The morning of the final day of the joust had come. The last competition was to be spectacular, and already people were placing bets about who would stand victorious at the day's end. Many placed their money on the normal prospects. Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy and Prince Rhaegar all found collective fortunes pinned to their names as the betting continued. Most of the Westerlands though seemed to be placing their money on the Spartans, though a few still bet on the previous three.
Kurt watched from the stands as the sixteen knights who had held the champion pavilions rode out before the cheering and adoring crowds. His Spartans got a good round of applause, though it was absolutely drowned out by the cheers that erupted when Prince Rhaegar took the field after them. Together, the champions sat their horses before the entire realm, with Rhaegar and Ser Arthur in the middle of the group and the rest on either side of them. They rested in a line and according to Tywin, the sixteen finalist would draw lots to decide who was to face who. He watched as a judge beckoned each man forwards, pointing them to a box that held the various lots. As the men rode up and drew their numbers, there was great encouragement from the assembled guests even though no one knew exactly who was facing who yet.
Lord Yohn Royce was the last of the champions to draw a lot, receiving a cheer as he trotted back to his place.
"Now my lords." The judge said. "Your straws are coloured by different dyes. If the two contestants who drew the green lots could come forwards, we can begin the first round."
Two horses were urged forwards, and Kurt could have laughed if the situation wasn't so precarious. Shane and Tom both turned to look at each other, seeing the green lots in each other's hands. The audience murmered and whispered. The two undefeated knights of Terra would face each other in the very first round of the competition.
Kurt felt Tywin's eyes on him and turned to meet them.
"This is unexpected." There was a coldness in his eyes and voice that Kurt would equate to admiral Parangosky when something didn't go her way. It was perhaps the only reason he considered Tywin even close to a threat, as anyone who could mirror the sheer calculated capability of the head of ONI was someone Kurt didn't want as an enemy in any way.
"The original plan was to have only Tom in the Joust. This doesn't present any problems that the scenario did not already have planned means of dealing with."
Tywin's look lessened, Kurt wouldn't saw it softened as much as was reduced.
"Very well."
The other competitors were directed onto the sidelines while Shane and Tom took their places on either side of the lists. Being handed lances by a pair of attendants, the two locked themselves into form and charged.
Rhaegar watched as Ser Shane and Tom crashed together, breaking their eleventh lances as they passed. The first round had become a spectacle to behold, with the people cheering with every shattered lance. Already, the two Spartans had proven impecable jousters with their reputation to defeat anyone in a single tilt. That they had needed eleven so far, and seemed to be looking little worse for wear, was astonishing. Shane and Tom grabbed another pair of lances, rounding the bend and speeding towards each other. Rhaegar watched as they crashed again. Both lances landed square on the other's breastplate, but this time, Ser Tom reached forwards with his broken lance.
The shattered weapon continued on and Tom planted its base against Shane's chest. With a mighty heave, he pulled his fellow Spartan out of his saddle, rather than trying to knock him off. The lance proped against Shane's armour acted as a way for Tom to push Shane down with his own strength, as opposed to the impact from fragile wood. Shane had no time to recover and in surprise the grip on the reigns of his horse tightened. The beast felt his master tug hard, and reared up in protest with a whine. The change in angle only serves to help Tom as he pulled rather than knocked Shane out of his seat.
The Alpha company Spartan seemed to almost hover in the air for a moment, carried by Tom's strength and the horse's speed, but soon gravity reasserted itself and Shane was send falling into the dirt. The crowd roared as Ser Tom showed and trotted along the list. Shane was on his feet in seconds and turned to regard his Beta company brother. He offered a quick gesture, two fingers drawn over his helmet before he turned to retireve his horse. Ser Tom rode in front of the crowd for a moment, allowing the people to cheer for him before moving to the area reserved for the competitors.
Once he was there Rhaegar saw lord Brandon Stark congratulate the man, as well as several others. The prince only observed the Spartan. He had pulled off his helmet, revealing a face that was clean and free of grime and almost devoid of sweat. Such a thing shouldn't be possible, breaking twelve lances with a knight of such skill as his fellow should have left any normal man exhausted and heaving, not mildly winded as Ser Tom seemed to be.
"Something's off about them." He muttered to himself. "Are they what they seem?"
"Rhaegar?" Arthur asked, startling the prince from his reprieve.
