Hello everyone, I do hope all of you are having such a great time. I've been doing fine myself. Especially, since, I keeping with my goal of two chapters per week. It's a lot of work, but worth it.
So now leaving that aside. Here is the next set of updates.
-One Piece: A Demons' Treasure. (One Chapter)
-Harry Potter and the Demon Empress (One Chapter)
-The White Lion of The Red Keep (Thre Chapters)
See you all soon! Please have fun and take care!
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Chapter 13
The Tourney being held at King's Landing was to soon become the most outlandish and exuberant in all of history. Every single Lord was there, and all of those who thought of themselves as important managed to attend—no doubt because of King Aerys' arrogance in making it a large party for himself. A sort of announcement that he was king and all the rest were below him. A childish announcement, no doubt, but the people didn't care or mind. They were there for the big games, for the jousts and melees. And for their schemes, they were all planning. One of them, where all the great noble houses were trying to outdo each other without luck, was to bring Prince Rhaegar to their side. A failure from the beginning, since it seemed that the prince had eyes only for the White Wolf of Winterfell.
Even her enemies had to admit that she was undeniably stunning, as her beauty was unrivalled across the seven kingdoms. Nevertheless, Galadriel had other plans in mind as she prepared herself for quite a long day ahead of her. But before that, she stared down at her sister, Lyanna, who was trying her hardest to look innocent.
"Lyanna…" Galadriel called as Lyanna whined, just like her direwolf.
"Gali! Please! Let me compete!" Lyanna pleaded with her older sister, who only chuckled at her plan. "No one would ever know! I even had a name for it!"
"The Knight of the Laughing Tree?" Galadriel answered, staring at her in silence and amusement. "Well, that's actually a good name, now that I think about it." Galadriel nodded.
"See! You even like it!"
"Lyanna…"
"Please, Gali! Please, just a few rounds! Just a few, that's all I want! I want to ride! I want to swing the sword! I could do that back in the North, but here... I feel trapped!" Lyanna once again pleaded with her older sister, who could understand why her little sister was so on edge. Back in the North, Galadriel has worked hard to remove some of the stigmas that come with female fighters or competitors. She created small tournaments where girls of all ages could compete in archery, jousting, melee, and more. It wasn't necessarily because she was a fervent and progressive woman. It was mainly so Lyanna and many others like her could finally have some freedom.
Ah, so that makes me a bit of a feminist? Galadriel pondered. It was still too soon to try and change the world on that matter. But step by step, it was changing. However, for the time being, some Northerners are keeping quiet about it.
"It's not that I don't want you to do it or that I don't trust your abilities, but we are in the South right now. People would grow suspicious of an unknown knight suddenly appearing. And the Mad King is, well, mad. I don't want you to be in danger from his madness."
Lyanna just gave her best puppy eyes she could muster. She held Galadriel's hand and sniffed loudly like she used to do when she was a child. Galadriel's resolve crumbled at the sight of her little sister pleading. Galadriel could be quite a pushover.
"Lyanna..."
"Please," Lyanna's sobs were fake and Galadriel knew it, but it seemed it didn't matter in the end.
Indeed, Galadriel was concerned for her sister. The venture was risky, but entertaining all the same. So, in a very uncharacteristic way, Galadriel just grumbled. "Alright, Lyanna. You can compete, just in the joust."
"Yes!" Lyanna exclaimed happily, hugging her sister tightly. "I love you! You're the best sister I have!"
"I am your only sister, you dummy," Galadriel chuckled. "However, the moment someone suspects something or if things begin to spiral out of control—"
"I'll stop immediately!" Lyanna replied with a big goofy smile. "Don't worry! I just want to slam someone into the ground in the joust. Just one! Then I'll be fulfilled!"
Galadriel rolled her eyes, wondering where her sister got this strange and suddenly serious need to hit people with her stick. "Also, don't tell anyone else. Especially our father—no, our mother. She'll kill you if she finds out about this... and me too, for letting you compete."
Lyanna just huffed in a fun way as she puffed her chest. "I shall never rattle you out, my beloved sister. My lips are sealed!"
"Yeah, sure they are," Galadriel grumbled. "So, where is your armour, oh mischievous knight?"
