Author's Comments: This story is a result of the recent Sansan Genre Writing Challenge I hosted on Livejournal Sansa/Sandor community. It called for writing the same basic scenario using different writing genres, allotted by a ballot between participants. I got "news-style" and this is it…
Initially I envisaged writing the story in a modern news style, but soon concluded that it might be too straightforward and rather boring, and changed the tact. Instead I opted for an old-fashioned news writing. Please do note that this style is purely imagination on my part, so no exact historical accuracy is to be expected! I also played with the names a bit, fully aware that there was no Latin in Westeros, plus some of you may notice another internal joke on names…
And because I couldn't resist – and again, because the news only scratch the surface and we as readers probably want to peek a little deeper – I added an addendum to each article to show what happened behind the reported events.
1. The Great Tournament Is Upon Us
The Vale Gazette - On the Fifth Day of the Eighth Moon
It is with Special Pride that The Gazette announces the Beginnings of the Great Tournament to be held at the Gates of the Moon, that most illustrious keep of noble House Arryn.
As we advised our avid readers in our previous Edition, this Prodigious Tournament is devised for the Establishment of a new Brotherhood, the Brotherhood of Winged Knights, to serve the Noble Heir of this ancient house, the Lord of the Vale and the Warden of the East, young Lord Robert Arryn.
It was thus announced that four-and-sixty Knights have been invited to compete for the honour of serving Young Lord Robert in his personal guard, only eight brave Combatants to be afforded this privilege and the Right to bear Falcon's wings in their warhelms and guard their Lord. The competition will undoubtedly be Fierce, and will consist of several days of Jousting, Sword Fighting, Archery and Melee. Nonetheless, even those who shall not receive the Greatest Award will not go empty-handed, as the Lord of Harrenhal, Lord Paramount of the Trident and Lord Protector of the Eyrie and the Vale, Lord Petyr Baelish, has donated heavy purses to the Second-Placed in each Category.
The young Knights of the Vale have endorsed these invitations overwhelmingly and every thus honoured Candidate has accepted the Challenge, and over the last days these brave young Men have started to arrive to the Place of Festivities.
The Representative of The Gazette was privileged to attend the Great Ceremony of greeting the Combatants in the Great Courtyard of the Gates of the Moon, and is able to attest to all our readers about the fine Quality and Skills of the Participants, hailing from the oldest and finest Houses of the Vale, eager to do their Duty to their Lord.
In addition to the Knight Invitees, the Great Tournament has attracted its share of Ambitious Sellswords, Curious Onlookers and Landless Knights, as such events are wont to. The Lord Protector has graciously allowed participation also from the Outsiders in the spirit of bolstering competition and for the purposes of separating the Very Best and Worthy for the esteemed Honour.
Hence it was that three-and-seventy men greeted Lord Robert and Lord Protector in this glorious Occasion. Most of the nobility of the Vale was represented with sons and cousins of the Houses Corbray, Hardyng, Hunter, Redfort, Waynwood, Royces of Runestone and of the Gates of the Moon, and many others (the complete lists of Participants are made available at the time of the Great Tournament itself). At the end of the long line were the other Combatants, most from minor houses not known throughout the Vale and thus not meriting a Special Mention here. The young men of the Vale looked veritable superior in all aspects when compared to those from Elsewhere, although there was one exception in that Motley assembly of Personage, an unusually tall and powerfully built man from the Riverlands. Canis Lupus he gave as his name and his sigil was a Bird and a Hound, but yours truly or none of the other present had not heard of the House of that name before, so it must be taken that it is a small House.
The man himself was head taller than others, had a shorn hair and intriguingly half his face covered under a Leather Mask. What Horrors should it hide remains unknown as the man was Insolent enough not to remove it even in the Distinguished company of the Young Lord and his Retinue, expressing that a disfiguring disease that had affected it would not a Pleasant Sight make for the party.
Lord Robert was gracious to all His Champions and greeted Each and Everyone in person, earning men's Affections and Respect as his esteemed Father Lord Jon Arryn had done in his time. At the End of the Event the Lord and his Party retired back to the Keep in preparation of the Festivities to follow.
A minor Incident happened just as the Party was leaving, when a young Maiden in the Retinue fainted, collapsing onto the feet of the last Combatants on the line. This caused quite a Commotion and raised enquiries whether such an Occasion is suitable for the gentler sex, but the Maid in question recovered soon enough and was carried inside upon the insistence of the very same Man onto whose feet she collapsed, the aforementioned warrior from the Riverlands. The Gazette heard later that the Maid was the Lord Protector's ward Lady Alayne Stone. She did not seem to have suffered further from the Mishap as she was present in the Welcoming Feast later that very same evening.
