The day of the tourney arrived with all the splendor expected as the city gathered to watch the participants make their way to the tourney grounds. Sansa was sat with Jeyne Poole and Septa Mordane watching the knights pass. Jeyne declared her willingness to wed Lord Beric Dondarrion the moment she saw him before they spotted Jon riding with Ser Domeric and Ser Loras.
Loras looked no less resplendent than her had during the last tourney, the flowers adorning his horse and cloak exchanged for fresh cut sapphire forget-me-nots. Domeric still wore his imposing armor slit like human muscles with a blood red mane of streams along the ridge of his helmet, laying atop the pink cloak spotted with droplets of blood.
Jon wore a plate set not unlike the others, a full harness covering his arms and legs while sat atop his black courser. The steed wore a gray caparison edged in white with white, red eyed wolves on either side of it. He'd forgone his crow helm for a close helmet with a visor that seemed to come to a point, leaving a narrow slit for his eyes. On his waist was a black belt holding a small dagger with a white hilt and a slender sword with a gray hilt, straight cross guard and circular pommel.
Though the plate, mail, cloak and even bits of leather, buckles and straps were all blackened he wore a gray gambeson beneath it and had streamers of gray, white and red silk coming off his helm. The only other strike of color was the band of red wrapped around his right bicep which made the girls giggle as they tried to guess who would give him a favor from houses with red and green colors, assuming it was even someone of note and not some maid.
Sansa found herself feeling a hint of pride as she saw him riding beside Domeric and Loras without seeming out of place. He'd been so kind to her since their return to King's Landing, taking her for walks, introducing her to his friends, letting her play with Ghost as much as she needed. He could have teased her for crying but he never did, consoling her or doing something to take her mind off her sorrows. She'd feared leaving Robb at Winterfell would leave her alone, yet she'd found another brother here.
Arriving at the ground, they were soon joined by Loras' pages while Sam looked over Arya who had hair hidden beneath an arming cap while wearing breeches and a tunic with an unmarked surcoat. Jon removed his sword and handed it to her, letting her place it with his lance along with his cloak.
While they all began their preparations, Jon noted another squire looking his way as Arya helped him make sure his armor was still secure after stretching and jumping in it. He'd removed his helm, leaving little doubt of who he was. Once he'd seen to his own lord's needs, the boy seemed to gather his nerves and approach them.
"Pardon, my lord," the boy said quietly, making Arya turn to look at him skeptically while Sam and Dom looked on from the side. The boy was younger than Jon, near Myrcella's age he guessed. His hair was pale blond and his eyes such dark blue they seemed purple as he smiled shyly at Jon. "You're Jon Snow? The baseborn son of Eddard Stark?"
Arya bristled at that while Jon nodded. "I am. You are?"
The boy's smile grew as he stood straighter. "I'm Edric Dayne… Lord of Starfall and squire to Lord Beric Dondarrian. We share a bond as well, Ser Jon."
"I'm no knight, Lord Dayne," Jon said with a smile, Edric seeming uncomfortable when Jon called him Lord. "Though what do you mean we share a bond?"
"We are milk brothers."
"Brothers?" Arya asked glancing between the two. "You're from Dorne, how could you and Jon be blood?"
"Milk brothers," Edric clarified. "Not blood. My lady mother had no milk when I was little, so Wylla had to nurse me."
"Wylla?" Jon recognized the name from when he'd asked Eddard to speak more on what happened at the Tower of Joy. He was reluctant to say much, but told Jon that afterward he'd gone to Starfall to return Arthur Dayne's sword Dawn and found a wet nurse there to help feed Jon. A wet nurse named Wylla.
"Your mother," Edric said with a smile. "She's served us for years and years. Since before I was born. Likely before you were born, I'd imagine."
Arya gasped, looking to Jon, who as far as she knew had never heard of his mother. To her shock he shook his head and offered a kind smile. "Though I agree we are milk brothers, I'm afraid you have it wrong there. As I know it, Wylla was only my wet nurse for a time."
