The Tourney at Harrenhal: Early Days

[Jokern]

...

"Ha ha ha, there's no dishonor in being bested once or twice, my lord! There's always a next time in tourneys, and I don't doubt Ser Barristan will have a harder time against you today."

Swann looked over at the Stark banners that Robert pointed at. Lyanna Stark, a beautiful young lady the rumors told, others called her the She-Wolf with a will to match her brother Brandon's. It was no surprise that the young Baratheon had fallen for such a woman. Leyton nodded to his liege.

"Then I shall keep you no longer, my lord, it was good to see you after so long. Go and catch your beloved now, no point in letting a young lady wait for to long. I'll see you tonight then, my lord, and may the gods give you their favor in the tourney."

Once Robert Baratheon had left, Leyton Swann turned to Desmond Baratheon, the castellan of Storm's End.

"How have you been, Ser Desmond, Lady Alyssa? It is good to see you as well. Any favorites for the tourney, besides the young lord?"

...

Rhaegar's expression went sour at the mention of his father, but quickly came back to the warm smile he had had before.

"I do not care what they think, so long as you and our child is safe. How could I live knowing that you were in danger? But I shall trust your judgement, as you know yourself best. There is a dragon inside you, and it will bring forth a fire to give you strength, I'm sure of it."

It was as if he could feel it himself, the burning flame that raged inside his wife's womb. Could it be the prince that was promised, as the ancient books had said? For long he had believed himself to be the one, but now he felt a dragon greater than any other would rise above him, to surmount him and be the chosen one. He would have to go over the books once more when he was back on Dragonstone, perhaps even make a trip south to consult the maesters' scrolls at the Citadel. So much to do, so little time. For now, he merely smiled at Elia's concern.

"My darling sun, there is no need to worry about me, but I shall carry your favor and bring luck to my lance and shield. I promise I will be careful, but the Grand Maester will see to me if I were to fall. It will be up to the gods to crown a champion, but I feel confident that this day will be mine."

Rhaegar turned to his wife's siblings, the Martells.

"My lords, I hope you have all fared well. It gives me relief to see that my wife is in good hands today while I ride on the grounds."

[Lord Dread]

Elia smiled, while hoping the best for her husband.
"It will surely be your day", she replied confident, "Whatever will happen, you'll have my blessings. May the Seven see it in the same way, as I do."
Her joy remained, while Rhaegar decided to talk with her brothers. One different than the other, while all being blessed with the power of the sun, the blood of Mors Martell and the temperament of Nymeria.
Unlike me they make a better figure on court, she mused, while just briefly listening to the conversation, her mind being again with the children and Rhaegar's words, I can only hope he is right.

-----------------------------

Far from the distance the banners of House Mallister appeared, as they finally arrived a bit late, but nontheless confident at Harrenhall.
Being delayed by the wagon, whom the majority of Mallister's knights guarded, both Lord Jason Mallister and his second-born brother Ser Jeffory Mallister rode along the tournament grounds, as they searched for the banners of their overlords. While preparations for the joust were still ongoing, the younger Mallister kept an eye out for Brandon Stark, whom the knight respected as a good man. So far he didn't saw him, but eventually the eldest son of House Stark would probably talk with him, if there were friendly matters to discuss.
Lord Jason remained nearby the wagon though, as he had brought his youngest brother, the young, crippled Gerald, along this journey. Patiently the Lord waited, till Gerald was able to walk with a crutch, still griefing that his youngest brother was punished by the Seven with not only the inability to move, but as well with an incompetent Maester, who probably made his life more suffering than it had to be.
Sadly the past can't be changed.

Wordless, while nontheless confident, the Mallister party would soon arrive by the Tullys, their rightful overlords.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Tywin took the report that certainly contained nothing but additional bad news. He read it quickly and glanced up. "We may as well let Cankles (the fool of Casterly Rock) sit in court." Tywin said through clenched teeth. "They are either following a policy that my father would approve of, or else behaving arbitrarily. All of it is poor ruling from two lackwits who pretend at lordship." He crumpled up the paper and cast it aside. "I will send a raven to Kevan, give him some instructions." Kevan was always much more dependable than any of his other brothers.

