A/N: This was one long chapter, but I hope y'all enjoyed it. The little ending wouldn't have been included if I didn't get the suggestion of one of YOU reviewers. I will add the time skips to make the chapter seem more divided, but it might not be there for the first publishing cycle. This is probably the longest chapter I have written with a record length of over 6,300 words. This is Stafford's final tournament POV, and the cliffhanger will be wrapped up by another character. Stafford's true identity is revealed. Thanks again to Vulcran for the suggestion, and you can thank him Stafford's lets say interesting action. This blurb has probably made this damn chapter even longer so I won't get between anyone and the writing. The recent review mentions will go on the next chapter. Thank you.
Enjoy
Stafford
Stafford fell down on the his bed, hard. He didn't know how Renly managed to get him to the Red Keep unnoticed by everyone, but he got it done. Stafford Baratheon didn't know how he and Renly managed to make it to the top four of the joust. First the magical herb that somehow made his horse go twice as fast as his full galloping pace. Sandor Clegane did not see that one coming, quite literally. The momentum of Stafford's horse allowed him to hit the much slower Sandor and send him to the ground. All though, that wasn't exactly the most honorable way to win, like Ser Barristan had always told him "The victory is where honor lies, not the way you achieve the victory". Stafford took those words to heart, and in everything he did, he thought that victory is something he always craved. Something in his heart always told him that if he set his sights on something, he would try his hardest to get it. If someone took something of his, he would do everything to get it back. And if he lost something or someone important to him, he would be unable to accept it. Today, he took the victory in the axe throwing, and moved on to the top four. Stafford also lost the archery competition in the worst fashion possible, a straight elimination from the competition. Stafford did not stand a chance against the competition there and he knew it. He could barely hit the broadside of a building. Stafford was also told by Ser Barristan, and Renly, "When you are outmatched, it is better to accept it and find a way to make up for it." He was never going to say he didn't get what he wanted, though. Stafford deep inside, knew that like almost of all of his family, Baratheon or Lannister; he shared one common trait with both of them. When he wanted something, he got it and he would do whatever it took to get what he believed he deserved. If he had one shot, one opportunity, he would rather capture than let it believed he need rest now, he would get the title he deserved tomorrow, Champion of the Joust. His uncle Jaime had won the melee when he was fifteen, and he aimed to be the first Jousting champion to win the damn thing at his age.
He had been hiding under the guise of a mystery knight for the entire first day of the Hand's tournament, after his axe throwing. From what Stafford had seen during the tournament, the hand wasn't even there to watch most of the jousting. He didn't care, he would show and prove his worth in the joust and the melee. He wasn't the best rider, but he wasn't afraid of anything. Plus, Renly found creative ways to offset his disadvantage in riding technique with something. He got past Jason Mallister, Meryn Trant, and even Sandor Clegane, even though he was technically inferior to all of them in a joust. He just had some advantages with his technique, which was risky, but he had to do everything to achieve victory, and every split second of aim in a joust was crucial to him.
He thought about the Joust more as he lay on his bed, in simple clothing, to make it look like he had spent the entire day in the castle sick. He had tied a sick rag to his head to hide some of the bruising he had experienced during the joust, especially against Jason Mallister. He also made sure that the simple clothes he wore hid the bruises on his chest, to avoid being found out by everyone. He lay there hoping to the Seven that no one saw, or even guessed, who the mystery knight was. If someone did, his chances of competing in the Jousting finals would be very slim to none, much less the melee. He had to hide his identity for as long as possible, he couldn't reveal it just yet. Just win the joust and maybe if he was forced to reveal himself, as was customary with mystery knights, he would at least get a victory under his belt.