Edric blinked in confusion. "Is that true? I'd heard she nursed you before Lord Stark took you to Winterfell."
"Lord Stark told me much of the same, but said she wasn't my mother."
"Did he tell you who she is?" Arya asked with a smile, as if Edric weren't there.
Jon frowned. "He told me she died."
"Oh," Arya deflated. "I'm sorry."
Jon shook his head, "It's fine."
"I beg forgiveness as well, Ser-Uh, Lord Snow," Edric frowned.
Jon shook his head. "It's fine. Though I'm glad to meet another brother."
Edric smiled at that. "I as well. I wish you luck in the tilt."
"And you and your lord as well, Lord Dayne."
"Ned," Edric said after a moment of hesitation. "Most call me Ned."
"Like my father," Jon noted with a laugh.
Edric nodded. "I suppose so."
"Then please, call me Jon as my brothers do, whether by blood or arms," he said with a motion to Dom and Sam. "Perhaps we could take to the yard some day if your lord agrees to it."
Edric had turned to give the others a nod when he turned to smile at Jon. "I'll ask once the tourney is concluded."
Once Edric returned to Lord Beric, Jon put on his helmet and mounted his horse while the tourney began. Jory Cassel was in the first round, defeating Horas of House Redwyne. Jon was disappointed he couldn't ride against him after having noticed him making squealing noises at Sam earlier. To his relief he was instead paired against Ser Hobber Redwyne, his twin.
Taking his lance from Arya, he turned it slightly and kicked his heels into his courser, smiling beneath his helm both for the impending hit and the feel of the young steed's speed compared to what he'd ridden before. He kept his eyes on Hobber as he drove his lance forward, straight for his heart, knocking him clear off his horse while the Redwyne's lance splintered against the visage of Ghost upon Jon's shield.
Jon considered rejecting Hobber's horse and armor, saying it was as unworthy of ransom as he was unworthy of knighthood for his taunting of Sam, but instead he decided he would use the Redwyne knight's ransom to buy Sam a sword.
He also found joy in seeing Loras defeat Meryn Trant of the kingsguard, who years on still sneered at Jon as if he were an insult. Domeric unhorsed one of the many Freys while Ser Jaime and the Clegane brothers won their opening matches. Even Lord Beric won his match, though by forfeit when the hedge knight he faced slew the horse beneath him, forcing him to switch saddles to his new mount, which he was knocked from by Thoros of Myr in his next tilt.
Ser Gregor's second joust ended in death as his lance pierced the neck of Ser Hugh of the Vale, killing him. Domeric's eyes narrowed as he watched Ser Gregor ride off while Sam gasped and snapped his eyes closed. Jon had leapt off his horse and wrapped an arm around Arya, turning her away from where the knight lay drowning in blood. She didn't cry, but Jon felt her shiver slightly before meeting his eyes through his helmet and giving him a nod to say she was fine. In the stands he saw Jeyne weeping while Sansa kept her composure, much like Myrcella did frowning and looking away to console Tommen.
Once Ser Hugh's body was taken away the lanes were cleared and Domeric went out to ride against Ser Barristan Selmy. The Flayed Knight matched the Lord Commander for a time before Domeric admitted defeat. Returning to the sides he told the others, "I'd rather forfeit the match than my arm if he hit it again."
Loras defeated another kingsguard while Domeric tied off his horse and took to helping Sam and Arya prepare Jon for his next match. While Loras returned he glanced back to where Lord Renly Baratheon rode onto the field while the crowd cheered for him. Passing Jon he gave the squire a nod, turning his horse to watch his friend face his lord and lover.
Jon's armor seemed drab compared to the brilliant forest green of Renly's armor with a helm topped by magnificent golden antlers. Though not as tall or muscular as his brothers Renly had height on Jon, yet after their first exchange ended with both lances splintering, it was Renly who flew from his horse. He head hit the ground with a crack that made the crowd gasp, though he rose with a laugh holding the broken golden antler.
