AN: We're back in King's Landing for this chapter, and it's time for the Hand's Tourney. In case anyone is wondering I have yet to decide on who Silas will be getting romantically involved with although some may think that my mind is already made up with how Silas is interacting with a character in this chapter. I may pursue this pairing, I may not, we shall see.
Anyway this is quite a long chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. It was fun for me to write this chapter, and I hope it'll be fun for you all to read.
As ever, I do not own GoT or ASoIaF, they belong to GRRM and HBO.
Chapter Seven
Silas Baratheon
It was the morning of the Hand's Tourney, and Silas was walking down to the stables where his horse was kept. He was looking forward to the melee which would be held tomorrow, but the 'main event', the joust, was being held today. Silas had awoken just before dawn, and had bathed before having his breakfast with his mother and father. Myrcella had joined them just after Silas arrived, along with Tommen. Joffrey was nowhere to be found, and as Cersei was debating whether or not to send a servant to go and look for him a maid came running in telling them that Joffrey had been sick this morning and was not feeling well enough to go and see the tourney. Silas suppressed a laugh as his father decided that Joffrey shall remain in his quarters, and sent word for Pycelle to check on him. Silas of course knew that this would happen after hiring someone to put a very small dose of a poison that would not be detected in his brother's cup of water. The poison in question was non-lethal in small doses, and would leave its victims sick so long as the victim is not exposed to it on a regular basis. The last time Silas did that to Joffrey was three years ago at Cassana's nameday tourney; Joffrey was insulting Robb during the whole of the first day, and Silas had had enough of his rudeness, so took matters into his own hands. It was good fortune that he had used a poison that would not be detected easily, and Pycelle only failed to realise it because Silas told him that Joffrey had over indulged in the food that had been served at the feast. After the announcement that Joffrey would not attend the tourney Silas finished his breakfast before going back to his rooms and changing into more formal attire; he pulled on his black leather trousers and the black riding boots that he usually wore before shrugging on his black and gold doublet. Once his clothes were on he grabbed his hunting knife which his father had given him after his coming of age hunt when he turned fourteen. He secured it to his belt before going to retrieve his sword, which he would also take with him. His mother tried to make him leave it behind, but he would never leave the Red Keep without his blade. He may have the Kingsguard and his sworn shield, but he always felt safer with his sword on his hip. Once he had armed himself Silas had left his rooms and gone to the stables.
As he approached the stables Silas saw Summer wander over to him, spooking a couple of horses that were not yet used to his presence. The direwolf stopped next to him and nudged his snout into Silas's arm.
"Hello boy," Silas said to the wolf as he petted him. Summer was quite big, and height wise came up to just below Silas's shoulder. Bran came running out of the stables, panting as he came to a halt.
"My prince," he said formally, bowing to him. Silas laughed.
"No need for formalities Bran, how many times must I say it?" he asked. At that point Ser Lukas walked out, leading two horses.
"That'll be my influence Silas," he stated with a grin. "Bran takes his lessons to heart, especially the ones about formality." Silas looked down to the young Stark and gave him a small smile.
"I suppose you are being overworked by my sworn shield then?" he asked. Bran just smiled.
"It's hard work and can be quite painful if I'm not careful, but I'm content with this Silas," he answered. Silas smiled at him before ruffling his hair. Bran huffed at having his hair ruffled, but that only made Silas laugh.
"The lads have saddled your horse Silas," Lukas said when Silas looked up at him. Silas nodded his head gratefully before walking into the stables. Two stable boys stepped away from the horse, bowing to Silas as he walked over to them. He thanked the two of them before sending them off with a silver stag each.
"Hey boy, did you miss me?" he asked his mount, who just neighed at him. Silas climbed onto the saddle and then grabbed hold of the reins. He urged the horse out of the stables and into the open, where he saw both Bran and Lukas already on their own horses, with Summer not too far away. "Shall we?" Silas asked as he led the way to the grounds where the tourney would be held.
On the ride to the tourney grounds Silas found himself riding with his father, who sat astride his massive warhorse, as well as Myrcella and Tommen, who were both riding ponies. Their mother was being carried to the tourney in a litter, which Silas never liked as he sees travelling in such a manner as far too pompous. After riding for ten minutes with their guard detail they met up with Sansa and Arya, who were both riding their own ponies. The Stark girls were being escorted by Jon as well as several Stark guardsmen. The two groups greeted each other before continuing on to the grounds.
"Where's your father today?" Robert asked them. It was Sansa who answered him, turning to look over her shoulder.
"My lord father has important work to see to your grace," she said. "He said that he will come to watch the events tomorrow." With that explanation given Robert nodded his head and looked towards the grounds. Silas cantered his horse closer to Sansa. Once there he cleared his throat to gain her attention. Sansa looked his way and smiled widely.
"So is this your first tourney to watch then Sansa?" he asked her. Sansa nodded her head.
"It is Silas," she said. The old Sansa would have addressed him as 'my prince', but it seems that over the last few years Sansa has begun to change from a stiff lipped young girl to a friendlier, more caring young lady who knew when to observe proper protocol and when to be informal. "I was meant to travel down here for your sister Cassana's nameday tourney just over three years ago, but I never made the trip." Silas remembered that time, when Robb had told him that Sansa was meant to go with him but had decided not to make the journey.
"What changed your mind?" he asked her. At that Sansa looked away from him. Silas noticed that Sansa's face had gone cold, as if remembering a foul memory. She was silent for a long time, and did not speak until Silas had begun to think that she was not going to answer.
"Something unpleasant had taken place, and I could not travel down from Winterfell," was all she said to him. Silas felt a shiver run up his spine, and could not help but think back to when they had passed by the Twins while coming back from the North. When they had travelled past the seat of House Frey Sansa had become extremely uncomfortable, and kept her siblings and some extra guards close to her. It was almost as if she were afraid of the Freys. As soon as Sansa had finished talking Arya turned to look at Silas.
"Why aren't you taking part in the joust Silas?" she asked him. Silas grinned at her, and from the corner of his eye he saw that Sansa had smiled a bit more as well.
"The joust is not my favourite event," he said truthfully. "I have never found jousting to be fun. For me, I much prefer to fight on foot, not on horseback. Also I've always preferred the melee, it's much more fun." Arya frowned at him.
"But the joust sounds like fun," she said, making Silas laugh.
"I bet you think that because it means riding a horse as fast as possible while trying to unhorse your opponent," he stated. Arya made a noise that sounded as if she were agreeing with him. After that the group looked ahead as they rode on to the grounds.
Once they reached the tourney grounds and dismounted their horses Silas and his companions made their way to the stands. Robert and Cersei walked to the royal box, with Ser Barristan beside them as well as two of the other Kingsguard knights. Ser Meryn was staying at the Red Keep to watch over Joffrey, while the other three knights would take part in the joust. Silas walked up to the seat where he would sit, and then he dismissed Lukas so he could prepare for the joust. Myrcella and Tommen sat beside each other on the chairs to their mother's left, while Silas took his seat on his father's right. Sansa and Arya had been invited by Silas to sit with his family, so they both sat on the guest seats that Silas had ordered to be set up for them. He smirked as he watched his mother stare wide eyed at the girls as they walked up with their direwolves following close behind them. Once they were seated Jon bowed to Robert before standing down from the stand to be beside the other men who were part of the guard detail. As Silas got himself comfortable Lady and Nymeria wandered over to him and began to whine at him.