"Don't worry. I have it hidden. I knew you'd suspect something wrong if I had brought it with me, in one of the carriages, so I asked Lord Muller to send it first to King's Landing and have someone take care of it for me."
"Wait, Lord Muller helped you out?" Galadriel now asked, utterly stunned that Pandora's actor had done something like this behind her back. That little…!
"Yes, you see, he likes me," Lyanna scoffed arrogantly, earning a pinch on her cheek from Galadriel. "Ow! Ouch!"
"Lose your cheek, Lyanna," Galadriel replied sternly, making sure to let Lyanna know that she was still her older sister. And in Bukubukuchagama's wise words: A younger sibling must always listen to the oldest sibling!
"Sorry! Sorry!" Lyanna replied, grumbling quietly, holding her red cheek, and almost sobbing. "You're so mean."
"It's tough love, my dear," Galadriel smiled, kissing Lyanna's cheek. "Now, the joust will begin at midday, and so did the melee. Our parents are going to be sitting near us—or perhaps near the royal family. I can't be sure."
Lyanna raised her eyebrows. "Wait, aren't you going to sit with Rhaegar?"
"No, from what I understand. He's going to compete, just like everyone else. It seems the King has demanded it."
Galadriel swore that Aerys was not only jealous of his son but somehow wished him death. Perhaps not necessarily, but the paranoia of the old king was truly confusing sometimes. Maybe Aerys thought Rhaegar wanted him gone so he could finally stabilise the Seven Kingdoms, which would be quite hard to achieve while his father was still alive. Honestly, Galadriel was surprised to hear that Rhaegar was truly thinking of something like that. Not by killing his father, but by genuinely thinking of finding a peaceful way to remove him. Maybe he wasn't the sweet prince everyone thought he was, which was a surprise.
"So, yeah, I shall behave like the proper lady watching her betrothed joust, like a gallant knight," Galadriel muttered with a scoff, half amused. "Maybe one would knock him in the dirt? I'll pay to see that."
Then, Lyanna smiled widely, and Galadriel recognised that smirk. It was Brandon's smirk when he was thinking about something mischievous or planning to do something.
"Truly?" Lyanna smirked. "Wouldn't you mind if I force dear, sweet, and gallant Prince Rhaegar into the dirt?"
Galadriel could already see it; truthfully, it was quite a hilarious scene. However, the only reason she was truly worried about such a thing was that whoever landed a clear hit on Rhaegarhe would surely attract the attention of everyone, including the king himself. And that wasn't something with which Galadriel felt comfortable. The last thing she wanted was for Lyanna to be questioned or something worse. That meant she would have to kill the king, and that wasn't something she wanted to do now. Albedo wasn't ready yet.
"Lyanna, try not to draw the attention of the people. That's all I want, alright? If you win against the prince, then people will want to know who this mysterious knight is, and that could be dangerous," Galadriel explained clearly, making Lyanna scoff.
"Lucky…"
"Just remember to be careful; that's all I want. Could you do that for me?"
Lyanna sighed deeply, nodding. "Yes, I will. A few rounds, one or two knights on eating dirt, and I am out. Happy?"
"Very much! Now, let's prepare; this will be a long day."
Rhaegar sighed as he looked around his tent, while his squires helped him with his armour. Yet, while everyone expected him to be quite anxious about the upcoming joust, the prince couldn't help but sigh about the beautiful woman who was his bride. He spent all night thinking about her and dreaming about her. Galadriel's golden eyes and white-snowy hair were in his every thought. How could the gods gift him something so precious to him? Who was he to deserve a unique and beautiful flower-like her?
"My prince, is something on your mind?" Myles Mooton asked as the young boy finished strapping the prince's chest plate.
"No, nothing at all," Rhaegar replied gently. "Just a thought about a certain person."
"Could it be the White Wolf?" Richard Lonmouth, another of Rhaegar's squires, asked, holding the prince's sword. Rhaegar only stared back at him, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean, Lady Galadriel," Richard corrected himself while earning a small chuckle from Rhaegar.
"Don't apologise, but yes, I was talking about her."
