The castle was practically empty for the afternoon, as most people had abandoned their posts in favor of attending the Autumn tourney, which was taking place just outside the city walls. From her place by the sink, Rowan imagined she could hear the cheers of the crowd. It was high noon, and the jousting was about to start.

The new cook, Shanda, was not happy with the state of the kitchens, and had gotten them all up before dawn to scrub the place clean. Rowan had swept the floors, cleared mouse traps, cleaned under the counters, and even scraped grime from between the flagstones. Now, sore and weary, she had been set to scrubbing the massive black pots under the implication that if she finished quickly, she might be allowed outside. Behind her, Suzana was attacking the dust-encrusted windows with equal vigour.

"Who is taking part today?" She called back. "In the tourney?"

"Oh, I hear everyone is entering at least one event." Margaret replied from under one of the tables. "Ser Meryn and Ser Gregor are in for the joust. Not against each other, mind you. Ser Boros and Sandor Clegane are in for single combat…"

"What about Ser Jaime, will he fight?" Suzana asked, a blush starting in her cheeks.

"I've not heard of it, but I'd imagine he'll enter the single combat events." Margaret answered.

Suzana made a whining noise. "Oh, and I'm stuck here wiping windows."

"You're almost done." Rowan commented. "Once I've finished this last pot I'll help, and we can go together. Margaret, will you join us?"

"Ugh, no." The older woman scooted out from under the table and stood up, clutching at her back. "Too much violence for my liking. Nay, I'll be far happier here."

Rowan finished her pot, and set about helping Suzana with the last few panes. Despite the other girl's whining, they were done soon enough, and saying their goodbyes to Margaret for the day. In their room, they quickly changed, and Rowan fished some coins out of the bottom of her trunk, which she split with a wide-eyed Suzana.

"Oh, but this is too much!" Suzana tried to hand the money back.

"Nonsense." Rowan laughingly slapped her hand away. "I want us to enjoy ourselves, and I'll be miserable if you can't buy yourself wine nor food. Just take it!"

Suzana clutched the few pennies to her chest with a nod. "I'll pay you back -"

"Don't concern yourself with it."

Luckily for Rowan, Suzana seemed to be far more familiar with the city than she. The girl led her out of the keep and down the narrow, twisting streets which all looked the same to her companion. In contrast to the Red Keep, the residents of the lower quarters did not seem to know that a tourney was taking place. They bustled past them, going about their daily business, some loudly wondering what could have two ladies such as them in a hurry. The guards at the gate eyed them with unbridled envy - no doubt they knew people down on the tourney field, and would give their right arms to be able to watch them.

The noise from the field grew with every step, until the colorful tents and pavilions came into sight, at which point the shouting from onlookers seemed a palpable force. Suzana grabbed Rowan's hand and led her hurriedly through the maze of makeshift buildings, only stopping briefly for them both to buy some wine. Rowan ordered a bag of roasted nuts as well, the aroma wafting mockingly up to her as they sought somewhere to watch the events. Some of the castle staff sat on the dirt around the king's pavilion, and Suzana led her there, waving to two more girls their age as they nudged their way up to them. The people around them grudgingly moved aside, and Rowan was finally able to sit. She hadn't even time to look at her food before the others began to shout; looking toward the field, she saw that Ser Meryn had ridden forth on his great grey mare. Opposite him on a white stallion waited a knight in elaborate armour, bearing the mark of House Tyrell.

"Oh, why that's Ser Loras!" Rowan observed, taking him in. "He's come a long way."

"That's right!" Suzana said. "You used to work for the Tyrells, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I rarely saw Loras around much. He was usually keeping company with…"

She looked around until she spotted him. There, seated next to his brother, a wide grin plastered across his face. She nodded in his direction. "...with Renly Baratheon."

But Suzana and the others were hardly paying attention to her, for the men had taken their starting positions. At a bark from King Robert they shot off, charging down the green at one another. It was a close pass. They rounded and came again, Meryn's lance just clipping Loras on the side. The third time Loras aimed true, hitting Meryn in the center of the chest. The bigger man wheezed and slipped from his saddle. At the king's side, Lord Renly gave a delighted hoot and whistled for his friend.

Loras, as it turned out, was a fine jouster, and by the time the afternoon was done had risen to first place, much to Meryn's ire. The latter spat as the king rained praises on Loras, skulking off to drink his shame away. Rowan leaned over to Suzana.

"I thought Ser Gregor was meant to be jousting?"

"He was." Hollie, one of the other girls interjected. "The king disqualified him for stabbing Ser Loras' squire."

"Oh dear, I hope he's alright."

"He'll live, which is lucky for him."

Rowan's gaze drifted up to the Hound, who stood still as a statue behind the queen. To her surprise, she found him looking back, and turned away at once, face reddening. Surely he hadn't heard them? Another glance proved he had already turned away, and she frowned. What did he think of his brother's behavior? Did it shame him? Or did he care at all? Would he have taken a knife to the boy as well?

She thought of the crack that man's neck had made, of the Hound telling her not to worry, he would take the blame.

