Of White Trees and Blue Roses
I own nothing. This all belongs to GRRM, and I'm just playing with the story he gave us.
~X~
Chapter Thirteen – The Knight of the Laughing Tree Rides Again
Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Jamie Lannister stood by Prince Rhaegar's side as he waited for the Knight of the Laughing Tree to arrive. Considering that two days of jousting had already passed, and most contenders would have been vanquished on their first or second joust, the room was cramped and crowded.
Everyone was curious about the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and who could blame them? It was that same reason that the prince was here himself, when he would usually send someone to represent him instead.
Today he would joust against his friend, Arthur, as he had intended yesterday. It seemed that yesterday's challenger, Ser Brandon, was still incapacitated, though strong enough to dismiss the maester the prince had sent.
Rhaegar turned and looked at young Ser Jamie, in his shining new armour and pristine white cloak. This morning, before his father had awoke, Rhaegar had requested that the Lannister boy accompany him. He wanted to watch his reaction when the mystery knight arrived.
As he looked, he pitied Ser Jamie. The king had him by his side at all times, and yesterday he had treated the youngest knight of the kingsguard as little more than a cupbearer. Rhaegar wondered how long it would be before the humiliations got worse; Ser Jamie was still but a boy, and had done no wrong other than being the oldest son of a very capable Hand.
Scanning the room, Rhaegar found many on his list of possible candidates for wearing the patchwork armour. He was surprised to see Benjen Stark stood with his older brother, Eddard, and Lord Robert Baratheon. They were obviously here to satisfy their curiosity as none of them were competing.
Part of Rhaegar was a little relieved-little Benjen was the closest fit he'd found for his dream of the ice knight on the dire wolf. Maybe it had just been a dream after all, though it had reoccurred every night since. Still, it was nice to think that Rhaegar wasn't about to have his chest skewered on a Stark's lance.
And then the murmurings of the crowd grew louder, a path appearing through the centre as the knight everyone was waiting for made his way to the clerk keeping the lists.
Most definitely a boy, Rhaegar thought, and saw Ser Jamie's brow wrinkle once the Knight of the Laughing Tree clanked past. Now what could be the meaning of that?
The knight reached the table, and projecting and deepening his voice so much it was obvious, he shouted, "Good morning."
The room's amusement at this simple greeting was apparent. The way the knight looked around and waited for the laughter to stop seemed to suggest the mystery knight was also amused.
Rhaegar could have sworn that the small slit in the visor hesitated in his direction, the eyes only partially visible behind, but then the prince realised that he was stood with Ser Jamie. The two were familiar with one another, and Ser Jamie was smirking, even if his face held a slightly bemused expression.
"I am here to make my challenge. You still have my list I assume? I understand both knights won their rounds yesterday."
"You are correct," the clerk confirmed. "Though it seems that youwon more through an incompetent opponent rather than through proving you had any skill."
All eyes in the room sought out Ser Leslyn Haigh. He was stood at the back, his face bright red and his accompanying squire looking sufficiently shamed.
"That is true, but you need only be slightly better to defeat a knight with a poor seat when the gods are on your side," the Knight of the Laughing Tree explained. "Rest when you can rest. Walk when you must walk. Run only when you must run."
The knight paused a while for the cheers and jeers to fade.
"I assure you that I will rise to meet and surpass the competition. Should I defeat them both and become one of the final champions, then I will joust as if I was the Dragon Knight himself born again!"
Even Prince Rhaegar had to smile at the young knight's bravado. The clerk seemed less amused.
"Then who do you wish to challenge today, good Ser," the clerk asked. "Ser Bryen Blount or Ser Aenys Frey?"
Both knights were stood with their squires. Ser Bryen sneered and whispered something to his younger but equally wide and coarse-looking brother, Boros, also a knight. Ser Aenys' watery eyes circled with red expressed no emotion.
After the Knight of the Laughing Tree had finished weighing them up, he yelled, "Today I wish to challenge Ser Bryen of House Blount, and I hope that Ser Aenys will save his third and final joust for me tomorrow?"
