Sebastian wasn't expecting the blush, how handsome it coloured the Commander's already incredibly attractive features. The prince nearly finds himself staring, until he hears a throat being cleared and the announcer calls for the archers to ready their bows.
A series of fwips and the proceeding thumps when targets are hit soon followed.
Cheering breaks through the crowd and a few gasps. Most of those competing hit their respective targets, but two stood out above the rest. Sebastian, naturally, hit his bullseye right in the middle. And... two archers to his right, so did another.
That lit the fire of competition in him as they all readied another arrow.
Second volley sent another rain of projectiles whirring through the air.
Sebastian's hit right next to his first- neatly in the middle, and he affords himself a smug little smirk. Murmurs, excited and awed, brought him curiously peering to the others and their targets... only to observe another identical shot.
Out of all those gathered, it was himself and a bright-eyed young man; eyes green and mirthful with a cocky smirk on roguish lips, who were tied. Sebastian's jaw tightened as the young man called out down the line;
"You alright there, prince? Maybe keep an eye on your target, wouldn't want you to lose." The Starkhaven prince knew the accent, the boy must be from Ostwick and the teasing made him square up his shoulders with a scoff.
"Mayhaps the young lad should keep to his own advice. Two lucky shots do not beget a third," he quipped back as he turned those blue eyes back on the target ahead of him. The prince was used to being antagonized by the likes of Varric and Anders, he was not going to let some mouthy lad from Ostwick ruin his chances of victory.
Three rounds. Three arrows.
Usually these competitions felt boring for the prince; he had been practising archery seriously every since he could draw a bow, never skipping a day. Winning was always a guarantee and the competition tended to err on the side of... nonexistent.
Now? Now he had a cheeky upstart who was winning the crowd over with his roguish antics and his, admittedly, exceptional skill.
Sebastian wasn't nervous, he was excited, as the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he gauged where he wanted to shoot next. When the announcer raised his arm he drew his arrow back with an intensity that made his shoulders ache.
As soon as the call came out to shoot, Sebastian let his arrow fly.
The audience was quiet through the shots- until the sound of wood splintering made those in attendance break out into raucous cheers. Sebastian's third arrow joined the other two, except he had split his first, nestling both in the same exact bullseye right in the middle.
The lad from Ostwick? A hair away from the middle ring. Leaving him one point behind Sebastian, yet both of them were leagues ahead of the others.
The applause and cheering fell dead on his ears, as all he could hear was the blood rushing in his veins, his heartbeat growing wild with competition. Only for him to snap out of it when he was ushered away from the field so the workers of the event could clear the targets and set up the horseback course.
A good time for an intermission, Sebastian needed to walk off this excited energy a bit before the riding came. It would take fifteen to twenty to get everything ready. A few audience members breaking away for refreshments, or to turn towards one another excitedly- they weren't expecting such a close competition this year either.
The prince? Thanked his seneschal for his water-skin, before he mindlessly found himself trotting towards his favourite Ferelden's, blue eyes bright as he regarded both father and son.
"That lad is giving me a run for my money- are you both enjoying yourselves? I can get us a little treat to pass the time."
Cullen holds onto his little boy's legs, the boy cheering and clapping so excitedly from where he is perched on Cullen's shoulders, his father is momentarily worried he'll fall right off.
"How is the Prince doing?" He asks, and Fabian leans forward to rest his face against his father's hair.
"He hit it! One, two, three times!"
"That's very good. We'll have to ask him to show us, won't we?"
He feels Fabian nod into his hair, and then this part of the competition is over, and the crowd moves excitedly as the set up for the next part begins. Cullen doesn't expect Sebastian to come back to meet them, but he sees the Prince heading towards them and he can't help smile and move towards the edge of the crowd.
"A bit of healthy competition is good for you." Cullen says, "But you seem to be taking this in your stride." He really does make it look effortless. Cullen is a strong man, he has worn plate armour most of his life, he carries a sword and shield into battle. But he knows he couldn't pull back a bow string like Sebastian Vael.
