During the Age of the First Men, weirwood trees were ubiquitous throughout Westeros. Then the Andals came and instilled their Seven as the country's dominant religion. As a result, the majority of the heart trees in the Seven Kingdoms were uprooted. The godswoods of the North were spared, but nearly all the ones south of the Neck had been destroyed.
Nevertheless, a few godswoods could be found in just about every other region in Westeros. An example was the one in the Stone Garden at Casterly Rock. Its weirwood was twisted and small for its size, but it was sufficient to serve its intended purpose
Three men and a young woman now stood before the godswood. Two were Northern lords. The younger had his back to the weirwood; the other stood to his right. The first had a direwolf on his attire; the second wore a bear on his doublet and the cloak around his shoulders. The third man was from Dorne, and he stood across from the elder of the Northmen. The young woman – who seemed more a girl – stood in-between them the bear lord and the Dornishman. The latter was obviously her father; aside from their similarity in appearance, the image of a spear impaling the Sun was found on both his robes and her cloak.
At that moment, there were only five other persons present in the Stone Garden. Two of them were exceptionally tall men, and they – along with the two women by their sides – bore the icons of mountain and three hounds on their clothing respectively.
The fifth individual had not been officially invited, but he had chosen to come anyway. There was nothing the other eight could really do to protest. They are in my home, after all.
Even so, he did not wish to disturb them, as he could imagine how much this event meant to the rest of them. So after he quietly entered the godswood, he climbed up the wall and sat on the balustrade that encircled the Stone Garden. Once he was comfortable, he witnessed the ceremony from his perch.
He observed as Lord Eddard Stark conducted the ceremony in the typical fashion of the Northmen. At one point, Prince Oberyn Martell removed the cloak of his house from his daughter Nymeria's shoulders. After that, Nymeria allowed Lord Jorah Mormont to drape the cloak of his own house around her.
More words were said by Lord Eddard, and then Lord Jorah and Princess Nymeria shared their first kiss as man and wife. In response, Prince Oberyn, Lord Gregor Clegane, Ser Sandor Clegane, and their wives Dacey of House Mormont and Obara of House Martell applauded.
The dwarf atop the bannister offered a few soft claps of his own.
A wondrous thing, marriage.
Tyrion Lannister had once given the concept some consideration himself. His friend Sandor Clegane had dissuaded him from going through with it. Although Tyrion had been a little resentful at first, he was grateful that the Hound had intervened now. Marrying a common girl would have been a huge mistake.
Tyrion knew his father would have found out sooner or later. His father always found those types of things out somehow. Once he learned of Tysha… it would have ended badly for Tyrion and worse for her.
At least now she's safe in the Rock's laundry rooms, and at least I learned what it was like to lay with a woman.
Then again, even if his episode with Tysha had been avoided, it appeared he would be destined to learn that experience anyway. Furthermore, it seemed he was destined to become a married man. Those were the plans his father had for him, at any rate.
Seeing the wedding ceremony, recalling his past with Tysha, and undertaking his potential future made Tyrion reflect more deeply on the topic of marriage.
Marriage suited some people rather well. In fact, there were some who said marriage was the best thing to ever happen to Lord Tywin Lannister.
And I was the worst.
Both the Mountain and the Hound had married outside of their homeland, but their marriages were clearly happy ones. One glance at Lord Gregor and Lady Dacey or Ser Sandor and Princess Obara, and Tyrion could easily surmise that much.
He predicted that Lord Jorah and his new wife would be likewise prosperous. He did not know the bear lord as well as he knew the two Clegane men. However, Tyrion's brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, respected Lord Jorah as a warrior, which by itself said something. Additionally, Jaime had told him how the betrothal between the Lord of Bear Island the former Sand Snake had come about.
Just the day before, Jorah Mormont had won the joust at Lannisport and crowned Nymeria Martell as his Queen of Love and Beauty. That same day, he had asked her father for her hand, and Oberyn Martell had been quick to give his blessing.
The wedding had been put together hastily, and it was shockingly modest by highborn standards. Luckily, neither the bride nor the groom were partial to extravagance.
Since Lord Jorah kept to the Old Gods, it was quickly decided that the wedding would be conducted in their manner. The only godswood to be found for over fifty miles was at Casterly Rock, so Lord Jorah had sought out Lord Tywin Lannister to request the usage of the Stone Garden. Eventually, Lord Tywin agreed to the bear lord's wish, but he demanded that as few people attend the ceremony as possible.
Of course, Father would say that a wedding only really needs a bride, a groom, the bride's father or guardian, and a minister.
Be that as it may, four guests had been permitted at this wedding. Dacey Mormont and Obara Martell had been allowed, as they were the only legitimate members of the groom and bride's immediate families. Since Lord Gregor and Ser Sandor were the ladies' respective husbands, they had been allowed to attend, as well.
Nymeria's bridal gown had been put together somewhat hastily, but she still looked very much the part of the bride. Once the ceremony was concluded, Obara Clegane made some playful remarks about Nymeria's current appearance. She seemed to derive a certain vindictive pleasure from ridiculing her younger half-sister on her formal apparel. It may have seemed cruel, but Nymeria did not deny her sister this "vengeance." Whatever that means.
The subsequent meal was as modest as the wedding. Lord Tywin had not given permission for a full-fledged feast to take place in the confines of the Rock. After all, neither the bride's family nor the groom's family were among his vassals. However, he did allow Lord Eddard, the Mormonts, the Cleganes, and the Martells a brief three-course meal at the Rock. The eight of them were given part of the Grand Hall after the Lannisters and their retainers had eaten.
They had brought most of their own food. Everything else, they had bought from the Lannisters. They had paid for the services of the Rock's cooks, as well. In any case, the small feast was sufficient for all eight of them.
It was during the second course that Tyrion chose to approach them. He waddled up to the trestle table that had been designated for the guests, and he casually inquired "Is everything to your liking?"
Most of them did not even notice him until he made that remark. He did not mind. He was used to not being spotted straightaway, seeing as there was less of him to spot than there was for most other men.
"It is, Tyrion," Sandor Clegane said appreciatively.
As the dwarf nodded at that, Eddard Stark proposed "Can we offer you a plate, my lord?"
