Robert and Walder rode to where the knights and lords mustered for the opening of The Champion's Joust. The field was a riot of colors and sigils as over one hundred competitors gathered for the chance to win honor and glory. The previous two days were merely a warmup for the spectacle that was to follow over the next three. As was tradition, the day would begin with a grand procession where the assembled knights would parade for the honor of the young Lady Whent for whom the tourney was being held. This was also when knights would normally go and publicly ask their chosen lady for their favor. Robert had already received Lyanna's favor when he participated in the melee but had returned it the previous night while explaining the tradition. She scoffed a little at the excessive pageantry but agreed to play along while giving him a wry smile.
Robert made his way to where the Stormlanders were gathering but was intercepted by Brandon. His future good brother was encased in the finest plate northern smiths could produce. The steel was dark gray in color, matching the direwolf running across his ice white tabard, yet it was still polished to perfection and gleaming in the early morning sun. His helm was simple as well with none of the embellishments a southerner of similar station demand. In all, Robert had to admit that Brandon currently personified the simple strength and fortitude that House Stark was known for.
"Hail Lord Robert." Brandon said congenially.
"Good morning, Lord Brandon." Robert replied in a similar tone
"I feel it necessary to apologize to you." Brandon said with a smirk.
"Oh, I thought you've already done so." Robert replied with a matching grin, guessing where this was going.
"True, true, but I meant that I wish to apologize for having to knock you from the tourney so early. I hope your humiliation won't wound your relationship with my sister too deeply." Brandon said in a mockingly somber tone. Robert laughed.
"Save your apologies for when you are laying in the dirt and staring into the sky." Robert knew that Brandon's words held no malice. Though he would never count the eldest Stark amongst his closest friends, they had finally come to an understanding. It seemed that being willing to fight the prince and one of the greatest knights in the realm with only a hunting knife was finally enough to prove that he was, in fact, good enough for Lyanna. Now they spoke the language of boasts and good-natured mocking that was common amongst proud young men of their station. Brandon for his part simply gave a roguish smile before heading off towards where the few northern lords participating in the joust were mustering.
The various lords and knights of the Stormlands were eager to greet Robert as he approached, and he happily returned their salutes. He heard many of the men chatting about the mystery knight who had caused such a stir yesterday. Robert, of course, listened carefully to what his banners were saying while trying not to let on that he was overly interested. They all seemed to be keeping an eye out for the short ramshackle knight, since with three victories he had secured a place in the main competition. One voice in particular caught Robert's attention.
"Whenever that urchin playing at being a knight shows, I'll have the honor of unmasking him. I had a word with the Master of Games and made sure he would be my first opponent." It was the voice of Ser Richard Lonmouth.
In his past life, Richard had been just the kind of man that Robert had enjoyed spending time with; loud, boisterous, merry, and a lover of drink. Memories of the rebellion, however, soured his opinion of the man. Ser Lonmouth had been an ardent supporter of Rhaegar and had died at the Trident along with him. Memories of the battle outside of his fateful duel with Rhaegar were still blurry, but he was fairly certain that the man had fallen to Robert's hammer while trying to bar his path to the dragon.
"I hope I did not just hear one of my banners admitting to corruption and bribery." Robert said in a jovial tone before laughing. The laughter did not quite reach his piercing blue eyes, however.
"Of course not, my lord. I've known the Master of Games for years and I simply asked him a favor." Ser Lonmouth quickly clarified.
"I see, it is good to be well connected then." Robert replied happily. "Though, I don't think that the honor of unmasking the Knight of the Laughing Tree will be yours."
"You think I'm not skilled enough? I'm leagues better than those pissants he unhorsed yesterday. I've been training with Prince Rhaegar for years now." Ser Lonmouth replied confidently. Robert sighed.
"I mean that I don't think the knight will show." Robert clarified in a patient tone.
"So, he's a coward then? Doesn't want to face the king's wrath?" Ser Richard replied mockingly.
"I think, based on the fact that they challenged three specific knights and simply demanded that they train their squires better for the ransom meant that they had a point to prove." Robert replied slowly as if explaining to a child.
"You think they'd give up on the honor of competing in the champion's tourney?" Ser Lonmouth replied skeptically.
"Not everyone feels the need to win their honor at the tip of a lance. If that was the case the men of the North would be bringing home far more victories." Robert replied with a smirk.
"Then why do you compete, my lord?" Ser Richard replied while trying to hide his distaste for heathens of the North.
"Oh, that's simple," Robert replied with a chuckle. "I wish to give my lady Lyanna the crown she deserves."
"Well best of luck my lord, but I think it will be Princess Elia who is crowned at the end of the tourney. Prince Rhaegar has been in rare form recently. He's more motivated than I've seen in years." Ser Richard replied in a playful tone, but his smile faltered when he saw Robert's entire countenance change.
