AN: Okay, the last update before Christmas. This is also the longest chapter I've written so far, with the word count of 4.9 k words before this note. I really hope you'll like this chapter, I decided to return a couple of the characters we met earlier into the story. Also, be sure to check out my profile for some stuff that should help you better envision Ryssa in this chapter as well as my tumblr to see some news regarding my existing fics and some of my ideas for future ones.
Hope you'll enjoy and please be sure to leave me a review. Doesn't matter if it's positive or negative (as long as it's not flames) just leave me something so I know you've read this chapter.
Hear from you guys, next time! Love you all,
angel ;)
Chapter 11Several days before the hand's tourney, Ryssa received a letter written in her mother's hand saying that Therenger, Niantine and a few of the finest knights of Forgehammer were soon to arrive to King's Landing. The letter did not specify whether they were to take part in the tourney but knowing them all, there was little to no chance of them not participating. In fact, Ryssa, too, had considered applying for the archery contest but thought it would not sit well with the prissy people of the capitol to see a woman, one of her age to add the salt to the wound, win against many experienced men of Houses that were considered to be more noble and far greater than her House. The House that provided jewellery and many other fine metalwork items to the most of the kingdom.
She dipped her toes in the warm water of the Narrow Sea. It seemed odd to her to see water that was not at an almost freezing point and that was pleasant enough to swim in it. There was no chance of doing that outside back home unless you felt like risking your life by catching pneumonia, and that is the best case scenario. The water was a beautiful mix of blue and green, one she had only seen on the fabrics of gowns and dresses. Maester Hugo had eyes that colour.
Maester Hugo was an old frail man with only wisps of hair that turned the colour of snow with his age. He had been the maester for as long as anyone in the White Keep could remember, working as a healer, tutor and counsellor. In his long life, he had seen three kings take reign over the Seven Kingdoms. Ryssa liked him; he was always kind, gave good advice and had a stash of sugary sweets for the children stacked in the pockets of his thick brown robes.
Ryssa considered throwing herself into the blue-green salty waters just to try and cool her overheated skin. She was amazed to learn, in the first few days in the capitol, that while she did not tan, she did not burn, either. The only problem was that she felt like she had fallen into the depths of hell itself. Sweat trickled down her temples from her forehead. The heat of this city was, one day, going to be the death of her unless she dies of boredom before that, or so she swore in her head every single day in this cooking pot of a city. For the love of all the gods, how do the people here take it?!
A welcomed breeze blew over the bay she was in, cooling her skin and carrying some stray hairs that had fallen out of her fish plait. Her light cotton malachite green dress was bunched up at her knees so it wouldn't get wet. It was a simple sleeveless off-shoulder dress with the fabric almost transparent up to her knees. Her little black silk slippers were placed next to her thigh.
She was not as excited about the tourney as all the other ladies of the court were. All they could think of were the 'dashing' knights that were arriving into the city. Sansa and Jeyne Poole were by far the worst in Ryssa's opinion. It was like they were living only in some ridiculous fantasy world of theirs and were completely blind to the truth. They were simply delusional.
The world is a cold and hard place and Ryssa hoped, for their own good, that the girls would realize that soon before anything bad happened to them. They believed every pretty face and nice world, not seeing the lies and malevolence hidden behind them. That kind of foolishness had already taken one casualty from the Stark household - Lady, Sansa's direwolf.
When Ryssa had called the younger girls out on it and tried to warn them, they had merely scoffed at her worry and told her that she was the one who was foolish and that her many ways would never get her a good match. She could not believe their arrogance and was horrified at their assumption that Ryssa even wanted to be married. True, she had many suitors here and even more back home, but she had no wish to ever marry. It was something that had gotten Ryssa closer to the younger Stark girl, Arya. She was only too glad that her sister would soon arrive to keep her company in the next couple of days that were to ensue. Maybe she would even try to compete in the archery contest.
...
A day before the tourney was to begin; the Manalis siblings and their escort had finally arrived. Since Ryssa was Lord Stark's ward, they were all given rooms in the tower of the Hand and the Small Hall was more cheery and loud at dinner time than it had ever been.
