The Eminence in GOT-Chapter 33: The Harrenhal Tournament (Part 3) A dance of ice and flame

«And why can't Howland do it himself? - Temper asked, putting another grape from the dish on the table into his mouth.

"Why do you ask such uncomfortable questions...". - I thought, looking at the swamp dweller who clenched his fists, lowering his head in helplessness and looking down at his feet.

«I can't. - Before I could say anything, he answered without looking up from the floor. - Yes, we swamp-dwellers are smaller than most humans, but we are not strangers to our own pride. I am not a knight - there is no place for horses and tournaments on the marshes. Like all my people, I am more familiar with a simple wooden boat than a warhorse, and my hands are made for a paddle, not a spear. I really wanted to take revenge, but... even if I tried, I would definitely lose. I and all my people would be made fools of.

There was so much bitterness and anger in his words that I wanted to pat him on the shoulder, at least a little to help comfort his grief. But I pulled my hand away, realizing that doing so would only make things worse-no man could bear to be pitied by a woman.

«Then why Lady Stark? - The southerner continued his questioning, still eating grapes. Is he surely a friend of Howland's? Too much questioning and not a bit of help! - Why not one of her many brothers or cousins? Jorah Mormont would beat those squires, even if they were equipped to the level of good knights, with a stick.

«Because I asked him to! - I said loudly, losing my temper. This was not the way I had planned, and I didn't like it at all. - I want to personally knock out of the saddle and embarrass their teachers, showing what happens when you do not educate your squire!

«So you didn't think about what would happen to Howland's pride when a woman avenged him? - Temper suddenly raised his voice slightly, making me squirm reflexively in my chair. There was something tyrannical and penetrating in that voice, something that made me instinctively obey the speaker. My father, Hoster Tully, Ruse Bolton, and any great lord with power had that tone. But to have such intonations in the voice of a former merchant...

«Lady Stark, learn to separate your childish desires from reality. If you had acted as a mysterious knight on the day of the tournament, you might have saved Reed's honor in the eyes of others and taught the squires a lesson, but Howland would have carried the shame of having his honor saved by a woman for the rest of his life. - Lord Temper kept talking, not even raising his tone, but his words seemed to be drumming in my head.

«But...

«No BUT!" the Lord of Osgiliath (the name of the castle I had heard at the feast) shouted, silencing me with a glance, and sat back in his chair. - I'll deal with the three fools myself, but I need you, Howland, to take part in the archery contest tomorrow and win. Can you do that?

When I saw Reed's confident nod, I turned toward the green-eyed brown-haired man, who was looking at me with a strange look.

«And you, my dear Lady Stark, will have to play in the tournament and make it to at least the quarterfinals. - Hearing his words, I almost choked on the tincture I was drinking at that moment.

"Is he joking?" - The thought flashed through my mind and evaporated as I looked into those emerald blazing eyes full of undisguised gloating. Thank the Old Gods it wasn't directed at me.

«Are you serious? - I asked, trying to get my face back to its formerly calm expression.

«Completely. - The Dornish lord replied, folding his arms in a little house. - It's hard to get armor and a horse your size, but not impossible. I think I will provide it for you in the afternoon. You can even practice so you'll be more comfortable in the saddle. If the rumors about your riding and martial skills are true, you'll do well.

«But I'm not a knight! I didn't train for a tournament or anything like that! - He made me mad after all. My screaming must have been heard by the whole camp, judging by Howland's hands over his ears. - How am I supposed to fight Robert?! He'd knock me out of my saddle in the first blow! I don't even have to talk about the others.

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«I'll bribe the steward to give you less powerful opponents. And if you get someone strong... you'll have a few trumps.

From what I heard, I quietly settled back in my chair, in permanent shock.