"Oh gods be good," he muttered with a laugh as he leant over to pet them. Sansa laughed at her direwolf's antics, as did Arya.
"Come now Lady," Sansa said in a commanding voice. "Leave Prince Silas be." Lady reluctantly wandered back to her mistress.
"Nymeria, come here girl," Arya said. Nymeria looked over her shoulder before looking back to Silas and resting her head on his lap. Silas laughed at the stern look that Arya shot her companion. "Nymeria! Heel!" Arya snapped. The direwolf just looked up at Silas as if to tell him not to send her back to her mistress.
"Go on Nymeria," he said. "Go back to Arya." With the finality in his voice Nymeria huffed as she padded over to Arya, who gently grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and looked back to Silas and mouthed a quick 'thank you' to him. Silas smiled at her and nodded his head as the first competitors lined up to wait to begin the joust.
Silas leant forward in his seat so that he could easily talk with Sansa and Arya. As he did he saw the six knights that were gathered in front of the royal box. Three were unknown to him, so he paid them no heed, but the other three were known to him. First was his own sworn shield, Ser Lukas. Lukas wore his black and gold armour, with a plain helm and no sigil. The second knight was Beric Dondarrion, the Lord of Blackhaven in the Stormlands. The castle of Blackhaven was located in the Dornish Marches, near the Boneway; an ancient pass to Dorne that the various marcher lords have guarded for centuries before the War of Conquest by the Targaryens. The sigil of his House, the forked purple lightning bolt on black field speckled with four-pointed white stars, was displayed on his armour and his cloak. The third knight known to Silas was the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell. He sat astride his horse, holding himself with confidence in his brilliant shining armour. Silas shook his head slightly at Ser Loras's confidence, which to him conveyed a sense of arrogance.
"Who are these knights Silas?" Sansa asked him quietly. "I recognise Ser Lukas, but who are the other five?" Silas was about to answer when his father stood up from his seat.
"WE'VE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR DAYS! GET ON WITH THE BLOODY JOUST BEFORE I PISS MYSELF!" King Robert roared. Silas suppressed a smirk as numerous people laughed. He looked over his shoulder to see that his mother was not amused by her husband's outburst. Turning back around to face the competitors he looked at Sansa and cleared his throat.
"Three of the knights are unknown to me Sansa," he said. "But I can tell you about the other two. That one there is Lord Beric Dondarrion, the Lord of Blackhaven. He is a good warrior, like most from the Stormlands, but not the best at the joust. Maybe this time he shall do well. The other I know is that one in the shining armour, Ser Loras." He took a deep breath as he shuffled himself closer to Sansa. "Loras Tyrell is the third son of Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden. He is a skilled warrior, and is quite good at the joust, but he has cheated in the past." Sansa looked round sharply at him.
"How has he cheated?" she asked him.
"Once, a few years ago he switched horses before a semi-final. He rode a mare that was in heat to distract his opponent's horse, and so he won unfairly." Sansa looked horrified at Silas's explanation.
"There is no honour in such tricks," she said with a hint of disgust in her voice.
"True enough Sansa," Silas replied. "But quite a lot of gold was involved."
"Do I wish to know how much?" she asked as she looked back to the competitors.
"Probably not," he stated as four more knights rode their horses to present themselves to the royal box. When the knights were assembled the herald announced the ten men who were to start the joust. Silas watched as each man urged his horse forwards when their names were called out. First was Ser Loras, then Lord Beric, then Lukas. Then the others were announced.
"… Ser Hobber Redwyne of the Arbor, and his twin brother Ser Horas Redwyne of the Arbor…" The two identical knights urged their mounts forward and bowed to the King. "… Ser Patrek Mallister of Seaguard…" The third knight that Silas did not know rode forward and bowed. "… Ser Aron Santagar, master-at-arms of the Red Keep…" Silas saw the Dornishman who had helped to train him as a youth urge his horse forward and bow. "… Ser Andar Royce, Heir to Runestone…" Bronze Yohn Royce's eldest son went forward and bowed. "… Lord Bryce Caron, Lord of Nightsong…" The only living member of House Caron bowed after urging his horse forward. "… and Ser Perwyn Frey of the Twins." The tenth and last knight urged his horse forward. As Ser Perwyn bowed to his father Silas noticed that Sansa was glaring at him. He thought about asking about her attitude towards the Freys, but decided against it. The herald finished speaking and then the knights took their positions, five on one end of the field and the other five on the opposite end. After they were in position with their lances levelled the horns sounded, and then the field was filled with the sound of ten sets of hooves pounding into the ground as the ten competitors rode against each other. Silas watched as all ten lances struck true and broke against the shields that they hit, with all ten riders still atop their horses. The crowd cheered with delight; such a spectacle was considered a good omen for the tourney.
"That was incredible," Myrcella said from the other side of the box. Silas smiled at his sister's enthusiasm. The knights organised themselves again before taking new lances. They charged again, and this time three knights were unhorsed; Ser Hobber fell along with Ser Patrek, and Ser Aron fell from his horse after trying not to fall from his own mount. Silas chuckled while Tommen laughed at Ser Aron's poor luck.
For the rest of the day the joust goes on as Silas expects it to. Many take part in the joust, with plenty of knights and lords trying to make a name for themselves. Lord Beric earns much glory for himself by unhorsing many knights, including Ser Andar in one bout, before a hedge knight disgraces himself by killing Lord Beric's horse. Beric is given the hedge knight's horse and continues to unhorse many until he is defeated by Thoros of Myr. Jory Cassel did quite well too, better than his two fellow guardsmen who are unhorsed in their first bouts. Jory's first opponent was Ser Horas, who he unhorsed with ease. He then faced and defeated two more men before he goes up against Ser Perwyn Frey, who gives him quite a challenge. After four tilts Jory succeeds in sending Ser Perwyn flying from his mount, much to Sansa's delight. Sansa had clapped her hands eagerly when Ser Perwyn fell into the dirt. Arya had jumped up and cheered Jory on after that victory. He had a good run until he came up against Lothor Brune, who defeats him after their fifth tilt by hitting him in his shoulder and knocking him off of his horse. Sansa and Arya both offered him kind words despite his defeat. Other knights came and went, some going on to face other opponents while others were defeated. But then came the one man that Silas despises more than any other.
"Ser Gregor Clegane," the herald announced, and a giant of a man rode into view.
"Whoa," Arya muttered as she saw the beast of a man before them. Silas noticed that Sansa had a small shudder.
"That was my first reaction when my mother introduced me to him when I was a boy," he told her. Sansa looked at him with a concerned look in her eye.
"Who is he?" she asked. Silas sighed before answering.
"The Mountain that Rides," he said, and Sansa's eyes widened with understanding. "A brutal man with a penchant for killing and raping. He's my grandfather's mad dog." Arya leaned over Sansa's lap so she could see Silas clearly.
