CHAPTER 4

(The Tourney)

LYARRA SNOW

The day dawned bright and warm (for the north), but I couldn't enjoy it. I didn't sleep a wink last night; the nerves and the excitement kept me thinking and awake.

I scoffed down the breakfast that was handed to me, used the chamber pot about a dozen times and began the climb down from my tower - Bran was going to meet me in the Goodwood to help me don my armour.

Only a few people remained in the castle, as most had made their way past the North Gate, where the tourney pitches had been erected.

In the Gods wood, I found Arya and Bran, with my horse and armour laid out for me, they had even oiled and polished it, scraping away the rust.

"Come on Lya!" Shouted Arya, "you're going to be late."

She was not wrong, by the time I had waited for most people to leave, climbed down the tower, and put on my armour, I was in danger of being disqualified before the first tilt!

Assuring me they'd be fine, I covered speared dirt on my face and then lowered my helmets visor, I then left Bran and Arya and spurred my horse on as fast as she could gallop, to the fields outside the North Gate.

I arrived at the ground and was shown the way to my tent. I tied my horse up outside and entered, finding I would be sharing the tent with two others.

"Ah, we have another roommate, excellent." Said the plain man, who's armour was as rough as mine was. His voice was snarky, and he was drinking a flagon of ale, which he offered to me.

"Don't drink anything he gives you!" Shouted the bigger man, no, not a man, a woman!

"You're a girl!" I exclaimed. The Blonde woman scowled.

"Don't remind her." Chortled the man. "I am Sir Hyle Hunt by the way, and this fair woman, is the maid of Tarth, Brienne. And you're?"

"Sir Wallace Weirwood."

"Ahh, a northern savage, well at least you're not a Frey." He said.

"Leave him be, sir." Said Brienne,

"Careful Sir Wallace, I think the maid of Tarth likes you, perhaps you'll be the one to finally take her maidenhead. Gods imagine that! A little slip of a thing like you, fucking a big freak like that, it would be like a Dwarf fucking a giant!"

His laughter was cut off by Brienne, who stumped over to him, her hand on her sword. Sir Hyle put his hands up and apologized. When her back was turned, he winked at me. I found I didn't like Sir Hyle very much. Were all Knights this crass?

A young squire came in to break the tension. He announced who our first tilts would be - all three of us were paired with Frey's. Sir Hyle would have the honour of first joust.

When he left, I began to pace nervously up and down the tent.

"You're a girl. Arn't you?" Said Brienne matter-of-factly.

I blanched. "How did you know?"

"A woman knows ... "

"Don't tell anyone. Please."

"I'll keep your secret. And don't worry about Sir Hyle, he has a smart mouth, but shit for brains, if you keep your visor down, and talk gruffly, he'll take you for a young boy, playing at being a man, not a girl."

"Thank you."

Brienne nodded and handed me a flagon of water, which I sipped, not wanting to fill up my bladder.

A roar came from the crowd outside, signalling that someone had won. A minute later Sir Hyle came swaggering into the tent, with a smug expression.

"The fat oaf, fell off his horse before I could so much as poke him."

"A win by default, very honourable. "Muttered Brienne.

"A win us a win, fuck honour, you're up next Wally." Said Sir Hyle.

I held in a nauseous burp and walked shakily to the pitch. I was glad to have Winter with me, she soothed me, and I hoped I soothed her. The young squire from earlier handed me a lance, which was heavier than the ones I practiced with, but I did my best not to show it.

I faced my first foe of the day. It was a scrawny looking Frey, with the characteristic weasel face and pimply nose. I think the announcer said he was a Walder, one of many.

The gong rang and we charged. The boy was stronger than me, everyone was stronger than me, but I was better at sitting a horse, I was also more agile.

I didn't even attempt to strike him with my lance, instead I covered myself with my Weirwood shield and dodged the Frey's lance, with relative ease.

The Frey camp jeered at me, and I heard a few boos, but I paid them no heed. I had a plan. We lined up again for the second charge, and I did exactly the same thing. More boos.

When the third tilt started, I saw Walder was pissed, he overextended himself trying to reach me, I swerved and tapped him lightly with my lance, it was enough, he toppled into the dirt and the announcer pronounced "Winner, Wallace Weirwood,."

I bounced back into the tent.

"And Sir Wallace returns victorious. Which Frey did you bravely defeat?" Sir Hyle asked.

"The ugly one."

"Which one?"

"The one with pimples?"

"Which one?"

"The one named Walder."

"Which one." Both Brienne and Sir Hyle said. Despite myself I laughed.

The rest of the day past in a haze. I unhorsed dozens of Frey's, a few river lords and a minor Vale lording, a Templeton I think. It was a sweet day, Sir Hyle was good company, once you got past his glib exterior, he once made me laugh so much, I snorted water out of my nose.