"No," Tyrion responded, "I have already eaten. Still, know that I appreciate your asking, my lord. Most would not even afford me that courtesy."
"That mistake is their loss, denying themselves the pleasure of your company," Gregor Clegane cheekily remarked. Tyrion and a few of the others snickered, and the Mountain suggested "Even if you will not eat, would you sit with us anyway, my lord?"
"Certainly," Tyrion pronounced. The spot to Lord Gregor's right was vacant, so Tyrion climbed next to him. Once he was settled on the bench, he queried "Have you any more wine, perchance?"
Oberyn Martell passed him a jug of Dornish red. As Tyrion poured himself a goblet, the prince asked him "Did you enjoy the ceremony, my lord?"
For a moment, Tyrion was stunned. He had never made a sound in the Stone Garden. So I did not go totally unnoticed, after all.
The Imp's astonishment did not betray his facial expression. He merely sipped his wine, nodded his head, and stated "Yes, I did. Short, private, and eloquent. Reminds me of someone I know."
More laughter. Obara then said "There was no need for you to sneak in, my lord. We would have welcomed your company."
"I will remember that next time," Tyrion bluntly muttered, "And if you were wondering, no; I have no intention of showing up uninvited to the final event, as well."
Gregor, Dacey, Sandor, Obara, and Oberyn chortled at that. Nymeria gave a giggle, but Lord Jorah and Lord Eddard seemed indifferent. If anything, they were annoyed by that jape.
Tyrion looked back and forth between the eight individuals there. Recalling their origins, he got an idea to make a toast. He held his glass into the air and proclaimed "I would like to raise a glass for what has been accomplished here."
A few of the others reached for their mugs. They were the ones who were always willing to share a toast. The others stayed still; they were a little perplexed.
"Just what has been accomplished, my lord?" Dacey Mormont enquired.
Tyrion explicated "Ten years ago, the North, the Westerlands, and Dorne had absolutely nothing in common. Now one house from each of those regions has married into another house from the other two. If that does not warrant a toast, what does?"
No one could dispute that logic. Consequentially, everyone who had not picked up their own mugs did so and lifted them accordingly. This is excellent; I've gotten them to agree.
After the cups were drained and filled again, Nymeria murmured "I did not realize you were so interested in the relations between the Seven Kingdoms, my lord."
"Oh, I am interested in all manner of current affairs," Tyrion claimed, "Particularly those that may change the balance of the country."
"Is that why you came to the wedding?" Jorah presumed.
"It is partly why," Tyrion disclosed, "I also came to learn. It is not often the weirwood in the Stone Garden is put to use. I was curious to see how a wedding in the style of the Old Gods was carried out. As I said before, I enjoyed the experience."
"So did I," Nymeria giddily declared, "And before yesterday, I myself never thought I would ever even kneel before a heart tree, much less be wed in front of one. Yet I find the godswood strangely appealing. It has an air of simplicity and openness to it that a sept tends to lack."
"So do you plan to pay homage to the Old Gods or the New Gods?" Sandor queried.
"She's never really given much thought to either," Obara jested.
Nymeria rolled her eyes at her sister's remark. She answered the Hound's question with "Maybe the Old Gods. It would be intriguing to follow a different faith. Aside from that, Bear Island has no sept."
"One can be built," Jorah contended.
"I will keep that in mind, my lord," the former Sand Snake told her husband with a smile.
There was a bit of quietness, and then Tyrion looked to Eddard Stark and observed "On the subject of marriage contracts between regions, I have heard tell you yourself are in the process of forging one, Lord Eddard."
"You've been informed correctly," the wolf lord candidly affirmed, "I have spent the better part of the week conferring with Lord and Lady Tyrell on the possibility of a betrothal between their daughter and my son. After some lengthy discussion, we arrived at an arrangement. When Lady Margaery is of age, she will come north to meet my boy Robb. We will not decide to finalize the match until then. But in the meantime, no other contracts will be considered for either of them."
"Sounds like an ideal pact," Oberyn Martell professed, "Children should always be allowed the option to meet the one who is supposed to be their future intended."
The Mountain and the Hound would have to agree, given the plans my father has for their sister.
Either the two Clegane men could read his mind, or they were thinking similar thoughts. The dwarf noticed both of them flashing a glimpse in his direction. Neither of them seemed quizzical or suspicious of him, but they were not entirely empathetic, either.
I should count myself fortunate that Sandor regards me as a friend. Otherwise he and Lord Gregor might be giving me a warning about messing with their sister about now.
It was said that Gregor Clegane was twice the size of any other man. While that was mostly an exaggeration, it was literally true in Tyrion's case. If he stood on the shoulders of another dwarf of similar stature, he and the Mountain would be of a height.
Although Tyrion was accustomed to looking up at everyone else, even he could not ignore the Mountain's conspicuous size. Still, he did not forget that Gregor Clegane had a reputation for being an abnormally tolerant man, and although he was capable of inflicting great carnage, he was only violent towards those who wronged him or others.
Long as I do no wrong, I should be safe.
Soon the second course was cleared away and it was replaced with the third. Tyrion decided to indulge himself with some more wine and a cup of berries and cream.
"By the way, Tyrion," Sandor mentioned as he bit into a cherry tart, "I was surprised to not see you at the jousting competition."
The dwarf looked to the tall man with the half-burned face and pronounced "It happens that I actually did see the joust. I simply was not there in person."
Upon seeing the confused looks the others gave him, Tyrion illuminated "If you go to the very top of the Rock, you get a very fine view of Lannisport. The whole of the tourney grounds is visible from up there. With the use of a far-eyes, I could clearly make out the jousting field. I witnessed the entire competition from that vantage point. It was quite a spectacle, I must say."
Particularly the ending.
"Ingenious approach," Prince Oberyn remarked approvingly, "Now you know what it's like to see from a bird's perspective."
"Still, would it not have been more practical to take a place in the stands?" Eddard Stark debated.
"Yes, it would have," Tyrion glumly conceded, "Alas, certain factors prevented me from appearing."
Factors that could not be altered. Or reasoned with.
Gregor Clegane seemed to catch on to that implication. He presumed "Would one of these factors by any chance have the approximate size and appearance of your brother, only without either of his swords?"
"That is the main factor," Tyrion confirmed.
