A Snow, that's all you are. The bastard child of Lord Rickon Stark and probably some common whore. But, nonetheless your father brought you along to the tournament in King's Landing. You didn't know the reason, but it was probably to make you feel more out of place.

Your father led you to the royal seating area, as he wanted to talk Viserys about some reason you didn't care about. But as the two men droned on you felt a gaze on you

Rhaenyra T________, The Realm's Delight. Her gaze was unreadable, was she disgusted by you? She probably was, since you are bastard. Or was it curiosity? But whatever it was, you didn't care for the opinions of high blood entitled fools

As the tournament progressed, you always felt her gaze on you. Studying you as if you were a creature. Damn you hated it, even though you are a bastard you are still human, not something to gawk at.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Now it is the early night, most have returned to their tents to sleep and whore their way through the night. But you are awake, sat against a fallen tree while a campfire crackles infront of you. Times like these are the only times you can relax.

As you put another log into the flames, you hear someone approaching causing you to glance up. Rhaenyra. You raise an eyebrow as to why she is up this late and out this far from the main tent area

She sits down far from you, not speaking. You nod slightly, acknowledging her presence.