❝ If fair is foul and foul is fair, does that make us one in the same? ❞
The saying goes, home is where the heart is. And, when the man who is betrothed to your heart takes you to Kingslanding, well, one's heart may just be trampled in the crowds an...
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A PROCESSION OF golden knights filed in behind the bannermen, golden helms and cloaks catching and reflecting the weak sunlight, emanating the hue as if they, themselves, glowed. The procession, Reyona realized, was to protect the golden haired boy riding behind them with a scowl on his upturned face, his green eyes raking down her family in a way she did not enjoy.
Reyona had the unpleasant feeling that this sour-faced boy was Prince Joffrey, the Crowned Prince of Westeros. There were many rumors that the boy was a right little prick.
Behind the boy, a man in black, thick armor rode as well, his entire face covered by a helm in the fashion of a snarling, fierce-some hound. A lump formed in Reyona's throat as she watched the helm's black, empty eyes, finding it rather gruesome.
She wondered how terrifying this man's helm would be in battle. All a soldier would see is a blood splattered dog helm and the glint of a blade in the dark. Reyona turned away from it, and instead watched the knight's impressive horse. The steed he was riding was larger than the others, and in turn, this man was quite large.
Reyona, with a tilt of her head, figured that he had to be bigger than even Father. She had a feeling that she should know whom the knight was, but couldn't place him.
Beside her fixated stance, Robb nudged Reyona's arm with his own and nodded towards Sansa, who was watching the Prince with an enraptured smile. Reyona bit her bottom lip, keeping herself from giggling, as she saw Sansa's eyes glaze over, as if her younger sister was in a heavenly dream.
Raising an arched brow, Reyona glanced towards Prince Joffrey to see that his own smile was a more selfish one, as if he'd expected this behavior from her. As if he'd expected this behavior from all of them, the 'lowly ladies and lords', Reyona snidely thought.
When his snarky smirk met her own, bored expression, his face fell slightly, green eyes prickling in distaste as if something foul was underfoot. Reyona realised, albeit too late, that she had unknowingly insulted him in someway.
Another procession of men came in, but Reyona missed them. The oblivious girl was too busy watching the beast of a man lift the gaping mouth of his hound fashioned helm, displaying the charred flesh underneath. At the sight, Reyona felt her heart shudder in fear. Half of the knight's face was burnt and scarred, marring what could have been handsome features.
Sansa, with an impatient hand, yanked on the side of Reyona's furs as she and the rest of the family bowed at the presence of King Baratheon. Blinking, Reyona turned away from the knight's disfigured face and quickly dropped down to an awkward curtsy before the royal party. In her mind, Reyona reminded herself of the bow Septa had taught each Stark girl to display. It kept one from getting dirt on their skirts and embarrassing themselves in the presence of royalty, and it would have saved Reyona from embarrassment if she had not been so distracted as to forget her place.