True to Lady Alya's letter, both Therenger and Niantine had arrived, both riding their horses, Royal and Kaya, respectively, and with them they had brought three knights, Threnger's squire, five guardsmen and the master-at-arms.
Seen as how they had brought a very small amount of possessions, their group was one that had received most attention from the local population. The Manalis family rarely went south of the Neck and even rarer took part in tourneys so it was a wonder to see one member of the household, let alone twelve. Drag, Therenger's squire and son of their father's sister, Raehella, was at the head of the group and carrying the Manalis family sigil; the scarlet Phoenix taking flight over a field of blue silver.
Lady Raehella Smith was Lord Rafario Manalis' younger sister, married to the, once master of forge and smiths, now the lord's right hand, Ser Whoss Smith, and had four children; sons Haert, Drag, Eiro and a daughter, Issn. Seeing as Drag was the second oldest at the age of nineteen, Therenger took him as his squire, something the younger man was very much grateful for while the oldest, Haert, was a squire to Lord Rafario.
He was a tall lanky man with a sharp face and a slightly hooked nose he got from his father. Drag's raven hair reached his shoulders and was tied at the nape of his neck with a leather string, several hairs framing his dark hazel eyes. Out of his siblings he was the only one to be betrothed to someone, a pretty thing called Maya, a smith's daughter. He was also an extremely skilled armourer and was the person to help Therenger make his armour four years ago.
The moment they rode into the courtyard of the Red Keep, Ryssa was running to meet them with the skirts of her dress tightly clutched in her hand so she would not trip down the stairs. Therenger was the first to dismount and she threw herself into his arms. He grabbed her around her waist, lifting her foot and a half into the air and swinging her in a circle before placing her on the ground so she could hug Niantine as well. The two sisters embraced and kissed on the cheek before Ryssa pulled back with a bright grin plastered all over her face.
"I've missed you so much!" she admitted. Nia offered a nod with a smile while Ren clapped her on her shoulder with such force it almost made her knees buckle beneath her.
"Ah, it's good to see we are still appreciated, isn't that right, Nia?" Ren joked.
"Whatever you say, Ren," Nia sighed while shaking her head in good-nature. Ryssa turned to Nia.
"Did he drink a lot on the way here?" she asked.
"No more than usual. Though, he did take more time to get out of the brothels. I think we have stopped at each and every one from Forgehammer to here."
"Hey!" Ren exclaimed. "Stop talking like I'm not even here!" The girls giggled at his pouting face. It was amusing how such a grown man could still act like a spoiled little child.
"Sorry, Ren!" the sisters said in unison through their giggles making the rest of the entourage chuckle as well. Ren turned to them with a challenging look.
"What're you lot laughing about?!"
"Nothing!" they all said quickly, all the while trying to stifle their laughs. Oh, how Ryssa had missed the laughter. Everyone in King's Landing was just too serious it seemed like it would kill them to laugh and joke a little. Still smiling, Ryssa beckoned them to follow her into the tower.
"Come, I'll show you all where you'll be staying."
...
"No, I did not!" Ren loudly protested that evening as they all sat at the dinner table in the Small Hall. Ryssa was seated right across her brother with Nia on her left and Arya on her right while Ren was flanked by a chuckling Drag and Julius, the master-at-arms, who was laughing so hard he had almost choked on his food a few minutes earlier. "I was never pulled through the town by an ass!" Ren kept protesting. "You just made the whole thing up!"
"I didn't! You were as naked as the day you were born and tied to an ass that was dragging you all the way from the town to the courtyard!" Ryssa said pointing her fork at him. "I know because I kept asking myself where your clothes had gone to!"
"I have no memory of that ever happening!"
"Oh, don't you worry, I'm positive that most women back home still remember the event as clear as glass. You just don't remember it because you were so drunk you thought Wynter was the king!"
"And, could you be so kind as to tell me when that event had taken place, dear sister?" Ren asked tilting his head. It was, however, Nia who had answered that question with a stoic look on her face but mirth dancing in her dark eyes.
"The same month you took that rooster, ass and the local merchant's daughter into the local inn. Those poor animals have never been the same since that day," she finished with a faraway look. Ren had the same look for a minute before speaking with a goofy smile on his face and his eyes looking into the distance.