"That's the Mountain? The same man who…" she trailed off. Silas looked into her grey eyes and saw a hint of fear behind those eyes. He nodded his head, silently answering her unfinished question. This was the man who had murdered Prince Aegon by smashing his skull against a wall before he raped and murdered the Dornish Princess Elia Martel. Silas has hated that man since he was old enough to understand what he had done. As the Mountain bowed to the King another knight rode up.
"Ser Derrik of the Dornish Marches," came the herald's loud voice. The knight bowed as well, and then he and the Mountain took up their positions on either end of the field. Silas observed Ser Derrik; the young man wore chainmail with a hauberk over it, greaves, gauntlets, a half helm with a visor, and a poorly fitted gorget. Silas knew that if the Mountain saw that weakness then he would exploit it. Both men took their lances and spurred their mounts when the horns sounded. The horses thundered towards each other, and both knights passed each other, hitting their opponent's shield but not unhorsing them. They got to the opposite end of the field and turned to face each other. Silas leaned closer and heard Sansa breathing hard. She must have been terrified for Ser Derrik the way she was breathing. Silas watched as the two knights rode towards each other again, their lances levelled to hit the shield of the other. As he watched this Silas saw the Mountain's lance rise a little, and he knew exactly what was going to happen. You honourless bastard, he thought as the Mountain's lance hit Ser Derrik in the throat. The point of the lance broke as it hit the young man right in the middle of his throat, tearing the flesh and embedding itself in his windpipe. Silas heard Sansa give a small gasp as Ser Derrik dropped to the ground, despite hearing other ladies and common women scream in horror. He watched as the young knight coughed up his blood, the red fluid gushing out of his mouth and opened throat. After a few long agonising moments he was dead. Several men ran to the knight's prone form and began to drag him away. While they saw to their task the Mountain rode off the field; no one cheered him, but he would still compete. Silas knew that the Mountain had deliberately killed the young knight, as it was Gregor's nature to kill. He shook his head in disgust before looking at the Stark girls. Sansa looked on with a stern face, but Arya had paled at the sight of so much blood.
The joust continued after that incident, with more knights riding and unhorsing each other until only four were left; Ser Loras, Ser Arys of the Kingsguard, the Mountain, and Lukas. They would compete tomorrow for the semi-finals and then the final joust. Once the final joust was held then the two other events would take place; the archery competition and the melee. As the sun began to set the court made their way to where the feast would be held by the riverside. Six massive aurochs had been roasting for the last few hours on wooden spits, being turned slowly while the kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Strawberries, freshly baked bread and more were piled high on the tables that were set up outside the pavilions. Serving girls carried carafes filled with Dornish Red and Arbor Gold, filling wine cups when needed. Silas sat at the main table on his father's right, helping himself to several large pieces of auroch meat and some of the fresh bread. To his father's left sat Silas's mother, who had Myrcella sat next to her to talk with. Next to her was Tommen, who was busy stuffing his face while listening to Cersei and Myrcella's conversation. On Silas's right was Arya, who was eating her food slowly. Sansa sat beside her, engaged in conversation with Tyrion, who had been watching the joust from the other end of the stand to where the royal box was. Sansa laughed at one of Tyrion's japes as she fed a large chunk of meat to Lady. Nymeria whimpered at Arya, nudging her thigh as her mistress rolled her eyes.
"Big tough as nails beast my arse," Arya muttered quietly as she took some meat from her plate and gave it to her direwolf. Nymeria munched away gratefully as Arya hesitantly reached for more meat. After a moment she took a small piece. Silas smirked as he watched her put the meat onto her plate. For the next few minutes Arya ate her food quietly, looking thoughtful as she chewed the meat.
The silence continued for some time until Silas decided that he had had enough of it. Sansa and Tyrion were chatting away like two old friends, Robert stuffed food into his mouth and washed it down with wine, and Cersei and Myrcella conversed with each other while little Tommen just ate his fill. All the while Arya was quiet, looking like she did not want to be there just now.
"You're far too quiet tonight Arya," Silas said, making her jump slightly. Arya looked at him and gave a weak smile. She swallowed her mouthful before she spoke.
"I'm just not at all hungry," she said quickly. Silas looked at her and realised that she was holding something back. He took a long sip of his cup of Arbor Gold before leaning over to Arya.
"You looked deathly pale earlier today during the joust," he stated. "Right when the Mountain killed that knight."
"Ser Derrik," she cut in. "His name was Derrik, a knight from the Dornish Marches."
"Yes, he was," Silas slowly replied, not sure where his friend was going with this. She turned to face him and Silas noticed her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She blinked her eyes rapidly and took a deep breath.
"I knew it was possible for a man to die at the joust. My father always told me that these things happen. But to actually see it happen…" she trailed off. She looked down at her plate briefly before looking up at him. "That man looked no older than Robb, and now he will never be remembered. He'll just be another poor fool who had the misfortune of going up against the Mountain. His name will be forgotten in a few months' time, and in ten years' time it'll be like he never existed at all." Arya just shook her head in dismay. "How do people accept that?" Silas had no answer ready for that. He did not expect Arya of all people to catch him off guard with such an insightful comment. Gods has she grown up a bit, he thought to himself. He leant back in his chair and drew a deep breath which he then slowly released. After a quiet moment he put his hand on Arya's shoulder. He has known her for many years, and so knows how to be when around her compared to with other ladies. Where other young ladies want to do needle work, Arya wants to practice swordplay; where they wanted to sing songs of knights and maids, Arya wanted to belt out rowdy tavern songs; where they howled in tears whenever dirt got onto their dresses, Arya howled with laughter whenever she rolled in the mud. So Silas rested his hand on Arya's shoulder instead of her hand and gave her a gentle shake rather than a gentle squeeze. "Sorry Silas," she said after a moment. "It's just that… I just don't understand the bloody south at all." Silas smiled at that.
"I know what you mean," he said. "I've spent so much time travelling around the Seven Kingdoms. I've never set foot in Dorne or the Iron Islands because of the bad blood between us and them, but I've seen the beauty of Highgarden and the magnificence of the Eyrie, the splendour of Casterly Rock and the robustness of Storms End. I've drank your uncle Ser Edmure Tully under the table, and been put in my place by your great-uncle the Blackfish, who laughed at my attempts to knock him off of his horse." Arya laughed as Silas told her that, no doubt picturing in her head the image of Silas trying to unhorse Ser Brynden Tully. Silas grinned at her as she laughed. When she calmed down he continued. "I have overlooked the Vale of Arryn from the heights of the Eyrie while listening to Lord Jon Arryn regaling me with tales of our fathers' youth when the Targaryens still held the Iron Throne. I have sat beside my grandfather Lord Tywin Lannister as he discussed with me the finer points of ruling seven kingdoms whose bloody histories have seen them constantly at each other's throats, and we've debated on the various ways of trying to bring peace between these peoples." Arya looked at him with a serious look then. "And do you know what I have learned?" Arya sat up straight in her seat then as he took his hand away from her shoulder.
"Can't say that I do," she said. "What have you learned?" Silas remained quiet for a moment before he answered.
