12 Chapter 12: Final Day

The final day of the tourney was greeted by complete chaos as people clamored about making preparations for the final battle. Talking about the latest gossips or others might even say as a scandals.

Aside from the joust the melee is the most anticipated. Word of mouth had passed on as to the reason to the absolute brutality displayed by Arthas' the day before. The murder of two children. Of course Jon Arryn denied the accusation but was absolutely twarted when Tywin did not deny it himself.

His non committal answer sparked a wave of whispers that scattered across the ruined fortress. Further throwing Jon Arryn's denial into the wind.

But not all were blood and death.

A great feast was thrown for the highborns of Westeros just the night before. People even spoke of Prince Rhaegar's wonderful tune that left women swooning. But the common folk were more attuned with the feast they all shared that same night.

The once ashen camp was cleaned and then prepared. With whole roasted boars and deers and pigs along with soups that were prepared by several women was shared to anyone who wanted to partake in the celebration.

And all of it was given away freely. Naturally, everyone liked it. There was dancing and merry music. As children enjoyed good food along with everyone. The ones to stand out the most was Arthas, flanked by both Cersei formerly Lannister and Lyanna Stark who joined them later to the night.

Two daughters of two great Houses partook in the feast. Though the people could see the hesitation in the former Lannister Princess. She slowly mellowed out to the people that came to offer their words of comfort once she realized that most of them were sincere.

She even shared a danced with a cook, a butcher, and a hunter. With great urging from Arthas and Lyanna and despite her clear discomfort and desire to not be part of the dance, she still displayed her skill and talents to every song.

Seeing her slowly open up was enough for Arthas not knowing he unintentionally sends a glare her way everytime she almost sneered.

Lyanna as expected did not find any problem interacting with the small folk. And openly smiled and laughed with everyone present.

Arthas joined in on the celebration aswell. Dancing with a dozen different women. Each one competing over the other to catch his eye. It was all fun and games to the onlookers though as they laughed and cheered at the attempt made at least. Even joked about him vying for the other team. Which he vehemently denied.

The celebrants though mostly saw him serving food to the kids and even letting them braid his hair. Just simply laughing and playing. Further endearing him to the common folk.

Amidst the celebration Arthas gained a new glim in his eyes as word of Sif's whereabouts and safety came to his waiting hands, thanks to Tywin's messenger. Now he only needs to wait.

Morning came and a new wave of gossip was spreading. Word of Cersei and Lyanna Stark joining Arthas in his tent and not coming out till this morning was too big of a scandal to ignore.

Though Cersei could have been easily forgiven given her status, the fact that Lyanna Stark was betrothed though is a different matter entirely.

Robert naturally could not accept that. And decided to confront Lyanna just as she left with her family for the Arena.

"Lyanna!" Robert bellowed.

The members of House Stark minus Brandon turned to Robert who was marching towards them red faced and angry. His stomps were heavy, heavy enough that the six foot six Baratheon Lord actually kick off some dirt with every step he took.

Knowing his friend is angry, Eddard decided to step in.

"Stand aside Ned! I need to speak with Lyanna!"

"You have business with my daughter, Lord Baratheon?" said Rickard with a steely tone.

But Robert too hung over from the feast from last night ignored the Wolf Lord and addressed Lyanna directly.

"You! How dare you whore yourself to that nameless bastard! Have you propriety!?"

"Propriety? Propriety!?" shouted Lyanna. "You would question my honor!? You who was drumming a serving maid's ass like drum!? You had a woman on your lap as you peppered her with kisses!? You who continued to dishonor me! Me!? WHO WAS SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU!? Had the Gal! to question me!?" shouted Lyanna as both Rickard and Eddard stood in-between the two amidst the gathering crowd.

"I did not sleep with him Baratheon!" she said with venom. "Nor did he lay a finger on me! Not even once."

Lyanna then smiled as she continued. "Quite frankly I was disappointed he didn't." she said, making everyone around her had their eyes widen. "I was on his bed, right next to Cersei. And yet he chose to sit to a chair not far nor too close from us, with his back turned and a sword at hand. Obviously for our defense. That is what he did. Defending our honor."

"And unlike your southern women Baratheon, Northern women don't take shit from their husbands. So why should I give a shit to you who is simply betrothed!"

Robert felt angry and equally chastised, so Rickard decided to step in before Baratheon could open his mouth once more. "Lyanna. That is enough now."

"...yes father..."

