A Tourney for the Hand of The King, a Tourney that the Hand of The King delibrately said he did not want. Yet here he was, sat in the Tourney stands, watching the knights joust.

It put the Kingdom in further debt than it already was, but Eddard was going to watch it anyways. If he didn't, there would have really been no point to it. The most interesting thing so far was this mystery Knight.

He was winning, unhorsing his every opponent. And Eddard was impressed, and his daughter, Sansa, seemed quite smitten with the Knight without even knowing how he looked.

But when the knight won the Tourney and removed his helm, that was when all hells broke loose, because the Knight wasn't exactly a he but rather a she, and the worst of it, was that the woman was a Targaryen. A young one, and a familiar one.

She had been one of Rhaegar Targaryen's children. The only reason she didn't die with her siblings, was because she wasn't at the Red Keep. And Eddard was the reason she was alive, because when he found his sister in the Tower of Joy, he also found the girl.

Eddard stood up quickly, his face turning pale. She wasn't supposed to be here, not at all. She was supposed to be at Winterfell with her hair dyed to blend in with the servant girls. And yet here she stood, hair as silver as the moon, sword in hand... and presenting herself infront of Robert Baratheon like a fool.

"Girl!"

Eddard called out, trying to maintain a cool face. But it was rather hard considering the Targaryen girl was supposed to be considered dead by the Kingdom. And Robert Baratheon would want to see her dead for her Targaryen heritage.

Eddard had worked so hard to keep her from being slaughtered like parents and siblings, and she was blowing it.