"It doesn't matter who we are," he said. "Stark, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, Tyrell, Martel, Greyjoy, Baratheon. We are all different, with our own histories and our own bannermen, but at the end of the day we are all a bunch of stubborn, obstinate men and women who will always try to improve our House's lot in life. It's the nature of the game of thrones; today the Houses of Stark and Tully are joined together through the marriage of your parents, but in a hundred years' time those Houses could become enemies over some small slight. My own grandfathers, both of them, were close friends in their own youth many years ago, and my paternal grandfather Lord Steffon was a cousin of the Mad King." Silas leaned in closer to Arya so that he could whisper in her ear and not draw his father's attention. "That makes my father kin to Prince Rhaegar, the man who took your aunt; the man my father killed at the Trident. Steffon Baratheon's grandfather Lord Lyonel the Laughing Storm rose up in rebellion when Prince Duncan Targaryen took another woman to wife instead of his daughter. Prince Duncan's father King Aegon the Fifth, also called the Unlikely, managed to settle the dispute by organising a trial by combat between the Laughing Storm and Ser Duncan the Tall, the hedge knight that he had squired for in his youth, who also served as the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. I think we both know the outcome of that dispute." As Silas finished talking there was laughter all around as a pair of fools played some childish jape on one another. When the laughter died down Arya took a swig from her cup.
"So what are you saying then Silas?" she asked as she took the cup away from her mouth. Silas looked at her then and realised that her free hand was playing with her necklace. It was a small thing that he had not noticed until now. It was a silver chain with a small circular pendant attached to it. Upon the pendant were the sigils of both of her parents Houses; the direwolf of Stark and the trout of Tully. "That it matters not what alliances we make now, for in the future we will be fighting each other?" Arya asked, drawing Silas back to their conversation. He shook his head slightly before he answered.
"If we do not understand and learn from the mistakes of those who come before, then we are doomed to repeat the brutal cycle of the game of thrones. If we don't learn from what has happened then we will be caught off guard and find ourselves at war, and then we will have thousands fall in battle and be forgotten like Ser Derrik will be after today. People will kill people all the time even after you and I are gone and buried. What we as nobles do with our responsibilities in our lives will determine if we will have thousands die in battle, or a handful die at a tourney." Arya opened her mouth to talk, but no sound escaped her. Silas's words to her had clearly made her stop and think. She looked away and watched the two fools as they played their japes and pranks. Silas waited until Arya was ready to talk rather than speak further. After a short time Arya stood up from her seat. She looked down at him and offered her hand.
"I realise that I have spent too much time thinking just now," she said. "So would you like to help me take my mind off of things and dance with me?" Silas just stared at her, dumbstruck at her question. After a moment he stood up and took her hand.
"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Arya Stark?" he japed. "First of all it's meant to be us men asking you girls to dance, and secondly I thought you don't dance?" Arya chuckled at Silas. It was a lovely sound that made him smile.
"Mother insisted that I learn some dances after my twelfth nameday," she said. "Father did not help, and neither did Robb or Jon." Silas laughed as he led her to where some other nobles of the court were dancing. "Anyway, shouldn't you be saying 'lords' instead of men and 'ladies' instead of girls?" Silas gave Arya a wide grin.
"Well I would've done, but you always whinge whenever someone calls you a lady," he said. Arya rolled her eyes.
"Oh shut up stupid," she said.
"Is that any way to speak to your Prince?" Silas said in a mock stern voice. Before Arya could answer the musicians changed the song and started a new tune, and then Silas took Arya in his hands and they both danced along to the song, laughing and japing away. For the rest of the night Arya was smiling and laughing, her mood improved from earlier.
Eddard Stark
Eddard looked out to the tourney grounds as he rode with his guard. Harwin had been unhorsed at the joust yesterday and returned to his duties beside him, and so was riding next to Eddard. The two of them stopped and dismounted their horses once they had reached the pavilion which Ser Barristan was stood outside of. The aged knight inclined his head to him as he walked up to him.
"My lord hand," he spoke. Eddard looked at the old knight and inclined his own head in return.
"Ser Barristan," he said. "Is this where Ser Derrik's body is?" The Lord Commander of Robert's Kingsguard nodded his head and led him inside. When they entered Eddard saw the Silent Sisters attending the lifeless body of the marcher knight. Eddard had heard from Lord Renly of what happened to the young knight. What did not surprise him was who his opponent had been. Gregor Clegane is known for his bloodlust, and has quite a kill count at tourneys. The dead knight laid out before Eddard was perhaps no older than Robb, and had red hair that was brighter than Sansa's hair. The wound on his neck had been stitched up by the Sisters, and Eddard could imagine the horror and pain that Ser Derrik would have gone through before he died. As he looked at the knight he remembered his conversation yesterday with Lord Stannis.
"Not attending your tourney then my lord hand," Stannis stated as he entered Eddard's solar in the Tower of the Hand. He looked up from the letter that had arrived that day from Winterfell. Robb had written to him to inform him of problems that Lord Bolton's bastard son was behind. A report of an entire village being wiped out in the North was unsettling, but Eddard hoped that Robb would be able to deal with the matter effectively. For now there was nothing that he could do to help Robb; he just hoped that Catelyn, Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin would give sound guidance to him.
"Putting my name to it does not make it my tourney," Eddard said as he put the letter down. Stannis looked at the letter briefly, but if he wondered as to its contents he did not make it known.
"You asked to see me?" Stannis asked as he stood in front of Eddard's desk. Eddard nodded his head and offered him a seat. Stannis sat down and got comfortable. A servant poured both of them a cup each of water before taking her leave. Once the servant was gone Eddard looked up to face Stannis.
"I have asked you here to discuss Commander Janos Slynt of the City Watch," he started. "I have reason to believe that he could be corrupt." Stannis looked at him with a grim look in his eyes, his face set into a serious stare.
"I can tell you that he is indeed corrupt," Stannis said, surprising him. "I have been trying to get evidence against that man for years, but every time I get any evidence someone else takes the fall, and then they turn up dead. I have some suspicion that Lord Baelish could be involved with him." Eddard nodded his head in understanding. "Can we trust each other in regards to dealing with these two men?" Stannis asked. Eddard looked at him and nodded his head.
"Prince Silas has made it clear that he believes Baelish to be up to something," Eddard said. Stannis nodded.
"My nephew has been looking into Baelish's loyalties for months," he said. "I do not know the extent of his own investigation, but I know that he has someone who is keeping him well informed. Whoever it is is irrelevant to me, so long as they don't bring harm to him. As to investigating Slynt, I have learned of someone who may be able to help us." Eddard straightened himself up in his seat.
"Who is this man, if I may ask?"
"A knight from the Dornish Marches called Ser Derrik," Stannis answered. "He is here in the capitol for the tourney. I have not approached him in case anyone watching me for Baelish should decide to silence him. All I know of him is that his brother served as a City Watchman for several years before he was forced to leave. Ser Derrik's brother left before I could speak to him, and the man might know where to find him. Like I said I dare not approach him, but you could." Eddard agreed with him. He could go to the man after the tourney was done and speak to him. No knight could refuse a summons from the Hand of the King after all, and it might bring Eddard closer to learning the truth behind Jon Arryn's death.