Brienne was a like the big sister I never had. She dressed my wounds, kept me hydrated and fed, and stood guard when I needed to pee.

It couldn't last though. We were tied joint first in our division. Brienne would face off against Sir Hyle and the winner would face me. Whoever won that match, would then get to joust in front of the King!

I cheered for Brienne as she faced down Sir Hyle. All though I had grown to like Sir Hyle, I hoped Brienne would win, as she had been the butt of half his jokes that day.

She didn't disappoint. She was freakish strong for a woman, and she shattered sir Hyle's shield on the first tilt. To his credit Sir Hyle held on but was looking shaky as he lined up for the second tilt. This one would be his last.

Brienne charged and lifted him off his horse with her lance, almost skewering him, and dumped him into the dust. She was a good sport though and offered him her hand, Sir Hyle took it, cracking a joke to show there was no hard feelings.

A few minutes past and it was my turn. I looked at Brienne and gone was the big sister-like look of concern and it its place was cold determination.

Winter began to trot, then gallop, I employed the method I had used all day, I tried to swerve her lance, but this time instead of missing me, or scratching me, it made contact, and it was only my superior riding skills that kept me a horse.

The lance bounced off my shield, chipping it, and hit my other shoulder. It was painful, I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming.

Brienne was quick. I needed to be quicker. I dropped my lance for the second tilt, which confused her and the crowd. And raced against her with only my shield.

SHE lunged forward and her horse toppled beneath her. I had won.

"Winner Sir Wallace Weirwood. He will be facing next, Sir Jamie Lannister, on the Kings pitch."

RHAEGAR TARGARYEN

I was watching the jousting, without really paying attention. I had been at a thousand tourney's by now. I knew when to smile, when to clap, when to stand up. It was automatic.

While my body remained in the present, my mind was visiting the events of last night, when my son and daughter visited Elia and I, in our chambers.

"Visenya's tomb is empty. There's no bones father." Aegon had said.

I had checked the tomb myself, and Aegon was right. I had no idea what to make of it. Ever since I had arrived in Winterfell, everything felt off. Mendacity reeked from the walls. Both Lord Eddard Stark and his heir, were watching me and mine, like an eagle.

There was something fishy about his bastard too. I had never seen her, whenever I brought the subject up, Lord Eddard would make an excuse and parry the question. Until this morning, I hadn't had room to breathe, for he had buried me in duties and meetings.

There was a nagging feeling of disquiet, that gnawed at my bowels. My daughters missing body, a hidden bastard that could sing (apparently), rancour and hostility, lies and mystery's. The most honourable man in the seven kingdoms was lying to me. Something was wrong in Winterfell, and I was going to find out what.

Elia - once she found out - wanted to march in Starks chambers and confront him. But I cautioned against it. We needed to be smart, my time in Kings-landing had taught me to smile when I wanted to grimace, to compliment when I wanted to rebuke, and to remain patient when I wanted to rage.

I looked over to the stands opposite to me, probing Lords Starks face for any discomfort. His face was carved from ice, stoic and unyielding. I would not get any information there. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I saw a flash of hate in those cold grey eyes.

"Up next, Sir Jamie Lannister. Vs. Sir Wallace Weirwood." I clapped and smiled genially, my eyes were still exploring Lord Stark, until the Sir Wallace caught my attention.

The joust had been halted a moment, because it seemed Sir Wallace was refusing to take a lance. I looked at the Knight. And tried to recall a house "Weirwood", I couldn't. I looked over to Lord Stark and saw that his eyes were crinkled in confusion.

I looked back at Sir Wallace. He was a small man, very skinny. His visor covered his face, so I had no idea how old he was.

He was most likely quite poor, as his armour was dented, and looked cobbled together, with mismatching gauntlets, odd boots, and a discoloured breastplate. It was as though he had scavenged the armour from dead-men post battles, like he had seen many common foot soldiers too. Perhaps Sir Wallace had been a veteran of Roberts Rebellion.

Elia gasped and I heard her whisper "Lyanna's shield". I couldn't believe it! Sir Wallace was carrying Lyanna's weirwood shield. I would recognize that shield anywhere. She had given it to her little brother Ben Stark, before we left Harrenhal, and he had taken it with him to Winterfell.

Was Sir Wallace, Ben Stark? No too small. I looked at Lord Eddard, it seemed he had recognized the shield too. Was it me, or was his reaction, a little too fake?

"They're torturing us. The Starks." Said Elia hoarsely in my ear, so Rhaenys and Aegon wouldn't here. "Bringing up memories of Lyanna, to make us suffer."

