Robert once again spent the evening reveling with his bannermen. It was a celebration for not only his own accomplishments, but those of the half dozen or so Stormlanders who had advanced to the second day of the Champion's Joust. He had also invited the Starks and they had joined him and his brother at the head table, honoring the upcoming union of their two houses. With Lyanna sitting at his side, he couldn't have been happier. His worries all faded into the background as he sat and enjoyed this time with those he loved.
Stannis had invited Lady Delena to the gathering and after the opening of the feast he began introducing her to the various lords and ladies present. Lyanna had rather insightfully mentioned that the two seemed to complement each other very well. Between Stannis' seriousness and Delena's playfulness, they seemed to ground each other in a way that would hopefully lead to a happy union. Robert wouldn't mind putting up with the rest of the ambitious foxes if it meant his brother had a good wife. Eventually the two made their way back to the head table and approached Robert and Lyanna. Delena dropped into a respectful curtsey and Stannis addressed them.
"Brother, Lady Lyanna," he said respectfully.
"No need for the formality, Stannis, we're to be family soon." Lyanna interjected with a smile.
"As you wish Lyanna. Robert, Lady Delena would like to visit Storm's End after the tourney." He stated in his normal matter of fact tone. If he had not gotten to know his brother more over the past few moons, Robert would have missed the subtle nervousness in his voice and posture.
"Oh?" Robert asked happily.
"Yes, My Lord Baratheon." Delena replied in a respectful but cheerful tone. "Stannis has told me much about your home, and I would very much like to see it myself."
"Very well," Robert happily replied. "I'll speak to Lord Florent tomorrow to get things sorted out."
"Thank you," she said with a pretty smile before turning to Lyanna. "Lady Lyanna, it seems as if you caused quite a stir today."
"Really?" Lyanna's voice betrayed some wariness, and she leveled a skeptical glance at Delena.
"Oh yes, several of the ladies I spoke with were quite scandalized by the mockery you made of the pageant." Delena's smile turned into a conspiratorial smirk. "I for one found it refreshing. Sometimes I think that we make too much of our traditions here. If it is not an imposition, I would like to spend time with you during the tourney. It might be presumptive of me since nothing is official, but I hope to have good relations with my future good sister." She said, giving Stannis' arm a gentle squeeze. Lyanna finally returned her smile.
"I'd love to Lady Delena." Lyanna replied, seemingly happy for the opportunity to make more southern friends.
"Seems like you caught a stag and aren't letting it go my lady. I see no reason why we shouldn't make it official." Robert exclaimed, letting out an amused chuckle. "Since things are going so swimmingly between you two, I'll talk to your uncle about finalizing the betrothal as well."
Delena truly beamed at his declaration. Though if Robert wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw quite a bit of relief in her expression. He also saw Stannis gently put his hand over hers. Robert recognized that something was going on that they weren't sharing with him, but this was definitely not the place to address it. Besides, the musicians had just struck up one of his favorite songs.
"Lyanna, care to dance." He asked in a warm tone.
"I'd love to." She replied with a beautiful smile. They danced the night away and Robert was happy.
Robert awoke abruptly very early the next morning, the memories of the fell dreams that drove him into the waking world quickly fading. It seemed as if he was the only one awake at the moment, and seeing as he would not be returning to sleep himself, he decided to take a walk. Without the company of his friends and loved ones to distract him however, he had trouble ignoring the subtle sense of unease he had been feeling since he had entered the castle. As he wandered the massive castle grounds, it dawned on him that since arriving, he had yet to visit the local sept to pray. It was easy to make the excuse that he had been too busy, but it felt hollow when he considered what he had been spending his time on. The sept wasn't far, and Robert realized he had no excuses at the moment.
The sept of Harrenhal was one of the few places in the mostly run-down castle that had been constructed after Aegon's conquest and had fortunately been properly staffed and maintained ever since. To Robert it seemed like a bastion of peace in a place that felt wrong, or if one was to be dramatic, cursed. As he entered, he was greeted by the local septon. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, if Robert judged correctly, and wore the traditional white robes and belt or seven strands that was common to the priests of the faith. Though Robert did notice that the crystal necklace normally worn by septons was hidden beneath his robes.
