Kapitel 11: Chapter 11
Steffon drew back the bowstring and released. The arrow flew straight and true into the center of the target in front of him. The crowd cheered for the Prince; it was always exciting to see a member of the royal family do well. Steffon looked over to one of the stands to see his beautiful betrothed clapping and smiling. He smiled back at her, that one action conveying a thousand words.
The archery contest had been going on since mid-morning, and was considered a side event to the jousting, the main event. Most had already left to see the initial tilts, and only a few had stayed to watch the archery. No matter; Steffon had thought. Never liked crowds anyway.
His opponent released his own arrow, and it hit one of the inner circles. Steffon had won this match. He shook hands with his opponent, then went off to find Arya. There was a twenty minute break before the final, so he had some time to spare. He found her standing near the entrance to one of the stands. The couple hugged tightly (it was their standard greeting by this point) before breaking apart.
"That was amazing Steffon! You'll win for sure!" Arya beamed.
"I'm not so certain, Arya. That Anguy bloke's been out-archering everyone." Steffon replied.
"Out-archering? Didn't know that was a word." Arya said, smiling a little.
"Well, it is now." Steffon responded, hugging Arya again.
"Well I am glad you two are getting along." Said someone. The two broke from their hug to see none other than Queen Cersei herself approaching them.
"Mother, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you'd be over at the jousting." Steffon said, moving his hand to hold Arya's, who didn't resist. Cersei stopped herself from flashing a look at her son.
"I had heard that you had made the archery final. Why would I not support my son?" She asked rhetorically. The young couple looked at each other before shrugging. Arya didn't exactly have a soft spot for the Queen, but it wasn't her place to stop his mother from attending.
"Well we do have a short break before the final, mother. Shall we walk in my tent?" He asked. Cersei nodded, and followed her son to his tent.
The courtyard at Ironrath rang with the sound of steel on steel. Rodrik Forrester, the heir to Ironrath, was sparring with Gared Tuttle, the squire to Ironrath's lord, Gregor Forrester. Watching from the side was Ironrath's Master-at-Arms, Ser Royland Degore, Duncan Tuttle, Gared's uncle and Ironrath's Castellan, the Forrester children, Ethan, Ryon and Talia, Elissa Forrester, the Lady of Ironrath, and Lord Forrester himself.
Gared parried an incoming attack from Rodrik before attempting a counterattack, to which Rodrik parried in kind before elbowing Gared in the gut, knocking him to the ground. He pointed the blade of the dull practice sword at Gared's throat.
"You're getting better, Gared, but you've still got a long way to go." Rodrik said, helping Gared up.
"Give it time, and I'll be better than you, Rodrik!" Gared joked.
"Maybe when Robert Baratheon's secondborn is King!" Rodrik joked back. The two Northmen laughed momentarily, before heading off. Gared needed to tend to Ironbreaker, the ancestral greatsword of House Forrester. The weapon was not made of Valyrian steel like the Starks' greatsword, Ice, but it was still exceptionally sharp; it was said the Forresters had wielded it since the times when the North was divided into dozens of petty kingdoms.
Gared found Ironbreaker in the armoury. He broke out a cloth and began cleaning the weapon. He found it strangely therapeutic; cleaning Ironbreaker. One day, he'd hopefully own a sword just like it.
"Gared?" He heard someone ask. He turned around to see Talia standing in the doorway to the armoury.
"You shouldn't be here, Talia. Armoury's not a place for ladies." He said.
"I don't care. You're actually getting pretty good with a sword, Gared. You nearly outfought Rodrik just then!"
"Rodrik's this house's best fighter by far. Like he said, the day I'll be better than him is the day King Robert's secondborn succeeds him." Gared responded. Talia chuckled lightly. He smiled at her gently, to which she smiled back. The two were sharing a tender moment until Bowen, being his usual self, interrupted them.
"Oi! Gared! Lord Forrester wants you." Bowen said.
"Alright Bowen, I'm coming." Gared replied. He set the huge sword back on its rack, and walked out of the armoury, flashing another smile at Talia, causing her to blush slightly.
