"No horse, no tourney armour, no entry," said the portly official behind the registry desk. He was balding at the top of his head and a second chin was forming under his first. No doubt on account of his love of mutton and the most work he did all day was copying texts, or taking down names. Evidenced by his ink stained fingers and the deft grace with which he used the quill pen clutched between his fingers.

"What do you mean tourney armour? He's wearing armour right now," said Madeline, and gestured to the gleaming silvery steel plate that covered Arthur's body from head to toe.

"That armour is too light. It's more suited for battle than tourney jousting," rebutted the official. "If he wants to compete he needs a harness, and a horse."

"How can it be suited for battle and not jousting? That's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard!"

"Because a harness means that your brave ser knight here doesn't die when Jaime Lannister or the Mountain knock him on his ass. Now please Septa, there are other's in line."

"Knock him down?!" sputtered Madeline furiously. "I'll have you know that Arthur here could beat every knight here with one arm tied behind his back and blindfolded! Including Jaime Lannister!"

"My lady, please, there is no need to make a scene. We will find another way," placated Arthur.

"I'm not making a scene!" said Madeline hotly, rounding on the King of Knights. "I'm only trying to make this dunce see reason!"

"Dunce?!" fumed the portly man behind the registry table. "One more word out you and both of you will be banned from the tourney grounds, much less be competing. Now either come back with a horse and harness set of armour, or get out of my sight! In fact, if you don't have a horse and harness you won't be competing at all in anything!"

"As you say, and I beg your pardon for the outburst sir. I pray you take it for the words spoken without thought that they are, rather than directed insult which they seem."

"Just get going," huffed the man, turning to the next knight in line seeking to be registered for the tourney, Madeline still flushed with anger.

"What a clod!" fumed Madeline, once they were away from the registry table and back at their own tent at the furthest edge of the tourney grounds reserved for knights without family connections or money. Their tent was a dull grey thing that flew no banners and bore no heraldry. While other tents had time honoured crests and coat of arms with colourful pennants fluttering proudly in the breeze. While other knights had mighty and proud destrier or coursers out front, proud horses of war with fine pedigrees, Arthur and Madeline had a stubborn old ass greedily eating grass. "What is this business about a harness suit? You are not a horse, and you already have a fine set of armour, better than any that they would wear."

"He only does as he is bid to prevent unnecessary injury or loss of life Master," said Arthur calmly. "A harness is tourney armour, thicker and heavier to better absorb the repeated blows of lances and keep the wearer from harm. It is too heavy and restrictive to use in actual battle despite the protection it offers, which is why it is restricted to use in tourneys where the distance to walk while wearing it is from bench to saddle."

Madeline merely crossed her arms and nibbled at her cheeks, letting out a frustrated snort as fury still swirled about inside of her.

"It's still stupid," said Madeline finally. "Not like any of them could actually hurt you anyways."

"Maybe not, but when I held tourneys I demanded much the same of those who wished to enter. A tournament is meant as a spectacle for the common people, and a chance for knights to test their skills against one another in honourable competition. No one is supposed to be hurt in a tournament, much less lose their life. I may not be able to enter the competition anymore, but we will find another way Master. Of that you have my word."

"But the winner's purse and recognition is what we needed from the jousting," said Madeline, anger draining from her voice. Leaving her instead sounding and looking very tired, worn out would be a better way of putting it. Travelling rations and having been on the move constantly was tiring enough on a person, more so now that she was sustaining both herself and Arthur. "We could done so much with the winner's purse, and even be granted an audience with the King. We could have plead our case directly to him and...and," said Madeline faltering, eyes losing focus and face losing some of its pallor.

In an instant Arthur was at her side and guiding her to the back of their empty cart, before gently helping her to sit. The grumbling of Madeline's stomach making itself well know.

"Sorry, I haven't eaten yet today," said Madeline, voice sounding subdued.

"Here, Master," said Arthur, holding out some of the smoked fish that they still had from WillowBirch.