THe Reyne and Tarbeck affair had been necessary to remind the ruling houses of the Westerlands to whom they owed fealty. It was Tywin's iron grasp that kept the peace through a sure and certain rule, but his duties in King's Landing often kept him away. "Are the revenues from the port still coming in uninterrupted?"

From what I have seen, the revenues have been steady. Only slight differences here and there, but they are minimal changes. I made sure Tybolt is the one who surveys the ports and not my brother Stafford.

For a long time now, Damon began to wonder if Stafford had been in line with Tygett and Gerion. There was no outright proof yet, but his younger brother did tend to act in a manner that would half the time obstruct his rule over Lannisport and favor Stafford more so. He glances around, noticing Tybolt was speaking with Donnel Lefford. The boy still had much to learn, but hopefully he could serve as Stafford's replacement if his brother screwed bad enough.

Lately though, Stafford has been relatively quiet... more so than usual. I haven't noticed any strange activity with him or the City Watch, but Tybolt has been keeping an eye on him for me.

Beric hadn't heard the last part, too busy sipping some wine he had snatched from a table. He floated along the corridor beside her keeping a respectful distance. "Oh it's not Ser Beric. I've yet to be knighted. My deeds aren't heroic enough. What about you, have you found a suitor yet?"

My father is still speaking to some men. He seems to favor a marriage with Lord of Pinkmaiden's son.

Dana kept a brisk pace, glancing back every so often to see where Beric. Why was this man following her?

Donnel Lefford

"Come now, you are young and capable!" said Donnel teasingly, "How can you ever hope to impress a Lady by sitting in the stands? Surely you'd like more of a challenge than the petty thugs of Lannisport?"

This attitude was not in keeping with Tybolt's reputation. "The real commander of the watch" some said, "a worthy knight", "a second Damon" would say* others. Yet here he stood, disparaging his own abilities, acting the coward.

Tybolt was a more humble character than his other brothers. Each of his older brothers displayed outward personalities that desired to show off what they did best. He looks down at the listing for a moment.

Aye, I should use this opportunity to excel my chances for marriage, Ser Donnel. And unfortunately, the only thug I face every day is Stafford.

The Lannister leans down and begins to jot down his name for the tournament.

[Pontifex Maximus]

Tywin grunted, the faction of opportunists seemed to be growing. "Monitor them, Tygett may very well think that my wife's death and Aerys dissatisfaction is a sign I may not return to the Westerlands at all. I may have to entrust Jaime's safety to Kevan until I can pacify the King. Try to gauge the loyalties of the Watch. Gerion can be very persuasive and charismatic to men of that profession."

[Poach]

Ponti, I've posted looking for you too. My last post before this one, #40.

Donnel slapped Tybolt on the back in triumph. Whatever temporary weakness had clouded the Lannister's mind, it had seemingly been dispelled.

"Excellent!" he said jubilantly, "Maybe we'll meet in the bouts! So tell me, how is Lannisport and the Rock?"

Sent from my SM-A310F using Tapatalk

[Gandalfus]

You have some major competition, Garth. I hear that Lord Lannister has brought his son, Jaime, the youngest knight in the realm. The boy was knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne himself and saved Lord Crakehall from Big Belly Ben of the Kingswood Brotherhood. That boy has sure been catching a lot of eyes from what my ears have caught.

Mace glances around for a moment, remembering that he saw the Lannister banners not long ago, but couldn't tell where they were now.

Certainly though age has molded the Greysteel to be the ideal candidate. Youth has its benefits, but experience and skill surely outweighs that! Skills and experience that Garth has!

"Jaime Lannister is half a boy." Replied Leyton haughtily, feeling that the Lannister was much too young to be inducted into such esteemed company as the famed Kingsguard of Aerys. "And Lord Tywin would be robbed of his golden heir." It would be a foolish political move, he thought silently, to vastly annoy the most powerful man in the realm other than the King himself.