He remembered Renly saying, "If you get unhorsed just try not to get your helmet knocked off, because I registered you in the melee, and I'm not about to lose income because of you." Renly had decided to bet for Stafford or him as a mystery knight, and all his upset victories had earned him a small fortune. After the Sandor Clegane match where almost no one thought that the mystery knight, which happened to be Stafford, would unhorse him, he saw Renly collecting bet money. Almost an entire line, including Lord Baelish, had to pay him quite the sum of dragons. Tomorrow, Renly was looking to gain more income, as he would be either matched with three almost legendary calibre opponents. He could get matched up with his own, Uncle, which people referred to as the Kingslayer. Jamie Lannister was a much stronger rider than himself, almost no match between the two. Since, Renly had exhausted the speed herbs, he hoped not to draw him. Ser Gregor Clegane could be another potential opponent. He was known as the mountain, and Stafford Baratheon knew he would be a hard opponent to draw. Ser Loras Tyrell, was the opponent he would prefer to go up against. Ser Loras was skilled, and unhorsed his uncle once. However, he was about his age at about nineteen, only about four years, more precisely three years and ten months his senior. He also had thought his style of jousting was a bad way to combat his own preferring technique over raw momentum.
While lost in thought, Stafford heard a knock on the door. He wondered who it was it was pretty late night. Everyone was tired, and most likely drunk after the tournament festivities. Stafford didn't drink anything, but water was not even close to his favorite drink.
"Who knocks at this hour?" Stafford asked whoever knocked on the door.
"Stafford, we need to talk," the voice responded. Stafford recognized the voice. It was clearly his mother. Stafford didn't seem all that surprised by this, she sometimes visited this late at night. Stafford managed to get off the bed, which took a lot of willpower in itself. Stafford did not feel like himself anymore after the grueling first day of jousting. He opened the door and saw his mother standing outside the doorway.
"Mother, come inside I guess," Stafford stated as he let his mother inside the room. She had a look of concern on her. Stafford closed the door after she came inside and made sure to relock the door.
"How are you feeling? I didn't see you at the tournament all day today. You usually love tournaments," his mother told him. I was at the tournament, except I had to wear a god damned helmet to disguise myself. Stafford wanted to say that, but he felt it would compromise his chances at even just competing at the grandest stage of them all, a grand final joust. First, he had to beat his first opponent tomorrow to guarantee his spot in the finals.
"I wasn't feeling all that well, must have been the water I drank after the competitions have ended," Stafford suggested although deep inside Stafford knew his reasons were lies.
"Robert had been talking about you all tournament long, especially after we all had to witness a mystery knight unhorse multiple skilled opponents," his mother stated, "While checking on your health was one of the reasons I came here, but not really the main reason I came here." Stafford, a little nervous now sat down on his bed. His mother sat right beside him.
"What is the reason then?" Stafford asked very shakingly.
"While the feast after most of the jousts had finished, your brother has been especially concerned about your relationship with his betrothed," his mother told him. Stafford let out a sigh of relief. It seemed it wasn't about the damned mystery knight, but Joffrey's incessant paranoia that Sansa was apparently having inappropriate relationships with him.
"Joffrey has been literally proclaiming this for months now. Considering he doesn't spend much time with her, it would be quite easy for him to get that idea. The truth is I have no interest in that. I have better things to worry about like then jo-bs I have to do in training," Stafford stated almost defensively. Joffrey seemed to think that Sansa seemed to 'enjoying the company of him' behind his back, and Stafford thought that was ludicrous. In his eyes he seemed like he was too young to fall in love, sure he may have had a few let's say romantic encounters in the past, but none of that ever equated to love at all. Joffrey Baratheon just seemed to think, Stafford was out to get everything he had possessed and seemed to look at whatever Stafford did as a threat to his cause. To often, that was the case, as most of the things Stafford did were morally and clearly the opposite of what his brother had done or planned to do.