"How did my idea turn into THIS?!". - I thought, looking at the man sitting in front of me with a slightly huffy look... the monster who had twisted all my plans and ideas under himself. - "I just wanted to buy a little battle armor. And this Dornish lord was the perfect candidate - according to Howland, you could get anything you wanted from him, and he could keep his mouth shut without telling anyone that the mysterious knight was me... And I couldn't refuse. The honor of the North and myself are at stake. "What's in it for me?"

«Why are you doing this? - I finally asked. My voice sounded cracked and dry, as if I hadn't had a drop of moisture in my throat for days. This conversation had worn me out too much. - What do you gain from my participation in the tournament?

Tempest looked at me oddly and leaned back against the table, then began to list his reasons in an even tone:

«You're right - a lot of things your participation won't give me. Except for two things.

Without even an interested look from me, the Dornish lord continued:

«First, there are the stakes. - At my ironically raised eyebrow, he only grinned and with a glance asked me to listen. - Lady Stark, you simply have no idea what kind of money rolls around during the big tournaments among the disputing lords. Tens, if not hundreds of thousands of gold change hands these days, enriching some houses and ruining others. But for me, it's not the money that matters, but the services and things that many lords offer during the betting. You want an interesting fact - in the last major tournament held in Lannisport five years ago, the Dragon's Blood rubies, mined in the mines of the Fourteen Fires and given to the Serrettes by several travelers from Valyria, changed their owners. They now shine on Prince Rhaegar's breastplate as his coat of arms. Or another example, it was there that the Celtigarts lost two of their Valyrian daggers, leaving them in possession of only one axe. I don't know who won them, but by fusing them together you could get half of the sword the Lannisters dream of. And I'm not even talking about services - thanks to them, new allies can appear, engagements can be made and broken off, and dues and taxes cease to affect some people, allowing their caravans to cross such places as the Crossing, the Celestial Empire, the Golden Tooth, and many others without hindrance.

At this revelation, I went into a mild shock. Even to me, far removed from politics and southern intrigue, the value of Valyrian steel and the importance of taxes and taxes was clear. After all, it was the stories of glorious feats performed by the Starks with Ice in their hands that made me what I am today, and the importance of the share of the money collected was very well enlightened by our castle maester, who possessed two gold links.

«And you want to use me to win the bet?

«Yes. Few people will bet on a puny and small knight, and especially on his passage to the 1/4 finals. There's a good profit to be made on this, with minimal risk. Unless, of course, I've been lied to and you're really as good as your big brother in martial prowess.

«I am not. - I said with a slight challenge, remembering how Brandon had resented me when my spear had sent him flying into the mud during mock family tournaments. Though it was a little frustrating that I'd only been chosen because of my physique. - What's the second reason?

«Fun.

I was once again stunned, not knowing how to react.

«And don't give me that incredulous look. - Temper, meanwhile, continued. - What I said was the truth. This life is too short and fleeting to always look to the opinions of others and their common sense. So I live as I please, creating a place for my children and their descendants to live in. Occasionally giving myself little indulgences in the form of fun things like this.

Seeing that cheerful look in his squinting green eyes, I realized more and more that there was something wrong with this man. He was too strange, too obscure and... alien to me. And judging by the drop of sweat running down Reid's temple, he understood me perfectly. So I nodded, giving my consent to this adventure, and the lake man and I said goodbye to the tent master as quickly as possible and rushed away from the camp.

Away from the strange Dornish peddler.

How I got to my own tent, accompanied by Howland, is not in my memory. Nor the moment when my father and mother began reprimanding me and swearing that my missing had put all the Northerners in Harrenhal on their heads.

But I didn't care.

At that moment I had only one wish: to fall face down into my favorite pillow, brought from the North and stuffed with soft falcon down, and fall asleep. Which I did. Tomorrow-today was going to be a hard day, like all the others in this scorching Harrenhal tournament.

***

Temper was not deceived-the armor and horse had been delivered in the afternoon through Reed and tried on by me in an abandoned moor at Harrenhal, the size of Winterfell. So there was no need to worry about anyone seeing me.