Anguy and Steffon were eventually called out for the final. After a short kiss, Steffon headed onto the field and Arya, along with Cersei headed to the stands. Steffon grabbed his longbow, quiver of arrows and headed onto the field. Anguy was already set up. The judge had them shake hands and then move to their respective position.
Anguy was the first to shoot. He nocked his arrow, drew back the bowstring, and released. The arrow landed dead center of Anguy's target, prompting a polite clap from the crowd. Steffon nocked, drew and released his first arrow, which also landed in the center.
This remained the pattern for the next 18 arrows. The two's arrows wold both hit the bullseye of the target. Until Anguy made a small mistake. He'd drawn back his bowstring, but held it for too long at full draw. When he released it, it skewed off to the side a fraction, colliding with the innermost circle. All Steffon had to do now was hit the bullseye and he'd won the archery contest. He nocked his twentieth and final arrow, drew back the string, and loosed the arrow. It flew straight and true, actually splitting one of his previous arrows in half. Steffon looked stunned; splitting an arrow with another arrow was virtually unheard of, and was a one-in-a-million shot. The small crowd cheered for the Prince.
Anguy came up to shake the Prince's hand. "No-one's ever managed to outshoot me before. My congratulations, my Prince." He said.
"Mine too, Anguy; you've performed well all day." Steffon replied.
"You did better. Not to mention that you actually managed to split an arrow. It's said that splitting an arrow is a skill only the greatest marksmen achieve. You've definitely earned your place among them today, my Prince." Anguy said. Steffon bowed his head at the praise. The judge then came up and presented the trophy to Steffon: A golden arrow, with stag's antlers forming the point. Not wanting to stick around for the elongated ceremony, Steffon left quickly, encountering Arya and his mother while leaving.
"Steffon, that was amazing!" Said Arya. She gave him a gentle peck on the lips in congratulations. Cersei forced a smile at them.
"Yes, very well done my son. Your father would be proud, if he were here." Said Cersei. Steffon suppressed a sigh. His mother never missed a chance to try and show up his father.
"Father is at the jousting mother. It would be wrong for the King to be anywhere else." He countered. She smiled at him again before excusing herself. As she was leaving Arya frowned slightly. "What's wrong, Arya?" He asked.
"Your mother and I . . . Steffon, we just don't get along." She replied.
"What? Why?"
Arya took a deep breath and recounted their conversation during the final . . .
During the archery final
Arya and Cersei had taken their seats right up the front row. Arya knew that Sansa was at the jousting; her silly little tales of knights in shining armour making her giggle a little, especially when she thought about the time when Steffon had told her where the term "knight in shining armour" came from. He'd explained that the term was actually meant as an insult to newly-minted knights, whose armour would be bright and shining, thus displaying that they hadn't gone into battle yet.
"Do you love my son, Lady Arya?" She heard Cersei ask. Arya turned to the Queen of Westeros.
"Um . . . I'm not sure." She responded, confused. Yes she did have strong feelings for Steffon, and she had developed them in a short time. She wasn't quite sure what they were yet though, and figuring them out was a lot harder than she thought it was going to be. it was like those stupid love stories that Sansa was so fond of.
"I don't think that the answer Steffon wants." Cersei said. "I happen to think you're just marrying him to take advantage of his kind nature; either that or you just don't want to upset your father." She continued, rather cruelly. "Either way, you're not very happy with this marriage, that I can tell." She finished, twisting the metaphorical knife a little more. If I had Needle with me . . . Arya thought.
"You're wrong! I do care for your son, a lot.." Arya responded. Gods, I sound like Sansa she thought. Oh well, she never had a problem with telling the truth. True, she hadn;t been happy with the arragnement to begin with, but Steffon had been nothing but kind to her since they'd met in Winterfell. He hadn't forced anything either. She knew for her mother's talks with her that such a thing would be expected. Her mother and father's relationship was a rare one, that much she did know; what had started as a practical arrangement to secure House Tully's support for Robert's Rebellion had become a genuine love match. Was she hoping for the same with Steffon? Maybe.
"I doubt that. You two avoided each other like the plague when your betrothal was announced in Winterfell."
