Enjoy.
xXx
( King's Landing - Red Keep )
Pycelle has never much cared for King Robert who he sees as a wretched and drunken fool, especially as the Fat Stag further bankrupts the Iron Throne with every feast and tourney he sets up.
Forty years he has spent as Grand Maester in King's Landing and so far, Robert has managed to spend more coin on feasts and tourneys in his short reign as King than Aerys II has ever spent in all his life. Before he fell to his madness, Aerys II was actually quite a good King, bringing peace and prosperity across the Seven Kingdoms. At least, he was a good King until the Defiance of Duskendale which changed Aerys for the worst.
Still, Pycelle knows that by the time Robert's Rebellion had come to an end, the Red Keep's vault had been bursting with coin. Now, the vault is completely empty and the Iron Throne is six million dragons in debt with half of it being owed to the Iron Bank. Pycelle knows that it's unwise to owe the Iron Bank of Braavos so much coin and not pay it back as soon as possible. Many Kings before who made the mistake to not honor their debt with the Iron Bank soon found themselves dead once new Kings appeared with the Iron Bank's support. As the common saying goes, the Iron Bank will have its due.
Even though they owe the Iron Bank around three million gold dragons, King Robert continues to add more coin to the Iron Throne's debt, just so he can have more feasts and tourneys and today's tourney is even bigger than the previous ones.
Today, the King has prepared a grand tourney to celebrate Lord Eddard Stark, another person Pycelle doesn't care much for, accepting the position as Hand of the King. How Littlefinger continues to find people to loan them money, Pycelle will never know and probably doesn't ever want to know.
Even if it only adds to their debts, Pycelle is delighted that the King has offered huge amounts of gold dragons to the victors of the tourney as it means that everyone will be at attendance. With all the Lords and Ladys focused on the tourney, it gives Pycelle the freedom to enjoy some of his more illicit pleasures.
Keeping up his mummery as a feeble old man, Pycelle walks through the halls of the Red Keep with a hunch, passing by the guards who haven't been assigned to keeping the peace at the tourney. Making sure that he's not being followed by anyone, Pycelle makes his way into his living quarters where his favourite whore should be waiting for him. Once he enters his quarters and locks the door, Pycelle straightens his back and sighs in relief. Keeping himself hunched for most of the day while walking around doesn't do much wonders on his back.
Throwing a quick glance around the room, the Grand Maester frowns when he doesn't see his favourite whore who he hired to entertain him. Usually, she would already be on the bed, prepared to offer herself to him. "Dancy?" he called, wondering if the whore is hiding somewhere in the room. She's often more playful than the other whores.
The Grand Maester doesn't notice a figure seemingly walk out of the shadows behind him. Even when the figure walks up behind Pycelle, the Grand Maester is unaware for the figure's footsteps are perfectly silent, even though they are wearing armour. It's only when the figure places a hand on Pycelle's right shoulder does he realize that there's someone standing right behind him.
"Dancy won't be coming."
Before Pycelle can move or open his mouth to shout for the guards, the figure hits the Grand Maester in the back of his head, forcing him into unconsciousness.
When Pycelle reawakens with a blistering headache, he finds himself stripped of his clothing and forced to stand in front of his bed with his hands tied over his head to the post of his canopy bed. Although, confused and in pain, Pycelle manages to focus his attention on the hooded man in black armour who is standing before him while twirling a blade in his right hand.
"Good to see you finally awake, Grand Maester" greeted Jon while he twirls his Nightingale Blade with the skill of a master swordsman.
"W-Who are you? G-Guards! Guards!" shouted Pycelle, hoping that any nearby guards outside his door can hear his shouts and save him. Instead, all he gets for his troubles is a backhand across the face and a loose tooth.
"No one is coming for you, Grand Maester, so I would prefer that you only open your mouth to answer my questions. Try to shout for help again and I'll cut off your withered old cock and shove it down your throat." Jon points his blade at the Grand Maester's bare crotch to prove his point. "If you understand, nod your head."
Spitting out the blood from his now burst lip, a pale and shaking Pycelle nods his head in understanding. The thought of having his cock cut off and forced down his throat is more than enough to gain his cooperation.
Jon nods his head in satisfaction and pulls his sword away from Pycelle's crotch, much to the Grand Maester's relief. "Very good. Now then, Grand Maester Pycelle, are you or are you not the one who treated Jon Arryn when he fell ill?"
Pycelle is caught off guard by the question, but he still nods his head. "I-I am."
Pycelle is even more caught off guard when Jon suddenly swings his sword and cuts the Grand Maester across the chest, deep enough to shed blood, but not deep enough that it becomes fatal. The old man cries out in pain while Jon shakes his head in disappointment.
"I don't like being lied to, Grand Maester. For every lie that comes out of your mouth, I will cut you like I just did now, understand?"
"B-But I didn't lie!" exclaimed a frightened Pycelle while fighting through the pain of having his chest cut.
Jon doesn't like Pycelle's response, for he swings his sword again and provides the Grand Maester another cut across the torso. "And yet, you do so again. I know you didn't treat Jon Arryn or at least, you didn't until you sent away Jon Arryn's own Maester who was already treating him. Tell me why you did so."
"B-Because I believed t-that I could provide b-bett-AAAAHHH!" Pycelle doesn't get to finish, since Jon cuts him on the lower right side of his torso.
"Lie. You sent away Arryn's Maester because you didn't want him to heal the Hand of his illness or rather, heal him of the poison that was flowing through his veins. Isn't that right?" asked Jon while twirling his now bloody sword.
"I-If you already k-know, t-then why are y-you asking me!?" cried Pycelle who has given up lying to his captor. He's a Maester, not a soldier, so the pain becomes unbearable to the old man.
"Because I need answers to the questions I don't know and I believe only you can answer them. For starters, did you poison Jon Arryn? Before you answer, I should warn you that anymore lies will be punished with three cuts instead of one." Jon taps Pycelle across the cheek with his sword, leaving a blotch of the Grand Master's own blood on his cheek.
Pycelle shakes his head so fast that his long grey beard nearly manages to hit him in his own face. "I didn't! I swear to the Seven that I didn't poison Jon Arryn! Y-You got to believe me!" he pleaded, babbling like a naughty child.
From under his hood and mask, Jon stares at the bawling Grand Maester for a moment before pulling away his Nightingale Blade. "I believe you."
