chapter 146 part 2
Sansa straightened her back and asked, "Prince Joffrey, who do you think will be tomorrow's champion?"
"My uncle Jaime, of course."
Joffrey's expression was full of confidence. He continued, "In a few years, when I can enter the lists myself, I will sweep everyone aside. Lady Sansa, when that time comes, I will personally crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty."
*Thump-thump.* Sansa felt she had fallen completely in love with Joffrey.
Joffrey looked at Sansa, the corners of his lips curving upwards. He raised a hand, summoned a servant to bring a pitcher of summerwine, and personally poured a glass for her.
Sansa didn't need wine; she was already intoxicated by the magic of the night. The prince from her dreams had utterly charmed her.
Meanwhile, course after delicious course was served: thick venison and barley stew, a salad of sweet beets, spinach, and plums sprinkled with nuts, and snails cooked with honey and garlic.
Sansa had never eaten snails before, so Joffrey taught her how to pry the meat from the shells and personally fed her the first sweet, delicious bite.
Next was trout baked in clay. Joffrey walked over, personally broke open the hard clay casing, carved a piece from the portion only Queen Cersei was worthy of, and smilingly placed it on Sansa's plate.
Joffrey was the soul of courtesy, chatting with Sansa all evening. His words of praise came one after another, making Sansa laugh incessantly.
In addition, Joffrey shared with Sansa idle gossip from the Red Keep and explained Moon Boy's jokes to her. By the end, she had forgotten all the etiquette she had ever learned, leaving only laughter... Oh, this night was too beautiful.
...
...
The next day, in the morning.
After Lord Eddard entered the tourney grounds with King Robert, he made his way through the crowd and sat beside his daughter.
Septa Mordane was unwell today, and Lord Eddard had promised the night before to accompany Sansa to watch the final matches of the jousting competition.
Lord Eddard looked around but couldn't find his younger daughter, so he asked, "Where is Arya?"
Sansa obediently replied, "Father, my sister ran off to Jon's side..."
*Wuuuuu-wuuu-wuuu!* Just then, the tourney horn sounded, and Sansa's attention immediately shifted to the lists.
Today's first match was Glyn against Jaime. Glyn appeared first, bowing from afar to King Robert on his steed.
Jaime rode into the lists on a chestnut warhorse covered in gilded chainmail, and he himself gleamed with gold from head to foot. He even occasionally blew kisses to the ladies in the stands.
Glyn: "..."
...
Glyn and Jaime rode to opposite ends of the lists and halted their steeds. As the horn sounded, both horses began to gallop at full speed.
With a *bang*, the chestnut horse lost its rider and ran off to graze. The glimmering golden Jaime tumbled in the mud.
Glyn rode a lap, accepting the cheers of the crowd, while a humiliated Jaime awkwardly got up from the mud and left.
...
Sansa grabbed her father's hand and exclaimed excitedly, "Father, Lord Glyn is amazing!"
Lord Eddard watched Glyn ride around the lists and felt a sense of gratification. He smiled and said, "His movements are very agile, and his strength is ample."
Lord Eddard saw clearly that just as the Kingslayer was about to thrust his lance, Glyn's lance struck his opponent's chest a step earlier.
Eddard thought of his own eldest son... Robb was also very skilled with a lance; he and Glyn should have much to talk about.
"Father, who do you think will win the championship? Can the Knight of Flowers defeat Lord Glyn?"
*Wuuuuu-wuuu-wuuu!* The horn for the knights entering the lists sounded again.
Loras's steed was a beautiful grey mare, nimble and swift. Ser Gregor's great stallion shrieked when it caught her scent.
With a light touch of his spurs, Loras made his grey mare prance left and right like a graceful dancer. He then guided his steed toward the starting line on the other side.
Sansa watched Loras effortlessly resolve the issue and let out a sigh of relief.
She worriedly glanced at Ser Gregor, who was built like a giant mountain, and said, "Father, don't let Ser Gregor injure the Knight of Flowers."
Lord Eddard patiently explained, "Don't worry, Sansa. They are using tourney lances; they're designed to splinter on impact, so no one will get hurt."
After speaking, he subtly frowned as he watched Ser Gregor, who was having trouble controlling his steed. He had heard that when King's Landing fell, a seventeen-year-old Gregor was already by Lord Tywin's side. Though only recently knighted, he was already infamous far and wide for his towering physique and unparalleled ferocity.
Some said it was Gregor who had smashed the infant Prince Aegon Targaryen's head against a wall, and that he then raped the child's mother, Princess Elia of Dorne, before finally slaying her with a sword.
Lord Eddard couldn't recall ever speaking to Gregor, but during the suppression of Balon Greyjoy's rebellion, Gregor had fought alongside him, along with several thousand other knights.
He did not easily believe rumors, yet the whispers concerning Ser Gregor did not seem to be baseless. It was said he was about to marry for the third time, and there were various horrific rumors behind the deaths of his previous two wives.
It was said his castle was a grim and terrifying place, where servants mysteriously disappeared, and even the dogs dared not enter the great hall. Furthermore, his mother had died young under strange circumstances, his brother was terribly scarred by fire, and his father had died in a hunting "accident."
...
The steed shrieked and whinnied, constantly pawing the ground and shaking its head. The Mountain brutally kicked it with his steel-cased foot, making the horse rear up on its hind legs, almost throwing him off.
Ser Gregor tugged at the reins for a long time, only barely managing to bring his steed to the starting line at the edge of the lists.
The horn sounded. The Mountain had just spurred his horse when the beast bolted, galloping wildly forward. The Knight of Flowers' small mare, however, started her charge smoothly, like flowing silk.
The Mountain twisted his shield into position and adjusted his long lance, all the while struggling to make his disobedient steed run straight. Suddenly... the Knight of Flowers was upon him, his lance striking at the perfect moment. In the blink of an eye, The Mountain went down.
The Mountain's body was simply too enormous; he dragged his horse down with him, man and armored steed rolling into a heap.
The lists immediately erupted with cheers, shouts, whistles, gasps of astonishment, and excited murmurs.
The Knight of Flowers reined in his steed on the opposite side of the lists, his lance still unbroken. When he lifted his visor to reveal a faint smile, the sapphires on his armor glittered in the sunlight, and the entire crowd went wild for him.
In the middle of the lists, The Mountain finally disentangled himself from his reins and his horse's mane, rising to his feet in a towering rage. He ripped off his helmet and threw it violently to the ground. The Mountain's face was dark, seething with fury.
The Mountain roared at his squire, "My sword!"
The young squire, clutching a longsword, hurriedly ran forward and handed it to him. Just then, the fallen steed struggled back to its feet.
With a single stroke, The Mountain hacked his own mount down. The force of the blow was so savage that it almost completely severed the horse's head. The cheers in the lists instantly turned into screams.
The horse fell with a pathetic whinny, while The Mountain, gripping his dripping longsword, strode furiously towards the Knight of Flowers.
Everything happened too fast.
The Knight of Flowers also shouted for his sword, but The Mountain shoved his squire aside and seized the grey mare's reins.
(end of chapter)