Dacey Mormont looked somewhat baffled. "What do you mean?"
"He is referring to Queen Cersei," Lord Gregor informed his wife.
Tyrion Lannister nodded and clarified "My sister and I do not get along."
"They never have," Oberyn Martell disclosed, "I can attest to that."
Tyrion made a note to question the Dornishman on that statement later. In any case, it was true. From the day he was born, Cersei Lannister had despised him. She blamed him for the death of their lady mother, Joanna Lannister. So did their father. Despite his attempts to win their affections, they had never forgiven him.
Fortunately, not every member of Tyrion's immediately family held such disdain for him. His uncles Kevan and Gerion had always treated him fairly, and his brother Jaime had been closer to him than any other person he had met.
Strangely enough, in these days, Jaime too seemed closer to Tyrion than he was to anyone else in their lives. That included their sister.
Once, Jaime and Cersei had been nigh on inseparable. Only Tyrion knew just how close the two of them really were. But ever since Cersei married King Robert Baratheon, a distance had formed between his elder twin siblings. From what Tyrion could gather, the Kingslayer and the Queen hardly even spoke to each other anymore. He would not go so far as to say he was the favorite of Cersei's brothers, but Jaime was not very far ahead of him.
I do not envy Jaime. Spending the last five years guarding someone you once loved but now resent and who resents you in return… that cannot be pleasant.
"The Queen will not be present at the melee, my lord," Jorah Mormont apprised the Imp, "Perhaps you could attend that."
"I just might," Tyrion supposed, shrugging and taking another drink of wine.
"Our lady sister will be there, too," Sandor added in.
At that, Tyrion abruptly stopped chewing his tart and sat totally still. He slowly turned his head towards the Hound, gazing at him in astonishment. THAT came out of nowhere.
Gregor noticed the expression on Tyrion's face, and he inquired "Were you hoping to avoid that topic?"
Yes.
"No," Tyrion claimed, "But I did not anticipate it would be addressed at this very moment, either."
"It would have to be addressed at some point," Obara pointed out.
"True enough," Tyrion coincided, "But tonight should be for your sister and Lord Jorah."
"I appreciate that, my lord," Nymeria said gratefully, "But you should know I do not care to be the center of attention very much."
"Neither do I, as it happens," Jorah Mormont remarked.
"Well, I myself am rarely the center of attention," Tyrion disclosed, "I will confess; there are times when I'd love to be. But this is not one of them."
Everyone quickly understood his meaning. They dropped the subject of Ellyn Clegane's future whereabouts and resumed the dessert course.
Fifteen minutes later, the dishes and cups were cleared away by the servants. It was then that Lord Gregor, Lord Jorah, Lord Eddard, Sandor, Oberyn, Dacey, Obara, and Nymeria prepared to take their leave of Casterly Rock. Tyrion elected to accompany them to the stables.
"A pity you couldn't stay the night," Tyrion commented.
"Lord Tywin did not extend us that hospitality," Eddard informed him. Ever the courteous host, my father.
"Besides, we've all some form of business to see to tonight," Gregor revealed.
"Of course, some of us will be mixing business with pleasure," Obara uttered, gesturing to the bear lord and the younger former Sand Snake.
Nymeria and Lord Jorah walked at the front of the group. They had missed Obara's gesture, but they could tell she was referring to the two of them.
"At least we were able to forgo the bedding ceremony," Jorah thought aloud.
"I would not say 'at least,' my lord," Obara debated, "In Dorne, the bedding is actually taken more seriously than the wedding."
"Then perhaps you and I should travel to your homeland sometime," Sandor slyly proposed to his wife, wrapping his arm around her waist. Obara just giggled at her husband's playful suggestion and placed her own arm around his shoulders.
Nymeria stepped up to her own husband and stated sensually "In the meantime, we should make haste for our tent, my lord."
Well, someone is eager.
Lord Jorah must have thought the same. He muttered softly "Why the rush? The night is young."
Those should be House Nymeros Martell's words.
"It took us nearly five hours to climb the Rock," Nymeria recounted.
"We were going uphill," Gregor reminded her, "That is how long the ascent generally takes. The descent only requires about half that time."
"Even so, it could still be past midnight by the time we clear the Rock," Nymeria pointed out, "Not to mention we'll need more time to reach the camps. Once we arrive there, we may only have three or four hours before sunrise."
Hardly enough time for a proper bedding by Dornish standards.
"If you are concerned we will run short on time, we could put off the bedding until tomorrow," Jorah offered.
"Not a chance, my lord," Nymeria wryly stated, "What kind of Dornishwoman would I be if I did not consummate my marriage on the same day as my wedding?"
Jorah scoffed at his young wife's point and murmured "A fair argument."
Before long, the nine people arrived at the stables. The stableboys dipped their heads to Tyrion respectfully, and then they helped the other eight with their horses. Lord Eddard Stark, Prince Oberyn Martell, Lord Gregor Clegane, Lady Dacey Clegane, Ser Sandor Clegane, Lady Obara Clegane, Lord Jorah Mormont, and Lady Nymeria Mormont all swiftly mounted their rides. Tyrion merely stood off to the side and watched as they began to head out.
Lord Eddard, Prince Oberyn, Lady Dacey, Lady Obara, Lord Jorah, and Lady Nymeria proceeded down the long cobblestone path that ran all the way down to the Lion's Mouth.
The Mountain and the Hound did not join them straightaway, but instead lingered behind for a minute. They brought their horses over to where Tyrion was.
As they neared him, Tyrion noticed how absolutely massive both of them looked whilst mounted, particularly in the case of Lord Gregor. If he thought the Lord of Moat Cailin was exceptionally tall on his feet, he was practically a giant out of legend ahorse.
If he was just a little higher, I'd probably have to lend him my far-eyes in order for him to see me.
"So, can we expect you at the melee, my lord?" Gregor assumed.
Tyrion thought for a minute, shrugged, and proclaimed "Yes, you can. Can I expect you both to be there, as well?"
"Of course," Sandor remarked, "We'll be there as participants."
"But our lord father and lady mother will be there as spectators," Gregor amended.
"So will Ellyn," Sandor pronounced.
That again. At least this time they waited until we were alone to bring it up.