"And why is it that all the commoner trials are today and Howland isn't around?" - I thought, adjusting my armor and remembering the reason why my lake friend was showing off the swamp folk's archery skills.

Hangover.

Most of the lords, even those who drank not too much (by the standards of yesterday's feast), were hung over from the morning and were not going to participate in the tournament. Because of this, the tournament organizers, the Went, decided to hold today competitions in archery, singing, horse racing, throwing axes and spears, etc.

«Is everything to your liking, Lady Stark? - But the Dornish peddler, standing not far away and leaning his back on one of the ancients, was in very good spirits and did not hide it.

«It could have been better, Lord Temper. - I replied, inwardly realizing that it couldn't have been better. The full armor, which needed only a small adjustment with special straps, and the thoroughbred Dornish mare, whose grace outshone all the horses I had ever seen, were perfect for me, making me wonder about the green-eyed brown man. - May I ask, where did you get such a small and matching armor to fit me?

«A gift. - Temper answered, surprising and puzzling me. For whom? - I bought it a few years ago from a talented apprentice in one of Mir's forges, who had decided to give it to his sister as a gift. But she died due to illness before he was finished. So I bought them cheap and wanted to sell them on the Isthmus. But as you know, there are no knights there. I didn't know it at the time, so I kept it in the hold of my ship for a while. - At that moment he looked at me, who was finishing tightening the straps of my wristband, and smiled. - Who knew he'd need it. All I had to do was patch it up a bit and update the jewelry. Fate works in mysterious ways.

«I sighed thoughtfully as I put on my helmet, which was decorated with blue bird feathers, pretending I hadn't noticed his reservation. - "So he can forge... So before becoming a merchant he was a blacksmith? Isn't that too much ability for a young age?"

«You are beautiful, Lady Stark. I didn't think you were one of those girls who looks better in armor than in dresses. - Looking me over from head to toe, Temper said, making me cringe. I'd never been complimented like that before. But after looking at myself more closely and admiring the glints of sunlight on the mirror-polished elements of the armor, I agreed with him. The lats looked really good on me, giving me a sense of security and inner harmony that no other Southern dress had. - I took a little liberty and picked out a shield with a coat of arms that suits you very well.

With these words, he handed me a small (for him) bundle wrapped in a simple sackcloth. It contained a shield. A simple triangular tournament shield, made of light mahogany and upholstered in the front with thin steel plates. But what caught my attention the most, and made me wildly excited, was the drawing on the shield. A winter rose. My favorite flower.

«How did you know that? - I asked the man I had to change my mind about several times a day. - Only my family knows it's my favorite flower.

«Intuition, Lady Stark. - Temper replied mysteriously, eliciting a slight chuckle from me. - Too much like this beautiful flower and too loudly your brother Eddard advised one Storm Lord to give you these flowers as a gift.

At the mere mention of Robert my mood soured again, falling below the waters of the White Knife at low tide. But the Dornish man quickly corrected it, taking a scroll from the saddlebag of the Dornish mare handed to me.

«This, Lady Stark, is the list of the contestants and their allocation in the tournament. - He said, showing me a list of at least a hundred names, intricately and confusingly linked together. - As I promised, the steward was bribed by me and allocated you to a group with not too strong knights. But if you win at least four times, you will face a very difficult opponent.

Slanting my eyebrows perplexedly, I waited for the name of the one I need to defeat. If it was one of the royal guards, experienced knights, or, worse, Prince Rhaegar, Temper's plans would go down in flames. But once I heard the name of the one I would face, all doubt vanished, leaving only unyielding determination and the will to win.

«It would surely be Robert Baratheon.

***

281 A.D.

Riverlands, Harrenhal

Day four of the tournament

P.O.V. Oberyn Martell.