The Gazette shall follow this Great Tournament in detail and shall report the Feats and Gallantries of the Knights to its readers in a timely fashion.
Sansa had thought that should a day come when she would lay her eyes on him again, she would recognise his unmistakable form immediately. So many nights had he haunted her dreams, so accustomed was she to his presence – how could she fail? Lately, after the yoke of terror had been lifted from her and she had found her peace again, she had deliberately processed dark memories from her time as the prisoner to dispel the grip they had had on her - and it was he, always he looming there, on the background, emerging from the shadows, observing her, guarding her, looking after her. And his presence had filled her with comfort rather than dread, a beacon of succour amidst dark waters.
And yet when the day came her gaze passed right by him and did not stop – at first. Then something caught her eye; something familiar, something subtle but recognizable. A shape of his shoulder, a set of his jaw, the strength of his vibrating around him like a song of a high-strung bow. And she looked again and was caught in the storm-grey eyes and she knew. She just knew.
And the knowledge hit her like a punch in the stomach and she couldn't breathe, couldn't carry herself, couldn't think of anything else but the man who had been thought dead and over whose demise she had shed tears no matter how odd it might be to feel sorrow for the loss of one's jailor.
And then everything had gone black.
2. The Brotherhood of Winged Knights established
The Vale Gazette - The Eighth Day of the Eighth Moon
Ser Lucas of House Corbray, Ser Eustace of House Hunter, Ser Jasper and Ser Jon of House Redfort, Ser Andar of House Royce (of Runestone), Ser Donnel of House Waynwood, Ser Edmund of House Waxley and Ser Deano of House Ambrose.
Names of these glorious Knights shall remain in the Annals of History as the Founding Members of the noble Brotherhood of Winged Knights with its foremost Duty being the protection of our good the Lord of the Vale and the Warden of the East, Lord Robert Arryn, ready to give their Lives for the good of the aforementioned High Lord.
There was a great amount of Excitement and many Courageous Deeds committed over the course of the Great Tournament, where marvellous acts of Bravery, Skill and Mastery of Arms were performed to the Amazement and Admiration of the appreciative Audience.
The First Day was occupied by Jousting, lasting from morn till noon and again till almost sunset. The accomplishments, both Losses and Wins of the Day can be found in the broadsheet accompanying this edition of The Gazette for those who have a keen eye for such Details, but suffice to say that in the end it was Ser Andar of House Royce who prevailed over his Companions with most Points awarded.
The Second Day was reserved for Sword Fighting and many stunning Duels were fought in the shadow of the Grand Stand erected for the Occasion. The Outcome of this Event hang in the balance until the very last hair-raising Battle between the last two remaining Combatants, and it is with greatest Pleasure that we can announce this Event too having been won by a man of the Vale Ser Lucas of House Corbray and not his opponent Canis Lupus from the Riverlands, who, while fighting Valiantly, at last succumbed surprisingly abruptly to the harried advances of the Worthy Winner. (Curiously he was the Second-Placed Combatant also in the previous day's Jousting.)
The Morning of the Third Day saw the Great Archery Competition, which also drew Supreme Quality Participants, it having been acknowledged that Skills in this Art will serve well the Aim of protection of Our Lord. Ser Donnel of House Waynwood was the Most Superiour in this Difficult and Demanding Task and was awarded Well-Earned purse for the Archery and most Valuable Points for the Highest Prize.
After Midday meal the Most anticipated Event, the Great Melee, took place, starting with all Combatants in the Lists. The Ebb of Battle, at times so Real and Life-Like that such Persons who had joined the Rebellion of Good King Robert attested that it was akin to stepping back in Time to the shores of Trident and the Heated Battles that led to the Demise of the Targaryen Reign.
Factions and temporary Alliances were formed during the course of the Melee to the Aid and Advancement of the members of such Alliances, only to be unravelling later when the Tide of Battle turned Allies to Enemies once again. The only exception was the Lone Combatant from the Riverlands, Canis Lupus (who turned out not in fact to be a Knight after all but was allowed to continue in the Lists nonetheless due to his Battle Prowess so amply demonstrated during the Course of the Tournament). He fought alone from Start to Finish, surprising Great Many by his Endurance against the Overwhelming Odds.
In the End Ser Deano of House Ambrose proved to be Best in the Field although the unexpected Demise of Canis Lupus at the dying moment of the Melee was most Unexpected in the Light of his earlier Achievements. It was widely speculated that only a Grievous Injury might have accounted for such Downfall, but as this Combatant would not have been eligible for the Highest Prize due to his Position in Life, the Outcome seeing him with the Second-Placed Purse must have well pleased him nonetheless.