"I hope she enjoys the experience," Tyrion commented candidly.
"Oh, she will," Gregor asserted, "You should know she is looking forward to meeting you, Tyrion."
For the second time that evening, the Imp was taken by surprise. This time, he did not hide his astonishment so well. He could not be blamed; no one had ever expressed a wish to make his acquaintance before. Someone may falsely claim to have such an interest as a cruel joke at his expense, but as far as Tyrion knew, the Cleganes would not mislead him.
"Truly?" Tyrion asked skeptically.
"Truly," Sandor confirmed, a grin across his scarred face, "Queer as it may seem, this is the first time she's ever had such a strong desire to meet anyone."
That could either be good or bad on my part. If Lady Ellyn is anything like her brothers, it's most likely good.
"In that case…" Tyrion tentatively began, "Tell her I eagerly anticipate our first encounter, as well."
"She'll be delighted to know that, my lord," Gregor disclosed.
Tyrion smiled slightly, gave a small salute to the two large men, and pronounced in an official tone "Until next we meet."
The Mountain and the Hound bade the Imp a good evening and departed from the stable yard. Tyrion kept his eye on them as they regrouped with their six companions. After that, they galloped down the cobblestone path that wound all the way to the bottom of Casterly Rock.
Tyrion spent much of the next five days in solitude. That was how he normally preferred to spend his time anyway, but usually he was reading, drinking, or whoring. He still read and drank plenty, but he kept a safe distance from anything with a skirt. He made a vow that until after the melee, he would not seek out another whore.
Since he was not preoccupied with fucking, Tyrion was able to focus on other matters. He primarily focused on preparing for the melee. To be precise, he prepared for his first encounter with one of the attendees.
Before the evening, Tyrion had not given much thought to the possibility of his betrothal to Ellyn Clegane. He had fully expected her parents to refuse, just as Lord Hoster Tully had done. Hopefully, Lord Tarrence and Lady Daliah would have had more tact than to publically call the match an insult. If not, Tyrion not have cared. He was accustomed to being the laughingstock of his family.
Tyrion had been stunned when he learned that House Clegane did not turn down the match right away; there was a chance they would actually accept it. At the time, he had presumed that Gregor and Sandor may have convinced their parents into considering the marriage contract. Perhaps Lord and Lady Clegane were striving to gain some political advantage, or they feared the consequences of displeasing their liege lord.
Tyrion had never once contemplated the idea that Ellyn Clegane herself had consented to the match.
Now he had discovered that it was Lady Ellyn who had wished to meet him in the first place. Her own brothers had brought that to his attention.
As a result, Tyrion quickly became a fair deal more invested in the likelihood of their betrothal. He was now genuinely curious about Ellyn Clegane. He found himself wondering what type of woman she was.
The majority of women, even the most well-mannered, would cringe at the mere concept of meeting him. Ellyn Clegane was not only willing to meet Tyrion, but also excited to do so. That alone established that she was neither shallow nor closeminded. Normally, Tyrion would consider the likelihood that she simply wished to see how grotesque Tyrion really was; that was a common reason for wanting to meet him. But given the family she came from, that was unlikely.
Ultimately, Tyrion decided not to reflect too much on Ellyn Clegane's personality. In his experience, by having small or no expectations, he was far less likely to be disappointed. Aside from that… there was no point in imagining what a woman would be like before he actually knew her. In his opinion, the image of a woman in his mind's eye and the woman's actual image should be one in the same. Otherwise, he would be making a fool of himself.
The day of the melee soon arrived. In the early morning, Tyrion departed from Casterly Rock. He rode on a horse fit with a special saddle designed to accommodate his specific measurements. He was accompanied by a pair of his personal bodyguards. They were not among the best of the Lannister soldiers, but they were competent and loyal, and that was enough for Tyrion.
Tyrion and his guards reached the tourney grounds shortly before midday. From the moment they entered the vicinity, a number of people paused and turned towards the Imp. The Westerlanders bowed their heads respectfully; everyone else just continued to gaze at him in bewilderment. Tyrion had long ago learned to disregard those stares, so he paid them no mind.
The melee was to be held in a large arena that been assembled in the center of the tourney grounds. It was five times larger than the jousting field, and it sat ten times as many spectators.
Tyrion was among the first hundred to be seated. As a member of a Great House, he was given a spot in the front row. His guards sat directly behind him.
Before long, more and more people showed up. As the rows were gradually filled, Tyrion kept his eyes open for anyone bearing the sigil of the Cleganes of Clegane's Keep.
When the stands were halfway occupied, Tyrion spotted Lord Tarrence and Lady Daliah. They arrived with their daughter-by-law, Obara Martell. However, their own daughter was nowhere to be seen.
The three of them went to the other side of the arena. They were in the same section as Dacey Mormont and Nymeria Martell. Ellaria Sand and her two daughters were nearby, as well.
Yet there's still no sign of Ellyn Clegane.
Tyrion initially assumed that Lady Ellyn was fixing her hair or doing whatever women did before they appeared at a public event. Women tended to be very self-conscious of their façade, especially when around so many other people. Not all women were like that, of course. But it applied to just about every woman Tyrion personally knew. Even whores want to look their prettiest.
When the arena was closer to completely full than halfway full, Tyrion began to suspect Ellyn was not being delayed because of her hair or anything of the sort. It was then that he developed a more grim theory.
Could it have been possible Ellyn had elected not to come at the last moment? Maybe Gregor and Sandor had misinformed him. Maybe they had been misinformed. Or maybe Lady Ellyn had actually come to have second thoughts on this meeting. He would not have blamed her; she would not be the first woman to avoid his acquaintance. But even so… he was hoping this scenario would be different.
I should not rush to conclusions just yet. She's probably just…
"Is this seat claimed, my lord?" a soft, feminine voice interrupted his broodings.
Tyrion promptly turned to his left, and he finished his thought. Just right here.
Standing before him was a maiden of thirteen. She was quite tall; she had to be closer to six feet in height than five. Despite her large stature, she was clearly blossoming into womanhood. Her breasts were already forming. They were emphasized by her tight bodice. Her somewhat wide hips accentuated her thin waistline. She maintained her posture and her stance with the confidence and grace of someone twice her age. Her long, dark hair was combed neatly and hung loosely over her shoulders.
