' Spear, Heart and Crown '

Hello everyone, I would just like to make a brief announcement:

With this chapter I have marked the milestone of 100,000 words written....

Thank you all very much for your continued support and encouragement! I assure you that a me 6 months younger would be in disbelief and amazement at this milestone.

I'd just like to take a moment to commemorate a faithful companion of mine...'Thank you Asus Notebook!'...you've served me for 6 honorable years of service...you've dropped 98,804 written words...but I know you've done everything you could to hold on to this milestone!

Sorry to interrupt, and happy reading!!!!!

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POV: Leobald Tallhart;

Torrhen's Square.

One day after a certain receipt was delivered....

Leobald Tallhart was facing the crowd, in the middle of the jousting track set up in a few months.

"Lords and Ladies, people of the North... At last, the competition we have all been waiting for will begin... The Seven Kingdoms have been mocking us for our lack of jousting skills... I think it is time to change their minds... What do you think?" Leobald asked, giving the crowd time to respond.

"YEEEAAAA!!!", "THE NORTH IS NO DIFFERENT!!!", "YAY FOR THE TALLHARTS!", "GET STARTED!", "WE WANT TO SEE THE MERRY-GO-ROUND!"...

"CALM DOWN, CALM DOWN... THE CHALLENGE WILL SOON BEGIN... BUT BEFORE INTRODUCING OUR FIRST TWO WORTHY COMPETITORS... LET ALL THE LADIES OF THE NORTH ADMIRE THE 'CROWN', WHICH WILL GO AS A PRIZE TO THE LUCKY LADY CHOSEN BY THE CHAMPION...'QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY'!" Leobald, gave the signal to the two assistants to uncover the freshly forged jewel....

An exquisite crown, which at first glance seemed to be made of flowers... appeared... The jewel, shining in the soft sunlight of that half-cloudy day.

"MADE BY THE BEST JEWELLERS IN TORRHEN'S SQUARE!" Leobald said, first showing the cushion, with the crown on it, to the nobles.

A few female cries of excitement were heard... even some:

"I WANT IT!!", "WYLIS, YOU MUST WIN!". Somewhere...

Leobald, was still skeptical of his nephew's request to create such an artifact...Just of material costs alone: platinum, gold, silver, sapphires and emeralds, they had spent 1,500 G.D...the goldsmiths and jewelers had worked non-stop for an entire month, to make the artifact.

"WHO WILL BE THE CHAMPION?...AND WHO WILL BE THE LUCKY WOMAN TO BE UNCONCERNED...SHALL WE FIND OUT?!!!"

End POV.

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POV: Jory Cassel

Torrhen's Square.

Five minutes after some crazed Ladies screamed....

Jory Cassel, the young, new captain of the Winterfell guards, in direct service to Lord Eddard Stark, mounted his horse. He had just donned his father's armour, forged and adapted by Mikken, the master smith of Winterfell.

He was ready to joust...

His young squire, Harwyn, handed him the jousting spear made of wood. Immediately, Jory galloped briskly towards the centre with his opponent... a boy not much older than himself, named Peter.

Lord Leobald Tallhart had just announced the names of the competitors, and was about to start... but first, the two riders would have to pay their respects and greetings. A strange rule set by the Tallhart family...Normally, the two competitors in a tournament would only have to pay their respects to the organisers and guests of honour...but since the joust was not very famous in the North, no one gave it any importance.

"Good luck, Captain Jory Cassel. I wish you both an honest and hard-fought challenge." Peter said, lifting the slit in his helmet to show his face.

"You can just call me Jory, if it pleases you, Captain Peter. I wish the same and may the best man win." Replied Jory

"I will call you Jory, only when you cut that unnecessary and pompous 'Captain', from my appellation." Peter said, pounding his fist on his chest and raising his hand immediately afterwards. A sign of greeting and respect shown between knights.

"Ahah. As you wish...Peter." Jory replied, giving a slight smile. He then returned the greeting and after a glance of understanding, they both, prepared to their respective positions.

Jory reached the starting position and grabbed the shield offered by Harwyn. He lowered the slit in his helmet and raised his spear upwards first. Peter returned the gesture 200 feet away... both riders spurred their respective horses... The jousting officially began.

Four broken spears later...

