The Tournament

"Welcome, people of Solara. Today, we gather to witness the bravery of our men as they vie for the hand of a celestial beauty, a true daughter of the heavens, our very own living goddess," Tywin addressed the eager crowd within the sun-kissed underground arena.

As Lillian stepped into the radiant light, her gown shimmered like moonbeams on a calm sea, drawing a collective gasp from the captivated audience. The delicate lace of her dress traced ethereal patterns, casting an enchanting spell that held everyone in rapt attention.

The arena, bathed in scorching sunlight, was a labyrinthine space filled with eager spectators whose murmurs of admiration swelled into a harmonious symphony.

"This tournament shall test the mettle of each contender, a gladiatorial spectacle where the last warrior standing will claim the ultimate prize, after facing off against my formidable champion, of course. However, there is a chance for these brave men to alter their fates. The gate shall open at five-minute intervals, affording them a fleeting opportunity to escape certain peril. If any of them decide to change there minds they are given the opportunity to do so. Now let the games begin!!" Tywin declared, igniting a frenzy of cheers from the excited crowd.

Tywin lead Lillian up a flight of stairs that provided a vantage point over the arena, shielding them from the scorching sun. Only problem for Lillian was that it was also the same place Tywin and his cronies all sat.

Seated beside Tywin, She fixed her gaze on the unfolding spectacle in the arena, her mind swirling with uncertainty. Unsure whether to pray to the Diviner for a contestant to win her or to stay by Tywin's side, she grappled with the knowledge that he was the cruelest person she had ever known. Yet, somewhere in her heart, she held onto the belief that others could be even worse, though she couldn't be certain. For now, all she could do was watch as the tournament unfolded.

One by one, the contenders strode into the arena, adorned in armor that proudly displayed the emblems of their houses. Some wielded swords, while others brandished spears and battle axes, each determined to claim victory by any means necessary.

Tension hung heavy in the air, the collective anticipation palpable as the combatants tightened their grips on their weapons, their eyes reflecting a mix of resolve and trepidation.

As the massive iron gate sealed shut behind them, the contestants immediately engaged in fierce combat, each fighting to fend off any who dared challenge their claim to victory.

Observing the melee, Lillian couldn't help but find the spectacle foolish. These men fought to the death for her, yet none would ever claim her.

"My champion has triumphed in several gladiatorial combats. I'm certain he'll seize this victory as well," one of Tywin's cronies boasted.

Almost instantly, a contestant's throat was slit open in the ring, and he fell to his knees, eliciting a frenzied roar from the crowd. Judging from the annoyance that flickered across the man's face, Lillian knew this fallen fighter was his.

Unable to restrain herself, Lillian taunted, "A pity, my lord. Looks like I won't be gracing your bed tonight after all." Her voice dripping with mockery.

Tywin chuckled at her retort, taking a leisurely sip of the generously poured wine. Meanwhile, his crony Pierre seethed with anger, shifting his attention back to the ongoing chaos in the ring.

The first five minutes slipped away, leaving several corpses scattered across the ring. However, the majority of the combatants remained, fueling the audience's fervor as the massive iron gates creaked open.

Anticipation crackled in the air, yet not a single soul made a dash for the exit. With the gates closing once more, the battle raged on, igniting the already electric atmosphere even further.

Lillian's gaze flitted from one combatant to another, observing the ebb and flow of battle, until one man's peculiar behavior seized her attention.

Unarmored, clad only in a simple white shirt, he wielded no weapon, a fact that left Lillian bewildered. Was this man utterly mad?

Yet, as he moved with a seemingly effortless grace, evading attacks and dispatching opponents with mere punches and shoves, she couldn't help but be impressed.

Strangely, his adversaries, though unharmed, struggled to regain their footing after his blows.

Intrigued, Lillian's focus remained fixed solely on this mysterious figure, her curiosity piqued as the tournament continued.

The massive iron gates swung open once more, offering an escape from certain death to those who dared to take it. With bated breath, the audience watched as ten contenders seized the chance to leave the ring, leaving Lillian relieved that her mysterious man opted to stay.

A sudden outburst from one of Tywin's cronies jolted everyone nearby.

"Get your sorry ass back in that ring, you coward! I didn't hire you to cower like a frightened child," the man bellowed, startling the surrounding spectators.

Lillian couldn't resist delivering another cutting retort, her laughter laced with mockery.

"But alas the real coward here is you. If not, you'd be in that ring fighting by yourself," she taunted, goading Bassett, the furious man in question.

"Correct your thing Tywin, or I will." Bassett snarled, locking his glare onto Lillian.

Expecting Tywin to lunge at her once more, Lillian was taken aback by his unexpected response.

"Lay a hand on her, Bassett, and this goblet will find a new purpose as it smashes through your skull," Tywin threatened, his words sending a shockwave through the tense atmosphere. Without a glance in Lillian's direction, he calmly resumed sipping from his goblet, unfazed by the exchange.

Lillian observed as Bassett visibly swallowed, retreating back into his seat, casting a perplexed glance at Tywin. Tywin, however, remained fixated on the ongoing spectacle in the ring, his composure unyielding.