While the crowd still roared for the victory of the Three Silent Knights, and soldiers — acting under the king's orders — scoured the grounds in search of the mysterious champions, Twig, Aron, and Jenny — now without armor and with the horses hidden — wandered casually through the outskirts of Harrenhal looking for something else to do.
They wore simple linen clothing, blending easily with the masses.
"Hey, guys… how about we stop somewhere and grab something to eat?" Twig asked.
"You want to hit a tavern?" Aron replied.
"Maybe. What do you think, Jenny?" Twig pressed.
"If we find a nice tavern, I'm fine with it. We can go eat something."
The three wandered around Harrenhal looking for an open tavern — but found none. It seemed the entire castle was absorbed by the tourney.
So Twig chose a quiet spot away from the crowds, pulled some utensils and food from his inventory, and improvised a picnic.
"I'm a little disappointed," Aron said. "I thought the tourney would be more interesting… maybe even challenging."
Jenny stayed silent. She didn't agree — but didn't disagree either.
"Come on, Aron," Twig said. "You didn't really think this place would be a challenge, did you? You two kill dragons almost daily — sometimes more than ten each in the same day. Why would a handful of armed men pose any threat?"
"…Yeah, true," Aron admitted. "Honestly, the hardest part wasn't winning. It was holding back. Controlling the strength of the strikes is more tiring than killing a dragon in that flaming dungeon."
"I'm disappointed too," Jenny said. "But not because of the fights."
"You too?" Twig asked.
"Yeah… but it's the event itself. We enter in secret and flee as soon as it ends. We don't get to enjoy anything."
Twig thought for a moment.
"Then tomorrow we just won't participate at all. There'll be archery, axe throwing… The jousts only start the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow we just watch."
The siblings agreed instantly.
Elsewhere in the encampment…
In another tent, Ned Stark sat with guards from the Vale as Robert Baratheon lay stretched over an improvised cot.
"How are you feeling, Robert? Can you get up yet?" Ned asked, worried.
"Ah, Ned… my head feels like I took a mule's kick straight to the skull," Robert groaned.
His face was swollen and bruised — very much like someone who had been kicked by a horse.
"Damn it, Ned. I lost the melee to a bunch of unknown knights. Who were those freaks? Fast and strong as demons. Knocked me down with a punch — the humiliation! D'you think they're from some foreign realm?" Robert growled.
Ned wondered whether he should tell him the truth.
Sooner or later, Robert would find out.
"They aren't entirely unknown. I don't know their names — and I doubt anyone does. But I think I can find out."
"How? You think you can figure out who those knights were?" Robert pushed himself upright, interested.
"I'm not sure. But I know one of them used our horses. My sister Lyanna gave him."
"Lyanna?" Robert's eyes widened.
"Yes. She gave him the horse because she lost a bet to a masked merchant on the road here. I can't confirm the merchant is one of those knights… but they're connected."
"I see…" Robert grumbled. "I'll look into this once my damn headache fades."
Not far from there…
Lyanna Stark walked with Howland Reed — the young man she had helped days earlier, who had barely left her side since.
"What now, Howland?" she asked.
"Nothing, my lady. I was just thinking about those masked knights… how they won so easily. None of them fell. It was so smooth it looked almost a scam. If I didn't know the tourney was real, I'd say the losers let themselves fall on purpose."
"Indeed," Lyanna said. "Who would've guessed three knights would take down seven, pass every round, and still win the melee?"
"Who indeed, Lady Stark?" said a voice behind them.
They turned —
Prince Rhaegar.
"Your Grace," they both greeted.
"No need for so much formality," Rhaegar said. "I was looking for you, Lyanna. Or rather… Lady Stark."
"For me? How can I help?"
"Do you know where I might find the Masked Merchant? The one who asked us to deliver you that message? I've been looking for him since the tourney began — but found only nothing."
"I don't know where he is either," Lyanna said. "Last time I saw him, he borrowed three horses from me to enter the melee with two companions. I think one of the three knights was the Merchant. I didn't see his face because of the mask… but his voice and manner were the same as when we met on the road from Riverrun."
"I see," Rhaegar said, narrowing his eyes. "Then if I find the Merchant, I find the Knight. And the opposite is also true. Interesting.
If you see him without the mask, tell him to seek me. I wish to speak with him — and so does my father."
"Yes, Your Grace," Lyanna replied. "I will."
The next day
Twig returned with Aron and Jenny — this time maskless, dressed plainly to blend into the crowd as they took their seats in the stands to watch the competitions.
The excitement, however, dissolved quickly. To them, the performances were mediocre at best.
"Let's walk around," Twig suggested. "See the tents, the camps…"
They agreed. For the siblings — who spent most of their lives near Saul's inn — this was a rare chance to explore beyond the forest and see the world.
They enjoyed it. The bustling excitement of so many people gathered stirred a contagious energy.
"Wow… big villages, big cities, so many… so many people together," Jenny said. "I like it."
"It is interesting," Aron agreed. "A lot of people are celebrating."
Twig called their attention back.
"What you're seeing is just a moment. It's not like this when you visit cities and towns. Normally, you find misery and filth. Here everything seems bright and joyful because of the tourney. But it's temporary. Once this ends, Harrenhal returns to being a sad, poor place — like most of Westeros."
"What do you mean?" Jenny asked.
"It looks nice now, but I've been to Riverrun — and believe it or not, I've been to King's Landing too.
Not pretty. Most people are starving. You see children with no parents running around trying to survive.
What you see now is only a brief spark of light before the dark returns. One day, when you travel the world, you'll understand.
But don't be sad — I'm only saying this so you don't get the wrong idea."
"Then let's make the most of it," Aron said.
Jenny nodded, thoughtful.
"Come on, Jenny," Twig said, guiding them toward the stands.
They reached the arena just in time for the afternoon archery contest. Not impressive — though better than the axe-throwing event, at least in their opinion.
But what came next truly surprised them: the bards' competition.
One by one, singers stepped into the arena to perform.
But the absolute highlight was Prince Rhaegar — whose melancholic melody and mastery of the harp drew a single tear from Jenny's eye… and certainly from many young ladies present.
Twig noticed but said nothing; Aron, of course, teased his sister.
Twig's attention drifted toward the Stark pavilion, where he spotted Lyanna in the same state as Jenny.
He thought:
Fate is cruel — some things seem carved in stone.
Twig knew that if he didn't intervene, events would unfold exactly as he remembered from the story.
But the tourney wasn't over yet. The world could still change.
With the power now in his hands — and the power he had shared with his friends — almost anything could change, if he willed it.
From the stands, he scanned the noble rows, seeing familiar faces and considering paths.
Now that his claws were out, what mark should he leave?
What impact did this world deserve?
While Aron and Jenny simply enjoyed the tourney, Twig examined possibilities and consequences.
Strength without purpose was just noise.
He would have to choose — when to act, where to press destiny…
and how much of his true face he would reveal to Westeros.