'Urgh...His defence is tight and tight! He hits like a hammer on an anvil...yet he has a similar physique to me...how does he unleash that force of impact?!' Jory thought, trying to move his sore left shoulder.

His opponent had already broken four spears in his favour... Jory, had barely broken one on his shield.

'I can't keep this up...another couple of impacts and I won't be able to hold the shield anymore...If I want to win, I have to risk it all and try to unhorse him!' Thought Jory Cassel with determination.

Jory and Peter were ready for their fifth charge...

The Captain of Winterfell, spurred the horse with more determination...he had to pick up more speed, if he wanted to get the force needed to move that centaur-shaped rock...

200 feet... 150... 70... When the two opponents reached 20 feet, he leaned forward as far as he could, giving up the defense completely...

"SDRUUSHTT!!!"...

Time slowed down...Jory, managed to catch a glimpse, for a moment, of a yellow sphere covered in clouds...it had to be the sun...then, the vision was blurry and shaky, until a strong impact brought time back to its normalcy.

"NIIIII!!! HIIIII!!!", "WOOOHAA!!!", "YEEAAHH!!!"...

Nitrites, verses of astonishment and jubilation, managed to distract Jory from the annoying sand in his eyes and the excruciating pain that pervaded almost his entire body...

After a few seconds, he was able to hear:

"JORY! JORY, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! CAN YOU STAND UP?" Shouted a voice, which he identified as Peter's.

"I think so...argh!...you've torn me apart Peter...good shot!...hahaha!" Responded with difficulty, the newly unhorsed knight.

First, Peter unfastened Jory's helmet to give the poor man some air. Then he helped him up.

"HE'S OK! HE'S ALL RIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DON'T WORRY!...A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR TWO HEROES!" Shouted Leobald promptly, reassuring the people in the stands and the crowd.

"YEEAAAH!", "BRAVO!!", "CLAP! CLAP!, CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!", "PETER WON!!!".

Jory, gathering every ounce of strength he had left, grabbed Peter's arm and whispered in his ear:

"Peter, try to hold on to me when I lift your arm."

End POV.

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POV: Jorah Mormont;

Torrhen's Square.

Two days after the start of the joust...

"Do not wish me ill, Lord Jorah...my Lady wife demands that I win! I will not go easy on you, my lord." Said Ser Wylis Manderly, first son of Lord Wyman Manderly and heir to White Harbor. The young knight, not too fat but certainly sturdy, tried to intimidate and distract Jorah with those words.

"No hard feelings whatsoever Ser Wylis...I too will not hold back, may the best man win, Ser." Jorah replied with a look and a voice that expressed 'iron determination' in every way.

Wylis was slightly shaken by the Hellbear who was craving a slice of Wylis... but he tried not to let it show.

Jorah quickly trotted over to his assigned position....

'One more win and then I'll face that Peter in the final...I MUST WIN!' Jorah thought as he closed the steel grip of his hand on the spear...

The Lord of Bear Island managed to hear a voice from the noble stands.

"COURAGE COUSIN! YOU CAN DO IT! KNOCK THAT FAT, CONCEITED MAN OFF HIS HORSE!" Shouted a young female voice, unafraid of the repercussions of such words.

"WYLIS! MY LOVE! WIN FOR ME! TEAR THAT MAN APART!" She roared, in response to the offence she had just suffered, at her husband, Lady Leona Woodfield squaring with an enraged look, the child with no demeanour.

Jorah smiled inwardly as he heard the words of his most ardent supporter...though he had hoped the voice was another.

Despite everything.

Jorah had never felt so strong and determined as he did before... every part of his body was bursting with energy, ready to explode at any moment. Even his red stallion seemed ready to charge and leap at any obstacle or danger.

Jorah Mormont no longer cared about the winner's prize... he only had eyes on that 'Crown'...

'I must win it at all costs!' He thought before charging forward.

Time slowed down...Jorah, was focused on the 'here' and 'now'...nothing mattered to him anymore...only his spear and his target. He could hear his breath echoing inside his beautiful bear-shaped helmet. All his concentration focused on his right arm and his target, which was getting closer and closer... He was waiting for the right moment... The moment to unleash the immense force that was raging inside him...

100 feet...80...40...20...

'NOOWW!!!!' He thought, before roaring with all the breath in his lungs.

