Game of Thrones: A Feast for Crows [IC/Concluded]

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark swords

Axel had been standing around the corner of where his mount called "Beast" was located Axel gave the zorse that name due to it's instinct and behavior like a true beast of it's size. Axel then heard Rosethorn came over. "My Beast, would eat you and your tiny mistake of a horse for diner." Axel said jokingly. Axel forgot what the "offer" was. "Remind me after the joust what I was offering" he said as he went to his mount

Margery came over to him and Axel light up with joy. After they talked and as she left those last words "if you wish to do it again, well I certainly am!" Axel replied with "We shall do it again, My fair lady" Axel then started to head back to rose. Axel noticed Garlen Tyrell approached and decided to speak less as he was preparing for his Joust.

Axel decided to mount his horse and prepare as his joust would be soon. Axel was introduced as the "Black Wolf" while his opponent was "Ser Rowan" Axel could tell the crowd favored him. Axel didn't care must about the jousting customs so when both riders pass each other Axel let out a laugh. Soon both men were riding at each other with full force and Axel's lance hit Rowan's shield destroying it but also shattered his lance and shield. Axel could tell beast was angered by the impact but started to calm itself. Axel and Rowan went around for another go. Rowan had decided to not get a new shield and Axel knew that man was an stubborn fellow. Axel decided not to get a new lance and shield but to try to use what he has to his advantage. Both men against raced towards each other. Axel let out a giant war cry to try to scare the man and it did work as Rowan moved his shield far enough to the left that Axel hit him square in the chest causing the man to fall off his horse.

Axel dropped the shield and lance and headed back to the stable to put beast in a safe place. After that he headed to the Lannister girl Myrcella to taunt her a bit. "Ello Lion, How are you on this day" Axel said jokingly.

[The Independent Hazerls]

Lord Garlan Tyrell "The Gallant", Lord of Brightwater Keep
Highgarden, The Reach

"Ser Garlan Tyrell, 'The Gallant'!" screamed the harald as the second son of Lord Mace Tyrell rode out in shining, white armor. His lance was striped in the Tyrell colors, yellow and green, and his horse a deep-bay mare with strong legs. They knew each other, that man and that horse. They'd ridden into battle together so often, and whenever Garlan took part in a tourney she was his steed of choice. Wind of the Sea, they called her. And she truly was a wind...
On his chest was emblazoned his own personal sigil; two golden roses on the green shield. The roses were golden, and people always expected the opponent to shatter one. It never happened... Garlan was good.
At the other end, came out Ser Derron of Duskendale. "Ser Derron, The Rosethorn!" announced the herald, his voice starting to break after a full day of screaming out names and titles. The Rosethorn was clad in simple armor, and that made the Gallant admire him even further. Still, it could certainly help Garlan win the joust, as Derron was very lightly armored.
Everything was ready for the first try. Derron started at full speed, but Garlan remained calm and went down the track even, some would say, slowly. When the two were about to meet, though, he put on great speed and surprised his opponent. The Rosethorn's lance merely touched the side of Garlan's shield, splintering it, but Garlan's lance hit the other man's shield full on, near to destroying it.
As the two rode back to their starting places, Garlan changed his lance and shield. He noticed Derron keeping his shattered spear, and he knew why that was: in a previous round, he had observed the Hedge Knight use one of his tricks to win with a shattered weapon. The Tyrell man knew what to do... he brought his shield up to the right position at the right time, and placed his own lance at where the shoulder meets the neck on Derron's body, unhorsing him violently.
The 20 year old man flew straight off, landing heavily on his side, while Garlan remained on Wind of the Sea's back, a smile hidden behind his visor.
As soon as it was over, with the crowd cheering, Garlan got off to check on his opponent and friend. Rosethorn got back to his feet with no problems, and went to hug him, chuckling. "Ya beat me, damn you, ser. But well feckin' done."
Garlan was pleased this hadn't changed their relationship.

[Republic of South Vantaria]

Prince Trystane Nymeros Martell,
Heir to Sunspear

Highgarden, The Reach

Prince Trystane was more than excited for his first tourney, even though he half-expected it to not end in any great glory. His first opponent was a bastard from the Stormlands; Eddard Storm of the Scorched Shields, or Dark Swords... Trystane never remembered.
As they both stepped onto the tracks, the screeching voice of the herald could be heard. "Prince Trystane Martell, the Desert Scorpion. And... Eddard Storm, the Lighting Bolt." The crowd clapped politely, but the Dornish prince new they didn't care... this was a minor encounter, and they were waiting eagerly for men such as Garlan Tyrell and Axel Blacken to reach the field.
Lighting bolt; he must be quick then, reflected Prince Martell as he gazed at the man. He was small and muscled, with surprisingly fine armor for a sellsword bastard. Trystane had even better armor, forged by the Master Armorers of Sunspear. It's color rippled in the sun; changing from shades of red, to gold, and even to violet and white. His horse was pure white, the stallion Backymoreh. The large beast snorted and tossed his head, but Trystane knew how to control it.
And finally, it began. The two steeds charged violently towards each other, and both riders focused, praying for their lances to strike truly. And finally, there they were. Storm surprised Trystane at the very last second, lowering his spear to hit the Prince's groin. That made both of Trystane's arms jolt, and his spear merely touched the other man's shield. The boy of House Martell fell, gently enough, off his horse. Pain was all over him.
The mercenary jumped off his horse, and came running to Trystane's side. Certainly, he feared the wrath of the lordling, but Trystane knew the man had done what was asked of anyone in a tourney.
"Milord, are you hurt. Gods I am sorry, let me carry you to the maester's chamber."
"No thank you, ser. I am fine, and do not worry. You did nothing wrong." Said the Prince with a reassuring smile.