"I shall speak to him on the morrow," he said. "Can I rely on you for future support in my investigation?" he asked him, offering his hand. Stannis looked at Eddard for only a moment before he took his hand and shook it.
"You can, my lord," the Lord of Dragonstone said.
Eddard cursed the Mountain for killing Ser Derrik before he could speak to him. He woke up this morning ready to go and speak to him, only to learn from Renly as he rode to the tourney grounds that the knight had been killed. He was not at all happy with this, but he could not do anything now.
"Ser Gregor's lance broke when it had hit him in the throat," Ser Barristan had explained. "The boy was eager to prove himself, and said to be a fair swordsman, but it was clear that he was not ready for this."
"Are any of us truly ready?" Eddard asked the aged knight, who had no answer. Many men were never ready to face life-or-death situations; Eddard certainly was not ready the first time he entered battle. After looking at the body for another minute he looked at the Sisters. The women of the faith were working diligently on preparing Ser Derrik's body to be laid to rest. He gave his respects to them before he turned and left the pavilion. Ser Barristan followed behind him, followed by Harwin. "Who rides in the last matches of the joust Ser Barristan?" he asked.
"Ser Lukas Storm, sworn shield to the Crown Prince; Ser Arys of the Kingsguard, one of my sworn brothers; Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden, they call him the Knight of Flowers; and the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane." Eddard heard the disgust in Barristan's voice when he said that last name, as if saying the name were an ill omen. "I would have rode as well, but I fear I am well past my prime when it comes to the joust."
"You are still a fair sword though Ser Barristan," Harwin said from behind them. Eddard looked over his shoulder to the guardsmen, who was looking at the aged knight with reverence. Barristan smiled.
"Ser Arys may well become a superior swordsman once I am gone," he said. "But you are right young man, I am still one of the greatest swordsmen to walk Westeros, or so they say. Personally I feel like I am the least of such men." Eddard smiled at him.
"Still I am glad we did not cross swords at the Trident Ser Barristan," he stated. "If we had fought… well I don't think life as a widow would have suited my lady wife." Barristan gave Eddard a slight smirk.
"From what I have heard you are a skilled swordsman yourself Lord Eddard," he said. "Perhaps you might have been able to best me in combat, and you had the advantage of your father's sword."
"Very true," Eddard replied. "But a Valyrian sword does not make one a better swordsman." The old knight gave a small laugh.
"Indeed my lord."
After a few minutes of walking the three men stopped by the benches where Eddard found his daughters eating their breakfast. The girls had stayed in a pavilion overnight with their wolves as well as Jon and several guardsmen to protect them. Sansa waved at him as he approached, while Arya smiled widely while chewing her bacon.
"Morning girls," he said as he stood next to them.
"Morning father," they both chorused together. Arya swallowed her mouthful of food before looking up to Eddard. "Are you here to watch the rest of the tourney?" she asked innocently. Eddard gave her a small smile as he sat down.
"I shall leave you be my lord hand," Ser Barristan spoke.
"You don't have to leave on our account Ser Barristan," Arya said to him as he made ready to leave. The knight smiled at her.
"Unfortunately I am required to stand by the King," he said to her. "Good day to you my ladies, my lord." With that Ser Barristan left them. Eddard turned to look at his girls and joined them in their conversation. They spoke of the upcoming joust finals and who they thought would win. Arya believed that Ser Lukas would carry the day, while Sansa believed that Ser Arys could possibly go through. As they spoke Eddard thought of the last time he had been to a tourney; over twenty years ago, when his own father was still alive, and his brother Brandon, and Lyanna. It was the tourney at Harranhall, where Rhaegar had crowned Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty in place of his wife. The tourney where everything changed.
After the girls finished their breakfast Eddard led them to the royal box where Robert and Cersei sat with their two youngest children, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen. Joffrey was still sick from yesterday, although the Grand Maester assured them that he would make a speedy recovery. Silas however was nowhere to be seen. He had been present yesterday, but now he was not here. Eddard looked at Robert and cleared his throat.
"Where is Prince Silas your grace?" he asked. Robert laughed, as he always seemed to do these days.
"Ah Ned, don't be so bloody formal here," he said. "We are family after all, and others who would take offence at you using my name are not within the royal box and therefore have no say." After Robert finished laughing he took a quick swig of wine from his cup. Eddard still could not believe that his old friend was drinking at this hour. "Anyway as to where Silas is, you'll find out soon enough." Eddard frowned at his friend's cryptic answer but he did not question him further. He smiled at Queen Cersei before turning to face the grounds. As the girls settled down with their direwolves Eddard saw Jon standing in front of the box, looking at him with an anxious look. Eddard stood from his seat and quickly walked towards him.
"What is it?" he asked once he was in front of his son. Jon cleared his throat before he answered.
"Ser Andar Royce has asked me to pass along a message to you," he said quietly. "He wishes to meet with you at some point after the tourney is done. All he said was that it concerned the late Lord Arryn's lady wife and son." Eddard looked at Jon quizzically. After a moment he nodded his head.
"Very well. Did he say where?" he asked.
"Ser Andar said he would arrive at the Tower of the Hand after the last competition," Jon responded. Eddard gave his son a quick nod before going back to his seat.
"Trouble father?" Sansa asked as he sat down.
"We shall see Sansa," he replied.
The first match was between Ser Arys and Ser Loras. The two knights bowed to the King, both sitting upon their mares. Eddard noticed that Ser Loras looked most put off while the young Kingsguard was smirking. Sansa had told him earlier that Silas had explained to her how Ser Loras had cheated in a previous tourney by using a mare in heat. With Ser Arys mounted on a mare there was no danger of anyone being cheated. Soon both men took their positions at either end of the field and then the horns were blown, signalling both knights to begin. They charged at each other, passing one another three times without success. On the fourth tilt Ser Arys had unhorsed his opponent; the Knight of Flowers rolled in the dirt as the crowd cheered the Kingsguard. Ser Arys rode over to Ser Loras and offered him his hand to congratulate him on his efforts, and Ser Loras, being ever the honourable and gracious knight, accepted his congratulations and shook his hand. As both men left the field the next two competitors rode into view; Ser Lukas rode his stallion towards the royal box as Ser Gregor arrived on his own stallion. The two men bowed before taking their positions.
"A hundred dragons on the Mountain," Eddard heard Baelish call out. He looked off to the right where he saw the Master of Coin sitting several yards away.
"Against the Crown Prince's sworn shield?" someone asked. "The Mountain doesn't have a chance."
"Would you care to place a bet on that my good lord?" Baelish asked in a taunting manner. Eddard stopped listening to the two men as the horns blew once more, and the Mountain rode his horse towards Ser Lukas. Both men broke their lances against each other's shields, but neither fell from their mount. It was the same for six more tilts, with Lukas nearly falling off of his horse after the fifth tilt, but on the eighth tilt Lukas struck true and unhorsed the Mountain. The knight smacked into the earth, ploughing up dirt as he hit the ground. The crowd roared their joy when Lukas rode around the field, waving at the crowd. Eddard noticed that the Mountain was stood back on his feet, his helmet thrown to the side and his face contorted with anger. He glared at Ser Lukas before stomping off, shoving his squire out of his path as he stormed off.