If not for the rope keeping him standing up, Pycelle would have sunk to the floor in relief. "Thank the Gods."
"I wouldn't thank the Gods yet, Grand Maester. You may not have administered the poison yourself, but a man of your skill and experience surely would have noticed the signs of poisoning. Not only did you not attempt to treat Jon Arryn of his poisoning, but you also didn't think to inform King Robert that someone has been poisoning his Hand. You may as well have killed him yourself, but for now, I would like know why you didn't. Who knows, you might even share me the details on who is responsible for the poisoning."
Pycelle's skin gets far more paler than it usually is and it's not just because of the blood loss. "I-I don't know who killed Jon Arryn" admitted the Grand Maester.
The Dragonborn hums to himself, believing that the Grand Maester isn't lying. "He really doesn't know who killed Jon Arryn, but then why didn't he report the poisoning to either the King or the Hand himself?" There's something that Pycelle knows and he obviously doesn't want to share it with anyone.
"You say that you don't know who poisoned Jon Arryn. If so, why not report the poisoning to the King or better yet, heal the Hand yourself? Seeing as you did neither, you allowed Jon Arryn to die and I want to know why." Jon's curiosity only rises when the captive Grand Maester tries to fight against his restraints, showing a strength that Jon hasn't seen since he took him captive.
"I can't tell you! You can cut me up all you want, but I refuse to say a word!" exclaimed Pycelle who tries to pry his hands free of the ropes. The Grand Maester's struggles soon stop when Jon applies three more cuts across Pycelle's bare, but bloody chest. Pycelle's cries only get louder when Jon grabs him by his beard and roughly pulls him close enough that the Grand Maester can actually see the grey eyes under the hood and mask. Grey eyes that only a Stark would have!
"Grand Maester, you will tell me everything I want to know and until you do, I forbid you from dying." Roughly pushing the shaking Grand Maester back, Jon twirls his sword again, but more menacingly. "I shall give you the courtesy to tell me what you know before I shed any more of your blood than I already have."
Pale and shaking, Pycelle shakes his head. All he had wanted was to spend the day with a whore by his bedside, but instead, he is a captive to an unknown man in the Red Keep and being tortured for information that would have the King demand his head. "D-Do y-your w-worst."
Jon looks down in disappointment before sighing in acceptance. "Very well."
( King's Landing - Hand's Quarter's )
Ned feels no need to leave for the Hand's Tourney, even if said tourney is to celebrate his new position as Hand of the King. Not only does he not care for tourneys, especially ones that further bankrupts the Iron Throne, but he simply has too much on his mind right now to focus on such pointless matters.
From his investigation in Jon Arryn's death and with Pycelle's help, Ned discovered that his predecessor was looking over the tome 'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms'. What Jon Arryn was doing with such a book, Ned isn't sure, but if he had to guess, it might have something to do with Robert's Bastard son, Gendry, who he discovered is working as an apprentice blacksmith under Tobho Mott on the Street of Steel. The boy is the spitting image of Robert when he was younger, but Ned wonders why Jon Arryn was visiting him.
Ned is also annoyed with Ser Hugh, Jon Arryn's former squire, who didn't come to talk with him after he sent Jory for him. As Jory told him, the recently knighted squire ignored the summoning, simply because Jory wasn't a knight himself. That's just another reason why Ned doesn't much care for staying in the South, since the North doesn't bother with such frivolous titles. Most knights haven't even been on an actual battlefield and yet, they're quick to remind others about their title, just as Ser Hugh has done to Jory.
As much as it pains him, he will have to wait until the joust ends to speak with Ser Hugh about Jon Arryn's death. He'll wait a few more minutes before he heads off to the tourney.
For now, he just wants to be left alone with his thoughts, especially after the Queen visited him to discretely insult and threaten him.
"Iron Throne is bankrupt, the City Guard struggles to keep the peace, spies are watching me in every corner and I am no closer to finding out the truth to Jon Arryn's death" thought Ned who rubs his forehead to help ease his growing headache. "What's worst, I hear the thieves in the city have organized themselves, calling themselves the Thieves Guild." That had been surprising to hear, since Ned never suspected thieves of all people to be able to work together. What's even more surprising is that the City Guard has yet to find the hideout of this supposed guild of thieves.
Each day that passes, Ned is further regretting his decision of accepting Robert's proposal of becoming his Hand.
Unfortunately, Ned isn't given much time to be left with his thoughts as his Captain of the Guards, Jory Cassel, storms into the room. "Lord Stark! Apologies for the interruption, but you must come with me at once."
Ned is curious over what has made Jory so restless. "Jory, what's wrong?"
"It's the Grand Maester, my Lord. He has been murdered."
"WHAT?!"
( King's Landing - Thieves Guild Headquarters )
Jon Snow enters the headquarters of the Thieves Guild and is still reeling from what Pycelle told him. He was hoping to find out the identity of Jon Arryn's killer, but instead, he has been told a secret that if revealed to the public, would see a lot of people executed. So distracted with his thoughts that he fails to see Vex who is leaning against the wall beside the doorway.
"So did you find out anything from Pycelle?" asked Vex, but she makes out that the Dragonborn is distracted by something "Jon? You in there?"
Jon shakes himself out of his assorted thoughts and turns to Vex. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?"
"I asked if you found out anything from Pycelle, but seeing as how you nearly walked past me, I'm guessing you found something interesting?" she said in a knowing manner while quirking a brow in interest.
"More than I expected. Gather the others and we'll discuss what I learned in your quarters" told Jon before he walks away, leaving behind a curious Vex.
It isn't long until everyone is gathered in Vex's quarters and they all look towards Jon, wondering what he discovered from the Grand Maester.
"So are you going to tell us what you found out from Pycelle or are you going to leave us all in suspense?" asked Vex who leans against the table.
Jon thinks about what he wants to say. "As you said, Pycelle knew about the poison in Jon Arryn's body, but he wasn't the one who poisoned him."
"And how are you sure of that?" asked Serana from beside him. "He could have been lying."
"He was naked, tied up and getting cut up for every lie he told me. The old man knew it wasn't in his best interest to lie to me any longer" told Jon, having been quite thorough in forcing the Grand Maester to spill all of his secrets. It took a bit more convincing for Pycelle to reveal his biggest and most dangerous secret which had honestly shocked Jon down to his core. It's no wonder Pycelle tried to take the secret to his grave.
