67It was the night before the tourney and Sansa was having yet another dispute with her sister, this one was a bit more personal to her heart though.
From somewhere, not someone, because someone wouldn't give something like this to her sister out of free will, her sister had gotten hold of an embroidered piece of cloth that belonged to House Dayne, the same House to which the most chivalrous knight belonged to.
She just couldn't wrap her mind around this fact, and adding salt to the wounds was the fact that her sister was going to use it to wipe the leftover food residue from her lips.
"You can't do that!" she snatched it from her sister's hands after not being able to stand this any longer.
"Hey! He gave that to me, not you. So give it back!" Arya said as she reached for the handkerchief.
But Jeyne Poole had taken it off of Sansa's hands, "Who gave this to you?" she said as she examined the intricate embroidery. It had a sword with a star circling it, looked expensive as well.
"Starick, now give that back!" she said with her brows scrunched up.
"Well if he gave it to you, then he must not be very good looking." She laughed as she handed it back to Sansa.
Yes, no way did a good looking man gave this to her sister.
"He was, he was way better looking than your prince." Arya said as she catapulted her food on Jeyne's dress and then snatched the cloth and ran away.
"Why that little-" Jeyne was saying when she saw her father shooting her a warning glare, so she shut up.
Sansa looked at her father to see if he was angry but he wasn't paying attention to them, he was chatting with Jory Cassel about something.
By the end of the dinner, Arya was nowhere to be found but Septa Mordane said that she was in her quarters. Sansa couldn't care less, tomorrow was the day of the tourney! She would see her knights in shining armors, not that she needed to, not when she had her charming prince.
OoO
Sansa was dressed in clothes that befitted a princess and Jeyne as befitted a lady-in-waiting to the princess. They were both chattering excitedly about what they might see in the Tourney.
Arya had been dressed in lady like clothes by Septa Mordane, much to her chagrin. She was wearing a blue linen wool gown with a white wolf embroidered on her chest. They made their way to the fields outside the city by the river Blackwater.
They had the seat of honor, below The Royal Family. Septa Mordane led them to the benches where Lord Eddard was already sitting with Ser Barristan Selmy. All the knights of the Kingsguard were in their shiny white cloaks and white armor, all except for Ser Jaimie who was in his beautiful gilded armor with a two lion brooches fastening his cloak.
Arya sat between her and their father, Jeyne sat on her other side between her and their septa.
Jeyne was looking at everyone with a childish glee and Sansa was not far behind in her excitement. Arya seemed to be excited too, "How are your dancing lessons going along?" she asked her sister gently.
"They're going splendidly" she bared her arm and showed her a blue bruise, "look at this bruise I got yesterday while practicing." She said excitedly.
Sansa frowned, 'She must not be a good dancer.' She thought as a horn was blown.
Ser Barristan went to join the contestants as he excused himself from their presence.
All the knights and lords and freeriders who were going to be taking part in the tourney lined in front of the king in respect as they bowed before him.
Jeyne was pulling on her sleeve, "What?!" Sansa asked her.
"Ooh! I think I'm in love" she said gazing at a boy besides a bald man in red robes.
He was donned in a simple leathers with a shield in his hands but he looked anything but simple. He had sun-kissed blonde hair and the most captivating set of eyes, they were amethyst in shade.
Sansa could feel her heart beat faster just by looking at him, 'No! I am betrothed to Joffrey.' She thought as Jeyne whispered something about marrying someone in her ears.
The boy was gazing in their direction as well, with a serene expression on his face.
A moment later, the expression was gone, replaced by fierce determination. His eyes swept over the crowd, meeting hers for just tenth of a second and when that happened, her heart leapt in her chest and then he passed over her to others.
All the participants went back to their tents, they would have fifteen minutes before the jousts would began.
The first joust was between Jory Cassel and a member of House Frey, in which Jory was victorious.
The second round was between Jory and the blonde boy. After two tilts, the boy unhorsed the member of her household.
Jeyne cheered loudly but Sansa remained quiet because that was not how a good lady acted. A moment later, Septa Mordane made her approval visible with a smile.
Ser Barristan Selmy was defeated by Jaimie Lannister and so was Andar Royce.'
During one of the jousts, Ser Gregorr Clegane's lance broke and killed a knight.
Jeyne screamed, she wanted to too but then she remembered that Joffrey was sitting on the higher bench behind her. If she was to be his wife, she couldn't balk at this event. She gripped the bench edge and by the time they had taken the corpse away, her knuckled were white.
Jeyne had been taken away by Septa Mordane to calm her frenzy, she returned a bit later with Jeyne in tow. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was red from crying.
OoO
The sun had settled for the day and the moon was climbing up by the time six participants were left, Ser Jaimie Lannister, Lord Renly Baratheon, Ser Sandor Clegane, Gregor Clegane, Loras Tyrell and the blonde boy.
