Glory
By the next morning rumours of Gendry and Sansa's betrothal flew about so quickly that by the afternoon, and the single combat trials, their wedding was practically fact. The audience arrived and took their seats though the mood was much more energetic than it had ever been. There was celebration in the air over Joff's engagement, the prospect of a future queen, sympathy for Myrcella's position, and excitement at the prospect of Dorne arriving to the Capital in the nearby years. Gossip was everywhere. Tenfold it's usual amount.
Gendry hadn't seen Arya all morning. She's skipped the morning's Axe Throwing Competition entirely and now, as he prepared with hammer in hand for his first fight, he hoped she wasn't already over the city walls.
He tried to not focus on her, though his father's words rang in his head and the flower crown was sitting a few feet away from the Victor's Circle, a perfect shade of Winter Blue. Instead he focused on his family. Myrcella, her eyes red rimmed and still wet with tears, trying to be strong in the row beneath the father who'd all but banished her the night before. She'd ship off in two weeks, to a land she'd only read about to marry a man she didn't know at all. Tommen sat next to her, feeling slightly better but still looking a little pale and sickly. He'd begged their mother to let him come to the grounds for the last event, and Myrcella had begged as well, and Cersei had relented. The only Lannister who looked to be in fine form this morning was Joffrey. Pleased as punch with his own betrothal and either oblivious or uncaring to the effect it had on everyone else, he sat with his scrunched up face beaming out at the crowd. Margaery sat next to him and of course, Sansa Stark was there too.
He couldn't look at her. His face would betray the fact that he couldn't marry her. He couldn't marry her. But he had to. He thought of the stories Lord Stark had told him, about his own betrothal, and how Catelyn had been expecting to marry his brother Brandon. And now they found themselves in a similar situation…
Where was Arya?
Under the heat of the blazing sun, lords and ladies watched as men in heavy armour attempted to prove their worth, weapon in hand. Gendry gripped his hammer tightly. He was going to win. With Gregor Cleagane eliminated, his biggest competition was Loras Tyrell, who he had no fear of when he had a war hammer in his hand.
After his first few fights, Gendry was allotted a break. He took the moment to join his family, clad in armour, and watch the others sparring. Some pipsqueak of a knight was fighting Lancel Lannister and giving the crowd something to laugh about. Gendry recognized the armour, though he couldn't quite place where he'd seen it. He turned his attentions to Myrcella.
"How are you feeling?" He asked.
"Fine, brother, just fine." She replied, eyes glued to the fight below. The look on her face told him not to press further.
"And how are you, Tommen?" He asked.
"I feel great!" Was Tommen's reply, it was genuine and true.
"Don't you seem excited?" He said with a smile. Gendry himself did not feel great. He was sweaty, and tired, and the sun was blazing a million degrees in the sky and the competition was not even half over.
"Yes, I'm all better. But mother doesn't believe me. She also didn't believe me when I told her there was cat in my room last night."
"What?" Gendry asked.
"He means Ser Pounce."
"No!" Tommen said, outraged. "Ser Pounce sleeps above my pillow. This cat was at the end of my bed, and it's eyes were glowing. He told me he was a cat and he was watching over me and that I should go back to sleep and get some rest."
"And?" Gendry asked.
"And I did." Tommen replied, turning nonchalant, back to the fights.
"Mother's posting more men by his door even though it was a dream." Myrcella determined, waving them away with a swoosh of her delicate hand.
"It was not a dream!" Tommen protested.
"A cat spoke to you?" Gendry asked.
"Tell Gendry what else the cat said, Tommen." She said, pressing him on.
Gendry looked at his youngest brother, "It told me the small knight would win tomorrow's tournament."
"And?"
"And that the small knight would even beat the future king."
"Oh really?" Gendry said with a smile.
"The cat said you knew nothing in comparison to his skill."
"Well," Gendry said, "We'll see about that soon enough won't we?"
Below them, the small knight took down Lancel with a few unexpectantly strong blows. And their Lannister cousin landed in the dirt, shaking as he stared up and called "Mercy!"
The crowed applauded as the small knight stretched his arm over his head in victory before lending a hand to help the fallen boy up. He paused for a moment and seemed to say something to Lancel that caused him to go white as a sheet.