Rickard then turned to Robert with his cold grey eyes and said. "Do not ever! Question a Stark's honor, Lord Baratheon. There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. Remember that well Young Lord. Now leave."

Robert walked away out of respect and a healthy amount of fear and embarrassment. As he could not find it in himself to speak against the Old Wolf's steely eyes.

"That was very foolish of you daughter." whispered Rickard.

"I did not do anything wrong father."

"I wasn't referring to trouble for you. You are my daughter after all. I was referring to him. Because now, their judgement will fall upon his shoulders." Lyanna looked on with worry and horror as her eyes soon began to water. "...come. Let us see to the end of our stay here."

~~~ Break ~~~

Arthas' foot steps was all that was heard as he tapped his armored boots to the ground in impatiens. His hood up and arms crossed, he leaned into the corner keeping his eyes fixed on the remaining participants. There were supposed to be a bout yesterday after his fight. So that the winners of both battle royal may battle for the championship of the melee. But for some unexplained reason, his name wasn't registered as victor despite the tens of thousands of witnesses.

It was clearly a ploy and bearing witness to what he is seeing now simply proves that. This idiots were holding sharpened edges. And the way they spoke to one another tells him that they obviously knew one another.

'Most likely from the same 'company'.' he thought.

The blatant display was almost insulting. But To Arthas, this would be an opportunity. And he intends to make good use of it.

~~~ Break ~~~

The portcullis rose and Arthas was greeted by rose and flower petals. As the crowed went wild as they chanted his name.

"""Arthas! Arthas! Arthas! Arthas! Arthas!"""

Raising his greatsword with one hand made the crowed go wild with their cheers. Soon the fifty participants filled the arena. With not one person of note. Not even Gregor Clegane.

Walking to the other end of the Arena he then turned to face the gathered fifty. Further stirring the crowd. Arthas then stood sideways, holding his sword with both hands pointed backwards with his feet spread.

The signal came. "Begin!"

And like an arrow Arthas sprung forward, his sword already midswing before things could even register to the poor man. He was struck at the waist and folded and with the force of the attack and was thrown unto two others.

The rest were drawn back into reality as another was lunched off his feet making them draw blades. Their attacks were coordinated and obviously seasoned. But to Arthas it was still manageable as he manuvers around his opponents attacks and still slowly striking back.

Though his attacks were far in between, the frequency of Arthas' retaliation only increased as time passed. An hour passed and then *crack!*. One of them had just lost his knee. Another five minutes and two more followed, each losing their swords arm as it bent in the wrong direction at the elbow. Ten minutes more and four more fell as they too lost a limb. One was struck at the shoulder, the other the wrist, the other the ankle and the last one was dead as his neck snapped. Twenty minutes more and ten were injured while six were dead.

From there the remaining felt apprehension and fear as more and more of their comrades began to fall. But then they noticed it, the portcullis suddenly dropped. And on the other side was a knight holding a broken lever.

They were trapped and there was only one way out and Arthas was standing in their way. With his burnt cloak and hooded face he looked like death with a sword at hand. His blue eyes piercing through the shadowy veil. And looked to them with both anticipation and pity.

One of them tried to run for the gate only to be struck by the head. Bending it backwards unnaturally, he then fell on his knees and then crumpled to the ground with his head still hanging by his neck to his back. One more went for the gate and he too suffered as Arthas shattered his legs with his sword and with a strong uppercut followed by a spinning upwards swing the man rose ten feet off the ground and was then stabbed through the neck. The man retched as he was impaled through the sword and slowly he fell as his blood flowed through the sword to Arthas who did not place any care unto it. A few seconds after the man died, Arthas raised his blade and with a flick of his sword. The corpse flew and rolled to the ground.

They shook were they stood. Their eyes snapped back to reality as Arthas' boots scraped against the dirt and resumed his stance. His blade held to the side with both hands at the handle showing off his bloodied form.

Surrendering to fear. The remaining twenty rushed forward. Stab, slash, strike, parry, dodge, feint, block, all that he had learned he used against them.

None landed a substantial hit and with each passing minute, another one of them dies. But there was no turning back. And they knew it. So they rallied together and tried, another dead. Tried again, two dead. Again, dead, again, dead, again, dead, again, dead and again and again and again until...only three remained.

Each one bloodied, sweating, and hurt. But not broken. Fear and determination mixed within their eyes. Brothers. That much Arthas knew. They were young, too young to be there and with that he was going to have to end this fight.