A coy smile grows on Aela's lips. "Oh~, kinky. I didn't know you liked your old men tied up."
"Farkas, please hit Aela in the back of the head for me" asked Jon who chuckles when Farkas raises a hand to do so, only for Aela to point a warning finger at her fellow Companion. "Anyway, Pycelle isn't the one who poisoned the Hand, nor does he know who actually did it, but since the Grand Maester did nothing to save Jon Arryn from the poison, that makes him as guilty as the actual murderer."
"I take it Pycelle is no longer among the living then" asked Teldryn, already knowing the answer before Jon nods his head in confirmation. Jon did say he wants any threat to the Starks to be eliminated and Pycelle sounded like a possible threat. It was best to end him sooner rather than later.
"Wait, so if Pycelle didn't poison the Hand and he wasn't in league with the actual poisoner, than why did he allow Lord Arryn to die?" asked Aela, wondering why the now deceased Grand Maester allowed the Hand of the King to be murdered.
"Because Jon Arryn had discovered a secret that Pycelle wanted to be kept hidden" revealed Jon, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach as he thinks about what the secret is.
"Ooh~, and what secret is that?" asked J'zargo who is wondering what kind of secret is big enough to warrant the death of the Hand. The Khajiit has always been a sucker for gossip in the College of Winterhold and he still is to this day.
"The secret of how none of Robert Baratheon's children are of his own blood. They are actually the Bastard children of the Queen, Cersei Lannister and her brother, Jamie Lannister" answered Jon, revealing a secret that could see all of the Seven Kingdoms fall into war.
For a moment, everyone is quiet as they try to process the information Jon just told them. The silence is then ruined by Farkas who leans a hand on the table and takes on a sickly green colour. "I think I'm going to get sick."
"I can see why you left this shithole of a continent" stated Serana who groans in disgust. It's not the first time she has heard of brothers and sisters fucking each other, but for the Queen to do it with her brother and to give birth to three of their children while pretending that they are the King's? That's all kinds of messed up.
Vex stares at Jon in disbelief before she looks down at the table. "If Jon Arryn truly did discover the truth, then it's likely that the Lannisters were the ones to assassinate him, specifically Cersei and Jamie"
"Not Tywin?" asked Aela who turns to the thief.
"Not even Tywin Lannister would support his children fucking each other and birthing Bastard children. The man cares for the legacy of his House. If he ever discovered the truth of what his children has been up to, he would disown them both" answered Vex, having a good idea on what Tywin would do. She looks over at Jon from the other side of the table. "So what do we do now?"
"For now, we keep watch over the Starks. Pycelle was also kind enough to tell me that the new Hand of the King has been following his predecessor's investigation. Which means Ned Stark will likely discover the truth himself, making him the next target for the Lannisters" answered Jon, narrowing his eyes dangerously at the thought of the Lions making an attempt to harm his father or siblings.
Any attempt to do so will lead to Jon doing to the Lannisters what he did to the Aldmeri Dominion during the Dragonborn's Wrath.
"I guess with the Grand Maester killed, that means the tourney is going to end up canceled" remarked a disappointed Aela who had been hoping to enter the archery tournament so she can compare her skills against Westerosi archers. However, with the Grand Maester soon to be found dead in his quarters inside the Red Keep, the King and Small Council will likely cancel the competition for safety precautions.
"Ha! If I know the King like I think I do, he'll simply wave off Pycelle's murder and continue on with the tourney" laughed Vex, waving off Aela's disappointment.
"You can't be serious" asked Serana in disbelief. "A member of his Small Council is murdered within the walls of the Red Keep and the King is just going to ignore it?"
"Not ignore it, just assign someone else to investigate it. Unless it involves fighting, drinking or whores, Robert Baratheon doesn't much care for it" Vex answered while pushing herself off the table. "So then, if that will be all, I'll head off. I've got a Thieves Guild to run and shit to steal." Without bothering to wait for someone to reply, Vex leaves the room so she can run the Guild.
"Gotta say, two days in King's Landing and we've already discovered an incestious conspiracy that could spark a war across the entire continent. And here I was thinking this would a boring trip" chuckled Teldryn who moves to leave the room. "If you want me, I'll be at the tourney, fighting in the melee."
"I'm coming as well" said Farkas who follows after the Dunmer. "Someone has to be there to give you some sort of challenge."
Aela turns to Jon and nods her head. "I'll be leaving for the tourney as well. I'm looking forward to challenging myself against your Westerosi archers." The Companion soon leaves, with J'zargo having silently left already so he can study his scrolls in the privacy of his quarters.
Now alone with Serana, Jon turns around so he can lean his back against the table. "Surprising turn of events, isn't it?" he asked Serana.
Serana looks disgusted. "You mean disgusting turn of events. The Queen is actually fucking her brother?"
"Aye. Pycelle was intending to take that secret with him to the grave, but I got it out of him in the end. For someone who's suppose to be loyal to the King, he was strangely very loyal to House Lannister" stated Jon who is actually somewhat bewildered by that revelation.
"Strange as in how?" asked Serana who still isn't exactly sure of the kind of politics that goes on in Westeros. In the Volkihar Clan, there was no scheming or trickery to gain power, no matter what Vingalmo and Orthjolf thought they were doing. They simply obeyed her father or they died.
"Strange as in, he has made no prior dealings with the Lannisters, has not been bribed nor threatened by them and if what he said is correct, nobody in House Lannister were actually aware of the old man's true loyalty to their House."
"Not that it matters now" remarked a smirking Serana. If kept alive, Pycelle could have become a problem for them so it was best to have him killed.
Jon smirks as well. "True. Dead men hold no loyalty."
"So what are you going to do now?"
"Now? I'm going to shadow the Starks. Lord Stark is investigating Jon Arryn's assassination and is close to discovering the truth of the Queen's children. When that happens, the Lannisters will attempt to silence him, any way they can."
"While you do that, I can keep watch over the girls."
Jon smiles at the mention of Lucia and Sofie. "And how are they handling everything?"
"Other than being put off by living underground, they are not doing too bad. Whenever they aren't playing with Cotton, they're playing with some of the other children who live down here. Lightens up the place to be honest" answered Serana, finding the excitement of the children to be refreshing.
"At least they're having fun, for now anyway. I don't know how long that will last."
( King's Landing - Hand's Tourney )
Ned isn't sure what he finds more disturbing.
