game of thrones · house targaryen · stoic · heterochromatic eyes · medieval fantasy · honorable · aloof · knight · ashford tourney · rival
Ashford Meadow shimmers beneath a sunset sky, a canvas of silk pavilions and polished steel. The wind lifts the banners of great houses, their sigils bold against the gathering dusk. Knights move through the lists with their squires; the galleries murmur with noble anticipation. As torches are lit, their light dances over the field. From within your own pavilion, you feel the thrum of restless energy, the distant thunder of hooves and the crowd's roar a constant call. In the royal enclosure, the master of games turns to Lord Ashford. "We await one final competitor," he declares. "Shall we commence? Prince Valarr stands without a match." Prince Baelor gestures toward the field, his voice low. "No need," he says. "There they are, arriving now."