Tommen's nose crumpled in confusion, "That armour looks... like mine."
"Curiouser and curiouser." Myrcella said. "Who do you fight next?" She asked.
"I'm not sure I know." He said. "It as supposed to be Thoros of Myr but after winning the meelee he bowed out. Purse was too heavy, I suppose."
"Or perhaps he didn't want to embarrass his future king by beating him." Myrcella said, raising an eyebrow and attempting a smile. It made Gendry happy to see her spirits lifting.
"Perhaps." Gendry said with a smile to match.
Loras Tyrell was up next, fighting Beric Dondarrion, which would prove to be a good match. He enjoyed the first portion of it, until Tommen, nervous and unable to take all the violent excitement, hid himself in Myrcella's arms. Joffrey sneered at them from his seat.
"Such a weak little boy, can't handle a few scrapes and cuts. Can't handle the sniffles without mummy by his bedside." Joffrey glared at him. "Can't even put that armour of his to good use."
"I don't seem to recall you being so much stronger, Joff." Gendry called out over his siblings' heads. "I've heard stories of 'wolf bites' being no greater than a small scratch, and yet you run crying all the way to mummy."
"That's what happens when you listen to a wolf bitch's lies." Joffrey said.
Gendry stood up at once but Joff paid no attention.
"What are you going to do?" Joffrey asked, looking bored as he continued to watch the fight below. "Defend your betrothed? That's not what she is anymore. Now you just get my leftovers."
Sansa looked away, embarrassed, and Margaery placed a consolatory hand on hers.
"Not here, Gendry." Myrcella said, standing too and gently placing a hand on her brothers shoulder. "Not now. Sansa wouldn't like it, it would embarrass her, neither would Arya. And neither would I." He looked down at her. He could've sworn he felt steam coming out of his ears. But she looked so gentle, and still, and hopeful. So he gathered up his anger and stormed off instead. At the bottom of the steps, he turned and glared up at his spoiled little brother. "Why not pick on someone your own size, Joff? Why not join the men, down here, and fight with something other than your rotten little tongue."
Joffrey scoffed and waved away Gendry's comments while brushing Margaery's hand from his arm.
To everyone's surprised, Beric Dondarrion was bested by Loras Tyrell. The Knight Flowers continued to rise in the people's good graces.
Joffrey soon grew tired of sitting with the women and retreated to his mother's side. Tyrion Lannister arrived, taking Gendry's old place between Myrcella and Tommen, making them laugh and smile and cheer on the knights fighting below. When Tommen told his uncle about the cat in his room and the prophecy it told Tyrion only smiled and said,
"I don't know why you sound so surprised, us small men still know how to take down our enemies." He leaned in close and smiled, "We go for the knees. Can't reach much higher, I'm afraid." The two children giggle into their hands and Tyrion smiled at them.
"Gendry's fighting!" Myrcella squealed, sitting up straight in her chair. The audience paid great attention as Gendry and his opponent danced their way around the yard, the clanging of their swords providing the rhythm.
They were a well matched pair, equals in size and strength, though the other man had a much bigger sword. And when it struck down, it broke the prince's clear in half. The whole arena held their breath. Suddenly the dance sped up, with Gendry teetering backwards, dodging blow after blow of the tall, bright sword.
"What now?" Myrcella asked. "Has Gendry lost?"
"He certainly doesn't seem to think so." Tyrion said, watching his nephew and noticing the laughing smile peaking out from under his handcrafted helm.
Behind the sparring the rows of men waiting eagerly for their own fight watched with equal awe. The pair fought passed several dropped jaws, tight lips and wide eyes until they reached the end of the line and found Loras Tyrell, who was next to spar, waiting with his opponent, the Small Knight.
Loras watched with one eyebrow cocked, wondering if he might not have to beat his future king after all. He tried to remember the name of the man the Prince was fighting, but was at a loss for his name. He was from the Reach, or perhaps was it the Crownlands? He was about to turn to his opponent and asked when his thoughts were interrupting by the smooth, sharp sound of steel leaving sheath. And his balance felt off, suddenly.
"Catch!" The Small Knight next to him shouted, throwing Loras' own sword to the Prince. Loras and the Prince joined the rest of the Arena in the same act: staring at this peculiar little man. The Small Knight looked around at the silence, and the eyes falling on him. His eyes returned to the Prince and gestured to his opponent. "Fight!" He shouted, unimpressed by the Prince's stunned expression.