How Jon Arryn's former squire and Ned's main suspect to his investigation into Jon's death has been coincidentally killed in his joust against the Mountain, or how quickly Pycelle's murder has been swept aside by everyone else.
Sure, everyone had been shocked to discover the Grand Maester's naked corpse tied to the bed post with numerous cuts across his torso and his neck sliced open, but nobody seemed overly concerned that an assassin managed to sneak their way into the Red Keep and killed the Grand Maester before disappearing without a trace. The only one who actually looked somewhat disturbed was Vary's, but Ned guesses that it's only because none of the Eunuch's birds saw any signs of the assassin.
As much as Ned wants to continue with his investigation into Jon Arryn's death, he doesn't feel safe in the Red Keep anymore, which is why he is now sitting in the stands of the tourney with Sansa and Septa Mordane. The second reason is so he can hopefully heal the damage that has been done to his relationship with his eldest daughter after he was ordered by the King to kill Sansa's direwolf, Lady, during the incident with Joffrey by the Inn at the Crossroads. He had been hoping to spend some time with Arya as well, but is displeased to learn that she is skipping out on the tourney so she can practice her Water Dancing in the Red Keep, but he isn't overly worried about her safety, for he has had Jory assign two of his best swords to watch over her. She also has her mentor, Syrio Forel, who he had hired to teach her how to fight with a sword. Ned is confident that two of his best men, as well as the former First Sword of Braavos, can protect his youngest daughter from any possible assassin.
Near the end of the jousting competition, Ned soon finds that he has been naive in thinking that the tourney would be a safe place for Sansa and himself.
Competing in the semi-finals are Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Gregor Clegane and Sandor Clegane, much to Ned's ire at seeing the likes of Gregor and Jaime possibly winning the joust and the large purse of coin. Thankfully, in the match between Sandor and Jaime, it's the Hound who comes out victorious and not the Kingslayer.
In the next match, Ned is further relieved when he sees Loras Tyrell defeat the Mountain, although he can tell that something didn't seem right with the win.
Lord Baelish who is sitting behind Ned and his daughter explains to them how Loras had been riding a mare in heat which distracted Gregor's stallion. While Sansa denies that a knight like Loras would do such a dishonorable act, Ned is more inclined to believe Littlefinger. Some men are more than willing to forsake their honour to add some coin to their purse. While Ned usually isn't one to encourage someone to act dishonorably, he is willing to look the other way this one time, since the one who lost is the same monster who slaughtered Elia and her children.
Speaking of the loser, Ser Gregor Clegane shouts at his squire to bring him his sword. Once the squire comes running with Gregor's massive greatsword, the Mountain pulls his blade out of its sheath and with one powerful swing, cuts off the head of his own horse, much to the shock and horror of everyone watching. The Mountain soon turns his rage on the man who bested him and so, he swings his greatsword at Ser Loras who only survives because he manages to raise his shield to block the blow, although the strength in the Mountain's swing is more than enough to throw the Knight of Flowers off of his horse.
The Mountain would have finished the downed knight, if not for the Hound running to the Knight of Flowers rescue. Both the Hound and Mountain swing their respective greatswords at each other, showing off their skill and strength to everyone watching. Before any blood can be shed, Robert commands them both to stop. Immediately, Sandor Clegane forgets about his fight with his brother and drops down to one knee for the King, having just barely missed having his head cut off by the Mountain's swinging blade.
Instead of dropping down to one knee like his younger brother, Ser Gregor Clegane throws his sword down to the ground in a fit of rage and leaves the tourney, but not before throwing King Robert a dirty look. Afterwards, a very grateful Ser Loras Tyrell yields his match to the Hound, making Sandor the victor of the joust and now forty thousand gold dragons richer.
Ned begins to wonder if he should have Septa Mordane escort Sansa back to the Red Keep if such incidents keep occurring throughout the tourney. In just one of the three competitions, Ser Hugh of the Vale is killed in his joust with the Mountain and Ser Loras Tyrell nearly lost his own life to him as well. "Gregor Clegane should have been executed all those years ago" he thought, seeing the Mountain as nothing more than a monster in the shape of a man.
As Ned Stark ponders on the safety of the tourney, Aela, Farkas and Teldryn can be found among the commonfolk, having witnessed the events take place at the end of the jousting competition.
"Someone's easy to get riled up" chuckled Farkas who watches the Mountain walk off. Reminds him of a child who didn't get their way and throws a fit, except the child is the size of a small giant and can cut a horse's head off with one swing of his sword.
"I hope he takes part in the melee. For such a big guy, he seemed pretty good with that blade of his" said Teldryn who had been paying close attention to the fight between the two brothers. Compared to regular men, the Cleganes are giants who appear to have the strength of ten men in one body. To many, the fight between the two brothers might have appeared even, but the experienced sellsword can tell that the Mountain is the better of the two. Sandor may come off as more skilled, but Gregor is simply too fast and strong for that to matter. If the fight had gone on any longer, Teldryn can predict that it would have ended with the Hound's defeat and possible death.
"Fucking savage" spat Aela, glaring at the back of the Mountain. She cares not for those who dishonour themselves by attempting to kill the person who bested them in a fair match, especially when the victor has their back turned.
"The archery competition begins in an hour so you better go prepare for it, Aela." told Farkas, looking at his fellow Companion who calms down once she remembers that the archery competition will be starting soon.
"I've already signed up. It's about time these Westerosi get to see a real archer on the field" grinned Aela, feeling the Wolfsblood in her flow in excitement.
xXx
It takes an hour for the servants to prepare the field for the archery competition and nearly another hour for the fifty competitors to drop down to four.
For Ned Stark who is watching alongside Sansa and Septa Mordane, each of the four remaining competitors have all proven their skill with a bow and arrow. Ser Balon Swann, Prince Jalabhar Xho and Anguy are quite exceptional archers in their own right, but it's obvious as plain as day that the fourth remaining competitor is leagues above them all in skill. The competitor being a woman is even more impressive and by her appearance, he believes her to be a woman of the North. Perhaps she's a warrior from Bear Island?