"It is good to see the Mountain humbled so," Princess Myrcella said as she clapped her hands furiously, a wide smile lighting up her young face.
"Indeed my princess," Sansa said as she too clapped her hands at Lukas's victory. In the back of his mind Eddard could not help but think that it would have been better if Ser Gregor had not gotten back to his feet.
After several minutes the last two knights arrived in front of the royal box. Ser Arys and Ser Lukas both sat upon their horses. Ser Arys had changed his mare for a stallion, but otherwise both men were ready. Once the clapping had ended King Robert stood up.
"And so it comes down to these two fine knights!" he roared as loudly as he could for all to hear. "Let it be known that these two men shall leave the field this day with their coin purses heavier than normal! But whose purse shall be heavier? Let us see for ourselves! May the Seven watch over you!" After Robert spoke both men rode to their starting positions. Once their squires had given them their lances Robert spoke once more. "In the event that you both unhorse each other you shall decide on the victor by a trial by combat! Your squires shall give you your swords and you shall fight until one of you yields! BEGIN!" With Robert's words the horn-blower sounded the horn and then both knights rode against each other. They broke their lances upon their shields but stayed on their mounts. Both men rode again, hitting their opponent's shield but not unhorsing each other. Eddard was beginning to wonder if this was deliberately being staged for the commons to give them a good tale to tell their children in the future. After five tilts Lukas and Arys both struck each other, and Arys fell from his stallion. At the same time Lukas lost his balance and then he too fell. Some of the gathered crowd laughed, but most remained silent. As the two men stood up and dusted themselves off Eddard turned to face Robert, who looked amused at what had happened.
"BRAN! GET MY SWORD!" Lukas bellowed. Eddard watched as his boy dutifully ran over to Lukas with a hand-and-a-halfer in his hands. Ser Arys set his squire to the same task. Soon both knights had freed their swords from their scabbards and then they walked to stand before the royal box. After a moment Robert nodded his head, and then the two men began their dual. This is the real contest, Eddard thought. Both men hacked, stabbed, slashed, parried, thrust, blocked, slashed, jabbed and dodged as they fought furiously, both eager to claim the champion's purse. Neither man relented; Ser Arys parried a savage blow that was aimed at his head before he thrust at Ser Lukas's thigh; Ser Lukas slammed the flat of his blade down onto Ser Arys's sword and then he pushed his shoulder into him to throw him off balance. The two knights fought ferociously for the better part of half an hour until finally they both swung at each other's necks. Their blades stopped an inch away from the skin of the other, and both men froze. The commons remained silent, watching tensely as the knights stood their ground, staring at each other. In the end both men stood back and began to circle each other, until Ser Arys strode forward with his sword held high. Ser Lukas blocked the blow and pushed forward, and the young Kingsguard knight fell onto his rear, his sword flying from his hand.
"YIELD, I YIELD!" Ser Arys bellowed as his opponent pressed the tip of his sword to his throat. Ser Lukas stepped back and faced the royal box, a feral grin on his face. The crowd cheered as Robert proclaimed him the champion of the joust.
With the joust done the next competition went underway. The archery boards were set up and the competitors readied their bows, all eager to prove their marksmanship. Eddard watched some of those who took part with interest, and wondered if Arya was wishing she was allowed to take part. Arya had been taught some archery by Theon and Jon over the last two years, and Eddard had to admit that she was a skilled archer. They watched as one man in particular proved himself to be a rather skilled marksman. The man from the Dornish Marches loosed off arrow after arrow with unerring accuracy. After a couple of hours that same archer took the purse for the archery competition after proving himself to be the best archer this day. The man in question, who called himself Anguy, smiled as he accepted the winner's purse. Eddard was impressed with him, and made a mental note to ask the man if he would be interested in joining his household. The next competition to be held was the last one; the melee. This would be the event that Robert would enjoy the most. It took half an hour for all eighty-four of the combatants to assemble, but that gave Eddard a chance to see if he recognised anyone. He saw the Red Priest from Essos, Thoros of Myr, standing with a flagon of wine in his hand, his sword sheathed at his hip. Eddard remembered him from the Greyjoy Rebellion, the man had been the first one through the breach during the Siege of Pyke, and had slain many Ironborn during that fight. Although he was not fond of the man's religion he had immense respect for him. As well as Thoros there was Lord Beric Dondarrion, who had taken part in the jousts yesterday, and Lothor Brune, who stood opposite the Lightning Lord, and Bryce Caron, who had a lady's favour on his shield arm. Eddard also noticed several Freys gathered around. The one man who took Eddard's notice however was a man in full steel plate armour, which was black in colour. His helm was plain, with the visor pulled up to show his face, but the man hid his face behind a black scarf. A mystery knight trying his luck today, Eddard thought.
Once all of the combatants were assembled and armoured, Robert stood up and held his hand for silence. When everyone watching had fallen quiet he nodded his head to the herald, who began to go over the rules of the melee. Eddard listened as the various rules were given, and he noticed how some of the knights and lords, particularly those from the Stormlands, were fidgeting on the spot, all eager to fight. Due to the number of combatants it was decided that this melee would be fought on foot, which in itself was quite unusual. After several minutes of going over the rules the herald fell silent, and all eyes fell on Robert. Eddard watched as his King raised his hand above his head.
"BEGIN!" he bellowed, and the crowd cheered as twelve combatants surged forward, ready to fight.
"About time," Arya said quietly when two knights rushed each other. For the next twenty minutes the combatants attacked in waves until all were engaged. By the time the last men charged in three knights had yielded, one of them limping off the field as another clutched his arm while blood pumped out between his fingers. Eddard knew that any contest of arms was dangerous, but he had forgotten just how brutal a melee could be. The field was alive with the sound of steel clashing upon steel. Men grunted and yelled and cursed as they hacked and thrust and slashed at each other. It was indeed a brutal fight. The contest lasted for four hours, and during that time much had happened. A Frey knight had to be carried off as he lay unconscious from the fighting; Lothor Brune had defeated most of his opponents with skill; Lord Beric had bested many knights before he was floored by his friend Thoros, who mouthed a quick apology to him before he turned to face his next opponent with that fire wreathed sword of his. Eddard noticed that the Red Priest's sword was wreathed with normal fire, not the green flamed wildfire that he had coated his blade in during the Siege of Pyke.
As Thoros dealt with many opponents Eddard watched the black armoured mystery knight fighting several knights at once. Every man who challenged him put up a good fight, but all were defeated after a few minutes. As the melee neared its end the black knight stood to the side after defeating Lothor Brune, who he bested by disarming him with a strike to his wrist with the flat of the blade. The black knight watched as Thoros fought off the last two opponents, one a knight from Oldtown, the other a Westerlands knight. Eddard took the opportunity to observe the knight; he had black armour that was professionally forged and had no ornamentation to it at all; in his right hand he bore a hand-and-a-half longsword with a steel blade, again forged to an incredibly professional standard, with a simple cross guard and a solid round pommel; in the left hand he carried a large iron kite shield, which was engraved with seven figures around the edges (three on one side, three on the other and the seventh at the bottom point), and in the middle of the shield a tree with a carved face in its middle.
