In the end, the two men that made it to the finals were Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Jorah Mormont, each defeating other famed knights and high lords. Ser Jorah had defeated Ser Lyle Crakehall and Ser Boros Blount easily, knocking them off of their horses in a single strike. Defeating such famous knights made him a favorite of the smallfolk, yet many still cheered for the Kingslayer. Knighted by the Sword of the Morning himself and known as one of the realm's finest swords, Ser Jaime's popularity in the heart of the Westerlands was only opposed by the legendary knights of old and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Weiss was personally cheering for her kin, despite what thoughts she had about his father. She would have cheered for Cousin Daven, but he had been unhorsed by Ser Boros, breaking about five lances in an impressive display for his first tourney.

The next day, Weiss wore a blue dress with silver lions sewn onto the sleeves and bodice. The joust finals would have the largest audience, with many attending just to catch a glimpse of the legendary Kingslayer. Whoever won would then be able to crown their 'Queen of Love and Beauty'. It was a political statement, used by the victor to declare his love for a lady, or intent to court if they were both single. Prince Rhaegar had named Lyanna Stark his 'Queen of Love and Beauty' over his wife, Elia Martell, and the realm bled for it. Ser Jaime, as a member of the Kingsguard, would likely name one of their cousins should he win, a nice, safe, neutral option unlikely to cause any chaos. Ser Jorah on the other hand…Weiss' eyes drifted towards the Hightower box, which was across from the Lannisters. Ser Jorah would likely name the Hightower woman he was infatuated with, the poor dear.

"How exciting!" Alysanne whispered. She was able to join Weiss in the Lannister Box today, which had the best view of the jousts aside from the Royal Box. Alis would join them before the melee, as she was spending time with her own family that had arrived to compete. Her Father and Uncle had been unhorsed by a Vance knight, nothing too spectacular, but at the same time, there'd been worse performers.

"It is." Weiss agreed. Ser Jaime and Ser Jorah had already broken three lances, and neither seemed ready to give up. Both men remained comfortable and steady upon their horses. Their squires handed them fresh and unbroken lances from a barrel stuffed with them.

Mother was busy with Lady Genna, having become friends during their visits to Casterly Rock. It was a wise and prudent political move on Mother's part, Lady Genna may have been married to a Frey, but she was still Lord Tywin's sister and acted as the Lady of the Rock. Even Lannisters needed allies within the family, and Lady Genna was one of the few with a direct line to Lord Tywin.

The two men charged at each other once more, and lowered their lances. With a loud crack, their lances shattered as they smashed into each other's shield. Neither man fell off of their horse, though they both shook in the aftermath. The crowd cheered as the two knights rode back to their starting positions. Strange, Weiss had heard that the Imp normally attended each of his brother's joust, yet the dwarf was nowhere to be found, just like her uncle. Maybe he was occupied elsewhere? Yeah, given his reputation, he was trying to drown himself in a barrel of wine, most likely.

During her excursion with Ser Robart the day before, a part of Weiss had hoped she would've been able to run into her Uncle to finally be able to get to know him. Family was important, even if they lived on the other side of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps she could convince Mother to allow Weiss to send letters to her Uncle Monford and Aurane?

The two knights charged once again, stirring up dirt and dust as they met again with the cracking for their lances, the fifth one. The sound was loud and splinters went flying which made Alysanne flinch and wrapped her arm around Weiss'. Ironic, considering the Lefford was physically the eldest of the two, though that didn't stop Weiss from placing a hand on top of the older girl's.

"Ser Jaime looks like a knight out of the songs." Alysanne said after a few minutes. She wasn't wrong, he reminded her of the Rusted Knight stories from back home. The two knights returned to their squires, most likely frustrated. Each broken lance earned them loud cheers, a testament to their skills.

"He does." Weiss nodded along. The joust, while the main event of every tourney, wasn't something that Weiss was sure she would never be interested in attempting. She was decent with a spear or lance, passable even, but Weiss always felt more comfortable with a sword in her hand.Weiss felt alive now that she was able to practice with a sword out in the open.

The lion great-helm that Ser Jaime wore was impressive, with the metal mane protecting the back of his neck. Weiss was sure the Lannisters would've been lion faunus had they existed back on Remnant. The joust continued for three more rounds, with neither rider ready to give in, which surprised Weiss. She had never expected Ser Jorah to have made this far, and certainly never expected him to last this long against her distant cousin. Their ninth lance left Ser Jorah's shield battered, scratched and dented, and Ser Jaime's shield wasn't any better.

"This'll go on all day until one of you lie dead. I have a melee to watch!" King Robert boomed, standing from his makeshift throne. The angle of the Lannister Box beside his gave Weiss a bad view of their liege, not that she wanted to see him groping another women like a piece of meat. "Kingslayer, can't knock a bear off of his horse? I suppose your lance isn't as good as your sword."

