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(Firmridge, the Riverlands)

The night's feast had gone just as well as one could expect.

Lorimas's victory within the melee solidified the image of the Mudds as a martial dynasty. The nobility and what little smallfolk present in the castle gossiped and conversed with awe amongst themselves.

This victory pleased Erlend quite a bit.

In a continent where the ability to command armies and combat skills were hailed above all else, he and Lorimas not only delivered but smashed the proverbial expectations like it was two penny whore with a quota to meet.

Congratulations have been going on for nearly an hour now, as more people tried to cozy up to his Uncle, though a few dared to offer their heirs as potential marital prospects for Mya.

Lorimas was lapping up the former and having none of the latter. The look he gave anyone who so much as hinted towards engagements was enough to scatter them away.

Catelyn held his arms to his right, looking as beautiful as always.

His blue-eyed queen gave him a smile that mirrored his own. "The Melee went splendidly."

"Indeed, Lorimas couldn't have done better even if we asked him to," he responded.

"Any thoughts on who the jousts victor could be?"

"If Malora is to be believed, Baelor might win it."

"I know better than to bet against Malora, but there are far better jousters present, seeing as more Lords will be participating in the joust."

"It's either going to be a Reachmen or a Knight of the Vale, it's their specialty anyway." Catelyn nodded her head in agreement. "You noticed the dornish lady too, I take it."

"If you mean the violet-eyed woman that has been staring daggers towards me since the welcome feast. No, I have not."

Rolling her eyes at her husband, Catelyn stared at the infamous beauty.

Ashara Dayne, lady regent of Starfall and the woman that had enchanted both her past betrothed during the Harrenhal disaster.

Reportedly, while she agreed to dance with the quiet wolf and was even amused by his shyness, she'd ended up kicking Brandon directly in the balls when the most rambunctious wolf got too handsy while drunk.

Elia had spoken a few words about her but largely remained silent on her former lady-in-waiting. The relationship between the two soured these past few years, thanks in no small part to the relationship between her husband and the princess.

"You'll have to deal with it eventually. Elia does miss her friend." She told her husband.

"Here's hoping she doesn't kick me in the balls." Erlend gulped, no amount of power would ever reduce a man's fear for his more precious parts.

A pleasant silence encompassed the two as they watched the rest of the feast around them.

…

"Father looks happy," Garlen noted to his siblings.

"I didn't expect him to befriend the imp of all people," Loras said.

"They have a bit in common, though I reckon Lord Tyrion is much more knowledgeable."

"Nice way of calling father a fool," Margaery smirked.

"Marg!" Willas protested.

"What, it's true though."

"He's still our father." Garlen sighed, he knew his sister despite her pleasant attitude, resented their father for causing the divide between himself and their mother.

Still, there was no need to be so blatant about it, not in public at least.

"He might not be the wisest of men, but he still does his best," Loras added helpfully.

The rest of his siblings turned to him in surprise.

Offended by their looks. "It's true though," he said.

"We know it's just that… you said it." Willas looked at his brother as if he had seen him for the first time.

Seeing his brother quickly turning red from anger or embarrassment, the Tyrell heir wisely changed the topic.

"So sister, what's the result of your bet with the Viper's daughter?" Willas looked curiously at his sister.

The annoyed look on her face told him all he needed to know, "She got the 5 crowns."

"You're far too young to be betting Marg," Garlen chided.

"Oh shove off, it wasn't my gold anyway."

"Who's gold did you use Marg?" Dread started to pool in all three brothers' stomachs.

Looking at her pale brothers with a mischievous smirk on her face, "Well then, wouldn't you like to know."

Faster than she could react, her siblings immediately jumped from their seats and rushed towards what she could only assume were their quarters. There were cries of vengeance in the mix, though they remained inaudible due to the loud conversations happening around them.

"It was only 5 crowns," She murmured, not noticing the annoyed looks she was receiving from the poor maid who had spilled some wine due to the Tyrell sibling's sudden movement.

…

"Margaery did something devious, I can feel it," Malora stated.

She received a deadpan look from her sister, "You don't say." Alerie said.

"How's Highgarden?"

"Makes me feel like strangling that stupid git that I'm unfortunately wed to the more I stay there."

Patting her sister on the shoulder consolingly "At least he doesn't force himself on you."

"Does the King do that?" Alerie had a worried look on her face, fearing for her sister.

Though that fear evaporated instantly "Heavens no, you think I'm going to say no to that hunk. You must be drunk little sis."

"I am drunk."

Malora conveniently ignored the previous statement, "So I take it Olenna hasn't caught on to your act yet."

"The old hag still thinks I'm a ditzy noblewoman," Alerie said proudly.

Fooling someone like the Queen of Thorns hadn't been easy, but she did it, and that was an accomplishment that few had achieved. Even the King was wary of Olenna, why he didn't just kill off the conniving bitch, she had no idea. Malora might know, but she wasn't saying anything about it.

"Don't underestimate her Ale, she's feared for a reason." Malora cautioned her sister.

"Yes Yes. I know. Tywin with Tits, you've said this a hundred times already."

"That does not make it any less true."

"I'll take your word for it."

…

"Lormias looks ready to blow," Yohn stated.

"Yes… Yes, he does." Benjen agreed.

"Should we do something about it?" Stannis asked with worry.

It had been a while since the feast started, and Lorimas Mudd was beginning to lose his temper with the snakes surrounding him. It didn't help that a few of them had been insulting the elder Mudd's adopted daughter just a few hours ago.

The man wanted to head to his wife and daughter, but the idiots were in his way, and he couldn't just ignore them.

Looking thoughtful, Yohn pondered his next move, "I'm still thinking about it."

"This might turn into a scandal."

Benjen did nothing to hide the large smile on his face, "He did always say he wanted to know what it felt like smashing a snake would feel like."

Not many were used to seeing smiles on a Stark's face if their backing away was of any indication. Even the northerners looked perturbed by it.

Stannis stared at his colleagues, already feeling a headache coming up. He doubted that the king would care for the more ambitious noblemen, but this would cause an issue.

After all, it wouldn't look good if the champion decided to break a few skulls during the feast rather than just on the field. "I'm going to put a stop to it, you two are welcome to join."

"It's fine Stannis, Lorimas won't hurt them… much"

"That's what I'm worried about."

…

(Erlend Mudd, Firmridge)

It was the day after the Melee had ended.

The joust had not begun the day after the melee, as he wanted to give the melee participants some reprieve, many of them did intend to participate in the joust after all.

