When Fire Meets Ice(slow updates)

Chapter 12: The Hand's Tournament Pt.2**

INT.Tent-Tournament Grounds

POV-3rd Person

Draven Stark slowly rose from his makeshift bed, a sense of disarray lingering in the room. The left side of his temporary resting place had been neatly tidied, signaling that his overnight guest had already departed without a farewell. He wasn't surprised; she likely had a multitude of obligations to attend to. Meanwhile, Charles's loyal squire and stable hand, Gage, paced the room with a sense of urgency, as if he were in search of something important.

"Gage, what are you doing?" Draven inquired, his voice still tinged with the remnants of sleep.

Gage halted his restless movement and turned towards him, a hint of anxiety in his eyes. "Ser Charles has sent me, my lord. He's requested that I retrieve the victor's crown, the one fashioned from winter's roses."

Draven furrowed his brow, puzzled by this unexpected request. "Victor's crown?" he mused to himself. The notion of such an item perplexed him. "And why, pray tell, would I possess such a thing?"

The squire hesitated, perhaps unsure how to deliver the message. "Ser Charles mentioned that he left it in your tent," Gage replied, keeping his eyes averted as Draven began to dress himself.

Draven couldn't help but let out a knowing smirk at the revelation. He was well aware of the close bond between  Charles and the renowned Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell. It was no secret that Loras's heart belonged to Renly Baratheon, making any competition from the Baelish boy futile. Draven wasn't surprised that the coveted crown had been acquired from House Tyrell, renowned for their stunning gardens and the most exquisite of flowers.

"So, do you have it?" Gage asked his eyes still averted.

 "I'm afraid not," Draven revealed as he finished dressing.

Gage nodded, "I suppose I'll have to inform Ser Charles of this." 

As Gage departed, his footsteps echoing away from Draven's tent, the lord couldn't help but imagine the impending awkwardness that the young squire might encounter in Charles's quest for the victor's crown. Draven knew all too well that such a prized possession held great significance in the upcoming tournament. The crown, when awarded to the victor of the tournament, was meant to be placed upon the head of a woman of the victor's choosing. This tradition would name her the Queen of Love and Beauty, a title of great honor and prestige.

Draven strode towards the mannequin that held his armor, his eyes immediately drawn to the familiar sight of Queen Cersei's favor still gracefully tied around the arm. As he looked around the tent, his gaze fell on the disheveled pile of clothes scattered haphazardly on the ground. The memory of the previous night's activities played out in his mind, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he recalled every detail. 

Last Night

Draven found himself in a dimly lit tent, the flickering of a solitary candle casting dancing shadows on the rough canvas walls. The aroma of wine hung in the air a sweet and earthy scent. He reclined on a makeshift bed, a patchwork of furs and blankets that provided comfort. A battered table stood beside him. On it, a pitcher held the precious elixir that was both solace and sustenance for him on this night. Draven's hand, wrapped around the wine goblet. His fingers traced the intricate patterns etched into the metal as he raised the cup to his lips. As he savored the wine, Draven couldn't help but wince. A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through his forehead, a reminder of the gash he had suffered earlier in the day. 

He sighed and stared at his armor that rested in one area of the tent he couldn't help but stare at the red Lannister scarf that was wrapped around the arm of his dark armor and think of the woman who gave it to him; Queen Cersei Lannister. She's been occupying his thoughts since she tied that red scarf around the armor for him, he was thankful for the Queen's favor in the tournament but a little part of him still wished that he had obtained the favor of his sister Sansa.