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"I was hoping to ask for the princess's favor."
Valarr rolled her eyes from her seat in the royal box. Around her whispers cropped up, but she paid them no mind. The knight standing below was no one of any renown though he had unseated a Dondarrion, some cousin of hers from her mother's house. An upset that had sent the smallfolk in the crowd cheering as they always did when knights of lower rank did well.
Behind her, Baelor shifted in his seat. She turned her head towards her father but found his gaze locked squarely on the knight below. There was recognition in his eyes. That was interesting. She had not thought anything of the knight, but what had he done that her father would already know him?
Valarr got up from her seat. One of her ladies joined her scurrying after her. Her skirts scraped against the ground as she walked. She stopped at the balcony glancing down at the tiltyard.
The knight had removed his helm and revealed his face. She met blue eyes as bright and clear as the spring skies above them. He was tall, terribly so. His hair was disheveled, and his armor was simple and unadorned. Her eyes trailed over him before falling upon his shield. A green shooting star falling above a great elm tree, behind it a sunset of brilliant yellows and oranges. Not one she knew. A hedge knight most like.
"I'm afraid it is not permitted!"
The whispers doubled in volume. The angry shout echoed around the tourney field. Its owner did not leave them in suspense for long.
Aerion rode across the field. He'd abandoned his helmet but not his armor. The black armor gleamed in the spring sun. His cloak whipped behind him, the scarlet edge dancing like flames.
Valarr could hear her uncle cursing behind her, but she did not turn her head. Instead she held her chin high letting what was happening below her play out. If her uncle wished to interrupt, he could do so himself. She would not do it for him. Aerion's actions were not hers to control, but they were hers to witness.
The knight did not stumble back but rather held his ground. An admirable action though perhaps stupid. Aerion was a menace even when he wasn't wroth, and wroth he was. His eyes narrowed into a glare when he stared down at the knight from his horse. Valarr had to smother a laugh behind her hand. The knight was so tall that he stood of a height with Aerion's horse. Had the pair been on equal footing on the ground, the knight would have dwarfed her cousin.
Aerion's eyes darted her way, tracking her movement, and his eyes grew incensed when he saw her covering her mouth knowing that beneath it she was laughing at him. She carelessly dropped her hand back to the balcony. Her smile grew under his glare, her canines prominent now.
"What is your name Ser?" She called down dragging her eyes back towards the tall knight. Aerion huffed.
"S-ser Duncan, Duncan the Tall, Princess." The now named knight stared up at her, eyes growing even wider. Her smile turned soft and courtly now.
The tourney field had grown quiet now. Everyone watched with bated breath. All of them wondering if she would grant the knight's request or humiliate him before the crowd.
"An apt name, Ser." Valarr replied. The knight ducking his head bashfully at her words. His cheeks bloomed a bright red.
Valarr considered her options. She had not granted her favor to any knight participating in this tourney, so it was free to give. Should she refuse the knight's request she would be seen as cruel and mocking the man. The smallfolk would say she spurned them, thought herself better than all of them. Should she grant the man her favor she would be granting an undue honor on a knight not of noble birth. If she was not careful, her actions could potentially be viewed as an insult to the nobility watching on. Each path offered different outcomes. She simply had to choose.
Aerion's horse snorted, leg kicking at the dirt. He growled curses. Valarr darted her eyes towards her cousin. His displeasure was clear as day. Her eyes moved back to Ser Duncan.
The knight was good, a beginner but one with luck. He'd unseated a few other opponents before her Dondarrion cousin challenged him, even soundly beating one on foot the turn before. If the gods smiled upon him, he could carry the day.
Her smile grew.
"Lysa, if you would."
Valarr turned towards the lady that had followed her to the balcony. A sweet girl from the Riverlands that had been her companion for a number of years and knew her word better than anyone else. Lysa nodded her head. Within moments, a bright crimson ribbon with black embroidered dragons was in her hands alongside a wreath Lysa had weaved for her before the tourney. Valarr had not planned to bestow her favor on anyone because her father and brother were not participating in this tourney, but it was best to be prepared.
Her fingers made quick work with tying the ribbon to the wreath, careful not to crush any of the blossoms Lysa had woven into the wreath. The knight would wrap her ribbon on his arm and place the wreath upon his lance, and they did not need to be tied together, but she wished to prolong the moment, knowing exactly who was watching her.
She tossed the wreath down towards the waiting knight. Around them, the crowds cheered, the smallfolk louder than the nobility. Ser Duncan fumbled to catch the wreath but managed not to drop it to the mud.
"Ride well, Ser Duncan. I shall be rooting for you." Valarr drew herself up. To all watching, it was a minstrel's song brought to life before their eyes. The beautiful princess bestowing her favor upon the gallant knight despite her family's displeasure.
Valarr reached up tucking her hair behind her ear. Her fingers lingered upon the silver streak running through her hair. She twisted it, wrapping it around her finger.
Down below, Aerion kicked his horse turning the pair of them back with a huff. He shot her a venomous look over his shoulder. Rider and horse galloped off. Valarr's smile did not drop.
The walk back to her seat was quiet. The field below cleared as the next pair stepped forward. The crowds turned their attention to the new challengers. Her father's eyes followed her. Brushing her skirts carefully, Valarr took her seat. Lysa stood at her side.
She waited until the knights below them were in place. Just before they set off, she moved. Reaching for her sleeve, she undid one of the ribbons tied to her dress. She slipped one of her rings from her fingers. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, intricate too. Two silver dragon heads pressed snout to snout with amethysts inset. She quite adored it.
Tying her dress ribbon to the ring, Valarr watched the two knights set off. The crash below as the pair met covered the words she whispered to Lysa barely turning her head towards the girl but knowing she'd get the message.
"For him."
Neither knight was unseated, and they went again. Their squires hurrying to hand them new lances. Lysa disappeared into the crowd. The ring and ribbon clutched in her hands. Her father's gaze fell onto her shoulders.
Valarr leaned back into her chair to watch the next bout. She wondered if her cousin would understand her message, or if his anger would blind him to it. She had warned him that morning. With her father and brother not participating, her favor was free to any who asked for it. It was not her fault that today the dragon had dithered and lost to the hedge knight.
The dragon ought never lose, but she too was a dragon. Today, she thinks, victory tasted sweet.