Aela is a beautiful young woman who looks to be two or three years older than his eldest son, Robb. Ned wouldn't be surprised if men were constantly asking for her hand in marriage, although she doesn't come off as a woman who would play the dutiful wife while her husband fights in a war. In fact, she more than likely would rather be fighting alongside her husband in the battlefield, especially if she's from the North like he believes her to be. For some reason, she has war paint on her face which Ned finds odd since paint is usually only worn for battle in the North, but she seems to like wearing it similar to how Sansa likes to wear a fancy dress. Other than the war paint, what convinces Ned that she's from the North is her garb which is armour that appears to be made up of a mix of fur, leather and steel. Armour that not only helps protect the wearer, but also keeps them warm at the same time, something which the Warden of the North has only seen worn on his own men and women. Ned also finds himself curious over who crafted the woman's bow, since the workmanship of the weapon is quite remarkable, even from a distance.
Ned is actually disappointed that his youngest daughter isn't with them to see Aela compete in the archery competition. He knows Arya would look up to a strong woman like Aela.
While Ned is quite impressed with Aela's skill as an archer, Septa Mordane has a different opinion. "How unsightly. A woman shouldn't be wielding a weapon, especially to do so in front of the royal family" said the Septa in disgust while looking down on Aela, even as the Companion knocks out Ser Balon after another round.
Sansa follows after the Septa and looks down at Aela who looks to be having fun. "I agree. What kind of lady dares to act like such a savage?"
"I pray to the Old Gods that Sansa never meets Maege or her daughters" thought Ned, knowing that Sansa might find herself in trouble if she were to speak in such a manner to Lady Mormont and her daughters. Other than Dorne, the North is the only other region which allows and encourages women to fight alongside men in battle. The women from Bear Island are especially notorious for their skills in fighting, as many men have fallen to Maege's spiked mace.
Now standing at a hundred paces from the target, Aela pulls the string of her Bow of the Hunt and let's it go, watching as her arrow hits the target, dead centre. Prince Jalabhar takes his own turn and hits the target as well, but the arrow hits a bit to the left. To Aela's surprise, Anguy manages to hit the dead centre of his own target as well, meaning that Prince Jalabhar is now eliminated.
From the Prince's glare, Aela can tell he isn't pleased with losing to her, likely due to her being a woman. In response, she offers the Prince a cheeky wink and is more than satisfied when he walks off in a huff, much like how the Mountain did earlier, but with less bloodshed.
To Aela's further surprise and enjoyment, Anguy manages to keep up with her in the archery competition for another couple of rounds. It's only when the target is pushed back to one hundred and fifty paces does Anguy's aim falter, granting Aela victory after her arrow hits the dead centre of the target. The instant Aela's arrow hits the target, the crowds cheer with quite a few men whistling. The loudest so happens to be the King himself who like many others, have fallen prey to Aela's beauty.
While disappointed, Anguy walks over to the Companion and offers a handshake. "Congratulations, my lady. Many may claim it to be shameful of me to lose to a woman, but I honestly can't find it in myself to give a shit. You best us all, fairly."
Grinning, Aela accepts Anguy's handshake, making the commoner wince from the strength of the Companion's grip. "You've proven yourself as a skilled archer, Anguy. I hope that you continue training your skills and perhaps someday, we can compete against each other once more."
Anguy smiles at the thought and nods. "I would like that very much, my Lady."
Aela laughs and punches Anguy in the shoulder. "Stop with that Lady shit. Do I look like a Lady to you?" she asked, making Anguy laugh alongside her, although he rubs his now sore shoulder. The sportsmanship between the two only makes the commonfolk cheer even more so.
From the stands, Ned is one of the many people who stands and claps to congratulate Aela's victory, feeling a bit of Northern pride in himself after witnessing a woman from the North beat fifty men in the archery competition. Unlike himself, Sansa and Septa Mordane refuse to clap for Aela as they prefer to look down their noses at the woman.
However, none are clapping any louder than the King himself who has even gotten off his throne to congratulate her victory. "Now that's how you fucking do it! Nearly fifty men compete and a beaut of a woman beats them all! Hahahaha" laughed Robert, finding great amusement over how Aela defeated so many men of various skills, including one of his own Kingsguard. Aela being such a great beauty is also another reason for him to cheer her on as more than once has his eyes took a gander towards her breasts and exposed thighs.
After waving at the crowd and bowing to the King, Aela collects her prize of ten thousand dragons which she gets a receipt for and soon joins the crowd to watch the upcoming melee tournament. She would have joined in on the melee, but didn't want to draw too much attention on herself. Winning a single competition is one thing, but for a stranger to win two? That would just put a lot of attention on herself and until the Lannisters make their move on the Starks, the group can't afford to have that kind of attention on themselves. Instead, she'll have to stand back and watch how Farkas and Teldryn do against Westerosi fighters.
Not long after Aela's victory, the targets are taken down by the servants and the grounds is soon set up into an arena for the melee competition. Once the arena is set up and ready, all the competitors enter with their respective weapons on hand. Entering the arena with the other forty competitors are Teldryn and Farkas who brandish their own weapons, drawing more than one curious eye.
Some are quick to assume that Farkas's greatsword is made of Valyrian Steel, due to how perfectly crafted it is, but those with sharp eyes notice a lack of ripples on the large blade, meaning that it isn't made of Valyrian Steel. None would know that the blade was actually forged by the master blacksmith, Eorlund Grey-Mane, on the Skyforge.
While only those with sharp eyes notice the master craftsmanship of Farkas's Skyforge Steel Greatsword, others are paying attention to the blade in Teldryn's hand which they all see is a broad double-edged sword that has a small crossguard in the shape of wings and has metal stripes on the sides. While it isn't a master crafted sword like Farkas's own, the design of Teldryn's blade is enough to catch the eyes of quite a few people in the crowd, seeing as how no one who is watching has ever seen an Elven Sword before.
"Has anyone caught your eye?" Teldryn asked the Companion while scouting out the rest of the competitors for anyone who might be a challenge. A few have caught his eye, though he mostly ignores the ugly men who wear the sigil of two blue towers connected by a bridge. Seeing as how he can't use his magic, he'll have to focus on his swordsmanship skills only, not that it should be any bit difficult. After all, he is the best swordsman in all of Morrowind for a reason and he didn't earn that title by focusing on his magical skills.
"Oh, I've got my eye on someone" answered Farkas, having spotted the Hound on the other side of the arena who is glaring at anyone standing near him. The Companion is somewhat disappointed to see that the eldest Clegane brother isn't participating in the melee, since he wanted to compare his own strength against the Mountain's. Instead, he'll have to do with the Mountain's younger brother, but who knows, the Hound might just give him the challenge he has been looking for. Seeing as the Hound is on the other side of the arena, he'll have to push aside anyone who tries to get in his way.