"It's alright, you need to eat too. You say that you don't, but your belly rumbles the same as mine when you don't."

'I've already eaten today Master, and besides we have plenty left in the cart. Please, eat."

"Well, if we have plenty left," said Madeline, and began to eat the smoked fish. Colour returning to her face as she did so and Arthur willing his stomach not to growl while she did so. He hadn't eaten today, or yesterday either, and while it was true that he didn't need to eat to survive, his stomach still demanded food and would pain him the same as when he had been alive if he was hungry and did not eat. They also did not have much food remaining. Indeed, they had enough for three of four more days at most which was indeed plenty for Madeline for the time being, so long as he didn't eat any. Still, they needed food and to get food they needed money, for Arthur would not steal or take what he had not earned.

"I must confess that I truly did wish to see you joust," admitted Madeline, wiping at her mouth with a cloth kerchief.

"Then joust I shall Master."

"But you don't have the right armour or a horse. Or even lances for that matter," said Madeline. "Or can you make those too?" asked the septa curiously.

"I do not Master, and I do not think that it would be wise to experiment where we are to see if I can, though I even doubt my ability to do so."

"No, I suppose not," said Madeline sheepishly. "But you believe that you can still joust? How?"

"I have a few ideas Master, but you should rest first. You haven't had a proper sleep since we left WillowBirch. It is quiet here so far removed from the rest of the tents. I believe that your rest will be undisturbed and peaceful."

"I suppose I do feel weary," admitted Madeline.

"Would you like me to draw some fresh water for you first Master? Anything I can get for you?"

"No, it's alright. Sleep will be all I require for now. You should rest too," said Madeline.

"I will rest when I have secured what I need. Come now Master, you look exhausted."

It didn't take long for Madeline to fall asleep. Indeed, the moment her head touched her bedroll she was fast asleep, breathing peacefully as the troubles of the past few days seemed to flee from her face. She was strong for a mage, incredibly strong to sustain a heroic spirit as powerful as Arthur by herself, yet such a thing without training no matter the power of the mage would still take its toll. Arthur owed his current freedom from his torment to her, and if she wished to see him joust, he would joust. He would not disregard his honour to see it happen, but his pride he would shed like a cloak on a hot summer's day to see her wish fulfilled.

Xxx

"Ha hah ha!" go beg somewhere else hedge knight, there are no scraps of steel here for you!"

"As you say good Ser, thank you for your time. You honour me with-" Arthur stopped as a goblet of wine struck off his breastplate, splashing up onto his face and staining his blue tunic.

"There's a drink for your honour, now fuck off!" cursed the knight whom Arthur had asked if he had any spare armour pieces that he could use. Even a spare tourney lance that he would be willing to part with. To be repaid in full for the privilege of course once the tournament was concluded.

"My apologies for troubling you Ser," said Arthur after a pause, suffering rejection for the hundredth time, from as many knights and giving a short bow, before leaving the frontage of the knight's tent. No lord had deigned to see him, nor would their knights stand to see him given the chance to speak were he to stumble across one in his travels. He had no name worth knowing, no renown in these lands, and came to these knights as a beggar.

"Friend, come share our fire," called out a knight in simple armour to Arthur, surrounded by a half-dozen or so other poor knights. "They possessed no tents, and the tourney armour they had was old and battered, mended many times over passed what would have been considered safe for actual use. Yet, they all had horses, swords, tourney lances, and what. They also had food roasting over the flames, the smell of which was enticing and caused Arthur's stomach to growl with angry demand.

"I thank you for the courtesy," said Arthur, taking a seat on a log that they had dragged to serve as a bench around their fire. "I am Ser Arthur Pendragon, may I know your names as well?"

"Well I'm Ser Robert, just not the kingly one," snorted the knight with laughter. "This large and fine specimen of a man here is Ser Edgar, and the tall man with no meat on his bones is Ser Doyle. Then there's Ser Edward and Ser Edward, don't bother trying to tell them apart, because I sure can't," said Ser Robert. "And lastly, the little man here is Ser Paul. Recently just became a knight too, was my squire wouldn't you know?"