"Good morning how may…" the man's sentence trailed off as he laid his eyes on Robert. The man simply stared; slack jawed for a few moments.
"Are you alright?" Robert asked, breaking the awkward silence. Robert's voice seemed to help the man shake off whatever had caused him to lose his words.
"Apologies my Lord Baratheon, I was not expecting such an esteemed guest this blessed morning." The Septon beamed.
"Think nothing of it. It has been too long since I have offered proper prayers and I just came to fix that." He said dismissively, though the man's enthusiastic response did put Robert off.
"Of course, my lord. It seems as if tales of your piety are well founded." The Septon replied happily. Robert stopped and glared at the man for a moment, causing the Septon's smile to falter a little.
"Tales of my piety?" Robert asked carefully.
"Ah, yes, word has spread far and wide of your travels along the king's road, and how you made a point of visiting as many septs as you could." The man explained.
"Really?" Robert replied skeptically. "It was hardly the reason for my trip. Besides, several of the septons didn't exactly appreciate my… unusual approach to prayer."
"There were those who spoke of your impropriety when approaching The Seven. But I can see now that they must be mistaken." He said earnestly, a little awe in his voice. Robert recalled what Howland had said in the godswood and decided to push the man a little.
"Oh, I just walked in the door, and you can just tell how pious I am?" Robert said with a teasing tone.
"Well, few lords have come to pray during the festivities." The man countered, though it seemed as if the man was not very confident in his own explanation.
"Well, as you said, there are those who find my prayers to The Seven to be improper, and yet you already have the measure of me." Robert smiled but fixed the man with a gaze that dared the septon to give such simple platitudes again.
"Again, apologies my lord, for my impertinence and the vagueness of my answer, but as soon as I saw you enter the sept, I knew in my heart that you are favored by the gods." The man seemed nervous to admit this, but Robert could also sense the man's excitement and expectation. Robert's smile faded and he let out a deep sigh, not exactly enjoying the fact that Howland spoke true regarding his connection to the divine.
"Have I offended you, my lord?" The man asked anxiously.
"No, you have simply proven something that I had hoped was not true." Robert said with some exasperation. Seeing the frown on the septon's face he felt the need to lighten the mood and smiled. "You have also proven that you are a true follower of The Seven as well. May I have your name?"
"Thank you, my lord, I am Septon Clement." The man smiled brightly at Robert's compliment.
"Well, Clement, you have been doing a fine job here. Your sept is an island of peace in this dreadful place." Robert said honestly. He hadn't really noticed it since he had been so distracted with everything going on, but there had always been a slight feeling of foreboding or unrest that permeated the castle. When he had noticed it, he had rationalized it as his own worries about what had happened here in his past life. Now he wasn't so sure.
"You feel it too then." Clement said gravely. "I shouldn't be surprised that someone blessed as you are, would notice the unnatural nature of this place. For many moons I have sought to rid the castle of this darkness, but it seems as if the gods are angry with this place."
Robert paused as he picked up on the peculiar way the Septon had described Harrenhal.
"You say the gods are angry with this place, not The Seven?" Robert inquired cautiously. The man seemed slightly panicked and reached for where his pendant was hidden by his robes.
"Calm down, I don't mean any harm. I assume that you follow Septon Cedric's teachings?" Robert said, holding his hands up placatingly. Clement's demeanor changed rapidly as worry was replaced by eager curiosity.
"You have heard his teachings, my lord?" His eyes practically shined with hope.
"Yes and no, the last time I spoke to Cedric was at the Gates of the Moon, just before my trip. He helped answer many questions I had about the faith. Of course, this was before he started preaching in the Riverlands. But I have heard about what he's been up to recently from Lord Tully's eldest daughter." Robert explained. Septon Clement took a moment and pulled out the weirwood star he had been hiding.
