NOTE: This is my first fanfiction. Reviews would be loved as I want to know how to improve. Also I'm trying to keep continuity with the canon ASOIAF world. Most characters mentioned are legitimate mentioned characters already in the world of ASOIAF. If anything violates canon (aside from the aging up which was necessary for future explicit scenes) please notify me, as I want to keep things as continuous as possible. Thank you!
The annual Grand Tourney of Highgarden only weeks away, the streets of Highgarden were bustling with activity. Even the quiet alleyways were loud with the sounds and sights of travelers from all around the region. With few exceptions, all the houses pledged to the Tyrell family had announced their arrival in the capital, and with them came hosts of merchants, entertainers, and nobles. While the sworn houses and their bannermen were found accommodations in Brightwater Keep, the commoners were kept out in the streets and they filled up inns across the city and into the surrounding countryside. With so many foreigners in the streets, the guards around Brightwater Keep were doubled and curfews were set for all the noblemen and women to obey, while they whispered rumors of thieves and assassins.
"I heard that there was another robbery only a few blocks from the castle," Merrell Florent announced as he tightened the saddle around his mare. "Seems like the Brightwater guards aren't all they make themselves out to be."
"See, theys distracted by all them noble ladies," Rowan suggested, mouth twisted in a smile. "An' I would be too, if they'd lay wit' me."
"For the noble ladies' sakes, I'm glad you're just a stable boy." Merrell chimed back, guiding his horse out of the stable and past the younger Rowan who stood defensively crossing his arms over his chest. The stable boy was known to all the knights and squires as being crass, rude, but always helpful. The only thing he excelled at was the maintenance of his stables.
"Jus' cause you're from a noble house don't mean you can treat me like that," Rowan barked back to the stoic Merrell, who ignored the statement and guided the mare out of the stables. Heaving a sigh, the stable boy leaned against one of the wooden beams that stabilized the structure. "Squires an' their attitudes," he huffed, glancing to the stall behind him where another squire stood, grooming his knight's stallion. He was a few years older than the stable boy, nearing his nineteenth year, and his boyish looks had already been replaced by a well-groomed beard and chiseled features.
"Maddox, yer not like them, ya know?" Rowan kept drawling on, his gruff voice hardly forming coherent syllables, completely unaware of how tense the squire had become at the sound of his name.
"Merrell is a good man, Rowan. He's been only nice to me," Maddox answered back, turning to face the stable boy, determined to keep his calm. The two boys were near foils of themselves, both physically and mentally. Rowan was stout with bad teeth and wispy hair, while Maddox had the good looks and princely demeanor known to his house, the Vyrwels.
Rowan hissed, "Only 'cus he's scared of you," though the response fell upon deaf ears. Maddox was already leading the stallion out of the stall, trying to put the petty stable boy and his troubles to rest. There were more important things to bother about than a bitter teen content to clean stables for the rest of his life, especially with the tourney close at hand.
Maddox gave the reins a tug, pulling the stallion closer to him. Though the beast was beautiful and finely-bred, he was often finicky to those who weren't his rider, though this was something both beast and rider had in common. Ser Vortimer Crane was not the most pleasant man to be around and his tough exterior didn't hide a soft heart: he was hard all around. Though he was never unreasonable. His hardness was understandable, as he was the master-at-arms of Highgarden and was thus expected to perform both the duties of master-at-arms and the duties of a knight. Maddox understood the reason for his sternness, though he still resented the man on occasion when he was worked too harshly because of it. If anything, it was a validation of Maddox's abilities as a squire as though he was old for the job, he was chosen by one of the pickiest knights and was frequently praised for his abilities. Some still whispered that he was chosen only for political reasons, as House Vyrwel was often accused of possessing insatiable ambition and lust for power, but those who saw Maddox squire in practice confessed that his genius at squiring could be the whole of the matter. No matter the reason, Maddox and Ser Crane were a powerful duo and their pairing worked well. Though he had only been squiring for three months at Highgarden, he looked like he had been at it for years.
Maddox guided the horse through past the blacksmith's shop and towards the castle's practice fields where training for the tourney had started. Over the last weeks, many of the other houses gathering for the event had begun to show up and with them came knights in exotic garb and fashion, some garish and others elegant, but all caught the young squire's eye. He saw men from houses he had only heard of in books and met women and children from lands he'd no knowledge of. He had never dreamt he would meet so many people, and the reality of it had shocked him at first but he adjusted quickly to it. Darkdell, the seat of House Vyrwel, rarely had any visitors aside from the immediate neighbors, and Maddox was simply unaccustomed to dealing with so many strangers at once.
Still, the people he had wanted to meet seemed absent entirely. The Tyrells were a house that fascinated him for more than the fact his life was pledged to them. He had always been transfixed by their family since he was a toddler, eagerly asking his father everything he knew about them. When he began his journey to Highgarden, he was eager to see them for the first time, even if it was only a glimpse. Three months later, he had seen only Margaery Tyrell in passing and she was the least interesting of the family to him.