Men and women laughed at their King's bad joke. Asskissers and licklespits would always gravitate towards those in power, Weiss knew that very well. She pressed her lips in a thin line as King Robert ran his hands through his thick beard. It wasn't her place to judge, especially to say anything about the man who could overrule Tywin of all people.

"I declare Lord Jorah Mormont as the victor." King Robert suddenly declared with a grin. The crowd instantly erupted into cheers, from smallfolk to highborn they cheered for the man that had defeated the Kingslayer, who frowned for a few seconds before forming a lazy smile.That had offended him, but Ser Jaime seemed to be the type of person to not allow that to show publicly. Still, he had rode well and had not been knocked into the dust, there was honor in that. It wasn't like he'd lost to Blout, or worse. The Mormont had earned a victory, if only through endurance.

The only ones who did not cheer for Lord Mormont were those in the Lannister box. Ser Stafford, who was seated a few spots towards Weiss' left, had his jaw clenched with fiery eyes. Her other cousins had similar looks. They all knew the truth behind King Robert's decision, which was made to spite Lord Tywin.

"Go on! Choose your queen!" King Robert yelled with a giddy smile. The crowd paused, waiting to see who he would choose. Would this be a repeat of Harrenhal, or not? At least King Robert's wife wasn't present. That would really set the cat among the pigeons.

The announcer, dressed in colorful clothes with a queer hat, approached Lord Jorah, and handed him a crown made out of flowers. The Knight of Bears took it from his hands without another look, and urged his horse to a trot close to the Hightower Box. Weiss' aura enhanced vision gave her a clear view of Lynesse Hightower's cheeks turning a shade of pink. Oh good, it was her, and not Weiss. That would just be weird on so many levels. And probably lead to her trying to stab him, proprietary be damned.

The Mormont gently placed the crown on Lynesse's pretty hair, and she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek to the delight of everyone watching, aside from anyone with the name Lannister. There was only one thought going through Weiss' head as the joust came to an end.

Their marriage was never going to last.

The first melee was a dusty battlefield held on the outskirts of the tourney grounds. With fifty men, warriors from the North and as South as the Reach, it took nearly four hours for it to be done. Weiss had watched intently as her servants carried an umbrella to shield her from the sun. None of the Kingsguard had participated in this contest, likely to keep it fair, and because the joust was generally considered to be the more honorable of the two. Many knights and warriors still competed. Lannister, Frey, Piper, and even a couple Northern houses, with a representative from House Stark fought to bring their families honor and wealth.

It gave Weiss a chance to see how different every kingdom was when it came to their combat styles. Northerners preferred to wear chainmail and brigandine, sporting half-helms instead of full-helms. Weiss spotted more axes and greatswords in their armaments. The Riverlords were similar, though more seemed to be able to afford half-plate and great-helms had become more common.

The men from the Reach, primarily Hightowers, wore full-plate with surcoats with the sigils of their houses. They were the most similar to the Westerlands, the two being the richest of the Seven Kingdoms. The knights of the Vale also came close with their shining armor, though Bronze Yohn Royce wore a shirt that looked like it was made out of copper with runes carved onto it. Weiss wished she could've gotten a better look at them, but the confusion and the chaos of the melee had proved to be too much.

In the end, no one from those Kingdoms had won the melee, with the Red Priest, Thoros of Myr emerging as the victor. His skill at arms were just as the rumors said, with a blade lit with fire that caused many men to flee at the mere sight of the foreigner. He was a good swordsman aside from his one trick, though she had expected him to be leaner and not as portly. Weiss would've liked to have a conversation with him, but with Ser Robart and Alysanne spending every minute of the day with her, having such a private talk would be impossible. Add in her new religious status, and well, it might not go too well for her or him.

Weiss narrowed her eyes as she sat in the chair beside Father's, with Mother to his right. It didn't matter who won the joust or the first melee, none of that would be important in the long run. The melee to choose Weiss' new sworn sword would be the most important event of the tourney, in her mind at least. King Robert and many of the great lords had already ended their day, and were riding back to Casterly Rock for another feast.

A group of hedge knights and sellswords gathered on the melee grounds. Only a few had sigils on shields that were battered and well worn, and their armor varied from light chains to heavier plate. Even a few young lordlings had joined, likely far enough down the line of succession that this gamble was worth their time.

"I'm sure you all know the reward for being the victor." Father said dryly. "My beloved daughter is in need of a new sworn sword, one that is capable of protecting her."

Weiss spotted a few of the hedge knights nodding and whispering amongst themselves. It was a generous offer, especially if many of them didn't have a place to call home. Weiss spotted a lock of white hair, hidden underneath a greathelm that looked too big on its small body. Uncle Aurane was competing? How strange, he was already the squire for Lord Stannis, the King's brother and the Master-of-Ships, a lofty position. Then again, he was a squire, and having a more permanent position, one close to his family, well, she couldn't blame him for trying. Uncle Aurane's surcoat was white, with a turquoise stripe in the middle instead of a seahorse, likely to hide his identity.