"Is he allowed to do that?" Myrcella whispered to her uncle.
"Well I can't imagine our young Knight of Flowers will be to pleased but technically... technically it's allowed."
The fight resumed, Gendry's energy was renewed, as was the audience's who were now cheering louder than ever, meanwhile Gendry's opponent looked completely stunned.
After that it was an easy win.
The Prince took a bow as the crowd cheered, and then quickly returned his sword to Loras Tyrell, who smiled curtly and bowed to his Prince. Gendry took the arm of his helper and lifted it into the air with his, earning the Small Knight an uproarious applause. Minutes later, when it died down, Gendry smiled at the anonymous knight.
"Thank you for your help." He said. "Good luck in your fight." The knight offered a small bow before rushing away, muttering something under his breath about being owed.
He returned to Loras' side and chuckled as Gendry removed his helm and disappeared to find a drink.
"You'll never win, now." The small knight said, smiling and waving.
"And what makes you say that?" Loras asked. "I could beat you in my sleep."
"But they wouldn't like that." The knight suggested, waving to his adoring audience. "Because now they love me too."
The Arena cleared out as the midday sun began to fall. Food and music and dancing were causing a ruckus in the streets of the city while inside the Keep, the children of royalty ate silently in the quiet Hall.
Gendry entered, sweaty, tired and hungry, and was greeted by a hug from Myrcella.
"That was incredible!" She shouted, smiling ear to ear.
"An excellent fight, your Grace." Margaery said. Sansa merely smiled.
"Sansa," Gendry began, causing her eyes and hopes to lift. "Have you seen Arya? I haven't seen her all day."
"Neither have I." Myrcella said. "She wash't outside in the crowd. What a fight to miss!"
"I'm going to go look for her." Gendry decided.
"You should really rest." Margaery commented.
"I'm sure she's not gone too far." Sansa said dryly.
"Then she won't be hard to find." He said, leaving the Hall.
Sansa had looked sad all day, Margaery noticed. And it was because she'd felt sad all day. But her plan was working splendidly even if not from all angles. Still, she hated seeing her so shaken up. She looped her arm through Sansa's, determined to see her smile.
"Don't worry, Gendry will win and name you, and if not, Loras will win and name you and we'll cause a wonderful scandal! Wouldn't that be fun?" She asked, smiling suggestively. But Sansa did not return. "You have options, Sansa, you'll have more than you can possible dream of. I'll make sure of it."
Sasna rested her head on Margaery's shoulder, the only person in the world who was truly looking out for her.
The competition resumed. It would be either Loras Tyrell or the Small Knight facing off against the Prince.
Despite the crowd's love for both men, it was the prince everyone truly favoured. They wanted him to win, they wanted him to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty. They wanted
"Loras looks confident." Sansa said, Margaery smiled and patted her knee.
"My brother's only worry now is whether or not to let the Prince win. On the one hand it would be rude to beat him in his own home, in front of his people, but it's not in Loras' nature to fall on his own sword. Winning would guarantee him a place in Gendry's King's Guard. Then no matter who you'd marry we'd be here, together." She said, tugging Sansa closer.
"When did you lose such faith that I'd be marrying Gendry?" Sansa asked, pulling away.
"I haven't." Margaeyr said, eyes wide with shock. "Everyone in the city is sure yours is the next match to be made." Her smile faltered with her next words, "I suppose... I just wonder, if that's what you want, Sansa?"
"Of course." She said.
"I know you want to stay here, to be here with me, ruling the city, to be Queen. But do you want Gendry?" She asked. "This goes beyond a woman's duty, Sansa, it's one thing to not like your betrothed it's another entirely to feel wrong, guilty, to even look at them, or speak to them."
"What are you saying?" She asked. "That I'm too frightened to speak to Gendry?"
"No, I'm saying that's he's only Arya's if you let him be. You are beautiful, kind, and wonderful, Sansa. If you want him you have all the gifts to make him yours. Everyone already believes you've got him, why not try to convince yourself?"
But he's hers. It was the first thought to enter her mind, and it rung out so true. She hid her eyes from Margaery, in case her clever friend could read her mind again.