As the excitement for the melee begins to rise among the populace, a figure in black is hidden among the shadows of the tourney stands, watching as the competitors prepare to fight each other for both glory and a hefty prize of twenty thousand dragons.
Jon Snow watches the melee from his hiding spot by the tourney stands. With him being an expert thief and a Nightingale, he is practically invisible to the human eye when hiding in the shadows, especially when adorned in his Nightingale Armour. Jon can't help himself but chuckle when he sees Farkas and Teldryn attack the nearest competitors once the King announces the start of the melee. The two competitors didn't even have time to raise their weapons to try and defend themselves, due to the Companion and sellsword knocking them to the ground faster than they can react. Once the two fallen competitors yield, the Nord and Dunmer quickly move on to the next of unfortunate competitors.
As the melee competitors begin fighting each other, Jon's attention is drawn to the Hand of the King and he finds himself conflicted at seeing his father, even from a distance. On one hand, he wishes to go and hug the man who raised him, having missed him all these years apart. On the other, Jon wants to keep his distance from him, knowing that he has only caused his father problems, even before he ran away to Tamriel.
To distract himself from his conflicting feelings, Jon turns his attention back to the melee, just in time to see Farkas knock down two Freys with a single swing of his greatsword. The two Freys are quick to yield, having become terrified over Farkas's inhuman strength.
What's amusing is how Farkas is obviously having fun fighting in the melee. "Come at me and show me your warrior spirit!" bellowed the Companion before Lord Yohn Royce steps forward with a mace on hand.
"Can I get the name of the man who I'm going to defeat?" asked Lord Royce, twirling his mace with ease.
Farkas laughs and slams a fist into his steel-covered chest. "You may call me Farkas. What can I call you, other than my next victim?"
Lord Royce grins and bends his knees down to prepare. "Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone."
"I hope you don't expect me to yield to you, just because you're some high and mighty Lord" asked Farkas, pointing his Skyforge Steel Greatsword at the Lord with one hand, impressing many that he can wield such a large blade as easily as the Hound and Mountain.
"I would be disappointed if you did" answered Lord Royce who suddenly charges at the Companion and begins swinging his mace like an expert.
Farkas takes a few steps back while parrying each of Lord Royce's blows with his greatsword. Not one who stays on the defensive for long, Farkas blocks an overhead swing from Royce's mace before he shoves him back.
Even though he is as large as Farkas and is adorned in a set of bronze armour, Yohn Royce is completely overwhelmed by the Companion's physical strength and is thrown back. Being as experienced as he is, Lord Royce rolls backwards once his back hits the floor and gets back to his feet in time to duck under Farkas's next swing. It also provides the Lord of Runestone and opening which he takes advantage of and so, he swings his mace into Farkas chest and is satisfied when he hears the sound of metal hitting metal.
Yohn's satisfaction doesn't last long once he notices that Farkas isn't collapsing like anyone else would. Taking a few steps back to gain some distance, Yohn is shocked to not only see Farkas standing, but also how he doesn't even look like he's in pain, even when some of his ribs should have at least cracked from his attack. "By the Seven..." gasped Yohn in shock.
Farkas points his sword at Lord Royce, ignoring the throbbing pain in his chest. "Don't bring your gods into this. They aren't the ones fighting." Farkas grips his greatsword's hilt with both hands and grins. "It's just you and me."
"So this is what it's like to fight the Mountain" thought Yohn who can't help himself but grin as well. A blow like the one he dealt to Farkas's chest would have taken most men out of the fight, no matter if they're wearing steel plates or not, but Farkas obviously isn't like most men. He's more like the Clegane brothers, monsters in human form. "True. Then how about we give the gods a show?"
Farkas chuckles. "Oh, I like you." Faster than Yohn would expect from someone like Farkas, the Companion swings his greatsword which Lord Royce manages to lean back to avoid, although Farkas's greatsword does manage to make a scratch along his bronze armour. Yohn tries to press the attack, but unlike before, Farkas doesn't give him the opportunity so all he can do is dodge or parry Farkas's attack, all the while, looking for another opening where he can actually do some lasting damage.
Unfortunately, it never happens once Farkas does a full spin to add momentum to his next swing. The Companion already had fast and powerful swings, but the spin only makes his next attack much faster and stronger. Which is why when Lord Royce attempted to parry the swing, he instead found his mace flying out of his hand and out of the arena, barely missing the head of a spectating commoner. Just when the revelation that his weapon had been launched out of the arena is starting to sink in, Yohn finds Farkas's very sharp blade to his throat.
"Do you yield, Lord Royce?" asked Farkas.
With no other choice, seeing as his weapon is now long gone, Yohn Royce nods in acceptance. "Aye, I yield" he said, although not any bit disappointed with his loss. Farkas is simply a far better fighter than he is, as well as a lot stronger. He's actually lucky that he didn't lose any of his fingers when he lost his weapon.
Farkas nods, accepting Yohn's surrender before he takes away his blade from the Lord's throat. "For a Lord, you don't fight too bad."
Yohn can tell from his appearance that Farkas must be a warrior from the North and from his large size and incredible strength, he guesses him to be an Umber, perhaps a cousin? The Lord of Runestone remembers meeting Greatjon Umber during Robert's Rebellion and he was just as big as Farkas, if not more so. "And you don't fight too bad for a savage yourself" he jested.
Farkas chuckles and pats Lord Royce on his shoulder. "Well met, but you'll have to excuse me. I have a melee to win" said the Companion before he moves on to the next competitor, leaving a defeated, but impressed Yohn Royce to stare at his back.
Farkas isn't the only one who's catching the peoples attention as Teldryn can be seen having a good time while fighting in the melee, as shown when he fights two men at the exact same time. Where's Farkas has the advantage in strength, Teldryn's advantage is his speed, being more than fast enough to fight the two men at the same time and forcing them on the defensive. It isn't long until Teldryn knocks aside both of their weapons, causing the two to yield unless they want to end up more hurt than they already are.
Teldryn isn't given much time to savour his victory, because he feels an intense heat from behind him. Spinning around and keeping his sword out in front of him, Teldryn spots a tall, fat man in red robes, wielding a flaming sword of all things. "Never seen a man wield a sword on fire before" stated the Dunmer in complete honesty. Swords with fire enchantments can cause burns when they cut someone, but they don't actually set the weapon on fire.