"I had traveled to Riverrun to witness the debate. Septon Benedict is the representative of the High Septon in the Riverlands and is a man of no small reputation and influence. I was moved by the truth of Cedric's words and found Benedict's reasoning lacking." The man paused and seemed to be debating whether to continue sharing. Eventually he made up his mind and spoke in a much softer tone.
"When I returned, I began visiting the godswood more often, and though it may seem blasphemous I think I have found myself more in tune with the will of the gods old and new. I can feel the old god's anger here and I can understand it. This is a place where much evil has been done in the sight of the gods. Harren's tyranny, Aegon's Conquest, and the Dance of Dragons, all terrible events that have left their mark on this place and this land. I wish I knew how to appease their anger and cleanse this place, but I don't know where to start." The septon's voice was forlorn as he ruminated on his failures. Robert wasn't sure how to respond and the two stood in silence for a few moments until the Septon seemed to pull himself out of his dark mood.
"I apologize my lord; I am keeping you from your prayers with my prattle." He said in a deferential tone.
"Think nothing of it. Have you thought about reaching out to those in the North? If there is anyone who can help, you would find them north of the Neck." Robert said helpfully as he moved to retrieve candles for his prayers.
"Perhaps I will write to my brothers in White Harbor." The Septon said with a smile. "The Crone has truly blessed you with her wisdom, Lord Baratheon. May The Warrior bless your efforts in the tourney today." The Septon bowed low and went about his business leaving Robert to his own devices. Robert quietly lifted his own prayers to The Seven before returning to his tent to prepare for his upcoming matches.
When Robert returned to his tent, he would discover that today would not be an easy day. His first opponent would be none other than Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. Robert was informed of another change made by his entry on the lists as it seemed that the prince's first opponent had changed to Jon Connington. Robert wondered if the Lord of Griffin's Roost would simply let Rhaegar win; it was well known how much the man admired the prince.
Regardless of what would happen with the prince, Robert knew that Oswell was riding for the honor of his niece and as an experienced knight he would not be an easy opponent. If he managed to come out of that match victorious then he would be facing either a knight from House Fossoway or Oberyn Martell. Between the two, he would put his dragons on the Red Viper over a red apple. Robert steeled his resolve. No matter who he faced, they were all simply obstacles in the way of him achieving his goal for this historic tourney.
"It looks as if the prince will have the honor of the first tilt today." Walder said in a cheerfully conversational tone as he continued securing Robert's armor. Robert simply grunted at the mention of prince Rhaegar. Walder continued unaware or uncaring of his Lord's mood.
"You are to compete in the third match of the day. After you beat Ser Whent, your next match will most likely be several hours after midday." The former stable boy said with utmost confidence. Robert couldn't help but grin at his squire's high opinion of him.
"My Lord, Lord Eddard and Lady Lyanna have come to call on you." Robert's steward announces.
"Well, show them in already." Robert replied happily. Shortly after, the Starks were escorted in.
"Ned, Lyanna! It's good to see you both this morning. I'd expect you to be in the stands already." Robert exclaimed as he greeted his favorite wolves.
"I'm not particularly interested in the first few combatants this morning" Lyanna said dismissively, but something in her demeanor betrayed a hidden worry.
"We thought it best to minimize the amount of time Lyanna was exposed to the prince." Ned confessed with a small grimace. Robert nodded and frowned at the thought of the prince even glancing at Lyanna. He shook the thoughts though not wanting to dwell on it at the moment.
"Right, well Lyanna, got any good advice for me this time?" Robert asked with a smile eager to change the subject.
"Don't fall off your horse?" Lyanna replied with a guilty tone. Robert just raised his eyebrow in response.
"I'm sorry Robert, but I didn't catch his first joust yesterday, so I don't have much to offer. this time" She replied apologetically.
"Think nothing of it then." Robert said with a dismissive wave and smiled. "I'll just have to focus on not falling off my horse then."