Loras let out a sigh of relief as he watched Renly toss the antler to Jon, likely as ransom for his armor and horse, yet Jon looked it over and tossed it into the crowd. It was Renly who walked out into them to restore the peace as they took to fighting over the bit of gold. When Jon returned Loras gave him a nod, letting out a relieved sigh.
Barristan would ride against Jaime and lost again on the king's decision, though Jon wondered if perhaps the queen had a hand in their exchanges always seeming to go to Jaime. He felt himself growing frustrated at the idea of her sat in her chair with her smug smile as she decided who won or loss.
That anger boiled his blood as he took up his lance and rode against Sandor Clegane, splintering lances against the larger man's armor. He felt his arm ache as he took his third lance and made his way back to Arya and the others. Sam gasped when Jon snatched the lance from his hands and turned his horse in one movement, breaking into another charge as he leaned forward, his eyes piercing the narrow slit of his helm as he sat up slightly, thrusting his lance into Sandor's chest at an angle which forced him to tumble to the side.
He forcefully threw the broken lance aside as he turned his horse, ready to ride back and get another before he spotted the Lannisters' sworn shield laying in the mud and realized what he'd done. He glanced toward the royal booth where he saw Joffrey and Cersei shared sneers aimed at him while Robert wore a grin across his face while laughing. Tommen smiled and clapped while Myrcella gave her own polite clap, a sly smile taking her lips when she saw Jon glance her way.
Arya rushed out to pick up the broken bit of lance Jon left behind, clearing the lane for the next match while he noticed a few of the knights remaining giving him nods.
Loras rode out and gave a red rose to Sansa, claiming no victory half a beautiful as her, mesmerizing the girl before he claimed a victory from Robar Royce. Jon's last match of the day was against Thoros of Myr, nearly unhorsing the man twice before Jon took his victory over the red priest rolling through the dirt.
Robert announced the last three jousts would happen the next day, with only Gregor, Jaime, Jon and Loras remaining.
Switching out his armor for a black doublet and gray jerkin Jon made his way to the feast where he found Samwell sat with Loras. The Knight of Flowers nodded to Jon as he made his way toward where Domeric sat with the men of the North. His good mood soured when he noticed Joffrey sat next to Sansa while taking his seat across from Dom.
"Ser Loras has a keen eye for beauty," Joffrey told her after kissing her hand.
"He was too kind," she demurred, keeping modest and calm. "Ser Loras is a true knight. Do you think he will win tomorrow, my lord?"
"No," Joffrey said. "My uncle Jaime will take it, surely. And in a few years, when I am old enough to enter the list I shall do for them all." Sansa bit back from saying Jon could win, watching Joffrey wave over a servant with a flagon of wine.
At his table Domeric looked to Jon with a sigh. "You rode well today."
"Would you believe me if I said I'm jealous of you?" Jon asked with a smirk. When Dom gave him a questioning look he explained, "Part of me hoped to ride against Ser Barristan. Even if I lost against him, I hoped to measure myself against him."
"And you may well measure yourself against the man who bested him," Dom said with a nod toward Jaime stood near the king and queen.
Jon nodded, glancing at Jaime, then to Ser Loras sat laughing with Sam before turning his gaze upon Ser Gregor. The massive man seemed a true mountain. Jon saw little hope of unhorsing the knight himself. He wondered if even Ser Loras or Jaime could. He'd seen Ser Barristan do it, but he was Barristan the Bold. He could take a lance to the Wall and it would buckle.
In that moment the Mountain's eyes rose and met Jon's, a sneer crossing the massive man's face as he glared at Jon. Jon kept his gaze for a moment. He had heard tales of Gregor's deeds during Robert's Rebellion. Of his supposedly raping the woman who might have been a second mother to him and killing her along with his older half-brother, crushing his head while another murdered his half-sister. He had robbed Jon of family as much as Robert, Aerys or any other person responsible for their deaths. In that moment he decided that if he rode against the Mountain the next day he would put a lance through his throat and watch the man choke and drown in his own blood.
He had calmed by the time the next course arrived, though the quiet was interrupted when Dom sat up and motioned behind him. Jon turned and found Lord Beric Dondarrion with his red-gold hair brushed back and black satin cloak decorated with stars. Beside him was Edric Dayne and the tall, fat, smooth faced Thoros of Myr.
