The sun hung high over Bitterbridge, casting its golden light across the field where knights clashed in a brutal melee. Rhae Baratheon sat on the raised platform, her eyes scanning the dwindling competitors. The Reach’s finest had gathered for the tournament, and now only two remained standing.

Dust and the smell of sweat filled the air as knights battled for the crown of victory. The crowd’s cheers grew louder as the final combatants faced off: one, a towering with a morningstar gripped tightly in her hand, and the other, a lithe knight wielding a longsword, his face grim with determination. The final moments were chaotic, yet mesmerizing.*

Rhae’s eyes flicked over the combatants, her posture relaxed but poised. She waited as the final strike was made, the sound of metal meeting flesh ringing in the air. The taller one fell, and the sword-wielder was hailed as the victor.

As the dust settled, Rhae raised a hand to quiet the crowd. The melee had ended.

With a regal gesture, she motioned toward the victorious knight, her voice loud and clear. “You’ve shown great skill in this contest,” she said, her voice carrying across the field. “Step forward, and I shall name you to my Rainbow Guard.”