Lyanna returned the smile and they began discussing the various little ways Robert could improve his form, and the conversation wandered from there. Robert was happy. Even as they talked, they could hear the sounds of the tourney in the background. From the cheers of the crowd, they could tell the prince had most likely won his first victory. They continued talking for just a bit longer before a messenger finally arrived to call Robert to the ready area.
"Well, I'd best be off." Robert said not wanting the time with his betrothed to end.
"Yes, you best. Ned and I should make our way to our seats. I'm looking forward to seeing you defeat a knight of the kingsguard." Lyanna replied with a smile.
"Now I can't lose. I'd hate to disappoint you so." Robert replied with a laugh. He lingered for just a few moments more before giving a final farewell and turning to mount his steed and make his way to the tiltyard.
Robert arrived just in time to see the previous match come to a less than spectacular conclusion. He didn't recognize either of the competitors and the match had apparently been decided by broken lances alone. It took a few more moments for the field to be cleared and for the herald to announce the next competitors. Robert took his position across from Ser Whent. The veteran warrior was resplendent in his white Kingsguard armor, though the bat wings sweeping back from his helm paid tribute to his house. Robert felt his nerves begin to rise. While neither of his previous opponents had been weak, facing down such an experienced knight was far more daunting than Robert initially imagined. He did his best to tamp down his growing anxiety and focus on defeating the man in front of him.
The signal was given, and the two warriors charged at each other. Robert knew that he had a few extra inches of reach on the older knight and figured he could take his time to line up his strike. He lowered his lance as he had practiced countless times taking aim at Ser Whent's center of mass, but found it being skillfully deflected by his opponent's own lance just before it made impact. Robert saw his lance glance harmlessly off the top of the Kingsguard's shield. At the same time, Whent's lance struck Robert's right shoulder right at the edge of the pauldron, shattering on impact. Robert let out a loud grunt as pain shot down his arm. His shoulder was throbbing with every heartbeat, and moving it was now a painful ordeal. He managed to stay in the saddle, but this match was not starting out well for him.
As he trotted back to the starting position, he tried to work out the pain in his arm but was simply rewarded with more pain. This felt much worse than when that damned Lannister had struck him during the melee. A wise man would probably withdraw at this point to avoid further injury, but Robert was far too stubborn to back down now. Gritting his teeth, he took his position and awaited the signal once more.
When the flag dropped, he once more urged his steed forward. Determined to even the score, Robert braced himself and focused on putting his lance into Ser Whent's lower breastplate. It would be unlikely to unseat the man, but it would most likely break a lance and be difficult to parry. It would have been a solid plan, but as he lowered his lance, pain shot through his arm and he was unable to bring it to bear properly. Fortunately, he was able to brace himself behind his shield and weathered the incoming strike without further injury. As he trotted back to the starting position, frustration began to grow along with the pain as he found himself behind by two broken lances.
Robert gritted his teeth as the signal was once again given and he raced across the field. He was still struggling to control his lance and the pass ended much like the previous one. Robert knew that at this point it would be very unlikely for him to catch up and win by lances so he focused his will on unseating the Kingsguard. As he once again rode down the tilt, he fought against the shooting pains in his arm in order to keep the tip of his lance on target and ended up overcompensating sending his strike high. Robert roared in a mix of pain and frustration thinking he had missed yet another strike. Though apparently luck was on his side.
The tip of Robert's lance narrowly missed the top of Ser Whent's shield, slid across his gorget, and found purchase in the small gap between the pauldron and breastplate. The Kingsguard was violently twisted by the awkward placement of the lance and his own strike veered off course. Robert felt the weight transferred down the lance into his throbbing arm and fought to hold on tight, knowing that this was his only chance to unseat his foe. The lance eventually snapped from the forces involved, but not before Ser Whent had already been knocked from his saddle. It seemed as if fortune had smiled on Robert, and he had been able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
As Robert rode back to his tent and his blood began to cool, the pain in his shoulder resurfaced with vengeance. Robert was no stranger to injury and was pretty confident that it had in fact been dislocated. This of course was both good and bad news. The good news was that if it was the only injury he sustained, it would be a relatively easy fix and he should be able to continue in the tourney. The bad news was that the process of fixing such an injury was not exactly something he was looking forward to.
