Chapter 332: The First Match of the Tourney

After three days of rest for the guests who had traveled from afar, the long-anticipated tourney was officially convened.

On the north shore of God's Eye Lake, an oval white stone building stood. Built over several months, this martial arts arena was larger and more spacious than any other in the kingdom.

In the center of the arena was an eye-shaped open space for the knights to fight. The spectator stands on either side rose in terraced layers, reaching thirty feet in the air and holding up to thirty thousand people.

Early in the morning, nobles eager for the event left the gates of Harrenhal and rushed to the arena to secure their seats. The martial arts field quickly filled with a clamoring and vibrant crowd.

To one side of the arena was a separate, elevated area with a spacious platform that provided the best view. King Viserys, clad in black robes and wearing a golden crown, sat in the main seat.

Soon, Alicent and a group of royal advisors arrived and surrounded the king.

"This arena is impressive, quite magnificent," Viserys remarked, looking around and initiating conversation.

Otto agreed, "Indeed, it would be hard to find a better arena for fighting in all the Seven Kingdoms."

Viserys laughed, pleased with the magnificence of the arena. "You're right."

After some light conversation, Viserys looked around and asked, "Where are Rhaegar and Rhaenyra? They haven't arrived yet?"

The eldest son was the protagonist of the tournament, and being late would not look good.

"They should be here soon. I saw them in the Flowstone Yard this morning," Alicent replied hesitantly.

In a few moments, the platform was filled with people—royal advisers, lords and their families from all realms, and famous young talents from the Seven Kingdoms.

In a few moments, the platform was filled with people.

Royal advisers, Lords and their families from all realms, and famous young talents from the seven kingdoms...

Roar--

Abruptly, a loud and clear dragon roar resounded across the northern shore of God's Eye Lake, and a fierce wind carrying shadows enveloped the martial arts scene.

The noble ladies covered their skirts and looked up in alarm.

A huge dragon as black as charcoal soared over the turquoise-colored lake, its wings like dark clouds covering the sky, overlooking the beings below with cold indifference.

The pair of green vertical pupils as huge as copper bells, paired with the grayish, curved horns on the hideous dragon's head, was like an evil god.

Some people recognized the origin of the pitch-black dragon and let out cheers and shouts.

More nobles and knights of the kingdom had not yet seen Cannibal, and held their breath in silence.

Roar...

Another high-pitched dragon roar came, golden scales glistening and glowing in the sunlight as they soared together around the pitch-black dragon.

The two dragons slowly circled above the martial arts arena, the pitch black and golden yellow entangled with each other, like two dragons dancing together.

Roar-

Cannibal roared in a low voice, its huge body rotated on its flanks for a week without losing its flexibility, and a mouthful of ghostly green Dragonfire cut through the long white clouds.

Boom--

The dragonfire raised the temperature, and the Cannibal landed outside the high wall at the side of the martial arts arena, closing the black wings that could stir up the wind with a light tap.

As his feet hit the ground, the black scales that covered the dragon's spine remained above the white stone walls, revealing the silver-haired figure in the saddle.

Syrax circled alone and flew lightly to the Cannibal, its feet stepping right on the platform at the top of the high wall.

With all eyes on him, Rhaegar stepped off the dragon's back and looked over the platform at Rhaenyra on Syrax's back.

For today's match, Rhaegar was dressed in a black dragon scale armor, scarlet cloak on his shoulders, and his long silver-gold hair was naturally draped.

Rhaenyra was ably dressed, a corseted black suit with a streamlined skirt, her long hair braided into a braid that hung behind her head.

"How are you today?" Rhaegar gently hugged down Rhaenyra, asking as if flirting.

The corner of Rhaenyra's lips sketched a smile, confidently saying, "Fine."

After three days of comfort, her irritable mind was finally relieved.

The siblings walked arm in arm down the top platform, following the white steps of the audience platform straight to the observation deck where their father stood.

Ignoring the various looks from both sides, Rhaegar sniffed at Rhaenyra's hair and smiled, "It's working well."

"This stuff will give you a few good nights sleep."

Rhaenyra crossed her eyes at him, her white palms slapping the pockets of her robes.

To calm Rhaenyra's spirits, Rhaega has contributed the long-cherished powder of the Soul Restoring Orchid.

Sprinkle a little on your pillow before bed and you're guaranteed a fragrant night's sleep.

Rhaegar's dark circles have disappeared in large part due to the support of the scented powder.

...

On the viewing platform, the crowd was already seated. Viserys sat in the main seat, with Alicent and Otto to his left and right. Several royal advisers sat behind the king, chatting with the neighboring great nobles. To the right of Viserys, representing nobility, sat the Sea Snake Corlys and Rhaenys. Two rows of chairs split into two columns further ahead accommodated some noble ladies and their small gatherings.

"Father," Rhaegar greeted with a faint smile as he descended the steps.

Viserys looked disconcerted, seemingly angered over something, his grip on the wine cup so tight that beads of blood oozed from a cut on his palm.

