All around the stone walls hang Targaryen flags with the three-headed dragon, and Firebearer flags, with the knight bowing low to a dragon.
The room turns out to be much larger than I expected, its like a small town.
Forges that have been cold for many years, tables, cots for rest and sleep, a kitchen still with dishes on the counter, and old food that has turned to dust.
Training dummies, full of arrows, and an armoury full of different kinds of weapons, of all shapes and sizes.
I light torches along the walls in order to see better, farther down, I see a library. No doubt most of the books eaten away by time. I know I can't stay long, the tourney starts in only a few short hours but I smile thinking about exploring it later. At least I know it's here. It could be very useful if I needed a place to hide or for supplies.
As I put out the torches and head back to my room, I can't help but let my mind wander to my ancestors and what they did in that chamber.
Did they live there? Or simply just train there? Maybe some dreams would give me an answer.
I walk into my room and see Jory eating breakfast at the table.
He yawns and motions me to join him. "Thank you for getting me breakfast Nyla. I feel a bit like a fancy lady though." He laughs and studies my appearance. "My lady, you are covered in dust! There are even cobwebs in your hair. What were you doing so early in the morning?"
I strain to think of an excuse. "I... was just on a walk. Got a bit lost is all."
His eyes narrow, but he shrugs, it's not so unusual for me to wander. "I saw your new dress, my lady. Amazing. Are you sure I can't pay Cyndi anything?"
I shake my head as I eat some fruit. "She would refuse it, Jory. I will just have to tell everyone about her shop to repay her."
He smiles. "You will be the best dressed at the tourney love. The queen herself will want to know who made your dress."
I chuckle. I'm sure the dress embroidered with dragons will raise more than a few eyebrows.
"Are you happy with your armour Jory?" I ask absently.
"It's definitely the finest set of armour I've ever owned." He frowns a little. "You aren't expecting me to win are you?"
I look up at him, not really understanding.
"The tourney." He explains. "There will be knights of the Kingsguard competing, Ser Jamie, Ser Barriston. I heard the mountain will be there. I'm only competing to represent house Stark, I'm not expecting to do well."
I shrug. "You never know." I get up from my seat and plant a kiss on his head. "Just be careful, alright?"
He nods solemnly. "Of course." He gathers his things and moves to leave. " I will see you at the tourney, my lady."
I smile and wave him goodbye. I brush my hair and clean myself up before putting my new dress on. It fits perfectly and the fabric is soft and comfortable.
I ride to the tourney with Sansa and Septa Mordane in a litter with yellow gold curtains.
Sansa and the Septa comment on my dress, and Sansa insists she will ask her Father for a dress made by Cyndi as well. Her dress is a beautiful green that brings out her red fiery hair, and I see Knights we pass by smile at her.
As we sit among other Lords and Ladies, Sansa looks at the splendour around her in amazement. "Its better than the songs!" She whispers.
The tourney is certainly a sight to behold. Hundreds of nights fill the riverside with shining armour and waving banners, their mounts dressed just as fine.
The Kingsguard ride out first their billowing white capes brazen against the dirt and mud of the field. Jamie Lannister is the only Kingsguard with gold armour shined to perfection. His smile brings a frown to my face.
Ser Gregor rides past as well. The man they call the mountain. He is the tallest and largest man I had ever laid my eyes on. Larger than Hodor back at Winterfell. I had seen him in my nightmares. Killings Targaryen children with his bare hands. I prayed to the gods he wouldn't look my way, I knew I would be violently ill if he did. The hound comes by as well, and the king's brother Lord Renly.
Sansa and the Septa talk about the other riders as they came past. But I look closely for my husband.
Finally, I spot him and the other men competing for Winterfell. His new armour shines bright and he looks handsome.
Sansa and the Septa look pleasantly surprised.
"Is that new armour Jory is wearing?" Asks the septa.
I nod with a big smile.
"He looks like a knight!" Sansa beams and I agree.
In his first joust, he rides past us and I give him my favour, a handkerchief I embroidered with the Stark sigil. I tie it to his lance.
I lean down and we kiss, earning thunderous applause from Sansa and some of the other Lords and Ladies. He does well in the competition, winning both his first and second joust. He only loses the third by a little, and I find myself being quite proud.
The jousting goes all day until dusk. By then Jory has joined us and sits beside me.
Sansa would often cry out and grab my arm if a competitor looked like he was in danger or wounded. It could be dangerous, sometimes lances would explode into splinters.
The Kingslayer rode well, much to my dismay, and the Hound and the Mountain as well.
In one round, Ser Gregor faced some young Knight of the Vale, but the Mountain's lance splintered and caught the young man in the throat. He was thrown off his horse and lay twitching in the mud before he died. Sansa gasped, and Jory held me close, some of the other ladies in the crowd cried and wept. But my stomach held strong and I didn't cry, my dreams held much worse things than a knight bleeding in the mud.
Jory pats my shoulder reassuringly. "That happens sometimes in jousts."
I nod and the tourney continues.
Soon, it was down to four competitors, The Hound, The Mountain, Ser Jamie Lannister, and the handsome Ser Loras Tyrell.
Jory whispers in my ear. "They call him the Knight of Flowers. I've heard that he doesn't enjoy the company of women, but of men." He looks disgusted, and a pit grows in my stomach. I don't hear much of those who sleep with the same gender as their own, and when I do, people talk as if they are vile because of it. I shift uncomfortably, wondering if Jory would hate me if he knew...
After a victory, Ser Loras gives Sansa a rose. "Sweet Lady," he says, "no victory is half as beautiful as you."
Sansa blushes deeply and is completely held dumbstruck by the young knight. I roll my eyes.
She doesn't notice as a man stands in front of her, staring at her. He's short in stature, with small blinking eyes that I'm sure don't miss much.
I clear my throat. "Hello," I say politely.
He gives me a smile and a nod but his gaze stays on Sansa.
Jory gives him a slight polite nod. "Lord Balish." Finally, Sansa looks up at the man. "Lady Sansa, Lady Nyla. Meet the master of coin."
His eyes don't leave Sansas face. "Nice to meet you, my Lord," Sansa says politely.
"You look just like your mother, Lady Stark." He says, his voice low. I don't like the way he looks at her, and from looking at Jorry's face, he doesn't either.
"May I?" Asks Lord Balish, gesturing to the empty spot beside Sansa.
She nods and he speaks in hushed whispers to her. I strain to hear them, but can't over the roar of the crowd.
When the tourney is over, there is a banquet for all the Lords and Ladies, but Jory and I head back to the Red Keep and fall asleep. Both exhausted from the day.