AN: I LIVE!

If you are solely interested in just this story, then I apologize for the wait. But I would ask that you at least give my other stories a fair chance.

I know what you are all waiting for, so I will save most of my AN for the end like usual. Hope you enjoy it!

KING'S LANDING- STREET OF STEEL

GENDRY

The apprentice stared at everything on the bed. The sum of what he owned.

There were two spare outfits nearly identical to the one he currently wore, save for the locations of specific stain. He was very lucky to have that spare third shirt and pants. Most of the people in Flea bottom were lucky to have just two, but Tobho Mott demanded he have a clean outfit possible so as to deliver works throughout the city. Something about maintaining an image of quality.

Then, there was his Deck. Like everyone else, it and the Duel Disk had just appeared on his arm when he woke up, and his own lack of reading knowledge did not prevent him from being able to duel. The fact that cards were also being sold by Master Mott meant that Gendry could easily make his own deck. While thieves were unable to take cards without paying, Gendry's work seemed to exempt him to some extent. Master Mott knew what his deck was, and never denied Gendry a card, even if the price was more than he could afford.

The Duel Disk was also indestructible, or near enough. He should know. He and Master Mott lost several hammers on the first day of the Card's appearence.

The next item was a comb that he THINKS belonged to his mother, but he was too young at the time to remember the specifics. It was coated with Silver, and would fetch a good price if he could bring himself to sell it. Her brushing her hair with it was his only decent memory of her. There was also something she said, about his father, whoever he was, being the one to gift it to her. Fat lot of good he was, since he still abandoned them. If Master Mott abandoned him, it was his last resort.

The final item was a small cloth pouch. It contained all the actual money he had to his name, from odd jobs he took on due to his size as well as Master Mott's allowance so he could care for himself. Before, it had only ever held Coppers, with the occasional pair of Silver Stags added in when a visiting lord did not know how to handle payment needed help. But now, gold was inside the bag.

Gendry had handled gold before for Mott, but he never dared try to take it for himself. Mott had taken him in sort of out of nowhere, saying his frame was built to be a smith. He figured stealing gold would erase any good relation that had been built between them.

But then the King had started visiting. And the King had decided to give him half a dozen Gold Dragons. If Mott was going to object, he would have right after the King left.

Six Gold Dragons was a lot of money. Sure, by no means would he be considered rich, not when compared to the money these lords threw around when they felt like it for no real reason, but if he was smart, he could probably leave the Capital, buy some land to farm, and still have some gold to spare for emergencies. Perhaps even a price for a bride.

He could use this one chance to make a comfortable life for himself. Or, he could throw caution to the wind, bet on the chance to win the tournament, and then become a lord. Even if he lost, then he could simply continue on with being an apprentice.

Gendry picked up one of the coins. He knew not which king was on it, only that it was not Robert, and his beard was long.

He threw the coin into the air and caught it in his fist.

WHITE HARBOR

JON SNOW

As their party road into the gates of the North's only city, those who had never been here looked around in wonder.

Jon looked at his friends and companions who had decided to go to the tournament.

Robb and Sam were the least amazed, Robb having been here before, and Sam having been to Oldtown. Arya had also been here before, but she was still grinning as though it was a new adventure. Sansa was also looking around at the city, glad to finally be off the road after so long. Gilly and Ygritte were looking around at the city as though overwhelmed by the sheer amount of buildings. The largest singular settlement they had seen had been Winter Town, which was not even very populated at this time outside of Winter.

They were greeted at the entrance by none other than Lord Manderly himself. The fat but jovial man was the same as Jon's last memory of him from a trip here with Robb and Father, save for a few extra pieces of gray apparent in his hair.

The lord of White Harbor bowed as both Robb and Jon approached him.

"My Lord Robb, My Lord Jon. White Harbor welcomes you, brief as your stay is. We received word that you were traveling to the Capital for the Twins Tournament, if I am not mistaken."

Jon still felt a strange sense at being addressed as Robb's equal. While he was still behind Rickon in the succession, his status as the new Hero of the North made up for the difference between Jon and Robb. Many Northerners felt similarly, with Lords bowing to him in a way they would never consider doing for a Bastard. Even the Smallfolk who did not know much about the nobility seemed to make assumptions, as when they had stopped at a small farming village, an old man said he hoped to live to experience Jon's lordship of Winterfell.

Normally, such talks would drive a wedge between even full siblings. And Jon had feared such a thing would happen with Robb.

But it had not.

Robb was the one who laughed the hardest when the old man spoke. Robb was the one who praised Jon's heroic act to anyone who would listen- having pried the story out of himself and Ygritte.

Jon shook himself out of such thoughts. Lord Wyman was still speaking.

"...Actually the third group to come hire a ship and crew since the Tournament was announced." Wyman said. "In fact, the Bolton boy Domeric was here for a bit, but said he would be on his way back South for it. He just wanted to check on his father and Keep before he went back."

Robb grinned. "I see. Well if the rumours are true, I look forward to facing him for the Twins."