"That's interesting," Arya said.
"What is?" Sansa asked. Arya pointed to the mystery knight.
"That black knight's shield, do you see it?" Sansa nodded.
"You've seen the engraving on it Arya," Eddard stated. Arya nodded her head.
"The mystery knight is showing respect to both the old gods and the new," Arya said.
"What makes you say that?" Sansa asked. Eddard looked at his youngest daughter, intrigued as to how she came to that conclusion. Arya looked at both of them with a little smile.
"The tree in the middle with a carved face represents a weirwood tree, like the one back home," she said. "The leaves of the tree are at the top, while around the edges are seven figures." Sansa stared wide eyed at Arya before she looked at the mystery knight again. After a moment she slowly nodded her head.
"Yes, I see it now Arya," Sansa said. "Three on one side for the Father, Smith and Warrior, three on the opposite side for the Mother, Maiden and Crone…"
"And the one at the bottom of the shield, right in the middle beneath the tree, for the Stranger," Arya finished with a proud smirk on her face. Eddard smiled at her when she looked up at him.
"Very good my girl," he said, patting Arya's shoulder before he looked back to the fight to see that Thoros had bested his opponents and turned to face the mystery knight.
The last two combatants faced each other and began to pace around each other. The mystery knight lunged for Thoros, who stepped aside and then slammed his sword down against the knight's shield. As he did the knight pushed against his shield and threw Thoros back a little. The two of them stepped apart and began circling again. Eventually Thoros made his move, slashing his sword at the knight's neck, but the knight must have seen that blow coming as he stood forward and smashed his shield up before thrusting his own blade at Thoros's belly. The tip of the blade scratched the iron plate that Thoros wore, but other than that it did nothing. Thoros brought his own shield to bare and pushed the knight away and slashed at his back. Eddard could have sworn he heard the Queen give a gasp of shock, but when he turned to look at her she had her usual mask of disdain on her face. He turned back to watch the fight, a little frown on his face. The knight was still on his feet and had his right shoulder to Thoros, who then thrust his flaming sword at him. The knight jumped to the side and slammed his shield down onto Thoros's sword, pushing it into the ground as he dropped to his knees. The knight then dropped his own sword and grabbed Thoros's sword arm. He stood up and then pulled the Red Priest back and flung him several yards away. Thoros landed with a loud thump. As he struggled to get back to his feet the knight picked up the flaming sword that had fallen from Thoros's grasp and plunged it into the soft earth. After a few moments he looked towards Thoros, who was shaking his head in disbelief. Barely a minute later the knight pulled out the sword and threw it back to its owner. Thoros picked his sword up, but now the flames were extinguished, but still the crowd cheered as the Red Priest rushed his opponent.
Thoros went on the offensive, slashing his sword at the knight, only to find his steel hitting the iron shield. For a few minutes Thoros attacked while the knight only used his shield, blocking every blow that Thoros rained down upon him. Eventually Thoros over extended himself and he swung his sword overhead, only for the knight to step to the side, which resulted in Thoros falling forward. The Red Priest stayed on his feet, but in his efforts to keep his balance he could only raise his shield as the mystery knight brought his sword down again and again. Each blow was powerful enough to stagger Thoros, even if only slightly. After ten blows Thoros's knees began to buckle, and when the eleventh blow was delivered the shield was torn in two, the wood splintering. Thoros thrust his sword at the knight, and the tip sliced into the left arm where there was a gap in the armour. Eddard heard the knight grunt in pain as Thoros pulled his sword back. There was a little splash of blood, but Eddard noticed that it was on the outer part of the man's arm, and so it was only really a scratch that bled slightly. The knight's shield arm was not affected at all. Thoros raised his sword over his shoulder, but before he could deliver his swing the knight bashed his shield into him and swung his sword at Thoros's ruined shield. The force of the blow sent the shield out of his hand, and left him without protection, but Thoros did not yet yield. In a final effort Thoros kicked out at the knight's legs, but he was out of reach and kicked only thin air. In the next instant the knight swung his sword down, and Thoros of Myr found himself without a weapon as his sword clattered to the ground. Blood spurted from his sword hand from where the edge of the blade had hit the back of his hand. As the knight raised his sword over his shoulder, ready for the killing blow the Red Priest did the only sensible thing that he could do; he dropped to his knees and yielded the match.
The crowd cheered with delight as the mystery knight lowered his blade to accept Thoros's surrender. The knight helped the man back to his feet and patted him on the shoulder, no doubt offering his congratulations. Everyone in the crowd clapped their hands in applause as the knight walked towards the royal box. Even Eddard clapped along with Arya and Sansa. Robert was on his feet, chuckling as he clapped his hands.
"Well done, well done," he said. After a few minutes of applause the cheering subsided. The knight dropped to his knees and bowed to the King. "Remove your helm, and let all here see who you are." Eddard was not surprised at Robert's command, but even so it was normal for a mystery knight to keep his identity hidden unless defeated, which was usually the only way to reveal who a mystery knight is. Regardless the knight did as commanded and began to remove his helm. He lifted the visor first before he pulled the helm completely off, revealing a scarf that was wrapped around the head. Once the helm was placed on the ground the knight began to unwrap the scarf, keeping his head low. Only when the scarf was removed did he look up, and many of the court gasped, except for Robert and Cersei. His hair was damp from the sweat, and his face was covered in dirt and grime; his skin glistened with the coat of sweat, and some blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, but despite it all Silas Baratheon grinned widely at his father.
"Seven hells," Arya muttered in shock as Eddard's eyes widened. Robert chuckled quietly.
"You have done our House well this day Prince Silas," Robert's voice boomed for all to hear. "I knew you would make me proud. You have proven yet again that you are a true son of House Baratheon." Silas looked up at his father as he stood up.
"I told you I would take this lot down… your grace," Silas said enthusiastically before adding the last part. Robert closed the distance and embraced his son and heir, and the crowd erupted into cheers once more. Eddard joined everyone else in the royal box as they clapped their hands. He looked towards the Queen and noticed the sincere and respectful smile she was showing to him, which took him completely by surprise. Despite that he smiled back to her before looking at Silas who had released his father from their embrace and stepped forward to embrace his younger siblings, who were both laughing. As he did Eddard looked to his daughters, and he noticed that while Sansa was sniggering the way she did as a child whenever something amused her, Arya had what he could only describe as a look of longing as she stared at the Crown Prince with her mouth slightly ajar. Gods be good, he thought.
After the melee ended the tourney was brought to an end. Robert and Silas sat at the feast and celebrated for a short while, and Eddard and his girls sat with them. After an hour Silas decided that it was time for him to get some much needed rest. Robert reluctantly agreed after Cersei said it would be prudent for Silas to get himself looked at by the Grand Maester, a suggestion that made Silas visibly cringe. Eddard followed Silas on his trip back to the Red Keep, followed by Sansa and Arya. The journey took a short time with the streets practically deserted at this hour of the night. During the ride back Eddard spent some time talking with Bran who as Ser Lukas's squire had accompanied them on their return trip. Eddard learned that Bran was enjoying his time as a squire, even though it was hard work for him. The group ascended Aegon's High Hill and rode through the main gate into the Red Keep.