"You won't make it to tomorrow," Ser Boros Blount heckled and many others laughed with him, including his brother.
Ser Aenys only nodded and said nothing, instead giving his squire—obviously another Frey judging by his look—a pointed stare.
The clerk lowered his head and wrote in his book.
"Then it is settled." The Knight of the Laughing Tree rested his hand of the hilt of his sword casually. "My lords and good sers, my prince, I beg your leave. You see, I must go polish my armour."
The room roared with laughter as the mystery knight nodded in Prince Rhaegar's direction then made his exit.
Arthur leaned over and whispered in Rhaegar's ear, "The Knight of the Laughing Tree seems to have gotten infinitely cockier since he first entered. It's amazing how much confidence a boy can gain from one stroke of good luck."
Prince Rhaegar nodded. If the young knight wasn't careful he could be seriously hurt. Ser Bryen was a powerfully built man.
~X~
Once he had shown to Ned, Robert, and everyone else who might have looked his way that he was highly entertained by the spectacle, Ben ran to the godswood as fast as he could.
When he got there he found Howland still in the process of helping Lyanna out of her armour.
"Good work," he said and then joined in unfastening the rusty breastplate. The sooner she was out of the armour, the quicker he could put it on. He understood the reasons behind Lyanna wanted to play the part this morning, but to see how comfortable she was taking on his secret identity had made him more than a little jealous.
Still, it would be him that wore the disguise for the best part of the whole adventure. After yesterday's win Ben had felt ten feet tall—until Lyanna had dragged him back down to earth. Though he had to be thankful for her help, without which he wouldn't have gotten this far.
Once he and Howland had both managed to lace up the back of Lyanna's gown—a task trickier than it first seemed—and then his sister and his friend helped him become the Knight of the Laughing Tree, he felt much less jealous of Lyanna's performance.
Howland donned his brown, dung-smelling coat, and Ben was beamed wide beneath his visor. Lyanna decided that she would stay in the godswood that day, and as Ben was jousting early, both she and Howland could help him change sooner, so all three could be seen at the tourney field together.
Taking the long way out of the godswood, Ben allowed Howland to ride with him until they came across the sea of tents and people. This time there were more cheers and less rude comments, and that made Ben's chest swell with pride.
Arriving at the tourney field as a defeated knight passed by in a foul mood, Ben paused a while to make sure Ser Bryen made his entrance first.
Once the noise had died down, Benjen allowed his horse to canter onto the field, and did a quick lap with his hand held high in greeting, before both he and Ser Bryen paused in front of the king.
Waving them away, for a moment Ben thought that King Aerys glared in his direction, before turning and saying something quietly to his kingsguard knight, Ser Jamie Lannister. Panicking for a second, he wondered if the boy in white would implicate his sister, but then the king's bored expression returned and both competitors took their positions.
Howland handed Ben his lance and tapped him on the knee. "Good luck," he whispered.
The gods are on my side...how much more luck do I need? thought Ben, but then stared at huge Ser Bryen as he pulled down his visor. His shield was two black porcupines on green and red, and his dark armour was decorated to suit—he made an imposing figure.
Wanting to take the initiative, Ben drove his horse forward, a hundred things to remember about jousting running through his mind. Gripping his horse and trying to keep himself as firmly seated as possible, he lowered his lance and struck the uppermost Blount porcupine on his opponent's shield. While his lance cracked and broke apart, he felt a blow unlike any he'd ever known to his left shoulder.
As Ser Bryen's lance cracked, the air flew out of Ben's lungs and for a second the world spun. By some miracle he managed stay in the saddle, and with a groan he took a deep breath. Noise echoed in his ears, sounding so muffled and distant that he wasn't sure it was real.
Then a second lance was thrust into Ben's hand, and remembering where he was and what he was doing, he steadied his now nervous horse and charged forward again.
Too dizzy to think too hard, he lowered his lance. This time Ser Bryen hit the painted weirwood tree. Ben's own strike at first hit the green and red shield again, but started to slide across its surface towards Ser Bryen's torso.