Lord Renly was paired with the blonde boy, his name…it was Starick Dayne…..she felt that she should know that name.
Jeyne was cheering for Dayne quite openly, and so was Sansa, though not quite so openly. The mere act of cheering for the blonde made her feel at odds with herself. She was betrothed to The Prince yet she was still cheering for this other boy. Is this what being unfaithful means? She mused.
The sound of the whinnying horse brought her attention to the joust.
Lord Renly rode to meet the blonde boy midway when his lance broke against his shield.
Jeyne gasped and squeezed her hand, she squeezed back as she was in shock as well. If she had looked to her father, she would've noticed the grim and solemn look on his face
Lord Renly rode for the second tilt with a new lance but this time, this time it didn't break but the blonde wasn't unhorsed either.
After the sixth tilt, Lord Renly was unhorsed quite violently. He fell of his horse and hit the ground quiet violently. Seeing this, Starick got off his horse as well rushed towards Renly to offer his help.
"Quite an able jouster, aren't you?!" Renly said smiling painfully as he accepted Starick's offered hand.
"You honor me, Lord Renly" Starick accepted the praise.
Renly took of his helm with the golden antlers and offered it to Starick who accepted it after a lot of urging from the crowd.
By this time, the moon was well up so the king decreed the last four matches for the morrow.
While the smallfolk trudged their way to their homes in the city, the Lords and Knights would make their way to the river side for the night-feast.
OoO
Arya's day had been going from pretty bad to okay-ish to alright-ish right now.
"Your actions and appearance affect your Lord Father's image in the court." Septa Mordane had said before stuffing her in a blue gown and parading her in front of the court as they had made their way to the litter.
Come evening, only five contestants remained and one of them was her friend….well she thought they were friends, they had shook hands all. Lord Renly had given Starick his helm as ransom for defeating him in the joust, he had only taken that after the crowd had started urging him to take it.
The King had bellowed that the remaining matched were to take place on the morrow, not saying that Arya was disappointed but yeah…she was disappointed. She wanted to see how Starick levelled against the other competitors.
The citizens of King's Landing made their way into the city, mayhaps to drink and eat before going into their slumbers.
While the Lords and Knights would be taking part in the stupid feast that would be celebrating the appointment of The Hand into the King's small council.
It was all stupid, dressing up for a tourney, swooning after boys and this feast, they were all stupid things.
Her father and they had been given a seat of high honor, just beside the King's family. Cersei was there with her three children. She hated her, because of her Lady had died, because of her Nymeria had to go away and that little piece of shi- Joffrey was the reason her friend, Mycah had died. Killed by his Dog.
As she took a seat beside her father, Septa Mordane came and occupied the seat to her left. Sansa and Jeyne sat in front of her, she still hadn't forgiven them both for yesterday. Jeyne just rubbed her the wrong way, she was always weaseling up to her sister and took every chance to tease or belittle her. Even her sister took part in that instead of defending her.
This one time while stitching, she had pricked her finger and cursed, Jeyne and Sansa had snitched to the bloody Septa who had made her wash her mouth with soap and gave a long lecture on how to behave like a lady.
What had she done to them that they took every chance to poke around in her content life?
Her brother, Robb and her father's ward, Theon weren't any better.
The only one she liked was Jon, her half-brother. He was nice to her, he would muss her hair and call her little sister. He even gave her fencing lessons in secret when no one was around. He never asked her to be a perfect lady, or never questioned her why she played with the boys, that's why she loved him the most out of all her siblings….him and Bran were her only true friends left in the world.
Speaking of friends, she spotted Starick walking towards them with the Lightning Lord…..as the small folk had called him.
"Lord Stark, it is nice seeing you in the south." The Lord said…or maybe he was jesting with her father…anyways, they both continued talking as Arya tuned them out.
She focused on her potential sparring partner, Starick. He was listening to her father speak with rapt attention and a weird smile on his face.
"Psst! Starick" she whispered lowly.
No reply.
"Starick!" she whispered a little loudly.
No reaction whatsoever, so she yelled, "STARICK!" and half the table turned towards her. Giggling in embarrassment, she covered her mouth.
"Arya!" Septa Mordane yelled. "What are you doing?!" she asked, her face getting all red in embarrassment.
"EDRIC!" Starick yelled back, attracting all the attention onto himself. The red haired Lord seemed to be amused if his grin was anything to go by. Half the table was looking at him now, some were whispering amongst themselves, one being Sansa.
Arya for her part was grateful to Starick, he directed the attention towards himself instead of letting it fester on her. Just as he had said that name, a boy of around twelve who was standing behind Starick said in a hissing tone, "What?!"