"Stafford, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything here. I'm here to find out why you and Joffrey to never get along. We're meant to be family not enemies. And whatever isn't our family should be our enemies," his mother told him. His mother had always repeated this line to him many times. Anyone one, who isn't us was against us. Stafford understood what made his mother feel this way. And frankly he sort of agreed with her. The kingdom was filled with many families, and most of them were willing to use deception, lies and whatever it took to control the kingdom. Trusting too much in another, that is not your kin would be a folly. Stafford understood this, but when his kin would hate and disrespect his very existence, it was hard to fully commit himself to that belief. Stafford go along with Arya and Sansa more than he did Joffrey, so that alone sort of proved his mother's thinking wrong. But something in him told him it was true too, just look at Renly and Stannis. It seemed like they backed him in everything that he did. Stannis gave him a ship of his own, including a captain for the ship, which he never used known as the Eye of the Storm for his fifteenth birthday in Storm's End. Renly had helped him with his plans and shenanigans for as long as he could remember. Renly even proclaimed Stafford his undisputed heir to Storm's End, which he would inherit when he decided he was ready, which surprised everyone.
"Mother, my relations with Joffrey isn't that simple. Every time I try to get closer to him and form a bond with him, he pushes me away. He resents me more than father hates Targaryens if that's possible,"
"Don't say that I'm sure, he'll open up to you soon. You have to give him time," His mother stated. I've given him plenty of time, but he never seems to take any of the chances I've given him to mend our relationship.
"I've given him time. All he does is push the time back to my face with curses complete with it," Stafford replied.
"Then give him more time. By the gods, Stafford, you two are flesh and blood. You two are about as close as Robert is to Stannis," His mother remarked as she looked down to the ground.
"At least Uncle Stannis recognizes and even supports my father, no matter how twisted their relationship has become. He respects father and in turn father seems to respect him back. They certainly don't love each other by any means. I haven't heard both of them even mention their brother while they speak to me in a high regard, but at least the respect is there. Joffrey seems to hate me," Stafford explained.
"Then I'll talk to Joffrey in the same way as I did to you, tonight. I'll do whatever it takes to mend your relationship with him. I've grown tired of his complaining about you, and your constant conflicts with your own brother. But it's true I don't understand what it feels like to not have a close relationship with a sibling," His mother told him.
"It's not that mother. My other siblings, Tommen and Myrcella don't seem to hate me as much as Joffrey does. If you can help me with our relationship, it would be a welcome change to being at each other's throats almost every day," Stafford stated.
"I'm glad you understand Stafford," She suddenly paused after saying that and poked at a bruise in his chest. Stafford was so surprised at the pain he received from that he flinched backwards, "Where did you get that? You haven't sparred or practiced swordplay ever since the tournament started. As far as I recall, you weren't allowed in the training grounds." Stafford's uneasiness returned as soon as his mother brought it up. He should have been more careful not to show any of the bruises. It would arouse suspicion through everyone. He needed to think of something quick to try to explain the bruises.
"I didn't notice it. I must have hit something when I was trashing around in bed earlier," Stafford stated to try to explain the bruising. His mother felt his neck.
"You seem hot, do I need to send for the Maester for some poultice?" His mother stated.
"No, mother. I can handle it for the night. I'll just sweat the fever out," Stafford replied. Stafford was lucky that exhaustion mimicked the symptoms of a fever, or it would definitely have given him away a lot easier.
"You sure? Get some rest, I don't think you should got the tourney tomorrow. It's too bad, you would have enjoyed the mystery knight, though. I'm sure Robert will tell you a lot about him, though," his mother stated. She kissed him in the forehead and put him to bed. She left soon after closing the door behind her. Stafford felt like he was a child again, and Stafford felt himself being enshrouded in happiness for a split second. He would be even more happier when he won the tourney. And that would be a fact. At least his 'fever' would excuse him from the tournament. And he hoped that Pycelle wouldn't be called to keep watch over him or send him to the sickroom. That would definitely end his tournament hopes.
Getting out of the damned castle was harder than he had hoped to do. Apparently, his mother decided not to attend the second day of the joust, so she was watching Stafford's room closely. She would check on him almost every hour. However, his uncle Renly had his back on this one. Renly managed to convince her to let him go the tournament with him, and since she would not be at the tournament, Stafford would be able to be the mystery knight in the tournament. She would not keep a close eye on Stafford, even though she tried getting some guards and retainers to watch Stafford. Those guards and retainers were swiftly and cunningly bribed by Renly, which Stafford found very convenient.