At first glance, Tyrion honestly thought he was looking at a woman grown. The only indication that she was still a girl was in her face. Her lips still had the fullness that was commonplace in children. Nevertheless, when she opened her lips, her white teeth formed a lovely smile. Additionally, although she looked down at Tyrion from a great height, she gazed at him with understanding and compassionate eyes. Those were her most endearing features: her smile and her eyes.
After taking a moment to absorb the beauty before him, Tyrion composed himself and said in his most polite tone "Oh, no. Not at all, my lady. Please, settle down."
Ellyn Clegane continued to grin and moved to sit beside Tyrion Lannister, saying appreciatively "Thank you."
Tyrion had come to the melee in a doublet, cloak, and trousers; all of them a hue of Lannister crimson red. Lady Ellyn had likewise worn the colors of her own house. She clad entirely in yellow and black apparel. But in place of a formal dress, she had worn a riding gown. Beneath that, she wore a pair of breeches, and a cloak was fastened around her shoulders. Tyrion thought she quaintly resembled one of the warrior women from Westeros' history.
On her back, she wore what seemed to be a parcel of some sort. It was wrapped in a sheet of thick brown wool, which was tied securely with a length of string. It was at least five times longer than it was wide. Tyrion's interest was piqued.
"Would you care to place that on the ground, my lady?" Tyrion proposed, pointing out the parcel.
"No, my lord," Ellyn respectfully declined, "But if it please you, I would place it in your lap."
Tyrion was perplexed by that commented, but he did not throw aside his chivalry. He stated "I would be happy to hold your burden for you."
"It is not a burden, nor is it mine," Ellyn apprised him as she reached back, took ahold of the parcel, and brought it to her front, "It is a gift meant for your family."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow at that. This is rather unusual. Despite his skepticism, his curiosity got the better of him. "Oh? What might it be?"
"Something that was once lost to House Lannister," Ellyn revealed as she carefully held the parcel out. As Tyrion took it in his short arms, Ellyn went on with "My brothers intended to give it back to your father weeks ago. But due to the circumstances, they thought it better if I was the one to present it."
Tyrion gave a slight nod at that. He then turned to the parcel and swiftly unwrapped it. When he saw what was inside, he was aghast.
It was an ancient greatsword. Its length was nearly one and a-half times Tyrion's height. The handle was large enough that a grown man could hold it comfortably with both hands. The blade was five feet of metal. The hilt was made of solid gold painted red; the pommel was shaped in the form of a lion's head.
Normally, Tyrion could hardly even lift a weapon of such size. In spite of that, he was able to pick this one up without difficulty. And he knew why; it was because of the blade's composition. Valyrian steel… So light yet so sharp.
And he knew it was made of Valyrian steel because he knew this weapon. He had only seen illustrations of it in books of his family lineage, but there was no mistaking it for anything else.
Tyrion slowly gazed up at Ellyn Clegane and murmured quietly "This… this is my family's ancestral sword."
The tall girl lightly nodded her head and proclaimed "Yes, that is indeed Brightroar. It is past time it was returned to Casterly Rock."
Tyrion grinned again and looked back to the sword. As he wrapped Brightroar back up in the wool sheet, he muttered "I'm amazed you are just handing it back to my family like this. You could have sold it back to us for a healthy sum. Its worth is said to be so great that it could pay for an entire army."
"I'm aware of that," Ellyn declared, "But money is no longer a concern for my family. You see, Brightroar was found amongst the spoils aboard Euron Greyjoy's galley. Since Lord Tywin awarded my house all that wealth, parting with a single sword was easy. And even if we were in need of gold… well, what kind of people would we be if we forced our liege lord to buy his rightful property from us?"
"That is a superb point," Tyrion admitted, tying the parcel shut again, "Only mercenaries and pirates would be so bold as to sell a person's own goods back to them."
"Precisely," Ellyn conceded, "House Clegane has no desire to be associated with those types of people."
"That's commendable of you," Tyrion perceived. He then placed the parcel at his feet. He could have given it to one of his bodyguards, but he would not trust either of them with his family's ancestral sword. He trusted them with his life (to a reasonable extent), but not with Brightroar.
After sitting up straight again, Tyrion remembered he had brought something to offer, as well. He reached into his vest and proclaimed"On the subject of gifts… I have something I'd like to give you, as well, my lady."
Now it was Ellyn's turn to be intrigued. She gazed down at Tyrion expectantly. A moment later, he pulled out a small wooden box.
"This is for you personally," Tyrion enlightened her, holding it out to her, "Not your family."
"I'm certain my parents and brothers will be thankful all the same," Ellyn conjectured, gratefully accepting the box.
"What matters to me is what you think of it," Tyrion proclaimed frankly.
Ellyn opened the lid of the box, and she let out a small gasp of surprise. Pleasant surprise; I can tell.
Inside were two items. One was a golden necklace. The other was a dagger.
The necklace contained two ornaments: a lion's head and a lioness's head. Based on how they were positioned on the chain, they were meant to be facing each other.
The blade of the dagger was standard smith-forged steel, but its hilt was exceptional. The pommel bore the likeness of a massive hound bearing its fangs, and its balance was remarkable. Ellyn picked the dagger up first, and she examined it thoroughly.
"I know from your brothers that you have been trained in armed combat," Tyrion apprised her, "Hence the dagger. By the way, the blade is interchangeable. So if you wish, you could switch it out for the blade from one of those Valyrian steel daggers your brothers won from the Crow's Eye."
"Now there's a thought," Ellyn muttered, fascination evident in her voice. She set the dagger back down in the box, and she turned her focus to the other object "And the necklace?"
Tyrion plainly replied with "Well, I know from other experiences that all women are fond of jewelry."
"I cannot dispute that, my lord," Ellyn professed, smiling a bit.
Tyrion picked the necklace up and enquired "Would you mind if I put it around your neck?"
"Please do," she bade him.
Lady Ellyn turned her back to Tyrion as he rose to his feet. By standing on the bench, he was taller than she was when seated. After Ellyn moved her hair aside, he pulled the necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp at the back.
"Alright, let me see," he requested.