"Are you hungry at all friend?" asked Ser Edgar, the large man fanning cool air onto himself with a fan that looked eastern in origin.

Before Arthur could refuse the offer, his belly rumbled again loudly, answering for him.

"Sounds like he is," said Ser Doyle, the lanky knight with ginger hair taking a leg of mutton off the spit and handing it to Arthur. "Here, take a bite or you might end up looking like me."

"It's a terrible fate, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone," said Ser Robert, brown eyes twinkling with mirth.

"You honour me," said Arthur humbly.

"Honour? My dear Ser, we're just feeding you is all. We've all been pissed on by landed knights enough times that the stink will never come out. Hedge knights have to look out for each other after all. What are you asking about for anyways? Your armour looks of fine make at least."

"It is, but it is the only set I possess. A set of tourney armour and a horse is what I require to enter," said Arthur, swallowing the mouthful of mutton he had dug into greedily.

"Better luck getting into the pleasure houses of Lys for free than getting charity from those stuffy Sers my friend. Hey, I meant no offence good Ser, I know that some of us take our oaths more seriously than others and I didn't mean to present assumption."

"The fault is mine, I should not be so quick to take offence at a turn of phrase," said Arthur apologetically, the dark look having left his face.

"It's alright friend, us hedge knights have little but our honour and for some of us it's the most precious thing we own. I may not have much, but I have never stolen, never raped, never killed an innocent, and I defended a woman's virtue from wildlings during my time in the North."

"You took it right back though," said Ser Edward, the one on the right for what it was worth since both of the men looked identical down to the armour that they wore.

"Well, I mean, she was grateful," said Ser Robert, something like a blush coming onto his face.

"And you weren't going bald back then. Looked half like a knight then," said Ser Paul, the smallest and youngest of the knights with startlingly blue eyes.

"The disrespect!" said Ser Robert, feigning insult. "I must surely have failed as a tutor to you young Ser Paul!"

"Yup," said the younger knight, before both he and his older mentor chuckled.

"Any reason in particular you're looking to get into the tourney?" asked the other Ser Edward.

"My Lady wishes to see me joust," said Arthur, pausing as the assembled hedge knights gave each other a knowing look.

"An endeavour that every man can understand then," said Ser Robert grinning.

"She is also a septa," added Arthur.

"Oh," said all the assembled knights at once.

"Bugger," said Ser Doyle simply.

"Then are you jousting for money, or hoping for a lord to take you on as a landed knight?" asked Ser Robert.

"Neither. My Lady and I wish to use the money of the winner's purse to help the people of WillowBirch recover from a bandit attack, and use the rest to help the poor of King's Landing."

"You're entering in the primaries then?" asked Ser Doyle surprised, the ginger night pausing from his meal.

"Indeed. The winner's purse is the only sum sizable enough to do what my lady and I wish to do."

"So you don't want the money for yourself then?" asked Ser Robert.

"Not when there are those more needy that I," answered Arthur. "The gleam of gold can not drive away the shame of selfishness that would surely cover me were I to keep it all for myself."

"You know," said Ser Robert slowly studying Arthur. "If anyone else had told me that, I would have laughed or else just thought they were preening themselves at how noble they are. But you, I believe you."

"Your faith is well received, as if your hospitality, but I fear without patronage I will never see the jousting arena. Not from the saddle at least."

"Maybe, maybe not," said Ser Robert slowly. "Well, I don't have much, but I do have an extra lance," said Ser Robert, handing one of four tourney lances he had to Arthur. "Not like I'm going use more than one, maybe two anyways."

"I can't accept that, you have so little already," said Arthur at the unexpected generosity.

"Like I said Ser Arthur, us hedge knights have so little that our honour is the most precious thing we own. You would not refuse a gift once offered would you?" asked Ser Robert.

"No, of course not," said Arthur, only to have the wooden lance tossed into his lap.

