authorsnote: this ended up being a long one, do enjoy
and to the ppl complaining this is jon wank! ... like yeah lol, isn't that obvious?
songrecs: What is Dead May Never Die - GOT Season 2
'Thoros, how many times have you brought me back now?'
'It is R'hllor who brings you back, my lord. The Lord of Light, I am only his instrument'
- Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr
-x-
Come morning Jon felt sick.
He wasn't often one for nerves, but there was a lot riding on this, not just his reputation (which he did care about, but was at the bottom of his list), but also the quest, with such good rewards, and such terrible penalties. More to it, he could admit he didn't want to get beaten, his pride injured in front of the crowd.
What was a text Maester Luwin had read to them once? He thought as he met Robb to break their fast, two Northern guards who would act almost as squires followed them.
Pride commeth before…
The fall.
His nerves doubled.
He forced himself to eat some food before they headed out, bread, and eggs, with some bacon, and he washed it all down with water not mead, Robb did the same, and then they both made their way to the tourney grounds.
However, on their way over, they were stopped, by Lady Myrcella.
Robb offered him a grin but wisely kept quiet, and instead promised to meet him at the grounds, they intended to sit together for the jousting section before preparing for the melee, their guards and stand-in squires followed Robb, leaving him alone with the Princess, her guard, Ser Oakheart stood a respectful distance away.
"Jon" Myrcella said with a little grin, her smile always lit up her face, and Jon found himself smiling, he often smiled around her, more than he did with almost all others, "I wanted to give you something"
"A present from a Princess?" He teased, he also found he could be a touch more charming around her, of course he was still Jon, awkward and stoic, but he always coaxed a smile from Myrcella.
"Yes" She said boldly, holding out to him then, she gave him a ribbon in the purest gold, she didn't hand it to him but tied it to his arm, double knotting it to ensure it stayed put, and as she stepped back, and admired it, they were both smiling, "I give you my favour, for the melee"
"Thank you" He said sincerely, for he meant it, and on impulse, he wasn't sure what had him do it, but he reached down then and took the Princess's hand and placed a kiss to the back of it, "Thank you Princess, truly"
Her cheeks were flaming then, and she nodded, "I hope you win"
"I will do my best" He said, and it sounded like a promise, perhaps it was one.
She nodded then though, and they both knew they needed to part, the Princess grinned, and lingered for a second, he smiled too, glancing at the ribbon on his arm, before they parted ways, both red cheeked, both smiling.
Watched as well, by two people, though neither noticed, should have, but didn't, too wrapped up in each other's smiles, though the people watching them were not smiling.
Not as Jon Snow made his way to the tourney, the Princess's favour fluttering for all to see on his arm.
The joust passed with little interest from Jon and Robb. They sat side by side this time, taking in the tourney together. It was somewhat entertaining, but Jon knew tourneys would never be popular in the North, the men there preferred to hide their skill until battle or were too busy surviving in the bitter conditions of their beloved home to mess around with pretend fighting.
Jon quite agreed but couldn't deny it was nice to see one for himself, just once.
And to participate, he hadn't planned on it, and was still reluctant to, but with the Princess's favour on his arm, and the possible rewards … he had become more excited for it.
"I can't believe you're carrying the Princess's favour" Robb whispered to him as the final four for the melee were called; Ser Jaime, Ser Loras, Ser Gregor, and Ser Hugh of the Vale.
"She gave it to me" He said, a touch defensively, but he knew his cheeks were pink as Robb laughed. It was odd, a bastard being granted the favour, but he liked Princess Myrcelloa, she was sweet and funny, so far from any other Lannister or Southerner he'd met, and she seemed to like him, why he wasn't sure, but he wouldn't deny her favour, he couldn't.
"The Queen will skin you" Robb said, his tone a touch more serious, "Seriously"
"She won't know" He scoffed, but he glanced at the royal box, Myrcella was sat next to her Mother, it was clear for the Queens faults she adored her children, which just made Jon more nervous.
"Sure" Robb mocked, as the final jousts began, "You tell yourself that, but don't come crying to me as a spirit when she murders you"
He knew then his nerves were not just for the melee.
But first, was the joust, Ser Loras shockingly unseated Ser Jaime, to which Renly Baratheon cheered and laughed to Petyr Baelish's annoyance at losing some winnings, though he did laugh it off Jon could see the annoyance in the man's eyes, a dangerous one that, he'd have to keep an eye on him as quietly as possible.
Next, Ser Gregor and Ser Hugh of the Vale, and Jon knew that would only go one way.
He hadn't expected the outcome though.
Ser Hugh was killed, and as the poor Knight hit the ground, he and Robb were near on their feet, there was great dishonour, this was not a match to kill in, but they both had to calm down as it was declared an accident, and the joust moved on, straight to Ser Loras and Ser Gregor.
"This place" Robb seethed under his breath, Jon nodded, but they went quiet, it would not do to be heard here about how much they despised Kings Landing, its lack of honour was apparent.
The sooner they were free from it, the better.
And yet Jon knew, there would be no freedom yet, not as Ser Gregor and Ser Loras squared across from one another, there was much left to do in Kings Landing before they could move on.
Before he could move on, in more senses than one.
He watched as Ser Gregor and Ser Loras rode opposite one another, he heard bets being called, general shouting and cheering, and he knew he and Robb shared a look of disgust. There was still a bloodstain to a dead man on the floor, and no one cared, these people didn't care, they probably thought it entertainment, hence his disgust.
He hoped this didn't go on much longer.
He was swiftly rewarded.
Ser Loras unseated Ser Gregor on the first bout, but as the crowd gasped, and cheered and even Robb let out a sigh of relief, Jon felt no such joy at it being over, even as Ser Loras trotted around on horseback, handing a rose to a girl in the crowd, because he knew it wasn't over.
Not as Ser Gregor stood, such a look of anger on his face even Jon felt unsettled, and swiftly beheaded his horse, more gasps from the crowd then, which turned to screams of horror, as the Mountain, this monster without any semblance of honour, turned on Ser Loras, who unprepared fell from his horse and hit the ground with a thud.
And Jon, before he could think to how it would look, or what people would think, or what was the best idea here, was on his feet, his hand on his sword, and jumping down, past the rows of people watching but doing nothing, and blocked Ser Gregors blow intended for Ser Loras, scrabbling on the ground, blocked the Mountains sword with his own, a roar leaving his lips as he did so, blocked the blow and saved Ser Loras who he caught rolling away.
Some would say Jon was too brave for his own good, Robb was on his feet too, but Jon had been the one to throw himself in the path of the Mountain, his arms straining from the effort of deflecting the blow, and yet, as the Mountain reeled back, raising his sword again, Jon didn't feel he was doomed, but he was thankful for all the training he'd been doing though, as he felt a strain in his arm, he knew without it, he wouldn't be standing.
Quest Alert!
Put the Dog Down
Hold Ser Gregor Off … For Now
Reward: +1 AGI, +200XP
Failure: -1 LUC, -30 Bravery.
He barely had time to read the text, didn't really take it in, for the Mountain was on him again, all that inhuman fury turned on him, and Jon knew he couldn't falter. He didn't even have time to see if the book was telling him the Mountains level or skill, he had to react.
The first blow from the Mountain promised to hurt, and yet, it was slow, very slow, and Jon was able to quickly roll beyond it, and smack his own sword into the Mountains back, he didn't go for the killing blow, perhaps he should have, perhaps it was a compliment to his character, but as the Mountain turned back, Jon vowed for the next one he would be strike to kill.
The Mountain was slow again but this time their swords met. Jon gritted his teeth with the ache in his arms it took to hold him off, but he did and kicked out this time, but lower, smacking hard into the Mountains calf. He stumbled back in response, and Jon swung his sword harshly this time, going for the monster's head, he missed by inches.
He dodged two blows, faster but still Jon was quicker, his speed was always an advantage, he dodged the two, before he went in with his own, the Mountain barely deflected the first, but then he shoved out and Jon was on his back before he could blink, with a thud and some of the air knocked out of him, he hit the floor.
But he was back on his feet just as quickly, he had no choice, not if he wanted to live.
And he very much did.
He remembered dying, and he didn't remember it fondly.
Another blow and their swords met, Jon grunted in the pain in his arms, but held firm, even as he felt the swords tipping, he might be faster, but he wasn't stronger, he couldn't throw him off, the Mountains prestige was purely in his strength, Jon couldn't match him there.
And so, he had to try something else.
As the Mountain shoved him again, Jon forced himself straight back up again, even as the wind had been knocked out of him, he was straight back up, dodged another slow blow, and then turned his sword, onto the monster.
It was quick from there.
The Mountain could not meet Jons blows, he blocked one, but another slice, and the Mountain lost part of his cheek, roared out in rage, and then Jon swiped again, this time, harsh up the Mountains side, in the gap in the armour between chest plate and hip, that time he screamed.
And then Jon turned, sword up, as blood trickled over the Mountains armour, as his cheek bled, Jon turned, sword flat and aimed for the neck.
But…
"You will stop this in the name of your King!"
Everything seemed to hang in the air to suspend, Jon turned, for he couldn't so blatantly deny the King, but he kept part of his head turned, though the Mountain too knew he couldn't commit treason and threw his sword to the ground, allowing Jon to bow his head in deference.
And he knew, as the Mountain stormed away, and Jon was forced to bow, it was over, for now.
Quest Completed!
Put the Dog Down
Hold Ser Gregor Off … For Now
Reward: +1 AGI, +200XP
AGI: 19, XP: 900/2500XP.
The book was quick, but it then added an extra line…
The Quest, 'Mad Dog' remains active, because you lived, but so did the Mountain, next time, one of you will not.
He gritted his teeth at that, the King had forced them to stop, so the quest remained active:
Quest Alert!
Mad Dog
Deal with Ser Gregor and avenge your siblings.
Reward: +1 STR, +1 LUC, +400XP.
Failure: -40 Bravery, -300XP, Your life if you face him and lose.
This is an active quest; active quests are ongoing and do not have to be selected, thus they are hard to fail. Failure will only be determined if the quest becomes impossible to achieve.
With this quest you will fail if someone else deals with Ser Gregor, or you lose to him in combat.
He wished he'd dealt with that now, but as the King yelled for more wine, and the melee was called to start within the hour he knew he had no choice, the King had demanded they stop, and he was not above the Kings law.
Not yet.
And so, he moved on, met with Robb, who spoke both in awe and scolded him (sounding too much like Lady Catelyn for Jons liking, which he said, and Robb shoved him, and Jon was pleased to find he could laugh even as he felt a touch shaky from the experience), for going against the Mountain, though Jon wished he could have finished it.
Another time, he'd avenge his siblings, even though he'd never known them, he wished he had, wished their lives hadn't been cut so brutally short, and knew nit was his duty to avenge them, for now, as they walked to the arena set up for the melee, Jon knew he needed to refocus, even as adrenaline rushed through his veins, he needed to settle for a moment before calling on it again.
He had a fight to win.
And though he'd have preferred to fight the Mountain again, to kill him this time, his confidence boosted, by knowing he could win, knowing he could have won, he knew for now he'd need to focus on the melee, the book suggested he'd fight the Mountain again, as did his instincts, they'd meet again, and only one of them would live the next time, and he knew he would have to win.
Have to.
"Come on, if it isn't enough to try and get killed by the Queen and the Mountain in one day…" Robb teased again, and Jon rolled his eyes, but nodded, followed, not quite recognizing how many eyes were on him now. And they continued to grow.
More and more each day.
You would think after fighting the Mountain and somehow not only making it out alive, but possibly getting the upper hand, that the melee would be easy.
You would be wrong.
As Jon stepped forward, one of the Northern Guards checking over his armour (Robb stood next to him, another guard doing the same for him), he took a breath, allowed himself to calm down. It was difficult, his adrenaline spiking so hard, only to come back down, only now he needed to force it up again.
But he was used to this, battle, used to being thrown into danger at a moment's notice, just as he had when he'd thrown himself in front of the Mountains sword, and now would again.
Though this wasn't a war, it was a battle, and regardless of it being for show, these ridiculous Southern traditions, as he'd seen people could still get hurt, they could still die, and he had to win.
He glanced at Robb, and gritted his teeth, he didn't just have himself to get out of this alive.
But he did have to win this, he'd protect Robb, make sure he didn't get harmed, but he had to focus on winning, the quest was too important to fail.
Especially, as in the air infront of him he was reminded...
Quest Alert!
Champion of the South
Enter the Melee of the upcoming tournament … and win of course!
Reward: +1 STR, 10 to Hand to Hand, 10 Bravery, 300XP, Unlocks next Quest: LOCKED
Failure: -10 to ALL weapon skills, -10 Bravery, -200XP, Next quest remains locked.
Bonus!: Due to some significant opponents entering the melee you will get 100XP for each named player! (We will update you after, and you only get this bonus if you complete the quest!).
With a nod more for himself than anyone else, and then another shared with Robb, he turned to the battlefield ahead.
About 50 men had entered the melee, all held partially blunted swords, enough to leave bruises and some sharp cuts, but theoretically not sharp enough to kill. Opponents could yield once on the floor, or if incapacitated they would be dragged off by the squires stood around, only one man could win, and Jon intended for it to be him.
He hated this, hated the showmanship of it, hated that this was so very Southern. Many of the men's armour were encrusted with jewels, many carried shields carved with fancy sigils and gems, and all were polished within inches of their lives. Robb and he wore practical armour, polished yes, but tough, used, their normal sets they were used to, both held swords similar to the ones they wore every day, they didn't wear capes to battle, or have fancy scabbards put on for show, no, they stuck out a little even, the Northerns come to take the fight to the South.
Jon wore no helmet, held no shield, that was not his style. He wore high quality armour crafted in Winterfell, and a strong sword, he again felt a longing for Longclaw, but he still held a bastard sword, weighted it in his hand. His hair was tied back, his expression didn't flicker, he was ready.
There were no mounts in this, instead a melee on foot was the entertainment of the day which Jon preferred, a horse would only slow him down.
And as the crier called to begin, he did not wait for the fight to come to him.
Jon knew his skills, he knew that he was fast, agile, he wouldn't have time here to break down his opponents like he had with Ser Barristen, this wasn't like a one-on-one duel, he had to think quickly.
But then he remembered Hardhome, he remembered the Battle for the Wall, a flash of another battle crossed his mind, being surrounded by shields, struggling for air, but then it was gone as quickly as it came, and he had no time to think on it, as he clashed steel with the first man.
He couldn't break down his opponents here, but he was stronger now, he was fast, quick, smart, and he had his instincts, they had rarely ridden him wrong in battle, and they wouldn't now.
The first man, a nameless Knight with a shield covered in a bunch of grapes went down without much urging.
The next two were equally easy, one came from the left, but Jon was quick, swinging his sword around his head, clashing it forwards, he then kicked out hard into the man's stomach before rushing forward, shoulder charging him to the ground. A lot of Jons skill also stood in his physicality, and his understanding that in battle sometimes you had to fight dirty, there was no honour in dying by trying to be self-righteous.
In that moment he was reminded oddly of Karl Tanner.
'Did you learn to fight in a Castle? Did some old man teach you how to stand, to parry? How to fight with honour? You know what's wrong with honour?'
Jon wasn't the definition of a dirty fighter, he was still castle trained, but he was no longer averse to playing dirty if he needed to.
But he remembered…
'The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. If you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die'
There was still honour to be had in fighting, but it could not weigh him down. Something else came to memory…
'You wear your honour like a suit of armour. You think it keeps you safe, but all it does is weigh you down and make it hard for you to move'
He couldn't remember who said that, but he knew none of it was completely right. He had learned that long ago, he would always strive to be honourable, to honour House Stark, his family, himself, but sometimes personal honour had to be shed for the greater good, a balance.
And so, the second man went down, Jon had a moment to look around, he'd already lost Robb, no further time to look, hoped he was okay, and then the third man was on him.
A quick glance at him, once and over, and Jon charged forwards, and took a sword to the side.
He gasped out, but did not falter, stumbled yes, but did not fall, he was quick, wincing against the pain to right himself, which the man hadn't been expecting, and so when Jon flurried forward, teeth gritted against the ache in his side, the man had no defence, and he, even as Jon was forced to tame his fourth blow because of his side, fell too.
From there, things just got more difficult, and any pain or ache had to be ignored.
He could whine after, there were no Weirwoods he'd found here yet to heal to, but he'd gladly awake covered in bruises and cuts, a broken bone even could be the price for the rewards this quest would give him. He could not lose.
And so, he carried on.
A harshly and poorly swung sword almost caught him as he whirled forwards, but he dodged it quickly, but didn't turn to that opponent who was battling someone else, instead he rounded, and as he clashed gazes with his next opponent, he took a second.
His first opponent he was sure he would gain extra XP for … if he beat him.
Patrek Mallister
A good fighter from what Jon could remember, and he moved quickly, dispatching one opponent before he met Jon, but Jon was quicker, he gave the Riverlander man no time to readjust, instead he rushed him.
Back and forth their swords clashed, Jon was quicker, but Patrek stronger, and so Jon was forced to be creative.
After several back and forths he feinted back, and then rushed forward again, shouldering him in the stomach, he knew it wouldn't knock him, but he used that as his opening to rush his elbow up into the mans face, causing his helmet to clang harshly, deafening him for a moment, Jon then feinted back again then before slashing out with his sword, once, twice, and three times and the man hit the floor, and yielded with a wave of his hand.
And the battlefield was down by half, and Jons blood was up.
He was quicker than so many opponents, swinging his sword, harsh, long but precise swings, his muscle memory perfect, he may not have the experience in this time, but he had all of those memories, all of that skill that flowed through his arms, as he sidestepped a harsh swing from a Frey, and then took considerable joy in smacking a sword against the mans back, jabbing him hard in the side, before a nasty kick felled him to the ground with a groan.
The melee was long, and Jon was thankful for his stamina, half the field down and an hour had passed, he quickly scanned the field before he dispatched a Knight in poor armour but with good skill, but Jons was better, another scan and the field was down to ten, and Jon caught the eye of Robb dragging himself to the side of the field, alive but bruised.
Good, Jon thought, as he turned to his next opponent, without any worry for Robb, Jon could focus, and did, sinking into his instincts, rolling his neck, 9 men to go.
He faced a Dornish man next. He carried a shield of red and black, scorpions painted onto it, House Qorgyle, if he remembered correctly, another important opponent then.
His armour was different, lighter, and he was equal in speed to Jon, a spear in hand rather than a sword, he was tall, sandy of hair, agile, and Jon gritted his teeth as he adjusted his grip on his sword.
In this one Jon was forced to go on the defensive, quickly dropping his shoulders, darting back so the man couldn't catch him. He did twice, once knocking Jon to the floor, but he was as quick to spring to his feet as he had been against the Mountain.
He jumped back as the spear swung forward, and Jon started to bring his sword up, slashing it hard against the spear, it was blunted like his sword, but Jon quickly swiped his sword down, bringing the spear to the ground, he then used his heel to snap the wood at the base of it, before smacking his sword up into the Dornish mans face, the man hit the ground, and yielded as Jon swiped his sword forward as a threat.
Jon turned to the battlefield to find it empty.
Bar one.
He gulped down some air, his eyes wide, adrenaline surging through him, sword gripped in hand, turned to face the final opponent.
Who was looking across at him with a grin, he too wore no helmet anymore, he wore armour, but a red cloak trailed to the floor, though that wasn't what Jon focused on, no what he swore was the flaming sword in his hand, and Jon knew who he had to beat.
Lord Thoros of Myr.
For a second something flickered in Jons head, a memory? But no, he'd never met the Priest before, but he knew of him, and Jon knew he had a fierce opponent.
The book confirmed it for him…
Player!
Lord Thoros of Myr
The Red Priest
Level: 45
HRS: Magic
Relationship: 5/100
Jon took a second then, to breath, to look at the man as they stepped forward to one another, he didn't flinch at the flaming sword, others might but he didn't.
He knew what was in his blood, he knew fire couldn't harm him, and so he stepped against his opponent levelling his sword.
But, Thoros hadn't come this far just due to his fiery sword, no, the duel showed that.
Jon again had to play slightly defensive, he may not fear the fire, but he couldn't bat it away here (without asking the King to take his head), and so he jumped back as Thoros swung, quick, easily tracking the swords trajectory, watching as it sliced just shy of him as he jumped before he thrust his own blade forward.
Thoros did catch him twice, harsh blows to one shoulder and then his leg, and he stumbled, just about kept himself up, and had to jump harshly, gritting his teeth against pain and the ache now in his side.
Jon did take a moment, circling to understand Thoros' style, but it was hard to determine, and the man even smiled at him, he was unpredictable, that was clear, but Jon knew he relied on his sword, and as he thrusted his own forward again, and just missed, he knew that was it.
He didn't listen to the gasps and oohs of the crowd, didn't think of what this would do to his reputation, how maidens were already cooing about his bravery, as Queen Cersei glared at him, and even the King looked at him a little oddly. Perhaps Jon shouldn't have drawn the attention to himself, should have downplayed his skills.
But no, the book would give him nothing for coming second. He had to win.
And so, he thrust his sword forward, swinging it as Thoros had, but the Priest, whilst strong and smart was not as quick, and as Jon caught him in the side, he stumbled, and then Jon rushed forward, showing no mercy, only a ruthlessness he'd developed as Lord Commander and even before then as a member of the Freefolk, and even seeming younger here, remained with him.
He was quick, and though he daren't touch the flames (for he then realised as he looked at the green hue it was wildfire, or was it, or only a trick?), he did smack his sword, his much stronger compared to the cheap steel Thoros used (no one would douse their best sword in flames), it wavered, and then Jon smacked his sword again and again and again, flattening Thoros' defences, but the Priest did not give up, even back on his feet quickly as Jon smacked him to the ground.
Jon glanced at the flames then, knew what he had to do, was glad to be wearing gloves at least, both in case he wasn't quite immune to wildfire, and also in hopes of masking what he was about to do.
Another smack with his sword, and then he swung it around his head, which had Thoros rushing forward, but Jon used it to his advantage, quickly side stepping him, and then grabbing him from behind, circling him with his arms, he then reached for the sword, grabbed the base of it at least, only a lick of the flame caught his glove, but to his relief he felt nothing from it, even as it burned the leather but not his skin.
Apparently, fire wouldn't.
He had to be quick though, to stop Thoros seeing, and so he grabbed the sword, forced it to the ground and then stepped back, and with a quick slash he forced the Red Priest to the ground, his sword in Thoros's face had him yielding.
And it was with that like the air rushed back into the arena, as he offered Thoros a hand (not the one with the burned glove but unsuspiciously unburned skin), he heard the cheers and screams of the crowd, loud and clear, and he winced.
"Well met Jon Snow" Thoros said, and Jon focused on the Priest, nodded his thanks.
"A good fight" He said, and Thoros nodded, but his grin was unsettling.
"You will do much" Thoros said with a nod, "But be careful here, fire is not so welcome"
"Bastards aren't welcome" Jon threw back.
"Nor dead men" Thoros said with a grin, and Jons eyes widened, but he just grinned, and then stepped back.
And at that, before Jon could step forward, the Priest turned away, and the crier was pronouncing, Jon Snow, Bastard of House Stark (he could have done without that bit frankly despite what he said) winner of the melee at the Tournament to welcome the North!
"Didn't I tell you the North fights!" The King shouted, laughing, banging his tankard and the crowd cheered, Jon could do without this part, and his grimace, not quite a smile was evidence of that. He ached in every place and did not need the flattery, he wanted to escape to his rooms, take a bath and ache, and check the book.
But first he had to go along with all of this excess, and he hated it just as he knew he would, this was not his way, and though he was thrilled he won, the heavy pride of success and the exhalation running through him, he felt a touch embarrassed, this wasn't the Northern way. They didn't playfight.
Still, he tried to soak in the success, he'd done well, shown his mettle, and would get his rewards. He just needed to get through the ceremony of it all.
His rewards came both in the book, and now as King Robert presented him with a bag of golden dragons, and a promise to sponsor him for any sword at Tobo Motts, Jon did manage a smile, clapped hands with the drunken King, though his smile faded at that, he may not have known his Father, but the King had murdered him, they'd never be friends.
Still, he was respectful, bowed and nodded as the crowd cheered and screamed, and went to take his leave, before…
"And finally!" The King roared, grinning, Myrcella was clapping for him too and he only didn't smile at her as the Queens gaze was piercing him, the Prince Joffrey was glaring as harshly as his Mother but Jon found him easy to ignore, though he wished perhaps he had offended the royal family in some way to stop what happened next.
"You may crown your Queen of Love and Beauty!" The King yelled, as a squire handed Jon a ringlet of roses, and Jon was glad he was far away from the crowd, and covered in sweat, mud, and a bit of blood from a small nick he'd taken on his cheek, so they couldn't see a blush flood his cheeks.
He had thought this was just for jousts, but no, the book spoke next…
Quest Completed!
Champion of the South
Enter the Melee of the upcoming tournament … and win of course!
Reward: +1 STR, 10 to Hand to Hand, 10 Bravery, 300XP.
Bonus!: Due to some significant opponents entering the melee you will get 100XP for each named player! (We will update you after, and you only get this bonus if you complete the quest!).
Patrek Mallister +100XP
Gulian Qorgyle +100XP
Thoros of Myr +100XP
STR: 24, Hand to Hand: 70, Bravery: 80, XP: XP: 1500/2500XP.
Unlocks next Quest: Queen of Love and Beauty.
Fuck.
Quest Alert!
Queen of Love and Beauty
Crown your Queen and be prepared for the consequences, good or bad!
Reward: +15 Relationship with your Queen, +10 Love with your Queen, +10 Persuasion, -10 Diplomacy.
Failure: -2 CHA, -30 Persuasion, -20 Relationship with your Queen, +10 Diplomacy
He'd never seen positives or negatives for failing or completing quests, but as he looked at the crowd, the failure if he refused, and felt the roses in his hands he knew he had no choice.
And so, he stepped forward.
The crowd continued to cheer, he could hear his name being chanted, he had put on quite a show, but it felt like it was so far away, like he was listening to their cheering from outside the City, and as he stepped forward he caught Robbs eye, whose eyes were wide, he was grinning now, teasing, but he looked a bit nervous, he could only offer Jon a shrug, but then as he realised a frantic shake of his head.
Fuck.
He knew what he should do, go to some faceless girl, maybe even a servant, the smallfolk would eat that up, it would even disrespect the Lords and Ladies which he liked the idea of, and yet his feet were moving without stopping. He did glance to the side of the stands, thought for a moment, but carried on forward.
Only one girl had given him her favour after all.
It was so stupid, and if he'd stopped to think he would have talked himself out of it, but he thought of her smile, thought of the gold fluttering ribbon on his arm, thought about how he couldn't possibly name anyone else really (bar one other girl, but he didn't wear green on his arm, did he?), hoped it would come across maybe as just a respectful gesture, knew it wouldn't, didn't change his path regardless.
No, he stepped forward and up to the royal family box, he could practically hear Lord Stark asking him what he was doing, Lady Stark screaming at him, he could feel the crowd hushing around him, falling silent, even as they seemed so far away, as he stepped forward, and fell to one knee, and held out the circlet of roses to Myrcella Baratheon.
Blue of eye, perhaps a trueborn daughter here, and one of his few friends in the Capitol, with a pretty laugh, a prettier smile, and both the kindness, bravery and caring to give her favour to him.
The golden ribbon continued to flutter on his arm.
He would not let her down by refusing to do the same.
The crowd was silent now, and he was sure if the Queens glare could kill it would, as Myrcella stood up, her eyes wide and shocked, stepped forward towards him and knelt, so he could lay the crown on her head, of roses, decorating her Lannister blonde hair.
For a moment they just looked eye to eye, her blue gaze meeting his grey, and shared just a small moment, a few seconds, before the crowd roared again, and Jon was truly introduced to Kings Landing.
Quest Completed!
Queen of Love and Beauty
Crown your Queen and be prepared for the consequences, good or bad!
Reward: +15 Relationship with your Queen, +10 Love with your Queen, +10 Persuasion, -10 Diplomacy.
Persuasion: 40, Diplomacy: 30, Relationship with Myrcella Baratheon: 40 / 15
Consequences, consequences…
this took foreverrrrrr lol, hope you enjoyed
and so it all plays out
and yes, this is jon wank! but he will lose, he didn't beat the mountain (and I personally think the mountain is a HUGELY overrated fighter), but at the moment he is facing people at his skill level, and he is being severely underestimated, though not for long...
also, yes we will see more cersei, we'll even learn her level, she won't skin jon, tho she might try
do review if you can