23 Ch. 23 Discussion

After a long moment of holding my hand in the air, Ser Barristan the Bold let go to the continued applause of the crowd. As I smiled and waved at the spectators, I couldn't help but think about that last tilt. Despite my hitting Ser Barristan exactly where I wanted, he was able to knock me off balance, resulting in me being unhorsed.

Looks like leaning into the tilt has a disadvantage after all. I was convinced such a subtle move to increase my striking power wouldn't leave me so open. Guess I still have much to learn if I wish to master the finer details.

"Come on, it's time to pay our respects to the king," Ser Barristan said from beside me.

With a nod of my head in acknowledgment, I lower my hand and wheel my horse towards the Royal Viewing Area. Ser Barristan and I halt our mounts before King Robert and Lord Tywin and bow our heads. As I'm raising from my bow, I notice the gobsmacked look on a newly arrived Jaime Lannister standing behind Cersei.

My smile slips when I catch the piercing stare of Lord Tywin. A marked scowl could easily be seen on his face. Tywin Lannister definitely doesn't look as happy as one would suspect in a time like this.

King Robert Baratheon glances between us for a moment before bursting out with a booming laugh. King Robert quickly glances over at Lord Tywin with a pleasant smile on his bearded face before turning to me. Standing up, Robert extends his right hand to the side.

"Sword," the king ordered to no one in particular.

Being the closest man around the king with a weapon, Jaime draws his sword and takes it by the blade. With a step forward, he places the hilt of his sword in Robert's outstretched hand.

Robert glances over his shoulder at the person who just handed him a sword, and smirks when he sees that it's Jaime Lannister. With a sword in hand and a smirk on his face, the king begins walking down the short flight of stairs. The entire walk to the jousting field, Robert has his eyes fixed on me.

"Get down here," Robert commands when he stepped off of the stairs.

My stomach is instantly thrown into knots, and I feel lightheaded. I attempt to smoothly dismount from my mare and slowly approach the king. Disbelief and astonishment are the only things I can say to describe what I'm feeling. I never expected this outcome.

"Your Grace," I respectfully say as I bow before King Robert. He's nearly a full foot taller than I am, but it feels like I'm standing before an actual giant.

"Lancel Lannister, what you did today," Robert loudly announced, "is something most seasoned warriors can only dream of." Robert finishes in a voice that carried over the hushed crowd.

Regardless of the strong odor of wine on Robert's breath, I don't believe he's so far drunk he doesn't understand what he's doing. The king's eyes are clear enough to tell me he's enjoying this moment.

"Kneel, Lancel of the House Lannister," the king boisterously commands, as a gasp flows through the crowd of people watching.

With a racing heart, I kneel and bow my head before Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

A metallic clank echoes through my ear, as the king laid the blade of the sword atop my pauldron. My breathing was shaky, and my heartbeat was pounding in my ears. I never realized how much I actually wanted to be knighted until this very moment.

With a solemn voice, devoid of all humor, King Robert began to speak, "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave." The sword moved from my right shoulder and laid on my left. "In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just." The sword steadily moved back to my right. "In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent." The left shoulder. "In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women." The right shoulder. "In the name of the Smith, I charge you to maintain your strength." The left. "In the name of the Crone, I charge you to accept wise counsel."

When King Robert placed the sword on my right shoulder for the last time, he pressed down heavily on the blade. I bore the weight without complaint. "In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to uphold your honor till the end of your days."

The sword lifted from my shoulder, and King Robert buried the tip of the blade into the dirt. With a thunderous bellow, Robert shouted, "Arise, Lancel Lannister, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms!"

*********

I stood in the privacy of a Lannister tent, trying to get a grip on this surreal feeling. I'm a knight now. Ser Lancel Lannister. The youngest knight in the history of Westeros. A full year younger than Daemon Blackfyre, the Black Dragon.

I knew I would be knighted one day, but I never assumed it would be at the age of one-and-ten. That may be why I feel so unworthy of such an honor. As if I'm a fraud.

The fact a starry-eyed squire, at least five years my senior, was helping me remove my armor also added to my sense of being a fraud. By the gods, I will train twice as much as before. Until I feel I am worthy of what has been bestowed upon me.

The Lannister squire was unbuckling the straps on my breastplate when the tent flap was suddenly pulled back. I watched as an elderly woman stepped into the tent. She was rather short, and her finely woven silk dress highlighted how thin she was. The wrinkles around her eyes stretch as she sends a scrutinizing gaze around the sparsely decorated tent.

I've never met her, but I know this woman to be Lady Olenna Tyrell, formerly of House Redwyne. The infamous Queen of Thorns and mother to the Lord Paramount of the Reach. As sure as I am of the old woman's identity, the nameless squire seems bewildered that a woman would enter one of the jousting tents.