"Then take it already," said the hedge knight smiling.

"Do you have a shield?" asked Ser Edgar, pausing from his fanning for a moment.

"Regrettably I do not," said Arthur.

"Can't joust without a shield," said Ser Edgar reaching behind him and pulling out a battered and old wooden shield. "Hasn't let me down yet, and it should be able to take a few more good thumps yet."

"You'll need to reserve your name on the list too, they stop taking names at midday for the primaries," said one of the Edwards. "Only got a few coppers though, what about the rest of you lot?"

The rest of the hedge knights found their coin purses and took out what they thought they could give without going hungry, putting the coins into Arthur's hands, his protests falling on deaf ears.

"The lords money is good enough for you, but ours isn't?" asked Ser Robert playfully.

"I did not mean for...thank you," said Arthur bowing his head in respect and smiling sincerely. "I swear to you on my honour as a knight I will repay each and every one of you a thousand fold for what you have given to me today."

"Well then you had better go hurry and reserve a spot and hope you find a horse and armour, because that's money you don't get back if you drop out. Go on, they close up soon."

"Gratitude again, from one knight to another, I promise that this gift shall not go unrewarded," said Arthur, before taking off the registry.

"If I had looked like that, a lot more maidens would have been grateful," chuckled Ser Robert, grabbing another leg of mutton.

Xxx

"Can I help you?" asked a well dressed man with close trimmed hair and a short, but well maintained moustache and slight beard. Hair showing streaks of grey as he approached his middle years. An expensive dagger sitting on the belt of his tunic. An important man if Arthur had ever seen one, and Arthur had seen many.

"I beg a moment of your time my Lord," said Arthur. "My name is Ser Arthur Pendragon."

"I am not familiar with the name. Who is your lord?"

"I walk under no banner but my own, my Lord."

"A hedge knight then. Do you know who I am?"

"No my Lord I fear I do not."

"I am Lord Baelish, Master of Coin for King Robert Baratheon and as such have grown quite accustomed to men shaking their tin cups at me, so shake yours and say what you must if it means you will no longer accost me. Or have I misunderstood your intentions?"

"No, you have not misunderstood my intentions," said Arthur, the shame of the barb and the act of begging gnawing at him. "I seek patronage for the Hand's Tournament. A horse and set of armour is all I require to enter Lord Baelish."

"Just a horse and armour you say? Do you need training as well and a squire?"

"I have skill enough and I have no need of a squire," said Arthur embarassed.

"And why would I give coin to such a knight hmm? One with no name, no horse, a shiny suit of armour that has seen no battle, and a piece of scrap that he calls a blade?" demanded Lord Baelish.

"I would fight for your honour my Lord, and half of my winnings would go to you for your patronage. I would dedicate my victories to you and bring you glory in the coming days. This I swear on my honour as a knight."

"On your honour you say? What can I buy with your honour? Can I take it to the butcher and get a slab of beef or the wine merchant for a cask of Dornish Red?"

"No...my Lord."

"Then you have my answer," said Baelish.

"Thank you for your time Lord Baelish," said Arthur, moving out of the way of the Master of Coin as he strode past, heading for the largest tent on the tourney grounds, the one belonging to King Robert Baratheon.

Arthur looked to the sky and the red glow of the setting sun. If he wasn't on the tourney list by the time it set, he would not be in primaries, and would be unable to fulfill his master's wishes. He would fail her, just as he had failed everyone else. The thought threatened to seize his chest and tear its way out of his breast in savage fury. The clink of coins dragged Arthur out of his own thoughts and he turned to the sound.

A knight that towered over Arthur by at least six inches and had half of his face horribly burned, leaving a patch that looked like burned leather by his mouth to reach halfway up the mottled side of his face. Hair grew in scraggly clumps on that side of his head that had been touched by flame, falling in lank strands over his face. His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl, but not as a result of the scars on his face, at least not physically. A large bastard sword was strapped to his back, but he was not the one clinking the coins together. No, that was his charge.