Both young squires only looked at each other, and while they were fervently loyal to Rhaegar, they couldn't help but envy the royal prince. Everyone would kill just to have her hand in marriage. But now that she has been promised to him by oath, all could only stand back and mutter under their breath about the lucky prince.
"Has our prince spoken to her?"
"Yes, lengthy talks, in fact. This is not our first time meeting, nor should it be the last."
"She is so beautiful," Richard muttered, before gulping nervously at Rhaegar's stares, but it seemed that the prince took such a compliment with grace and only smiled gently at him.
"Don't be afraid; we are in agreement that she is indeed the most beautiful woman in all of the Seven Kingdoms. There is nothing that you say that should be taken as an insult."
Rhaegar had to admit that he was indeed growing jealous of everyone's stares, especially when their eyes were filled with nothing but lust. Maybe it was just part of being a man—the need to not share what was his—and Rhaegar could feel the same now. Yet he had to be patient. After all, soon he will claim her as his. One night, Rhaegar had to admit that he was waiting with excitement.
Rhaegar, however, quickly had the terrible feeling that someone was staring at him with malice. He wondered why he got this unsettling feeling of being followed as he cast a perplexed and slightly fearful glance around him, trying to find out who was glaring at him with such hatred. Yet he found nothing but the squires, who looked at him confused.
"My prince?" One asked. "Is everything alright?"
Rhaegar gulped, still feeling shivers. "Yes, I am, just… anxious about the joust."
"My prince, the joust is about to begin," Ser Arthur called as he entered the tent.
"Thank you; I shall be there soon."
Rhaegar shook that feeling of fear away before focusing on the tournament ahead of him. He went out, and his steed was already waiting for him, just like one of his loyal Kingsguards and friends beside Ser Arthur.
"Ser Oswell, I heard that Ser Barristan is going to compete too," Rhaegar asked, slowly brushing his horse.
"Aye, my prince. I think he wanted to showcase his skill."
"Ser Barristan rides well," Ser Arthur added. "No doubt he could win the joust easily, like a melee."
"No word from the Sword of the Morning?" Ser Oswell teased, "Don't you think you could beat Ser Barristan in a duel?"
Ser Arthur didn't take the bait. "No. Ser Barristan's skills are still far beyond mine."
"So humble, my ser."
Ser Arthur rolled his eyes as Ser Oswell chuckled. Rhaegar smiled, looking at both of his loyal friends having fun. Normally, no one would ever see such sights. Ser Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, and Ser Oswell would, more often than not, have almost expressionless faces. They were rigid, non-comical, and had zero tolerance for insubordination. They only show their true selves when no one's looking.
"I doubt any men here would like to test Ser Barristan's sword skill. Thankfully, he doesn't like melees."
"Good, Ser Arthur doesn't either," Ser Oswell stated, earning a scoff from Ser Arthur. "Otherwise, a blood bath would take place."
The group made their way to the jousting arena, where cheering and a large crowd were slowly displaying the upcoming event.
"This is the biggest joust I have ever seen," Ser Oswell muttered.
"The king's invitation has made sure to let all of Westeros know that this is important... I only wonder why."
The group soon prepared, and the squires quickly helped Rhaegar into his horse and quickly gave him the Targaryen banner.
"Good luck, my prince. I heard there are so many renowned knights here, trying to take on the glory," Myles Mooton stated, watching the prince wear his amazing, inspired dragon armour.
"Many would surely like to be the ones beating you, my prince," Ser Arthur added. "Few had such an opportunity before."
"Aye, I heard the same," Rhaegar only replied. "But they should know that I am a dragon."
Rhaegar's confidence in his skill was something few people could notice. Yes, he wasn't one to look for a fight. Rhaegar was more of a peaceful observer. Yet when it came down to it, Rhaegar's Targaryen arrogance came out, in a soft but subtle way. There weren't many people who could pin it down, but Rhaegar saw himself differently. True, he was gentle, soft-spoken, and loved singing so everyone could hear him. He wasn't cruel, nor did he wish pain on people. But Rhaegar's arrogance was so ingrained in his thoughts that he continued to believe he was superior to regular folk. The sorrowful circumstances of his birth proved he was born to fulfil a specific role in the world.
Rhaegar was gallant. Rhaegar was noble. Rhaegar was loved. But Rhaegar may have his own brand of madness.
