Harrenhal, another tourney, another reason to wish he could slam his head against the closest wall — at least then he would not have to go through so much.

King Aerys looked like he was one step away from burning Arthur alive with his eyes only, and he didn't doubt that the old man would start spewing wildfire from his mouth if he could. Rhaegar was no better, the conversations of prophecies and omens always following the prince like a ghost on his shoulders.

Ashara, his dear sister, also bothered him to no end. The girl was the source of all gossip, talking more than her mouth could follow, and for a few moments deep into his conversation with his sister he couldn't help but look away from her.

The feast was in full swing, and Arthur had abandoned his white cloak for the time being. One of the perks of entering the jousts included not having to be necessarily sober, and he nursed a cup of Dornish Red — he didn't know the next time he would be able to do so.

Despite the fact that he was off-duty, he was always watching. His gaze flickered from one corner of the large tent to another, looking out for threats that no one else would seem to care about. The king had grown to harbor more enemies than he did friends in the last few moons, and while Arthur could not handle the stress of serving a mad man, he was still as loyal as a hound.

Arthur sighed, turning his attention back to Ashara, who, miraculously, was still talking about her time in Dragonstone. Smells like fish and sulfur, from what he gathered from all that she had said, and Lady Velaryon was a whore.

He rolled his eyes, scoffing a little under his breath, hoping, praying that something would save him from that torture.

Until the Gods seemed to listen to his prayers.

"Watch it, stupid!"

The words of a minor lord echoed, reaching his ears, and Arthur was on his feet before he could help himself, pushing his way through the seas of people. Upon arriving at the spot, he noticed a servant on the ground — you — picking up the pieces of a broken chalice.

Wine soaked the man, and the lord sneered under his nose. "Are you blind, or perhaps deaf? I told you to apologize!"

Oh, no.

Arthur stepped forward, holding an arm out to keep the lord from stepping any closer to your form. His gaze was stern, the kind that made any man and woman freeze under the sight of it.

"This won't happen again, My Lord, I assure you. Now, I advise you to change your clothing, we don't want you to be drenched in wine for the rest of the evening, do we?"

His words seemed to make the lord back down, and the people who had once surrounded the area scurried away soon after — none of them wanted to be caught by the anger of the deadliest knight in the Kingsguard.

Arthur sighed once everyone returned to their business, and he reached down to kneel by your side, eyes searching your own.

"Are you alright?"