He was now going through the paperwork that cropped up, the damned thing had been building up since the start of the Tourney, and he had been too busy overseeing the event to deal with his most loathsome foe properly.

Truly, this was the greatest danger to all rulers. Huh… Another assassin tripped on his feet and fell off the fortress walls. Truly a tragedy. You'd think they'd learn after the hundredth one died of natural causes. The poor fool had a heart attack right in front of his taskmaster.

There was a reason many considered that particular career to be a risky one, why not even your heart could be trusted?

Cutting him from his musings was the entry of his most recent interest.

A gorgeous woman, with curly golden hair, emerald green eyes, fair skin, and a slender, graceful figure. Cersei Lannister was a cut woman above the rest, Erlend reckoned that more than half the men in the tourney were already besotted her, be they spoken for or not.

Which made her presence in this solar even more amusing to him.

The young heiress bowed her head to him, her eyes remaining on his, lust and desire clear as day.

Unphased by her look, "Lady Lannister," He said, "Do have a seat."

"Thank you for having me, your Majesty," Cersei said. "I hope I haven't caused you any issues by being so public with my request."

Erlend was aware of her intentions, the silly girl had made it public in hopes to anger his wife and lovers. Wanting to swoop in and earn his heart and whatnot, while his significant others were supposedly blinded by anger for his agreement.

Quite the conniving lioness, unfortunately for her, aside from Lyanna, none of his lovers were affected by her actions.

Waving her empty apologies away, "It's alright Lady Lannister, it would not do for a Sovereign to turn a blind eye to his subject's suffering."

"So what troubles you so?"

Looking hesitant, Cersei took a deep breath, before speaking her mind. "My brother wishes to sell me to some lordling. I suspect that I won't see the year's end if I go through with the marriage."

This raised an eyebrow from Erlend, he was well aware of how fed up the Lannister pride was with Cersei, yet no such plans had been made to kill her off.

"That is quite the accusation you are levying my Lady, and to a Lord Paramount no less." Erlend said gravely, "Do you have any evidence that can validate this?"

Shaking her head, the girl put on a pitiful expression, her eyes watering "We left Casterly Rock too suddenly, I did not have the time to gather enough evidence."

"Please, your majesty, you must understand… I present a threat to my brother. He considers me a threat to his rule and won't abide by it any longer."

She was going the whole nine yards with this mummery. Any potential threat she could have been was already stamped out by Kevan.

There's a reason the Lannister tree was now a few branches short. The old lion had used his war with the squid to eliminate the most troublesome members of the pride, truly a Lannister at heart.

Letting out an audible sigh, "Say I believe your words. I cannot just arrest your brother on your words alone."

"You need not do any of that, your Majesty," Cersei interrupted excitedly, a contrast to her teary-eyed look just a moment before. "I… I can simply stay in Firmridge, surely he wouldn't be able to do anything when I'm out of his reach."

That gave the King something to muse about, she wasn't the smartest Lannister, at least not yet. But it couldn't be denied that she knew how to be cunning when it benefited her.

"So be it." Erlend said, "You will become my wife's lady-in-waiting whilst I try to uncover this unsavory plot by your brother. As for the potential engagement, no need to fret, he won't be able to go through with it as long as you remain here."

Her lips thinned at the mention of his wife, but her eyes lit up at achieving her goal. "Thank you, your Majesty. I promise to do my best to repay you for these!"

As she said those words, she bowed again, this time emphasizing her breasts to the young King who appreciated the view. She was remarkably easy to read, Erlend wondered how long her defiant nature would remain once his wife was done with the proud girl.

Catelyn was not merciful to those who tried to drive a wedge between them and she could be quite sadistic. At least Cersei would still be alive by the end of it, she was of some use to him after all.

The silly kitten had provided him with the perfect way to keep those troublesome Lannisters in line.

…

It had been a few minutes since Cersei made her exit from his solar, with an enticing sway to her hips he must add.

Erlend was now working through his papers once more, it seemed this monster would give him no time to rest.

A polite knock could be heard on the door.

Raising his eyebrows at the unexpected visitor, "You may enter." he said out loud.

She was a tall and fair lady, her long dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. With haunting violet eyes, Ashara Dayne did not disappoint. Yet those eyes looked like they would stab him then and there if its owner felt she could get away with it.

Wanting to get straight to the point, "I suppose you're still angry that your brother has not been released yet." Erlend said.

Her response was to blink in surprise, though he didn't know why. She couldn't be more obvious with her anger after all. Few would stare at him with such obvious vitriol, not if they wanted to avoid being met with dragon flames.

His children tended to overreact when idiots were being hostile to him.

"Why has my brother not been released yet." She spoke, her tone almost accusatory.

"Perhaps the fact that he was an accomplice to the events that caused one of the most devastating conflicts in this continent's history would be a clue." The blunt answer took her aback.

She had the decency to look ashamed for a few seconds, her eldest brother had died due to those events after all. "You've released the Hightower though, what makes my brother any different?"

Rolling his eyes at her, "Ser Gerold had no clue what the mad prince was up to, only finding out too late, by that point he had no choice in what he could do."

"Your brother on the other hand had more than enough time to inform anyone, even King Scar of what his son was planning, yet he did nothing and even worse, helped the imbecile in his mad scheme."

Frowning at that, the infamous beauty took a few moments to articulate a better response to that. There was no way she could spin it in a way that her brother looked remotely innocent of his doings, she had been aware of at least some of the things going on.

The only reason no one called her out on it, well aside from her distant cousins who were now suspiciously having caught the case of the dead, was the fact that many lusted after her body and the power she held as lady regent of Starfall.

Erlend himself could've gone after her, but chose not to, simply because he couldn't give a rat's ass about the whole issue. It benefited him the most anyway and he had already dealt with the most troublesome ones.

Plus, Doran would do his best to hinder any more non-clear-cut investigations on his nobles who were associated with Rhaeger and his circle. There were far better things to do than play games with that vile snake.

"Is there any way I could prove my brother's innocence," There was a change in her tone, shifting Erlend's attention from his paperwork.

Raising his head to look at the raven-haired beauty, he blinked to find her looking at him with an appraising look. The lady dared to look at him like he was a prized bull.

Well damn, this certainly would be interesting.

…

(R18+ Incoming)

Making her way to him, the gorgeous lady did her best to look as enticing as possible.

