Despite the Hand's protests against it, a tournament was held in his honour. Rhaena could understand the lack of interest in a tournament when the country was already so racked in debt, however King Robert was not to be refused. Being good at listening and having a fair head for numbers, Rhaena knew very well just how much debt Westeros owed and how it was unlikely that the country would ever recover from it unless some extreme measures were taken. Or some rich families killed off and their entire fortunes seized, as was sometimes the method of past kings. Personally, she hoped the Lannisters would be the ones to receive the short stick but thus far they seemed to be as wealthy and powerful as ever. In fact, Rhaena would not be surprised that if after Robert died, it would be Lannister red that was seen everywhere. Ser Jaime would be named the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Tywin Lannister would become the Hand of the new King Joffrey, and Cersei would rule as Queen Regent until her son was of age. They had played their cards extremely well. This tourney just seemed like a tactless waste of economy, yet Rhaena had promised Sansa that she would go in order to explain to her who was who and who they rode for and point out all the important people. In truth it was far too hot for a tourney. Rhaena wondered how any of the men could stand it in such cumbersome armour. Nestled between Sansa and Septa Mordane, Rhaena caught Sansa glancing behind her up to the royal box where Joffrey sat near to his mother awaiting the next set. "Lover's quarrel?" A sickly voice queried in all innocence though Rhaena recognised it immediately and shuddered discreetly as it reached her ears, not having realised she was sat almost directly in front of Lord Petyr Baelish, the insidious worm.
"I'm sorry, do I…?"
"Dears, this is Lord Petyr Baelish. He has known…" Septa Mordane began but Baelish lifted a hand in order to halt her so that he could speak for himself, Rhaena having turned her head discreetly to view him in the corner of her eye. Where it not for the fact that this tournament was in honour of Lord Stark, Rhaena might have said some very choice words to Lord Baelish or even simply got to her feet and left however she did not wish to misbehave at a tournament dedicated to Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King. For his sake, she would bear the presence of that odious toad.
"I'm an old friend of the family. I've known your mother for a long, long time." He smiled and sat down next to Sansa. Arya leaned forwards eagerly in order to see past Rhaena and eagerly asked her question without caring for its rudeness.
"Why do they call you Littlefinger?" She asked loudly and Sansa gasped lightly and chided Arya's name at her sister's indelicacy. Rhaena only smirked and gave Arya a secret wink as she placed her arm around the younger girl as the septa also scolded her.
"Don't be rude." Septa Mordane quipped but Littlefinger laughed lightly and bore the question without contempt despite Rhaena knowing for a fact that Baelish hated to be called Littlefinger. Usually, she only used this term to address him should she ever have a requirement to speak to him though she kept such needs to a minimum. Looking back, Rhaena could not recall speaking to Baelish once these past eighteen months.
"No, no, it's perfectly alright." He assured them all before shifting further in his seat so that he could answer Arya's question as she eagerly listened. "You see, when I was a boy, I was very little and I had come from a small patch of land called The Fingers, so you see," he smiled to her, though his smile held no warmth in it at all. "It is an exceptionally clever nickname." He then looked up to Rhaena and smiled further though she bristled against it, knowing better than to be fooled by his expressions. "Lady Rhaena, I had no idea that you were good friends with these wonderful ladies."
"Did you not, Lord Baelish? That shocks me greatly. I was under the impression that you knew everything." Rhaena responded to him frostily, giving him a hard look before turning her head as Baelish laughed and assured her that this was not the case but Rhaena did not even acknowledge his answer. She was saved from being chided for rudeness by Septa Mordane and being forced to continue conversation with Baelish by the sudden bellowing of the king, already tipsy with drink, demanding for the joust to begun in a rather vulgar attitude which quickly made the septa forget any disrespect on Rhaena's part.
"I've been sitting here for days! Start the joust already before I piss myself." The queen pursed her lips then rose, walking away in disgust at her husband. Rhaena did not have the heart to feel sorry for her. Instead, she turned her attention to the joust where things were now beginning. She watched as two knights rode forwards upon their horses, one of them known by his sheer size as the Mountain. A terrifying opponent to anyone less than an expert in the saddle and with a lance but when Rhaena turned to look at the Mountain's opponent, she found that she did not know them which was unusual because she had lived in King's Landing long enough that she knew near enough every courtier, their household number, the names of their children, the names of their mistresses and the knights in their service. The colours and emblem this particular knight wore were that of Jon Arryn of the Vale though he had already been dead some months. Rheana knew Jon Arryn well; he was a quiet soul but had been good to her. Not overly or obviously kind, but better than others who would show outward contempt. She had been saddened to hear of his passing and had attended his funeral in secret.