Arthas rushed them. His shoulder pushing the one in the middle unto his back. His sword struck the one on the right but was guarded. The one on the left struck at him but Arthas spun around them and struck him from behind as he did. He then brought down his sword at the first one who barely rolled out of the way. And then spun with a backhand striking the second one by his jaw. Sending all three of them to the ground breathing heavily.

The cheers rose to the skies as the crowd went wild at their shouts and cheers. He then looked to one his squire by the other side and signaled him. Making Gawain raise the portcullis.

The loud clanking of chains took all of their attention. But before they could ponder on what it meant, the first one, the oldest felt heavy armored boots on his chest and a sword trained at him. Arthas loomed over him like an angel of death with his beautiful face standing in contrast to the armor he donned and the cold blue eyes that regarded his life with so little meaning.

He then spoke. "Who sent you?" Loud enough for all those close by to hear.

Knowing there was no other options he answered. "Jon Connington." Arthas then relented and then he knelt face to face to the oldest who now knelt.

"For what purpose?"

"To bring him golden locks of hair." cryptic but enough of an answer. Arthas smiled and then leaned in closer. His eyes indicating what he wanted. But before the man could try anything. "Know this sellsword, I am faster than your blade. And yes even at this distance."

Arthas then swayed his hair more with a playful smile. The man couldn't help but blush at him. He was too beautiful to be a man. That is if he hadn't felt his blade nor heard his voice.

He then grabbed a small knife and cut a few hairs. Arthas then stood up and offered his hand to the youth who eagerly accepted it.

The two watching the interaction sighed in great relief that they fell to the dirt with tears of joy streaming down their faces. After a few seconds they dragged themselves out of the Arena.

The master of ceremonies made his announcement and was drowned out by the crowed before he could finish. Arthas with his sword resting on his shoulder raised his fist high spurring the crowed. And with his name echoing across Harrenhal. His victory signalled the end of the melee.

'...just a little bit longer my dear...you are almost with me.' Arthas thought.

~~~ Break ~~~

The Joust. Simply boring...sadly as quaint and fancy their shiny armors were added with the over the top capes. It just doesn't live up to the hype of melee that had grasp the heart of the audience. And so polite clapping and small cheers were all that met those who participated.

Behind a thick grove of vines, broken walls and trees. Two people were conversing at one another.

"I am here. Now release her." said Arthas.

"No, that is not the agreement. I will release her once the prince wins his prize." said a hooded Connington as he held a knife at Sif's throat.

Arthas studied her. She was bruised in her face. A brutal slap for sure. But her clothes, were unblemished. Completely brand new. And that in itself sent red flags upon his head.

Connington spoke seeing the frown in Arthas' face.

"Do not worry boy. She is unharmed. Had to keep some men from forcing themselves on her but yes. She is unspoilt."

"...so you want me to lose right?"

"Not just lose boy, I want you to lose to the prince."

"...very well...but I want assurance. You let her go, I let him win."

"You don't get to negotiate with me boy!"

"I do actually. You and I both know as skilled as Rhaegar is, he will lose against me still. So you will give me this. Or I will humiliate him."

"You dare!-

"I dare! Yes I dare! You are a petty man with selfish ambitions centered not around yourself but your beloved, Prince Rhaegar. That is how I know you can't be trusted with this! Not just her life but your word in itself is questionable! So tell me...what will it be!"

".....so be it. I will let her go." with that he left with a handful of men and Sif surrounded at the middle.

Once they were a fair distance away. "...follow them. But do not let yourself be seen."

"...yes my lord." whispered a feminine voice.

Arthas pondered upon his choices. He had sent the children with the Stark's to the Riverlands after the tourney. His five men are still learning various crafts from various masters in Harrenhal and as is instructed, remaining unknown to the public. And his squires will soon be knighted. Living him open once more to make as much moves as he wish.

Only Sif remains. And though it saddened him to have to give up Rickard Stark's offer. He knew he had no choice. As Sif's life is on the line. Luckily for him, he had succeeded in warning both Lyanna and Cersei of what he had to do last night.

'Once I have Sif back...I will end you Connington!' Arthas thought.

~~~ Break ~~~

Time passed to a blur for Arthas as he dismounted opponent after opponent in effort to reach Rhaegar.

The crowed watched his success with vigor. As no one has lasted more than one tilt against him. Now he only have to face one more opponent. Ser Barristan Selmy.

The tilt began with both riders clashing against one another. And surprisingly Ser Barristan held on after the first tilt. The first one to do so. And the crowd loved it.