"I'll need a justifiable reason to let your brother go 'free' and I'll be losing a bit of honor doing so," Erlend said with a mock heavy sigh.

Arthur wasn't all that important in the grand scheme of things, hell most forget he was involved in the first place, but he was hardly gonna let him go for nothing.

"I figured as much," Ashara responded, not halting in her steps one bit.

The sensual woman looked to be on a path she wasn't going to be dissuaded from.

He wasn't left to his thoughts any longer as she slammed her lips against his.

Arousal spiked through him as he felt her soft, warm lips vividly. She tasted remarkably sweet, a rich familiar taste that was not unlike that of Dornish wine.

Showing no hesitation, Erlend pressed right back harder at the sinfully clad lady and kissed her, causing her to let out a moan of surprise.

If she thought her sneak attack could let her take control of things, she was in for a surprise. His tongue brushed against her teeth, demanding entrance into her mouth. Not holding back for too long, she allowed him into her mouth, her tongue joining his in a ferocious liplock, both trying to dominate the other.

While their tongues did battle, Erlend grabbed ahold of her waist, he pulled the violet-eyed beauty closer, her assets pressing right into his chest.

Eventually, they parted ways, the lack of oxygen finally getting to them.

Her eyes fluttered open, and looked at him with lust and resentment. She was enjoying this, he could tell, though she disliked him greatly.

"I take it, this is how you intend to convince me," Erlend said with an amused tone. "Surely that's not all of it?" He asked.

She only glared at him in response before pouncing on him once more, smashing her lips passionately against his and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

She did not hesitate to draw him into an aggressive lip lock. Her tongue invaded his mouth, attempting to make him submit to her wishes.

Quite the audacious action, one that Erlend refused to take lying down he grasped ahold of her sizeable peaks, letting his fingers sink deeply into her flesh and causing her to gasp into their kiss.

While their tongues fought for supremacy, his hands kept wandering throughout her body, looking for pleasure points she never expected to have and forcing gasps and moans out of his newest partner.

The liplock continued unabated, the two of them refusing to give ground to each other for as long as possible.

Ashara for her part was fighting a losing battle, unlike her Erlend could hold on for far longer and his hands kept doing things to her that sent shockwaves throughout her body.

Eventually giving in, the lady of the stars pulled back, staring at him with grudging respect.

"You're better at this than I expected," Ashara said, trying to catch her breath.

"Did the numerous lovers I have not already give it away?" Erlend said, still composed.

"Aghh... I thought that was just men being men." She snorted.

"Now, take off your clothes. It's time we made it to the main event." She whispered in his ears, causing a spike of arousal to run through him.

Needing no convincing, Erlend took off his clothes swiftly, exposing himself to the parched ravenette. Her eyes widened momentarily when he revealed his lower head, the unmistakable look of approval passing through before schooling herself. Though he could see her staring unabashedly at his body, with barely hidden lust.

Finally locking eyes with him, she began to strip her clothes off enticingly much to his arousal, it didn't take long for the ravishing lady to expose her slightly bronzed skin and curvy form to his wandering eyes. Her stomach was surprisingly toned and she bore quite the childbearing hips, showing off the fact that she worked out in her spare time. A trait only shared by Lyanna and Malora of all people.

Despite previously exploring her breasts, Erlend couldn't help but admire them once again, they were quite large but not to the point of exaggeration, there was no sag to be seen and her nipples could be described as hard as rock.

Frankly, Erlend was prepared to jump her then and there, but a man had to maintain standards even in this situation. Ashara used the time he no doubt spent admiring her form to clear his desk, before crawling on top of it and seductively swinging her hips invitingly.

Erlend did not rush to the final destination, instead, he pulled her closer to him as she lay on his desk, placing light kisses on her neck, and causing her to moan as he marked her body.

Breathing into her ears, "Hmm, someone seems quite pleased with this." He teased.

Letting out a growl of annoyance, "Shut up and keep going." The violet-eyed model insisted.

"So demanding." He responded jokingly.

Still, he did as told, and moved to the rest of her body, placing kisses on her neck, chest, and stomach and even changing her posture so that he could lightly trace his lips and fingers on her admittedly glorious thighs. Just a hair breath away from her quivering flower.

Truly her body was a work of art, he could understand everyone's obsession with this seductive succubus, too bad they'll never get to her.

Eventually, they switched places, as her hot breath could be felt on his length, while her hands wrapped gently around it.

Surprisingly, Ashara placed gentle kisses on the tip of his length, while her hands wrapped around its sides.

Her tongue swirled around the tip, lightly tasting it before taking more of it into her hot mouth. She used her tongue to explore as much of his length as possible, and what she couldn't reach with her warm mouth, was being stroked by her hands.

Her mouth felt divine, was all he could say. After a long while, he could feel himself coming close, and despite their apparent dislike for each other, he warned her.

Before anything could be said, Ashara began bobbing her head up and down his lower head, one of her arms even stroking his balls and encouraging him further.

Gritting his teeth at her unexpected actions, Erlend clenched at the table and hissed out a single warning. "Coming!" Before his seed shot right into her mouth, with no end showing.

The dornish lady, immediately swallowed his oncoming seed, not letting a trace of it escape her mouth. Only after she was sure he was spent, did she proudly present her mouth to him, clear of any of his little soldiers.

Erlends lips twitched at her actions, wondering if he had discovered a kink or if she awakened one in him.

Pushing him down on the table, the gorgeous woman got on top of him and gently bit into his neck, leaving a hickey on it not unlike that of the ones he left on her body.

"Can't let you be the only one to leave their mark today." She teased him.

Grabbing his length and pointing it towards her entrance, Ashara hesitated for a second before pushing through and dropping down onto his cock.

As soon as he felt himself penetrate her, a loud moan could be heard. The warmth of her insides and the tightness of her inner walls were truly something else. It felt like an anaconda had his length in a vice grip and refused to let go.

Despite that, somehow this seductive succubus was able to continue moving on top of him, slowly easing in and out. Erlend for his part met her tempo with measured thrusts, feeling her tightening even further, but gradually letting his length get used to it.

His hand did not remain still for long, exploring her gifted rear and sinking on the doughy flesh. As they adjusted, his movement began to speed up, starting to ram his length up deeper into her core. The closer he got, the more her moans became uncontrollable, to the point that she bit into his chest to muffle her growing screams of pleasure.

More impressively, this striking woman managed to get ahold of herself and attempted to wrest back control from him, bouncing more vigorously on top of him and increasing her pace, much to his viewable pleasure as her breasts defied the laws of physics with the sheer tenacity they showed.