Wyman let out a chuckle himself. "That would be a duel to remember, but I am curious, what are you going to do if you do win the Twins? You are already heir to Winterfell."

Robb had been asked that several times before. He never gave a clear answer. "Honestly, I do not know myself. Probably give it to a loyal bannerman. Or perhaps Bran or Rickon will want it."

They continued talking all the way to the Manderly's Keep of New Castle. Father had told them they could spend a day there so that they could catch a ship the next day. Lord Manderly was more than happy to play host to them so soon after doing the same for Father.

That night, they feasted with their hosts, who seemed more excited than most Stark bannermen at their presence. Robb spoke with Wyman and his sons, Sam had both Gilly and the Maester wrapped in conversation with him about many topics, Sansa spoke with Wynafryd, seeing the elder noble lady as a source of charm and etiquette. Arya naturally gravitated towards the sister Wyla instead.

Jon had noticed Wynafryd looking at him strangely for a moment, but then she stopped just as Ygritte walked towards him and they stayed together.

Jon grimaced a bit. While he was a hero, he doubted how long such a title would last once it became known that he and Ygritte were lovers. Back at Winterfell, it had been something no one really talked of, but everyone essentially knew.

Jon knew it would not be a secret, he just hoped he could weather the problems it brought.

But that was a problem for later. For now, he had a tournament to participate in.

KING'S LANDING-SMALL COUNCIL CHAMBER

ROBERT

"So, this is what you came up with?" Stannis asked as he held the Gold Dragon in his hand.

"Yes. A proof of victory that can also help those who decide to give up halfway through. Though I do wish His Grace had chosen Silver instead of Gold." Baelish said as he took the Gold Dragon back.

"It may be more expensive, but we will more than make up for it with the price of participating in the tournament." Robert defended. He looked over at Jon Arryn. "How are the lists coming along?"

The hand cleared his throat. "Several wealthy merchants have already submitted their names for the tournament. Local Lords of the Crownlands have done the same, and every day people arrive in the city for the same. No one whose name is not among the lists will be allowed to participate in the tournament, and if anyone does, they will be arrested."

"At least there are some rules." Stannis grumbled. "So what exactly is the cutoff for the first part of the tournament?"

"Sort of depends on how many manage to make it through all six days." Robert said, "But I would set up for at ten and six to two and thirty bracket for the final part. If we need to make it even, we can simply elevate the winner of the traditional melee."

Renly then decided to speak up. "Considering the fact that there will be two winners, is there not going to be a final duel? I know Loras was asking about that. He said he would prove himself against all opponents."

'Renly really does spend a lot of time with his former squire.' Robert thought. For all of Robert's (Justified) anger at Renly's abandonment of the Stormlands in favor of court life, he was still his brother. Perhaps he could talk with Ser Loras and see if he would be willing to help Renly get better at ruling. One of his biggest regrets was that Ned was so far away that he could not get his help whenever he needed it. Perhaps the Knight of Flowers could be Renly's Ned.

The Council Meeting then moved from the tournament and into the final remaining issues of the Dornish war.

"Lord Tarly is likely to approach you during or after the tournament." Varys said. "He wishes to press his claim to Blackmont."

"There is no claim." Stannis said. "He took the castle under orders from the crown, but that does not make him the lord of it."

"It may be in our best interest to grant it to him." Baelish suggested. "Lord Tarly is one of the greatest military minds in the Kingdoms. Giving that man additional reasons for loyalty can not hurt."

"I know what Tarly wants." Robert said before the argument got too out of hand. "I have actually been considering him since the war. Ned… brought some things to my attention. Do not concern yourselves with him."

The meetings continued on for another hour, before they got to the final issue. The one that guaranteed the surrender of Dorne. The one that had many in the room nervous. But, as king, Robert asked the question.

"Where is the Mountain?"

It was Pycelle who spoke up. "He is on his way to Dorne as we speak, per Lord Tywin's orders. Word of his demise will probably reach us during the tournament."

CUY- A SMALL ALEHOUSE

SER GREGOR CLEGANE

The Mountain took the flagon of ale and drained it in less than a minute, the pisspoor drink spilling down onto himself and the table. The men around him were giving him and his boys plenty of room.

For whatever they thought of him, Ser Gregor Clegane was a loyal man.

When the Old Lion told him to kill bandits, he killed them without question. The more violent the deaths the better. When he was told to end the dragon's line, he made sure to do just that. And he had even managed to have more fun than usual with that task, though that time it seemed like Tywin was less than pleased. But he had not been punished, because he had followed orders.

So, when the Old Lion told him to get the final blood out of Dorne, as a final reminder that the Westerlands were not to be trifled with, he did as the man said, bringing his loyal group called the Mountain's Men with him.

They had not been called into the war, instead Tywin told him to stay and help keep peace in the Westerlands. But everyone knew the truth. Ser Gregor could no longer fight.

Ever since the Cards had appeared, The Mountain's uses had been reduced.

He had tried to make a deck filled with powerful cards, but he had never managed to power through the enemy on his own strength. He was not a strategist. He just needed to be told where to charge and he would kill.