«And I tell you, send him to the Water Gardens. That's where all the children of Dorne are raised. Your Lyon will quickly become his own man there. He'll make connections, friends and respect. - Once again, I tried to persuade my friend to send his son to be raised with us. It's not enough that my daughters are all over me, asking me to take them to "Uncle Felix", but Doran keeps hinting to persuade Felix to send a hostage. - With his handsome face, all the girls will be after him. - I looked slyly at the golden-haired boy sitting next to his father, who promises to grow into a handsome boy in the future.

«Smack...

For which I immediately received a strong slap.

«Oberyn, I've told you many times, no. - Said my best friend, making himself comfortable in the chair set up on the podium reserved for the Dornish. - I will not tear my son away from his family, no matter how much you ask me to. I'm sorry to be blunt, but children are sent to the Water Gardens for only three reasons-as hostages if their parents have angered Doran, as a way to get close to future lords, which is the only way for merchant children, and finally, like you, just to get rid of them and get on with their lives.

That's why I've always liked Felix, because he's straightforward and honest, without ever turning into the sharp form of hard-headedness that the middle Baratheon brother, Stannis, is rumored to possess.

«I know you love your family very much. - I pulled thoughtfully, trying to straighten and stretch my legs, which were stiff from sitting in one place for so long. - Especially your wife. You're trying so hard, you've already got a third one on the way.

I dodged another slap, which for the years of our travels together and the friendship that arose because of them turned into a kind of ritual, I only laughed, realizing that the joke was successful and I managed to embarrass this stone face.

«It's going to be too hard to catch up with you," Felix said, turning to look at me. - Felix remarked, turning back to the ring.

«Knowing you, you can do it. - I said, also turning around and watching as the two unknown knights once again enter the clinch. - Always could...

«Huh?

«Never mind.

It was the morning of the fourth day of the tournament, and I was already getting bored.

Back the day before yesterday, at the end of the day, when I and most of the visiting lords had shaken off the hangovers (by drinking several pitchers of wine) earned at the feast, Walter Went announced that due to the poisoning of his two sons by some crap, there would be the usual elimination tournament, where at the end the winner would declare their queen of love and beauty, instead of the promised seven-star (p.a. that's what they call a padarme in Westerosse).

"Strange decision." - I thought then, looking at the somewhat sad and sad faces of the lords. - "After all, seven stars is much more spectacular than the usual form of tournament... Why would old Walter decide to change his mind?"

Judging by the blank faces of the first prince's group, it was no surprise to them, and Rhaegar might well have been the initiator of the change of form. But why...

I didn't think about it for long. My fight was scheduled first, and I had a most unsuitable opponent. Jon Royce. The Lord of the Rune Stone from the Valley was the same age as me, but he was as tall as Felix, though he was noticeably narrower in the shoulders. But that was enough. Where I tried to take the upper hand with agility and skill, he responded with strength and endurance. In the end, after the fifth convention, I, already tired and beaten, was simply knocked out of the saddle.

"Doran will surely laugh heartily when I return." - I thought, remembering my brother's satisfied face as I rode off to Harrenhal. My sister-in-law, after years of trying, was pregnant again and my brother didn't want to leave her. - "Promised to take first place and lay a wreath on Elia's lap, giving a small gift to my sister. And now eliminated in the first round..."

«Lords and ladies, please welcome the last contestants of the fourth race! - The loud voice of the steward and the trumpets blaring in time with his owls made me snap out of my thoughts. Two riders rode onto the ring, already red from the spilled blood of the fifteen knights who had died here. The first was one of a large brood of Freys that could be found anywhere in the Riverlands. It was the second one that drew attention.

"Little one." - I thought, watching the mysterious knight introduced as the Knight of the Winter Rose. Even from the armor, it was obvious that this man was either very young or very small from birth. Such people don't make good warriors. - ''But how did he make it this far? Eh, I shouldn't have drank yesterday. I missed so much... Wasn't he the one the king ordered to send a chase after every time to find out who he was? And they still haven't caught him?"