Finally, both of them felt themselves inching closer, and without preamble, Erlend slammed right into her core one last time, as both let out a shared moan.

No words were said as both of them let themselves go, with Erlend releasing his seed right into her core, guaranteeing that she was well and truly bred.

Ashara for her part had no time to think of the consequences as she felt her core fill with his seed much to her pleasure, while her body tried to recover from its release.

Both of them stiffened onto each other, as a mysterious purple haze covered their intertwined naked forms much to the surprise of the young king.

(R18+ Ending)

(Firmridge, the Riverlands)

Men trotted out with their prized steeds and the best quality armor gold could buy. Participating in the joust were some of the finest knights the realm had to offer.

Tents littered the grounds and squires rushed all around their knights, doing their best to ensure everything was ready. One mistake could prove costly, something they wanted to avoid lest they be hunted down by the deceased kin.

Though unnoticeable to most, the lack of some of the most revered knights of the realm could be felt by the older attendees, especially those who had been present in the great tourneys of the past.

Barristan Selmy, Jonother Darry, and Lewyn Martell were just some of those fallen legends. Amongst the living but unable to attend were Arthur Dayne and Gerold Hightower.

Still, to many, there was hope that this joust would allow new and upcoming knights to usher in a new era of chivalry. With names like Yohn Royce and Baelor Hightower attending, surely anyone who manages to unseat them would be able to make a name for themselves.

Alongside them would be favorites from the Royal Guard, most notably Lord Commander Raymond Feld, there were others of course but none came close to their infamous superior.

Dark horses like Sandor Clegane were also crowd favorites, the grandson of a kennel master, he was considered an inspiration to many of the smallfolk who sought to rise like his grandsire had.

Naturally, it would not be a joust if there weren't a few mystery knights present, their armor was of lesser quality, and their anonymity made it difficult to root for them, though they certainly held the crowd's interest.

This joust may have lacked some of the prestigious names that its predecessors had, but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that new names and capable knights would arise.

Perhaps they would even outshine those of the past, just as the King that presided over it had done.

…

Trotting over to the royal box, Oberyn sent a salacious look to his lover who was sitting next to his sister.

Bowing his head to Erlend as proprietary demands, Oberyn stopped his horse right in front of his niece. "Well then my dear niece, it seems I lack a lady's favor, would you honor me with yours." He said. "Unless his Majesty, would honor me with his own."

Rolling his eyes at his lover's brother "I'm not fucking you Oberyn." Erlend stated blankly. This was neither the first nor the last time his friend had attempted to proposition him.

The lack of reactions from the children, except Dany who predictably glared at the adventurous dornish prince, showed just how used they were to their Uncle's nonsense.

Elia for her part rolled her eyes at her brother, while his lover merely chucked in amusement.

"Here you go, Uncle. You better win this one, I have a lot of crowns riding on you." Rhaenys huffed while she tied her favor to her Uncle's shoulder.

Feigning a hurtful look on his face "Why my dear niece, how could you use your own uncle as a means to gain some gold!" Oberyn exclaimed.

"You told me to bet on you." Was her deadpanned reply.

This gained the prince a stern look from both his sister and Erlend, who did not look pleased at all at that response.

The prince wisely made his escape while he still could, "Well look at the time. I should get going, have a joust to win."

"I hope Clegane knocks off his horse." Danaerys voiced.

"You'd have me lose my gold," Rhaenys said.

"What's worth more, the smug look wiped off his face or some gold you'll just get back from his Majesty."

The young princess had no response to that.

"Relax Dany, didn't Dad tell you not to sound so formal all the time," Edmund interjected.

Glaring at her technical foster brother, "His Majesty should be addressed respectfully at all times. There are none here who are his equals." the young princess insisted.

Giving a hesitant glance to Rhaenys who shrugged her shoulders, Edmund had no clue what to say to the stubborn princess in order to change her mind.

Unknown to both the young children, the far mentally older Danaerys refused to call Erlend anything that remotely hinted at kinship, fearing that he would look at her as a father to his daughter, rather than the position she truly sought.

Incest between Targaryens might be normal, but Erlend wasn't one, despite how many would harp on about his connections to the daughter of that idiot 'great' king, especially once his bonded were revealed to the world at large.

She genuinely feared destroying any potential relations that could start between them, so she did her best to avoid it regardless of how these little brats insisted she act. Once she was back to her older form, she had full confidence that she'd be able to get her beloved's attention, her mother was proof of that at least.

…

Trumpets heralded the arrival of the knights participating in the joust.

Entering the lists their polished armors shone with a bright gleam. White, black, and red were just a few of the colors present. Their armor served as reflections for the arms of their houses.

Though that did not only encompass the nobility, many of the gentry present proudly wore the coat of arms of their noble wives.

There were of course the still single and unwed gentry who wore fine plate armor, the best that money could buy, helped in no small part by the pay they received from serving under the King.

With them were arms of odd designs, someone even had a bush as their mainstay element, a clear mockery towards the nobility. Regardless, every single participant, be it noble, gentry, hedge, or mystery knight wore something that represented their status and position.

It created a fascinating array of colors, that seemed to go on for miles on end, with the crowds looking in fascination at it all. Pointing at anything they found interesting or considered outlandish.

Yohn Royce was the name on everyone's tongues, many assumed as the most experienced jouster among those present, that he'd have the best shot at winning this event with ease. Bets ranging from small and large were placed upon him and against his opponents.

Among his opponents were the likes of Ser Baelor Brightsmile, a Knight of great repute and the Reach's most favored, seconded only by Lord Desmond Osgrey and his rival Mathis Rowan.

Lord Lorimas Mudd, the victor of the Melee had his proponents from the Riverlands and the Vale who praised his name for all to hear, calling him invincible and that he was all but assured victory over his foes with his seemingly unending vigor.

However, it must be noted that there were just as many who bet against him in the hopes that someone would bring down the seemingly invincible warrior for his actions against those who'd scheme against him.

Ser Gerion Lannister was armored in red and gold, showing off the colors of his house proudly, his armor littered with the intricate carvings of the Lannister lion. Surrounding him were numerous knights from the West all keen on conversing with the most jovial of the Lannister pride.

Prince Oberyn Martell rode proudly, his facial expressions taunting his soon-to-be opponents, and his armor shined particularly bright, its eye-catching orange mixed in with red and gold held an almost hypnotic effect on those who kept their eyes too long.

