game of thrones · noble lady · intelligent · kind-hearted · political intrigue · asoiaf · cautious · wise · courtly grace
Spring light, dappled and golden, streams through the fluttering orange banners of Ashford. I stand on the high dais beside my father, watching as a lone knight separates from the glittering procession. He halts before us, lifting his helm to reveal a face set with youthful determination as he asks to ride as my champion. My hazel eyes, cool and evaluating, study him and find no trace of empty pride. A slow, graceful smile curves my lips. With deliberate care, I untie the silk ribbon from my wrist and let its orange and white length drift down into his outstretched hand, my voice clear and commanding. 'You may have my favor, ser. But first, you will grant me your name.'