I was inclined to agree. My confusion, curdled in anger, and it took every ounce of strength I had to keep my face placid. Once this joust was over, I was going to have a little talk with this "Sir Wallace". I would break him. Get him to confess, that the Starks had paid him to mentally torture us, then I'd make him regret 'waking the dragon'.

"Why's he refusing a lance?" Said Rhaenys amused.

"He probably plans to beat Sir Jamie off his horse with his hands, his is a northerner after all." Said Aegon.

"He's either very brave or very stupid." Said Rhaenys.

"Both, most like." I replied.

The squires gave up harassing 'Sir Wallace' and left him be, shaking his head. The gong sounded and the knight raced towards Sir Jamie, like a fiend possessed.

I was loathed to admit this, but the Northman could ride well, horse and man were one.

"Gods. They even taught him to ride like Lyanna." exclaimed Elia in my ear.

Sir Jamie lowered his lance and lazily tried to swat Sir Wallace off his horse, clearly too overconfident. Damned Lannister pride.

Sir Wallace hung side-ways to dodge the lance, and swiftly got back up on the saddle, once he was in the clear.

This dance repeated itself for five more tilts.

"Is he trying to bore Sir Jamie to death?" Japed Aegon.

Jamie was not bored. He was furious. Each time he failed to land a blow he got angrier and angrier, leaning further and further off his saddle to score a winning strike.

By the time the six tilts began, he was seething. The two knights charged faster than ever, Sir Wallace leaned back as Sir Jamie thrust, but this time he grabbed Sir Jamies lance and yanked. Using his weight and momentum against him.

I watched dumbfounded as my Kings guard toppled into the mud, groaning.

I looked over at Lord Tywin, who was glaring daggers at Sir Wallace. Back off old Lion, this prey is mine.

ARTHER DAYNE

I had recognized that shield instantly and knew from the fidgeting of the King and Queen they had too. Between Sir Wallace, and Visenya's missing bones, I knew trouble was not far away.

That thought made me grip the hilt of Dawn as I walked towards Sir Wallace's tent, white cloak billowing behind me. People muttered as I walked past, I paid them no heed. I was on a mission.

The King had sent me to find this Sir Wallace and bring him to his tent, by any means possible. I hope Sir Wallace put up a fight. How dare he use Lyanna's shield to torture her loved ones. I hadn't known Lyanna for long, but what little time I spent guarding the she-wolf was not work, it was a pleasure. She used to make me laugh, like only my sister could. And that bastard was sullying her memory.

I entered the tent, two royal guardsmen with me, not that I needed them and found three people. A great big blonde woman everyone was talking about, the maid of Tarth, a prosaic hedge Knight named Sir Hyle hunt, who once wiped his nose on my white cloak at a feast, and lastly Sir Wallace, visor still down, covering his face.

It seemed I had caught them mid-celebration. They paled when they saw me.

"Sir Arther, to what do I owe the pleasure? Is it about the cloak, because I can assure you the whipping was -"

"I'm not here for you Sir Hyle. I'm here on Kings business. His grace demands your presence in his tent, Sir Wallace." I said.

Two guards stepped towards Sir Wallace, who looked even smaller up close. The Tarth girl blocked him from view, hand on her sword. I gripped my sword too.

Sensing danger, Sir Hyle tugged the woman's shoulders.

"Forget it Brienne, it's Sir Arther. Let it be." Said Sir Hyle.

But the lady knight refused to move. She was a stubborn as she was ugly.

"It'll be alright Brienne, the King has asked for me, I must obey. I'll be fine. I promise." Said Sir Wallace.

His voice was un-mistakenly northern. And quite high, although the man tried to make his voice deep, it was quite cute really. Was Sir Wallace a little boy? He sounded like a young squire.

"Let me come with him." Brienne pleaded.

"No." I said.

"I'll be fine Brienne." Said Sir Wallace again. And to my surprise he hugged the Lady around the waist and went willingly.

I led the way to the Kings tent, Sir Wallace behind me, with the two guards flanking him. We made good time, as people parted way for us. I drew most of the stares, but a few curious glances were directed at Sir Wallace. Word had got around about this weirwood knight who had unhorsed Sir Jamie without a lance.

I entered the Kings tent, catching the tail end of the conversation.

"It fires three bolts, your grace, takes down the horse and the man, it works via crank." I heard Joffrey Baratheon say, showing his grace his new crossbow.

He was the oldest son of Renly Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. Renly was nice enough, but Cersei was a shit. And Joffrey took after her. The King only tolerated him as his cup bearer, because his grandfather was Lord Tywin.

All talk ceased when I entered. All eyes turned on Sir Wallace and I. Rhaegar was stoic - which meant he was fuming. Elia was scowling openly. Rhaenys and Aegon looked confused. Joffrey looked predatory. And my brothers of the Kings guard flanked our king, swords at the ready. Sir Jamie looked particularly vengeful.