[The Forsworn Knights]

---

Princess Myrcella Baratheon. Princess of The Iron Throne and current heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Member of House Baratheon of King's Landing, daughter of King Robert 'The Usurper', and younger sister of King Tommen 'The Kind'.

---

In the stands watching the Tournament in Highgarden, The Reach.
Myrcella had been staring at Aegon as he waited for his turn in the tilt. Thus far she had cheered for no-one in general during the jousts, but she kept staring straight at Aegon, her eyes boring into the side of his helmet. She would carry on like this for a while, seemingly fascinated by the Dragon-King who sought to overthrow her brother. After a while a man would approach- the Northern Mercenary if she recalled correctly.
He would say 'Hello Lion. How are you on this day?', although it appeared that he was mocking her in an attempt to get a rise out of her. After thinking about her response for a few moments she would decide on the best way to safely irritate the man. She would respond as sweetly as possible in as much of a sarcastic tone as possible.
"Hello Ser Knight," she would begin sarcastically. "I am perfectly fine, although I must say- for an army of people whose biggest disagreement is whether to kill or imprison my eight year old brother after you launch a military coup against his government, you are a polite lot."

[Eraus]

(Image)

---

Princess Myrcella Baratheon. Princess of The Iron Throne and current heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Member of House Baratheon of King's Landing, daughter of King Robert 'The Usurper', and younger sister of King Tommen 'The Kind'.

---

In the stands watching the Tournament in Highgarden, The Reach.
Myrcella had been staring at Aegon as he waited for his turn in the tilt. Thus far she had cheered for no-one in general during the jousts, but she kept staring straight at Aegon, her eyes boring into the side of his helmet. She would carry on like this for a while, seemingly fascinated by the Dragon-King who sought to overthrow her brother. After a while a man would approach- the Northern Mercenary if she recalled correctly.
He would say 'Hello Lion. How are you on this day?', although it appeared that he was mocking her in an attempt to get a rise out of her. After thinking about her response for a few moments she would decide on the best way to safely irritate the man. She would respond as sweetly as possible in as much of a sarcastic tone as possible.
"Hello Ser Knight," she would begin sarcastically. "I am perfectly fine, although I must say- for an army of people whose biggest disagreement is whether to kill or imprison my eight year old brother after you launch a military coup against his government, you are a polite lot."

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark Swords

Axel smiled at her response "I am not a Ser nor a Knight and you sure make it seem like we are the bad people." Axel said with a smile as he sat down next to her. "Lady Lion, I do like you attitude. If you were less lady like I'd fall head over heels for you" Axel said jokingly. "I should introduce myself, I am Axel Eddard Blacken, Captain of the Dark Swords " Axel said with a charming smile "I know who you are..Lady Lion please rest assured I will only kill your brother if he takes his sword up against mine" He said slightly trying to reassure the girl but not be overtly friendly with a Lannister in public

[The Forsworn Knights]

---

Princess Myrcella Baratheon. Princess of The Iron Throne and current heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Member of House Baratheon of King's Landing, daughter of King Robert 'The Usurper', and younger sister of King Tommen 'The Kind'.

---

In the stands watching the Tournament in Highgarden, The Reach.
The Mercenary had identified himself as Axel Blacken, the leader of the Mercenary Company. He once again called her by the teasing nickname as he reassured her about her brother.
"You amuse me, Ser. How has your day been thus far?" She would say, using the title in a mocking tone. She would casually glance into the Tourney pit where Trystane had hurt himself in the groin. She would look on as he was carried away to the Maester before she turned back to Axel.
"Well then, that looks like it was painful for the Prince."

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark Swords

Axel start to fix his hair and place it in a bun it was easier since the right side of his head was shaved off. "Eh, The Martell boy should be fine. M'lady my day has been wonderful, I de-horsed Ser Rowan and I can't wait till we get to the melee portion of the tourney. It shall be entertaining" Axel said with a smile. "So Lioness, What do you like?" Axel said trying to have small talk. He also started to remove his chestpiece. Axel saw some people stare at him for talking to her but he didn't want to be mean to the poor girl "she may be a lion but she seems kind" he thought. He also didn't want to leave her by herself since he thought most people wouldn't talk to the girl.

[Danceria]

Ser Derren "Rosethorn" of Duskendale, Hedge Knight and Heir of House Darkwood
Highgarden, the Reach
The Chamber of Healing

---

"I told ye, I'm fi-OW!" Derron hissed as the boiling alcohol cleaned out any infection in the recently gained wound. "All right, all right, I'm not fine, are ye happy? Just patch me up so I'm ready when th' mel-AY" the Maester lifted his arm up and placed a sponge with a mixture of Milk of the Poppy and more alcohol. "Th' Melee, Maester. I'd like to be alive by tha' time."

