King James
"Tell me again why The King of Avalon is not allowed to participate in either the jousting Laurence?"
The old man sighed and repeated himself for the hundredth time it seemed to his Lord and King. "Sire, you must not be injured. Especially with the Devalins around. "
James snorted and turned away from the man. The old bastard was right of course but the excitement and screams from the crowd made his blood boil. He lived for fighting and beating lesser men. What was the purpose of being a King if you could not show the populace your abilities? He hid his scowl as he made his way up the steps, waving to his subjects as he took the highest seat among his siblings. He turned to where his sister and Rivera sat and gave them both a thin smile. "Rivera. If I'm not allowed to hit someone, do it double for me won't you? It would be even nice if you gave our dear friend the Duke a good jab or two in the next rounds."
He settled comfortably into his seat and scanned for where Christine was, and finding her no where near the area James sat with his siblings a scowl flickered over his face. That matched with not being able to participate in the games was not helping with his current mood. All it would take is one snarky word for either Devalin and James would positively burst.
He would wear the counselor down before the tournaments end. He needed to hit something or he'd end up doing something a bit more drastic.
Henry Devalin
The masses cheered and clapped politely as Henry rode out on his black mare Banshee. The loudest of cheers came from the southern side of the field where his sister and banner men sat. He waved towards them all; one hand placed on the reins in order to keep the skittish horse from bucking him off . He generally didn't joust, but since the tournament was thrown in his sister and his honer, it didn't leave him much room to reject participating.
He patted Banshee's mane, running his fingers through the silky hair. She was a horse meant more for riding and less for letting men with lances charge at her. As he attempted to soothe her, his opponent made his way onto the field. He could not see the face of his foe, and he made no move to greet him. It was just another fool he would crush before meeting and beating the King in the melee competition.
Henry bit his cheek and snapped his fingers. A small squire ran towards him, carrying his helmet in his sweaty hands. He threw the boy a silver and took the helm from him to place on his hand.
"This is going to be an interesting day, take note of that boy." Henry called to the squire before positioning himself. He was ready for whoever would face him next.