After a relatively short introduction, the riders drew their lots and saw, who they were going to face in the tilt. Stafford adorned in his full mystery knight armor, which he found uncomfortable at best drew his opponent first for his first tilt. Stafford Baratheon drew an opponent he dreaded that he would draw. He drew the Kingslayer Jamie Lannister. Great this will certainly be hard to win.
Stafford sat on a bench with his helmet on in the preparation tent. As much discomfort the armor caused, Stafford clearly didn't like what nervous energy he felt within him. Stafford could feel like his belly would burst with both the anxiety and excitement, he felt about the damn jousting. He would joust and defeat the the damn people, who were set upon him. Most people would think that Stafford would need a miracle to win the joust in a fair fashion, but in reality it would take the second coming of the white walkers, who were a wet nurses' tale to scare children to have him win a fair joust with a skilled opponent as his uncle. That's why he had to resort to some let's say 'dishonorable tactics' to win his jousts with Sandor Clegane, Jason Mallister, but not so much Meryn Trant, he fell to him more easily than his other opponents, who did not make the Top Four, because of him. Renly quickly entered the tent after a few minutes of sitting with the other competitors.
"You ready?" Renly asked him with a bit of anxiety in his eyes as well. Stafford nodded and looked to his opponent Jamie, who was chatting with his squire about something. Stafford noticed his uncle maintained eye contact with him all throughout his chat with his squire, who was making his last adjustments to his gear. Stafford squire wasn't here at the moment. Yesterday he was, he made the 'return to the castle on horseback for him' and came back. Renly used the fact that the blacksmith's boy, who had helped Renly gather some high quality jousting and melee gear, looked like Stafford, so most people if you don't look up close would think it was Stafford riding away and not Gendry. Gendry came back to help them, but no one really noticed his existence. In fact, when Arya had wandered into the damn tent, Gendry was getting them more refreshments, so he was hardly noticed by anyone except the guards. But this time, he seemed to be actually not present.
"Good, where the hell is the boy when we need him most. He'll need to adjust your armor before the joust with the Kingslayer. The seven knows you'll need to be in your best condition for that damned joust," Renly stated. His uncle seemed to have heard this, and after the squire was finished making the final adjustments to his armor, he walked over to them.
"Having trouble find your squire? There have been so many wandering about that its hard to figure out where most of them are eh?" Jamie stated as he faced Stafford. Stafford couldn't say anything back to him. Although, the damned helmet distorted his voice pretty well, that no one could really recognize what was behind the tin man hat, he would not risk revealing his identity right before one of the biggest jousts in his life. Stafford had to win the joust in order to accomplish his goal of winning both the joust and the melee. The melee was the final event in the tournament. The preliminaries would be the same day as the jousting finals to make the show last longer. There would be plenty to watch it. But right now all the thoughts Stafford had in his mind focused on the joust.
"Why don't you go over to your squire and we'll just talk after he knocks you off your horse," Renly viciously tried to retort.
"You need to settle down, Renly. Are you the knight's mouthpiece? Can he not speak for himself?" His uncle asked jokingly, "I'll see you out on the tilts shortly. I wish you the best of luck out there, you are definitely going to need it against me."
Stafford grunted and it could be heard from behind his helmet. We shall see, who comes out victorious on this day uncle we shall see.
Before Stafford knew it, he was in the lists against his own uncle against him. He took up his position. He didn't have a visor, because his helmet was designed to conceal his identity. Therefore there was only a straight slit, the allowed him to see, but no one could see what his eyes looked like. He didn't know what Tobho Mott did to make such high quality armor for him, but it sure was appreciated from Stafford. He sure didn't want to be seen by anyone or even recognized for that matter. That was a what a mystery knight did, conceal, and Stafford sure seemed to be good at it, even though he never thought he would be.
"A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer," Lord Baelish announced loudly as Jaime Lannister entered the lists, riding an elegant blood bay destrier. The horse wore a blanket of gilded ringmail, and Jaime glittered from head to heel. Even his lance was fashioned from the golden wood of the Summer Isles.