All of those things, those little ways he talks to his loyal servant, to the small-folk, to everyone else, were being carefully inspected by someone who would swallow him whole. In order to learn everything about him.
"Good luck, my prince."
The kingsguard spoke as Rhaegar rode into the field, next to a dozen others.
Every knight in the Seven Kingdoms was there, riding proudly with their house banner, showcasing their arrogance and, perhaps soon, their joy. It was clear that the houses there were all gambling on the best one to win, or perhaps to showcase a case of bravery and win the joust. Undoubtedly, some truly felt that honour had a strong presence in a joust. Yet others would think that such a thing didn't exist. However, among them, there were some knights without names: the Hedge Knights, who travel from tourney to tourney in search of the opportunity to impress a lord.
Rhaegar paid little mind to a certain mysterious knight, who slowly strolled next to him. He had black armour, and his banner was of a tree. A small scoff made Rhaegar glance next to him, and under the helmet, Rhaegar just could wonder, Why does he feel some frustration from that particular knight? He waved it off as he focused on the stands, where he quickly saw his beautiful bride. The snowy-white hair was easy to stop, especially given that it is currently white. His beloved lady seemed more preoccupied with enjoying her meal than the joust itself.
"I shall win this and proclaim you the queen of love and beauty."
Rhaegar whispered as he prepared himself for the joust.
On the stands, however, things were highly different.
"Galadriel, stop eating this instant!" Lyarra hissed at her oldest daughter, who furiously tried to swallow the piece of bread.
"Sowy!" Galadriel mumbled, swallowing her food quickly. "I was so hungry, I couldn't eat anything solid yesterday."
"Gods be good," Lyarra muttered, furiously cleaning her daughter's cheek. "How can you be this old and still eat like a farm goat?"
"That's…"
"Shut up, Galadriel. And stop moving, you have bread crumbs all over you."
"Yes, mother," Galadriel replied slowly.
"Rickard, where are Brandon and Eddard?"
Rickard sighed deeply. "I don't know." Earning a tired and anxious sigh from Lyarra, who glanced around looking for her sons; thankfully, she didn't have to wait long enough for it. "There they are!"
Eddard and Brandon quickly arrived, and Galadriel was quick to see that Brandon was hungover. Ned, for his part, held a small smile, one that made Galadriel smirk.
"Brandon, Edward, where were you? For the gods! Brandon, you reek of wine!"
"Sorry, mother. I just drank too much last night," Brandon muttered as he sat down next to his father, while Ned sat next to a smirking Galadriel.
"Don't worry, mother. It is good that neither of them participated in the joust," Galadriel pointed out, trying to relax her beloved mother, who seemed that the stress of the entire thing was slowly making her more paranoid. "I wouldn't want them to put more stress on you."
Galadriel then stared back at the field, where she could see Lyanna, dressed as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Yeah, no more stress would be nice. Galadriel groaned internally.
"Galadriel, where is Lyanna?"
"She's still asleep; she told me she'd come here later. You know she's not a morning riser," Galadriel stated nervously, while Ned and Brandon glanced at her confused.
"This girl…" Lyarra muttered, watching the first round begin.
Oddly enough, the first round was Lyanna against the Pitchfork Knight, of house Haigh. Everyone watched the dark-armoured knight ride quickly and hold his ground in the first serve. Everyone cheered as both knights prepared their horses for one more round, and it was then that Lyanna used her size and mobility to aim her lance directly at the Pitchfork Knight's chest. Landing a clear hit and earning cheers from the rest of the people there.
"Wow, that really landed in the chest!"
"Amazing!"
"That seemed to have broken something."
The chatter was loud enough for Lyanna to simply look at the stands, while Galadriel couldn't see her face. She knew Lyanna was smugly puffing her chest. Galadriel simply rolled her eyes but kept an eye out for any suspicious activity, like always. She glanced up, where the king was sitting, and Aerys simply seemed to watch the joust with mild boredom.
There were two more rounds, one against the Porcupine Knight of House Blount and one against the Knight of the Two Towers of House Frey. Lyanna won them all. She was truly good at it. Yet, it seemed that Ned and Brandon recognised the way the mysterious knight of the Laughing Tree rode.