After making sure the local maester had been summoned, Walder did his best to remove Robert's armor without causing excessive pain, something that was easier said than done. Once the arming doublet was removed Robert looked over and saw that his arm was a riot of colors. Black, blue, yellow, and even a small bit of green bruising both old and new told the story of just how much punishment his arm had taken over the past few days. Eventually, the same maester that treated Walder was shown in and began inspecting his arm as gently as he could.
"So, how bad is it?" Robert asked the healer.
"Not as bad as it could have been, my lord. It seems as if it was only a partial dislocation. I surmise that the proper fitting of your armor prevented it from being worse." The maester replied warmly. "Though resetting the joint is going to be rather unpleasant, apologies in advance, my lord."
"Right, get it over with then." Robert had never actually experienced this himself but had seen the procedure done enough to know what came next. He did his best to relax.
"Of course, my Lord. On the count of five. One, two, three…"
Robert yelled in pain as the maester suddenly and violently shoved his shoulder back into its popper place. Robert wanted to be mad about the whole five count thing, but he had heard that it was a way to prevent the injured from tensing up and preventing the procedure from working properly. Either way, after a few moments, the shooting and intense pain he had been feeling reduced to a dull throb. Robert groaned in relief as the maester applied a pungent smelling paste to his arm and wrapped it in linen bandages.
"Fortunately, the muscle around the shoulder was not torn, so the injury should heal well. The poultice should help reduce swelling. It is my recommendation that you withdraw from the tourney in order to allow your shoulder time to heal properly." The maester explained in a tone that indicated that he already knew that Robert would not take his advice. Robert couldn't help but chuckle a bit.
"Thank you for your advice maester, but I have a lady to crown and will not be backing out now." He said with a wince as he tested his arm.
"Of course, my lord, then at least make sure it stays wrapped tightly. I will leave some poultice with your steward so that your bandages can be replaced when needed. Do take care of yourself my lord." The maester replied in a resigned tone as he began packing up the rest of his supplies. With a slight bow, the healer took his leave. Robert slumped into the chair he was sitting in and did his best not to aggravate his throbbing shoulder. He closed his eyes and did his best to relax as he listened to the faded sounds of the ongoing tourney. Part of him wanted to go out and enjoy the festivities, but he knew that he would need to spend as much time recuperating before his next match. Robert was pleasantly surprised when Walder brought him a goblet of wine to help take the edge off. The boy was truly a godsend.
Robert wasn't sure how long he had just been sitting there as it seemed he had dozed off, not realizing just how tired he was. He awoke to his squire gently tapping him on his good shoulder.
"The steward is calling on you, my lord." Walder explained as Robert regained his wits from his unintended nap.
"What? Oh, sure." Robert muttered as he blinked the remaining weariness from his eyes. Walder opened the tent flap for the Steward and the older man entered.
"Good afternoon, my Lord. Lord and Lady Stark have come to call on you." The Steward said in the even and professional tone that Robert had come to expect from the man. The news he brought did the job of clearing away any remaining fatigue he had, replacing it with eager excitement.
"Of Course! Send them in." Robert exclaimed excitedly, jumping to his feet. Though he winced a bit when his sudden movement disturbed his shoulder, he noted that it was far less sharp than before. A moment later, his friend and betrothed entered the tent.
"Robert, I made sure to stay and watch your next op…" Lyanna's excited announcement died on her lips when she saw the extensive bruising and wrap around Robert's shoulder. She immediately turned to her brother and shoved him angrily
"You said he was fine!" She yelled at Ned before moving to Robert's side.
"I am fine."
"He is fine."
The two foster brothers said in almost unison, causing Robert to chuckle a little and Ned to give a small grin.
"It doesn't look fine. Are you going to have to withdraw from the tourney?" Lyanna's voice and expression was a mix of concern and disappointment.