"That was months ago! We've come a long way since then!" Arya said, her voice rising. Cersei laugh humourlessly.
"No couple could have come that far in mere months." She said. For her and Robert, it'd never happened.
"You're wrong. I do have feelings for your son! I don't know what those feelings are, but I am only 14 and no boy's ever paid attention to me before. I was always Arya Horseface or some other stupid name they'd come up with for me. You wouldn't know what that's like though; you've always had men lusting after you. Say what you like, do what you want; I don't care! " Arya's tirade left Cersei momentarily stunned. She hadn't expected this famously wild Northern girl to come up with such a defence of her feelings for Steffon.
The two turned back to the final, just in time to see Steffon split the arrow. Arya was smirking triumphantly; her betrothed had won the archery contest and she had successfully defended her feelings about Steffon. What was there not to be happy about?
"That's not right. My mother shouldn't be speaking to you like that, Arya." Steffon said, concerned for his betrothed.
"No harm done. If she does try to drive a wedge between us, then she's going to have a hard time of it." She responded. Steffon chuckled; he hoped Arya would never lose that side of her. He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers, to which she responded. Just as the kiss began to get a little heated, they were interrupted by a fake cough.
Steffon, Arya; I've been asked to escort you to the jousting." Said Jon, a small smirk on his face. The two joined their hands and followed Jon to the jousting area, taking a seat with the Starks. Steffon didn't want to sit near his mother or brother; not after the confrontation that had occurred between Arya and his mother.
The two were meant to be watching the jousts, but really, they spent more time kissing and talking gently to each other than watching. Ned and Robert had both noticed with approval that the two were getting closer. Sansa meanwhile, reacted with typical arrogance, barely even noticing them.
Dragonstone, Blackwater Bay
Stannis Baratheon sat in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Despite what people thought of him, the Lord of Dragonstone did have an admiration for history's great works, and to this day day, found himself often marvelling at the Painted Table; after all, Aegon had used it to plan the War of Conquest, nearly 300 years ago. He found it oddly calming; sort of like his nephew's fondness for wearing padded armour a lot of the time. We all have our quirks, I suppose, he thought.
"My Lord," Said someone. Stannis snapped his head up to see none other than Ser Davos Seaworth approaching him, holding a letter in his hand.
"Ser Davos. What is it?" Stannis asked.
"A raven from King's Landing. I . . . I was unable to read it, my Lord, so I brought it to you." Davos answered. Stannis took the letter and read it.
"My nephew Steffon and his betrothed will be joining us within a few days, Ser Davos. They're being accompanied by Ser Barristan Selmy and this . . . Jon Snow; Eddard Stark's bastard son. They'll wait out the tourney, then board a ship that'll bring them here."
"Well anyone else be accompanying them, my Lord?"
"A handful of Stark and Baratheon guardsmen. And this . . . Syrio Forel. A Braavosi swordmaster, apparently hired by Steffon to teach his betrothed the art of swordfighting." Stannis said, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.
"I've never heard of a woman wanting to fight, my Lord." Davos said.
"Aegon the Conqueror's sisters fought at his side." Stannis replied.
"So your daughter tells me, my Lord. If you'll pardon me my Lord, I'd best be going."
"Of course, Ser Davos." Stannis replied. Davos bowed and left, leaving Stannis to his thoughts. Shireen will be overjoyed to see Steffon again, he thought.
But what of Lord Arryn's death? A voice in his head asked him. That was the real question. Lord Arryn had discovered something in his final days; Stannis knew it. He just couldn't put his finger on it.
And another chapter gone! So we get the first appearances from House Forrester and Stannis. Just FYI, the Forresters will feature prominently in this story, largely due to their Ironwood and because I like them :)
So, Cersei and Arya have their first conversation; Stannis discovers when Steffon intends to visit; we have a budding romance between Gared and Talia (yes I interpreted that from their interactions in the game and will not apologise for pairing them together); Steffon wins the archery contest; and season 1 Sansa is still very much season 1 Sansa.
And finally . . . #thestarksarebackintown
Auf wiedersehen!
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