When Ellyn faced him again, he got to see the necklace on her, and Tyrion found he quite liked how it looked on her. I have to admit it suits her rather well.
"It's a beautiful necklace, my lord," Ellyn told him sincerely.
"I am glad you think so," was all Tyrion said in response.
Just then, one of Tyrion's bodyguards tapped him on the shoulder and whispered "Beggin' your pardon, Milord, but I believe the melee is about to start."
Tyrion turned to his front and saw that the soldier was correct. The contenders for the melee were beginning to file into the arena. There had to be over a hundred of them.
Gregor Clegane and Sandor Clegane were both among the first twenty men to enter the field. Not long after they appeared, both of them managed to spot Tyrion Lannister and his companion. Ellyn remained seated, but she vigorously waved at her brothers. They both smiled and waved back at her.
Tyrion's other bodyguard leaned down to Ellyn's level and informed her "I've bet ten golden dragons on your lord brother to win, milady."
"He'll be pleased to know that," she pronounced happily.
For his sake, let's hope Lord Gregor does win. I doubt he even has ten dragons to his name.
The last man to enter the arena was Robert Baratheon himself. He was clad in his stag armor, looking regal as ever. Under one arm, he carried his antlered helm. With the other, he held his warhammer. The entire audience became silent as the king took up his position in the very center of the line. All the other participants momentarily bowed their heads to him in respect.
Once he gained everyone's attention, Robert addressed the crowd and his fellow participants. He announced "Remember, gentlemen. This is by all means a mock combat scenario. The concept involves defeating your opponent without slaying him. I cannot emphasize that strongly enough. Blood may be shed here, but I will not allow outright bloodshed. We are not Dothraki; we do not celebrate victory with death. We celebrate as brothers-in-arms and as compatriots. We do NOT kill brothers-in-arms or compatriots. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Your Grace," the other fighters chorused altogether. Most of them at least sounded truthful.
Robert nodded in acknowledgement, donned his antlered helm, gripped his warhammer in both hands, and declared "Then let the melee commence!"
In response to that, a wave of approving applause swept through the stands.
The melee was essentially a free-for-all battle. Everyone could fight whomever he pleased at any time. In the beginning, the majority of the fights were one-on-one duels. Sometimes, two people had to team up in effort to best someone who was more skilled than either of them.
However, no renowned swordsmen ever opted to pair up with another fine swordsman so that they could gang up to beat weaker opponents. That was a craven's tactic, and cravens were not welcome in tourneys.
The main rule of the melee was quite simple: once you were knocked onto the ground or your blood was drawn, you were eliminated from the competition. The last unwounded man standing was the victor.
For a while, Tyrion kept his concentration primarily on his brother, Ser Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer managed to dispatch five men in as many minutes. Tyrion felt an odd sense of pride, seeing his brother perform so superbly. He did his family proud. If only I could somehow do that, as well.
Of course, Jaime was not the only notable warrior on that field. There was something to be said about Lady Ellyn's brothers, too. Not only did they have substantial combat prowess, but their fighting style also utilized a fair amount of their presentation.
Sandor Clegane did not wear a helm. The sight of his face up-close was sufficient to scare the fight out of many of his adversaries long enough for him to overpower them. Gregor Clegane had no deformity to display, but his sheer height was just as intimidating. He was like eight feet of heavy metal with a hazardous, fast-moving steel addendum. Between the two of them, a dozen combatants fell in the first ten minutes.
Of course, the melee could only have one winner.
We'll have to wait and see which turns out to be the more ideal asset: repulsion or size?
"My lady," Tyrion spoke to Ellyn Clegane, "Between your two brothers, who would say is more likely to emerge victorious?"
Lady Ellyn reflected on that, and she pronounced "Most people would pick Gregor without hesitation. However, I know that bigger is not necessarily better. Sandor may have learned the basics of swordsmanship from our brother, but he knows a few things even Gregor does not. His skill set is just as broad, and he is just as adept with a blade."
"I see," Tyrion avowed, "But who do you believe to possess the better chances?"
"That would really depend on the setting," Ellyn contended, "In close quarters, I would have to favor Sandor. On an open field, Gregor would have the upper hand. Since both of those conditions apply here, it would be hard to decide. But if I absolutely had to choose one… I would place my money on Gregor."
"So would I," Tyrion admitted, "At the end of the day, he's still the Mountain, and mountains do not fall easily."
"Quite so, my lord," Ellyn agreed, "But be that as it may, my brother says a warrior's capabilities should not be evaluated by his height. There are even times when he debates that tremendous size can actually be a disadvantage. On that, I would have to agree with him."
"Why is that?" Tyrion queried in interest.
"Because I would know," Ellyn somberly apprised him.
Tyrion was taken aback. "How do you mean, my lady?"
"Well…" Ellyn Clegane began uncertainly. After a pause, she let out a sigh and asked "May I confide in you, my lord?"
"Absolutely," Tyrion assured her.
Ellyn leaned in so that only he could hear her, and she mumbled softly "Just look at me. I have only seen thirteen namedays, but I am already as tall as the average man in Westeros. I am taller than my lady mother, and I will continue to grow overtime. If my lord father and brothers are any sign, I could ultimately grow to six and a-half feet or more. Other than my sister-by-law Dacey, I might be the tallest woman in the Seven Kingdoms."
"You make it sound a travesty," Tyrion noted.
"I do not mean to," Ellyn asserted, "But being so much taller than others can be difficult at times. The majority of the men I've met seem to prefer to be friends with women who are shorter than them."
"Not all men are like that, my lady," Tyrion assured her, "If we were, I would have no one of your gender as a friend. Besides, there are some men who actually appreciate tall women."
"Yes, but they are a rarity," Ellyn disputed, "It is not uncommon for members of my gender to be fond of tall men, either. But they do not feel the same about tall women. In fact, I know firsthand that many girls see tall women as freaks."
Tyrion was stunned. "What are you saying? Have you been ridiculed or scorned… because of your height?"
"Not directly," Ellyn gloomily revealed, "However, behind my back, there are some who point and whisper about me. I ignore what they say, but I cannot ignore them altogether. Because of that… making friends with other girls is harder for me."
"You cannot mean to tell me you are friendless," Tyrion firmly insisted.