Once again looking closely at this Pink Knight, who was already standing at the start of the ring and preparing for the start of the fight, I did not leave the feeling that I was missing something, but I could not understand what.

«To-du-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u.

And then the signal to start sounded. Both riders whipped their horses almost instantly to gallop at top speed.

The collision occurred exactly in the middle of the ring.

-Ba-ba-h...

The lances struck almost simultaneously and hit the shields of their opponents, shattering their lances into splinters.

«Nice job. - Felix's comment was heard through the roar of the roaring crowd.

«What are you talking about? - I asked interestedly, realizing that this was the first time I'd seen my friend looking at the tournament with such interest.

«Did you notice what the Knight of the Winter Rose did a second before the collision? - At my negative nodding of my head, Fel pointed his finger at the shield of that particular knight. - He took the blow at an angle, dissipating its force a bit and not taking all the damage he could.

His words made me stunned for a moment..... Until I realized he was just messing with me!

«It's a standard move in any tournament! - I said indignantly, sipping a sip of fortified wine from the wine jug hanging on my belt. - Only losers like this Frey, who has defeated his previous opponents, can't do that!

Felix only smiled at my words, making me realize one thing - this Zastranian knows something about this mysterious knight and is openly laughing about it. As if I should have guessed something, but I still haven't... Who are you, Knight of the Winter Rose?

«Tu-du-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u.

-Ba-ba-ba-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

«Tu-du-du-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u.

-Ba-ba-ba-h...

While I was pondering the identity of this knight, the two riders had already managed to cross and break their spears twice, and were now coming in for another run. It became clear how Frey had managed to last so long in the tournament - he had already been hit three times with all his might in the shield, and he hadn't even staggered. Phenomenal endurance. But the dark horse couldn't say that about him - the small figure of the rider was already staggering and couldn't hold the lance as firmly as he had at the beginning.

"It will all be decided by this hitch." - A thought flashed through my mind, forcing me to concentrate as hard as possible and look carefully at what was happening in the arena.

«Tou-du-du-du-du-du-du-du-du!!!!

The roar of the trumpet seemed deafening to me this time, as if even it realized that this was the last chance for the little knight to snatch victory. He wouldn't survive two more blows.

With only 10 feet left to collide, time habitually slowed down for me, as if I was in the heat of battle, giving me a chance to see every detail of the fight in progress.

8...

Here Frey began to drive his lance back and forth, trying to disrupt his opponent's concentration.

6...

It became clear that the little rider was not affected by these efforts....

4...

So Frey stopped his spear at the level of his solar plexus, planning to deliver an almost always fail-safe strike and knock his weakened opponent out of the saddle.

"Victory for him" - Already I thought....

2...

Suddenly, just inches before the collision, as the horse pushed off the ground with all four legs, the mysterious knight sharply raised his lance to the level of the head of Frey, who was not expecting such a thing.

0...

-Shanda-rah!!!!!

The blow was so strong that the lance shattered into splinters, throwing the stunned Frey out of the saddle, who managed to swipe the edge of his spear across the shield of the Knight of the Winter Rose.

«And our last winner for today is the mysterious Knight of the Winter Rose! - The shout of the steward was almost drowned out by the enthusiastic roar of the crowd who saw a rare battle of equals. It's not often you find opponents who are on the same skill level and can put on a good show.

«Here come the pursuers. - I heard Felix's voice and, following his gaze, saw several men with red three-headed dragons on their doublets rush out of the crowd after the knight, who had sent an air kiss to the stands. The king's men. It was of little use, though - the joyous crowd raged too much and knightly solidarity too firm to catch the escaped rider.

«My friend, why is this little knight being chased by Aerys' subordinates? - My question made Felix, who had already stood up and was about to go, freeze and throw his traditional "stop drinking so much, you damned alcoholic" look at me.