"Oh, yeah... Good times..." A roar of laughter from almost all the men at the table filled the walls of the Small Hall while some of the women, namely Septa Mordane, Sansa and Jeyne Poole, looked horrified at the story. An evil loom took place on Ren's face and he spoke to Ryssa.
"And what about the time you ran through the hallways stark naked screaming your head off that the Others were out to get you?" Ryssa simply smirked.
"As I recall, you were there running naked with me. Moreover, it was your idea in the first place. And let's not forget the ice sculpture incident," she loudly said so that the whole table could hear her causing snickers to pass through the Manalis household, Ren to go completely pale before blushing a bright red and many curious gazes from the male part of the Stark household to be cast at the two bickering siblings.
"I thought we had agreed never to mention that again," Ren said quickly, a slight look of panic crossing his face and silver eyes.
"You agreed, I said nothing of the sorts at the time."
The rest of the evening was spent reminscening the past and the times the siblings had spent on their various travels and growing up in the mysterious halls of Forgehammer. There were heartwarmng stories, the funny ones and the sad ones like the time their grandfather, the late Lord Seresem, had died nine years ago.
"I remember that day," Ren spoke with a sad smile. "I was twelve, I think, and maester Hugo came to me and told me some of the great stories from the time Grandfather were a boy my age. He told me that I reminded him of the man so much, and that whatever I decide to do with my life, he would be proud of me. Then he gave me some candy and took me outside to the Godswood.
"Everyone was already there, standing in front of the large Heart tree and Grandfather's body was placed upon the large pyre in the clearing in front of it. You and Nia were standing next to Mother, both dressed in all black with the veils over your hair, and Nia was clutching Mother's hand while you were standing so rigidly I thought you had turned to stone," he spoke to Ryssa before continuing. "Father lit the pyre and we all stood in the night air under the full moon watching the body burn and once it had burned down, we all gathered the ashes and buried then under the roots of the Heart tree."
"Yes, it started snowing the next day," Nia said quietly. "Do you both remember?" Ren and Ryssa smiled.
"We went out and made a snowman and later we went skating on the river once we learned it had frozen over during the night."
...
Ryssa and Nia rode to the tourney on their horses alone. The guards that came with Nia and Ren knew the sisters well enough not to offer to escort them. When it came to the two sisters, they were more that capable of taking care of themselves.
Both were dressed in light flowing gowns with sleeves that went to their knees and had a slit at the beginning of the upper arm leaving them bare and easy for the sisters to handle a bow or a blade without fearing of ripping their dresses, and a back that dipped so low that half of Ryssa's mark was on display for the world to see.. The dresses were held at the waist by silver belts; Ryssa's dress the colour of sea blue-green while Nia's was a dark blue. Both had leather bracers on their forearms and brown leather boots that reached mid-calf. Nia's hair was elegantly braided down right shoulder with silver flowers placed down its length. Ryssa's bangs fell freely on her face while the rest of it was pulled back in a five-strand braid ponytail tied with silver silk ribbon at the end.
They attracted quite a few stares with their unorthodox clothing and their massive horses. While, all Ahslands' horses were quite large, none could measure up to Ryssa's black stallion, Wynter. Nia's mare, Kaya, though considerably smaller than Wynter, was no less beautiful. She held herself with a kind of dignity that could only be seen in humans, her gold coat and creamy mane and tail were brushed until they could reflect the sunlight making the horse seem like it was truly made from the precious metal.
Ren had announced that he was to take part in the melee while the sisters decoded they would try their luck in archery. Their bows were already in Ren's tent, all wrapped up on their silk wrappings and safely locked away in their respective hardwood cases.
Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. Ryssa guessed that it all must have taken Sansa's breath away. The girl truly did live in a dream world. All the knights fettling around were another thing the younger girl was definitely drooling about. She and Jeyne, along with Septa Mordane, had asked the sisters if they would like to join them in the litter they were to be brought to the tourney in and gave the older girls looks of surprise and disgust when they had said that they would rather go riding on their horses.
They left their horses with one of the guards by Ren's tent, who tied the large horses next to Royal, Ren's horse, and went to their designated seats watching many of the knights from various stories and songs. A little to their right, Sansa and Jeyne Poole were seated, both giggling and whispering about all the knights passing by.