"While this is a glancing blow, it has broken a few bones around your shoulder. The main worry of infection's taken care of..." the Maester presented him with a cup of the same substance (Milk of the Poppy and strong wine), to which the knight declined "I've lived through worse Maesters, no offence to yer order, but I'd like not ta' be swooning like a drunkard after one cup." The Maester sighed and unbound the great leather strap he kept nearby, and folded it up and placed it in front of his face. "You might want to bite down on this then..."

---

The Stands of the Tourneygrounds
After much stitching and light applications of white-tipped hot-irons the process of "Scabbing" had begun. To help his shoulder-blade heal, a specially designed strap held his left arm in a perpetual shrug, which also kept the salve of herbs and poppy's milk in place to numb the pain and halt infection. Two weeks later, he would pop back into the Maester's chamber, where another sterilized knife would remove the stitches and allow his sling more mobility. However, as the Maester joked, he would be ready by the melee, as his arm would be stuck in the defending position.

In the meantime, Derron would have to be satisfied with using his lower arm and fingers slightly slower than he'd like to. Walking back over to the stands to watch the rest of the tourney (no need to be a poor sport about it, Garlan knocked him down right proper, and the man was going to be cheered on), he found Axel Blacken and young Lady Mrycella. Before entering the conversation, he found himself a rose and entered with a smile. "Milady, Axel. A pleasant surprise to see you both, you especially." the Knight of Thorns smiled at the young fair haired maiden.

[The Valyria Empire]

---

His Lord Paramount, Jon "Snow", of House Stark, Lord Paramount of the North and Lord of Winterfell

---

About midday, Jon and his army finally reached Castle Blacken. While the majority of the Wildlings remained at the outskirts of Blacken land Jon, Tormund, Val, and Edd rode to the gates of Castle Blacken.

Once they approached the gate, Jon noticed the guards were alarmed and on edge. "Hail, I am Jon Stark! I was sent by your ledge lord, Lord Manderly to see if your loyalty to the North and to the Starks is still true. Might I speak to Lord Blacken?" Jon shouted to the guards at the ramparts. Jon looked to Tormund, and then to Val. This could be a trap, who's to say they haven't joined the Boltons yet...I must stay wary. Jon thought, placing his hand on the palm of Longclaw.

[The Independent Hazerls]

Lord Garlan Tyrell "The Gallant", Lord of Brightwater Keep

No more than a couple hours after Garlan's joust with the Rosethorn, the Lord of the Keep was back on the tracks. This time, on the other side, stood Ser Wilhain Storm of the Scorched Shields, representing Daegon Blackfyre.
The herald announced him as "The Knight of Silver Trefoils," and Garlan had to admit the man's armor was something special for a common sellsword. It was beautiful, in the inverted colors of his House. He rode on a gelding which Garlan recognized, and that was when he recalled his brother Willas had given some horses to the Shields.
Good, reflected the Lord, I know that horse, it will help in the joust." The trumpets screamed out, and the two horses started cantering towards each other. Garlan approached differently from his previous round, this time starting violently, Wind of the Sea going at full speed. Still, this almost turned out to be his disgrace:
The Stormlander bastard stayed calm, and hit powerfully. Garlan managed bringing his shield up just in time, while his lance hit the sellsword's shield feebly. Neither fell, and they went back, readying for the second charge.
And similarly, the two hit each other, cursed, splintered and broke shields and spears, and trotted back into position. Stay focused! screamed Garlan to himself. He had to beat Wilhain. He had promised he'd win the tourney to his brother, Loras, in dream. Now he had to live up to it.
The third time around, Garlan concentrated. He started off similarly to when he faced the Rosethorn, just speeding up near the end. His lance went to hit Wilhain Storm in the side with a sickening thud, sending the mercenary spinning off his horse. Garlan saluted the crowd, then rode over to Wilhain. "Wilhain, are you fine? Let me help you to your feet..."
The two knights embraced, and laughed. Garlan had passed yet another round, and now he waited eagerly for the third part of this competition.

[Eraus]

Adam Blacken, Lord of Castle Blacken, Head of House Blacken

A Sentry ran up to Adam who was in standing at the port for the third day. "Lord Blacken!!!" The Man Screamed at that moment Adam thought the Boltons were coming for them. "It's Jon Snow, He's Here M'lord" Adam slighty smiled. "Next time don't make it seem like the Boltons are coming" Adam said as he went with the Sentry to the Gate. None of the Guards moved or even looked at Jon. The Gates opened and Adam walked to Jon and Said "Cousin Snow, Where are your Wildlings?" He said with a Smile

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark Swords

"Lady Lion, This is my friend Rose." He said with a chuckle. "I think I've got to joust soon, I Shall be back." He said as he picked up his chest piece and started to put his helm on which took more time than usual as he had to put his hair out of the bun he put it in. "TIP!" Axel screamed for the boy. "Get the Beast." He said as he put his chest piece on. Axel got on his Zorse.