A young boy on the cusp of entering manhood with golden hair and fine clothes sporting lions on the breast was tossing a coin purse lightly into the air and catching it as it came back down for a rattle of gold and silver.

"So you need gold then do you?" asked the boy looking at the coins in his hand, as if contemplating giving them to Arthur. "I could give you that. A horse and armour too."

"My Lord, that would be," began Arthur.

"Is that how you address your Crown Prince?" demanded the boy, anger darkening his face. "I had thought of sponsoring you, but if you possess not even the most basic of courtesies then I think I will reconsider."

"Forgive me your highness for my ignorance," said Arthur sinking to a bended knee and bowing his head to the prince.

"That's better, but forgiveness is a lot to ask," said the boy airily, that Arthur now recognized to be Joffrey Baratheon. Heir to King Robert Baratheon and the Iron Throne.

"A lapse of judgment your highness, I meant no offence."

"If your mind is so simple as to lapse in this, how am I to know that it will not do the same on the tourney grounds?"

"You have my word that it will not your highness," said Arthur.

"Your word. What else do I get besides your word?" asked Joffrey, circling Arthur, clinking his coins and his scarred bodyguard watching Arthur intently for any signs of violence.

"I would bring you glory and-"

"Glory? Glory from a hedge knight? I don't think you would know glory if you found it in the pig shit you sleep in," spat Joffrey and Arthur remained silent, biting his tongue at the insult.

"I do suppose that charity is a good quality for a king, if done in measured doses. What say you hedge knight?"

"Generosity is a virtue that all knights are sworn to aspire to your highness," answered Arthur tonelessly.

"You're right. It is," said Joffrey and extended a hand towards Arthur. One bestowed with a golden ring emblazoned with a lion on it. "Kiss it, and you can have my patronage," said Joffrey.

Slowly, Arthur lifted his head and kissed the golden right upon the prince's hand.

"Thank you your highness, I will dedicate every victory I win to your name."

"Good, I'm sure I can do something everything that you will win. There is another virtue that knights aspire to though isn't there?" asked Joffrey looking away like he was trying to think of it, but the gleam in his eye spoke of the mockery he was about to set forth.

"There are many virtues that knights aspire to your highness," said Arthur, preparing himself for the boy's game.

"Yes, but there's one in particular that I'm trying to think of. What was it, what was it," pondered the prince aloud.

"Humility is a virtue is it not? One that all knights are to aspire to achieve?"

"It is your highness," said Arthur.

"Then I wish to test your virtue," said Joffrey pushing his right leather booted foot forward. "Kiss it. You've already kissed my ring, this is not much different is it?"

Anger rushed up into Arthur, at the humiliation that this boy was forcing him to endure. He was still a knight, even if an impoverished one and was due at least the most basic of courtesy. To force any man to kiss your boot was to show that you thought less of them than a dog. Than a rat scurrying around in the gutters among the shit and refuse. Arthur would not to be demeaned in such a manner. No man deserved to be demeaned in such a way, especially not for the amusement of an arrogant boy! And yet, he had sworn to himself that he would shed his pride like a cloak on a hot summer's day if it meant fulfilling his master's wishes, and it was his pride now that rebelled at the thought of this humiliation. He had sworn that he would joust and if this is what it took to joust honourably, he would endure it. Slowly, Arthur lowered his head to kiss the leather boot of the prince.

"What are you doing?" demanded Joffrey. "That is much too far a distance to lean down, you'll hurt your back. Lay on your stomach and kill my boot," said Joffrey and Arthur stayed still for a moment, before lowering himself down to his stomach, and kissing the leather of the boot.

"Look at that Dog, there is another to keep you company in the kennel," said Joffrey to his bodyguard.

"Maybe one to lick the shit from my heels," said the scarred knight.

"Yet he has been an obedient mutt, and I did promise him patronage. Come along mutt, your reward awaits," said Joffrey gesturing for Arthur to follow which he did. For his Master's happiness, he would pay any price.