"Gods who's that?" Sansa whispered, rousing Rhaena from her pensive thoughts in order to answer however Baelish spoke first, much to Rhaena's annoyance. If she was not to answer questions, then what was her purpose in being here?
"That is Ser Gregor Clegane, also known as the Mountain." Littlefinger answered her dutifully. "He is the older brother of Sandor Clegane." Almost instinctively upon hearing the name Rhaena's eyes flickered up to the Hound who was watching his brother with a dark look in his eyes, standing near to the royal family as their loyal guardian and protector.
"And his opponent?"
"Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire but…well look at him now." To this Rhaena could see what Baelish meant. The armour Ser Hugh wore was brand new and shining quite handsomely, and the horse looked fresh and still quite young. Having grown up in such an environment, Rhaena was good at recognising such things. It was easy to spot the experienced knights from those who were too big for their breeches, as it were and this one seemed like he had just walked out of the armourer's shop only moments ago and had never actually participated in a joust before.
"He will be cut to pieces." Rhaena mused simply. "He has no clue what he is doing."
"And you do, my lady?" Littlefinger enquired with a quirk of his eyebrow though the lady in question did not even turn her face as she responded.
"Of course not, I have never lifted a lance in my life. However, you can see it written in his face." Gesturing lightly towards the knight who now looked like he would very much love to return home and retreat from the imposing bulk of a man which was to be an opponent. "He is a fool if he does not choose to withdraw now."
"I think I must agree with you on that count, my lady." Littlefinger noted as he turned to watch the knights bow, everyone whispering and murmuring with much the same comments on the two knights. The king, growing ever impatient, dismissed the knights in their bowing in favour of having them joust for his entertainment. Each man took up his place and waited until the horn sounded to signal that they could begin and charge their horses at one another. Everyone present held their breaths in anticipation and Rhaena suddenly had two pairs of hands gripping onto her as both Arya and Sansa held onto her tightly, Sansa with apprehension and Arya with excitement, both watching unblinkingly as the two knights rode hard at each other with their lances grasped tightly in hand. Whilst the horses rode at one another, Rhaena considered which one she preferred and decided upon the black stallion, for he was very beautiful with a long flowing mane and a strong muscular body which was clearly bred to be a war horse but at the same time, he was simply stunning, a black shadow made alive in the vibrant sun.
Now she looked to the riders, seeing Ser Clegane holding firm whilst on the other hand, the lance carried by Ser Hugh wavered rather unsteadily and even began to point upwards slightly. "He's going to miss completely unless he levels that damn stick." Someone behind her hissed as the knights drew closer to one another. In the blink of an eye the spectacle was over and the knights were cantering to the other end of the arena. Ser Hugh had missed his shot completely and the Mountain had managed to catch his opponent's shoulder. He seemed unhurt and courageously cantered forwards, a determined expression in his stature as he prepared to take aim again. Rhaena watched calmly as the knights drew closer and closer…until Gregor Clegane made a savage thrust at Ser Hugh's neck and the lance splintered, diving right into Ser Hugh's throat. Sansa screamed and leaped to her feet at the horror but Rhaena remained seated and calm, merely stared with wide eyes. Arya jumped violently and gasped but Rhaena took her hand and squeezed reassuringly as she quickly clamped her hand down across Arya's eyes to keep her from seeing as her other hand reached out to grasp hold of Sansa who quickly dropped and hid her face into Rhaena's shoulder as she hushed her gently from her distress.
The knight fell from his horse and lay there, spluttering in the sand as he twitched, blood flying from his throat as he chocked to death before he could even die of his injury, drowning in his own blood. It poured from his mouth as he tried to keep breathing but in the end there was too much of it and no one was able to help him, dead before anyone had even reached his side. Rhaena sighed heavily as she watched him take his last pain filled breath before falling limp, never to move again. "Not what you were expecting? Has anyone ever told you the story of the Mountain and the Hound?" Littlefinger whispered to Sansa carefully who leaned towards him curiously though she still clung securely to Rhaena for comfort. "Lovely little tale of brotherly love. The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe. Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation. Some lucky boys just born with a talent for violence. One evening...Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the fire. Gregor's toy, a wooden knight. Gregor never said a word, he just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there while the boy screamed, while his face melted. There aren't very many people who know that story." Baelish had continued to whisper in a rather haunting voice which caused Sansa to shiver once more and Rhaena to throw a look of admonishment over her shoulder to Baelish.