Ser Bryen shifted his body and shield to avoid the blow as splinters flew into the air. In slow motion, as the horses got closer on opposite sides of the fence, Ben watched the dark knight twist in his saddle and begin to lean backwards. Then he passed beyond Ben's narrow field of vision.
Reining up his horse as best as he could, he then turned them around, mentally chanting, "Please fall, please fall."
A wash of pain and relief flowed over him as he saw a riderless horse on the other side of the field, and then a dark heap in the dust.
Howland ran up. "Ser! Ser, are you all right?"
Panting and grimacing, Ben managed to squeeze out, "Yes," and then after a few more pants he asked his acting squire to lead him to where Ser Bryen was slowly getting to his feet.
This time he didn't wait for his vanquished opponent to speak.
"Keep your horse and your armour." Ben forced himself to raise his voice, realising that those in the stands would hear him struggling. "The only ransom required is that you teach your squire honour."
Bowing in the direction of the fallen knight and the king, Ben then quickly left the field, feeling more and more nauseous by the minute. Howland jumped up behind him and helped bring him back to the godswood where Lyanna was waiting.
Almost falling out from the horse, Lyanna and Howland caught Ben before he hit the ground, and then tentatively began removing his armour.
"There's no blood," Howland commented.
Lyanna undid the straps under Ben's armpit which sent shooting pains throughout his body, causing him to lean to the side and finally empty the contents of his stomach into the grass.
As she ran her fingers through his hair, Lyanna asked Howland if he thought it might be broken.
Once out of the armour, Howland winced as he looked at Ben's hunched up shoulder. "It's dislocated. Wait a moment—I know how to fix this."
Lyanna carefully held onto Ben as Howland ran off and then came back with a short, smooth stick. Both Starks looked at him in puzzlement until he placed it in Ben's mouth.
"Hold him tight, Lyanna," Howland instructed, before putting a hand on his shoulder and holding Ben's wrist with the other. "One, two, three..."
As Howland gave a swift, sharp yank, there was a loud crunching sound, and the yelp that Ben gave almost broke Lyanna's heart.
Tears ran down Ben's face but after a few more deep breaths, he began to look a little less ill than he had. Helping him to his unsteady feet, his sister looped her arm around his on his good side.
"Can you walk? We need to get you back to the castle before the jousting is over, and anyone sees you like this."
Ben nodded.
"I can put all of this away," Howland said. "I think the Knight of the Laughing Tree's tournament is over." A sad smile grew on the crannogman's face. "Thank you, Ben. If it wasn't for you, those squires would have gotten away with what they did. I just wish you hadn't gotten hurt in the process."
"Still one more..." Ben croaked.
"Oh, no you don't," Lyanna scolded as she began to lead him across the grass to the entrance of the godswood. "You're in no condition to be lifting a lance."
Ben couldn't muster up the energy to disagree.
~X~
Prince Rhaegar rode with his entourage, side by side with his opponent, laughing and joking. It was only by chance that, as he happened to pass by the entrance to the godswood, that he saw two figures exiting. No doubt he was the only one who cared to notice as others lost themselves in pageantry and the excitement of two friends who would be jousting against each other for the honour of being one of the champions on the final day.
A girl and a boy who almost looked like dark-haired twins from a distance walked arm-in-arm, and briefly, the girl's eyes met his. Rhaegar's chest felt constricted, and feeling uncomfortable with this development he shifted his gaze to the boy, who was holding himself very stiffly.
Recognising them as Lyanna and Benjen Stark, Lyanna ever so slightly the taller of the two, Rhaegar wondered what it was that had happened for the boy to walk so.
It was later, after winning a very evenly matched contest with Arthur, that Rhaegar was told about how the Knight of the Laughing Tree fared in his match.
Realisation hit him like a tidal wave as he put together Benjen Stark's injury, their exiting of the godswood, which would of course have a white weirwood at its heart, and how the boy had could have been present at the same time as the mystery knight entered the lists.
As Rhaegar had beaten three challengers and would not need to joust again tomorrow, he decided that he would lie in wait in the godswood, to see if his suspicions were correct. After all, if the Starks were defending the crannogman's honour, there was still one knight to be challenged...