"I have to go." She said, rising and running away.
Down on the grounds, she found Gendry quickly. His eyes set wholeheartedly on the fight.
"What has you so intrigued, your Grace?" Sansa asked, moving next to him.
"Sansa, you shouldn't be down here." He said, turning his eyes briefly to her then back to the fight.
"I'll be okay." She said, letting her arms rest next to his on the fence. "I'm strong too."
The Small Knight seemed to teeter slightly in place, and Sansa could see why, "He's fighting right-handed? Why?" She asked, outraged. Gendry looked at her and she began to backtrack. "He's just fought left handed this whole time... has he not?"
"He has," Gendry nodded. "Looks like we've both got a keen eye. He's overconfident. He's trying to throw Loras off and it's not going to work unless he can stick to the proper footing."
"Is it not the same trick you pulled in the training yard? Arya said you fight with a sword instead of war hammer when you aren't afraid of whoever you're fighting."
"Perhaps, yes. But not just that, it's also so they can't see your best moves before your in a true battle. You never want to reveal your full arsenal of attacks to an enemy. This Knight," He said, gesturing to the Small one, "Is repeating all his previous moves, just in opposition, the only part of it throwing Loras off is the fact that it's completely non-sensical."
"Perhaps that is his plan of attack?" Sansa asked, optimistically.
"You want to see the good in people, don't you?" He chuckled.
"I suppose... I try." She said uncertainly. "I try to see it in everyone. In Arya... in you." His eyes widened at those words. "You two seem to have become such close friends, but with the events of the last few days... I suppose I just have to ask... are you, I mean, are we..."
"I don't know." He said shortly.
"Oh... alright." Sansa said, unsure where to go next. Though she had more questions, "When you win, will you at least name me? As your Queen... of Love and Beauty, I mean."
"If I win," He said. "I don't know who I will name."
"Arya's not even here." Sansa said spitefully. "You can't even name her... You shouldn't name her."
"Why not?" He asked, feeling mild outrage. "Because I should name you instead?"
"No!" She defended. "Because... because... have you even thought this through? You name Arya your Queen of Love and Beauty, you make her your queen, and... what's next? You two rule the kingdom in perfect happiness? You with your young, beautiful, dutiful queen on your arm, by your side. Does that sound like my sister, your Grace?"
Gendry groaned, "No, it doesn't sound like any of us."
"Arya doesn't want to be here. She wants the North. She belongs there." Sansa smiled to herself, her fingers toying with the end of her simple braid. "You should've seen her there. She was so alive, with such a big smile. Ugh, I could've strangled her some days, getting away with whatever she pleased, driving our Septa crazy. But she was happy. Here, she only seems that way. But she's not. Trust me, she's not."
Gendry's eyes were far off. Now neither of them were watching the fight.
"I know you're in love with her." Sansa said. "And that you're not in love with me. Regardless of what you think of me, you don't want to marry me. I can see it. It's everyone else who's too excited to notice. But if you really love her, at least consider what I'm saying. Marry me, and you please our families, you appease the kingdom, and you let her go free. I'm her sister, your her friend, her king, together we can set a decree that she doesn't have to be married. We can send her home... I thought, we could make her Warden of the North. Keep her here, marry her now, and you'll only push her away."
"Are these your ideas? Or theirs?" He asked, pointing to the stands where Margaery and Cersei sat.
"Mine." Sansa said, letting the offence ring through in her voice. "Margaery's been nothing but kind to me. And your mother barely even speaks to me."
"Just because Cersei isn't speaking to you doesn't mean she doesn't have you wrapped around her finger. As for Margaery Tyrell, she is a snake hidden in flowers. Watch out for her."
"I will," Sansa said. "Just as she's watched out for me. She's taken care of me, while no one else here has. She's ensuring that I won't fall into the court's bad graces when you toss me aside. Her intentions with me are good and true. I need her, especially since no one here seems to need me."
Gendry sighed and stared out at the yard, "It's not that I would hate to marry. And if it's my duty, I'll do it. In any other circumstances you would've made me a very happy man, I'm sure." He paused and looked down, "But after meeting her... I just... couldn't. I hope you know that feeling someday."