"I thought it easier for me to have Lord Beric pay you from what he owes me," Thoros said with a smile.
"Whatever you think is fair… Ser Thoros?" Jon said uncertainly.
"I'm a red priest, Snow," Thoros said with a laugh. "I don't follow the knight or the other six."
"And I follow the old gods," Dom said with a shrug. "A knighthood still has its uses, doesn't it?"
"You follow your gods, that is different from being one whose life is dedicated to them," Thoros answered, moving to sit at the table while Beric and Edric followed suit.
"How old are you, Jon?" Beric asked with a smile.
"Fifteen."
Thoros and Beric shared a look and a laugh while Edric smiled. Not only had someone so young bested his lord and a veteran like Thoros, giving Edric hope he may do the same in time, but it was his milk brother. The men shook their heads and went about negotiating their prices, ending with Jon getting a few coins from Beric while Thoros took the rest since Beric's armor and horse were deemed of more value.
"I'd have given you the entire purse," Thoros said looking to Jon as he tucked his own away, "but I still need to pay for wine every so often, though thankfully our king graciously provides swords for my melee."
"It seems a waste of a blade," Dom noted, thinking back on Thoros' defeat by Yohn Royce at the tourney on Joffrey's nameday after the wildfire on his sword went out, leaving the blade twisted and unusable.
"Seems a waste of wine," Thoros said picking up their pitcher and pouring himself a cup.
"You rode well," Beric said with a nod to Jon, "though I imagine it's to be expected of one squired to Ser Barristan. I'd have liked to have ridden against you myself. If not for that damn fool slaying my steed I'm sure I could have taken it."
Jon chuckled. "There is always the melee, my lord."
"I fear another trick will claim that," Beric said with a look to Thoros.
"It shall if the lord of light determines it must."
Jon's brow furrowed for a moment before looking to Thoros. "That's a lord of fire, isn't it?"
Thoros arched his brow, as did Dom, Beric and Edric. "R'hllor is the Lord of Light, the God of Flame and Shadow. Is he of interest to you?"
"As interesting as the seven, the drowned god and any others," Jon offered with a shrug. "If I were interested in learning of him, but not necessarily following him, do you think I could speak to you?"
Dom looked confused while Thoros nodded with a smirk. "Fill my flask with wine and I will talk as much as asked."
"I thought you men of the North followed the Old Gods?" Beric asked with a laugh.
"I do," Jon nodded, "but what harm is there in learning of other people's beliefs?"
Once the others left, Dom looked to Jon. "What was that about?"
Looking around to make sure no one would overhear, Jon turned to Dom with a smile. "A god of flames is fairly interesting. Perhaps in time I may seek to change my hilt to one of a golden flame."
At that Dom chuckled, shaking his head. "I guess that could work in time, but they would know it's steel."
"At least if I decide to try I'll have the option," Jon said with a shrug. "Besides, why not learn of it? Perhaps my uncle and aunt are followers."
Dom nodded. "Have you heard from them?"
"No," Jon shook his head. "Even if I knew where they were I can't exactly write to them here. Hopefully Aemon can find them and write something. Otherwise I'll just have to wait."
Jon glanced at the table where Myrcella helped her brother cut his meat, ignoring where her father was speaking loudly with his mother. Turning back to his plate Jon reached for the wine pitcher but Dom put a hand over it to stop him.
"Not this time," he said with a laugh. "Not when you have a tourney to win."
Jon groaned. "Fine. Then I'm going to rest and prepare."
Dom watched Jon leave the hall giving Loras and Sam a nod. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw Gregor Clegane staring at a maid with a hungry grin while tearing into a chunk of meat that dribbled down his chin. Part of him wanted to go over and stick a dagger through the man's eye, but decided to put his faith in Jon and Loras to survive no matter who faced him. They wouldn't die as the knight of the Vale had. They would win, and in time it would be Jon sat at the high table with his blonde wife.