Back in the tavern, Sigmund got in his room and closed his eyes. His consciousness shifted from himself to Archibald. The thug was currently eating potato stew in a small, wooden hut, a woman not far older than him by his side and -running around, completely disinterested of the food- a little girl. She had the same brown eyes that Archibald once had, with dark hair more resembling what he assumed to be the mother, as opposed to Archibald's dirty straw hair. He watched them as a backseat bystander for an hour or so, only cutting the connection when the girl was put to bed and the pair undressed. He didn't have any desire to watch them fornicate. He knew a woman's body quite well, a man's too, he wasn't picky but he wouldn't spy on another man. Sigmund might not be a good man but he wasn't gonna steal their privacy like that.
Tired, he sunk into his straw bed and fell asleep.
The next day, he walked over to the tailor and collected his new garments. They were white and blue, just as he had demanded and they fit him like a glove.
"If I may ask, Ser… where do you hail from? You have the Valyrian complexion and wear essosi robes… yet I have dressed almost every culture of Essos, the tyroshi, the lys and even a Dothraki once upon a time and yet, i cannot place your accent", the tailor enquired, tapping his fingers nervously on his counter.
"Yi Ti. My ancestors came from the Valyrian freehold but have lived in Yi Ti for generations. What you hear is the remnants of the Valyrian accent", another cover story he had constructed with his goddess, "though sadly, I do not speak Valyrian. There are more speakers of the common tongue in Yi Ti than most would assume"
"Ah- that makes sense", the tailor nodded.
Not feeling any shame, Sigmund stripped to his underwear and changed into the woolen clothes quite quickly, placing his robes in his enchanted bag, "it is soft, of good quality too… if I ever need more clothes, I will consider coming back"
"Yes, please do. I hope to see you soon"
Sigmund walked through the city, aimlessly until he found an arena of some sort, or that was what it looked like, with a huge opening to go underground, big enough to fit multiple elephants at once, "what a strange construction…"
He muttered, walking closer to the entrance to the underground. But he was stopped by a pair of guards, "halt, only the royal family is allowed to enter the dragon pit"
"The dragon pit?", he stared at the opening. It could hold a dragon, he supposed. Though it would quite certainly not be a dragon god, those could break out at any moment. Maybe a drake, wyvern or Lindwurm? Those may not technically be true dragons but they were confused often enough, "I am sorry, I didn't know, I'll be leaving now"
He didn't resist, simply walking away, through the streets and alleys, over to the next most interesting building, the sept of baelor, they called it. It was huge, towering over the other buildings. Walking in, he saw seven statues, lined up in a septagon around a seven pointed star drawn on the ground. It was a sight to behold, truly a wonder of architecture. The statues were huge, not life sized, but bigger and people, men, women and children were praying in front of the statues. There were priests -or septons they were called here- preaching their gospel. Sigmund stayed and listened to them preaching. A lot about good will and being pure. They promoted celibacy and generosity, whilst condemning promiscuity and -most alarmingly- magic.
This could become a problem. If the dominant religion condemns magic, he could be labelled a heretic for using his own but thankfully, as he learned later, most of the people in king's landing, whilst still believing, didn't care too much about magic. Bastards on the other hand, now those were much less accepted by the general public.
Days passed without much fanfare. He walked around the city, eating new dishes and generally enjoying his time there (if only it didn't smell so bad but oh well) and eventually, the day of the Archery competition came around. The tourney grounds were fully set up, with stands for the smallfolk and boxes for the nobility.
"It is a most joyous occasion that brings us together today", the king, Aerys Targaryen the second lifted his arms, his voice reverberating across the tourney grounds, "my dear wife has finally given birth to another healthy baby boy, young prince Viserys Targaryen! Today we shall begin with the archery contest. There have been 52 applicants for this competition. We will have ten rounds, with each being increasingly harder. Should only one challenger remain, he will be crowned the winner. Should there be multiple, we will have one final round. In this last round, the contestants will be given ten arrows and the one with the best aim will be crowned the winner. You may begin"
There were 52 targets In front of them. Sigmund drew his bow, squinted his eyes and *thunk*, the arrow hit bulls eye. Looking around, only under half (25) of the contestants were able to hit them, which was embarrassingly low. This wouldn't be as hard as he thought after all. Round after round, with increasingly difficult shots, more and more competitors were eliminated, until there were only two. Sigmund and another man with white hair, really, more of a boy than a man. His purple eyes were kind and his breastplate showed the Targaryen red dragon on a field of black. The crown prince, no doubt.
"Seems likening is just us left", Sigmund grinned, this was only the 7th round, still three to go until the tiebreaker.
"It seems so. What is your name, good ser?" His voice was like a melody, enchanting.
"Sigmund Schneehaupt"
"Schneehaupt? I never heard about a house by that name?"
"I hail from Essos", he explained, drawing his bow before releasing, another bull's eye.
"That makes sense", the prince released his shot, third ring from the middle.
They moved the targets again and they shot. Rhaegar's arrow missed its mark, whilst Sigmund's his the bulls eye once again. The prince took his arm and raised it to the sky, "your champion!"
He was given a crown of flowers by one of the servants and looked over the people in attendance. He didn't desire any of them. Sure, some were good looking but he had seen many good looking women in his life, so he placed the flower crown on the queen's head, the safe choice.