He followed the crown prince to the King's Tent, and the royal smithy that was a handful of steps away from it.

Hanging from racks and adorning stands were many fine suits of armour, lances, and tourney swords decorating the walls. Most emblazoned proudly with the stag of House Baratheon bearing the royal crown around its neck. Joffrey headed towards an especially fine suit of armour that was painted a deep forest green in Arthur's size, and looked at it for a moment like he was going to take it from its rack. Then, the crown prince kept walking. He walked past racks of other armour and weapons, stopping at the end in front of a suit of high quality armour. I this this will do," said Joffrey, before opening a chest at the edge of the tent and upending it.

Spare sets of greaves, bracers, gauntlets, helmets, and all manner of armour pieces came tumbling out and onto the grass as she did so in a clatter of steel. No two pieces of armour matching as they rolled onto the ground. Dented, rusted, or otherwise having some fault with them, if not entirely too small or too large for Arthur. They were clearly spares, or else surviving pieces of older sets that had yet to have their steel repurposed into more useful things.

"Well? Aren't you happy with your gift?" asked the Prince smirking, the scarred knight standing a little straighter behind the prince as if expecting a fight.

"You kept your word your highness, for that I am grateful," said Arthur humbly sinking to one knee and bowing his head, surprising the young prince who had seemed like he had been hoping for a more violent outburst, or to see the dismay on Arthur's face at the poor reward. Instead he received stoic courtesy and an unfazed knight.

"Yes, well, it is a kingly thing to do," said Joffrey tossing a sheet of burlap for onto the ground for Arthur to bundle up his new 'armour'.

"Indeed it is your highness. You also said that you had a horse for me?" asked Arthur.

"I did. Gather your armour mutt and follow."

"As you say your highness."

Arthur gathered the armour pieces into a functional suit more or less, and followed behind the prince to a circle pen of horses. Immediately Arthur could immediately tell that they were not tourney horses. Yearling horses, they were green broke, if that and entirely untrained in jousting.

"Dog, give the mutt a horse and let's be on our way. I grow tired of this," said Joffrey sounding frustrated as Arthur maintained his stoic expression. "Actually, give him that one," said Joffrey pointing to a particularly unruly buckskin, that kicked and bucked as they drew closer to it.

"Fucking bitch," cursed the scarred knight as he fought to get the unruly horse to follow him out of the pen, looping a rope around its neck, practically dragging it out. The buckskin kicking and snorting, running itself in circles, whinnying, and throwing its head

"Take it," grunted the scarred man referred to as 'Dog' as he handed the rope to Arthur.

The King of Knights took the lead rope of the rearing horse, standing his ground as it came crashing down to the ground and shook its head, neighing unhappily.

"Calm now," cooed Arthur, holding his hand up to the Buckskin's face. The yearling shaking its head briefly before Arthur shushed it, stroking its face and it calmed itself and became docile, nuzzling Arthur's hand.

Arthur had trained horses for a long time in his life, but he could feel that this was more than that. That it was one of his skills as a saber class servant.

"Thank you for the armour and the horse your highness, I will use them proudly in your name," said Arthur, giving a formal bow.

"Yes, well, off you go," said Joffrey, clearly upset that his fun had been spoiled.

Xxx

When Madeline woke, she did so with an expansive yawn at the morning sun rising to greet them. She let out a startled yelp as she realized that Arthur was in the tent as well, sleeping soundly mere inches from her. Madeline blushed at the proximity, but that didn't stop her from ogling her knight.

He looked peaceful when he slept, like the worries of the world left him and in his dreams and he was unburdened by whatever it was that troubled him.

This is scandalous, it is immoral and wrong, repeated Madeline over and over in her mind as she sidled up next to her knight as he slept, the two of them still separated by their wool blankets, but she could still feel the heat of his body through the light covering. He began to stir and in a panic, Madeline feigned sleep as her knight woke. Madeline could hear Arthur rise and begin to move about the tent, getting ready for the day, but pausing and walk over to her.

