Night fell over Starfall like a velvet shroud, the castle towers casting long shadows in the moonlight.
In the audience chamber, hundreds of candles flickered in silver candelabras, illuminating the banners of the Sword and Falling Star on purple fields.
The final event of the Starfall Tourney—the poetry and music competition—was underway.
However, the chatter of nobles and the clinking of wine cups nearly drowned out the bards' songs and the melodies of lutes and fiddles.
Arthur leaned back in the high-backed chair at the head of the hall, his fingers tapping lightly on the gilded armrest.
He noticed Allyria, wearing the Crown of the Queen of Love and Beauty, dancing in the center of the floor with Beric Dondarrion. Margaery was surrounded by a swarm of suitors, and the other lady judges were busy socializing.
Compared to the fierce combat of the day, this musical competition felt more like a perfunctory formality.
Musicians played their hearts out, but no one was truly listening.
"How is Ser Loras?"
When the fiddles switched to a lively dance tune, Arthur invited Margaery to the center of the dance floor.
"His lance technique is exquisite, his will tenacious. Without aiming for his head, I would have found it difficult to win."
He paused, then added, "I held back at the end."
The maiden's hand in his palm was light as a feather. Her gold-embroidered skirt bloomed like a flower as she spun.
Arthur caught the faint scent of roses from her hair, mixed with an expensive perfume.
Margaery's eyelashes fluttered slightly.
"Thank you for your mercy. Loras is lucky; he has regained consciousness."
Her voice was like the lowest string of a harp. "The maester says he needs rest to recover fully. He's been given milk of the poppy and is asleep now."
"Good to hear he's alright."
Although accidents happen in tourneys and Arthur bore no responsibility even if Loras had suffered a mishap, pointlessly drawing the ire of a Great House was unwise. That was why Arthur had chosen to hold back.
He recalled the moment his lance struck Loras's helm, the golden rose blooming open.
"If Prince Oberyn had possessed your mercy, perhaps my other brother would be walking and running now," Margaery said.
"Fate is fickle. Accidents in the lists are hard to control," Arthur replied.
"Some accidents are hard to control; others can be avoided," Margaery said meaningfully. "Provided personal will does not run contrary to family will."
'You are destined to be Queen.' Margaery had heard this phrase more than any other growing up.
Her education, her upbringing—everything was preparation to become Queen. It was her family's arrangement, and now, her own ambition.
Margaery gazed at Allyria and Beric Dondarrion laughing and dancing not far behind Arthur.
"I envy Allyria and Edric. They can choose what they like. However, what one likes now may not bring happiness in the future."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"
"I don't know if you've heard the story of my aunt, Lynesse Hightower, and Jorah Mormont, the Lord of Bear Island."
"I met them at the victory feast in Winterfell." Arthur understood what Margaery was getting at but played along.
"Lord Jorah won the tourney at Lannisport, crowned Lynesse the Queen of Love and Beauty, and successfully proposed."
Margaery looked up into Arthur's violet eyes. If he had given the crown to me earlier, how would I have chosen?
Her grandmother's words echoed in her mind:
'Young girls are prone to losing their heads and doing foolish things, especially regarding marriage, the most important event of a lifetime.'
'Lynesse only saw a knight win her a garland with a stick. But a knight cannot win her a garland every time.'
'So, my child, let knights protect you, but let a King marry you.'
'Let knights protect you, but let a King marry you.'
'You are destined to be Queen.'
These words were both a blessing and a shackle.
Margaery pushed away the fleeting fantasy.
"Now my aunt Lynesse is in Tyrosh, serving as a concubine to a merchant prince, and Lord Jorah is exiled overseas. Both houses have been shamed."
"Uh... thank you for the reminder, my lady. I will discuss the future carefully with them." Arthur felt Margaery was generalizing a bit, but her example was indeed classic.
The music stopped abruptly. Arthur and Margaery bowed and curtseyed, then parted ways.
Returning to the head table, Arthur could finally enjoy a few drinks. He hadn't touched a drop during his preparation for the tourney.
He had just raised his silver cup when Edric suddenly popped up.
"Cousin, I want to be Lady Brienne's squire."
Arthur nearly choked on his wine. "And I want the stars in the sky," he retorted grumpily.
Edric's eyes widened. "Didn't you say you supported me?"
"Brienne is a lady, not a knight. She can't take a squire, only a handmaiden. Unless I dress you up as a girl?" Arthur said.
"You've already caused Lady Brienne enough trouble and subjected her to enough gossip."
"Cousin, you don't know Lady Brienne! She has more knightly spirit than most knights, and she fights just as well!" Edric refused to back down.
"If her horse hadn't stumbled, maybe she would have crowned herself the Queen of Love and Beauty."
"You brat." Arthur choked on his wine again.
Hearing Margaery's earlier words, he had considered letting Edric become Beric Dondarrion's squire, as in the original timeline. Although dangerous, his life would at least be secure. But seeing Edric now, the boy was dead set on Brienne.
Considering the dangers and uncertainties of following Brienne, Arthur pondered for a moment.
"I will ask Lord Selwyn's opinion. See if he is willing to take you as a squire. Since he raised Brienne, he should be able to teach you to be like her."
Arthur remembered that Lord Selwyn Tarth, the "Evenstar," mostly stayed on Tarth and didn't get involved in mainland conflicts. It would be a safe place.
Edric was initially dissatisfied, but then his eyes lit up as he realized something. "Cousin, you're the best!"
He almost jumped up but was pinned back to his seat by a look from Arthur.
Arthur barely managed a few bites of roasted peacock before being invited to dance by various noble ladies.
As the champion of the tourney and the new Sword of the Morning, he had no respite. Even eating in peace was a luxury.
After six consecutive dances, his back was soaked with sweat, his expensive silk shirt sticking to his skin.
He barely ate a few bites before being dragged back to the dance floor. Being the star of the show meant no rest, and certainly no food.
As the banquet drew to a close, the results of the competition were finally announced.
The "Blue Bard," Wat, was unanimously chosen as the champion by Allyria, Margaery, and the other judges.
The young, handsome bard was dressed entirely in blue—from boots to gloves, even his shoulder-length curly hair was dyed indigo. He was certainly distinct.
As he accepted the prize money, Arthur noticed the bard looking at Margaery with undisguised adoration.