[Adamat]

"Ha ha ha, there's no dishonor in being bested once or twice, my lord! There's always a next time in tourneys, and I don't doubt Ser Barristan will have a harder time against you today."

Swann looked over at the Stark banners that Robert pointed at. Lyanna Stark, a beautiful young lady the rumors told, others called her the She-Wolf with a will to match her brother Brandon's. It was no surprise that the young Baratheon had fallen for such a woman. Leyton nodded to his liege.

"Then I shall keep you no longer, my lord, it was good to see you after so long. Go and catch your beloved now, no point in letting a young lady wait for to long. I'll see you tonight then, my lord, and may the gods give you their favor in the tourney."

Once Robert Baratheon had left, Leyton Swann turned to Desmond Baratheon, the castellan of Storm's End.

"How have you been, Ser Desmond, Lady Alyssa? It is good to see you as well. Any favorites for the tourney, besides the young lord?"

"Lord Swann," Desmond respectfully greeted his superior. "The Swann banner is beautiful," Alyssa said, before receiving a piercing stare from Desmond. "I mean, it is good to see one of my family's leal vassals," she recouped. "I am rooting for the most handsome knight of all, but my uncle won't let me twenty feet from the pavilion," she sourly said.

Red flags streaked with blue emerge over the horizon from the north-westerly direction of Riverrun, announcing the arrival of the Whents' overlord the Tullys. At the head of the ceremonial column rode Hoster Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and master of Riverrun, came dressed in splendid red robes beneath a dark blue cloak, fastened with a silver brooch shaped like a fish. His own suit of armor, all silvered steel scales and a helm with a fish-shaped crest, was in the care of squires who rode close behind him. His teenage daughters Catelyn and Lysa were also in attendance, garbed in resplendent dark and light blues respectively: the former was betrothed to the eldest son of House Stark, who was expected to still be with his family's own party, and the latter kept herself awfully close to their father's ward Stannis Baratheon, who (as a Baratheon) alone stood out among the Tully party as the only soul to not wear their house colors of blue and/or red and whose elder brother Robert Hoster expected to come along with the Arryns he was fostering with.

Stannis was one of the last to dismount, after standing up in his stirrups. "I see my brother has set up camp already," he noted. "Lord Hoster, I should greet my uncle and sister. After that, I've half a mind to return here and continue the discussion we had on the road," he spoke. Stannis wasn't one to miss his home, or his boarish brother, but hadn't seen his sister since the accident with his parents. He wondered what she'd grown up to be like, being almost a grown woman by now.

Upon arriving alongside the Arryn host, Ned quickly and quietly made his way toward his families banners, which were displayed prominently on the outskirts of the tourney grounds. Not being the heir to Winterfell allowed Eddard to move unencumbered through the crowd, few wished to speak with a second son, fewer outside the North and the Vale. Benjen. Ned voiced with a smile. Ned! Benjen shriked, rushing forward to hug his elder brother. Lyanna smiled from a distance. It's been a long time big brother.. and you look almost half a man now. Ned shook his head. Far too long sister, and you've certainly grown into a beautiful woman in my abscene. They shared a smile, but only for a brief moment. Robert should be amongst the Baratheon host by now. Ned commented, not knowing what she thought of Jon's other ward. I only have to marry him if he can find me. She rebuked. No, you only have to marry him if father finds you. Benjen laughed, and even Lyanna couldn't help but giggle. Speaking of.. where are father and Brandon, and little Alys? The usual. Brandon's off fighting someone, and father's off drinking - Alys fell ill, she's resting at home with Theon. The three began talking and reminiscing,Ned respected Jon and he loved Robert as a brother.. but he always missed, the North, Winterfell, his family.

As Robert approached the Stark camp, he was quick to make his presence known. "Lyanna, my dearest!" his voice boomed through the camp. "Oh, how I've longed to see you again!"