Lord Tywin gave him this order saying that he had accounted for that. According to Tywin, the moment he began to raze a village, the WAR MODE would reactivate in the region, allowing him to summon his monsters and participate in the battle himself. Just like the good days before the blasted Cards.

He and his men would cross the Torretine in the night, and attack the villages one by one, making their way North out of Dorne. That was what Tywin told him, so he would do so.

He saw Shitmouth and Chiswyck get into a drunken shouting match over a wench who was pale with fright towards them. But she was the one who was bringing them drinks, and she was smart enough to know not to stop.

Normally he would just kill which one of them was more annoying, but now he could not. He would try that once WAR MODE was active. If he remembered.

He finished another flagon. The wine was shit, but it did help with his head a bit. He stood up and threw a few coppers at the Owner of the Alehouse. Not enough to be worth what his men were doing, but the owner wouldn't be getting any more out of them.

He left the Alehouse and moved towards the Inn that he and the men were staying at. When the Innkeeper first saw him come, he offered the best room for almost nothing.

Gregor walked into the Inn and down the hall. The best room was at the end of the hall.

He stopped. The door was closed, but light from a fire was burning in the room. Someone was in there.

In no mood for pleasantries- not that he ever was- he practically ripped the door off its hinges as he opened it.

A man was sitting by the hearth. The first thing that Gregor noticed in the light was the man's white hair, divided by a streak of black. Another few seconds, and he saw the man was Dornish, with purple eyes.

"Ah. Ser Gregor Clegane. I was wondering when you would arrive." The stranger said as though he and Gregor were old friends. He had killed one of his own men for less.

"What are you doing here? OUT!" He barked out. He knew his own duel record. If he could intimidate the stranger into leaving, it would be better.

The Dornishman simply smiled. "I understand your desire to be alone, but I am afraid we do not have the time. If you are to survive, I must act quickly."

Before Gregor could bark out another order, the Dornish man's Duel Disk materialized. He pulled out the top card, and as he did so, his arm was lit aflame. Purple flame.

Yet he paid the fire almost no mind, and Gregor briefly saw that it was in the shape of a Spider. Instead, he simply revealed the card as it glowed like his arm.

"Spellbinding Circle!" The Dornish man yelled.

Finally realizing he should probably move, Gregor found that he could not, as a circle of light appeared around him, keeping him paralyzed as though he was tied by Valyrian Steel chains.

Unable to keep his own balance, Gregor fell face first onto the ground.

The Dornishman walked up to him. "If I was anyone else, you would be dead by now. Ironic, me killing you may actually be enough for Oberyn to forgive me for leading him to his death. But don't worry friend. I have plans for you. In fact, I am probably the only one in the Seven Kingdoms who does not want you dead. Certainly the only Dornish."

Gregor's own Duel Disk appeared on his arm, only for the stranger to grab his deck and look through it.

He sighed as if disappointed. "I see. It's a good thing I came. Your deck was exactly as Lord Tywin told Robert and the Council. Had you gone on to Dorne, you and your men would have been slaughtered by an army pretending to be a village. Trust me, I was the one charged with leading the men."

The Dornish man drew another card from his own deck.

"Copycat!"

A monster appeared between them, but before it could fully form, its appearance changed to get larger. Soon it was equal in size to Ser Gregor.

Then the light faded, and Gregor found himself staring at himself.

The Dornishman let out a gasping breath. "Whoo! Using that power just after I get enough strength back is not pleasant, let me tell you. I hope you are worth all this."

He handed Gregor's deck to the copy. Then he turned and smiled at Ser Gregor. "Now then, while it leads your men to their doom, I would like to formally invite you to High Hermitage. So let us get going."

AN: I was hoping to include a duel to get back in the swing of things, but I ran out of time to get this out on time. But the tournament will officially begin next chapter.

Just a heads up, I have Midterms this week, so I probably won't even start the next chapter until those are over, (Though I do have an outline of it.) So the next one will be tentatively scheduled for in 3 weeks.

So we begin this chapter with Gendry contemplating the tournament and what the money means to him. He has no idea why Robert has taken an interest, so he does not know what it means. He honestly considers just pocketing the money, but also knows there is a chance that he could become a lord and escape King's Landing.

Then we have Jon arrive in Whiteharbor with the rest of the Northern gang. Just a show that they are taking the faster way there. But then we get into the Jon/Ygritte relationship. Remember, Winterfell may know her, but to the rest of the North she is just another Wildling savage.

Baelish unveils the way the tournament will be measured to the Small Council. I also use it to reintroduce some previous plot points, and to set up some basic rules of the tournament. More will come in the next chapter.

And the meat of the chapter: Gregor and Gerold have met each other. The first is a bloodthirsty knight, murderer and Rapist. The second is a kinslaying madman with access to dark magic. Together, they fight crime.

Kidding.

Just how much danger will these two pose?

With that, I bid you adieu for now.

I hope you all stay safe, and I wish you good luck in all your future endeavors.

See you next chapter,

Jaehaerys Joestar