The fat man laughs. "And I have never seen armour like yours before. What in the actual fuck are you wearing?" asked the red-haired man, looking Teldryn up and down, noting that the armour nearly looks like it's made out of some sort of giant bug.
Teldryn begins circling the fat man, making sure to keep up his guard when doing so. More than half of the competitors have been eliminated so only the ones with any actual skill are what remains. "Beat me and I might just tell you."
"Pay for my first drink and you're on" remarked the man. "Today, you face Thoros of Myr."
"Today, you lose against Teldryn Sero of Morrowind" answered Teldryn who runs at the Red Priest and swings down his blade, only for Thoros to block it with his flaming sword. Thoros than kicks Teldryn in the chest, making the Dark Elf stagger back, but not fall. With a loud battle cry, Thoros starts swinging his flaming sword at Teldryn who desperately begins parrying every attack. He doesn't exactly like the idea of having a flaming sword too close to himself.
While it might look like Thoros is simply swinging like a mad man, Teldryn can tell that the red-haired man is actually quite skilled. However, Teldryn isn't the best swordsman of Morrowind for nothing and so, after he parries another one of Thoros's attacks, the sellsword headbutts the Red Priest in the face. Thoros may have a thick skull and is somewhat drunk, but he can't help but reel back from having his face hit by Teldryn's Chitin Helmet.
"Motherfucker!" cursed Thoros who holds his head with one hand to somewhat ease his headache. The pain doesn't stop the groggy Red Priest from swinging his sword wildly in front of himself so to make sure his opponent is kept back.
Teldryn sees a no better opportunity to attack, now that his opponent his hurt and panicking. The Dunmer quickly steps into Thoros's personal space while blocking his sword with his own. While the heat is quick to make the Dark Elf uncomfortable, he is now close enough to Thoros to give him another headbutt and this time, he puts a bit more power into the blow.
The sound of Thoros's nose being broken can be heard by nearly everyone in the tourney and all watch as the Red Priest collapses onto his back with an even worse headache and now a broken nose. Thoros groans from the floor and he even drops his flaming sword which soon quenches after Teldryn kicks some dirt over it.
With his opponent down and his sword no longer aflame, Teldryn aims his Elven Sword at the downed Red Priest. "Do you yield, Thoros of Myr?" he asked, although all he gets for an answer are pained and confused groans. "I'll take that as a yes" said the Dunmer before he moves along to face other competitors.
From his hiding spot near the tourney stands, Jon watches as Farkas and Teldryn defeat knights and Lords, one after another. Watching them have so much fun in the melee is actually starting to make him feel jealous, wanting nothing more than to be out there and fighting alongside them, but he has a duty to protect the Starks and he can't exactly do that by showcasing himself in front of everyone in the tourney. Questions would be asked and noses will end up where they don't belong. He doubts that the secrecy will last long, especially with war erupting between the Lions and Wolves. Due to Catelyn Stark's stupidity of arresting Tyrion Lannister for the crime of attempted murder on Bran with no evidence to go on, war between the Starks and Lannisters will be fast approaching. Vex's spies have already informed him that Tywin Lannister is gathering his army, even as everyone else sits around and watches a tourney in ignorance.
Jon would have brooded more, if not for a sudden spike in cheering from the commonfolk making him focus his attention back onto the melee. With so little competitors left on the field, Jon can easily see the source of the commonfolks sudden burst of excitement. A certain pair of competitors have found each other in the arena and are now fighting against each other, much to the excitement of many who are watching, especially King Robert.
The sound of metal hitting metal echoes across the tourney with every block and swing that is initiated by Sandor Clegane and Farkas. After Farkas parries another one of Sandor's powerful swings, the pair then clash their blades together, managing to create a brief burst of sparks by the manner that their blades scrape against each other.
"Ha! You are as good as I believed you to be!" exclaimed Farkas, feeling his blood pumping now that he is fighting a real opponent. Yohn Royce and some others were good, but none were like the man he is fighting now. Sandor Clegane isn't someone who squanders his time in a keep, playing politics. No, he is a warrior who has spent nearly all his life with a sword in his hand. A warrior who is both strong and fast, as well as skilled.
"He could prove to be a fine Companion" thought Farkas, unintentionally annoying Sandor because of his smirk.
"Quit your smirking you cocky shit" growled Sandor who grunts while trying to push back his opponent, only to find himself struggling to do so. Being as big as him, it's obvious that Farkas is also just as strong so trying to push him back won't help. "If that won't work, than I'll just have to do this."
To Farkas's surprise, the Hound stops pushing and instead, steps back, making the Companion lose all of his leverage. This causes the Companion to stumble forward, although he manages to catch himself from falling, but it does make it impossible for him to block Sandor's next swing. While he can't block Sandor's next attack, Farkas attempts to avoid it by leaning his head back as far at possible. It works, since instead of taking off the top of his head, it just cuts into his left cheek, but it causes the Nord to fall to one knee.
Sandor lifts his greatsword over his head and brings it down on Farkas who quickly lifts up his own greatsword with both hands to stop Sandor's attack. Many who are watching nearly expect Farkas's blade to snap in half from being hit down the middle by the Hound, but to their shock, it isn't Farkas's greatsword that breaks, but the Hound's.
With wide eyes, Sandor watches as the upper half of his greatsword breaks and flies into the air before stabbing itself into the ground. Realizing that he made the mistake in being distracted while in a fight, Sandor looks down, only to see Farkas's fist which hits him across the jaw. Sandor feels his feet leave the ground before he ends up on his back and his opponent standing on his chest with his sword to his own scarred face.
"Yield?" asked Farkas, ignoring the blood dripping off his cheek from the cut the Hound gave him.
"Aye, I yield, now get the fuck off me" growled the Hound who pushes himself up to his feet once Farkas gets off of him.
"You fought well, Clegane. If not for my better sword, you would hav-" Sandor interrupts the Companion before he can continue.
"Fuck off. I don't give a shit how it happened. I lost, you won. That's that" grunted the Hound who walks off while not caring to pick up the broken pieces of his sword.
Others might have been put off by Sandor's words, but not Farkas. The Nord actually laughs to himself, finding the Hound to be quite impressive indeed, especially after he managed to cut him."You'll make a fine Companion, Sandor Clegane."