As her eyes fix on me, I casually wave the squire away. "Thank you for your help, but I can see to the rest myself. If you could give us some privacy, I would appreciate it," I tell the confused squire.

"Yes, milord," the squire said before quickly retreating from the tent.

I grab one of the stools and place it between us. "Lady Olenna, please, have a seat," I say to the elderly woman.

"And what makes you think I have any interest in speaking with some green-boy?" Lady Olenna snaps in a haughty voice.

Seeing her attitude as just a ploy to anger me, I ignore the abrasiveness of your wit. "Suit yourself," I say as I hike my foot on top of the offered stool. "And I am sure you know who I am, my lady," I said as I begin unbuckling my sabaton and greave. I can't see her face, but I feel like she's amused.

"Oh, I know your name, boy," Lady Olenna said as she stepped forward and swatted my foot off the stool. "But outside of that, I've heard nothing but wild rumors about you," she finished as she took a seat.

"Then you need better spies, my lady," I calmly reply. With Tywin's warning still fresh in my mind, I think it's best if I avoid any topic of importance. "I assume you have decided to take matters into your own hands then?"

"One does wonder why Lord Tywin is going to such lengths to keep you hidden," Lady Olenna said as she purposely eyed the pitcher sitting on a side table.

"I'm afraid it's just warm water," I answer her questioning look about the pitcher, causing her to softly snort and turn back to me. "And my uncle is not hiding me. I am merely the eldest child of a second son." I state as I resume removing my armor.

"Don't play games with me, boy. I am well aware of the position you hold," Lady Olenna immediately rebukes.

I look away from my armor to stare her in the eyes. "And what position would that be, my lady?" I curiously ask. "Are you referring to nephew, squire, or perhaps blood relative?"

"Heir," Lady Olenna says in a drawn-out breath.

I can't help but scoff at her theatrics. It's rude but rather appealing at the same time. As if I'm chatting with a female version of Uncle Gerion. Which is probably what the old crone is aiming for!

"Lord Tywin has made no indication who he wishes to succeed him, my lady," I state more formally.

With a scoff of her own, "I have seen and heard plenty, that says otherwise." Lady Olenna said in an appealing voice.

I pause in the removal of my armor. Yup, she's definitely trying to play me. I can't just walk out on her, and I know she will win any verbal sparring I attempt. So I take the direct approach.

"Let us assume for a moment that you are correct. What does the matriarch of the House Tyrell hope to gain from a private meeting with the heir to Casterly Rock?" I openly ask.

With a teasing look in her blue eyes, "What do you think I'm after?" Lady Olenna asked.

I think over what she could be after, as I finish removing my armor. It's really not that hard to figure out. Unless she's working another scheme I can't see. Which is very likely.

"You are attempting to get an idea of, or begin manipulating, the future lord of Casterly Rock," I finally say after a long pause.

Lady Olenna tilts her head to the side with a mischievous look on her wrinkled face. "And why would I do that, dear?" Lady Olenna asked.

"House Lannister is the single most powerful house in Westeros," I begin.

"Debatable," Lady Olenna interrupts.

"No, it isn't," I immediately refute. "My uncle is a hard and ruthless man, and House Lannister has more wealth than the next two richest Houses combined. Lord Tywin would never accept a deal that didn't heavily favor House Lannister.

"Because of that, few outside of the Westerlands will even attempt to negotiate a partnership with him, let alone an alliance," I state. My comment about the wealth of my House is just a guess, but judging how Lady Olenna showed no sign of arguing it, there may be some truth to it.

"That's all well and good, dear, but you've not answered my question," Lady Olenna prodded.

"But I did, my lady," I reply. "You are trying to find out if an alliance between our Houses is possible under my rule."

Lady Olenna quietly stared at me for a moment. "You are a clever boy," Lady Olenna said with an odd tone in her voice. "You seem capable enough to succeed in anything you put your mind to. So tell me, why put so much effort into these little war games?" Lady Olenna asked.

I finish placing my armor on the rack as I answer. "Westeros is a patriarchal society, led by men that judge the capabilities of others based on these 'little war games'. I participate in them because it is expected of me." I casually say.

"Do you do everything expected of you?" Lady Olenna curiously asks.

I can't stop the smile spreading across my face. "Of course. When others assume to know what to expect from you, it makes them more predictable," I cheerfully tell one of the most dangerous women in Westeros.

Lady Olenna lets out a bark of laughter as she stands up. "Come, Ser Lancel, walk an old woman back to the viewing stands."

I don't hesitate to offer my arm to the Queen of Thorns, and I hold the tent flap back for her as we step out of the tent together. "The two of us walking together is going to have the other Houses talking," I say with a notable lack of concern.

"Let them wag their tongues," Lady Olenna said dismissively. "Tell me, dear, have you met my granddaughter?"