Alicent held her husband's hand, concern in her voice, "Viserys, don't think about what's bothering you. The tournament is about to begin."

Viserys dissipated his anger, looking at his eldest son with a forced smile, "Sit down first, it will soon be your turn in the ring."

Rhaegar raised an eyebrow and retreated to his seat without a word. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the Master of Whisperers, Tormund, was absent, indicating something had happened.

A light footstep rang out, accompanied by a breathtakingly soft and ethereal scent. Margaery, with exquisite makeup, walked in, carrying the hem of her red dress and swaying her light red curls.

"Prince, you look really handsome in your armor. I haven't seen a man more powerful than you in the Riverlands," Margaery said, offering her compliments with a slight smile.

Rhaegar smiled politely and joked, "Thank you for the compliment. I haven't seen a man more imposing than me in the Crownlands either."

Daemon, the notable exception, had been beaten by Rhaegar.

"Hee hee, I like your witty humor."

Margaery laughed lightly, taking advantage of Rhaegar's brief distraction to step forward. Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted two kisses on his cheeks.

Rhaegar instantly stiffened, pushing her away gently, his voice deep, "Lady Margaery, you are too enthusiastic."

He hastily wiped the lipstick marks from his cheeks, avoiding Rhaenyra's gaze entirely.

"Sorry, I just wanted to send a blessing before you went on," Margaery curtsied apologetically, her eyes hinting at girlish shyness.

Quite a few people noticed this exchange, casting curious glances. Viserys, especially, stared at Margaery in amazement, marveling at the boldness of young girls nowadays.

Rhaegar's entire body went numb, stiffening as he wiped off the lipstick marks. He had just managed to adjust Rhaenyra's mindset and didn't want to complicate things further with Margaery's bold display.

"Don't rub it off, it's quite pretty."

A small hand grasped his wrist, and Rhaenyra's voice whispered in his ear.

Rhaegar turned in surprise to see Rhaenyra smiling serenely, her gaze calm and assessing.

"Keep it," she said, glancing around before continuing, "don't let Miss Margaery down."

"Are you sure?" Rhaegar frowned, feeling a mix of confusion, curiosity and worry.

"Of course."

Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow and turned to Margaery, whispering, "Thank you for the gift, showing me the passion of a Highgarden Rose."

"You're welcome. No one can resist the beauty of a Highgarden Rose," Margaery replied, her red lips curling into a smile. "Prince, you've rarely gone out lately, so you might not know the current situation."

She winked playfully at Rhaegar, subtly pointing with a finger hidden under her cuff.

Rhaegar followed her gaze suspiciously to the back row of seats where several familiar figures gathered. Among them were Ormund Hightower, Jason Lannister, the Lord of Swann, and the Lord of Dondarrion from Blackhaven.

Aegon sat alone in a corner, flanked by two of Old Lord Tully's wastrel sons and two bastards from House Baratheon. Aegon looked annoyed as the Tully sons babbled around him, while the Baratheon bastards were expressionless, occasionally glancing down at the four sisters with Aemond and Cassandra.

At first glance, nothing seemed amiss, but Rhaegar sensed something different.

"Thank you, Lady Margaery," he said, managing a smile.

"You're welcome. Highgarden will always be your solid support," Margaery replied with a curtsy before leaving.

Rhaenyra watched her return to her seat, then took Rhaegar's hand and sat across from the Sea Snake couple. "No wiping off the lipstick until the sun rises tomorrow," she said faintly.

Rhaegar: ....

...

After the brief exchange, the tournament officially commenced.

King Viserys opened with a rousing speech that ignited the audience's excitement, elevating the atmosphere to a fever pitch.

The first match was announced by an obese middle-aged referee dressed in lavish red silk. He called the competitors to the field with grandiose flair.

Two knights, clad in gleaming armor, rode in on one black and one white warhorse, greeting the cheering crowd with wooden lances held high.

The referee raised his scepter and proclaimed, "First match! Welcome Lord Cregan of House Stark from the North and the Commander of the Stepstones Islands, Ser Criston Cole!"

Rhaegar perked up, adjusting his position for a better view.

In the arena, Cregan Stark, clad in worn plate armor marked by numerous scratches, rode a pitch-black warhorse. Across from him, Ser Criston Cole, donning silver-gray plate armor, lifted his visor to reveal a confident, handsome face.

The tournament traditionally included three main events: knight duels, archery, and group battles. To kick things off, a duel between two formidable knights served as the warm-up.

The gong sounded, signaling the start of the match. The knights took their positions on either side of a wooden barrier, raising their lances in readiness.

"Phew..."

The warhorses stepped forward simultaneously, their riders poised for the charge.

Cregan leaned forward, his black eyes locked onto his opponent, his breathing steady and focused.

The warhorses thundered towards each other, closing the distance rapidly.

Halfway through the charge, black and white clashed.

Crack!

A lance splintered upon impact, wood fragments scattering through the air, accompanied by the distressed neighing of the warhorses.

(Word count: 1,815)