"Perhaps such a story is not appropriate for this exact moment." She suggested to him coldly though Baelish only smiled at her again. It seemed to be his only expression, a constant smirk resting across his face in such an irritating manner. Baelish had told her the exact same story many years ago as a means to frighten her and he had succeeded. She had found both the Mountain and the Hound exceedingly terrifying from that moment onwards, though she was more used to Sandor Clegane now since she had crossed paths with him multiple times and had discovered so long as you stayed out of his way and did not speak to him then he would give you no trouble.
"I won't tell anyone. I promise." Sansa whispered sweetly and quietly, still in shock from what she had witnessed.
"No, please don't." Littlefinger agreed almost mockingly though he hid it well from an inexperienced person such as Sansa who was unable to detect the little nuances in a person's tone. "If the Hound so much as heard you mention it then I'm afraid all the knights in King's Landing would not be able to save you." Sansa gulped, glancing up to the Hound who remained standing above them near the royal family before hurriedly looking away again before he could notice her. Rhaena curled her hand over Sansa's head in order to comfort her and remained keeping a hold of both girls as Ser Hugh was dragged away, a bloody trail following in his wake. It was a messy business these tournaments, and yet these men would still insist upon participating in them. Ridiculous. Nothing more of particular interest happened thereafter, which suffice to say was of a relief to Rhaena as she stood once the tourney had been called to cease as the afternoon was wearing on to be resumed on the morrow. Instead, the banquet for all in attendance of rank and high birth was spread with every type of morsel and sampling imaginable. Sansa was delighted with the view, though Arya had long since scurried away and would miss the delectable delights of the royal kitchens. This was perhaps more to Sansa's liking, who could enjoy the poetic setting with her prince at her side, Joffrey once more acting as chivalrous and charming as before despite the altercation with Arya. Knowing that she had no place at such a table, Rhaena slipped away so quietly that Sansa did not even notice, too taken in by the romantic setting of beautiful nobles sitting to feast together after the thrills of the day.
Rhaena was glad to be away from the rest of them, their laughter and smiles sending crawling shivers down her spine as she ducked her head and hurried out of sight. She thought it odd that Lord Stark did not make an appearance at his own tourney but reasoned that perhaps he was simply extremely busy and might make an appearance tomorrow, he had made it clear in any case that he disapproved of such expensive fanfare when the realm was already in such great debt. Lifting her head as she saw a familiar person a short distance away and immediately angled herself towards them. "Ser Barristan." She called and the knight paused to look for her, scanning the crowds until she emerged from them, her white hair brightened by the setting sunlight so that it began to take on the shades of sunset. "Is there anyone to stand vigil for the fallen knight?" Asking after the knight Ser Barristan inclined his head to her in polite greeting before giving his answer.
"No one, my lady." He told her, using formalities in public as he was already aware of several gazes being laid upon them. "I was going to stand myself." Rhaena nodded in understanding, giving a moment of contemplation before seemingly making her decision.
"Then I shall join you."
"I do not think…"
"Please, I wish to. I will represent his family in their absence." She insisted, refusing to take no for an answer which was a trait Ser Barristan knew well. He smiled briefly, receiving the feeling that he may have already lost this argument because he could see that determined, fiery look in her eye which meant that she was not going to relent on anything she had set her mind to. Still, he might as well try.
"You do not know him, my lady."
"Then that is a fault on my part, but I can still mourn for him and pray that the gods take mercy upon his soul." She answered then walked towards the tent. Ser Barristan smiled softly as she passed him and saw that their argument had ended rather finally. She would have made a wonderful queen. This treasonous thought was one of his most closely guarded secrets and never passed his lips. Having watched Rhaena grow up, it was clear in Ser Barristan's mind that had she become the last surviving heir of the Targaryen bloodline, she would have made a fine example of a loving and gracious queen. Possibly never a rich one for she would rather give her money away to those who truly needed it rather than hoard it for herself, which would leave her vulnerable in other aspects of his life, but that was why a ruler required loyal and devoted knights by their side. Ser Barristan would have been proud to have served such a queen, were their reality only a little different. Tucking away such thoughts, Ser Barristan followed the young woman into the tent and saw her gazing down at Ser Hugh with a heaviness in her expression. Tenderly she picked up a wet cloth and began to wipe the knight's mouth clean from the blood.
"My lady." Ser Barristan objected but she shook her head, silencing him and did not allow him to take the cloth from her. Instead, she helped to clean the knight's body with the silent sisters before taking her place beside Ser Barristan and began the vigil for the fallen as there was no one else there who cared enough to wish him well on his journey and pray to the gods on his behalf. As the night wore on, Rhaena wondered to herself what had possessed Ser Hugh to enter the tourney with such clear inexperience and furthermore, feel that he could challenge the Mountain and claim victory? To these questions, Rhaena knew she would never learn the answers, so instead simply continued the vigil and remained utterly silent by Ser Barristan's side.