"Arthur." He said. "Apologies, I was merely thinking."
"I could see. Anything specific?"
The question was rhetorical. Rhaegar knew it, and Arthur knew Rhaegar knew it. It was obvious what was making the prince think so much, it had just entered the area. Still, the prince answered.
"It is of no consequence my friend. No man can stop what is destined."
Arthur looked worried for a moment but his expression relaxed and he patted the prince on the shoulder.
"As you say."
Ned watched the rest of the joust take place with something akin to disappointment. Of course some of the bouts had been entertaining, but after seeing the two knights of Terra break eleven lances against each other and the way Ser Tom had finished his opponent he knew he was not alone in thinking that the remaining competitors would not measure up.
"It's all just boring in comparison, isn't it?"
He turned to see Lyanna watching as Ser Arthur unseated the Rykker knight who had lasted two tilts against the Spartans. The man had made a good showing, lasting three lances against the sword of the morning and being unseated on his fourth.
"They are all extraordinary jousters, and Brandon is up next."
"I suppose." Lyanna said. Her eyes flickered over to Robert as he watched Brandon and Jon Connington take their places. Rather than cheer on his countryman, Robert was echoing the sentiments of the Northern lords he was with, encouraging Brandon at lord Connington's detriment. A few of Robert's bannermen seemed to be unhappy with their lord's abandoment of one of their own, and Ned almost felt the need to interceed on Robert's behalf. Almost, but if his friend wanted to cheer on his brother, he wasn't about to stop him.
Brandon and Connington raced down the list, readying their lances. As they passed Brandon's caught lord Connington on the chest, where the stormlord's own lance only slammed into Brandon's shield. He managed to stay on his horse though, and the two passed on to ready themselves for another pass. As they did. Brandon managed to strike first, sending the griffin lord into the dirt. Ned allowed himself a cheer as his brother all but strutted along, soaking in the applause and praise.
Kurt leaned back as the matches continued. It was amazing to him that this was considered such a popular sport amongst the Westerosi. It was just people riding in a straight line and hitting each other with blunt sticks. Kurt could name at least a dozen sports back on the Plataea that were far more interesting to watch. Still, the energy of the crowd was somewhat infectious, and Kurt would be lying if he said that it wasn't gratifying to see his Spartans laying waste to the competition.
The first of the semi-final matches were taking place, and Tom was facing off against Ser Barristan Selmy of the kingsguard. From what Kurt knew, Ser Barristan was widely considered to be one of, if not the, deadliest fighters in the world, and seeing Tom up against him made Kurt proud. The match had been the second longest Tom had ever fought in the joust, as he and Ser Barristan each grabbed their third lances. Ser Barristan's greater experience in tourney jousting seemed to allow him to narrow some of the difference in their strength and speed, as Tom had so far only his the kingsguard's shield rather than his armour. The two sped down the list, but this time Tom had prepared. He managed to feint with the lance enough that Barristan's shield was out of position and so with a mighty crash, he unseated the bold knight.
The people, esspecially those of the Westerlands, cheered as Ser Tom once again retreated back into the participant's tent while Prince Rhaegar and Ser Arthur Dayne emerged. The prince had done well over the course of the tourney. He had ridden against Yohn Royce in the first tilt, unseating the man in three lances. His second match had been against Brandon Stark, who had lasted a total of five lances against the prince. Ser Arthur would be his last match before the finals, and the prince likely meant to advance.
Not that the sword of the morning had any intention of giving his prince an easy victory. He had faced the knight of house Rykker in the first tilt, and then another knight of house Hightower in the second. He had won both times of course, but neither were easily earned.
Kurt himself had little investment in which of the two won the match, all it meant was two different colours of armour that Tom would have to aim at in the next round. The Spartan Captain allowed himself a certain level of vain pride to show as he watched Rhaegar eventually unseat the Dornish kingsguard. The crowd however seemed much more invested, as they cheered their silver minstrel prince. Finally, Tom emerged from the tent, taking up his place as he and Rhaegar prepared for the next round.
There was to be a short break, in order to allow both sides to recuperate and be in best form, esspecially as the sun was high in the sky and the heat of the day was building up. Both Tom and Rhaegar sat in shaded pavilions, though while Rhaegar was waited on by an entourage of squires, Tom sat alone, drinking from a cannister.