«Aerys, when he saw that rider the first day, thought he was Jaime Lannister, whom he'd sent to King's Landing to guard Queen Reila. So he sent men after him. - Said Fel, standing up and adjusting his shirsey, which was wrinkled at the sides. - Later it turned out that Lannister was still on his way to King's Landing and that knight was someone else, so the search stopped. But no official order to end them was given by our jerkish king, so a few unfortunates are still carrying it out for fear of incurring the monarch's wrath.

The words made my shoulders shake and I yelped almost immediately, clutching my stomach in pain. This situation was too funny and strange, arising from the suspiciousness and stupidity of my sister's father-in-law.

"It's a little scary though." - I thought as I laughed and sat back in my chair normally, watching as people started running around the ring, preparing it for the upcoming general fight. - Hopefully Aerys' madness will bypass Rhaegar's, or Elia will have a very hard time. What do you think, Fel?

Turning my head I saw only two empty chairs where two Temperaments used to sit, gone while I had to fight laughter.

"What an asshole," I thought, turning my head toward the arena being prepared.

***

P.O.V. LeannaStark.

«It hurts!!!

«Be patient, my lady. If you don't do anything about it now, it'll be worse later.

«Ay-yi-yi-yay! But it really hurts! I haven't had this many bruises since I fell off my horse years ago! - Another pressure, rubbing the herbal-smelling ointment harder and harder into my aching ribs, almost made my eyes sparkle.

«Then you shouldn't have participated. My lady, you're a young girl! It is not proper for such fragile creatures to participate in the fights of sunset dorks. - A woman with curly black hair and a tan beyond even Dornish tan continued to wail. According to Temper, her name was Mara and she was a native of Meereen. I had only read about that city in the distant Bay of Traders in the Winterfell Library's geographical atlases, and under other circumstances, when those thin and long, but very firm and strong, fingers were not forcefully rubbing a nasty, stinging medicine into my bruises, I would have asked how the people lived there.

«Shall I come in? - I heard the voice of the man who'd caused my bruises and bruises for the second day.

«Wait a moment, my lord! We're almost done. - Mara shouted and began to rub the ointment into me with even greater zeal.

«Ow! It hurts! It hurts so much! Hwa-a-ati-it!.....

So in a few minutes Temper was allowed to enter to see a disgruntled me sitting on a recliner in a light blue dress, and Mara washing her hands in a designated basin.

«You did very well, Lady Stark. I must admit I was nervous at the end when you had your last encounter with that Frey. But you did it in a way that not every skilled knight can. - I didn't listen to his praise, busy tying the ribbons of my sandals along my calves and thinking about how to get out of here.

«Do you want something from me? - I asked with slight displeasure, and only now I looked at the enterprising and profiteering peddler. And I was surprised.

Temper, instead of his usual surcoat, pants, and light shirt, was wearing armor. Real battle armor. The battle cuirass, greaves, armor, armored collar, shoulder pads, elbow pads, and kneepads glistened clean and reflected the rare rays of light that penetrated the tent. Complete with a height that overtook mine by a head and a half and a shoulder width as wide as my fiancé's, Lord Osgiliata made a very strong impression. And if I remembered that his armor hardly rattled at all and that he walked no louder than any other man, it was clear that he was used to it.

"Very well accustomed," I thought, looking not at the peddler and cunning lord I had taken Temper for before, but at the warrior. A very dangerous warrior.

«Your brother can no longer hold back the rest of the family. - I was brought out of my slight daze by Temper's voice as he approached Mara and handed her a few silver coins. - We must hurry.

«Sure. - I agreed and quickly walked out of the tent, following the man who had gone ahead. - "It's a wonder Eddard was able to hold them off at all."

It didn't take long to get to the right place, where a slightly angry older brother was waiting for me. Edd knew of my venture and at the beginning he had long discouraged me from "not getting involved with the scarcely known rogues," but in the end he gave in, as he always did. My big brother was never good at saying no to me.

