Silver Stag

The Hand's Tourney

Today was the beginning of the tourney in honour of Lord Stark's new position as hand.

Interestingly enough, he was one of the few who felt it was unnecessary. So unnecessary he had yet to show his face.

Nonetheless, the event was carrying on as if he had.

The stands were full and the Royal family sat on a dais in the centre of the festivities, Barristan Selmy and The Hound standing guard, as well as Robert Lannister.

The Stark sisters were sat with their Septa, waiting for the joust to begin.

Sansa attempted to catch the Prince's attention, sending him a smile when their eyes met. Unfortunately it was not reciprocated. Instead the prince scowled before looking away.

"Lover's quarrel?" A man, unknown to Sansa, asked, walking up.

"I'm sorry. Do I...?"

"Sansa dear, this is Lord Baelish. He's known..." Septa Mordane moved to answer.

"An old friend of the family. I've known your mother a long, long time." Littlefinger interrupted before taking a seat beside Sansa.

"Why do they call you Littlefinger?" Arya asked.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted, embarrassed.

"Don't be rude!" Septa Mordane scolded.

"No, it's quite all right. When I was a child, I was very small. And I come from a little spit of land called the Fingers, so you see, it's an exceedingly clever nickname."

"Start the damn joust before I piss myself!" The king shouted, causing his wife to stalk off, clearly embarrassed.

Unfortunate as it was, his children were used to his behaviour. Also, they didn't have the same privilege as the mother, who could leave to avoid further embarrassment, exactly as she had done.

The first competitor rode up, a huge knight in dark grey armor.

"Gods, who is that?" Sansa asked.

"Ser Gregor Clegane. They call him the Mountain. The Hound's older brother." Littlefinger answered.

If anyone could rival the hatred Sandor had for his older brother, it was the Princess Aelinor.

It disgusted her how men like him and Amory Lorch could keep their knighthood and lives after the brutal, senseless slaying of Rhaegar Targaryen's young children.

His opponent rode up next.

"And his opponent?" Sansa asked.

"Ser Hugh of the Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire. Look how far he's come."

Ser Hugh and The Mountain bowed before the king, as was tradition.

"Yes, yes. Enough of the bloody pomp. Have at it!" Robert commanded.

A servant blews a horn to signify the beginning of the joust.

The first pass takes its course with no contact. However, on the second pass, when The Mountain approached Ser Hugh, he drove his lance through his neck, knocking him off his horse.

Sansa shrieked in horror, and the rest of the crowd looked on, shocked. Most notably Robert, Arya and Septa Mordane.

Ser Hugh laid on the ground with a large splinter of wood stuck in his throat, coughing up blood for a few moments before finally dying.

The Hound stared at his elder brother with a forlorn look on his face as a pair of retainers grabbed Ser Hugh's body and took it off the track.

"Not what you were expecting?" Littlefinger whispered to Sansa. "Has anyone ever told you the story of the Mountain and the Hound? Lovely little tale of brotherly love. The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe. Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation. Some lucky boys just born with a talent for violence. One evening, Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the fire - Gregor 's toy, a wooden knight. Gregor nevr said a word, he just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there while the boy screamed, while his face melted. There aren't very many people who know that story."