Kurt allowed his eyes to find his Spartans, and saw that all three members of team foxtrot were looking at him, beseeching him with their eyes. He almost rolled them, but nodded slightly. The three Beta company Spartans got up from their seats with the lords of various kingdoms, quickly saying their farewells before they all disappeared. In moments, they were rounding the turn into the field and approached Tom as he sat staring at the prince.
Adam and Min checked over their teammate's armour, looking for any flaws, while Lucy handed him another container of water and sat by his side. Kurt could hear several of the people around him muttering about the three and how they had simply barged from the stands into the arena but few really saw it with any kind of discontent.
Tom took the cantine from Lucy with a quick thanks, downing it quickly as Adam and Min reported no damage to his armour and that it was securely fastened to him.
"God, wearing this shit really makes you miss your Mjolnir doesn't it?" Adam asked.
"I'm going to petition the captain to let me sleep in mine for a week once we get back." Min agreed.
"You didn't even have to wear this crap armour." Adam countered. "You and Lucy were in the archery."
"Still, I feel naked, being out for so long." Min said, which drew a nod from Lucy.
"Same." She signed. "I say we ask the captain to give us a week long survival drill to cool off. I hear he wants to send some of the egg heads up past the wall to get some samples."
"Tom wins this thing and there's no way he'd say no." Adam said. "Hear that Tom? Win this thing and we get a week straight in Mjolnir."
If he hadn't already been intent on winning for the mission, the idea that his team had thought up was fuel added to the fire. Ever since coming to Westeros, going anywhere by local means, esspecially if they were accompanying the locals, meant that using their Mjolnir armour was out. It drew too much attention and was far too heavy to properly house. Fair Isle and the Plataea were the only places Spartans could really use it, and walking around a tiny island was a little suffocating. It was why so many Spartans had begun helping the naval personel to build more permanent structures to call home, rather than the cramped crew quarters of the ship.
"I'll get it done." He said, cracking his knuckles.
"Lords and Ladies." The judge announced a while later. "It is time for the final joust. Would both contestants mount their steeds and ready their lances."
Tom got up and put on his helmet before he mounted his horse deftly. Adam waved off the servant who was coming with the lance and handed it to Tom himself. As one the three Beta company Spartans offered their comrade a final sign. They quickly swiped two fingers across their faces in a 'Spartan smile' one of the signals each company had been taught by their captain.
Tom returned the gesture, pulling the lance under his arms and turning to charge at Rhaegar. This final round was the mission. Show off the old lion's power by taking down everyone else and honouring his daughter. Honestly Tom couldn't have cared less for the symbolism of what they were doing and just wanted to get it done. Still, the more spectacularly he got his mission done the likelier it was that his team's request was granted. The logic was sound, and so he reached a slight bit more into his massive reserves of strength that had so far been so very underused. The muscles in his arms clenched and had the armour been normal Westerosi metal there would have been a few dents from where the clenched super-dense muscle struggled against the steel.
As he came within striking distance of prince Rhaegar Tom allowed a fraction more strength than was wise to power his thrust. The lance tip struck like lightning and Rhaegar found himself with a dented breastplate, rolling on the floor as Tom unhorsed him in a single tilt.
Kurt sat with Tywin up in the stands, watching as Tom got ready to charge against prince Rhaegar. Sitting below them, at the edge where the stands were against the arena, Cersei was sitting with her fellow ladies. Kurt watched her as she watched Rhaegar.
"Have you told her about what will happen lord Tywin?" He asked.
The lord of Casterly Rock didn't take his eyes off of the list.
"I have informed her that she will be honoured by the victor of the tourney. She will react in the manner which is appropriate."
"That's good I suppose. Still, is there anything that we will have to deal with after the crowning?"
"Some minor attention I'm sure." Tywin waved it away. "However, you will be free to leave the tourney on the morrow, as the competition will be finished. We should see another day or so of celebration before the festivities are fully finished, but this will be the most important moment of the tourney."
"Good." Kurt said.
The two men watched as prince Rhaegar was unseated in a single blow, sent sprawling into the dirt as Tom moved across the trodden ground to stop at the other end of the list. A judge came out and gestured to the Spartan.
"Lords and ladies of the realm, we have our champion. May I present, Ser Tom of house Terra, champion of the joust!"