Eddard rushed forward as soon as he saw me, and when he was sure I was all right, he sighed in relief and glared at Temper as if he wanted to burn him on the spot. The Dornian didn't even blink. So soon I was sitting in my bed, under the disapproving glances of my parents and older brothers, fighting off Benjen, who was trying to find out why I'd been gone so long.

«Toodoo, toodoo, toodoo... Toodoo...

The loud roar of trumpets, which silenced all conversations in the boxes, stands, and places for commoners, announced the beginning of the next event of the tournament.

General combat.

«Ladies and Lords! - The high and a bit nasty voice of the steward waves over the arena, which had recently been a ring. - Let me announce the beginning of a new stage of our beautiful tournament! A common fight! And not a simple one! By popular demand of some participants, this competition will be the most brutal and spectacular of all possible. Catfight!

The roar of the crowd was deafening and sent a wave of excitement through my soul. If I hadn't been bruised halfway down my body and tired from training the day before yesterday, I'd have been screaming as loudly as Benjen, who was sitting next to me.

"It must have been Robert's idea," I thought, watching Baratheon, in his famous horned helmet, be the first to step onto the sand of the arena and wave his warhammer cheerfully to the cheering crowd. - "He always loved this kind of thing."

More and more participants stepped onto the sand of the arena, to the loud comments of the steward announcing the name, title and merit of the knight.

«He had come here from the sultry sands of the desert. A successful merchant who made an unprecedented fortune and became Lord Vassal of the Martell family at such a young age. I can't wait to see if his martial prowess is as good as his salesmanship! Ladies and lords, I give you Lord Felix Temper of the Valley of the Solar Flame. - Every person entering the ring was greeted by a storm of applause, regardless of their title or background. But I could tell from the intensity of the clapping for the Dornishman that most of the lords here were not very friendly to him. But it didn't reflect on Tempera, who was kneading his hands with a large battle axe.

"Nobody likes an upstart," I thought, almost deafened when Sword of Dawn Erthur Dane stepped out onto the sand.

The contestants came out for a few more minutes, to the cheers of the crowd. The Hayes, Ockharts, Grimms, Mullendors, Swanns, Mertins, and dozens of other crests unknown to me flashed on the surcoats of the knights entering the arena.

The only one who managed to catch my attention was the head of the small knightly house of Kold. Judging by the snowflakes on his coat of arms and the short ponytail of blond hair peeking out from under his armor, he was the one who had been with Temper on the day of the feast.

«They are brothers. - Eddard's voice sounded nearby, making me jump with fright. Seeing my puzzled face, my brother continued. - Felix Temper is Aerys Cold's younger brother. He left home as a child, became rich, and became a lord in Dorne. - My gaze turned suspicious. - And don't give me that look! I should have known something about him after your prank.

Thank the Old Gods he said the last words in a whisper, or else Brandon and Benjen would have been listening.

«To and fro.

A blaring horn signaled that all the participants were gathered and the fight was about to begin. I quickly looked around the crowd of nearly a hundred people and found the people I was interested in. The Western brothers (not Dornish, as I had thought) stood shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the arena, waiting for the start.

«Dear friends!" Walter Went stood up from his seat, which was on the same level as the royal family's, and shouted across the arena, turning all sounds into silence and making all the warriors in the arena tense. One more word and... - Let the general battle begin!

«Toodoo, toodoo, toodoo!!!!!

«Clink-clink-clink-clink... Bang-bang....

«Aaaaaaaaah!

Swords, axes, hammers, spears... all of these were instantly used for their intended purpose. Blades smashed against blades, breaking or chipping, axes opened steel breastplates like lion-turtle shells of swamp turtles, spears, finding weak points in the armor, were thrust at people like stakes at criminals... What Robert's hammer did, throwing unlucky opponents several meters in different directions, I'm not talking at all.

The fight quickly turned into a massacre, showering the already not the whitest of sands with blood.

"And they like it?" - I thought, seeing the knight with the shooting star on his surcoat smack his opponent flat on the helmet, sending him into the realm of dreams. And turning around, I realized that I did. I like it.

