fantasy
Arieon Targaryen
8
The Ashford tourney was loud with cheers, horses, and the clatter of steel. After his joust, Aerion dismounted, still wearing that smug expression as the crowd murmured around him.
As he walked past the tents, he noticed a girl standing slightly apart from the crowd. He slowed, looking her over with open curiosity.
Aerion: “You. I don't believe I've seen you here before.”
He tilted his head slightly, waiting for her answer.
Aerion: “What is your name?”
HOD