I pushed Sir Wallace in front of me, and he fell on his knees before the King. I walked over to the king and handed over Lyanna's weirwood shield. Then turned to face, the small Northman.

"Sir Wallace Weirwood." Said Rhaegar imperiously.

"Yes, your grace." Said Sir Wallace.

"You rode well today; I was quite surprised."

"Thank you, your grace."

I found it odd that Northman still had his visor down.

"I thought I might give your house a special reward, for such an achievement, new lands, gold, a trading deal ... so I looked into the histories of the northern houses, to see where house Weirwood lived, and what they needed most. And too my surprise, I found no house Weirwood on any maps, or in any histories."

"The map is not the land, your grace." Said Sir Wallace.

I had to admit the Northman was good. He kept his composure, shaking only a little.

"Where did you get this shield?" Said Rhaegar pointedly. Holding up the shield.

"It's a family shield, your grace."

And now Rhaegar had him.

"I beg to differ with you, sir, but you must be mistaken, because I know who this shield belonged too."

The Northman said nothing. Rhaegar let the silence hang.

"My Queen, please inform Sir Wallace, who's shield this was."

"Gladly my love ... it was Queen Lyanna Starks."

"What!?" Sir Wallace said, acting surprised. Oh, he was a very good actor.

"End this mummer's farce, sir, you're caught. We know the Starks sent you to torture us, with Lyanna's memory. Confess."

"I PROMISE you, your grace. The Starks have nothing to do with it. I found the shield, I swear. I haven't even met the Starks."

"Really ... That's interesting. Because I was speaking a certain tourney agent, who said Lord Stark vouched for you personally. Is he a liar?"

I could see Sir Wallace was about to break, just a little more pressing, then confession time. He looked around for any source of help. The prince and princess were stony faced. And Joffrey looked gleeful, petting his crossbow.

"The hangman or the headsman? How would you like to die?" Said Rhaegar.

I knew my friend wasn't really going to kill Sir Wallace. But Sir Wallace didn't. And the threat of execution was a good way to loosen tongues.

But instead of making Sir Wallace shit himself and confess all, Sir Wallace ran!

RHAEGAR TARGARYEN

No-one expected Sir Wallace to run, and no-one expected him to be so fast. Quick as a flash he slipped through the guards holding him and scampered away out the tent.

"Catch him, you lackwits! Move!" I heard Elia say. Gods, I envied her bluntness.

The guards ran out of the tent afterward. I decided to join the chase, Aegon by my side, Kings-guard not far behind.

It was chaos in the camp, my guards were shouting at anyone nearby, for them to stop Sir Wallace, but he was too fast and agile. He ducked and rolled and slide between hands and zigzagged through the camp.

He then stole my horse - my horse of all things - and galloped off out the camp towards the woods.

It took precious time, to get a cohesive force on horseback, and as we set off from the camp, I saw Sir Wallace disappear into the woods.

About twenty of us joined the chase - Sir Jamie stayed behind to guard my wife and daughter, and the rest joined us, along with Joffrey - the shit - and some royal guards.

I had ordered Aegon to stay behind, and drum up a second larger force to come join us and inform the Lords and Ladies on what was going on. I would deal with the Starks later.

The day was drawing to a close, and the woods were murky and dark. The foliage was thick, blocking out the sun, and the trunks were close together making it hard to move fast.

We spread out in a net, and then I was suddenly hit was a sense of de-javu. This situation was awfully familiar. I was chasing a mystery knight, with a weirwood shield, in a wood, at the end of the day.

Gods don't think about Lyanna now, I told myself. But it was hard.

Whoever had trained Sir Wallace to ride had done a very good job, he weaved in and out of the tree's, laughing as someone fell off their horse attempting to grab him.

That laugh. It was so familiar. DON'T THINK ABOUT LYANNA.

I heard a twang. And then a shriek. Joffrey had fired his three-bolt crossbow, and it had hit its mark. The royal charger collapsed as did its rider.

We jumped off our horses, and I saw Joffrey smirk at me, expecting praise. I hit him.

"I needed him alive; you fool."

Joffrey's nose broke with a crunch, and I heard him cry. I didn't care, I stalked towards the fallen rider afraid of what I'd see.

My horse was dead. One bolt was lodged in its head, the second in its neck. The third bolt must be in Sir Wallace.

Sir Wallace was on his back, a couple yards from the horse. A tiny ray of light filtered through the leaves, illuminating him.

The bolt was in his side, and a small pool of blood was forming below him. I heard him breathe struggling for air. He was winded.

"Your grace, don't go near him." Said Sir Arther. I shot him a glare and ignored him. I knelt and took off Sir Wallace's helmet.

Revealing ...

A beautiful young girl with purple eyes.

What have I done?!