The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armour the colour of milk, their cloaks as white as freshfallen snow. Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion's-head helm and a golden sword. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, thundered past them like an avalanche.
"A big man," Nia noted in her usual monotone voice.
"You don't say," Ryssa returned with sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Nia pointed out Ser Yohn Royce to Ryssa. ""His armour is bronze, thousands and thousands of years old, engraved with magic runes that ward him against harm," she told Ryssa. They saw Ser Jason Mallister, in indigo chased with silver, the wings of an eagle on his helm, and the warrior priest, Thoros of Myr, in his flapping red robes. "Isn't he the man Father told us about? You know, the one that scaled the walls of the Pyke with a flaming sword in hand?"
"You're right," Ryssa said upon closer observation. "I wanted to do that when I was young, remember?" Nia nodded with a smile at Ryssa.
Most of the other knights were unknown to the sisters; hedge knights from the Fingers and Highgarden and the mountains of Dorne, unsung freeriders and new-made squires, the younger sons of high lords and the heirs of lesser houses. Younger men, most had done no great deeds as yet.. Ser Balon Swann. Lord Bryce Caron of the Marches. Bronze Yohn's heir, Ser Andar Royce, and his younger brother Ser Robar, their silvered steel plate filigreed in bronze with the same ancient runes that warded their father. The twins Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, whose shields displayed the grape cluster sigil of the Redwynes, burgundy on blue. Patrek Mallister, Lord Jason's son. Six Freys of the Crossing: Ser Jared, Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell, Ser Emmon, Ser Theo, Ser Perwyn, sons and grandsons of old Lord Walder Frey, and his bastard son Martyn Rivers as well.
Ryssa was intrigued with Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night. She had heard he was to participate in the archery contest and Ryssa admitted that he looked like he might be tough competition for the two sisters.
The Hound entered the lists as well, and so too the king's brother, handsome Lord Renly of Storm's End. Jory, Alyn, and Harwin rode for Winterfell and the north, while Damien, Harreld and Simon were to take part in the melee with Therenger. All of the Forgehammer men had silver armours with a light tint of blue, each armour hand crafted by its wearer, with helmets that had small wings and designs that looked like flamed on their breastplates and cloaks of heavy scarlet wool that had a flame border, the flames turning into feathers the closer to the middle of the cloak. Therenger's armour was a deep red, flame and feather designed carved into each and every piece, the helmet with wings larger and more realistic than those of the knights and the scarlet wool cloak with abstract embroidery of flames on the border. His masterfully crafted Valyrian steel blade hung at his hip.
The jousting went all day and into the dusk, the hooves of the great warhorses pounding down the lists until the field was a ragged wasteland of torn earth. The sound made Ryssa sleepy as she remembered all the times she spent out in the paddocks, where they kept the horses, playing with the herd, riding Wynter bareback with Argento playfully following them and nipping at Wynter's hooves in mock attack. More than once had she spaced out for so long that she was only brought back by Nia elbowing Ryssa in her ribs.
The Kingslayer rode brilliantly. He overthrew Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings, and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy, who had won his first two tilts against men thirty and forty years his junior.
Sandor Clegane and his immense brother, Ser Gregor the Mountain, seemed unstoppable as well, riding down one foe after the next in ferocious style. The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The young knight fell not far from where the sisters were seated. The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armour was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the colour of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one.
Ryssa only shook her head with a blank expression while Nia stoically said: "Poor boy, he never saw it coming."
Both sisters were completely unfazed by the sight of blood while most of the women and children in the audience became hysterical. They were raised as warriors and faced blood and death on a daily basis. It was only a part of their normal life.
After they carried off the body, a boy with a spade ran onto the field and shovelled dirt over the spot where he had fallen, to cover up the blood. Then the jousts resumed.
Ser Balon Swann also fell to Gregor, and Lord Renly to the Hound. Renly was unhorsed so violently that he seemed to fly backward off his charger, legs in the air. His head hit the ground with an audible crack that made the crowd gasp, but it was just the golden antler on his helm. One of the tines had snapped off beneath him. When Lord Renly climbed to his feet, the commons cheered wildly, for King Robert's handsome young brother was a great favourite. He handed the broken tine to his conqueror with a gracious bow. The Hound snorted and tossed the broken antler into the crowd, where the commons began to punch and claw over the little bit of gold, until Lord Renly walked out among them and restored the peace.