"I was going to offer to get you something, but if you know what tourney food is the best, we will happily take the recommendation."
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Sebastian wasn't expecting the blush, how handsome it coloured the Commander's already incredibly attractive features. The prince nearly finds himself staring, until he hears a throat being cleared and the announcer calls for the archers to ready their bows.
A series of fwips and the proceeding thumps when targets are hit soon followed.
Cheering breaks through the crowd and a few gasps. Most of those competing hit their respective targets, but two stood out above the rest. Sebastian, naturally, hit his bullseye right in the middle. And... two archers to his right, so did another.
That lit the fire of competition in him as they all readied another arrow.
Second volley sent another rain of projectiles whirring through the air.
Sebastian's hit right next to his first- neatly in the middle, and he affords himself a smug little smirk. Murmurs, excited and awed, brought him curiously peering to the others and their targets... only to observe another identical shot.
Out of all those gathered, it was himself and a bright-eyed young man; eyes green and mirthful with a cocky smirk on roguish lips, who were tied. Sebastian's jaw tightened as the young man called out down the line;
"You alright there, prince? Maybe keep an eye on your target, wouldn't want you to lose." The Starkhaven prince knew the accent, the boy must be from Ostwick and the teasing made him square up his shoulders with a scoff.
"Mayhaps the young lad should keep to his own advice. Two lucky shots do not beget a third," he quipped back as he turned those blue eyes back on the target ahead of him. The prince was used to being antagonized by the likes of Varric and Anders, he was not going to let some mouthy lad from Ostwick ruin his chances of victory.
Three rounds. Three arrows.
Usually these competitions felt boring for the prince; he had been practising archery seriously every since he could draw a bow, never skipping a day. Winning was always a guarantee and the competition tended to err on the side of... nonexistent.
Now? Now he had a cheeky upstart who was winning the crowd over with his roguish antics and his, admittedly, exceptional skill.
Sebastian wasn't nervous, he was excited, as the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he gauged where he wanted to shoot next. When the announcer raised his arm he drew his arrow back with an intensity that made his shoulders ache.
As soon as the call came out to shoot, Sebastian let his arrow fly.
The audience was quiet through the shots- until the sound of wood splintering made those in attendance break out into raucous cheers. Sebastian's third arrow joined the other two, except he had split his first, nestling both in the same exact bullseye right in the middle.
The lad from Ostwick? A hair away from the middle ring. Leaving him one point behind Sebastian, yet both of them were leagues ahead of the others.
The applause and cheering fell dead on his ears, as all he could hear was the blood rushing in his veins, his heartbeat growing wild with competition. Only for him to snap out of it when he was ushered away from the field so the workers of the event could clear the targets and set up the horseback course.
A good time for an intermission, Sebastian needed to walk off this excited energy a bit before the riding came. It would take fifteen to twenty to get everything ready. A few audience members breaking away for refreshments, or to turn towards one another excitedly- they weren't expecting such a close competition this year either.
The prince? Thanked his seneschal for his water-skin, before he mindlessly found himself trotting towards his favourite Ferelden's, blue eyes bright as he regarded both father and son.
"That lad is giving me a run for my money- are you both enjoying yourselves? I can get us a little treat to pass the time."
no subject
"How is the Prince doing?" He asks, and Fabian leans forward to rest his face against his father's hair.
"He hit it! One, two, three times!"
"That's very good. We'll have to ask him to show us, won't we?"
He feels Fabian nod into his hair, and then this part of the competition is over, and the crowd moves excitedly as the set up for the next part begins. Cullen doesn't expect Sebastian to come back to meet them, but he sees the Prince heading towards them and he can't help smile and move towards the edge of the crowd.
"A bit of healthy competition is good for you." Cullen says, "But you seem to be taking this in your stride." He really does make it look effortless. Cullen is a strong man, he has worn plate armour most of his life, he carries a sword and shield into battle. But he knows he couldn't pull back a bow string like Sebastian Vael.
"I was going to offer to get you something, but if you know what tourney food is the best, we will happily take the recommendation."