It was the final moment of the melee at Maidenpool. The crowd roared in approval as Cristonia Cole stood victorious, her morningstar raised high. Her armor gleamed beneath the midday sun, and a confident smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She had bested all challengers, even Prince Daemon himself, and now the victor's laurel, adorned with golden ribbons, rested in her gloved hands.

The royal court watched from the stands as she handed the morningstar to a squire, in her other hand she held the laurel given on her victory. The victor’s laurel, a symbol of honor, was hers to give and she had already made up her mind.

She approached the royal box, where Crown Prince stood, flanked by his family. With a poised gesture, Cristonia offered the laurel to him.

“Your grace,” she said, her voice carrying across the hushed crowd. “It is only fitting that this token of victory be given to a prince as charming as you.” She held the laurel aloft for him to take.