The distinguished Panel of Judges tallied the Points collected during the Three Days of Tournament and announced the Brave Knights of the Brotherhood in the Festivities of the Evening to general Applause. The rest of the Evening was spent in Merriment and Entertainment, affably hosted by Lord Robert and Lord Protector of the Vale.
He was different. He was same as she had seen him last. He was a contradiction – always a contradiction; a cruel warrior who had softly wiped her lip and yet had also let her feel the cold kiss of his dagger on her throat.
Sansa couldn't help it; she followed him through the tournament with keen eyes, straining to hide it from everyone and most of all from Lord Baelish. For once however his 'father's' attention was not as sharply turned to her as usually among the flurry of activities and intrigues surrounding the gathering.
He fought well – as she had known he would. Seeing him alive and breathing, seeing sweat of exhaustion trickle down his face, seeing muscles in his forearms contracting and flexing, seeing him wipe his face with weariness, seeing him glower his opponents from under his thick brows – how he was REAL and HERE and NOW… Sansa tried to fit the real man with the image she had kept – built? – in her mind and detect where the two did not fit. And as she did so the image disappeared as a puff of smoke and all she was left with was the man of flesh and bone in front of her.
Soon she realised that he didn't fight to win; he competed until it was only two men left and then he seemed to give in, to yield. Was he after the purses if not for the fame and honour – and why was he here at all? Why here of all places, in the secret hideaway of hers? Was that a coincidence, a happen-chance? Where had he been all these years? Surely he hadn't been the infamous outlaw as rumours claimed. A relief sang in Sansa's veins and she felt vindicated of refusing to believe the tales – bar the one about his supposed death which had been too much to ignore.
When Sansa looked back to the moment of recognition she realised that his eyes had not betrayed surprise, not widened in recognition as hers must have - no, he had known.
'And what of it?' she scolded herself quietly. Their time in King's Landing had been a lifetime ago and they both had shed their skins and were not the same people anymore. She a bastard daughter of a lord, he – but why had he chosen a bird and a hound as his pretend sigil? Hound, yes, but a bird? And what kind of a name was Canis Lupus – a wolf?
Sansa could ask none of these questions from him. All she had was the sight of him in action, scrutiny of purposeful movements of his body on the field, fluent and forceful and almost invincible. Maybe it was only her extreme attention that made her notice things the others didn't; the subtle stiffness of his leg, the faint restraint when he worked it too hard. He must have hurt himself and the realisation flooded Sansa with strange emotions. Compassion, protectiveness, recognition that the ferocious Hound was indeed nothing more but a man.
She saw him watching her in return when he had a chance. Not direct gazes but sideways looks, sharp and sudden glances when his eyes swept the audience and stopped for just a fraction of a moment on her. The weight of it was like a touch and she shivered when she felt it.
At the conclusion of the tournament Sansa walked the line of participants and muttered congratulations and compliments to the eager-eyed knights. She knew his turn would come and she both feared and yearned it. Every step towards the end of the line saw her more nervous and more exhilarated – and then he was in front of her, only a hand span separating them.
He looked different with his hair shorn until only a stubble remained, beardless, half of his face covered with a mask made of soft leather and carefully tied around his head to keep it in place even in the heat of a battle. Skilful hands had made it, every stitch fine and strong, and suddenly Sansa found herself unreasonably resentful towards the woman - as who else it could have been – who had made it.
The visible half of his face, without the distraction of the scarred side, was…normal, even ordinary. Bold lines, strong features, hooked nose and weathered skin, lively eyes with astoundingly long and dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks when he appraised her with half-lidded eyes.
When the moment came she took a deep breath and whispered in a low voice.
"It is you."
"Aye, it is me. What is left of me." A low growl that had not changed and it jolted her in the strangest way.
"Left?" Sansa was puzzled.
"The Hound is no more." Air flared through his nostrils. "Is it you, little bird?"
That was the question, wasn't it? Was she herself now – had she been herself then? Who was she? Randa, a step ahead of her, had stopped to jape with the next man in line so Sansa had a moment to think.
"Yes, it is me. Behind the mask." Yes. Although - it sounded ironic considering that he was the one wearing it.
"Do you want to go home?"
A shock. A spark jolting though her, a tingling that started from her stomach and spread throughout her body, a feeling of something warm and heavy – like the bloody white cloak she had hidden in her chest. Then the line moved and the man behind her started to sputter enthusiastic praises about the battle prowess of the warrior and Sansa was pushed away.
She looked behind her shoulder and saw him looking at her and she held his gaze as he did his until Randa tugged hear arm and forced her to turn away.