Once Sandor has left the arena, Farkas looks around for other competitors, only to see that he and Teldryn are the last ones remaining. The Dunmer is already eying the Nord from under his Chitin Helmet.
"I'm surprised, I didn't expect for you to be the last man I defeat today" jested a panting Teldryn as he circles Farkas who does the same. Fighting for nearly two hours is enough to tire anyone out, even a skilled sellsword like Teldryn Sero.
A sweaty and somewhat bloody Farkas chuckles as he holds his Skyforge Steel Greatsword out in front of him. While most of the competitors had been nothing special, Yohn Royce and the Hound had proven to be exceptionally skilled warriors with the Hound nearly besting him in the end. "Don't get cocky, Sero. It'll be your downfall."
Teldryn responds by suddenly charging at the Companion and swinging at his legs, only for the Companion to block it with his greatsword. The Dunmer tries for another swing, but leans back just enough to avoid Farkas's greatsword which nearly takes off his head. Teldryn then thrusts his sword towards Farkas's face, only for the Nord to parry it. The pair then struggle to push their swords against one another and it soon becomes obvious that Farkas is going to overpower the sellsword. That's until Teldryn decides to do what he did in his fight against Thoros. Teldryn reels his head back and headbutts Farkas in the face, using the fact that he's wearing a helmet to his advantage. The sound of breaking cartilage seems to echo across the arena as the Companion throws his head back from the blow. This gives Teldryn the advantage to swipe his sword at Farkas's hand, cutting it and forcing him to drop his greatsword. That's all before he raises his sword to Farkas's neck.
"Yield?" asked Teldryn, pressing the blade to the Nord's throat, just enough so he can spill some blood.
With his weapon out of reach and a blade to his throat, Farkas has no other choice but to yield the match, no matter how much it hurts his pride. "Yea, yea, I yield" grumbled the Companion.
With Teldryn as the last competitor, the tourney erupts into cheers. Even many of the watching Lords and knights who have been impressed with Teldryn and Farkas's swordsmanship skill stand to clap to show their appreciation. Some Lords are already making plans to ask the two to join their Houses, including Ned Stark.
Even King Robert has risen to his feet to loudly clap. "That was some of the best fucking fighting I've seen in a long time!" cheered Robert while Farkas and Teldryn turn to the clapping King. "What's the name of our new melee champion?" he asked, looking down at the disguised Dunmer.
"Teldryn of Morrowind, your grace" answered Teldryn with a bow, knowing that the last thing he would want is to insult the King.
"Well, Teldryn of Morrowind, why not take off your helm and show us all the face of a champion?!" asked Robert, although Teldryn is quick to shake his head.
"Apologies, but I would rather not. A hideous scar lays on my face and I would rather keep it hidden for all of our sakes" answered the Dark Elf, using the lie to keep his appearance hidden.
While disappointed, Robert isn't someone to force a person to show their scars which are probably as ugly as he suspects them to be. "A shame. I guess not everyone can be proud of their ugliness like Sandor" laughed the King. "Give the man his winnings and let's head off. The food won't get in my gut if we're all fucking about out here."
Teldryn is more than happy to take his receipt for the twenty thousand Gold Dragons before making his leave with Farkas and Aela, all the while, making sure to look out for anyone who might be following them. After taking a few turns through the streets of King's Landing, they quickly notice someone who looks to be a squire, who is somewhat discretely following them.
"What are we going to do about him?" asked Farkas, referring to the squire who is stubbornly following them. They can't exactly return to the Thieves Guild headquarters with someone following them. If Jon doesn't kill them first, then Vex will.
"We could just always kill him" stated Teldryn who slowly reaches for his Elven Sword. He might be tired from fighting in the melee, but he has more than enough strength to kill a simple squire.
"We're not going to kill the boy. Think of a different plan that doesn't involve killing someone" remarked Aela, making the Dunmer sigh.
"Fine, then we can always just do this." Taking his pouch of jewels, the sellsword spills the contents on the floor before Aela, Farkas and himself runs down the road.
The squire sees the three run off and attempts to follow them, but the sight of jewels lying on the floor has all the nearby commonfolk crowd along the road to try and get as much of the jewels with many starting fights over them. The squire steps away from the fighting crowd and notices that the three he has been charged with to follow have vanished.
Once they're sure they aren't being followed anymore, Teldryn, Aela and Farkas stop into an alleyway to catch their breath.
"Any idea on who could have sent him?" asked Farkas who is more than tired from fighting in the melee and from the running.
"Take your pick. From what Vex said, nearly everyone who has enough coin has spies in this city" answered the Dunmer who then looks at his now empty pouch. "What a waste..." he sighed. Being a sellsword, coin and jewels have become a staple to his life so throwing away so much hurts him, spiritually.
Aela shakes her head over the Dunmer's antics. "You just won twenty thousand dragons so quit your bitching and let's get back to the guild."
"Fine" answered Teldryn who follows after the Companions towards the nearest manhole.
xXx
Author's Note: I just want to remind you beautiful readers that I am not exactly knowledgeable of Game of Thrones so don't be afraid to tell me if something is wrong, either it be a certain aspect of the Game of Thrones or even the way they speak. If you have something to say, make sure to PM me because I don't read reviews. Too much negativity :p
I also know that the tourney would take at least three days, but I decided to just do the events in the one.
Jon's Skill Levels:
One-Handed (100) - You know what's better than a sword?
Two-Handed (100) - An even bigger sword!
Archery (40) - Load, point and shoot a crossbow. It isn't that hard.
Block (30) - Why use a shield when you can just use another sword?
Light Armour (100) - The winner is always the one who moves the fastest.
Heavy Armour (85) - Heavy, but safe.
Smithing (100) - Eorlund Grey-Mane would be proud.
Sneak (100) - By the time you hear me, you'll already be dead.
Lockpicking (60) - Won't be opening any steel doors anytime soon.
Pickpocket (40) - Does it count if I pickpocket a corpse?
Speech (90) - Why fight when we can just talk?
Alchemy (75) - Potions and Poisons for any circumstance.
Enchanting (50) - Probably better to just pay for the enchantment.
Alteration (100) - Reality is my plaything!
Restoration (80) - Can heal all but the most fatal of injuries.
Destruction (75) - BOOM!
Conjuration (35) - Does Westeros really need anymore zombies?
Illusion (60) - Want to see a magic trick?
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