As Axel and Dickon Tarly passed eachother Axel gloated with a mocking bow and a laugh. May the Gods give my Lance strength thought as his beast began to sprint full speed at Dickon. They started to get closer and time seemed to slow down for Axel as he started to remember the North and how he missed it. Axel was already in the position he wanted but was still imagining the North when he felt impact. Axel suddenly snapped back into the tourney as he noticed that his shield was slightly dented on the far left side and his lance was mostly fine. Both Riders began to ride towards each other and Beast let out an ungodly like Scream which inspired Axel to Scream out "FOR THE NORTH" just moments before impact. Axel's lance and shield were destroyed but the Tarly boy was flung right off his horse.

Axel leap of Beast and took his helm off. "FOR THE NORTH, FOR THE BLACKENS AND OUR KIN" He screamed gloating with a big smile. He then whistled and beast came back to him. Axel took his Zorse back to his Stable. As he started to get back he saw a good looking girl watching him.

[The Slavic League]

Ryon Carcarion
The River Mander

The Peaceful Flower was a prisoner ship run by house Tyrell. Its perpous was transporting prisoners that were essentially 'VIPs'. Nobles, Generals, Knights, and so for were prisoner on the ship. Each cell was nicely made, resembling a inns most expensive room. The prisoners were treated with much more respect than an average prisoner vessel. Prisoners were given most tasty foods, but had the same amount as other prison vessels. The luxury of the ship was not satisfactory however, as the guards treated the prisoners like any other prisoner, like trash.

Ryon sat in the rocking chair in his cell, and somewhat found entertainment in how the chair rocked along with the waves. He was beginning to wonder where the ship was going. The guards did not tell him at all, and he did not have contact with any of the other prisoners, save his wife which was allowed to visit him every few days. She however, did not know either where they were going.

He began to wonder what may be next for him. Was he headed to the Wall to be forced into the Nights Watch? Kings Landing to be tortured in the Grand Sept of Baelor and forced to confess his 'sins' in front of everyone? Maybe he was headed back to the Iron Islands to be exchanged with a thrall or a salt wife. He knew that if that was the case he would surely be killed by Euron, who had abandoned him and his house to be thrown to the wolves. Or the flowers in this case.

It was ironic he thought. A shark, and a leviathan side by side was defeated by a simple flowers. He could picture the bards across Westeros singing their ballads now. 'The Shark defeated by Flowers', he would have bards drowned for singing such things. But that was not what worried him. The other Ironborn would be told lies. That Ryon had betrayed the Iron Islands and sworn fealty to Aegon. Many may even say he converted to the Seven, which to him was unthinkable.

The lord of Saltward let out a sigh, and then turned to the bookcase in his room. On stood and walked over to it, and looked at the titles of the books. The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children. by Maester Malleon, a long title, but outdated. History of the Ironborn by Archmaester Haereg, The Black Princess and The Green Queen by Archmaester Gyldayn, Lives of Four Kings by Grand Maester Kaeth, as well as many others. But one drew his attention instantly, The Seven-Pointed Star, the holy text for the followers of the Seven.

He became curious and opened the book to a random page and read:

The Father reached his hand into the heavens and pulled down seven stars and one by one he set them on the brow of Hugor of the Hill to make a glowing crown...

Ryon chuckled at such a thing. Why was everything seven for these people. Did Hugor of the Hill have seven magical chickens, how about seven flying carpets. He turned to another page:

The Maid brought him forth a girl as supple as a willow with eyes like deep blue pools and Hugor declared that he would have her for his bride. So the Mother made her fertile, and the Crone foretold that she would bear the king four-and-forty mighty sons. The Warrior gave strength to their arms, whilst the Smith wrought for each a suit of iron plates.

Why did the Maid not give him a fertile girl in the first place? Also, why not Seven-and-Seventy mighty sons? Ryon wondered if the suits of iron that the Smith supposedly made for them still existed somewhere, perhaps in the ruins of Valyria somewhere.

Ryon threw the book away, and then turned to his bed to sleep.

[Eraus]

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile, Capt of Dark Swords

Alex decided he should head back to Myrcella and Derren rather than talk to that pretty girl. As he reached them he took his helm off and unstrapped his chest piece as it was more comfortable to sit with out it on. "Lady Lion, Rose...I told you I'd be back." He said with a smile. "Rose I saw a girl looking at me...I don't know all the nobles but maybe she..."Axel said as he tried to look for her. "Okay, I don't knew where she ran off to."

Axel said down next to Myrcella. "So Rose got anything interesting you'd want to talk about?" Axel said

[The Valyria Empire]

---

His Lord Paramount, Jon "Snow", of House Stark, Lord Paramount of the North and Lord of Winterfell

---

"We are Free Folk. Protected by Lord Stark here and his King." Val remarked to Lord Blacken as grabbed her spear. Jon then held his hand up to Val making her let go of the spear. "Lord Blacken, while we can trace our bloodline we are not cousins are you say." Jon said as he put his hand down. "I have come to see if you still hold loyalty to House Stark. I require your assistance in driving the Boltons from my home. The bastards who murdered my brother, your father and countless more." Jon paused, looked at Ghost who is almost as large as his horse then back to Adam. "I understand if you don't want to risk your men for this cause. However Lord Manderly and countless others stand at my side. Should you decide not to aid me, I will hold no ill towards you." Then a quick blast of cold wind hit them, blowing snow all around them.