The grounds errupted into cheers as another man brought out a small pillow. On it's surface was a crown woven from blue winter roses. Tom rode forwards, picking up the crown and turning around to show it to the stands.
"Who do you think he will pick?" Lyanna asked, watching as Ser Tom took the crown.
Ned thought he could almost see a flash of jealousy in her eyes, but Lyanna had always been an admirer of blue winter roses, loving their colour and their special time of bloom.
"Likely it'll be lady Lucy." Robert said as he too watched Ser Tom. "They've danced together every night since the tourney began, and only with each other."
"Aye." Brandon nodded. "Perhaps they're betrothed, and didn't want anyone to know."
"Do you think they might have married in secret?" Lyanna asked. "Perhaps their love is forbidden, and now he has the chance to announce it to the realm."
"You've become so soft since we came her Lya." Benjen scoffed. "Crying at the prince's songs and now dreaming of forbidden romance? Where is my sister who wanted to ride horses through the wolfswood all day long?"
"She's planning to pour wine on your head again if you don't shut up." Lyanna growled at her brother. Brandon, Eddard and Robert all laughed at the two's antic, but silently agreed that the lady Lucy was most likely to be given the crown.
Rhaegar watched in shock as ser Tom claimed the victor's crown of roses. He didn't understand how this had occured. Of course, he understood that he had lost. He had been hit and had fallen from his horse, but his loss should not have been possible.
Fate willed that he was to win this tourney. If Elia could not give him the ice to his fire, something he was beginning to fear more and more as he poured over ancient texts and prophesies, then Lyanna was the only way for him to fulfill his destiny. The crown of roses should go to her, from his own hand, so that the pact could be set into motion. The taking of multiple wives was a tradition no longer allowed even to the Targaryens, but for the sake of the realm and birth of the prince who was promised he was sure that the faith would see reason.
Now though, all that destiny had laid before him had been stripped away, all at the hands of the strange knight who now trotted along the front of the stands towards the Westerlands' box. Rhaegar's eyes were drawn to the old lion Tywin and the lord of house Terra Kurt Ambrose. The two men shared a look and exchanged words that Rhaegar could not hear before both looked between ser Tom and Tywin's daughter Cersei, who was seated at the front of the Westerlands' box and was practically shaking with excitment and glee. In a moment of clarity Rhaegar understood. Those two had set these strange, impossible events into motion, he was sure of it. Tywin himself had stolen his chance at destiny right out from under him, using the knights of lord Terra.
That the two men controlled warriors powerful enough to alter Rhaegar's own fate was something that he almost feared, but he consoled himself. No man could change fate. This was but a bump in the road, he reasoned, just an obstacle to test his faith, to challenge his resolve. He would overcome this. He would overcome his father, his cousin, the houses Stark and Baratheon. He would defeat the subterfuge of house Lannister and even the power of house Terra. He would bring about the return of the dragons and give rise to the prince that was promised. He had to, otherwise all was lost. The long night was returning, the cold winds were rising. Rhaegar knew that if he did nothing, all would be lost, and the world would lose the warmth of life and be blanketed in a deep winter that would never thaw.
Cersei sat surrounded by her ladies as ser Tom of house Terra rode towards their box, crown of roses in hand. When her father had informed her that she would be honoured by the winner of the tourney she had been ecstatic. Prince Rhaegar himself was one of the two finalists, and the beautiful dragon prince could never lose. Her father must have convinced the silver haired heir to the iron throne of her worth over his sickly Dornish bride, irregardless of her burgeoning belly. How the prince had even considered her was mindboggling to the young lady. She had chalked it up to a bout of Aerys' madness as so many declared he had lost his mind with his alienation of his hand.
She had almost cried whe ser Tom had won the joust instead. She had seen the man dance with his brutish lady Lucy every night of the tourney. Cersei could admit the woman was somewhat beautiful, though not so lovely as she was, but she chose to hide what elegance she might have had in men's clothing and appaling choices in grooming. Her hair was cut so short it could be mistaken for a man's and her throat bore a massive ugly scar that had injured her voice terribly.
