It was boiling hot. The summer sun was making the most of the time it had here. Jon was fighting the urge to wipe his brow. Sweat was dripping down his brow, but as Tyrek hadn't complained, he wasn't going to either. They were sat in the makeshift stands that had been created for the Tourney of the Hand. A tourney that had been called by the King to honour Jon's father.
Jon knew his father had opposed the tourney due to the expense it would incur-Jon still found it insane how the King was in debt-but the King had insisted and so here they were. The events that they had witnessed so far had included the first few jousts. Ser Garlan had won against Ser Addam Marbrand. Ser Loras Tyrell had won against Lord Redwyne's eldest son and Ser Robar Royce had won against Lancel. That Lancel had been knighted had surprised Jon. Lancel was not a good swordsman and he barely attended the King, or at least he had barely attended the King before his knighthood.
Tyrek had explained that the King had seemingly granted the knighthood in return for Lord Tywin removing the interest on one of the debts the King owed him. That had disgusted him. That knighthood could be bought so cheaply made it seem so very very cheap. It wasn't right. And yet Tyrek had pointed out that that was the way of things in the south.
"Who do you think will win this?" Tyrek asked breaking into Jon's thoughts.
Jon blinked and saw who was on the tilt. Ser Jaime, dressed in golden armour, looking every inch the knight, was on the left side. Whilst on the right you had Black Walder Frey- so named because of his dark black hair.
"Ser Jaime. I think." Jon said.
"I agree." Tyrek said. The boy fell silent as they watched the joust begin. The first pass saw the two men miss one another. They turned their horses around and this time Ser Jaime hit Black Walder square in the chest though the man didn't fall off.
"How did he manage to remain ahorse?" Jon wondered.
"He's a tough bastard." The King said then.
"Your Grace?" Jon asked keeping his eyes lowered as was proper.
"Black Walder. Unlike most of his brothers he's a tough bastard. He's not going to fall off his horse that easily." The King answered.
Sure enough, on the third tilt, even if Black Walder wobbled a little on his saddle he didn't fall. On the fourth tilt he managed to hit Ser Jaime causing the man to wobble.
"If the Kingslayer falls off his horse on this next tilt, I think I might declare a week's worth of celebration." The King declared loudly before downing his cup of wine.
Jon refilled the cup when the King stuck it out and shared a grimace with Tyrek. This wasn't proper. Ser Jaime was the King's goodbrother, and he was also a knight of the Kingsguard. Surely the King should want him to succeed?
On the fifth tilt, Ser Jaime managed to unhorse Black Walder, generating cheers from most of the crowd. The King harrumphed and downed his wine. Jon filled the cup up again and stood to the side.
As they watched the next round of tilts, he found himself watching his family. Father was sat next to the King as befit his position as Hand. The Queen had taken ill so was not in attendance. Joffrey was sat next to Sansa, Sansa seemed oddly subdued. Her eyes were down, and she looked as if she'd been crying. Arya and Bran kept looking at Sansa and then at Joffrey.
Something was going on there. What it was he didn't know. Arya wouldn't tell him when he asked her, which was strange, usually Arya told him everything that was going on with her. But he had seen her and Bran exchanging concerned glances, and he had seen Sansa shoot them sharp looks that were reminiscent of Lady Stark. Maybe it was something, maybe it was nothing. But he didn't know.
To try and take his mind off that, he whispered to Tyrek. "Is Prince Tommen still unwell?"
The Prince had fallen ill a few weeks ago and hadn't yet recovered. At least not sufficiently enough to be at the Tourney. Which was a shame. Jon knew from Bran that Tommen wanted to be a knight.
Tyrek shook his head and replied. "No, and I think I know why."
Jon looked at his friend and whispered. "What do you mean?"
Tyrek didn't answer instead he simply looked at Prince Joffrey.
Jon took his meaning and felt pure horror slip through him. Was that what was causing Sansa's tears? Was that what was causing Arya and Bran to act so strangely?
"How long?" He eventually whispered.
"Long enough." Came the response.
Jon wanted to push further but before he could a loud roar drew his attention. The crowd was cheering and for good reason it seemed. Ser Loras was holding Sandor Clegane's hand up in the air. The Mountain meanwhile was backing away fuming. How had that happened? What had he missed?
Jon risked a look at the King and saw that the man was glaring at the Mountain's retreating form.