As the heralds once again sounded the trumpets, the first tilt started with thunderous hooves of the galloping steeds, while those who would enter soon looked on with a keen eye, seeking any weakness they could take advantage of.

Time will tell who wins their illustrious event.

…

She watched with rapt attention whenever her husband entered the lists, it was as if they were young once more, her a curious maiden and him an adventurous knight. He looked so dashing, was it a wonder she fell for him when they first met?

Mya looked worried just as she had been during the melee, "You need not worry for him, few would dare harm him in front of Lenny." she whispered to her daughter, hoping to assuage her fears.

His armor was colored an eye-catching shade of maroon, and intricate runes colored silver seemed to meld into it, a gift from her nephew no doubt, he was always one for theatrics. 'None shall penetrate his armor.' He claimed and she believed him.

If he could bring dragons back to this world and cast out magic that shattered whole hordes, then it would not be that difficult for him to create such armor.

Her purple favor was tied around his shoulders, proudly proclaiming to the realm to whom he belonged. Her husband cared not for the wenches that tried to slip into his pants, only her.

A stark contrast to her silly nephew.

Truthfully, she had no idea where Lenny got his womanizing ways from, his father had been honorable to a fault and his mother a demure and kind woman. There was a reason Jon Arryn was willing to marry his youngest sister to the descendants of what was once their most fearsome enemies.

Though it was amusing to think of what his face would look like had he been told of who the next Arryn Lord would be.

A natural-born son, from a Tully of all things, the next heir to the Vale. At least the stupid girl was loyal to Lenny, she dreaded what could've occurred otherwise.

Her homeland would've been painted red, she knew that for a certainty.

…

The jousting went on for hours on end, with many knights proving their skill to all to see.

Prince Oberyn started everything off when unseated his opponents with shocking ease, say what you will about the man, but he was not weak.

Among those beaten by him were the likes of Randyll Tarly who proved to be his most troublesome foe, it took seven lances before the Marcher lord was unhorsed, and even then it seemed as if the older Lord would have still kept going had it not been for the pointed look from the King.

The man looked ready to unsheath his blade and fall upon the prince, before ultimately choosing wisely and leaving the area.

Jasper Redfort won against the mystery knight he faced, unfortunately, he found himself unhorsed when he faced his fellow heir soon after, Andar Royce, the bronze heir proved to be far more experienced than the Redfort when it came to the tilts.

In a show of good sportsmanship, as her nephew put it, Andar helped his fallen opponent up and helped him back to his tent, earning both of them approving nods from their fathers.

Raymond Feld, Lord Commander of the Royal Guard proved to those who were unaware of his exploits in battle, that he was certainly no pushover. Every opponent that faced him found themselves swiftly unhorsed with little fanfare, it was getting so ridiculous that a few of them gave up before they could face the man, seeing how brutal he was with those he faced.

Then came old Yohn himself, who unhorsed William Dustin in the first tilt, and Ser Marcus Darry soon after. Although the Darry lord proved himself the better foe, the bronze lord took four tilts to unseat him.

Tilt after tilt occurred, to the point that she stopped paying attention to them, impressive as they were, it became far too repetitive for her liking.

She instead chose to watch the expressions of those around her, like the rest of the Royal Family she was seated close to Lenny, his expression seemed to be that of utter concentration.

Yet, she knew he was just as bored as her.

This silly 'son' of hers couldn't hide his true emotions from her, she had raised him after all. It was startling seeing him so composed and regal, gone was the scrawny boy who ran around the manor and caused mischief wherever he went.

She missed the carefree expression he held as a child, that honest, wonderful, and bright mind seemed to almost shrink inwardly, replaced by a calculating and invincible demeanor he put for all to see.

Was Mya going to end up like him? At the moment she didn't stand to inherit much, aside from an absurd amount of gold and that often would be more than worth it for most of the leeches.

Being the adopted sister of the King gave her a lot of perceived influence. Looking worriedly at her daughter, Dalia decided then and there that she would not allow her daughter to take the same path Erlend did.

Erlend had no choice, much to her regret, Mya at least had the luxury to avoid it.

…

Lorimas rode down his opponents one after the other, his famed stamina made it almost impossible for him to tire and hence more prone to mistakes.

Desmond Osgrey, Vardis Egen, Rodrik Ryswell, and William Mooton were just a few of the names that found them unseated by his lance. It made for quite the sight, as the Mudd Lord became a favorite among the crowds.

Gold seemed to change hands faster than the eye could see, as many found themselves either losing gold or gaining it.

Some scowled in annoyance at the Mudd lord's unbeatable streak, only surpassed by the annoyance the Stormlanders and Reachmen had for Prince Oberyn's streak. While others cheered for both, their popularity was apparent with the common masses.

"Dad will win this," Mya said confidently, Lorimas having just unhorsed Lord Tytos Blackwood.

There was a noise of disagreement from one of the sand snakes sitting nearby, Obara being the most vocal. "Please little girl, obviously my father is the better rider."

"If you mean riding cock, then yes I would agree," Mya responded snarkily.

Dalia pinched the bridge of her nose, "Seven give me strength."

Of all the things she had to pick from Erlend, her sarcasm wasn't one she'd have wanted her to get.

Obara seemed non-pulsed by Mya's response, "He does that well too, I suppose."

These earned her an incredulous look from the rest of the royal children, while her sisters and Ellaria snickered at her words. Elia looked both parts proud and exacerbated with her niece while their newest addition, one lady Ashara Dayne just shook her head in bemusement.

That woman's presence confused Dalia to an extent, one day she was glaring holes into her nephew's head, and the second day she looked at him like he was the only thing worth a damn. While the rest of the Royal Family had some suspicions about what exactly occurred between the two, they kept mum about it, as it would be something they could handle after the tourney.

When Yohn Royce faced Prince Oberyn, they found themselves facing tilt after tilt, with no apparent victor that could be proclaimed.

Fifteen lances were lost before both men chose to dismount and face each other with steel. While Yohn showed himself skilled just as he had done in the melee, the much younger Oberyn proved to be his better, coming out victorious in the match with the crowd cheering him on.

Just like that, one of the favorites for the joust found himself beaten. It did increase the odds in the dornish prince's favor at least.

By the end of the day, only ten knights remained, who would compete against each other on the next day to decide the victor. Lorimas had won the last tilt against Mathis Rowan, who put up an impressive fight despite being outmatched by the Mudd Lord.