"We'll see." Robert ground out harshly before guiding his horse away from the now confused knight.
"Is everything alright my lord?" Walder asked quietly once they had arrived at the front of the Stormlands contingent. Robert took a moment to shake off the dark mood before responding.
"Yes, just some dark memories." He said, giving his squire a reassuring smile.
Not long after, the horn signaling the start of the parade. The gathered knights rode forward to honor the young lady Whent and to salute the king. As they approached the stands, men would ride out to beseech their ladies for their favors before returning to the procession. Robert was no exception as he directed his horse towards the Northern contingent where he saw Lyanna standing tall and proud at the front of the group waiting for him to approach. In his eyes her beauty eclipsed all the ladies of the realm. If Robert was more of a poet, he might even be able to do her justice. Her attire was nowhere as showy and elaborate as what was common in the south, but it suited her in a way that only accentuated her noble and strong bearing. She was a winter rose growing boldly amidst a harsh clime. She smirked as he approached.
"My lady, might I have the honor of your favor so that I might win glory in your name?" He called out loudly.
"Oh, my honorable and gallant shining knight, it would be my greatest honor to bestow upon you the most honorific honor I can possibly give." She replied in an overly dramatic approximation of a stereotypical southern lady as she pulled out the piece of gray fabric with an exaggerated flourish. "Just don't fall off your horse and get it dirty." She continued with a sly smile after switching into her normal northern brogue, eliciting laughter from the surrounding northern lords. Robert joined in their laughter. He was pretty sure some of the nearby southerners scowled at the mockery, but he couldn't care less. This was the proud and mischievous lady he was going to wed.
"I wouldn't dare." Robert said confidently before using his lance to retrieve the favor. He bowed to her and returned to the parade.
Once all of the pomp and circumstance had finally played out, the jousts were officially opened. No two tourneys were the same when it came to the jousts. For this grand event, the Master of Games declared that the victor in a match would be the first to break five lances or to unseat their opponent. Ties would be resolved on the ground with the combatant's weapons of choice, something that suited Robert just fine.
Robert quickly moved to the staging area where he would await his match with Brandon. He watched as two knights he didn't recognize face each other from across the tiltyard. One was garbed in yellow with three hedgehogs on his chest and the other in blue-green sporting some sort of strange fish atop his greathelm. It took eight passes before the hedgehog knight was able to claim victory and he heard the Master of Games announce his match.
As he guided his horse to the starting point, he felt that familiar rush that preceded any good fight. Heart pounding in his chest, he donned his helm. His vision narrowed but grew ever sharper focusing on the gray wolf at the other end of the tilt. The sounds of the crowd were drowned out and yet it was as if the stamping of his steed, the rattling of his reins, and the beating of his heart came into even clearer focus. He reached out and patted his steed on the neck affectionately.
"Alright Storm, this is what we've been training for, I know you'll do us proud." He quietly spoke into his horse's ear, and his companion shook his head and stomped at the ground as if to confirm his readiness.
This steed had been with him for well over a year now. He had never thought much of the horses he had ridden in either of his lives, usually never even bothering to name them. Storm was not a particularly original name for a Baratheon steed, but Robert had never been overly creative. It had been Lyanna's advice about forming a close relationship with one's steed that had changed how he viewed the powerful beast. The reliable charger had taken him from the Vale to Winterfell, dashed through the Wolfswood chasing after the woman he intended to marry, rode across the Stormlands to meet his banners, and spent hours with him practicing in the tiltyard. He trusted the warhorse beneath him, and it was time for them to go out and prove that their training was not a waste.
He held out his hand without ever taking his eyes off his opponent and soon found the familiar weight of a tourney lance in hand. Walder was truly an efficient squire. He quickly saluted the elder Stark and saw the gesture returned. All that was left was to wait for the horn to blow and for the flags to drop. He took a deep breath and let it out just as the signal was given. Robert spurred his steed on, and the great black beast shot forward more than happy to be able to let loose.
Seconds stretched on for eternity as the two warriors closed. Robert saw Brandon lowering his lance and began to follow suit. In the last few moments before they made contact, Robert noticed that Brandon had dropped his lance further down than expected and recognized the trap for what it was. Lyanna had used a similar trick against her opponents the previous day. Brandon was trying to bait Robert into overcommitting by making it look as if his own strike was going astray only to raise it just enough to land a solid blow in the last second. It took quite a bit of skill and concentration to pull off successfully and demonstrated just how talented of a rider Brandon was.
Robert shifted his weight in the saddle to ensure the lance could only glance off his breastplate, but this also threw off his own aim, and as the men made contact neither were able to break a lance. As he turned his mount to return to the starting point, he heard Brandon call out to him.