Almost all of the southern lords, along with their ladies, almost bouncing on the spot, with undisguised joy at the horror going on in the arena. And ashamed to admit it, most of our vassals were not much different from them. The same joyful eyes, shaking hands, and loud cries of joy or grief when their challenger was eliminated.

The only exception was Prince Rhaegar, who sat next to his wife as a mute statue, glaring disapprovingly at what was going on around him.

Suddenly our gazes met, and I realized that I had almost drowned in those purple lakes... They were too beautiful and deep, like a vast abyss of the sea calling to you and not letting you drown.

I barely managed to tear my gaze away from the prince's eyes, which had become a little cheerful and warm, because if we were spotted, we'd be in trouble. I remained calm on the outside, but inside I was shaking. That feeling of heat rising from somewhere deep inside me was getting stronger and stronger, and as soon as I looked at the prince with a glance, everything inside me seemed to flare up.

"What's wrong with me?" - I thought, and to distract myself I looked at what was happening at the ring.

The situation there hadn't changed much. The number of warriors, halved, all continued to slowly dwindle under the constant blows of foreign guns, and the bodies bleeding or unconscious, slowly dragged away by squires, trying not to get hit by a stray blow. But already three "islands of calm" had formed. In the first, Baratheon was rampaging with his giant hammer, breaking shields, swords, ribs, and arms.

In the second, Erthur Dane danced his battle dance, the last of the remaining Kingsguard, Oswell Went, was struck on the breastplate by Robert, and Jonothor Darry, who had been struck on the head with a sword by one of the Tully knights, lay unconscious beneath a pile of unmolested bodies. The Sword of Dawn fully lived up to its reputation - with its two-handed sword, a replica of the famous Dawn, it showed the very facet that our weapons master once told me about, when combat becomes not a matter of memorized moves and tactics hammered out by teachers, but an art where every movement, every step, every muscle contraction is part of something more than a simple battle.

The third circle, unsurprisingly, formed around the Kold brothers. They, masterfully combining attacks with a heavy axe and a half sword, knocked out their opponents without much strain. Before my eyes, a poor alliance of five knights tried to attack them. So the Westerners knocked them out in a matter of minutes, getting only a couple of scratches on their armor. Ice and Flame, cleverly combining heavy axe and swift sword attacks, dealt with all attacks effortlessly.

"I thought to myself, watching the dark horses of this fight with interest.

And the fight was gaining momentum. The remaining knights, realizing that they will not get anything if these four monsters remain in the line, began to unite in small alliances, in order to knock the favorites out of the game. But their efforts were in vain. Even I know that attacking unorganized mobs against masters of their craft is only making it easier for them.

So soon there were piles of moaning or unconscious bodies lying around Sword of Dawn, the Kolda-Temper duo, and Robert, slowly being dragged away by their squires. The only one who got more or less was my fiancé, whose armor was covered with dozens of scratches and potholes, but it didn't affect him much. On the contrary - the longer he fought, the stronger he became. A true northern berserker.

The four formed a triangle, each standing at an equal distance from the other. There was a pause where the fighters were recovering their breath and preparing for their final run.

"It all depends on whether the Stormcaller and the Dornian unite and whether they can defeat the working pair" - I thought, watching every movement of the knights on the ring.

And then something happened that made me and all the spectators open their eyes wide in surprise. The duo of Westerners, who alone could have defeated the two remaining competitors, after talking about something, sharply separated, standing opposite their chosen opponents.

Aeris Kold, raising his sword to the sky in an eagle stance, against the smiling and two-handed Sword of Dawn, Ertur Dane, who grasped his blade.

And Felix Temper, tapping his axe in the palm of his hand, against Robert Baratheon grinning through the slit in his helmet.

The general fight, which had already yielded more than a few surprises, turned sharply into two duels with an unknown outcome.

***

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