A day with royalty

"Your graces," Doran bows to the king and queen. The two smile at him and invite him to sit down.

"Sit down prince Doran, an appetizer?"

Doran sits next to the king and accepts the food, a servant brings him a tray with different sweets, he takes a lemon tart.

"Those are my favorites." comments the queen.

"And mine! The cooks at Sunspear always sneak me some when they make them." says the prince happily.

The monarchs laugh.

"Yes, I remember when I was young and I would sneak into the kitchens to eat my favorite sweets." says Prince Duncan, who is sitting next to his mother. The three are the only Targaryens present.

"You say as if you do not do it anymore," jokes the king.

Doran spends the morning sitting with the monarchs watching the competition, a couple of hours later the Stark arrive and are invited to sit with them as well. Doran strikes up a conversation with Rickard, and even gets the pup to perk up! Doran notices that Rickard is into archery so he enjoys talking about it.

`So he is only quiet when the topics of conversation do not interest him`

By noon there are only four opponents left: Harry Harrow of the Iron Islands, Lucerys Velaryon, Rodrik Stark and Davos Sand.

"Who do you think will win, my king?" Lord Stark asks the king.

"All four opponents have shown great skill so far, if I were to bet on anyone it would be Lord Rodrik or Ser Lucerys."

The day before Lucerys Velaryon won two jousts, one against Ser Harren of the Kingsguard; For such a feat, Prince Duncan made his squire a knight.

Lord Rodrik, better known as the Wandering wolf, is the uncle of Lord Edwyle Stark. Lord Rodrik is known for never standing still, as a child he had a great passion for travels and as soon as he became an adult he started to wander across all Westeros.

Doran met him almost two years ago when he visited Sunspear, the memory is very vivid in his mind because it is the first time that he really hated living in a world without bleach.

`My poor eyes! My innocent eyes!`

Doran entered into Lord Rodrik, his wife Arya, and Arron Martell having a Ménage à trois. He is still traumatized by the memory.

And just for that Doran doesn't want Rodrik to win the contest. He motions for Lothar to come over.

"Bet 10 golden dragons on Velaryon," he whispers to him, handing him a bag of coins.

He would bet more but he only brought 50 golden dragons with him and he already bet 30 on the winner of the jousting.

`15 in ser Duncan and 15 in dad.`

"I also bet on Lucerys." the king whispers with a knowing smile.

The fourth round begins, the targets are at 90 meters.

"It's a long distance." comments Lord Stark.

"Yes, but at least they are stationary targets." answers Prince Duncan. "In battle the targets move everywhere."

"Then why not use moving targets in the contest?" Doran asks.

"And how would we build that?" the queen asks.

Doran explains his ideas, they could have someone throw objects into the air or have targets dangling from rope and pushed so they swing.

"Yes, that would make the archery contest more interesting." Aegon nods in agreement.

The others look at Doran with interest in their eyes, realizing that the rumors of his intelligence are not just hearsay.

The first opponent to shoot is Lord Rodrik Stark. His first arrow falls short, his second hits the target but his third goes too far to the left.

"Almost!" Rickard yells excitedly.

"Yes, if the wind hadn't blown that arrow would have hit the target squarely." The queen comments, Doran looks at her questioningly and the queen notices his look.

"Surprised that a woman knows about men's things." the queen jokes. Doran blushes a bit and is quick to reply.

"No, my queen. At home I am surrounded by warrior women. It's just that I've been told that outside of Dorne women don't often practice martial arts."

"Oh, yes. A lot of ladies would faint just by touching a blade." The queen laughs, "But not all."

"Yes, even north of Dorne there are warrior women. The grandmother of your Lannister friends, Lady Rohanne, was a great archer." says the king, when he notices his wife staring at him he is quick to add: "And of course my beloved wife is lethal with a bow."

Prince Duncan covers his laughter with a cough and Doran bites his lip.

`Even kings fear the wrath of their wives`

The next archer is Harry Harrow of the Iron Islands. The ironborn misses all of his shots and breaks his bow in frustration, before sulking away.

"Ay," says Lord Stark.

"That was a good bow, Goldenheart if my eyesight does not fail." The king watches with half-closed eyes.

Goldenheart is a rare wood from the Summer Islands, bows made from it have more range than any other bow.

"Goldheart. Then it's not surprising he sent the arrows that far."

Harry Harrow's three shots went too far, missing the target by several yards.

"What a waste," the queen says, glancing disdainfully at the ironborn as he hurries away from the archery grounds.

The next opponent is Davos Sand, bastard of some Dornish lord or lady. Like Harrow, Ser Sand misses all of his shots.

"Only Luke remains."

"Do you have hopes in the victory of your former squire, Prince Duncan?" asks Lord Stark.

"Not really, to be honest," the prince acknowledges. "He's a good archer, one of the best I've seen, but he's still young and his arms aren't that strong."

`So he doubts that Lucerys's arrows will reach the target,' notes Doran.

Lucerys misses his first and second shots but his third hits squarely on the bullseye.

"Yes!" Doran gets up and applauds.

Lord Rodrik's arrow hit the target but Lucerys's hit the bullseye. The winner is clear.

"I don't know if it was luck or skill." acknowledges Prince Duncan as he applauds.

"His bow may have the same runes as Lord Royce's armor." Doran jokes getting a laugh out of everyone.

"I swear that armor is magic," he hears the king mutter.

After the award ceremony the king and his family return to the Red Keep, Lord Stark and his wife accompany him but Rickard stays with Doran, who invites him to spend the afternoon visiting the stalls with him. Two Stark guards remain to protect the heir to the North.