She wouldn't be surprised if the man boasted this to his rival Lord Desmond who hadn't lasted as long as he had. Those two were nearly becoming as bad as the Bracken and Blackwood, though no blood had been spilled yet.

Their mutual dislike of the Tyrell Oaf was strong enough to keep them from purposely weakening each other and giving the flower some breathing room.

She knew Erlend wanted to arrange a match between the newborn Osgrey heir and the youngest Rowan daughter. They were 'kingsmen' as he called and keeping them strong enough to contest the Tyrells was a priority for her nephew.

The Reach was far too important of a region to leave untouched.

Understandable, not many wanted to leave the Redwyne hag in such a strong position again, some of these very men had been close friends with Luthor Tyrell after all.

"I had no idea Lord Lorimas was such a skilled rider," Ellaria said conversationally to her. The eccentric woman proved to be a better friend than most of her fellow ladies.

"He is," she said, her mind going back to their days of old.

"I heard some claim he won your hand through a tourney." Ellaria looked at her curiously, Mya and the rest of the children paid rapt attention, waiting for her to respond.

"We agreed on the marriage long before that. The tourney was just something my brother cooked up, wanting to make my wedding seem special."

"What if someone else won the Tourney?"

Dalia snorted at that, "Then he wouldn't have survived the Tourney."

The gasps of shock and nervous giggles from the children could be heard in the background.

A smile graced Ellaria's lips, "You sure you don't want to join us? Me and Oberyn are quite interested in trying this vaunted stamina of the Iron Mudd."

"Are you trying to sleep with the whole family?" Dalia rolled her eyes at her friend. "At this point, who haven't you two propositioned?"

Ellaria simply laughed in response, before the two made their way to the wheelhouse, it was time for the nightly feast.

In the coming day, the victor of the Joust would be decided.

(Firmridge, the Riverlands)

The final day of the tourney was a mix of frenzy and excitement as everyone looked on at the jousting grounds with anticipation for what was to come.

Ten riders had managed to make it past the first day of the joust, most prominent amongst them were Lorimas Mudd, Oberyn Martell, Baelor Hightower, Raymond Feld, and Gerion Lannister.

There was of course the surprising presence of one of the mystery knights, wearing a yellow and black checkered pattern and who had previously managed to beat back all competitors. The dark horse had become a crowd favorite with his relentless pursuit of victory.

It should be noted that the presence of so many mystery knights in a singular tournament was nearly unheard of.

Those that were unseated had been revealed to scions of noble houses, rogue sons of the rising gentry, and even a few Ironmen who sought to regain some of their reputation amongst the mainlanders.

Still, many had managed to partially achieve their goals for entering, those who conducted themselves well were knighted and allowed entry into service by their impressed opponents, interested lords, or even the King himself.

Not all succeeded, a portion of these 'knights' were little more than amateurs who found themselves sustaining injuries or in some cases outright crippled due to their ineptitude. A clear indicator is the difference between those who earned their positions as knights and those who were given it when they met the minimum requirement.

A particularly significant example was one of the heirs of a prominent noble who had been crippled due to his lack of ability; it remained unknown whether he would continue his position as heir or would be disowned by his furious father.

Regardless, that loss would haunt the arrogant lordling for the rest of his life, which at least many were sure of.

…

Oberyn strode over to his steed with a confident gait, wearing the colors and sigil of the house proudly for all to see, a smile layered his face as he predicted the response of those watching once he came out victorious.

Erlend had cautioned him moments ago, his brother-in-law had been deadly serious.

"Don't do anything stupid"

"Come now my friend, you know me."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Relax my friend. I will be fine."

"Just be careful of that mystery knight, his presence does not bode well for either you or my Uncle."

Even now Erlend was far too cautious for his liking. There were times when that man was as free as the wind, charming and carefree while others where he would make the old lion and thorny grape green with envy as he hatched his plots and schemes.

If his brother hadn't his stick so far up his ass, Oberyn was sure that those two would get along, or kill each other. You could never tell with those types.

His squire helped him mount his horse before making his way to the grounds. A good lad, unfortunately, his sister had made it clear he and his paramour would not touch the boy. One of the queen's handmaidens was infatuated with the oblivious lad, and she wanted to help the girl get her man, so they weren't allowed to ruin him.

A shame really, he would've loved to test him out.

The first joust of the day would be his, facing him was none other than Ser Breakwind himself. The Hightower heir was still smarting over his loss in the melee and looking quite angry with him.

Say what you will about the Reachman but he was still a formidable opponent, after all, he hailed from a land where Tourneys were as common as the crops and the greenery that filled it.

Oberyn would be the first to admit that he wasn't the greatest of jousters, though that didn't mean he couldn't win this, it just meant it would be slightly more difficult.

Making his way to the ground, he waved at the crowds, sending them into a frenzy of cheers and screams.

Some booed at him, while most chanted his name.

Baelor was not without supporters from the crowd, though they mostly came from the Reach and interestingly enough, the Westerlands.

Picking up his lance, Oberyn moved to position and stared at Baelor right in the eyes.

"Your Majesty. Lords and Ladies of the Realm. Today we shall usher in a new era of chivalry and honor." The herald declared pompously, silencing the crowds as they listened intently to his words. "Before you are two of the best knights this realm has to offer, only one shall move forth to the next stage and attain victory."

"Representing the Principality of Dorne is none other than Prince Oberyn Martell, one of the foremost warriors the realm has to offer, and honoring the Green Realm is Ser Baelor Hightower, a true son of the Mander." The crowd cheered as the herald hyped both distinguished competitors up.

Oberyn raised his lance, his concentration at an all-time high, awaiting the herald's signal.

As soon the order came, both stallions charged, his lance scraping the Reachmen's shoulder and causing the Knight to lurch backward, before righting himself properly much to his annoyance.

Returning to their positions, Oberyn casually took the lance handed to him by his nervous squire. Awaiting for the next order to move.

This will take a bit, unfortunately.

…

The prince's lance hit right onto the center of Baelor's shield, the sheer force behind his attack made the Hightower heir stumble atop his horse. Had his shoulder not been battered by the Prince's previous tilts, the man may have been able to catch himself.

A shame that it was not the case, as he finally fell off his horse once the lance hit true at its target.

Erlend observed the jousts as they continued, there was some desire in him that wanted nothing more than to jump on his horse and run them all down with his lance, but he kept himself steady, lest he do something incredibly stupid.