[Danceria]

Ser Derron "Rosethorn" of Duskendale, Hedge Knight and Heir of House Dargood
Highgarden, the Reach
The Stands of the Tourneygrounds

---

"I honestly do not know, aside from maybe placin' me bets." the Knight sighed as he fiddled with his now injured arm. "Saw quite a bunch o' lads in th' healin' chamber. They either knock 'em down 'ard or go down 'arder."

A smile then played across the Knight's lips, and he glanced at Myrcella, then to Axel. "Ye remarked earlier about m'name being...interestin'. Rosethorn. Are ye curious as to 'ow I got it?" he asked Axel slyly.

[Eraus]

Adam Blacken, Lord of Blacken Castle, Head of House Blacken

Adam Smiled with the Wildling women talked and as she grabbed her spear. The Guards all put their hands on their Swords but when they heard Adam say"I like her, Feisty" they knew she was not a threat. Adam shook Jon's hand. "We are Cousins, Whether you like it or not. For the Stark are my family" Adam said with a Smile. "Why would we not follow our family to war. For the Blackens are of Stark Blood." Adam said with a smile. "One more thing Wild woman....Is that something I can call you?" Adam said jokingly "I only see one king. For he is a Stark. That is what my Father, Your brother and all those Northerners died for. I will only Follow Snow, For he is my King not some idiot in King's landing whom only looks out for his own" Adam said with courage. "Now I ask again. Where are the Wild Folk" Adam said couriously "I don't see a Wild Army"

-------

Axel Blacken, Lord in exile

"Uh, oh yeah....Where did you get the name Rose from?" Axel said with a chuckle "I mean I'm called Black Wolf and your called Rosethorn... For you know a Northern Wolf can kill even the mightiest men" Axel said jokingly

[Warg the Immortal]

Ser Sivert Pyke, Mercenary Serjeant of the Shield Scorchers Blue Maniple,
Bastard of House Saltcliffe, the White Serpent

---

Shortly before current time

Sivert watched from the sidelines as the next match began. He had to laugh, the two who were competing were men of the Shield Scorchers, Serjeant Brick Flowers, and one of their newer recruits, Eddard Storm, or 'Ed' as he preferred to be called. The two had both won their bouts in the first round, and Ed had gone on to win against a lordling from Dorne. The two men were announced, Storm taking the moniker 'the Lightning Bolt' and Flowers taking the name 'the Knight of Bricks '. As the two men made their courtesy pass and exchanged pleasantries, Sivert could see that they were on good terms, touching their shields as they passed as a sign of brotherhood. Then the real joust began.

The first pass saw Storm charging his gelding at full speed, while Flowers' own horse ran briskly, but not quite full speed. The two met, lances disintegrating with the impact, Eddard caught Brick's lance in the shoulder, but managed to stay aboard his gelding, his own lance crashing so violently into Flowers' shield that after impact the lance was knocked from his grip. However Brick was unfazed by the explosive landing, and did not even lose his balance when his shield splintered around his arm. The two returned to starting positions for the next pass. Storm once again too off at incredible speed, this time however Flowers matched it. The two soon met, and at the last moment Flowers made the fatal mistake of moving his shield to a different position too early. Storm saw it and lifted his lance into the path of Flower's opposite shoulder. Flowers did not have time to readjust, and Storm's lance hit him hard enough to send him spiralling of the back of his horse. He landed with a sickening crunch, armour clearly bent, and shoulder very broken. He was carted off to the maester, and the trournet grounds were leafed for the next match, Sivert's match.

...

Current Time

Sivert lowered his visor, across the grounds was his opponent, the Dragon King, Aegon Targaryen. His golden armour reflected brilliantly in the sun, on his head was a helm with draconic features and a thin slit that exposed only the King's violet eyes. *Hmph* I can't abide such gaudy armour, no need for protection to be coloured, still I'll admit the boy cuts a regal presence in it. The announcer began to declare the titles they had chosen. "Announcing, the White Snake Knight, Ser Sivert Pyke and The Dragon Knight, His Grace, King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name.!" The crowd roared when the King was announced, raising his lance, striped black and red. Sivert lifted his own lance, striped black and white. Then the two began their courtesy pass, again Sivert stayed silent but nodded his head out of respect, much to his surprise he was met with the same from the King. Well I'll be fucked, this kingling is more humble than all the lord of the west combined.

Then began the first pass. Sivert kicked his gelding into a break neck speed, and the Targaryen matched it on a black stallion with a golden mane. Sivert could tell immediately that the boy was new to jousting, he fumbled for a moment getting his lance into the arret, but managed to place it in time for when they met. The two lances clashed against the opposing shields, all four splintering. Aegon and Sivert both remained horsed. After retrieving new equipment they continued, again they met, much with the same result, however this time Aegon appeared much more confidant in the saddle, and got his lance in the arret at the perfect time. The boy is a natural, with a few more years of practice I daresay he could be winning tourney's all over Westeros. Tossing away their shattered shields and lances they again took positions for a third pass. The boy was again a more confidant rider in the saddle, unfortunately, too confidant. He charged faster than before with his lance prepared with deadly purpose, but had left his shoulders wider than before, exposing a perfect target for Sivert. Now all the iron born bastard had to do was worry about the lance aiming straight for him with enough force to kill the Mountain himself. Sivert decided at the last moment he would uncouch his lance from the arret and thrust at the King's exposed shoulder. The plan worked perfectly, and sent the boy flying of his stallion landing hard on his back. Sivert remained untouched, his opponents lance flying harmlessly to the ground.