"A little further to the left," Maddox could hear Merrell talking, helping his knight better pierce the jousting dummy. The knight huffed, getting his horse ready and once again bolted down the lane. The knight's lance was ready—and though he didn't miss, the lance bounced off the dummy's shield instead of cracking it.
"Fuck!" The knight yelled beneath his helmet, though it was muffled. Yanking the helmet off his head, he revealed sweaty, disheveled black hair. "It's my bloody arm," he yammered, a drunken twang in his voice as he pulled his horse to an abrupt stop and clambered off it. Merrell struggled to take the reins. "I need to talk to the bloody maester about my bloody arm," he kept yelling as Merrell nodded politely. As squires and knights went, their pairing was about the worst. Though both similar in physical appearance, they couldn't have been different in demeanor. Merrell was an apt and skilled squire, and though he could be snide he was never anything but polite to the Redwyne, who was a drunkard during both day and night. Stories of his rage were common and he had often seen Merrell sporting bruises on his face. Functionally, they worked. Merrell kept Desmond good enough at tourneys to keep honor in his house and Desmond a spot as one of the best knights in the Reach. Though anyone who knew of their dynamic would note how poisonous it seemed for the squire, who tried his best but never to any avail.
Maddox watched as Desmond stormed away, flinging his sheathed sword to the ground, expecting Merrell to take care of it. At the very least, Ser Crane was a far better knight than some.
The yard over was the one currently reserved for the keep's master-at-arms. Ser Crane was already there, tightening his silver armor more securely to his body. His movements were precise and strong, though not without elegance and they greatly mirrored his ability as a knight. He was known in the land as being one of the most talented of them all, though with his older age gaining on him his prestige had slowly began to wane. His methods were becoming antiquated and he very rarely won gold in tourneys, often taking silver or bronze instead. Though in his new post, he exceeded as master-in-arms and updated the armies, teaching them improved tactical skills in hopes to advance the Tyrell's military prowess, which currently lacked. Ser Crane was known for being one of the better councilmen for the Tyrells, having always been frighteningly loyal to the family to the point of dishonoring his own house.
"Maddox," he announced squarely, standing at the arrival of his squire. "A little late, but Durant is looking quite nice." He referenced his horse, of which he held in high regard and took a step forward to stroke the beast's face. Arguably, the horse was the only one who had a close connection to Ser Vortimer Crane. Even his wife seemed to steer away from him, always vying for space from the aloof man. How they came to have two sons Maddox never understood.
"I washed him earlier this morning, and just finished brushing him out," came Maddox's bare reply, avoiding addressing how late he was. Ser Crane was not the type of man to accept excuses or apologies, but he was one to respect honesty. In reply, the knight gave a curt nod, seemingly pleased.
"Best we get to it then," he announced and proceeded to mount Durant while Maddox prepared the jousting dummy in the center of the lane. Their training sessions seemed nearly constant, having at least one session a day—two, if the first one didn't go well. Though at first their sessions had been long and grueling, the knight and squire now worked together like clockwork, knowing the ins and outs of their sessions exceedingly well. A normal session would be no longer than an hour or two if their schedules permitted. Often, Ser Crane was cut short to attend meetings or assist others and Maddox was left to attend the knight's things, but today their schedules seemed clear and the stakes of training were heightened due to the impending tourney. Maddox guessed the training session would last for two or maybe three hours today.
Just as he began to get lost in his thoughts, Maddox's eyes found what he had been waiting years to see: Loras Tyrell. He was unmistakable in his sparkling armor adorned with flowers and embellished in the finest gold, fitting for a man of his stature. All the knights' and squires' eyes seemed to be suddenly transfixed on the radiant knight, and Maddox was caught along with them. He had long been transfixed by Loras through descriptions he had heard of him when he was younger. 'The most beautiful man with flowing brown hair and golden eyes.' He had heard the talk, though had never fully believed it, thinking it was only fantasy. But not even the rumors of his beauty could have prepared Maddox for the reality, as it was far better than any imagining could be. Loras was perfect in his eyes. There was no flaw on his face, nor was there any flaw in his body. The knight was perfectly toned and chiseled, complete with a genuine smile and hearty voice. Maddox could have remained staring at the knight forever, his thoughts lost in fantasy and his face flushed in excitement of possibilities, but he was quickly jolted back into reality at the stern voice of Ser Crane announcing he was ready for the first jousting run. Hesitantly, he returned to his work as squire, occasionally sneaking glances at Loras but there was only so long he could look before Ser Crane would command him to pay more attention, and Loras quickly moved back towards the keep and out of sight of the practice fields.
The rest of training moved along slower than any session had before and the only thing Maddox could think about was seeing the Knight of Flowers once again.