"Head to your positions and begin once the horn blows." Father ordered. The group of men scattered, each giving the other distance. Once they were sufficiently spread out, he gave Ser Lary's a wave of the hand. The head of their household guard nodded and lifted the horn to his lips and blew loudly. Weiss sat on the edge of her seat with hard eyes.

Time to see who would be the victor.

The second melee was as chaotic and brutal as the first the day before. It was rather barbaric if Weiss was being honest, these people didn't have access to aura and any injuries they had would be permanent or fatal. Melees might not go out of their way to kill people, but deaths did happen. Worse, injuries suffered in them might not heal properly, leading to more deaths. Without antibiotics, even a small cut could get infected if left untreated, and that assumed they could offer proper treatment. Leeching was still in vogue after all.

By the end of the first hour, only half of the men that had started remained standing, including Uncle Aurane, who had done well against men who were two or three times his age and height. It was a shocking display of violence, but she supposed in hindsight, it made sense. Going from sleeping in a hedge to working for one of the richest families in Westeros? That was an offer nobody would pass up lightly. Aurane's body armor was lighter than most of the other warriors, likely because of his age, to take better advantage of his agility and speed. Weiss was personally hoping for his victory, as it would allow her to finally get closer to family members that weren't Lannisters. And if nothing else, his loyalty would be assured, unlike the rest of this bunch.

Another half-hour passed, and soon, only a dozen men remained standing. The others having been forced to yield, or been beaten unconscious and dragged off of the field by the attendants. A man in full-plate stood the farthest from the rest, having skirted the edges of the main combat, biding his time. Sparks flew as steel met steel and a sellsword had to be dragged off of the field, their chest caved in by a mace. Weiss didn't flinch nor did she allow herself to turn her eyes away. Eventually, only three men stood upon the field, Uncle Aurane, the armored knight, and a Tyroshi sellsword with a purple beard and yellow mustache.

The Tyroshi spun his scimitar in his dominant hand, while he wiped some sweat off his brow with the other. He was a heavyset man, yet even from this distance, she could tell it was muscle and not fat. He carried himself very much like an experienced warrior, his eyes flickering around the arena, watching his opponents carefully. Many had underestimated him from his colorful appearance, only to discover he was a ruthless man, betraying even those he would temporarily ally with in order to gain an advantage over. Weiss felt that he wouldn't be a good bodyguard, simply from the lack of trust on his part.

Uncle Aurane was panting hard, while his eyes also flickered between his opponents. Despite wearing the least armor out of the trio, he was rapidly exhausted, having fought the hardest out of them. It was evident he was running on fumes, and would have to end this fight fast, less he pass out altogether. He picked his opponent, and charged the Tyroshi. A gamble, but probably a wise one, the other knight was in plate, he was likely just as tired as he was.

Their footwork was sloppy, and their swings lacked effort, they were both tired after fighting under the hot sun nearly nonstop. The Tyroshi's scimitar slid past Uncle Aurane's great-helm, causing sparks to fly. Instead of backing off, Uncle Aurane tackled the Tyroshi, using his helmet like a battering ram to the foreigner's stomach. The Tyroshi dropped his blade with a grunt, allowing Uncle Aurane an opening. He slammed his fist in the opening of the Tyroshi's half-helm, smashing his nose and bloodying his face.

The Tyroshi tried grappling with her Uncle, but he remained determined and another punch from his armored gauntlet to the Tyroshi's face sent the foreigner to the ground with a thud. He didn't get up, having been knocked unconscious by the blow.

"Yah!" Uncle yelled, raising a bloodied gauntlet in the air. He celebrated too early, for the armored knight moved quickly and struck him in the back of his great-helm with a longsword's hilt, sending Uncle Aurane into the dirt. He groaned loudly, but didn't get back up.

Father rose from his seat. "It appears we have our winner. What is your name, Good-Ser?" The attendants moved to help the Tyroshi and Uncle Aurane out of the arena at least. Given the Tyroshi was unconscious, that meant dragging him to the side and slinging a bucket of water over his head.

The Knight quietly approached them, as close as he could at the edge of the melee grounds, and quickly went to one knee removing his great-helm that hid his features. The great-helm landed on the ground with a light thud. He had sandy brown hair with dark blue eyes, and was younger than Weiss had expected, not even older than twenty five, his clean shaven face likely didn't help. Her first thought was that he was Jaune, grown up, but she dismissed it. That was crazy, if it was Jaune, he would've recognized her, right? Then again, if he'd arrived before her, he could've just stopped looking for them to avoid the heartbreak.

"Ser Cedric of House Payne, my Lord." Cedric Payne declared. He kept his gaze aimed towards the ground.

"Congratulations, Ser Cedric." Mother said, her voice cold, she was speaking as the Lady of Lannisport, appearances had to be kept up. Hm, so he would be her new sworn sword.

He looked like an idiot.

A/N

And with that, the tourney arc is over!