”

The duel ended with her uncle’s submission and defeat. He wouldn’t be happy about that, but Rhaenyra was hardly in a mood to pity him. The Cole was raised as the Joust’s Champion before her and the crowd. Seeking her favor, he crowned her as the tourney’s Queen of Love and Beauty. Rhaenyra accepted with slightly distracted grace. He was handsome enough, she supposed, almost in the same way that Ser Ciaphas was — danger, experience, prowess…

But Rhaenyra couldn’t help but feel he still fell far short there.

Criston Cole… She may remember his name, but the other of the tourney’s champions gripped her attention tighter still. She turned back to rejoin him and his lady, to pick their puzzle apart and enjoy them more and more~…

A messenger boy brought her up short, speaking soft, nervous words of dread in her ear, “The Queen-…”

Rhaenyra didn’t hear the rest. She couldn’t. The boy might as well have trailed off there and then. A terrible, shocking, stabbing ring picked up in her ears, in her mind, in her heart, and soul. No… It couldn’t be…! It couldn’t!

On a day of otherwise good humor and entertainment… From a high so high and hopeful… Princess Rhaenyra’s world shattered, shattered, SHATTERED into a thousand-thousand shards of brittle broken glass, and accursed tragedy…

It would later be said that Syrax’s haunting roar could be heard all across the Crownlands, sharing in her rider’s utterly shattering grief.

IIIII

Bonus Pics (sauce below)