She felt him grab the top of her blanket and she half wondered what his intentions were, the most scandalous part of her wondering if he would pull it off of her along with her underclothes and have the two of them couple in courtly love, and that same scandalous part of her welcoming the idea. Instead, he pulled the blanket up around her shoulders to keep the morning chill away from her. Tucking in the edges like she was a small child being tucked into bed. Madeline found that she found almost as appealing as what the scandalous part of her had wanted.

Madeline waited several more minutes, before rising herself, feigning rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning Master, did you sleep well?"

"Yes. Overly long I think by the look of things," said Madeline, looking at the rising sun.

"Not too long Master, the jousting is yet to start for another few hours and I was going to check the listings after cooking us breakfast to see when I would start."

Well I-oh you got a horse," said Madeline staring at the buckskin yearling. "And armour, if mismatched," said Madeline looking at the assembled pieces of armour laying on the ground. "What did it cost you to get them?"

"Nothing I was not willing to give Master."

"Well like I was saying, I can finish cooking if you want to go check the listings," said Madeline.

"Master, it is fine I could not ask you to do tha-"

"Scoot, scoot," said Madeline ushering Arthur away from the fire. "Go and check when your turn is."

"As you wish Master," said Arthur with his face stuck in its ever stoic courtesy.

While he was gone, Madeline ensured that the morning soup did not boil over, but while she did that, she traced the outline of the crest that she had seen emblazoned on Arthur's silvery steel armour that he could make appear at will onto a worn wooden shield. Soon a snarling dragon was emblazoned in red paint on the wooden shield.

She was startled by quick footsteps approaching their tent and was surprised to see that it was Arthur running up to the tent.

"Something urgent?" asked Madeline Curiously.

"I am first to joust and they have moved the times forward. I must be ready in twenty minutes," said Arthur, stripping down to his underclothes in front of Madeline who blushed profusely at the sight, but did not look away from the King of Knights muscled form.

While he dressed quickly in his mismatched armour Madeline realized something about him. He was well muscled for sure, the result of years of martial discipline and training, and he had scars of battle on his body from such a life, but all of the scars were on his front. His back was as unmarred and smooth as that of a new born babe, if rippling with iron hard muscle. Because he never turned his back to his enemies realized Madeline with a start. He always faced them head on.

Madeline helped Arthur dress quickly, and soon he was upon his buckskin horse, practice lance in hand and heading for the tourney grounds, Madeline walking at his side. His mismatched armour jangling and rattling as he rode, making quite the racket. Not at all like the form fitting armour of silvery steel that he could make appear from magic.

Madeline had to separate from Arthur when they reached the jousting arena, sitting in the stands with the rest of the small folk viewing the tourney and waited for the tournament to begin.

The opening match, before the primaries was between the last two knights of the preliminaries from the previous days. The jousts for knights unwilling to risk their armour and their horses on a joust, and so the purse they received would be meagre as a result, and had drawn smaller crowds, though had cheaper rates to see. Madeline knew neither of them and cared not who the victor was, and neither did the rest of the crowd it seemed. Even the hedge knights had seemed eager to clear the field as soon as the joust was done.

A few short minutes later saw a master of ceremonies wearing a tunic bearing the stag of the Baratheon Royal family make his way to the centre of the arena. The opening speeches having already been given that everyone had waited through impatiently.

"As the Hand's Tourney commences, the first competitors are as follows. Ser Jaime Lannister, loyal member of the Kingsguard," said the master of ceremonies and Jaime Lannister rode onto the field to the roaring cheers of the crowd. His golden armour shining in the early morning sun, and white cloak flapping proudly in the breeze. His powerful courser completing the impression of a pure golden knight. He saluted the crowd with his lance and took position at the far end of the field. "And Ser Arthur Pendragon. Hedge knight," said the master of ceremonies and Arthur took to the field. His buckskin yearling smaller than Jaime's courser by several hands and his mismatched armour rattling and clanking together as he rode. He was met by raucous laughter and jeering from the crowd. The more bold of which throwing fruit or vegetables at him.