"Done," Lord Renly shouted back. "I have full faith in the knight by my side right now."
"That's not the only thing you like about the knight by your side. I'm sure he has plenty of full things under that armor for you Renly," Lord Baelish called dryly. Lord Baelish, would probably regret that comment if he knew, who was really underneath the damn disguise.
Ser Jaime tossed a kiss to some woman in the commons, gently lowered his visor, and rode to the end of the lists. Both riders couched their lances. The hastily erected gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. Stafford kept himself leaned forward, and tried his hardest to make the impact on his uncle when they were about to meet. He kept his eyes trained on him, and didn't look away, like he always had, but his uncle shifted his seat deftly in the instant before impact. Stafford's point was turned harmlessly against the golden shield with the lion blazon, while his own hit square. Wood shattered, and the Stafford reeled, fighting to keep his seat. Stafford was hit squarely in the face. He was already down 4-0 during the first tilt. He had three tilts to make up for such a large lead. A thunderous cheer went up from the commons.
"I wonder how I ought spend your money," Lord Baelish called down to Renly. Renly remained silent as Stafford came back for the second pass. As soon as Renly got within distance, he told Stafford something.
"You're doing fine, just stay on your horse. I've got a risky plan for the damn third tilt, if you still haven't scored anything," Renly stated.
Stafford's second pass with uncle went worse, he hit him square in the center of his abdomen causing a six point move, meaning the score was 10-0. Stafford would have to unhorse his uncle to beat him in this tilt. His tournament was now hanging in the balance. He returned to his corner where finally, Gendry had arrived with something.
"About time you got it, give it to him," Renly stated. The lance looked like the fisted lance he had against Lord Jason Mallister. His uncle tossed down his broken lance and snatched up a fresh one, jesting with his squire, "He is shifting his seat Stafford, shift with him and especially with this lance, you'll win. I can guarantee that," he stated almost softly. Stafford didn't know about how certain his victory was, but he surely thought he had a better chance in this once then he had been given. But he had no choice, so he would implement his uncle's strategy.
Stafford spurred forward at a hard gallop. His uncle rode to meet him. This time, when Jaime shifted his seat, Stafford Baratheon shifted with him. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a riderless blood bay was trotting off in search of grass while Ser Jaime Lannister rolled in the dirt, golden and dented.
"A pity the Imp is not here with us," Lord Renly called out. "I should have won twice as much." His uncle was back on his feet, but his ornate lion helmet had been twisted around and dented in his fall, and now he could not get it off. The commons were hooting and pointing, the lords and ladies were trying to stifle their chuckles, and failing, and over it all Ned could hear Robert Baratheon laughing, louder than anyone. Now they had to lead his uncle off the field. Stafford as ecstatic that he had somehow managed to unhorse his uncle and move on, rode his horse back and went into the preparation tent.
However, right before the joust that would decide, who he would face, went out of the preparation tent and watched from behind Loras Tyrell's side of the tilts. Stafford needed to see, who he would face. Today, was different though, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Sansa. He's already been in plenty of trouble for spending time with her, but she stood there with her father today. Arya wasn't there at all today, which surprised Stafford. But she just stood there, and she looked exceptionally beautiful. Her eyes just seemed to sparkle and her hair seemed to flow ever so gracefully. Stafford Baratheon looked towards the damned joust, that was the thing he should focus on, not Sansa. However, she whispered something to her father and her father said something back. Stafford wondered what that was, he honestly couldn't tell what they were saying.
The Knight of Flowers saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. Ser Gregor brought his animal to the line, fighting with the reins. And suddenly it began. The Mountain's stallion broke in a hard gallop, plunging forward wildly, while the mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk. Ser Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just there, and in an eye blink the Mountain was failing. He was so huge that he took his horse down with him in a tangle of steel and flesh.