"Oh, I have plenty of friends," Ellyn proclaimed, "But I believe some of them are only my peers because their fathers are retainers to my father. As far as I am aware, I have made enemies of no one. Still, there are very few I'd call a true friend."
"I find that very difficult to fathom," Tyrion contended, "In the time since you sat beside me, you have been nothing but kind, empathetic, and accepting. How could someone with those qualities be so alone?"
"By choice, my lord," Ellyn expounded, "In all honesty, I have never cared very much for social interaction. I appear in public when it is expected of me, and I make time for my closest friends and my family. Even still, apart from them, my favorite company is my own."
I know that feeling far too well. By now, Tyrion had developed an interesting theory about the woman before him. He placed his hand on his shoulder and stated "My lady, are you saying you are… resentful of your height?"
Ellyn did not answer straightaway. After ten seconds, she looked away and shrugged. She professed "Somewhat. I mean, what good is being so tall if people are instinctively wary of you?"
Never in his lifetime did Tyrion consider that viewpoint.
As far back as he could remember, Tyrion Lannister had wondered what it would be like if he was taller. He frequently imagined himself of a height with Cersei and Jaime (and sharing their goods looks, as well). In his mind, there was no such thing as being too tall. There had even been a time when he had thought that if he was tall enough, most (if not all) of his problems would vanish.
Now, in the span of five minutes, this young but precocious woman had made him rethink his whole position on height. Seeing the issue from her perspective, he fully realized that height played no role in determining one's overall standing in the world. It was merely a single aspect of one's identity.
It appears being too tall can be just as challenging as being too short.
"You present an interesting argument, my lady," Tyrion remarked, "Long ago, I came up with an ideal that the amount of esteem a person garners from others is proportional to his or her height. Generally, one who stands higher can command respect more easily. However, I have found that that is true only if the individual has the confidence to match."
"That would explain my situation," Ellyn pronounced, "Confidence is something I tend to lack."
"You approached me without protest," Tyrion pointed out, "An unconfident person could not have managed that. You are more confident than you realize.
"Or, one could argue, a shallow person could not have done that," Ellyn contended, "I may be a solitary person, my lord, but I always remember my courtesies. When I have an appointment with someone, I never miss it. What my brothers told you is true; I really did wish to meet you. But that was not my only reason for coming here. I also came here because it was expected of me. Confidence had nothing to do with the affair.
"On the contrary," Tyrion countered, "It had everything to do with it. In fact, you are far more confident than you realize, my lady."
Ellyn seemed mildly astonished and relieved by that. "How so?"
Tyrion explained: "Although you claim interest and obligation led you here, neither of those reasons can truly dictate your actions. A person may wish to see what is north of the Wall, but he may decide he does not wish to climb the massive structure or pass through it. Just because one is willing to do something, it does not mean anything unless they actual do it. Additionally, a person's duty does not always determine what course of action he or she will take. My brother was once sworn to serve Mad King Aerys; now he is known as 'Kingslayer.' Similarly, you and I were expected to meet eventually, but this meeting was not arranged by our fathers. You could have chosen to avoid coming to this melee. You did not."
"Indeed not," Ellyn perceived frankly, "You were not forced here either, my lord. May I ask what exactly brought you here?"
"Several reasons," he revealed, "Firstly, there's the obvious reason; the reason every other spectator in this arena is here. But other than that, my motivations are the same as yours. I was eager to make your acquaintance, I was expected to follow my father's wishes… and I possessed the confidence to appear here. In front of all these people. Many of whom may be false friends."
Ellyn must have seen the point he was trying to make. Judging by her countenance, she was now a great deal cheerier than she had been when the subject of height first came up in this conversation. She also seemed far less self-conscious about how high her head stood.
Tyrion placed his hand on her shoulder and professed "I have struggled with having an unusual height myself, my lady. But I discovered that at the end of the day, the difference in height is not worth brooding over. So do not let other people bother you because of it, and do not allow other people to be unintentionally intimidated by you because of it, either. You are who you are, regardless of how much of you there is."
For a minute, Ellyn said nothing in response. I hope I was not too philosophical for her. Tyrion did not believe so. Ellyn Clegane struck him as an intelligent young woman, in spite of her apparent low self-esteem. As such, he wished to know what she thought of his interpretations.
Ultimately, Ellyn Clegane turned to Tyrion, smiled down at him, and uttered sweetly "Thank you for telling me that, my lord. You said precisely what I was hoping you would say."
Hoping I would say? Once more, Tyrion Lannister was perplexed. How could Lady Ellyn have hoped he would say anything? Had she expected to converse with him on this matter? Did she anticipate he would attempt to reassure her when she discussed her sensitivity to her height? Could that have been why she had chosen to confide in him in the first place?
As those questions passed through Tyrion's head, he looked back up at Lady Ellyn. Her smile was still there, but his eyes went immediately to hers. He was drawn to the look she was giving him now.
He knew that look. It was one that graced his own face quite often. And whenever he had that face on, he was always busy pondering or analyzing something. The look of inquisitiveness and knowledge.
While he lacked the ideal physique for a soldier, Tyrion felt he had the ideal brain for an intellectual. Since he first learned to read, Tyrion had gone to the library as often as Jaime had to the training yard. Jaime was deadly with a sword, but Tyrion was just as deadly with his mind. In his sixteen years, he had become smarter, wiser, and more cunning than just about anyone else who dwelt in Casterly Rock. In time, probably more so than anyone else in Westeros.
He firmly believed that, as he had never met anyone with a mind that could contest his in such a way.
Until this very moment, perhaps. Sandor did mention that his sister was very astute for her age, but I never would have thought her capable of this. I wonder if she ever actually had those insecurities about her stature, or if she just invented them to see if I would comfort her.
He was partly inclined to believe both possibilities. It was well-known (in this part of the Westerlands, at least) that unlike her elder brothers, Ellyn Clegane was not very outgoing. Her unnatural height was as good a reason as any for her shyness. In any case, Tyrion knew that the most introverted people were often the ones with the greatest opportunities to learn the ways of the world. Often, they also developed the ability to notice things that were often overlooked by most other people.