Sivert slowed his horse to a trot and lowered himself to the ground, rushing over to help the young king from the ground. "If you had tucked in your shoulder Your Grace, then I daresay you would have unhorsed me. With some practice you may become a better competitor than Ser Garlan."

[Nasaira]

HIGHGARDEN, THE REACH

The sun was high and shining bright, birds were chirping and singing their summer songs. Knights cheered as the first round of jousts began and the small folk cheered for their favorites. All of the Knights of the reach and a few men of the Golden Company it seemed turned out for the event. Banners of House Tyrell and House Targaryen dotted the tourney grounds. The people cheered for Aegon as he waved to the crowd that had gathered near the jousting grounds.

Aegon stood up from his seat, noticing that his betrothed eyes were fixated on the grounds down below. Questions aroused in his head but he kept them to himself as he walked past Margeary giving a glancing smile at her. On the grounds itself Lord Varys pulled the young king to the side and whispered some news from his little birds into his graces ears.

The time had come for the joust and King Aegon had drawn to be matched against Ser Pyke. An ironborn who's martial prowess had already become known to him, he was a favorite her at the tourney. At first Aegon fumbled with his lance but quickly fixed his stance, his heart was beating so loud it echoed inside of his armor as he rode towards Ser Pyke when finally both of their lances shattered, and the second tilt began. The second tilt gave the same result but now Aegon was learning fast, the crowd cheered the young king as the third tilt was about to begin.

The third tilt started with Aegon digging his heels into the side of his stallion. At full speed Aegon charged at his ironborn opponent, the excitement and adrenaline proved to be his downfall as Aegon had left his shoulder unprotected but the ironborn honed in on the opening. With a mighty crash Aegon was sent from his horse flipping in the air and landing with a might impact into the dirt. Unharmed but shaken from the experience, Ser Pyke rode up to the king as he lay in the dirt and offered some compliments and advice to his grace.

A humble and proud man Aegon thought to himself and he rose to his feet. "Ser Pyke please come down from your horse and stand before me." As Ser Pyke unhorsed Aegon removed his helm and stared at their ironborn who had just defeated him. "A good match Ser" Aegon said to Ser Pyke. The young king then grabbed Ser Pyke by his wrist and raised his arm in victory and the crowd gave a mighty cheer.

Aegon the lowered his arm and addressed the crowd. "Ser Pyke has proven himself, he has proven not only he is a fine warrior but also he has honor. Honor has been lost to this realm and men like Ser Pyke should reward for theirs. Ser Pyke I offer you a position on my kings guard do you accept?"

_______________________________________

After the joust Aegon sought out the lady Margeary finding her near the stands. She stood in her dark green gown with her green eyes staring at Aegon with affection. The king came in close to Margeary to whisper into her ear.

"You will stop this affair for I will not have a bastard come from your womb" for the first time the kings voice was hash and cold. " I am not a fool nor a child like your previous husbands so do not treat me as such. If you want this wedding to happen then you will head my words."

[The Independent Hazerls]

HIGHGARDEN, THE REACH

The sun was high and shining bright, birds were chirping and singing their summer songs. Knights cheered as the first round of jousts began and the small folk cheered for their favorites. All of the Knights of the reach and a few men of the Golden Company it seemed turned out for the event. Banners of House Tyrell and House Targaryen dotted the tourney grounds. The people cheered for Aegon as he waved to the crowd that had gathered near the jousting grounds.

Aegon stood up from his seat, noticing that his betrothed eyes were fixated on the grounds down below. Questions aroused in his head but he kept them to himself as he walked past Margeary giving a glancing smile at her. On the grounds itself Lord Varys pulled the young king to the side and whispered some news from his little birds into his graces ears.

The time had come for the joust and King Aegon had drawn to be matched against Ser Pyke. An ironborn who's martial prowess had already become known to him, he was a favorite her at the tourney. At first Aegon fumbled with his lance but quickly fixed his stance, his heart was beating so loud it echoed inside of his armor as he rode towards Ser Pyke when finally both of their lances shattered, and the second tilt began. The second tilt gave the same result but now Aegon was learning fast, the crowd cheered the young king as the third tilt was about to begin.

The third tilt started with Aegon digging his heels into the side of his stallion. At full speed Aegon charged at his ironborn opponent, the excitement and adrenaline proved to be his downfall as Aegon had left his shoulder unprotected but the ironborn honed in on the opening. With a mighty crash Aegon was sent from his horse flipping in the air and landing with a might impact into the dirt. Unharmed but shaken from the experience, Ser Pyke rode up to the king as he lay in the dirt and offered some compliments and advice to his grace.

A humble and proud man Aegon thought to himself and he rose to his feet. "Ser Pyke please come down from your horse and stand before me." As Ser Pyke unhorsed Aegon removed his helm and stared at their ironborn who had just defeated him. "A good match Ser" Aegon said to Ser Pyke. The young king then grabbed Ser Pyke by his wrist and raised his arm in victory and the crowd gave a mighty cheer.