"Well, this is where we part ways this evening," Silas said, his mood still joyous. Eddard nodded his head.
"Indeed Silas," he said quietly. "Don't forget to get your arm looked at," Eddard added, pointing at Silas's arm. The Crown Prince looked down at his wounded arm and laughed. His laugh at that moment in time was very much like his father's laugh.
"Have no fear Eddard," he said. "I do not intend to be the Prince who lost his arm due to a little scratch earned at a tourney." Silas smiled at him before urging his horse to the stables of the Red Keep. He looked over to Eddard's daughters before he left. "I'll see you tomorrow, or whenever I next see you both my friends." Always so informal, just like his father, Eddard thought as the girls bid Silas goodnight. He's got some of his good traits at least.
"Goodnight father," Bran called out as he followed Ser Lukas.
"Goodnight son," he called out after him. As Silas and his group rode away Eddard led his daughters to the Tower of the Hand. As he rode through the gates he saw a young man with a familiar look to him waiting by the stables. Remembering Jon's words from earlier Eddard realised that this was Lord Yohn's son, Ser Andar. Andar looked a little bit shocked upon seeing the direwolves, but they paid him no heed. Eddard dismounted his horse and walked over to the young knight and heir to Runestone.
"My lord hand," Andar said as he bowed to him.
"Ser Andar of House Royce," Eddard said by way of greeting. "I was not expecting you to arrive in such a manner, otherwise I would have left instruction for you to be given some refreshments." The young Valeman gave a slight smile.
"I apologise for the means of passing along my message my lord," he said. "But truth be told I am not overly pleased with myself in regard to how I have thus far conducted myself. I am not used to dealing with… sensitive matters the way I am forced to just now." Eddard took Andar's hint and turned to face Jon, who was joined by Jory as he walked over to him.
"Jon, see the girls to bed just now please," he asked his son, who nodded and rushed to obey. "Jory, you know what to do." His guard captain nodded and turned to deliver orders to the garrison. Eddard turned to look at Andar and signalled him to follow him into the Tower.
Half an hour later both men were sat down in Eddard's solar, each with a cup of mead in their hands. As they sat Eddard looked at Andar and took in his appearance. Andar had slate-grey eyes much like his father Lord Yohn, as well as short dark hair. His face was clean shaven, and his eyebrows while big are not as bushy as Eddard remembers his father's to be. Andar was young, but older than Robb by at least five years. Eddard remembers that Andar has a younger brother, Ser Waymar, who travelled through Winterfell four years ago to join the Night's Watch. Ser Waymar was a year older than Robb, and quite eager to join the Watch from what Eddard remembered.
"So you are here in relation to my good-sister and nephew?" he asked to get the conversation started. Andar put his cup of mead down and nodded his head.
"Indeed my lord," he began. "My lord father has sent me here with a letter for your eyes only. I have not read it, but I am well aware of its contents, as well as the seriousness of my father's accusation." As he spoke Andar held out a scroll to Eddard, which he took. He examined it and saw the seal of House Royce still fixed to the scroll. Eddard broke the seal and unrolled the long letter.
To Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King,
My friend it has been a while since we last spoke, but I must bring ill news to you. I have sent my eldest son and heir to you not only to deliver my words but to also come under your protection. I ask that you accept Andar's service as I fear that to remain in the Vale at the moment will not be wise. I have been investigating the late Lord Arryn's wife and her dealings with Lord Baelish, who I understand sits upon the Small Council as Master of Coin. I have had reason to suspect Baelish's loyalty to the crown for many years, but recently I have discovered something that if true could have severe ramifications for House Arryn.
My lord I regret to inform you that I firmly believe that your good-sister the Lady Lysa Arryn has birthed a bastard son and falsely claimed him as Lord Jon Arryn's heir. My suspicions have been with me since meeting with young Lord Robert after his return to the Eyrie after Lord Jon's death. While he takes after his lady mother in his hair colouring much like most of your own children by Lady Catelyn do, his eyes do not come from either Lady Lysa nor Lord Jon. I hope to the gods that I am wrong, but if my belief is true then it means that the line of House Arryn has ended with Lord Jon.
I know that this is a grievous accusation that could ruin my own reputation and endanger my House. I have sent Andar to serve you as a knight, officially to show a strong bond between Houses Stark and Royce, but mainly to protect him should my investigation lead to my public disgrace and death. My second son Ser Robar has gone missing recently and I know not if he lives. If the situation worsens then I may have no choice but to send my daughters Ysilla and Lorra to King's Landing as well. If it comes to that then it means that my own life will be in danger, and so I would ask you to look after my family. If my line must continue exiled from the Vale so be it, but I will not let House Royce end with me.
Your friend,
Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone
Eddard's eyes widened with disbelief at the words he read. This was indeed a serious accusation against Catelyn's sister. Eddard felt sick to his stomach, and he wondered if Lord Yohn may have taken leave of his senses. But Yohn Royce was a man of honour, like Eddard. He would never make such an allegation unless he was absolutely certain that there was a grain of truth to it. Eddard looked up to Andar, who was sitting uncomfortably in his seat.
"This is indeed serious," Eddard said. "If your father cannot prove this then House Royce will be shamed." Andar cleared his throat before speaking.
"I know my lord," he said. "My brother Robar has disappeared to the Stranger knows where, and my father has had to contend with threats from some of the other Houses of the Vale. He is alone in his investigation, but he refuses to involve me lest I disappear as well." Eddard stood up from his seat and walked around his desk. He looked down at Andar and regarded him. Yohn's son did not seem the type to lie for any reason, and he was in an unfamiliar environment. He was his father's son and he held himself with honour, but there was fear behind his eyes. Eddard knew that no matter what the outcome of Yohn's investigation into Lysa, if it comes to it he would watch over Yohn's son and daughters. Lysa may be his wife's family, but if she has indeed done as Yohn accuses then she has brought danger to many.
Eddard put his hand on Andar's shoulder. "Ser Andar, tell me everything that you know."
AN: While I remember, a quick shout out to the author Aldon Blackreyne for inspiration for this chapter.
So as I said earlier, I may pair Silas with Arya, as I love her character and I have always wondered how she could have been if she had lived in Winterfell for longer than she did in the books/TV show. Then again I may not. Perhaps I'll go with Sansa, or Margeary, or some other woman.
So now we are getting problems coming from the Vale. I have noticed one or two fics out there where little Robert Arryn's paternity is called into question, so I have decided to go along the same line, but whether I resolve the issue or not I have yet to decide. Perhaps I shall be cruel and leave everyone questioning the truth behind Robert Arryn's father.
Anyway, next chapter we will go back to the North and see what Robb and co are doing. Ramsey has trapped himself in a corner after Hornwood, now all Robb has to do is wait for his banners to arrive.
Until next time folks.