"The way he holds the lance..." Brandon muttered.
"The way he rides... Ned muttered as well.
"Hey, Galadriel, are you sure Lyanna is sleep-" Soon, both siblings glanced at their sister, who was whistling nervously. It was then that it dawned on them.
"Bloody hell," Brandon groaned, but he had to admit that only Lyanna would do something like that. So, he simply chuckled.
"This can be problematic," Ned whispered while staring at Galadriel.
"What are you two talking about?" Lyarra asked, and wisely enough, his three siblings simply replied. "Nothing mother. Nothing at all."
Soon, everyone saw The Knight of the Laughing Tree waving his banner around, proudly showcasing his skill to everyone. Of course, they didn't know; it was but a daughter of House Stark. And Lyanna was having the time of her life.
"The winner of the first round of the joust! The Knight of the Laughing Tree!" The announcer exclaimed loudly as everyone cheered for Lyanna, who seemed utterly joyful. However, as all of that was going on, Galadriel glanced back to where the king was sitting, and she could see it now in those eyes of his. He was looking suspiciously at that knight. Galadriel saw him whisper something to one of the king's guards before they left. Galadriel knew then that it was bad.
"Brandon, Ned," Galadriel whispered quickly. "I must go; the king seems suspicious."
Brandon and Ned quickly glanced at the king and saw that the king was looking to where Lyanna took off; he was speaking something and almost looking furious. They didn't need to be nearby to figure out he was talking about Lyanna's presence. The paranoia of that man would look for traitors and enemies in every shadow. So, they realised how dangerous it was.
"Act normally," Galadriel whispered before standing up. "Mother, I shall go and wake Lyanna up. She's missing all of this."
Lyarra, who looked rather tired and sick, simply sighed. "Yes, yes, of course."
Galadriel frowned at the sigh of her mother, who looked sick. She would keep an eye open and make sure to heal her from any pain or sickness. But now she must get Lyanna out of danger.
Alright, Lyanna, you've had your fun now. We must stop this before someone gets hurt. Or should I…? Galadriel hummed deeply, wondering how she could.
"Mm, it's not worth it." I would put myself at risk for gains, but I would never put my family in that position."
Galadriel whispered as she walked towards her sister, and truthfully. She wondered how she could use the mad king to her advantage. "Mm, I just need a little imagination."
Lyanna chuckled as she took her helmet off, looking all sweaty under her armour, but still, the smile on her face was worth all the nasty smell.
"Did you see it? Did you see how they all ate the mud?" Lyanna exclaimed at her partner in crime, Howland Reed, the small yet brave Crannogman. Although he was actually quite thin, his frame gave the impression of being strong and suitable for hunting. Howland was truly an exceptional hunter, or became one, and the reason for that was that every time he went out, he followed Lyanna, who loved hunting. And if she loved something, Howland would do anything to make sure she enjoyed it more.
One could say that Howland Reed utterly loved Lyanna.
"I-I did," Howland muttered, blushing. "You we-you were amazing, Lyanna!"
Lyanna, who was oblivious to Howland's feelings, simply laughed as she brushed her horse. "I can't wait to slam that annoying prick, Rhaegar, on the ground in the next round."
Howland tilted his head. "Why did you hate him so much, Lyanna?"
Lyanna scoffed. "Have you not seen how he stares at Galadriel? It's creepy! Utterly creepy, although that annoying cousin of Robert has the same glares."
Howland could understand that notion: few people could look away from the beauty that was Galadriel Stark; he wasn't different. Although, if he were honest with himself, the White Wolf of Winterfell truly terrified him. Galadriel had something that made him feel quite uneasy. It was as if she were something more.
"I'm going to stick this lance into his self-righteous, annoying face."
Howland only nodded slowly. However, all of those plans were stopped the moment a recognisably female voice was heard.
"That's enough, Lyanna."
Howland and Lyanna squealed in surprise after hearing the voice of Galadriel, who appeared out of nowhere.
"Where did you come from?!" Lyanna exclaimed in surprise. "Wait, how do you know I was here?!"
Galadriel simply chuckled. "I always know where you are, Lyanna. I'm your big sister, after all."