'UUUAAARGHHH!!!'

"SKABOOHUSSH!SCRECHH!!!!!",

"WHOOOAAARRGH!!!"

"NOOO!!!!! WYLISSS!!!!"....

"YEEEESSSSS!!! AHAHAH!!!"

Ser Wylis Manderly was not only unhorsed...but the man, weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds, was sent flying through the air at least ten feet long before landing on the ground...

Hundreds of arrow splinters flared up from the explosion of Jorah's spear.

The crowd in the stands cheered on their feet, applauding the incredible spectacle they had just displayed.

The horrified shriek, of Lady Leona Woolfield, had frightened some of the spectators...but no one could tell if it was due to concern for her poor husband's health, or the fact that she had lost the opportunity to be crowned.

On the other hand, it took two Mormont men to calm the excitement and euphoria of little Dacey Mormont.

Jorah, looked for one among the stands full of Lords and Ladies... and found her.

An extreme feeling of pride and hope grew within him as he caught a glimpse of a smile on the woman's face.

End POV.

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POV: The hope of the North;

Torrhen's Square.

Half an hour after Ser Wylis Manderly was dragged off the field by three men....

Peter, one of the two finalists in the tournament, was inside his tent, sitting in a chair staring at a handkerchief embroidered by the Soapmaster's daughter, Betty.

Betty, approached him, right after winning the first competition against Jory Cassel. Peter had been trying to woo her for almost four years. Peter had always been brave like his father, Tom, not afraid to face danger. He would gladly give his life in service to his house. His only real weakness was, and always had been, 'talking to a girl'... Several times during his life, he had made embarrassing gibberish and stutters in front of all the girls who had had the misfortune to meet him.

Today he was finally going to shine... he was going to prove his worth to everyone. Although Lord Jorah Mormont was a hard man, and perhaps even more dangerous than his master Galladon Sand, he felt confident about the next contest. Within minutes he would be called. He had already donned his splendid armour, forged by Will himself. A gift from Lord Helman Tallhart, to encourage and reward him for working so hard to represent his House in this Tournament. He was even given the honour of having the young Lord, Duncan Tallhart, as his squire.

This was undoubtedly the most important day of his life.

'I must win! For my Lord, for the House I serve, for Betty and for my Masters, I absolutely CANNOT LOSE!' Peter thought determinedly as he clutched the pledge of his beloved Betty.

A few seconds later, a four foot tall figure with white hair and green eyes entered the tent and approached Peter.

"My Lord!" Said Peter as he stood up and gave a bow.

"Peter...this is the fourth time I have told you...I am your 'SQUIRE.'...you need not bow and call me, 'my lord'...it is I who must serve you." Said the boy in a slightly exasperated tone.

"I beg your pardon, my lord...I meant...my squire." Peter.

"Never mind...Peter, in less than ten minutes the final will take place. I need you to listen to me carefully. House Tallhart, needs you, now more than ever..." Said Duncan in a serious tone.

"Anything, my...squire. I promise to give my all to win the final. I will bring honour and glory to House Tallhart and Master Zich!" Peter.

"Peter...you must lose the final." Duncan.

"..."

"B- but my Lord. Why must I lose?! Why?! I can do it! I can feel it! I've been training hard for this moment!!! You can't ask me that, my lord! Even if I don't succeed, I can never lose voluntarily! There is no honour in such actions!" Peter replied, trying to speak as fast as he could. The boy was more confused than ever.

"Peter...the reason why, I personally begged Maester Zich to help us, was so that you would 'make it to the final confrontation'. Now House Tallhart is asking you to make this final sacrifice for us and for the good of the North!" Duncan tried to explain, clearly and calmly.

"But...my Lord...I..." Peter.

"There is not much time, Peter listen to me...You will have to joust and resist trying to make a convincing fight in the eyes of all...when you get to the fifth spear...you will have to let Lord Jorah Mormont unseat you. Do I make myself clear?" The boy asked, grabbing Peter's face. The boy was shocked, disappointed and confused.

"I'm sorry, my Lord...I...I CANNOT!" Peter replied, staring for a moment at the handkerchief tied to his wrist.

Duncan noticed the handkerchief and sighed a sad sigh....

"Peter...it's for that girl isn't it? Are you thinking about Betty?" