Chapter 2: Tourney of the Hand
Hello everybody! Iskander here with a new chapter for the Roaring Lions of the Rock. As previously stated, this story is a Crossover between the Fate Series of Type/Moon and Game of Thrones, in this chapter we will be going over almost every aspect of the Hand's Tourney that King Robert wastes so much of the Crown's gold on.
With a certain guest crashing the party…
I do not own Fate/Apocrypha or Game of Thrones; if I did, Arya would be the Queen of the North and Sansa would be kicked into the snow for all the shit she put her family through in the beginning.
King's Landing, 298 AC
The sun was strong on this day, beating down on anybody and everyone that was making their way to the gates of King's Landing for the Hand's Tourney. The horses pulling on large merchant carts were heaving and many of the knights clad in their different forms of either light or heavy armor looked ready to cut their way through the guards at the gate just to get into the city so they could be relieved of their hot armor for a short time before the tourney.
"This is annoying…" A voice echoed out from behind the helm of a bulky knight that sat on a roan colored mare, waiting its turn to get into the city.
This mystery knight was small in stature, covered completely in a thick armor that entirely wrapped around their small frame. The mass of decorated steel and the face-covering horned helmet concealing the knight's face and identity from the world; with a crimson colored length of cloth hanging down between their legs.
The only part of the body able to be seen through the small, yet bulky armor were a pair of emerald green eyes that kept an eye on everything around them.
Every now and then, the long line stretched behind this knight and a smaller line sat to their front, the city's gate getting closer.
Reaching into the side pouch of their horse's saddle, this knight pulled out a passport with a Lion emblazoned on the front as they reached the front of the line, ignoring the whining ruckus behind them as a rather fat, minor lord started berating his servants for not keeping him cool.
The guard to the right of the gate took one look at the official paper before sighing, "Welcome to King's Landing, milord."
The horned knight nodded silently before the guard moved away to motion to the other guards to let them through with a wave of his hand, "The tourney grounds are being hosted near the western side of the Red Keep, have a nice day."
"Thank you," was all the muffled voice of the knight said before spurring their mare down the street towards the large castle that hosted the Baratheon house.
The Tourney Grounds
The large wooden arena for the tournament had three sections, with the large pavilion near the front of the stands built to seat the royal family and the family of the King's Hand so they would have front row seats to watch as various knights from all over the Seven Kingdoms unhorsed or fought each other. At the center of the pavilion was a heightened area with a large canopy providing shade from the scorching sunlight for the spectators below.
At the center of the pavilion King Robert sat in a gilded chair with the golden haired Lannister Queen sitting to his right, looking as beautiful as the rumors had portrayed her and their three children sat just below them in their own row.
The Crown Prince Joffrey himself sat close to where the Stark family resided due to his father's wish to bring back the good relations of their houses by having him near his betrothed, Sansa, and the younger royal children, Tommen and Myrcella Baratheon sat next to him on his left.
Several other people sat close to the royal family, ranging from the new Hand and his family, followed by the queen's youngest brother, the Imp Tyrion, and the Kingsguard that as always stood at key points around the royal family to ensure nothing happened to them.
All other lords and noblemen, ranging from House Tyrell of the Reach to House Forrester of the Northern Wolfswood, were sitting in a different part of the stands that looked over the tourney arena and on the other side of the arena sat a gigantic crowd of spectators belonging to the common class.
"Lord Baelish!" Tyrion Lannister cried out as he walked towards the Master of Coin, "I have heard that you are the person to see for an interest in gambling, would you care to wager on the winner of the joust?"
"The rumors are correct, Master Lannister," Petyr said with a wry smile as the smalltime nobleman of the Riverlands stood from his seat where he'd been talking to the disabled Willas Tyrell and moved closer to the dwarven brother of the Queen. "How about one hundred golden dragons as the wager?"
"Hmm," Tyrion mused as he took a sip from the goblet of wine that he held in his hand, his young squire Podrick following after his tiny master, ready to fill the dwarf's cup whenever he was needed. "Sounds like an interesting wager; I think I will place my bet on my dear brother, Jaime, to be the winner."
"Very well then," the Littlefinger of the Riverlands said as he stroked at his chin to look like he was thinking of someone to bet on. "I was thinking that I'd place my bet on Ser Gregor myself; the Mountain is probably the only one besides Ser Barristan that would be able to dismount your brother."
Tyrion smiled rather forcedly at the mention of the murderous giant that his father alone commanded the respect of, his opinion of House Clegane's current leader was rather poor after his few encounters with the man, "I certainly wish you the best of luck."
The King's personal banker gave a cool smile in return, "As do I, my little lord."
"Alright you little cunts!" The King roared drunkenly as the overweight man stood up from next to the disgusted Cersei raising his goblet high. "Let's get this tourney started!"
The streets were already paved were absolutely crowded with the common folk and vendors as the horned knight rode towards their destination. The knight could smell the freshly baked breads of the bakers and the different flavors of alcohol as dozens of people took this as a time of celebration, but they ignored the rabble around them while the knight continued on their way to the tourney grounds. Within minutes of leaving the front gate, the horned knight had been turned around in the city twice.
Now, perched on their roan mare, the mysterious Ser road through the streets. Nobody seemed to not recognize in the slightest, and the horned knight could see many staring after them in confusion, trying to place which noble house they stood behind. It was a welcomed development from normal life for the knight; if the people around them knew their identity, they would be sure to hound them to curry favors with their house.
"King's Landing is a fucking maze," the knight growled out in annoyance as they looked around for any sign leading to the Tourney grounds. 'Seeing as there are over a hundred knights here, one would think that there would be signs advertising the fucking Hand's tourney and were it is!'
"All knights and purveyors of the noble art of chivalry!" A loud pompous voice yelled out, catching the horned knight's attention, allowing them to catch sight of Olyvar, the new squire of the self-important Loras Tyrell. "The Hand's Tourney is about to begin! All who wish to participate; then please join us just this way for the Jousting!"
The horned knight looked further down the road and caught sight of the entrance to the Tourney grounds, feeling like palming their face at the sign that they had passed twice already. Loras' squire was perched on top of a young stallion, with several knights and noblemen already passing him by.
The horned knight sighed before a smile appeared beneath their imposing helm and rode over to the entrance, managing to beat the large crowd of commoners that were beginning to scramble to get to the grounds for the tournament, "Finally…"
"Good morning, Ser," the squire of the second son of Highgarden said as the knight rode closer to the pretty young man, taking to his task with apparently great joy. "If you will just sign here, we can get you into a slot for the Joust milord~!"
"I look forward to it," the horned knight said with a deep voice, making the curiosity on the squire's face grow when they did not remove their helm to be recorded in an official house.
Once finished, the knight rode past the curious young man towards the tourney, where the knight could see the many Lords of the Great Houses that were perched among the pavilion, where it seemed they were all having individual conversations with a thin lord where they were placing bets, the knight just barely able to make out the tiny form of the infamous Imp.
Looking over to where the knights were gathered for the tournament, the horned rider could see over a hundred knights had gathered for the event. It made certainly make for an contest to see all the different amounts of skills from the knights. With a brief look over the massive group of mounted men, the knight could see at least two flashes of white, signifying the participation of a couple members of the Kingsguard, though the mystery knight couldn't tell which ones were participating just yet.
Looking to the field, the knight saw that three fences had been set up for the joust, so three matches would happen at the same time, the first batch of knights had already started to line up along the ends of the fences, the horned knight recognizing several knights from the Westerlands and the Reach, each of them already holding their lances or being handed the lances by their squires.
The cheering faded soon after as the King stood from his seat when everybody realized that the knights were ready and the horned knight could see many people on the pavilion moving forward to the edge of the seats to watch in earnest excitement.
For the next twenty minutes, the knight watched many of their fellows in front of him joust and found it to be full of repetition, the only excitement being in the seventh match when the infamous 'Mountain that Rides' rode against a newly knighted squire from the Reach and had impaled him in the throat. Overall, the knight found it to be quite boring and couldn't wait for the melee; at least that part of the competition had actual threats and challenges.
Even hunting stags and boars back in the Westerlands was a harder challenge since there was every chance that the animal that was being hunted could kill the hunter via goring…
The joust was rather simple compared to that, when the enemy came into range, drop the lance down to level and let your opponent run right into it…
It was simple…
The crimson and silver knight was snapped out of their thoughts as they were motioned forward by the gatekeeper along with another knight that bore the Wave sigil of House Upcliff of the Vale emblazoned on their breastplate.
"Ser Edgar Upcliff of the Vale!" The referee roared out, getting an applause from the section of the pavilion that held his house, "Vs. Our tourney's very own mystery knight!"
Many in the crowd started to murmur at the fact that they had a mystery knight fighting in the Tourney, many, the new Hand among them, clearly remembering the victories of the Laughing Tree Knight in another tourney at Harrenhal just over a decade and a half ago, all the while the unknown identity of this challenger fueling the excitement.
The horned knight rode onto the field, nodding to the King and the royal family before settling at the right hand side of the fence. Then they looked over at the Upcliff knight, who appeared to be a man in his late teens with a cruel sneer on his face with rather fair skin that told of the fact that he hadn't seen any 'real' battles and curly black hair that hung down to his neck. Ser Edgar wore a suit of dark blue armor that looked brand new and he rode upon a massive black stallion that clearly dwarfed him.
His violet colored eyes bore a confident look that many new knights always possessed for their first fight. However, after a short while of waiting for the other knights to get into place, the horned knight found amusement watching as the black haired young man's confidence began to falter as the Upcliff continued to stare at the emotionless face of the mystery knight's helm, off put by the demonic look the armor gave.
This lasted for only another minute before the overweight king called for the match to begin, leading to Ser Edgar pushing his gilded loaf visored helm on over his head, allowing the cold steel to cover his face as his purple eyes glared through the visor.
The man clearly trying to regain his confidence after faltering to the demonic image before him as the two knight began riding towards each other with their lances lowered and shields at the ready…
The horned knight's own breathing was even and calm inside the helm, and they could hear the uneven breathing of their opponent loud and clear. Just like they had practiced back in the Westerlands many times, the horned knight braced themselves for impact just as their own lance slammed into the Upcliff knight while their steeds galloped down the railing.
With a small, nearly unhearable, grunt of their lips and a flex of the mystery knight's right arm, the horned knight's lance shot out, as if trying to pierce through the hard skin of a raging bear. It smashed right into the breastplate of Ser Edgar, completely bypassing the man's hastily raised shield, and splinters of wood exploded from the knight's shattered lance and it blocked parts of their vision, but the mystery knight could clearly see the Upcliff lying unmoving on the ground and the man's horse standing over at the end of the rail that the mystery knight had started at, completely lacking its rider as the felled knight's squire rused over to help his mentor up.
"The winners for this round are Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Oswell Gargalen, Ser Daemon Sand and our mysterious knight!" The referee screamed out as many of the felled knights were helped away to the medical tents and the crowds began roaring in applause, the squat man that made sure nothing untoward happened between the knights turned back to the victors of the round. "If you all would please join the other knights waiting for their turns, we can begin the next rounds."
Each knight nodded and quickly led their mounts away, the horned knight catching the curious stare from Jaime Lannister as they rode next to them as if the man had recognized their style of jousting.
After that fight, the rounds went on for at least another two hours with many knights unhorsing each other, sometimes ending in fatal accidents or with broken pride, Ser Jaime managing to net his younger brother fifty golden dragons as he unhorsed Daemon Sand from Dorne.
For each competition that the horned knight rode into, each victory caused the crowds to go wild at the sight of many high-born noblemen being laid low by the mystery of the tournament.
Finally upon the third hour of since the mystery knight's first round, the horned victor came once again into the arena to face off against Meryn Trant, a member of the Kingsguard that had droopy eyes and a thin beard covering his jaw.
The horned knight's emerald eyes narrowed behind their helm as they glared down the taller knight, they knew full well what kind of tastes the usually emotionless white cloak wearing knight had for his sexual appetite and it disgusted them.
Any man that went after little girls, especially ones that hadn't even had their first flowering, deserved any pain given to them…
With a call, the joust started and the horned knight found themselves having to fight to stay in the saddle as the Kingsguard member's lance slammed into the mystery's shield, though only thing keeping the knight's teeth from gritting in frustration being that they had made the older knight move back slightly when their own lance struck the man in the chest.
This continued on for a short time, many people from commoners to noblemen and the Hand's family watching the fight in earnest and bated silence.
Finally after the sixth tilt, the mystery knight's lance found purchase as the smaller knight made Meryn's lance glance off their shield and their own lance struck true in the man's stomach while he was off balance, forcing the older and taller knight off his horse and onto the ground.
As the victor's title was called out, the horned knight grunted and made their way off the tourney field for the next fight to commence, with their gauntlet covered left hand in a tight grip to stop it from moving too much.
Once out of sight of everyone else and successfully managing to find a discreet area, the knight unbuckled their pauldron and let it drop to the ground along with their shield before lifting their left hand behind their helmet and taking a hold of their shoulder with their opposite hand and with a vicious yank, popped the dislocated shoulder back into place with a pained grunt.
'I fucking hate when that happens…' The small knight thought to themselves as they moved their arm about to check for any other injuries, only to find none. 'I should thank uncle the next time I see him for teaching me that… I guess even when they lose, the Kingsguard strive to leave a lasting impression.'
Turning back and pulling on the segments of their armor as they walked, the mystery knight returned to the field entrance just in time to see Ser Jaime defeating Ser Barristan, who had already unhorsed several men decades younger than himself, and the beginning of Loras Tyrell's match against the Mountain.
Gregor Clegane was huge, the biggest man that anybody with the exception of the Night's Watch and apparently Lord Stark had ever seen. King Robert and his brothers were all known to be big men, as was Sandor Clegane the Hound; but the knight they called the 'Mountain That Rides' towered over them all.
He was well over seven feet tall, close to eight if the horned knight put much thought to it, with massive shoulders, and arms and legs just as thick as tree trunks making the mystery knight wonder if one of his ancestors had coupled with one of the rare elephants of Essos. His massive stallion, that dwarfed Ser Loras' mare, seemed to be but a pony in between his armored thighs, and the well-made lance the giant carried looked as small as a branch a child might use as a play sword in the man's hands.
Unlike his Hound brother who acted as the Crown Prince's bodyguard, the small knight knew that the elder Clegane didn't live at court.
He was a solitary man who seldom left his own lands, but for participating in wars and tourneys, or on Lord Tywin's orders. He had been with Lord of Casterly Rock when King's Landing fell to the Usurper, a new-made knight of seventeen years, even then distinguished by his size and his implacable ferocity. Many still spoke of how it had been Ser Gregor who'd smashed the skull of the infant prince Aegon VI and that afterward he had raped the boy's mother, the Dornish princess Elia, with the infant's blood and brains still on his hands before putting her to the sword.
Of course, many of the populace were too terrified, whether they were lord or commoner, to even speak of the event in range of the eldest Clegane's hearing.
When Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, made his extravagant entrance, an excited murmur ran through the crowd, and the horned knight could hear the whispers of, "Oh, he's so handsome," from many of the women in the stands.
The youngest male Tyrell was a slender young man, dressed in shiny silver armor polished to a blinding sheen that just made the sun reflect off it like a mirror and it was decorated with intertwining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy's shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of Scorpion flowers, real ones at that, hundreds of freshly picked blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape.
Honestly, who took their time every day to pick all of those flowers and weave them into the cape…?
The mystery knight of the Hand's Tourney was distinctly unimpressed…
The fifteen year old's courser was just as slim as her rider, a beautiful grey coated mare, built for speed. The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer, just as Ser Gregor's stallion trumpeted in what sounded like the beginnings of heat.
The horned knight noticed that the Mountain was having trouble controlling his horse as the two knights went to salute the king. The stallion was giving out deep huffs and was pawing the ground, violently shaking his head.
The mystery knight cocked an eyebrow as the Mountain kicked at the animal savagely to get it to behave and the horse retaliated by rearing back and almost throwing the half-giant.
As for the Knight of Flowers, the young lordling saluted the stag king, before he rode off to the far end of the list, and held his lance at the ready.
Once Ser Gregor managed to bring his steed into the line, fighting with the reins, with nobody daring to laugh at the berserker for fear of later retribution, the match began.
The Mountain's warhorse quickly broke out into a hard gallop, plunging forward like a screaming berserker in its need to mount the mare the Tyrell was riding; while said mare charged forward as smoothly as silk.
Growing closer, Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight and narrow. Unfortunately for the giant, Loras Tyrell was upon him in the moment that he was distracted and in the blink of an eye, the 'Mountain that Rode' became the 'Mountain that Fell'.
The man was so huge that his weight and grip took his warhorse down with him in a tangle of steel, fur and flesh.
The observer behind the horned helm heard the applause and cheers of the commoners and ladies of the court, almost equaled by the shocked gasps of the lords and the rasping laughter of the Mountain's own brother, the Hound.
With a little victory prance, Ser Loras guided his prancing mare up to the end of the lists, his lance still in good shape and his sapphire colored orbs winked in the sunlight as he raised his visor, a victorious smile on his face.
The ladies simply went mad for the pretty boy knight that couldn't be more than fifteen name days old.
In the middle of the field, once Gregor had disentangled himself from his horse and the giant found his feet. The enraged man tore off his helm and slammed it down onto the ground, leaving a small dent in the dirt beneath his feet. His large, ugly face was a deep purple with fury and his dark hair fell down into his face, almost hiding the murderous glare he sent at the back of the Tyrell boy.
"My sword!" He roared to his squire, sending the scared shitless boy into a running start in order to get the massive Greatsword out to the man quickly.
When Gregor grabbed the massive sword, he immediately swung it from its sheath in a fierce blow that beheaded his stallion that had just gotten back onto its feet as well.
The cheers for Ser Loras quickly turned into shrieks of horror as everybody caught sight of the dead horse and the demon that was Gregor Clegane striding down the lists toward Loras, his blood covered sword clenched tightly in his fist.
"Stop him!" Came the shout of Eddard Stark, the new Hand, as he stood from his seat, already reaching to pull his own Greatsword, the legendary Ice from its sheath. But the Northern Lord's words were lost in the roar unleashed by the raging giant.
It all happened rather fast.
The flowery knight of the Reach was shouting for his own sword, only to have Ser Gregor throw the boy's squire aside with one hand and make a grab for the reins of mare that had started the trouble.
Said mare caught the scent of its brethren's blood on the gauntlets of the berserk man and instinctively reared, throwing its rider from its saddle.
Rider-less, the courser cantered away in panic as Loras lay stunned in the dirt, completely vulnerable to any attack from the enraged giant above him as Gregor prepared to cleave him in half.
But as the Mountain lifted his sword for the killing blow, a rasping voice roared out, "Leave him be," and a gauntlet covered hand smashed into the man's face forcing him away from Mace Tyrell's youngest son.
At the sight of the Hound, who challenged his brother with his own Greatsword in hand, the mystery knight let the grip on their broadsword slacken and they stepped back out of the arena to let the scarred man fight.
In a wordless fury, the Mountain began swinging his sword wildly in an arc of death with all his massive strength behind it, but the Hound caught each blow and turned the other sword away each time, and for what seemed an eternity the two brothers stood hammering at each other as the still out of it Tyrell was dragged away to safety by his squire and another knight of the Reach that had come to his aide.
Three times did the mystery knight watch as Ser Gregor aim savage blows at his brother's hound-designed helmet, yet not once did Sandor send a cut at his brother's unprotected face.
No doubt meant to stop from becoming the greatest shame in the Seven Kingdoms… a Kinslayer…
It was the king's angry voice yelling out that put an end to it… well… the king's voice and at least twenty swords, several of which belonged to the members of the Kingsguard.
"STOP THIS MADNESS!" King Robert boomed, his fabled Warhammer held in hand, surprising the horned knight that the overweight man could even still hold such a heavy weapon, "IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!"
Sandor immediately dropped to one knee, his head completely evading the Mountain's blow that cut through air instead, and the giant seemed to come to his senses when Ser Barristan's sword poked at his exposed neck, with Ser Preston Greenfield's saber just below the berserker's right eye.
Gregor dropped his sword to the dirt before glaring at Robert, surrounded by his Kingsguard and a dozen other knights and guardsmen. Wordlessly, the angered titan turned and strode off, shoving past the Lord Commander.
"Let him go," Robert said, and as quickly as that, it was over.
Turning back to the lists, the black haired Usurper raised an eyebrow at the referee and the man paled as he got the King's silent order before turning back to bring out the next match between the mystery knight and Jaime Lannister, leading to the demonic looking knight to climb onto their horse and ride back out onto the field for the seventh time that day.
The mystery knight was the first rider to appear. Their demonic helm still in place, refusing to reveal its wearer's identity, much to the disappointment of the masses and wonder of the participating knights.
"A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer," Littlefinger announced loudly as Jaime Lannister entered the lists, riding an elegant blood bay destrier. The horse wore a blanket of gilded ring mail, and the Lion of the Lannisters glittered from head to heel in golden armor.
Even his lance was fashioned from the golden wood of the Summer Isles.
"Done," the King loudly shouted to the Master of Coin, having heard the smaller man's bet, many lords looking to follow the jolly drunk. "This mystery knight has been surprising me all morning; I want to see him take the fancy fuck down a peg!"
"I highly doubt it'll happen, your grace," Petyr said dryly, seeing the interest appearing on the Imp's face at the bet. "We may not know this young man, but surely such a small person won't be able to take on the Kingslayer in a joust."
The Baelish house head sighed as he noticed the King ignoring him with his electric blue eyes focused on the coming fight and he turned his own head back down, eager to win more money.
The mystery knight didn't take up any flare for the dramatic like Ser Loras in the previous match and simply took up their position on the right-end of the field, while Jaime tossed a kiss to some women in the commons section, before gently lowering his visor and he rode to the left-end of the lists.
"So it's finally just the two of us, hmm Ser?" Ser Jaime said as he rode onto the field, his shining grin in place that would make many a woman swoon, a new helmet being placed on his head to replace the dented one from a joust he had earlier. "I've been looking forward to this since our first round."
"You honor me, Ser," the horned knight said in a muffled voice behind their helmet as they readied themselves and waited for the referee to call the start.
When the call was given for them to begin, the hastily erected gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. The mystery knight leaning forward as they rode, their lance steady as a rock, but as they came close to each other, the Lannister Kingsguard shifted in his saddle deftly in the instant before impact.
The horned knight's lance was turned harmlessly against the golden shield with the lion emblazon, while the older knight's own hit square in his opponent's chest. Wood shattered from the impact and the mystery knight reeled, fighting to keep their seat, making many gasp in shock while a cheer went up from many that were betting on the golden lion.
The horned knight just barely managed to stay in their saddle, deftly jerking their mare around and riding back to the lists for the second pass.
On the opposite side of the field, Jaime Lannister tossed down the remainder his broken lance and snatched up a fresh one from Ser Barristan's newest squire. The horned knight spurred their steed forward at a hard gallop and the former Lannister heir rode to meet them.
This time, when the Kingslayer shifted his seat, his opponent shifted with him. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a rider-less blood bay was trotting off in search of grass while Jaime Lannister rolled about in the dirt, his golden chest plate dented from the force of the strike.
"Ha!" The King exclaimed with a boisterous laugh while turning towards the Master of Coins of his small council, "Pay up you little shit! I knew the blasted fuck would fall."
Littlefinger sighed as he heard those words and pulled a large pouch of gold from his sleeve, before handing it to Ser Arys to hand to the King.
Everybody cheered again when the horned knight jumped from their horse, drawing the noble's attention back to the field where the mystery knight could be seen helping Jaime Lannister back to his feet, his new ornate lion helmet meeting the same fate as his previous one with a large dent.
Grasping the helping hand, Jaime smiled brightly down at the smaller knight before bringing his head down next to where the knight's ear would be, "Nicely played little lion, why don't you end your surprise now so we can see everyone's shock?"
The former heir of Casterly Rock chuckled to himself as he felt the glare from behind his opponent's helm, having figured out who the victor was from the technique they used against him.
The technique he had had taught them…
"You're such a killjoy uncle," came the muffled voice of the mystery knight, making many raise their eyebrows in surprise at the words being spoken, wondering just who this could be to call the Kingslayer uncle, after all, the only nephews and nieces of the Kingslayer there were the royal children and they were all watching in interested shock.
Leaving the lords and king to stew in confusion for a little while longer, the two knights waited for the referee to call the winner of the joust before handing the horned knight the laurel of blue winter roses for the crowning a lady as the queen of love and beauty.
The knight smirked behind their helm as they approached the stand next to the King's pavilion where Lord Baelish sat with the Imp and several other lords and ladies, Tyrion's mismatched eyes glinted with mischief as he caught the idea of their plan, having become aware of their identity with his brother's words.
Shocking everybody, the horned knight knelt down to the Imp's level with similar mischief playing in their emerald eyes and placed the laurel on the Lannister's head, "For you milord~."
"What the fuck…?" Was all that followed the knight as they walked out of the arena, with the only one being able to speak being the stunned King, with the Lannister brothers snickering quietly.
That afternoon a boy named Anguy, an unheralded commoner from the Dornish Marches, won the archery competition, outshooting Ser Balon Swann and Jalabhar Xho at a hundred paces after all the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances.
By the time that the melee came around, it was nearly nightfall and yet many knights were raring to go, many to get revenge for their humiliating defeats at the hands of others, like Ser Gregor, and many for the 'glory' to be gained.
The competition for this event came in all shapes and sizes, and many cultures. There were Braavosi swordsmen, travelling sellswords, Hedge Knights, noble knights from the Vale or the Reach, some from the Crownlands and even a few dark skinned men from the Summer Isles; such as a massive man with bulging muscles beneath his chocolate colored skin standing with a scimitar at his side that stood next to the competitions favorite mystery knight.
With a sigh from their horned helm, the demonic knight started walking around, taking their place near the wall of the arena closest to the royal pavilion, where they would have a clear view of each and every one of the competitors, many of which they knew would be coming after them.
Especially Ser Edgar's brother, Ser Jon Upcliff, if the angry glare aimed in their direction was any indication.
There were several men mounted on their horses, probably hoping the Calvary advantage of a battlefield translated to the same effect in the melee.
"They're going to be among the first to go," the horned knight muttered to themselves, with the Summer Islander next to them raising an eyebrow in bemusement before smirking as he followed their line of sight to the mounted knights.
When the horn finally blew as the last of the stragglers ambled into the arena to fight for glory or coin before the King, all the men, knights or sellswords, rushed at each other, clashing their weapons against each other in a sound that mimicked a thunder storm.
Axes and hammers clashed against shields or breastplates and horses raced about, trampling many men while their riders swung their weapons about, trying to knock stragglers down.
The mystery of the Tourney ducked quickly, surprising many in the stands at how agile they were with their bulky armor, when Ser Edgar's brother and another man from the Vale rushed at them from two different directions.
Instead of getting their wanted effect of attacking the mystery knight, their target slammed a gauntleted fist into the Upcliff knight's stomach, blasting any hope of breath for the next minute out of the man and the mystery knight's broadsword quickly swung from its sheath to catch the other enemy knight's own blade, before a heavily armored foot swung up to catch him in the nether regions, becoming the cause for a lot of wincing from the lords and knights in the crowd that had seen that.
The mystery knight with the horned-helm was bringing a lot of the people's attention; the King and his Kingsguard's especially.
The knight surprised a great number of people when they jumped over a low swing from an polearm wielding knight from the Reach and kicked their sword struck the man across the back, making the overweight man keel over into the mud of the tourney ground, leading to the horned knight to using him as a springboard to jump at an oncoming horse, a strike from the knight's sword led to the mounted man being thrown from his steed before having his head grasped and slammed into the ground with the force of a hammer, knocking him out.
A roar was heard coming from their right and left, gaining the triumphant knight's attention and saved them from being caught by the swing of a Warhammer from a man wearing armor emblazoned with the scroll sigil of House Swygert, a house serving under House Baratheon in the Stormlands.
The demonic knight smacked their opponent across the uncovered hand holding the hammer up, causing the man to drop the heavy weapon with a cry of pain, and hurled a fist into the man's helm-covered face, with a dent in the front of his helmet, throwing him off balance into another knight from Dorne that had just taken a strike from Ser Loras.
The armored demon of the Tourney ducked under the swing of a sellsword's battleaxe and grabbed onto the man's arm, glaring at the man that looked like he belonged to the hill tribes of the Vale. The next action of the Valeman where he spit on the horned knight's helm, led to the man being head-butted hard and being dropped to the ground unconscious.
Sending a look out at the field, the mystery knight found more than half of the enemy crushed and lying down on the ground with wounds that left many groaning in pain and some dead, though the knight attributed it to Ser Gregor's handy work from where he was swatting down a knight from the Westerlands that had been brave enough to stand against him.
Seeing an opening as the white cloak of Ser Arys Oakheart appeared after taking down three different knights that had ganged up on him, the horned knight shot forward, clashing their blade with the Kingsguard.
Unfortunately, Ser Arys wasn't a Kingsguard for nothing and he swatted aside the mystery knight's sword, the two of them trading many blows, the white cloaked knight getting in several strikes against the horned knight.
Fortunately, their bout came to an end when the two were surprised by a rider-less horse came charging in, dragging its unconscious rider by the ankle and the beast barreled into the surprised Kingsguard's side, stunning him enough for the horned knight to knock him out with a blow to the temple.
The small knight then laid the unconscious man on the ground and jumped back, dodging blows from several late comer knights hoping to take advantage of their tiring exchange.
A knight from the Riverlands came after to them, longsword drawn and ready to strike the mystery knight down, said knight idly noting that it had been one of the men they had unhorsed in the Joust.
With a smirk appearing beneath the demonic helm, the accosted knight smashed a gauntleted fist into the man's side when he overextended and smashed the flat of their sword into the man's face, sending him to the dirt in a dreamless sleep.
The commoners and noblemen were cheering for the mystery knight, despite nobody except for two Lannisters knowing their identity, chanting 'Demon Knight' over and over again.
Turning to look around at the field after catching a cowardly sellsword that was running away from the fight with a close line, the horned knight became surprised to see Ser Gregor charging at them, clearly ready to strike their head from their shoulders if the way he was rearing his Greatsword back was any indication.
The 'Demon Knight's eyes darkened at the sight of the mad dog commanded by Tywin Lannister, and they reared their arm back, ready to meet the mad beast's charge with their own blade.
Ser Gregor was an abomination in every way to the Horned Knight and the mystery of the Tourney didn't care for his behavior in the Joust or his reputation. When the towering behemoth finally came close enough to his intended target, the 'Demon Knight' swung with all of their might at the Mountain, while ducking under the swing of the man's sword, the blade of the weapon barely missing the horns of their helmet.
With a roar, sounding rather like an enraged lion, the sword of the tourney mystery carved into the foreskin of the Mountain's dominant arm's elbow joint, making the giant roar in pain and just before being swatted away by the flailing of the beast's still working arm, the horned knight managed to slam their fist into the Clegane's great-helm, denting the metal.
"Ow, that fucking hurt!" The mystery knight growled out as they stood back up, not noticing the stunned silence of the arena and stands or that their helmet was lying over two yards away, revealing the lean face of a young woman in her mid-teens with soft skin and emerald green eyes. Her blonde hair looked as if it had been made from sprinkled gold dust similar to the Queen and her brothers, with said hair tied up in a spiky pony tail that reached down to the bottom of her neck that was attached to a braided-plate that connected to the area just before her bangs that fell down to her jaw.
People were immediately in an uproar after a longer moment of silence, wondering who this girl was, while many, like the queen, her children and several others who had met the first grandchild of Tywin Lannister, were bug-eyed at the sight of her standing on the field.
Feeling air on her face instead of the slightly stifling warmth that had been present since before her entrance into the city, Mordred grit her teeth as she located her missing helmet sitting in the mud. "Fucking dammit…"
Gregor turned his gaze back towards the girl with apparent disbelief in his face after he had torn his own ruined helm from his head, mostly likely surprised that he had been hurt this much by a girl, his liege's granddaughter non-withstanding. The girl's aunt, Queen Cersei, was glaring at her with eyes full of loathing that didn't bother the revealed girl; after all she had seen it for most of her life after meeting the spiteful woman for the first time.
"Hahaha! You all got your asses handed to you by a girl!" King Robert roared with laughter as he stared down into the field, having clearly overcome his own surprise. "To all of you little cunts, I am placing a reward for whoever knocks her out of the fight!"
"Twenty-thousand golden dragons to whoever is strong enough to beat this little lion!"
Mordred glared at the laughing king that acted as her uncle through her aunt, before sighing as she turned her attention back to the field where she could see all of the remaining knights and the Mountain all looking at her with greed in her eyes.
The only exceptions being Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime and the half-dozen knights that had decided to simply focus on the two Kingsguard instead.
"Begin!" Robert roared, waving his hammer around like a toy with her father Tyrion looking rather amused at her predicament. "Let's see which of you milk-suckers will be the one to bring down the girl!"
The Lannister heiress growled ferally as over twelve men along with an angry Gregor charged at her, each wanting to be the one to earn the prize money with the exception of Ser Clegane that merely wanted to take out his frustration on the girl that had fought him, his very limited common sense about how Lord Tywin would punish him severely if he killed his heir not factoring past the man's bloodlust.
Grabbing a shield from the ground, Mordred snarled as she bashed the first man to reach her across the face and she blocked the sword strike of the man following him with her broadsword. Channeling her fury at being discovered and the King's little game; the lioness swung her newly acquired shield again, imbedding it in an approaching knight's gullet and sending him down to the dirt in an attempt to breathe before taking the right hand of a brutish looking sellsword that came at her from behind.