It suddenly occurred to Tyrion Lannister that Ellyn Clegane had to be one of those individuals. She was definitely more assertive than she claimed to be. Moreover, she was incredibly observant; observant in the studious sense. That whole discussion about height and how it affected her emotionally… it must have been a test. A rather elaborate test meant to bring out Tyrion's good nature (assuming it was there, and it was).
She may have invented that test after she sat down beside me. If so… she is even cleverer than Sandor gave her credit for.
In a match of wits, Tyrion had never been caught off guard. This marked the first instance when he was. One would think he would hold a grudge against the person who managed to outwit him. Be that as it may, he did not resent Lady Ellyn for her actions. In fact, he admired her for it. In his experience, sharp women were scarce to come across. Now he found one who could probably match him in acumen, and that was a blessing in itself.
It is likely she intends to observe me all throughout this meeting. In that case… I shall do the same.
As the melee progressed, Tyrion Lannister and Ellyn Clegane discussed various other issues in depth.
They talked about the role one's appearance has in making both first and lasting impressions. Tyrion used Sandor Clegane for one of his major points. One thing he and the Hound now had in common was that both their faces were partly deformed. He paid especial attention to Lady Ellyn's reaction when he addressed that fact. In the end, she contended that while a person's appearance could impact how others saw them, it was not what was mainly responsible for leaving an impression. Their deeds were. Tyrion had to agree with her.
They talked about ambition and how it influenced one's achievements. In five years, Gregor Clegane had gone from a mere knight of the Westerlands to a renowned lord of the North. Along the way, he had formed the most unified fighting company in all of Westeros, and he had made the country the safest it had been in decades. Tyrion and Ellyn wished to be part of something just as magnificent and grand, but they had never been given the opportunity. But… the opportunity could certainly become available in the future.
They talked about change and how it was consistently coming to the country with each passing year. Once more, the Legion without Banners was a focal point in the discussion. Ever since the tourney at Lannisport began, Lord Gregor and his lieutenants had been searching the grounds for new recruits. Dozens of Legionnaires had been made in the last few weeks, including Thoros of Myr, Ser Jacelyn Bywater, Eddison Tollett, Ser Wendel Manderly, and Ser Bonifer Hasty. Most notably, Gregor had taken on Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, as his own squire. Lord and Lady Tyrell had put up surprisingly little protest to their firstborn joining the Legion. Ellyn had even heard that her brother had convinced Lord Randyll Tarly to consider sending his son Samwell to Moat Cailin when he was of age. Samwell was said to be a craven. That gave Tyrion and Ellyn an idea. If cravens were welcome in the Legion, why not dwarves or giantesses? Just one possible future to think about.
With every new topic they discussed, Tyrion came to appreciate and like Lady Ellyn even more. By her behavior and the way she looked at him now, she was rapidly developing similar feelings for him. They were now longer calling each other "my lord" or "my lady." By now, they were on a first-name basis.
The last thing they talked about was love and the role it played in everyday life. By the time they reached this topic, the melee was nearly over. Only a dozen contenders remained unwounded and on their feet. Gregor and Sandor were among them. Tyrion and Ellyn frequently alternated their attention from each other and the ongoing battle before them. All the while, they spoke about the various types of love.
First, there was domestic love. Ellyn had always been loved by her parents and brothers unconditionally. Tyrion, however, had never been loved in such a way. While his brother and uncles had loved him in a way, his father and sister had never had anything but cold disdain for him. Then again, it was debatable as to whether or not Lord Tywin or Queen Cersei were actually capable of loving anyone. Other than themselves, that is.
Then there was platonic love. That was the type of love Ellyn felt for her sisters-by-law Dacey Mormont and Obara Martell, as well as all the friends she had made growing up. Tyrion had a number of friends at Casterly Rock he felt a similar form of love for.
Lastly, they arrived at romantic love. The type of love people normally thought of when they heard the word "love." Ellyn admitted she was totally unversed in that field, and Tyrion confessed to her that he was not. There was only one woman he had loved, and he had not seen her in a year. He was not surprised when Lady Ellyn revealed that she knew about Tysha. Tyrion had fully expected Sandor to tell his sister about the Imp's first and thus far only love.
Tyrion also revealed that he had lain with a number of whores. Luckily, he had not been such a fool as to fall in love with any of them. Ellyn did not mind the whores; she was just pleased that he was honest with her. Furthermore, Tyrion assured her that he took marriage vows very seriously. Once he was a married man, he would never look at a whore again.
Of course, the outcome of this meeting will determine whether I ever will be a married man.
By the end of that talk, there were only two participants left in the melee: King Robert Baratheon and Lord Gregor Clegane.
Throughout the stands of the arena, the spectators watched closely as the two men sparred, greatsword against warhammer. All eyes were locked on them.
Actually, in all technicality, all but four eyes. Tyrion Lannister and Ellyn Clegane were more engrossed in each other.
It was in this moment, as two of the strongest men in Westeros fought in mock combat, that Tyrion finally addressed the issue that had brought him and Lady Ellyn together in the first place. He took her hands in his, gazed up at her, and he told her in a delicate yet firm voice "Ellyn, we have talked at length for hours, and in that time, I have come to admire you both as a woman and as a person. I already feel as though I know you as I would my dearest friend. But friendship is not the intended result of this engagement. So it is now that I must ask you… will you one day do me the honor of becoming my lady wife? I will not force you to accept; the decision is yours entirely."
In spite of how well he now knew Lady Ellyn, part of him still expected her to flat-out refuse him or take a very long time to reply. But she did neither. Instead, she grinned gently and placed a kiss on Tyrion's forehead. After that, she gazed into his eyes and declared "I doubt there is any man I would rather ask me that question. I gladly accept your offer, Tyrion."
Tyrion smiled. He could not see his own face at that time, but he was certain his smile extended the length of his cheeks.
At that very same moment, the melee ended. Lord Gregor Clegane managed to knock the King onto his back. No one uttered a sound while the King was on the ground. After Lord Gregor helped him back to his feet, the king spontaneously burst out laughing. He laughed for nearly thirty seconds. Then he shouted comically "That's one mountain this stag won't try to conquer!"
Everyone in the arena laughed and erupted in tumultuous cheers. Everyone except Tyrion Lannister and Ellyn Clegane. The two of them paid no mind to that or anything else that was happening around them. Instead, they moved closer together and embraced each other fondly.