"That doesn't make things better... only creepier," Lyanna commented, sounding a bit anxious. "But wait, what do you mean I can't no longer compete?"
"The king has grown suspicious of you. The mysterious knight, who has suddenly beaten three well-known knights from minor houses He's paranoid, Lyanna. Right now, he has sent some of his kingsguard to look out for you."
Now, Lyanna seemed taken aback by that sudden news; she expected something to happen, a small little nuisance from other lords being beaten. The arrogance of the South—that was what Lyanna expected. But at the same time, she should have known better than to taunt a mad person. It was clear that if Galadriel had come all this way to find her, it must be because she was truly worried about her. Yet, Lyanna whined softly at the fact that she was so close to competing against Rhaegar.
"I want to hit Rhaegar."
Galadriel rolled her eyes. "You can't hit the prince, Lyanna. Or at least intentionally."
Lyanna scoffed but simply muttered angry words under her breath. Galadriel simply chuckled. "Let's go, Lyanna. You had your fun; let's not make a mess of this. Our mother is already stressed out. She's very sick."
Lyanna sighed deeply as she put her helmet down. "Alright. Can you help me with the armour?"
"Of course," Galadriel replied, as she then stared at Howland with a smile. "Howland, could you be a dear and hide Lyanna's armour and horse?"
"Yeah, of course, my lady!" The little Crannogmen replied, blushing deeply and trying to look away from Lyanna, who was shamelessly beginning to get rid of her armour. Showing a bit more skin than usual. She was drenched in sweat, and that undergarment she was wearing left little to the imagination. Howland simply squealed and quickly picked up the banner and helmet and left the two sisters alone. Galadriel simply shook her head in amusement.
"You two are very close," Galadriel pointed out, as she took the breastplate off Lyanna's body. "You're not very close to other men."
"Uh? Howland? He is my friend," Lyanna said, a bit unaware of the current situation. "We have known each other since we were kids. We used to play a lot in the mud, remember?"
"I do know that, also, you two go out on hunts," Galadriel pointed out, with a teasing smile, as Lyanna frowned at her.
"Ah, yes, we do; why is that a problem? It's not like we are doing anything."
Galadriel knew that as well. Lyanna and Howland truly just hunt and nothing more, but it seemed that her sister hasn't realised that Howland was already a young man and she was already a young woman. Things change, especially when one falls in love with the other. In this case, Howland loved Lyannaan, but to his misfortune, she was truly unaware of his feelings for her. Lyanna kept treating him as if he were like Benjen. Joking around, playing with swords, riding together, and going on hunts She didn't realise that both were young adults and that changing clothes in front of him was quite inappropriate now. Thankfully, Howland was an honest, calm, and overall good lad. He won't ever put a finger on Lyanna. That's why Galadriel liked him a bit.
Yet the fact remains that Lyanna's behaviour could hurt them both in the future. Galadriel knew what having a crush could do to a person. It was beautiful and painful. So, she wanted Howland not to experience that hurt. However, at the end of the day, it would be Lyanna's decision what to do with that crush.
"Lyanna, perhaps it would be prudent that you think carefully about Howland's feelings."
Lyanna, who was changing clothes, stopped midway only to stare at her. "Feelings? What feelings?"
Galadriel groaned as she took a deep breath. "You know... maybe Howland sees you more than a friend?"
Lyanna was truly confused now. "Eh? I don't follow."
Whoa! I never thought it would be this hard! Galadriel pinched her nose as she wondered how she could put it in gentle terms. "Think about it, does he blush when he's with you? Stutters? Or maybe he gifts you things?"
Lyanna tilted her head, trying to think carefully about what Galadriel was speaking about. "Uh, he gave me a... wooden flower, during my last names-day."
"See! Maybe is for a reason?" Galadriel smiled, while Lyanna simply frowned deeply.
"Because he is my friend?"
Galadriel just stood there, defeated. "I… I…"
"What? What's with these questions? I don't get it."
"Nothing. It's nothing," Galadriel muttered slowly. I'm sorry, Howland. I'm so sorry, that my sister is this dumb.
"You're weird, Galadriel. Really, I just can't understand you."
Galadriel simply sighed deeply, not knowing that being a big sister could be that hard.