"Truly it looks much worse than it is. Much of the bruising is from the Melee." He said taking the time to show off his arm's mobility without grimacing too much. In truth, he recognized that he probably should wait another day or two before trying anything too taxing, and it would be a moon or more before he would be back to normal, but time and tourneys wait for no man.
"Are you sure? I know that you are doing this mostly for me. I don't want to be the reason you are more seriously injured." She said, placing her hand gently on his.
"Truly, I'll be fine." Robert repeated, in a reassuring tone. Lyanna still wore a frown.
"I wish I had watched Ser Whent before, maybe I could have helped you better." She said in a frustrated tone.
"I'm sure it would have helped, but no use worrying about it now. If I'm not mistaken, I think I heard you mention something about staying and watching my next opponent?" Robert said, hoping to lift her spirits. Her frown turned into a determined grin.
"Yes, you'll be facing Oberyn Martell in the very last tilt of the day." She said enthusiastically. Robert did not share her enthusiasm.
"Fuck." Robert let out with a sigh.
"Robert, try not to swear in front of my sister." Eddard warned.
"Apologies, Lyanna, I know I said I would be fine, but I am not exactly excited to face the Red Viper at anything less than my finest." Robert replied with a scowl.
"Actually, I think it might work to your advantage."
"Oh?" Robert said, raising his eyebrow.
"I asked Delena and she said that the men he's faced off against have not been particularly skilled, and it looked like he was barely putting in the effort against Ser Fossoway. No offense, but since your victories have seemed to be more luck than skill, and with an apparent injury, I think Prince Oberyn will probably underestimate you too." Lyanna explained with a smile.
"I see," Robert sighed, trying not to take offense at the mention that his performance, while exciting, hadn't been particularly skillful. "So, what do you think I should do?"
"Well, he rides quite fast and has been using a longer lance so that he hasn't needed to think too much about defense. I think it would be best if you went with a shorter lance and focused on defending against his initial strike, that should leave him wide open." Lyanna explained insightfully.
"Alright then, that's what we'll do." Robert replied confidently.
"But for now, you're going to take it easy and rest up before your next match." Ned interjected, fulfilling his role as the voice of reason. Robert knew he was right; he was fortunate that his next joust was to be the last of the day since it gave him nearly three hours to rest. The Starks stayed and chatted for a while until Lyanna mentioned that Delena was expecting her. They said their farewells and Robert did his best to make sure his shoulder didn't grow too stiff. Eventually it was time for him to don his armor once more and prepare to face the Red Viper.
Robert did his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulder as he rode once more to the staging area. He asked Walder for a shorter lance and tested the strength in his arm. Fortunately, the reduced weight made it just bearable for him to control. It hurt quite a lot, but pain was something that he had plenty of experience fighting through. He heard his name announced and made his way to the tourney grounds.
As he took his place, he stared down at the far end of the tilt and took in the sight of the Red Viper. The Prince of Dorne was an impressive sight. Clad in the finest plate and bearing the sun and spear of his house proudly upon his shield, Oberyn Martell sat confidently atop his sand steed stallion. Robert offered a salute, trying his best to ignore his complaining joint, and the prince returned it in kind.
A few moments later the signal to charge was given, and Storm exploded into a gallop. Robert took the few seconds he had to observe the prince. True to what Lyanna had said, Oberyn rode without a care to his own defense, appearing to be supremely confident in his ability to unseat Robert without fear of reprisal. Robert braced himself for impact and brought his own lance to bear. The two knights met with two thunderous clashes.
It took a few moments for Robert to shake off the impact of Oberyn's lance against his shield, but he remained firmly in the saddle, broken lance in hand. Robert felt a sense of triumph building in his chest until he heard the gasps of the crowd and a cry of pain from behind him. He turned to see Prince Oberyn slowly rising from the ground nursing a clearly broken arm.
A/N Another chapter down, and we are getting closer to the end of the tourney. I wonder what effects Oberyn's injury might have on the world? Thank for all the comments, they really help keep me motivated to move things forward.