A side-effect of the immense magic that now filled him, power came with a price, as it always did. It was now far more difficult to stay still, his body constantly in motion, desiring action, and movement and to free itself from the boundaries that shackled it.

Come to think of it, it was not too dissimilar to Riordan's demigods.

This was an unexpected side-effect of his bond with his Dragons and the strengthening of his magic. Most of these effects had already been rendered irrelevant by his adaptability, but it did not seem to consider his now near-limitless energy as a danger to himself.

Which was fair, he doubted he'd be able to keep up with his whole harem otherwise. Any other man would've been sucked dry truth be told.

Hell's, his imprints had heard that a cult had been gathering followers, who worshiped him as a love god of all things. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation amused him to no end.

He watched the next joust with an expectant look as his Uncle sent Thoros of Myr reeling to the ground, how the red priest had made it this far without fail was a mystery on its own.

Jorah Mormont found himself beaten by the mystery knight, the man would not win the Hightower girl's attention it seemed. Good for him, such a marriage was doomed from the start and they were hardly fit for each other.

Leyton would not agree to a wedding between a northerner and his daughter unless that northerner was the Stark heir. This was Westeros, age gaps hardly mattered.

He frowned as his magic seemed to react to the presence of the Mystery Knight, it was warning him about the checkered man, that he could guess easily.

It wasn't that he was a threat to himself, few in Planetos presented a threat to his existence. No, it stirred at the danger the man posed for his kin and yes he did consider Oberyn kin, despite his oddities.

This man, whoever he was, had ill intentions for those close to him. Something was shielding him, though its protections were quickly crumbling at the sheer weight behind his probes.

Regardless, he would not be able to touch his family, it was impossible to do so with how many spells, charms, and runes that practically drowned the keep all tuned to keep his family safe and their people influenced to be more loyal.

Their existence was explained away as mere designs and intricacies that aimed to honor the Mudd's first men heritage.

Oh, how Erlend would've loved to kill him immediately, it was unfortunate that by the time he noticed him it was too late, he was far too high profile to go missing. Still, the fool was unaware that Erlend was already aware of his existence, the knight seemed far too confident in himself.

Whatever masked his existence seemed to allow the man to temporarily escape his gaze, one of the gods of this planet he assumed. They were the only ones that were part of this world that could do so.

It was not the Seven, he knew that for sure, they seemed to favor him despite his lack of belief, nor was it the old gods for they were content with their northern territories.

Whatever entity it was, it seemed unable to warn the mystery knight of the danger he was in and the protection failing, perhaps it expanded far too much power doing this little stunt.

That gave him a better idea of who could be behind this bastard.

His Uncle was also aware enough to be cautious once he had warned him of the issue, he wasn't going to act like an imbecile and leave the man blind to a potential risk. One only needed to remember the canon Oberyn's grisly death to realize that.

Regardless since he was here, it mattered not, let the fool play his game, his time would come soon and the runes on his Uncle's armor would hold, he was sure of that.

With his magic primed at the ready for anything, Erlend watched intently as his Uncle's and the checkered Knight's round was announced.

Let's see what you're up to little pawn.

…

Lorimas felt light, that was the best way to describe it.

Despite the immensity of the armor he wore and its imposing appearance, it weighed as much as the tunics he found himself wearing daily.

This presented its own issues, as it had taken weeks for him to get used to such weightless plates, and fighting with it seemed far too odd to be natural. Originally he intended to wear his normal armor, but his nephew had stressed the need for more 'magical' protection for the Joust.

This mystery knight fella seemed to be far more trouble than expected.

Feeling his steed stir under him, he watched with anticipation for the signal. Lining his lance carefully, as they rode down each other, his lance struck true at the checkered knight's chest, though the man did not budge an inch.

Oddly enough, his opponent's lance failed to hit, despite hitting every single one of its opponents previously. The crowd for their part looked confused at the checkered knight's apparent failure, but cheered on for the King's Uncle, though his lance failed to unseat his foe.

Taking another lance, he lined himself up once more and charged again, yet the same thing occurred, annoying him to no end. The blasted fool would not budge. Why wasn't his lance hitting, where was all that skill he'd shown before gone?

Lining up for the third time, this time instead of aiming for his shield, Lorimas aimed right at his shoulder, changing things up for this round.

Both men charged at each other with as much ferocity as they could.

Unfortunately, it seemed the knight had the same idea, as his lance hit Lorimas right at the middle of his chest, directly where his heart was.

Lorimas felt, or rather more heard his armor groan at such momentum, the most shocking thing being a barely noticeable black aura coming from his opponent's lance. It did nothing. His Armor did not break, the lances hit did little but jolt him.

The knight stared at Lorimas in confusion, the Mudd Lord stared right back at the fool, his eyes unamused at what had almost occurred.

Feeling the barely withheld fury from the King's Uncle, the Knight made a hasty retreat back to his position. The man's posture was now trembling, almost skittish as if he had realized something, it did not help him one bit that he could practically feel the King's gaze squarely on him.

Lance at the ready, they charged each other once more, but this time the horse under the checkered knight stumbled for a lack of better terms. Lorimas who had done his best to pull back, hit the man directly at where his acromion was located, the joint that attached one's arm to their body.

The proceeding howl from the man as he cried out in shock and pain whilst simultaneously being crushed by the weight of his horse was terrifying to those who had never seen death or battle.

Immediately personnel that were assigned there for such situations rushed to get the man from under the horse. His screams were still loud and reverberating throughout the whole grounds as they did so.

Unnoticed by everyone was the nod sent by the King to his Uncle, who relaxed once his nephew sent his assurances.

Still, Lorimas could not help but feel jarred by the whole situation, for if it was not for his son in all but blood, he would've died today. Staring at his daughter, the Mudd Lord contemplated his next move.

Whoever this bastard worked for surely had accomplices, he would find them and make them regret their decision to come after him and his kin.

…

There was a hushed silence among the crowds as they watched the fallen knight be removed from the grounds.

His blood still soaking the area he fell in.

It starkly contrasted the joyful atmosphere that had pervaded the Tourney once. Those who had attended Tourney's were well aware of the inherent risks that came with participating and thus were better able to deal with the sudden change.

The younger ones though were shocked and more than a little horrified at what they just saw, their parents or guardians doing their best to calm them down.

Erlend was unamused by the fact that his Tourney had been marred by the stupid knight's presence, he'd have to pay him back for terrifying his children. Motioning for the heralds, a short break would need to be taken before they can resume again.