Aegon the lowered his arm and addressed the crowd. "Ser Pyke has proven himself, he has proven not only he is a fine warrior but also he has honor. Honor has been lost to this realm and men like Ser Pyke should reward for theirs. Ser Pyke I offer you a position on my kings guard do you accept?"

_______________________________________

After the joust Aegon sought out the lady Margeary finding her near the stands. She stood in her dark green gown with her green eyes staring at Aegon with affection. The king came in close to Margeary to whisper into her ear.

"You will stop this affair for I will not have a bastard come from your womb" for the first time the kings voice was hash and cold. " I am not a fool nor a child like your previous husbands so do not treat me as such. If you want this wedding to happen then you will head my words."

Queen Margaery Tyrell
Highgarden, The Reach

"My king I am, I-" Margaery broke down crying, trying to appeal to Aegon's sentimental side. "I am so sorry for what happened. I felt... insecure, and acted wrongly. Please forgive me..."
She nearly fell to her knees, and begged the Targaryen monarch. It was Varys' work, she was sure. The "Spider" knew all, and Margaery couldn't do much more than pray Axel Blacken had been given away.
She had assured him it was all fine, and maybe he had already been seized. She had no way of knowing..."

Ser Willas Tyrell, Heir to Highgarden
Highgarden, The Reach

All that day, Willas had been watching the damned jousts. His brother Garlan winning many rounds brought some joy to the castle's heir, but inside his heart cried, for he so much wished to ride and joust like all these other knights.
After Ser Sivert Pyke unhorsed the King himself, and the Ironborn had been offered a place in the Kingsguard, Aegon had confronted Margaery. Willas did not know what it was all about, but at the end his sister was crying. It couldn't be good.
"You, boy." Said Willas, turning to the lad near him. It was Herwyck, the castellan of the seat of some southern Reach house. "Help me up," ordered the cripple.
As soon as he was on his feet, he started limping over to the girl's side. "Marge, what is it?" He whispered soothingly. The girl kept sobbing, but said something through gritted teeth:
"Aeg-Aegon. He, he knows..."
"He knows what, Margaery?" Willas was starting to get worried...
"About me and... Axel."
Seven Hells! She'd been in bed with Axel damn Blacken! "And... what will Aegon do now..?"
"He, he said that if it... if it happens again, I will not be queen."
Willas knew what a great problem that would be, but he decided against showing fear in front of his broken-down sister.
"All will be fine. Just... do not do it again. Axel is a good, true man and a friend. He will certainly understand. Furthermore, if it happens again, his life will be at stake, so certainly he'll understand. Do you wish me to speak to him?"
The girl shook her head, the tears having now passed away. "No, brother. I will speak to him once this tourney is over."

[The Independent Hazerls]

Ser Baelor Hightower, Heir to the Hightower
Highgarden, The Reach

"Ser Axel Blacken, the Northern Wolf! And Ser Baelor Hightower, the True Spear!"
The crowds all around the two knights cheered, pumping up Baelor's heart. He had been in no more than a couple tournies before this one, and none had been so important.
Furthermore, he had been jousting wonderfully! He had already unhorsed Ser Ontor of House Hewett, and now he was up against a greatly experienced Northern sellsword.
The trumpets blared and the two steeds raced down towards each other. Ser Baelor was atop a salt-and-pepper stallion, who's strength awed men and beasts alike.
As they closed in on each other, Axel pushed the tip of his lance down. Clever, thought Baelor, and he was ready for it. His shield came thundering down while his spear remained high. It caught Blacken full on the chest, but for some miracle the man stayed on.
The two went back into starting positions and charged again. This time too Axel used that trick, and yet again Baelor predicted it and hit the man. This time, the lance splintered as it collided with Blacken's ribs. He flew off, landing near to the stands. I've won, again! reflected Baelor, marveled. And indeed he had...
Still, Axel seemed angry. "Damn it! Damn you!" He turned to the heir of the Hightower. "How did I lose to you, ser?" He snorted, and shouted out, livind with anger.
Baelor was surprised; Axel had always seemed gentle and a fair-sport. What had made him behave like that after he got unhorsed?"

[Warg the Immortal]

Ser Sivert Pyke, Mercenary Serjeant of the Shield Scorchers Blue Maniple,
Bastard of House Saltcliffe, the White Serpent

---

Short Moments Ago

The Ironborn removed his helm, staring into the kings violet eyes with his own grey ones as Aegon offered him a position on the coveted King's Guard. Damn this kingling is generous too, does he have any faults? Sivert cleared his throat before beginning. "You honour me Your Grace, but unfortunately I must decline your offer at this time, I have sworn myself to your cousin, Daegon Blackfyre, and by extension to Her Grace, your aunt, Daenerys Targaryen. It would bring dishonour to myself to break my oath to my lord, I am sorry to disappoint you." With that Sivert took the kings forearm, giving him a firm shake before bowing, returning his helm to his head and returning to the sidelines to prepare for his next joust.

...

Current Time

Sivert was back in the saddle again, this time for a bout against yet another free rider, some boy by the name of Rody Knigh. Sivert was pretty sure the fool had simply been too lazy to finish spelling the surname 'Knight' on his entry name. He flew a simple banner at least, which Sivert respected, lone grey full helm on a field of red. The master of ceremonies announced their names; "Ser Sivert Pyke, the 'White Serpent Knight', and Rody Knigh, the 'Free Knight'!"