"Uh…ha-ha…nothing." he said as he ruffled the boy's hair. The boy seemed embarrassed by this act and weaseled out from under him and went back to the table they had come from.
By now, everyone went back to their food, the septa chose not to berate Arya lest it attract the attention on them again while Starick was rubbing the back of his hand nervously while laughing. Arya mouthed a quick thank you towards him and started focusing on her food…..well
"Lord Stark, let me introduce my nephew to you, Starick Dayne." The Lightning Lord said as he moved Starick in front of her father
"Lord Stark." Starick said with a deep nod.
"Starick….." her father said in a daze.
"It's an honor to meet you…." Starick said as he fidgeted with his fingers, looking down. Never meeting her father's eyes.
"I'm sorry my lords, I must excuse myself." Her father said as he quickly made his way out of the pavilion.
'Why did father leave suddenly like that?' she thought before she noticed a look of utter sadness that had come over Starick. She called out to him but he didn't seem to hear her as he made his way out of the pavilion.
OoO
Starick had dreamed of this moment for years now, when he would meet his father, how his father might pull him into an embrace and tell him that he loved him but he had never dreamed that his father would ditch him after he was introduced to him.
The things he had gleamed off of the letters he received from had helped form an image of his father in his mind. He was stern, he was strict, he was honorable, and he was just. But in all the letters he had received, he had never gotten an 'I love you' in return. Did that mean that his father didn't love him? Or did it just mean he was not very open about his feelings?
He was tending to believe the former reasoning if what transpired between them was anything to go by…he felt this rage inside him at the moment. He was angry at himself for believing that his father would be happy to see him, angry at his father for not treating with him.
He was now by the Blackwater Reach where the pleasure barges and small ships of the Lords and Ladies were moored to a makeshift dock. He kicked a stone over the river, which skipped over three times before making its way to its watery grave.
Skipping stones always calmed his mind down, whatever mood he may be in, he would've been calmed by the act of watching stones skip. It provided a sort of comfort to him that only training himself to exhaustion provided….his thoughts went back to his half-sister, Arya. She reminded him so much of Elia that it wasn frightening and Elia was like a little sister to him.
He didn't want to face her now, lest he say something to her that he might regret. She didn't deserve his hate because he was angry at their father, which would be idiotic and cruel. From his first meeting, he had gathered that he liked her flames of youth, he didn't want them to be extinguished for some reason…..he would protect her like he would his own family and she was….well family.
With that stark realization, his previous anger dissipated. In its place remained sorrow and dejection at his rejection. But Starick had a Will of Fire and that fire burned strongly within him, with a new found vehemence, Starick decided that he would make his father acknowledge him.
That night, Starick dreamed of a sewer with strange metal pipes and a great golden cage. In that cage was a nothing but darkness and a lone crimson eye with a slitted pupil.
There was a roar and he heard an impossibly deep voice speaking something in a queer tongue. Red bubbles started frothing from inside the cage and started spreading outside towards him, he was fear stricken, he couldn't move, couldn't speak as the bubbles started moving towards him. The water around him started bubbling and then he woke up in cold sweat.
'Naruto' the voice kept saying, "Naruto…." He repeated it out loud, he could still hear the voice repeating it again and again with increasing intensity until the bubbles had started appearing.
Starick tried to go to sleep again but try as he might, it wouldn't come. So he just laid there, looking at the ceiling. 'Just wait Father, I'm going to make you acknowledge me.' His previous anger had been replaced by fierce determination, he didn't know how but he was going to do it. As he kept thinking of things he'd do tomorrow, a dreamless slumber crept upon him.
OoO
The melee took place early in the morning with about forty three contestants. Thoros of Myr had set his sword aflame which tended to scare other competitors' mounts but that was not the case with Starick's mare. Due to Starick's calming presence, the mare's fright was suppressed that Starick gave Thoros a run for his money in the melee. The melee lasted for about two and a half hours at the end of which Starick came out victorious
"Quite a trained mount you've got there, eh?" Thoros asked as he was helped up by Starick from his position on the ground. "For it last for so long against fire, you must've put 'er through hell!" he laughed at his own joke as they moved out of the arena.
Starick was awarded 20,000 dragons and Thoros, 10,000 dragons for his show of skills and being the runner-up.
'This is a lot of money!' Starick thought as he handed the coin bags to Edric, he would keep them safe in their tents. He had grown wise over the duration of his stay in King's Landing, plus Thoros had done the same so….
The jousts were going to start in an hour after the melee.
"I can't believe you won!" Edric said while doing a happy jig, he had placed his bets on Starick winning even though the odds favored other knights and freeriders but only Edric had seen Starick fight so he was sure that his cousin would win and right he was.
