[center][color=thistle][h2]Lady Grey Coulbourne[/h2][/color]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/z4uZp3p.png?1[/img]
Interacting with the King's Severed Head[/center]
[hr]

Though still a bit hesitant and chastened after Sir Jory's retrieval (the old knight was far too loyal to ever dare speak against her, but he had ways of making a [i]look[/i] reprimanding) Grey sat in the Coulbourne area and watched the tournament attentively. They had competitions in the forest, but none quite like this – so large and so varied in their events. She cheered and laughed at the first event, delighting in the sight of noble men trying to catch a pheasant. Nyle, accustomed to the forested terrain had excelled in that event, and Grey felt a swell of pride for her cousin.

Though, his luck didn't last, and he was eliminated in the next round. The forest folk were built for cunning and agility. The hammer toss required a different skill set entirely.

Nyle, cleaned up and embarrassed at his elimination, came to sit in the Coulbourne area in the empty seat next to Grey during the  fourth round. Grey leaned over and patted her cousin on the hand, a sympathetic but proud smile on her face. Nyle looked up and after a moment, offered a small smile of his own. Squeezing his hand, Grey turned back to the arena to continue watching the tournament.

The duel was fierce and had Grey upright in her seat as she watched, her eyes fixed on the two men she'd never met before.

And then it was over and the older one, Jeyco Swan, was named the victor. Grey applauded politely, though without the same intensity as the other spectators. He was… a bit old to marry a thirteen year old. She turned her attention to the young princess, who seemed none too pleased with this development. Grey sighed in empathy. Arranged marriages were tricky things. 

Grey was watching Madeline as Lord Swan's banner unfurled.

And the bloody head of King Samson fell tumbling into her lap. 

Grey was frozen, stunned as she looked down at it. The skin, loose and lax and wrinkled with age, was a waxy pale color. The eyes were partially opened, eyelids almost closed save for a sliver of white and brown exposed at the bottom. The right one was opened just a bit wider than the left. Long, wiry hair tangled in ropey clumps, the ends crusted with blood. The jaw was hanging open. Blood from the mangled stump that had been a neck was already pooling in Grey's lap, staining her dress, warm, sticky wetness leaking onto her legs under the layers of fabric. 

Reality finally found Grey and she screamed. Stumbling to her feet, a hand clamped over her mouth as the head rolled from her lap and fell to the floor with a wet thud. Commotion erupted around her as people finally began to understand the situation.

[i]The king was dead.[/i]

Nyle and Sir Jory both shot to their feet and rushed to her, trying to steady her and pull her away as she backed up, only to hit her chair. She couldn't look away from the king's severed head.