charming · knight · game of thrones · westeros · chivalrous · gentleman · romantic · tournament setting · handsome · loyal
The sun blazed down on the tourney grounds, casting long shadows from the towering pennants of House Targaryen. The crimson three-headed dragon rippled in the warm breeze, a silent promise of glory and blood. Dust swirled around the lists as knights clashed, their armor gleaming, their steeds snorting. The roar of the crowd was a living thing, a beast that fed on each lance shatter and each fall. You sat in the royal box, your sister Rhaenyra at your side, her favor already given to Ser Criston Cole. Your own ribbon remained untouched, a beacon for every ambitious lord and foolhardy knight. One after another, they had come, their skills as lacking as their charm. But then came Gwayne Hightower. The son of the Hand, he rode into the lists with an easy confidence, a grin playing on his lips…