"Looks like you actually learned something since you left Winterfell." His voice was muffled by the helm he wore, but Robert could still hear that it was more respectful than mocking.
"I had the proper motivation." Robert replied as he passed by giving the customary solute.
Soon after, they were at their respective starting points, waiting once again for the signal to start. A few heartbeats passed and the flags dropped. Robert saw that this time Brandon had eschewed shrewd strategy and was coming at him dead on. There was little doubt that Brandon would break his lance if not unseat Robert altogether. Rather than adjust to defend from the strike, he followed suit and committed to his own strike. His whole focus was on bracing himself against the incoming blow while keeping his lance tip trained on the upper left corner of Brandon's shield. Everything else faded away and Robert felt as if he was flying over the ground towards the inevitable collision. There was an infinitesimally short moment of silence and peace before contact. Then, all at once Robert's senses were overwhelmed. There was the deafening crack of shattering wood, the ear splitting peel of his steel plates being struck, the staccato pings of hardwood splinters ricocheting off his greathelm. Robert felt himself falling backwards and was unsure if he would be able to right himself. Almost as if his steed knew he needed help, Storm kicked his hind legs out giving Robert just enough leverage to pull himself up fully into the saddle.
Even though the whole affair lasted mere seconds it felt as if a lifetime had passed for Robert as he took stock of what had just occurred. His horse had come to a stop at the end of the lane, and he looked at what was left a shattered lance in his hand. Part of him was surprised then he let himself smile as he was one step closer to victory. It was then that the roar of the crowd finally reached him. He was confused at first because the audience would hardly be in such an uproar over broken lances. He guided his steed back around and was shocked to see the heir of Winterfell slowly picking himself up off the ground. Robert stared in shock for a few moments before finally pulling off his helm and riding over to his future good brother. Fortunately, Walder was quick to take his horse's reins and Robert was able to dismount and help Brandon up.
"Looks like I truly underestimated you." Brandon said with a cough and a wince. "I didn't expect you to lean into my strike like that."
"It nearly cost me the match. I barely managed to stay in the saddle." Robert replied congenially.
"Aye, but then we would have been tied and I would have had to face you on foot. That didn't end well for me last time." Brandon laughed before offering Robert his hand. Robert took it and they shook as brothers in arms with the crowd once again cheering at the camaraderie displayed. They quickly cleared the lane to allow the next set of competitors to have their go and moved to the staging area. It wasn't long before they were joined by the rest of the Starks as well as Ser and Lady Rogers.
"I told you he wouldn't be a pushover, Brandon." Lyanna teased victoriously.
"Yes, yes, I know. I should listen to you on all things riding related." Brandon replied, annoyance clear in his voice.
"Come now nephew, niece, there's no need for that." Landy Branda intervened in a motherly tone.
"My Lords, you both rode brilliantly. Even though it was over quickly, your match was quite a start to the day's matches. Not many knights are willing to go all in like that at the start of a tourney." Ser Rogers spoke up
"Would you believe that it was because I didn't know what else to do?" Robert replied with a smirk.
"Aye, I could believe that." Brandon spoke up a hint of vindication in his voice. "So, it was beginner's luck then."
"I won't deny it, but if I were a lesser man, you might have won." Robert replied boastfully. They laughed.
"Right, well if you are done with your boasting," Ned chimed in. "It seems as if your next match won't be until much later in the afternoon. Would you like to join us until then?"
"Of course, I'll join you!" Robert said enthusiastically before turning and looking for his squire. "Walder, help me get my plate off."
"Yes, my lord." Walder replied happily and quickly got to work.
"Does anyone know who I will be facing next?" Robert asked.
"Either one of Lord Whent's sons, Ser Danwell I think, or Ser Andrew Banefort." Eddard said helpfully. "You'll know for sure by the midday meal."
"If I had to guess, it'll be Ser Banefort." Lyanna spoke up excitedly. "I watched him ride yesterday. He's very accurate with his lance."
From there the conversation turned into a general discussion on the various competitors. Ser Rogers provided quite a bit of insight into the various knights and lords Robert might face. Even if the older knight had chosen not to compete himself, he was a veritable font of knowledge when it came to the tourney scene. Once Robert had doffed his plate they proceeded to return to the stands. While sitting with the Starks, he took to chance to visit with a number of their banners as well. True to his nature, he found it easy to ingratiate himself amongst the normally insular northerners. He particularly enjoyed spending time with the Mormonts.
Lady Maege and her daughters were cut from the same cloth as Lyanna. Even at just two and ten, Lady Dacey was a head taller than most others her age. She and Lyanna had become fast friends during their time at the tourney. Robert found it difficult not to think about the fate of the young Lord of Bear Island. He knew that Jorah would eventually be banished for selling some poachers to Tyroshi slavers, and that he would end up spying on the Targaryen kids in exchange for a pardon. Right now, however, the young man was happily enjoying the tourney with his new wife, Arra Glover. Robert wondered how he could fall so far in the coming years, wishing that he had asked old Ned about it. Maybe it involved that Hightower lass he picked up after the Greyjoy rebellion. Regardless, it wasn't something he could prevent for now so he just enjoyed the time for what it was.