Still, the young knight, or Spartan, as she had heard the term tossed around over the last few years since their appearance at Casterly Rock, had spent practically every spare moment with the tall manly woman. They had spent the entire tourney eating together, ignoring the requests of others at the feasts to dance and instead dancing with each other when the mood struck them. She turned in her seat in order to speak to her father, perhaps he could do something about this horrible usurpation of her rightful acknowledgement by the prince. What she saw however was strange. Her father seemed... content. She could hardly remember the last time she had seem him look that way, not since her mother died surely. Still, lord Tywin Lannister watched ser Tom claim the crown of roses with a look of approval and suddenly the gears clicked in Cersei's mind. This was what her father meant. It was ser Tom who was meant to win the joust, and present her with the crown. He would pass up all of the ladies of the realm, including his own supposedly beloved lady Lucy,
and crown her instead.
Pride flared in her chest and she turned back in her seat as ser Tom approached. This was it, all was indeed right with the world, and Cersei was about to be recognised as the most desired woman in Westeros. Men would choose to honour her over their own lady loves. She almost wanted to see lady Lucy's face as ser Tom handed her the crown, but chose instead to ignore the brute and bask in her well deserved glory.
"My lady." Ser Tom was now in front of her, presenting her with the victor's crown and a strong, resounding voice.
This was right, she thought to herself. All the men and women of the realm should hear as he declared her queen of love and beauty.
"Would you do me a great honour, accept this gift, and the title that goes with it? Lady Cersei Lannister, will you be my queen of love and beauty?"
Cersei preened as the ladies looked on in jealousy.
"Ser Tom, of course. It would be my great honour." She bowed her head slightly and allowed ser Tom to place the crown on her head. He took her hand then in his. Cersei noticed that it was had, riddled with calouses much like Jamie's. He turned her hand over and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles and retreated on his horse.
As he dismounted his horse and made to ascend to the stands he was joined by his companions. Cersei made sure to send lady Lucy a haughty look. She was the true queen, chosen over her even by her own beloved knight who had been so publicly close to her. What she was not prepared for was that Lucy would meet her gaze and offer her a smile and a slight wave, falling into line next to Ser Min, seperated from ser Tom by him and ser Adam.
The crowd whispered and gossiped. Of course she had not been the only one to notice the closeness of lady Lucy and ser Tom, and now many whispered around her. Cersei sat tall. Let them cluck like old hens, she was queen of love and beauty, declared so my the man who had unseated the prince in a single clash. No one could gainsay such a decision without incuring the wrath of not only ser Tom, but her father.
Kurt and Tywin watched as Tom, Lucy, Adam and Min emerged to sit in their places right beside Shane, Robert and Jane. Tom made the necessary show of rising from his seat to again pay deference to lady Cersei, which the young woman ate up without hesitation.
"Well done Ambrose." Tywin offered legitimate congratulations to his bannerman.
"Thank you my lord." Kurt responed.
"The feast will require ser Tom to be at my daughter's side, I'm sure he and the lady Lucy will not find this disagreeable." The man's tone told Kurt that it had better not be, but Kurt wasn't nervous, nor truly intimidated.
"No problem at all lord Tywin, Tom will be by lady Cersei's side all through the festivities tonight, and in the morning."
"I'll have him stay with me for the last day. The rest will begin the joruney back to the Plataea."
"Good, see to it that it is done. I will need an escort back to Casterly Rock once my resignation as hand is complete, you will acompany me to King's Landing and then back to the Westerlands to begin the mining for the new diamond veins bordering Ashmark's territory."
Kurt nodded.
"Of course, but lord Tywin, is it a good idea to resign as hand, it will lose the Westerlands a significant amount of power."
"You mean it will lose you a significant amount of power. Don't think me a fool Ambrose. I know you have sided with me in exchange for power and security. I assure you you will still have it, regardless of my wearing a badge or not."
Kurt wanted to roll his eyes but instead just nodded.
"Very well."
And there we go. The joust is done and the first major change in the timeline occurs. I honestly had a great time writing the reactions to the victory from the North, Stormlands, Rhaegar and Cersei. Did she feel out of character? Please let me know Now we see a few different reactions to Tom's win and we see some general characterisation for everyone, especially the Spartans. Now the problem with having the S-IIIs here is that while there are a lot in principle, most have no 'character' on paper. There are only a few non-noble S-IIIs of Alpha and Beta who are named, and I've used most of them. I may have to introduce OC Spartans but I will try to do that sparingly. Hope you liked and see you next chapter.