The blonde ducked down quickly when Ser Gregor finally caught up, having smashed his way through the remaining men, with an overhead swing that would have beheaded her otherwise.
Before anything could continue, the two were interrupted by the last mounted knight charging at them with his spear trailed above him at a hair's length, nearly catching her in the neck had she not dodged. Ser Gregor violently grabbed and pulled on the reins, slamming the horse into the ground and much to the horrified cries of the gathered audience, proceeded to brutally cut the rider in half with a single strike.
Time slowed for the people as the girl that had snuck in as a mystery knight jump out from behind the downed horse, using its back as a spring and she brought her sword down on the Mountain, gaining a roar of pain as her sword slipped into the gap between the pauldron and the rest of the giant's armor, the blade sinking into the flesh between his shoulder and neck.
Flailing about in pain, Ser Gregor smashed his large fist into the girl's side, making her let go of her sword before being sent flying off to the side.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mordred cried out as she felt her side where her armor had dented in and the Lannister knew that she would be sporting a broken rib.
"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU STUPID LITTLE CUNT!" Came the roar of the enraged berserker that was the Mountain as he gave up on pulling her sword from his shoulder and armor, his bloodshot eyes glaring down on her "I'M GOING TO RIP YOU TO PIECES!"
As he began charging at her, the granddaughter of Tywin Lannister frantically looked around for anything that could save her, before her eyes fell down on a boar hunting spear of all things, 'Who the fuck brings a hunting tool to a melee!?'
Deciding to not question the strange development any further as the raging destroyer got closer, neither noticing her uncle Jaime's attempts to get closer and stop the giant, Mordred ripped the iron-shafted spear from the grasp of its deceased owner and stabbed it into the ground so that the beast before her would impale himself much like a reckless boar.
Everything went quiet, the audience and the other fighters, as the Mountain collided with the lance, not even registering the weapon before him, until it broke through his dented breastplate and impaled him in the chest, just barely missing his heart.
Ser Gregor coughed up a gout of blood and turned a confused gaze towards his chest to find the spear sticking out of him, "W-wha-t t-the fuck…!?" He tried vainly to pull the weapon from his chest, not knowing that the right side of the handle's guard had caught inside his armor, or that he was doing more damage to himself.
Mordred coughed in pain as she stood just as the Mountain dropped his Greatsword, the thirteen year old girl gave the giant of a man a bloody snarl, before grabbing a discarded sword from where it lay near one of the downed fighters and jumping at him, using Ser Jon Upcliff's unconscious body as a springboard before she buried her blade in the Mountain's skull.
"Take that… you fucking bastard!" Tyrion's daughter growled out as the giant of House Clegane stopped his frantic movements to remove the spear and his eyes rolled up to stare at the sword in his head with disbelief before the fact that his had been split caught up with the rest of his body and the Mountain that once terrorized House Clegane and the commoners around them, the monster responsible for the murder of Rhaegar's wife and children fell dead to the ground beneath him.
With a tired grunt, Mordred moved on aching legs towards the corpse of the baby slayer and grasped her sword where it was still embedded in the man's armor and shoulder, "Give me back my sword, jackass…!"
Almost all of the fighters and those that knew her personally sweat dropped at the fact that she was only angry at the fact her sword wouldn't come out, rather than be elated that she had taken someone like the Mountain out of the world of the living.
"Here, brat…" The now only Clegane said from next to her as he lent his strength to her pull and they managed to rip the blade from his brother's carcass, the Hound clearly stunned by the death of his monstrous brother, the way he died not even making him want to complain about the fact that he hadn't done it personally.
After a shocked silence that lasted another minute, the new Hand, Lord Stark began to clap, getting many to join him, before it became a full applause. The clapping grew louder and louder, drowning out any other sound.
Suddenly Mordred swayed and began to fall backwards, her eyes sliding closed as her adrenaline finally leaving her and forcing her body to fall into the realms of unconsciousness as her exhaustion caught up to her.
Sandor and Jaime caught her before she could hit the muddy ground beneath her.
And we are done! I know that Tyrion isn't officially supposed to be at King's Landing, due to going to look at the Wall, but I have it where he decided to join the King on the way down from the North for the Tourney he heard plans about and he is going to be going back North to visit the Wall and he will be kidnapped by lady Catelyn on the way there.
Also, yes the Mountain is dead much earlier than in the books, I wanted to make her debut into the Game of Thrones canon to go off with a big bang.
For those of you who have asked, the pairing for this story hasn't been confirmed yet, but so far I am leaning towards Mordred x Jon or Willas Tyrell. If you want any idea of how she looks, feel free to peruse the Type/Moon Wiki for Saber of Red.
Also I apologize for the large chapter, I wanted to get the entire Tourney done quickly.
Please review; it would warm my empty pit of a heart to get more and more of you guys' and gals' delicious reviews.
That's all for now, Iskander Mandoraekon signing out, Ja Ne.