That was unexpected, Stafford straightened himself up. Stafford Baratheon, went back inside tent, but when the mountain got up from his predicament of getting unhorsed. Stafford knew that Loras had to have done something to unhorse the mountain that quickly, then again he did the same exact thing to the hound.
"My sword," he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. By then his stallion was back on its feet as well. Gregor Clegane killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it half severed the animal's neck. Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. By then Gregor was striding down the lists toward Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist.
Ser Gregor swung his sword, a savage two-handed blow that took the boy in the chest and knocked him from the saddle. The courser dashed away in panic as Ser Loras lay stunned in the dirt. But as Gregor lifted his sword for the killing blow, a rasping voice warned, "Leave him be," and a steel-clad hand wrenched him away from the boy.
Then in an instant there was a melee between the two brothers. Stafford signaled Gendry, who knew what it meant right away. Gendry threw him his pole axe, this one was sharpened and could definitely do some damaged. He intercepted the two with parries, and this made Gregor particularly mad.
"You dare oppose me?" Gregor asked. Stafford was knocked to the ground after he was swept with a great sword, and he managed to pull his helmet down so it didn't come off him.
"STOP THIS MADNESS," he boomed, "IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING" Ser Gregor almost delivered a crushing blow to grounded Stafford's head, but he stopped and regained his senses.
"We still have one final joust, Ser Loras are you able to compete?" The king asked.
"Of course," He stated brushing off, "Thanks for your help though Ser knight. Wish you the best of luck in our joust. Thanks for the help as well, Ser Sandor Clegane,"
"I am no knight," Sandor stated and he retreated back to the pavilion. Stafford got back up and went back to the preparation tent to get ready for the next joust.
The finals were set and as soon as the lists were ready again, the two faced each other in the middle. Renly was still right in Stafford's side of the jousting ready to root his nephew to a victory. Renly seemed to be having mixed feelings about rooting against Ser Loras Tyrell, however, but Stafford attributed that to their history and friendship. They were thick as thieves. Stafford got back to his corner and stared at his opponent. The mare hardly influenced his warhorse Orys, who seemed focus on the victory. It seemed it might help Orys too, because Orys seemed to have a renewed vigor in him. Stafford drew speed and confronted Loras Tyrell. The two collided each other like two different rocks in colliding after being launched by a catapult. Stafford Baratheon landed a hit square on his shield, even with the excellent square shield hit from Loras. The score was now 7-7, one of the highest scoring first tilts in the jousts so far in the tourney.
The next pass was even more equivalent. Stafford moved up and hit him in the abdomen, which was returned by Loras, evening up the score to 13-13. This scoring system really got the scores high up there. 1 point for at least hitting the opponent, 2 points for breaking a lance, 3 points for a non grazing hit to shield, 4 for a hit to the head, 5-6 points for abdomen hits depending on where it hits, and of course the square shield hit for 7 points.
The back and forth match up ended up in the seventh pass, which meant that two after the third and what was supposed to be final pass, they had four more. The score was high 31-31. Stafford drained of all energy calmed his horse down. Alright Orys, let's do this, one more shot, one more opportunity. Let's end this right now.
Stafford gestured Gendry for his finishing jousting lance, he now called it the Fister. The fister had definitely put several men to the fist and onto the ground today.
"Oh the mystery knights going to finish this one off. That lance tells it all!" King Robert boomed for everyone to hear.
"It certainly finished me Robert," He heard his uncle say snidely and almost with a hint of rage in his voice.
Sure, they were different as the multiple versions of the Fister had splintered, but this one will not. He knew in his heart that this one was opportunity. Something he will not get back if he waited for it come back to him. He grasped the Fister in his hands, and charged onto the jousting field one more time. He lowered his lance with Ser Loras Tyrell, but this time, he decided to take a page from his uncle's book of jousting. He shifted himself at the last instant, where Loras looked away and he aimed for the center of his shield. He hit, and Loras struggled to stay on, but stay he did on his saddle. Stafford let out a sigh of relief, and suddenly excitement bubbled in his veins.