It was also interesting to watch Lady Branda reconnect with the various Northern ladies she had known growing up. She seemed to be at the center of a web of connections spun when she traveled across the North at her father's side. Lady Branda had taken Lyanna in tow, teaching her how to properly socialize with the various groups of Northern ladies. Robert had heard her explain that the great game of gossip was something that women of the north shared with their southern counterparts. Though she also noted that gossip in the southern kingdoms was far more cloaked in euphemism and flowery words than the straightforward and comparably blunt approach northern ladies took. Lyanna seemed worried at that bit of information, but Branda reassured her that she would be there with her in Storm's End to help her adjust.
As they were taking their midday meal, word was delivered that Ser Banefort had indeed defeated the first of Lord Whent's sons. Robert smiled and finished his meal quickly so that he could be ready for his next match. As Walder finished fastening the last few plates into place, Lyanna approached Robert.
"Ser Banefort is short in stature and likes to ride fast and close to the tilt, he is exceptionally accurate while doing so. I think you should go with a longer lance this time." Lyanna advised confidently.
"I can see the advantage, but I haven't really practiced much with the longer lances." Robert replied thoughtfully. Lyanna grinned, seemingly happy that Robert had not dismissed her outright.
"Robert, you are one of the strongest men alive, I don't think the extra weight will be too much for you to compensate for." She replied teasingly, patting him on the arm. "Besides, you won't need to be particularly accurate, any half decent hit will send the man from the saddle."
"You know for this being your first tourney you are awfully insightful." Robert said with a bit of admiration.
"We may not partake in the pageantry of tourneys, but the men of the north still learn the joust. For us it is not a game of honor and glory, but practice for war." Lyanna replied, pride for her homeland evident in her voice.
Robert smiled, gently took her hand in his, and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. He smiled at the fierce blush that lit up her face.
"Thank you, I will do as you say and I look forward to dedicating this victory to you." He said in a soft low voice, savoring just how flustered Lyanna had become. She rallied quickly, however.
"I did just say we don't enjoy the pageantry, right?" She said in an annoyed tone, but Robert could see that she was fighting a smirk. Robert simply laughed and bid her farewell as he mounted up.
He called for Walder to bring him the longest lance they had so that he could test its weight. True to what Lyanna had said, the extra foot in length only added a few pounds to the overall heft, something that Robert hardly noticed when he was holding it upright, but when he practiced bringing it down, he got a quick practical lesson in leverage. He practiced a few more times raising and lowering the long lance before a messenger finally arrived to summon him to the tiltyard.
As Robert guided Storm into position and peered down the lane at his challenger. The knight of House Banefort wore a black hood over his helm making him look like his house sigil come to life. True to what Lyanna had said, the man was shorter than average for a man of the West, and he was riding a smaller horse that looked to be bred for speed rather than power. Robert knew he would not have much time before the man was upon him.
When the horn sounded and the flags dropped, Ser Banefort sped towards him even more quickly than Robert expected. The man was riding so close to the rail that one could almost hear the metal of his greaves scraping on the wood. They both lowered their lances, but Robert immediately realized he had made a mistake. Even with his impromptu preparations he still struggled to control the point. When they met, Robert's lance barely glanced off his opponents shield before a moment later he felt the impact of a lance upon his own shield and grimaced as he heard the snapping of wood and the sound of splinters peppering his armor. It was hardly as powerful as Brandon's last strike, but it still numbed his arm for a bit. They reset and charged each other once again with similar results.
Robert was growing frustrated and was now behind two lances to none. He knew that to win he would have to lower his lance much earlier in order to have time to bring it under control. It would give his opponent more time to react, but if he didn't try something he would lose due to broken lances alone. Having returned to the starting line, he waited once more for the flags to drop. When they did, the Westerman sped towards him just as before. Robert leaned forward into his saddle and urged Storm to gallop forward with all he had. Robert lowered his lance early giving himself time to steady the tip for a solid strike. His opponent saw this and managed to adjust to better take the strike, but the power Robert was bringing to bear would still be considerable. None would call it a particularly good strike, but as Lyanna had predicted the sheer weight of the impact was far too much for the smaller knight to handle. Ser Banefort had been unhorsed and Robert claimed victory taking him one step closer to his ultimate goal.
A/N Day 1 of the jousts are done, for Robert at least. Next chapter will be Day 2 of the main event as well as Robert's third and fourth jousts. I hope I did a good job describing the action and the competitors. As always thank you for the comments and feedback.