People needed to get their shit together it seemed.

"You're already on it, I take it," Erlend said to his trusted shadow.

"Aye, we're screening everyone he's been in contact with," Ellar said gruffly. "What if one of the Great Houses were involved?"

"They'll have their due."

The SG Commander bowed his head to Erlend, before making his way out.

None of those present had even noticed the short conversation, a basic notice-me-not-charm in place. It helped that his lovers were too busy trying to reassure the children to notice.

Few if anyone knew of Ellar's position and it was best kept that way.

Rhaenys and Daenerys seemed to be the least affected, Rhaenys having witnessed the events of the Sacking and Dany, well she massacred her fair share.

…

Oberyn was not sure how to feel, it had been an hour or so since Lorimas's match and he'd managed to beat Raymond Feld, a slowly but surely rising legend among the warriors of Westeros.

Yet, it felt hollow, the man was more distracted by the botched attempt on old Lorimas's life. They had gone four tilts before the Commander was unseated, it didn't feel as much of a victory as he wanted to.

Anyone with any ounce of experience could see it for what it was.

Wisely, they had all kept mum about it to avoid spreading panic. It would do no good if it was revealed that someone had attempted to murder the King's Uncle in an event meant to showcase the prestige of the Royal family.

None of them wanted to antagonize the King in his territory, who knew if they'd ever be able to leave it? His next opponent was unfortunately not Lorimas, the man had dropped out as a show of 'respect' to his fallen foe.

What a load of bullshit, Oberyn would bet his brother's balls on the fact that Lorimas was more than likely having a 'talk' with the checkered knight.

Looking at the Knight ahead of him Oberyn couldn't be bothered to remember his name, a Stormlander by the looks of it. Charging down at his opponent, his lance struck true, the man's shield turning into pieces from the impact.

The stormlander was so surprised that he failed to keep himself in check and found himself falling off his horse.

"Victory to Prince Oberyn." he heard the herald announce as the crowd cheered on.

…

Alerie sat beside her daughter, watching the Dornishman unseat yet another of his opponents.

While she did enjoy Tourney's, it was hard to stomach the victories of the man that was likely behind the raids on the Reach before the King's peace.

Oberyn Martell was a loathed figure within the Reach and for good reason, unfortunately, he and his sister were far too favored by the King for any retaliation to be made. Not without them losing the King's favor.

"Mother, will the checkered knight be alright?"

"I'm sure he will, your Uncle has recovered after all."

"But he didn't lose an arm though."

"Come on dear, stop thinking of such grim things, did you not have something you wanted to say to me now your brothers aren't here?"

Margaerys perked up at her words, "Princess Rhaenys birthday will be soon, what do you think I should get her."

"Well, you've known her for longer, haven't you? Surely you already know what she likes."

"Well... She likes Edmund"

Alerie gave her daughter a dry look, why the hell was her daughter telling her something everyone already knew?

Looked embarrassed by her mother's look, Margaery moved on to another of the princess's likes "She adores Balerion."

"The Dragon?"

"The cat."

"Then wouldn't her cat like a new playmate"

Margaery looked pleased at that suggestion, kissing her mother on the cheek before rushing to her Aunt. Her assigned Royal Guard was hot on her heels.

Why was she rushing to her aunt instead of staying with her mother?

Well, obviously Alerie taught her daughter to use her sister for gold, which should take some of the sting from knowing she was getting some and she wasn't. Who was she kidding, it didn't. She would take all the satisfaction she could get, Seven damn it.

…

Gerion could practically feel victory slipping his grasp, his opponent none other than their errant vassal, Sandor Clegane. The man was relentless, they had already broken three lances off each other and neither had anything to show for it.

His next lance managed to catch the hound, if slightly. The grunt he let out at least showed the man in pain. With the fifth lance, the two Westermen faced each other with determination, as soon as the signal came they charged each other.

The hound had managed to hit him square in the chest, before the Lannister realized it he found himself unhorsed and attempting to get his bearings straight as his nephew's vassal looked down at him.

To his surprise, the hound gave him a nod of acknowledgment before moving to prepare for the final round. It seems that the Red Viper would be meeting the hound in the last tilt.

…

"Your Majesty, My Lords and Ladies, we have finally arrived at the round that will decide the victor of this Joust." the herald declared.

"Representing the West, we have Ser Sandor Clegane, the Hound!" a surprisingly large amount of the crowd cheered for the landed knight, who seemed apathetic to their reactions.

"His opponent, representing Dorne, we have Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper!"

The two men stared at each other, their lances at the ready whilst they awaited the signal.

One looked smug, whilst the other was seemingly uncaring for his opponent.

"May the best man win. Begin!" the herald said, as trumpets sounded, signaling the final round.

The charge was swift, both men's lances crashing into each other's shields with such momentum that any lesser man would've fallen then and there.

Again and again, they charged at each other, yet neither fell. Already they were fatigued from their previous bouts, it was remarkable that both men had been able to keep up for so long.

Six tilts had gone by and not a victor was in sight. The Audience watched with bated breaths for a sign of who would win.

The hound found himself struck right at his chest but stubbornly held on despite the pain wringing through his body, choosing to collect another lance, as Oberyn laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing.

Neither had faltered, charging each other once more.

This time, the Prince nearly slipped off his horse, it was a close call that had some booing in disappointment, though both men ignored the crowds. Their eyes focused on their opponent.

Determined to make this the last tilt, Oberyn steeled himself, riding down the tilt grounds with determination and hoping to avenge his embarrassment. Lance at the ready, as soon as they charged Oberyn did his best to push all he had onto the lance.

It struck true right at the hound's shield. The man barely managed to get ahold of himself, yet to the surprise of everyone, just as it seemed that he would escape his fall. He fell.

The crowds went wild as they cheered loudly for the Prince, the herald's words barely audible, "Your Majesty, My Lord and Ladies, Citizens of the Realm. I present to you the winner of the Joust, Prince Oberyn Martell."

Oberyn grinned ear to ear at those words, having avenged his embarrassment from the melee with this victory.

Giving the hound a firm nod, he headed to where the wreath of flowers lay, the personnel who stood guard over it bowed her head to Oberyn before placing the wreath onto the end of his lance.

Riding to where the Royal Family sat, he placed the wreath on the lap of the only woman who deserved it.

"Ellaria, I name you the Queen of Love and Beauty," he said, the look she gave him sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

He was going to be enjoying tonight.