[Xion]

"The pavillion is set up, Ravella. Shall we make our way to the prince's pavillion?" Ulrick says to his wife as he approaches her and her retinue watching one of the smaller tournaments, with the knights cheering when a knight of Wyl defeats a Dondarrion man in their match. "If he is here, you can go meet with the Prince of Dorne. I have other matters to attend to." "Nor do we wish to risk seeing the murderer."Ulrick nods. "Very well, my ladies." Ulrick then bows and makes his way towards the pavillions to seek out the Martell pavillions to request a meeting with the prince.

[Pontifex Maximus]

Harmund Lefford
Ser Tywin had become visible, making his way across one of the many great courtyards in Harrenhal: he'd clearly freed himself from the minor nobles.

"Ser Tywin!" said Harmund as the two noblemen approached the Hand, "How is life in the Red Keep treating you?"

"My duties keep me busy." Tywin answered evasively. "Come to participate in the tourney then?"

[Poach]

"My son and his grandsons, Ser." said Harmund, noting the terse response. Rumours had been circulating already of the troubles at court, Harmund wondered how bad it truly was but was unlikely to hear it from Tywin.

"I have sighted some of your own here already, of the Lannisport branch. Will your son be competing? Many speak highly of his skill at arms."

[Pontifex Maximus]

Tywin inclined his head in greeting "Well met, Leffords." With the proud tone of a father he replied to them "Yes, Jaime will indeed. This will be his first real tilt, we will have to see how he fares. Though he has had the finest training available and appears to have no small amount of natural talent. I was ever only an average swordsman myself."

[Poach]

"Nor was I, in my day." conceded Harmund with a chuckle, "Always better at the books and at keeping the estates going. Even at Jaime's age I was only ever average, luckily for me our wing of the army faced second rate Essosi sellswords at Wendwater Bridge and not the Golden Company itself."

[Pontifex Maximus]

"I've always preferred to command than to lead when it comes to large engagements. Besides, men will not be inspired by their martial inferiors." Tywin added, always mixing in elements of practicality so as not to appear craven

[Poach]

"It is important to-" began Harmund, before trumpets blared and an announcer yelled that King Aerys II Targaryen would be taking to the Royal Box to "officially open the Tourney, declare the first night's feast, and make make other proclamations." None knew of other intended announcements, ensuring a crowd quickly began making its way into the stands and tourney grounds, all eyes facing the Royal Box.

Aerys summoned his Kingsguard, launching into a rant once more about traitors and not being among friends, and for them to be all the more vigilant now that he was walking among the nobility: any one could strike out at him, there was no way of knowing who the plotters were.

Warily eyeing the crowd from his box once it was reached, he raised his arms for quiet.

"The Tourney for the celebration of Lord Whent's daughter's nameday shall open!" he called, to a cheer, "and our host has graciously prepared a lavish feast for all to enjoy in the great halls of Harrenhal!" ...and I shall have my personal taster on hand at all times... "and, for my final act, I would name a new Kingsguard."

The crowd fell silent. No one knew who, some murmured rumours, guesses, or wagers to one another. Aerys' gaze found Tywin in the crowd, and a wolfish grin spread across his face as the two made eye contact.

"I name Ser Jaime Lannister to the White Cloak!" he shouted, raising his arms in triumph. There was a mixture of cheering and applause as Jaime made his way through a crowd that was patting his shoulders and back as he went, moving towards Ser Gerold Hightower, who was ready with the cloak.

[OOC: Ponti will be busy tomorrow so I'm doing this today. Players can continue their ongoing RP or move to the feast itself.]

[Gandalfus]

Gerold remained statuesque, a tower of brilliant white that gazed rather stoically at the approaching Ser Jaime. Lannister was far too young and far too bold, for his liking; The White Bull felt his own sorely disappointed great-nephew would have been a more sensible candidate. But nonetheless, he was the executor of the King's will, standing motionless as the Young Lion knelt before him. Aloud did Gerold administer the oath; the mantra that was as familiar to him as the beating of his heart. Serve the King. Obey the King. Protect the King. It was the words that guided those who wore the White, the words that defined them. Gerold almost did not hear Lannister repeat the words, his mind wandering elsewhere as he fixed the cloth around the shoulders of the newest sworn brother.