Both the cousins were few hundred dragons richer or well, in Starick's case, thousands of dragons richer than yesterday. And both were busy planning on how to spend them, Starick was thinking of buying something for his mother while Edric was planning on buying well-made armor for when he would become a knight.
A horn was blown and both of their cue to leave the tent. After congratulating Starick on being in the quarter finals of the tilt, Beric had let Starick borrow Edric for the day. He was to be a squire to Starick for the day and as such, he was required on the field to ready his mount and his lance.
The first joust was between The Mountain and Ser Jaimie Lannister, where on the second tilt, Ser Jaimie was unhorsed.
The second was between Loras Tyrell and Starick, at the beginning of the Joust, Loras rode along the fence and towards the seat of High Honor and presented a rose to his half-sister, Sansa. He must've said something because as he moved away, Sansa's face was all red. Starick thought to do something like that with Arya but from the short time he had known her, she would probably kick his ass for doing something like that in front of the Tourney audience so he chose not to.
He gave a curt nod to Loras which was returned following which, they both rode to their respective starting positions. A second horn was blown and they both took off galloping towards each other.
The first tilt led to a draw and so did the one after that. The third tilt however, resulted in Starick's victory.
Now the finals were where it would get interesting, it was Starick against Ser Gregor Clegane. They both rode to their respective positions at the each end of the fence. Starick once again sent a curt nod to his opponent which though was not returned, instead, the knight growled at him as he steadied his stallion.
With the sound of horn permeating the air, Starick began riding with a slow trot and started picking up pace slowly but surely as opposed to galloping from the start. This was a tricky opponent, he couldn't win by brute force here as he did with Loras before. He braced himself for the impact of his opponent's lance against his shield and just as it came to pass, he raised his lance and angled it away from him leading to it hitting the Mountain's helm with concussive force and dazing him. As they were both riding away, the Mountain fell from his horse with a thud.
The smallfolk cheered him as his mare came to a halt, sure it was an underhanded means to an end but you couldn't exactly expect him to unhorse The Mountain that Rides with honor, 'Honor will only get you killed on the field' The Red Viper had said and in this instance, he agreed with his master.
He had unmounted from his mount and let it be taken away to the stables. 'They are cheering for me!' he thought but that realization didn't last long as he heard a rage filled roar behind him and as he turned around, he was sent flying back into the fence with a blow to the chest,
Pain shot up through his nerves as he wheezed on the ground, kinda like a turtle on its back. Starick wheezed again and felt his ribs, at least one was broken. It took him few seconds to collect himself before he could even think of trying to get up. And when he did get up, he had to dodge the broken lance that was coming his way lest he get impaled. Ducking under the lance, Starick kicked the Mountain in his shin with all his might but that one act led to pain shooting through his chest.
He grunted through the pain as he drew his slim blade, more useful for water dancing then parrying huge broken lances or even longswords but he'd have to do with what he had. Not one moment after he had drawn it, he had to block a downswing from the Mountain's longsword. Pain.
Somewhere in the commotion of kicking him and rolling away, the Mountain had discarded the lance and unsheathed his sword to attack him.
He blocked the second blow with his sword using both hands to support it. His own blade dug into the palm of his hand drawing blood. The third blow cracked his sword, each successful block led to more pain, 'But this pain is better than the other outcome of me getting cleaved in half.' He thought. The fifth blow cracked his sword and brought him to the ground. The sixth blow was going to be the end of him it seemed.
Starick was perhaps scared for the first time…well not the first time but this was the most scared he had been ever. But with fright came the tell-tale signs of adrenaline rush, his senses heightened, his heartbeat got faster and he could see the sword coming down on him in slow motion as if it was moving through honey.
Unseen by all, Starick's eyes flickered from amethyst purple to crimson red with a slit acting as a pupil and his whisker marks thickened. His fear was replaced with newfound drive, he felt he could fight a hundred men and still come out on top. But before he could act, a man came in between him and the mountain.
He met the Mountain's blow with his greatsword, he didn't need to defend him longer as the gold cloaks and other knights surrounded The Mountain with their weapons drawn. The man turned around and Starick's heart leapt in its cage, the man was no other than his father, Lord Eddard Stark.
There was warmth in his eyes as he offered him a hand, the King was yelling something but Starick didn't hear it or didn't want to hear it as he looked at the offered hand in daze. A moment later, he came out of his stupor and took the hand, pulling himself up.
"I'm sorry for not being there for you." His father whispered in his ear as he clasped his hand on his shoulder.
His father raised Starick's hand up and the crowd started cheering. He was declared the winner and then everything was a blur. Beric Dondarrion was congratulating him, Edric was crying, his father was there and a many maidens cheering his name along with his father's. All the doubts he had about his father were gone, replace by awe and respect.
That night at the feast, a man named Jory came by his table and said, "Lord Stark would like to speak with you in his solar."
OoO