The two took their places, making their courtesy pass. The free rider leaned toward Sivert as he passed, whispering; "Go back to Essos, you Ironborn bastard". Sivert ignored him, instead focusing on the their first pass. Simple sigil or not this little cunt's ass is grass. With the first pass Sivert aimed low, aiming for the stomach. The free rider saw it and moved his shield accordingly. Then a few moment before collision, Sivert aimed lower still at the mans groin. Rody manage to deflect the blow but only nearly.

The second pass began and this time Rody covered his groin, and in doing so angled his shield like a ramp to his head. Just as Sivert had anticipated. At the last moment he lifted his lance aiming for the top of the boy's shield. The tip broke on the shield, but because of the angle flew up under the man's full helm, hitting him in the jaw and sending him tumbling from his brown mare.

Sivert climbed down and helped the maester lift the boy onto the medical cart, before removing his helm and whispering into Knigh's ear. "Cross me again your jaw won't just be broken, it'll be off your sad corpse entirely." The man tried to reply, but it only came out as a weak and incoherent gurgle. Sivert stalked off to find a wineskin, and feed his horse.

[The Valyria Empire]

---

His Lord Paramount, Jon "Snow", of House Stark, Lord Paramount of the North and Lord of Winterfell

---

Jon was taken by Lord Blacken's claim. None of the other lords called Jon "his King." While Lyanna Mormont had sent Stannis that letter Jon had never thought of being King. Jon then shook his head, getting the thought from his mind. "I'm sorry, Lord Blacken. I am no King, I made a deal with His Grace and I plan to keep it." Jon then dismounted his horse and got closer to Lord Blacken with Ghost at his side, for any of his men could be working for the Boltons. Once he was closer to Adam he leaned in closer. "I have a force of about five hundred men and women plus a giant at my command. I had them remain at the border of your land, to watch for Bolton men. In times like this it's hard to find someone to trust. I'm placing my trust in you. Lord Blacken in the name of our ancestors, I want you to swear that you won't assist the Boltons." Jon whispered to Adam before backing away. Another gust of wind blew, snow flew past their eyes.

[Eraus]

Adam Blacken, Lord of Blacken Castle, Head of House Blacken

Adam assumed that Jon would not take the title so willingly. "King Snow, You and your wild folk are welcome in my Lands." Adam said looking at the woman with the spear. "She seems nice" He said jokingly while he waved at her. "I would rather burn my lands and destroy my Castle and town before I let a Bolton fuck come anywhere near it." Adam said furiously but then calmed himself.

"I will Pledge my sword and my men to fight for the King of the North as my father did, Remember the last Lord Paramount of the North was Eddard Stark. We will fight for you and I will follow you to the ends of the world." Adam said with honor. "But you must give me something after we take winterfell." The young man said bluntly.

"Wife and Lands for my men to fight. Simple." Adam said "My father followed King Robb to war and what was he promised? An Independent North....Look at us now, We are under another Southron fool. So I expect those two things.Now Would you like to come inside?" Adam said pausing as he looked at the wild woman. "Make sure that Wife is a Noble one" Adam said just making sure.

[The Independent Hazerls]

Lord Garlan Tyrell "The Gallant", Lord of Brightwater Keep
Highgarden, The Reach

And for the third time in that tourney, Garlan Tyrell readied for a round. Usually, he wasn't too much of a jouster: he didn't care about gaining glory that way, and he preferred earning it on the field of battle. Still, in the night, he had dreamed of Loras, now dead. He prayed the Gods give him strength to win the competition in his brother's honor.
Ser Garlan Tyrell "The Gallant", and Ser Baelor Hightower, "The True Spear!" The herald had been changed, the former one's voice having disappeared due to screaming names and titles all day. This second one was younger, and his voice more irritating.
Then Garlan turned to face Baelor. He was even younger than the lord of Brightwater, and clad in white and red armor with a grey tower emblazoned on his chest. He rode a huge grey stallion, and his lance was all grey.
Garlan had had to change his steed for this bout, as Wind of the Sea was tired. He now sat upon Servant, a calm and kindly gelding; quick yet easy to control.
And that was exactly what Garlan wanted in this round. He would have to use all his knightly experience to beat the Hightower, for the young lad had surprised everyone on that day.
As they charged forward the first time, Garlan noticed Baelor did all he had to do a second too early. So Garlan, calmy, waited to see the boy's last move just as they reached each other, and then he pushed his spear down so it struck the boy's hip.
Both man and horse flew. The destrier whinnied loudly as he got toppled over by the lance, but the young knight remained silent as he flew, landing in the mud. Knowing he had hit hard, Garlan raced over to Baelor's side to see if the boy was fine.
"Baelor, very well done! You will grow up to be a greater jouster than most people here today."
The boy was not in great pain, but nonetheless Maester Gormon wished to analyze his hipbone.
I have won again! remembered Garlan, dazed. He had made it to the final, and was now very much looking forward to seeing two noble bastards from the Blackfyre's company joust.
Ned Storm and Sivart Pyke. Garlan feared facing the second of the two, but he knew that that was the likely option...