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A Collaborative Post between [@ViolentViolet] and [@Nightwing95][/center]

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The dragon circled above them, barely larger than a falcon, though it's gold scales shone in the early morning light. It turned, angling downward until it came to rest on the stone pathway of the private gardens. It's tail swung back and forth like a dogs, it's maw parted as if it was tired though a small cloud of smoke erupted from it's throat as it burped. The dragon reminded the young woman of a child, much like her daughter who sat in the grass right then, watching the young dragon with fascination in her eyes. Illysia's lips curled up in a rare smile, nothing false in her expression of fondness as she watched Tatyanna play with Mordrid, lips parted slightly. Full lips red as ever, she wore an open backed dress, a soft silver that matched her hair, following her bust and waist closely before flaring at her hips and descending to the ground in a soft curtain of stars. Violet eyes reflected the dragon as it paced around the small girl, allowing her to touch his scales and pull on his tail. Tatyanna had already met her dragon surprisingly, whereas Illysia had yet to ride a dragon, or be chosen by a single one. Both Vrash and Exoldan had both expressed an interest in her being their rider, though neither was large enough for her to ride now. Both nearly the size of a pony, larger than the Tully boys bear, but not strong enough to carry themselves and her. 

Ser Arton Velaryon made his way into the private garden of the keep, enjoying the minuscule free time that the early morning hours allowed him to his fullest ability. The first hearings from the King would only start in two hours time and the grandest venue of the day was without question the Royal Tourney, in which the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms would test their strength in arms and seek glory before the cheering audience of Kings Landing, or shame themselves as they fell upon the sands of the list. 

Dressed in a simple, pale gambeson, his sword present on his hip, he made his way towards Illysia, who was watching proudly over her daughter while surrounded by the majestic creatures that were pictured in every Targaryen Heraldry. It was a rare occasion for the Whitecloak to lay eyes upon the girl that many of the more gossiping servants called the Princess in the Tower, despite being the Blackfyres Shield for the better part of the year. Word had it that Lady Commander and her Right Hand Man, Leofric the Loyal, constantly negotiated with Illysia for a Kingsguard post by the Nursery, although she turned them down every time, opting for a more discreet route of using spies that answered only to her and the Master of Whispers as guardians.

But now could clearly see the resemblance with her mother. Arton noticed that during the past week she opted for a more Valyrian style in fashion, as if to differentiate herself from the main branch of the family that followed the Dornish Influence when it came to clothing. [color=#006994]"Good day, my ladies. I hope I am not disturbing your morning leisure..."[/color] he said politely, smoothing out his gambeson.  

Illysia had heard the approach of the young man from the other side of the garden, no longer wearing his plate mail since today was a day not of duty but of fun and sport. He along with several others, would be participating in the King's Tourney in celebration of the Wards arrival in the capitol. Naturally, he would seek her out on that morning, for what she already knew. Vrash landed not far from the man, regarding him with intelligent eyes. The beast did not attack him, strangely enough, as she would have any other person who got this close to the young Tatyanna. The dragons were protective of the child they had seen birthed, had bathed with in water and fire. They loved Illysia as she did them; they protected her better than any Knight had ever before. 

[color=darkorchid]"Arton, of course,"[/color] The Blackfyre lady turned to look at the knight, her gaze over her shoulder from where she sat on the carved wood bench beneath a tree. She was shadowed while the sunlight danced on her fair haired daughter. Silver hair swept over her right shoulder, one could see the outline of scales between her shoulder blades, something that most Targaryen often grew out of. This lady was proud of the mark of the dragon on her body, often going to great lengths to show it off, though she rarely would tie her hair up like a Dornish woman. Much of her wardrobe was exclusively Valyrian, some items made of Dornish Silk in the reds and blacks of the Targaryen and Blackfyre Houses. Her favourite was a cloak made of deep red silk, black flames embroidered on the hems, the Blackfyre sigil on the back. She rarely wore it here, with no need to since everyone inside the castle knew who she was. When she had cause to leave the Red Keep, she would wear the cloak, proclaiming that she is the beginning of House Blackfyre once again. 

[color=darkorchid]"You have never disturbed my peace Sir Arton Velaryon. Your presences is another to watch over my daughter."[/color] Illysia didn't remember much of her own childhood before her parents were gone, not one memory of her mother watching her play in the gardens. Perhaps it was because she was young, or maybe she had never played as Tatyanna was now. The girl didn't get out enough, since Illysia forbid anyone from touching her apart from Freya when she was not there, and none could get near the child without her mother there. It would not be a free childhood, but hopefully a happy one for her. [color=darkorchid]"How many of the Wards intend to participate this afternoon?"[/color]

[color=#006994]"Surprisingly enough, the Tourney and the following celebrations haven't been the center of discussion between the Wards..." [/color]Arton proclaimed as he stepped carefully around the Dragons. It wasn't just legends after all, that Dragons are intelligent creatures that meant no harm towards a friend, but were ferocious against an enemy. The Whitecloak could only guess by their demeanor that they at least didn't consider him a threat.

[color=#006994]"While none of them seems interest for the Joust, I am sure that Elden Rowan and the Baratheon heir will attempt to make a name of themselves in the Melee,"[/color] he said as he took a seat besides the truly ethereal Blackfyre. Arton couldn't imagine how priveleged he ended up being shortly after his induction to the Kingsguard. While he heard of the rumors about Illysias many lovers, a small part of himself believed that every time he shared her bed he was somewhat...special. You could call it nativity, but whenever the Velaryon held her soft body within his embrace, most of his senses and rationality seemed to shut off. [color=#006994]"But I am not her to speak about the Wards. If I may be so bold, I need to ask you something..."[/color] and after taking a page from Leofrics book, Arton left the flowery words for later and took a small rosebud from the nearby bush, before leaving his seated position to sink onto one knee before Illysia [color=#006994]"Lady Blackfyre, would you grant the honor to this knight before you, to carry your Favour?" [/color]

[color=darkorchid]"How odd,  I had assumed the young lords would be boasting of their combat prowess and the ladies to be fawning over the particularily handsome knights."[/color] Illysia nearly smirked, her natural smile seeming to fade in his presence. She was thinking of how she could exploit the boys, or even use the girls to her own advantage. When the man circled around her, leaving his seat on the bench she raised an eyebrow in intrigue. It wasn't often that the young man would do anything she didn't easily predict or already know before he knew what he would do. 

Her favour? This perhaps was the first time a knight who knew who she was asked for her favour, possibly even the last, though she had planned to silently cheer for him in the competition regardless of this. Her smirk was replaced by an astonished expression, her alabaster cheeks taking on a light pink hue in her own embarrassment. For the first time in a long while the Blackfyre did not know how to respond to something so lavishly asked of her. Even Leofric had never been able to embarrass her or render her speechless. Even the dragons and Tatyanna were silent, staring with wide, confused eyes at their mother, not understanding what it was that had put such an expression on her face. 

A delicate hand fluttered in the air beside her for a moment, debating the pros and cons silently, the light breeze pushing loose petals through the air around her, fallen from the cherry blossom tree she sat beneath. As if making her final decision, not allowing herself to go back on it, her hand darted to her hair where there was a ribbon tied there, it matched the colour of her eyes. As she pulled it out, one of the braids in her hair came loose, falling beside her fragile face while he hand held the ribbon out to her Knight. 

[color=darkorchid]"You better not lose."[/color]