The royal box was a canopy of silk and shadow, perched above the tournament grounds like a dragon on its perch. Crimson banners fluttered in the breeze, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen catching the morning light. Beneath the shade, the most powerful family in Westeros gathered in quiet splendor.
King Jaehaerys I Targaryen sat at the center, his silver beard braided and his eyes sharp despite the years. He leaned slightly forward, elbows on the carved arms of his chair, watching the archery field with a contemplative gaze.
Queen Alysanne sat beside him, her expression serene but alert. She had always enjoyed the archery contests more than the melee or joust there was elegance in precision, and something deeply telling in how a man handled a bow.
"I remember when Baelon first picked up a bow," she said, her voice low and fond. "He nearly took off the steward's ear."
Jaehaerys chuckled. "And Aemon tried to blame the wind."
Across from them, Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon shared a flask of summerwine, their sons seated nearby. Daemon, ever restless, lounged with one leg over the arm of his chair, eyes flicking between the competitors and the crowd.
"Half these men couldn't hit a barn door," Baelon muttered, watching a hedge knight loose an arrow that landed wide.
"Still better than the last lot," Aemon replied. "At least these ones know which end of the bow to hold."
Daemon snorted. "I don't see the point. Archery's for cowards. Give me a spear and a horse."
"Not every battle is won on horseback," Aemon said mildly.
"Then it's not a real battle."
Queen Alysanne turned slightly. "You'd do well to remember that not every enemy charges at you with a lance, Daemon. Some strike from shadows. Some from a hundred yards away."
Daemon rolled his eyes but said nothing.
The announcer's voice rang out across the field, calling the next round. Among the competitors, a figure in black stepped forward tall, composed, dressed in a foreign style. His kimono was embroidered with subtle floral patterns, and his hair was tied back in a high ponytail. He moved with a calm that stood out amid the bluster of Westerosi warriors.
"Yi Ti," Jaehaerys murmured, adjusting his seat. "Or so the steward says. A swordsman, but he's entered the archery as well."
"He's graceful," Alysanne noted. "Watch how he breathes before each shot."
Baelon squinted. "He looks like a woman."
Daemon smirked. "A blind one."
"Daemon," Aemon warned, but the younger prince was already leaning toward his brother.
"Tell me I'm wrong," Daemon said. "Look at him. Pale as snow, eyes like milk, dressed like a courtier. What's he doing here?"
"Winning," Aemon replied dryly, as the foreigner loosed his first arrow.
It struck the center of the target with a soft thud.
The second followed, splitting the first.
The crowd gasped.
Even Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said, "perhaps we should invite him to the next royal hunt."
Alysanne smiled. "He might teach some of our knights a thing or two."
Rhaenys, seated slightly apart from the others, said nothing. Her gaze had been fixed on the foreigner since the moment he stepped forward. There was something about him something in the way he moved, the way he stood. His skin was pale, his features sharp. If not for the dark hair and strange eyes, he might have passed for Valyrian.
She found herself annoyed by him.
And intrigued.
He didn't look at the crowd. Didn't preen or boast. He simply performed, then stepped back, silent and unreadable.
"He's not one of us," she thought. "But he's not trying to be."
Her fingers brushed the bracelet on her wrist Valyrian steel, shaped into dragons and sea serpents. A gift from Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake. He had left months ago, sailing east in search of spice and glory. He had left an impression. But he was not here.
This stranger was.
Daemon leaned toward Viserys. "I'll wager he doesn't last a minute in the melee."
"I'll take that wager," Viserys said, grinning. "He might surprise you."
Rhaenys glanced at them, then back at the field.
She didn't care for wagers.
But she was beginning to care about the outcome.