"The winner of the joust! Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you, the Enigma of the tourney of the hand, the Knight of Castamere and The Last Black Lion!" an announcer in the from next to the king stated. The stands erupted in cheers. Noble and commoner arose to their feet and hailed their champion. As he smiled beneath his heavy close helmet, he could see the mail-clad bastard of Dorne standing and clapping vigorously beside Margaery Tyrell, smiling with one raised brow and laughing as Odyn Sand whispered something in her ear. Stafford raised his unbroken lance in triumph. He would remember this day for the rest of his life. He had claimed victory when no one else thought he could. Ser Loras met him in center ceremoniously to concede, because he had not been unhorsed, but lost by points.
"Good joust, and well earned victory champion!" Ser Loras told him. Stafford nodded and faced the king, who would reward him with his purse.
"You have done well, but as is customary with mystery knights, who win the championship. Show us, knight. Shout at us and reveal yourself. Let us taste your true identity," Ser Barristan stated for the king.
"Umm...maybe we can have an exception for this," Renly stated to try to get Stafford from unmasking.
"I'm afraid he can't accept his victory in that way. He must show himself," Ser Barristan stated.
"Don't worry, uncle. I'll do as they say," Stafford said without thinking about what he just said from his excitement. Everyone fell silent, including Robert, who was now wide eyed.
"Wait what? D-did he just call you uncle, Renly?" Robert asked quite loudly. Tommen, Joffrey and Myrcella were now wide eyed. Everyone in the crowd knew the only people in court, who had an uncle that was Renly was either Edric Storm, who wasn't there, or Stafford, who was the closest person to the tournament. Stafford dropped off his helm and it clanked on the ground. He smiled as everyone either fought for their breath, or for some fainted.
"Stafford? What in the seven hells?" His father stated.
"Surprised to see me father? When you didn't allow me to compete, Renly and I had to turn to let say drastic measures," Stafford declared matter of factly.
"Remind of you someone, Robert?" Lord Eddard stated with Sansa, who also seemed to be shocked at revelation. His father laughed like thunder.
"Stafford, well. You get the purse as the champion of the tournament. As well as this honor, Lancel present him with the wreath," Ser Barristan stated as Lancel Lannister, one of the people he sometimes spars with shuffled down from the stands of the king to grant him a wreath, "You are now allowed to name the queen of love and beauty as with most major tournament jousting champions." Stafford startled at this stared at the wreath in his hand and looked around. The noblewoman about his age suddenly began to shuffle in their seats, stand up or just stare at Stafford if they were in range. Stafford looked around. He knew of many he could give it to, but he wasn't expecting the decision would be this hard. If Arya were at this damned tournament, it would be easy, just give it to her, and Stafford would have been fine. However, she wasn't here so this presented itself with a predicament.
Stafford looked over to where Ser Loras now stood still on his horse. There was Lady Margaery Tyrell, a good friend who Stafford had known for a while, especially in Highgarden. Stafford thought her beauty was undeniable but something told him that presenting her with the wreath was not agreeable to him. Or more specifically, the helmed Dornishman Odyn Sand who stood sat beside looked over to Miranda Royce next, Stafford known her for a while, but they didn't really talk much after what happened during his fifteenth birthday. No one was ready for that. Then, he looked at a few other highborn women from the Vale, and even the Stormlands. Then, he caught a glimpse of Sansa, who seemed to be staring at him right now. Probably surprised that he even made a surprise appearance as the mystery knight. Stafford began to approach her, with the wreath in hand. Stafford knew this might be the wrong option, but he just couldn't ignore her on this day. She deserved to be recognized for something.
"I dedicate this victory to you, crown jewel of the North. And though I do not have the privilege of being betrothed to you like my dear brother has, just know that you are truly the queen of love and beauty throughout the entire Seven Kingdoms and beyond," Stafford stated as he reached out his hand with wreath of flowers in his hands. Then Stafford noticed one thing about the flowers, as Sansa took the flowers with an unreadable expression on her face. They weren't just normal flowers, they were blue winter roses, pale blue with the color of frost.