Three tilts. That was how much it took to take down the old man. He was skilled, very skilled. But it just wasn't enough.

The final bout finally came. And out rode Rhaegar Targaryen donning his signature black armor with red cloak emblazoned in his chest with the Targaryen family crest. Unblemished and without a scratch. His silver hair flowing with the wind giving him his princely aura.

From the other side rode out Arthas in his white armor with blue cloak. Scratched and dented with a bit of dirt at the edges of his cloak. His battered armor stood in contrast to his confident form. Giving him an aura of strength.

They both met at the center and gave a bow to the King. Who pointedly ignored them for some reason.

And then rode off to their respective corners.

After being handed their helmets, the people didn't miss the heated glares the two were sending each other. But most of the people hardly cared as it simply added more story to the final battle.

Reaching for their lances. The two entered a stand off. And while Rhaegar was focused, Arthas was seething. He wasn't seeing Sif anywhere. Then he saw Jon Connington just behind the prince, again without Sif. And this pissed Arthas off.

'so that's how you to play it Connington. Fine. I'll give you something to be afraid off.'

"Begin!"

Rhaegar rode fort against Arthas. And while Rhaegar slowly lowered his lance, the crowed was confused when Arthas didn't. He hunched his back and then *crash!* *crack!*

Rhaegar's lance snapped against Arthas who remained seated and unmoved by his strike.

The cheers of the crowed fell on deaf ears as Arthas turned his head and glared at Connington who was looking at him with wide eyes that shifted to anger as he glare back.

"You want to play Connington. Fine! Let's play." said Arthas as he urged Maximus once more.

Again Rhaegar crashed against Arthas who simply shrugged off his strike with his shield. And while Rhaegar's lance had to be replaced, Arthas raised his in display. Showing he had yet to use his all the while glaring at Connington who's face has started to become red.

Another tilt, another lance and again, Arthas remained seated. Another tilt this time Arthas raised his lance as he hunched forward with his shield and again endured against Rhaegar.

Now there was a shift in the crowd. Laughter can now be heard on a few as the Silver Prince failed time and time again to dismount Arthas from his horse.

This pissed off Connington as he pulled Sif into Arthas' eyes and then held a knife against her kneck drawing a bit of blood. It made him pause, that was until he saw her eyes once again. It was the same eyes he had seen in her earlier on. A stoic face that demanded strength.

This sent Arthas off as he urged his horse forward. But this time he lowered his lance. and with a thrust, struck Rhaegar's shield complete throwing off his shield arm.

And as soon as Arthas was close by to Connington again. He shouted. "LANCE!" Letting the Lord know of his growing anger.

Another stare down occured before Arthas urged Maximus once more and again with another thrust, complete removed the shield from Rhaegar. And with the sheer force of his strike, nearly threw off the prince and would have been dismounted had he not let go of his own lance.

Again Arthas glared at Connington and bellowed out loud. "LANCE!" Letting the man know that his anger is not subsiding.

Connington knew them he had no choice. And despite his anger that demanded he slit the whore's throat. He decided against it. As his prince wanted something, and helping him achieve it takes priority. So with reluctance he let Sif go. Who was met with Mordred under hood and cloak and ushered her off followed by Gawain and Percival.

After that, Arthas merely shook off Rhaegar's attempt. And the laughter became more pertinent. There was mockery mixed in it and it was pointed at Rhaegar.

And just as the next tilt started, Arthas saw Sif with his trusted squires. He then swiftly dropped his lance, and then urged his mount off to the raised portcullis on the other side, dodging Rhaegar's lance that scraped across his shoulder.

As Arthas rode off and didn't look back, the crowd simply stood rooted as they did not expect him to do so. And while the highborns clapped and cheered. The masses laughed and mocked at the silver Prince. It was after all obvious.

He lost no matter what anyone said.

Seeing the crown of winter rose being placed at the tip of his lance. He decided to shake the duel off his mind and then rode to where Lyanna was seated.

The girl was stoic. With an expression as cold as ice and hard as a rock. Ignoring the gnawing feeling within him, he rode passed his wife and then placed the crown at Lyanna's lap.

The noise died down. Until only silence enveloped the arena. Suddenly Lyanna stood up and then walked to Elia who held her daughter in her arms. And with a warm and apologetic smile, he placed the crown on top of the princess' head, and then walked away surrounded by her whole family and Robert Baratheon who openly glared at the prince.

No cheers or smile entered anyone's lips as the final bout of the Greatest Tourney in the Seven Kingdoms finally reached its end.