Not without good reason. She concluded.

The hand-to-hand proved exceedingly dull, with all of the favorites claiming victory as everyone had predicted. To Suzana's delight, Ser Jaime faced off against another young knight, utterly trouncing him in a matter of minutes. Both she had the queen gave him a standing ovation.

The last battle of the day proved the most exciting, as the Hound faced off against Ser Barristan, having already introduced Ser Boros to the ground in an insultingly short match. Sandor Clegane was big and strong and surprisingly agile, but Barristan had experience on his side. He kept the much larger man on his toes for most of the fight, until it seemed he would tire the old Dog out. Rowan could see that Clegane was being to make mistakes, and even tripped once or twice. Fortunately he was quick enough to fend off the aging knight whenever he edged closer. The two danced around each other for an age; coding, blocking and parrying until they were both panting with exhaustion. In the end, it was Barristan who made the final mistake, coming too close when it seemed like the Hound wasn't looking. His sword struck the yellow shield, and Clegane brought his sword down on his hand. Had he not been wearing gauntlets, Ser Barristan probably would have lost his fingers that day, but as things were it only caused him to release his sword, which the Hound immediately kicked away. A sharp elbow to the back sent the knight to his knees, and Clegane pressed his steel to his neck. Being the sensible man he was, Barristan yielded, and a scattered applause broke out as he shook Sandor Clegane's hand.

At the end of the day, the Hound came third, with Ser Jaime somehow achieving second, and Ser Loras winning first prize. Suzana, Hollie and Gaile somehow managed to convince a sleepy Rowan to stay awhile and enjoy the post-tourney festivities. In truth, she could not see much difference between these celebrations and the chaos she had witnessed upon entering, save that the combatants were now among them, indulging in non-financial benefits of victory. She even spotted the disqualified Gregor Clegane with a flagon in his hand and a whore on his knee, laughing along with Ser Boros.

It seemed inevitable that she would lose the others, so when it finally happened Rowan found herself uncharacteristically calm. They had probably gone for more wine, so she wandered about the tents peering about for Gaile's obnoxiously orange shawl. She was so busy looking that she walked headlong into Sandor Clegane.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, quickly steadying the hand which held his wine. "The fuck you at, woman!"

"Sorry, I…" Spotting some orange, she turned her head. No, another squire. "I seem to have lost my companions."

"Not the safest place to get lost, this." He remarked. "The men have fought and now they're looking for somewhere to dip their wicks. Even a kitchen wench like yourself would do."

He was leering at her now, having abandoned his helm the gods only knew where, she could see his expression as he himself considered her, and Rowan found herself becoming flustered. She needed to find her friends, and she needed to get through this crowd unmolested. So she put on her sweetest face and smiled up at the Hound.

"I, um...don't suppose you could help me find them?"

He glared down at her for long enough that she thought he might hit her, yet still she smiled. After a time he sighed. "Fine."

Again, she felt the heat of his hand at her back, and pressed herself right up against him as he led her through the crowds. More than a few people looked, and one or two of the soldiers seemed likely to jeer until they looked up at the Hound. Yes, this was the best way to get out safely.

He shook he flagon in front of her face. "Wine?"

She took it with thanks, filling her mouth with the rich red goodness. So much better than the watered down piss the servants got. This she could savor.

"Do you think they've gone back without me?"

"Could have."

"I don't fancy going back by myself at this hour." She said, moving further into him as a drunken squire lurched far too near for her liking. The Hound put his arm across her shoulders, heavy yet comforting.

"I'll walk you back."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you…"

His hand squeezed, thumb caressing her arm through her sleeve. He muttered something about "...my pleasure."

"Rowan! Rowan!" Suzana appeared in front of them and stopped short, shooting Sandor Clegane a scrutinizing look. He breathed a few curses to himself as he pushed Rowan toward her friend. She turned meaning to thank him, only to pause as he opened his mouth to say something. Another glance at Suzana and he growled before stalking off.

Suzana had her by the shoulders at once. "By the gods Rowan, I'm so sorry. Are you… Did he hurt you?"

She near laughed. "No, he just wanted to help me find you."

"'Just'?"

"Well, maybe not just. But nothing happened."

"And what would have happened if you couldn't find me?"

"He offered to walk me back."

"Walk you back!?" Suzana was becoming more hysterical the more she spoke, and Rowan struggled to shush her. "And what would have happened when he got you alone, eh? He had the nerve to put his hands on you in public, just imagine what he'd be like alone!"

Rowan had imagined it, and concluded that she did not quite mind what she pictured. This must have shown on her face, for Suzana let go of her at once, aghast.

"Oh but you can't be serious…. Rowan… He's the Hound!"

"I know that."

"But he's….! He's….!" The girl spluttered.

Rowan shrugged. "I don't think he's all that bad."

Suzana's mouth snapped shut. She stared at Rowan for a moment, as though weighing the truth of all she'd said. At length she simply nodded, defeated.

"Alright, alright. I'm just glad you're in one piece."