Sansa willed the tears out of her eyes. She glanced one last time at the Small Knight and scoffed, "She couldn't even hide it well." Then she walked away.
Gendry straightened up and watched the fight.
The Small Knight lost to Loras Tyrell, though not as quickly or as surely as Gendry and the others might've thought.
He won the crowd's heart, their sympathy and concern, with every falter and every shake. And then as Loras beat and pounded and swung his large sword, he seemed brutal compared to the small man, no he must be only a boy, with the sword thin as a needle.
Loras' breath grew heavy, his legs and arms weakened, and as the crowd's cheers diminished with each of his blows, his confidence did in fact waver. Then the Small Knight switched hands and came back full force, left hand swinging, Loras caught of guard was suddenly unsure of his to protect himself and swung helplessly as he staggered backwards to the middle ground.
But Loras would not go down, he wouldn't lose to the Prince and he would hardly let himself lose to a knight so small, so unknown. He stroked back with quick, strong advances until finally, with the knight's back against a wall, he stabbed him under the arm, his sword landed inches deep in the wood post behind the knight.
"Yield." He instructed. And much to his chagrin the younger knight did as told.
Loras circled the yard, victorious. The crowd applauded his comeback as the Small Knight tossed his sword to the ground and stomped angrily over to pick it up, before quickly disappearing.
Breathing heavily, he passed the other knights, eager to return to the stables for a drink. When the Small Knight passed the Prince, neither said anything, the Prince only smiled and nodded before entering the ring for the final fight.
Loras Tyrell did not let his Future King win. He did however lose, and in quite spectacular fashion. Both men trying so hard, swinging with all their might. Gendry with his war hammer, and Loras with his long, shining sword.
It was a quick fight. Both men were tired, but just stubborn enough to keep the fight going. But while Loras was fast, Gendry was strong, and once he'd had enough he finished Loras with three quick, strong swings. The crowd cheered, and Gendry found it strange, that he was so tired he could barely find it in himself to celebrate. He helped Loras off the ground and the two stood together, both dazed and confused until Gendry was guided to the Victor's Circle and handed the crown of flowers. The rest of the knights were sent out on the grounds to applaud their future king and celebrate with him.
Gendry's vision was fuzzy. He ripped the helmet off his head and couldn't hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears. He felt his arm being lifted and the applause growing. He shook his head and felt things clear up, slightly. He had won. And now they placed in his hand the crown of roses, to be given to some lucky girl.
To Sansa Stark. It was to be given to Sansa Stark. There she was, right there at the railing, waiting patiently in her place with good intentions and her unsuspecting eyes tuck down at her hands. She was applauding along with the rest of them, smiling at Myrcella as she cheered for him. Her smile was wide but her eyes looked sad. The poor girl, all eyes on her, expectant, anticipating, and she had nothing coming to her. She already knew it too.
Because the crown was for Arya. Arya who wasn't there, and hadn't been seen all day. Arya who was in hiding. His eyes glazed over the armoured knights standing in a line. He chuckled to himself. Arya who couldn't even hide it well.
There were whisperings among the crowds, of the future king and queen beginning their romance here today, for everyone to see.
His eyes met Sansa's and he smiled, nodding his apologies. She sighed, and shook her head, nodded all the same. She bit her lip to keep tears from forming. He walked in clunky armour, arms stiff as they swung back and forth, the crown losing petals with every step.
"You think you're so clever." He said, stopping in front of the Small Knight. He tossed the crown and it landed lopsided on the helm.
The crowd gasped and went silent.
The knight didn't move, but Gendry could see the armour begin to shake. The knight reached up, grabbed the crown, and threw it to the ground then ripped off his own helmet and stepped up to the Prince.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Arya shouted. Her hair was matted and tangled from being stuck under the helm all day.
He bent down and picked the crown off the ground. "Naming you as my Queen of Love and Beauty." He replied, "And they can all deal with it as they please."
"Yes, they can." Arya said, pulling the crown from her head and throwing over her shoulder as she left the Arena. The last of the petals fell as it arched over the grounds into the audience.
Gendry left too a moment later, his mind a mixture of disappointment and satisfaction.
The crowd was more alive than ever. Alive with gossip and scandal, happier now than they ever could've imagined.
Sansa looked down, the blue flower crown sat barren in her lap.