Madeline's anger rose like a fiery froth and she grabbed one laughing man who had his arm cocked back to throw a tomato at Arthur, causing him to look back in time to receive a resounding slap that left Madeline's hand imprinted on his face.

"Show respect heathen!" seethed Madeline, the startled man gaping and unsure of what to do, bewildered even that a septa had struck him. He did put the tomato down though.

When the jeering stopped though, the knights rode ahead and saluted each other, and then the king as they each switched sides on the field. They brought their horses to a stop, the pawing of the beasts kicking up dust as the anticipation to run with all their might built up. As Madeline watched, Arthur looked from the far end of the field to where she was sitting and raised his lance more in salute, setting her heart aflutter.

With a blaring of trumpets, the two knights kicked their horses in the flanks and charged at each other full tilt, lances lowering as the distance closes and there was a shower of wooden splinters as both lances shattered and a spray of dirt as a knight hit the ground. Madeline gasped in shock along with the rest of the crowd, then cheered loudly as Arthur raised the remains of his lance in a salute as was proper as he passed the unhorsed Jaimie Lannister, turning again and saluting towards the royal booth, the Crown Prince looking decidedly unhappy at the outcome of the joust.

Madeline cheered loudly again as Arthur rode past the viewing stands where she was seated and raised his broken lance in salute again, but to her alone again this time.

Xxx

"Y...you unhorsed Jamie Lannister?" said Ser Robert numbly, glancing to Arthur, then to the white courser and golden armour set attached to it and back to Arthur again. The hedge knight seeming unable to believe the fact.

"I did, and I won many more tourney lances as well," said Arthur, a small playful grin on his face.

"A great victory for you then Ser Arthur, congratulations," said Ser Robert.

"Thank you Ser Robert, but it was with your lance that I struck the victorious blow, so this victory is mine as well as yours."

"Ha!" chuckled Ser Robert. "That piece of wood? Cheapest that they sell, think nothing of it. That horse however, is something to think of. Look at it, magnificent."

"But I think everything of it," said Arthur. "I had nothing but my name and honour, and you had little yourself and yet you gave it to me without thought of reward or return. A man who you knew nothing of other than he was another knight asking for charity. Without that lance, I could not have competed, nor could I have won. So now I keep my word. Repaid, a thousand times over," said Arthur, holding out the reigns of the proud white courser to the hedge knight.

"This is more than a thousand times over Ser Arthur. That armour alone is worth a small fortune and that brand? The Lannisters private stables, you can not buy a horse such as this unless you are a Lannister."

"You said that hedge knights value their honour more than anything else did you not Ser Robert? Well so do I, and I always keep the promises that I make. You would not refuse a gift once offered would you?" asked Arthur.

"No. No I don't think I would," said Ser Robert dumbly, taking the reigns of the courser, and gazing at the riches in both coin and armour it carried. Its very saddle inlaid with silver and gold. "But the difference in value," trailed off the knight.

"Is of no consequence. You gave all that you could, and now so do I. The trade is a fair one. You are an honourable man Ser Robert, I hope you know that. I look forward to seeing you again, and please let the others know that I have not forgotten their aid as well. As soon as I win more jousts I will repay them in kind just the same. We should talk again later, but for now I must return to the tourney grounds. I would also like you to meet My Lady, so long as you remember your bawdy humour is best left around your fire and away from a lady's ears."

"I will remember it, y...Ser Arthur," said Ser Robert and watched Arthur ride away in a clatter of ill-fitting armour. Ser Robert didn't know why, but he had felt the overwhelming urge to call the young knight your grace. The same courtesy that he would have afforded Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet this was not a forced courtesy, rather something he had felt proper to say. The only thing to say. Strange.

AN: Well I went and bought a laptop on sale, because I remembered my new job pays a lot more money, so I should be able to update fairly frequently. I had this whole scene in my head which made it easy to write which is nice. As always, thanks for reading and please leave a review.