"Rise, Ser Jaime, a knight of the Kingsguard." It was as if someone else uttered it, far from this cursed castle and the brain-addled king that he served. Aloof and near-unreadable was the wrinkled face of the Lord Commander, whose darkened brown eyes seemed to stare at a fixed point upon Lannister's forehead.

[Pontifex Maximus]

Tywin's face went white, and then red. He began to breathe short, sustained breaths through his nose, barely unable to contain his anger. Aerys had deprived him of his only heir, and with the death of his wife in childbirth, very likely the only one he would ever have. His emerald green eyes remained fixed on the ghastly old wretch that wore the crown. Still, he could say nothing. He was completely powerless to intervene in this greatest insult and threat to his prestige.

------------------------

Jaime wore his brightest smile as he made his way forward. The cheers of the crowd lifted his spirits, and he was full of youthful enthusiasm for his new post - seemingly ignorant of the consequences for now. He made his way before the King's box and stooped to one knee as the white cloak was pinned on his shoulders. "Your Grace, I am honored to be named. I shall serve you and your House faithfully."

[Pericles of Athens]

As Robert approached the Stark camp, he was quick to make his presence known. "Lyanna, my dearest!" his voice boomed through the camp. "Oh, how I've longed to see you again!"

The Stark family reunion was interrupted by Robert's familiar voice. Lyanna whispered to Ned frantically, as she heard the Baratheon approach. Cover for me and I'll slip out the back, ten feet to the stables and it's like I wasn't even here. Eddard chuckled, shaking his head lightly. Sorry sister, you're on your own this time. Lyanna turned red as she tried to think of a new plan..too little to late though, she was trapped. Upon catching Robert's eye she gave a beaming smile, pushing a lock of hair from her face. Ah, how are you my sweet? She began, she was good at putting on a mask - at pretending she was a humble lady-like creature. You should have warned me you were coming, I would have made myself more presentable. She added, though her beauty was unmatched her hair was wild from riding and underneath her dress she wore ridingbpants. Could have made myself more scarce.. she thought. Robert. Ned added curtly, almost as second nature.

----

Selmy stood silent as the grave, a shadow of whiteness. His blue eyes watched the crowd.. he hadn't been sure there was a conspiracy against Aerys, but the man's paranoia was infectious. Jaime being named to the guard was a surprise though, too young.. too untested. There was no way to know if he had the skills or moral compass to work beneath a white cloak. But this was the King's choice, and he'd defer to Aerys and the Lord Commander's opinions.

[Pontifex Maximus]

Lord Paxter Redwyne demured gracefully after hailing the King and made his way to the Hightower tents. He sought out Leyton and Garth Hightower for a spot of conversation and a proposal. He brought a rare vintage, a special cask of Arbor Gold with him.

[Gandalfus]

Gerold, when he was certain the focus of attention had shifted from himself to Lannister, flashed a sideways glance in the direction of Barristan. Though he still wore his characteristic grimace, Hightower felt that his sworn brother would know the Lord Commander well enough to understand the implication from such a slight nuance. Too young, too bold, too proud.

---

Leyton was inside the tent, doubtlessly resting (or merely wishing not to be seen) after the day's exertions and the disappointment of Garth being usurped by Ser Lannister, who was still half a boy. Ser Baelor spotted Lord Redwyne's approach, the handsome heir to Oldtown inclining slightly in courteous greeting.

"Well met, my lord Redwyne. It bodes ill to say that my father is too weary to entertain esteemed visitors such as yourself; I shall do what I can in his stead."

[Pontifex Maximus]

"Ah, ser Baelor. A shame he is indisposed, but more for us I suppose." He ordered the servants to drop, decork, and decant the wine into special goblets. The amber liquid bubbled into the silver cups and seemed to drink in and reflect the sunlight. "This is a truly special barrel, Baelor, vinted by our finest masters and uniquely balanced." He offered the man his glass and raised his own. "To the long and prosperous reign of the King." he proposed