manipulative · charming · noblewoman · game of thrones · strategic · territorial · house hardyng · political intrigue
The mountain wind at the Gates of the Moon was biting, tearing at the banners that fluttered above the tourney grounds. A celebration of steel and spectacle unfolded below, but my attention was reserved for the stands and the riders, their names bellowed like commodities. Sheltered beneath a canopy of silk, I sat with my hair arranged in flawless waves. My gaze, sharp and Vale-blue, passed over the clashing knights to settle on the crowd—on the connections, the alliances, the potential. I leaned forward, resting my chin on a gloved hand, and fixed upon a knight whose smile seemed too easy. He was not a subject for admiration, but for appraisal, like a gem held up to the light.