Later a hedge knight in a checkered cloak disgraced himself by killing Beric Dondarrion's horse, and was declared forfeit. Lord Beric shifted his saddle to a new mount, only to be knocked right off it by Thoros of Myr. Ser Aron Santagar and Lothor Brune tilted thrice without result; Ser Aron fell afterward to Lord Jason Mallister, and Brune to Yohn Royce's younger son, Robar.
In the end it came down to four; the Hound and his monstrous brother Gregor, Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, and Ser Loras Tyrell, the youth they called the Knight of Flowers.
Ser Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. His plate was intricately fashioned and enamelled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd. Both sisters had received one at some point of the day which surprised even them. Mostly, because of the larger than normal amount of kohl lining their eyes; they were going for a more fierce look that day.
His last match of the day was against the younger Royce. Ser Robar's ancestral runes proved small protection as Ser Loras split his shield and drove him from his saddle to crash with an awful clangour in the dirt. Robar lay moaning as the victor made his circuit of the field. Finally they called for a litter and carried him off to his tent, dazed and unmoving. They saw Sansa blush when the white horse stopped in front of her.
While other girls got only white roses, Sansa was given a red one. Ryssa couldn't hear what Ser Loras was saying to Sansa, but judging from the look she got in her blue eyes, it was something 'charming'. Turning to each other, the sisters gave a good-natured sigh and eye roll at the young girl. She truly was naïve and Ryssa could only hope it would never again bounce off her head.
Later, when the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee. While the commons began their walk home, talking of the day's jousts and the matches to come on the morrow, the court moved to the riverside to begin the feast. Six monstrous huge aurochs had been roasting for hours, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the pavilions, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread.
Despite being invited, the sisters politely declined coming to the feast and rather opted for going to Therenger's tent where they were roasting a buck they had caught on the way to the city in front of the tent. There were no chairs or table, they sat around the fire either on some logs or the ground, laughing and drinking. There was no need for a lavish feast if you were with your friends and loved ones.
The entire night, they spent joking around and playing games. They even played cards at some point, various drinking games, sang, danced and overall, had a great time. Simon had somehow managed to steal some lemon cakes and other sweets that he gave to Ryssa and Nia.
Somehow, they had even managed to find some instruments and started playing music for the sisters who, laughing and grinning all the while, sang and danced around the fire.
Chuaigh mé isteach i dteach aréir
Is d'iarr mé cairde ar mhnaoi an leanna
Is é dúirt sí liom "Ní bhfaighidh tú deor
Buail an bóthar is gabh abhaile"
I came by a house last night
And told the woman I am staying
I said to her:
"The moon is bright and my fiddles tuned for playing"
Tell me that the night is long
Tell me that the moon is glowing
Fill my glass I'll sing a song
And will start the music flowing
Never mind the rising light
There's no sign of day or dawning
In my heart it's still the night
And we'll stay here till the morning
Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,
solas ard atá sa ghealaigh.
It's not day nor yet awhile
I can see the starlight shining
Níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,
solas ard atá sa ghealaigh.
Fill the glasses one more time
And never heed the empty bottle
Turn the water into wine
And turn the party up full throttle
Don't go out into the cold
Where the wind and rain are blowing
For the fire is flaming gold
And in here the music's flowing
Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,
solas ard atá sa ghealaigh.
Tell me that the night is long
Tell me that the moon is gleaming
Fill my glass, I'll sing a song
And we'll keep the music streaming
Until all the songs are sung
Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,
solas ard atá sa ghealaigh.
Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin,
níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill,
solas ard atá sa ghealaigh.
That night, the sisters had stayed in Therenger's tent since they were too tired to return to the Red Keep, banishing Therenger to sleep on the floor. They were at least kind enough to give him a pillow; none of them used a blanket of any kind to cover themselves. It was too warm for them.
Ryssa and Nia lay on the large bed together. It was the fastest Ryssa had fallen asleep since she had left home. That night she dreamt of the paddocks and of the Wall.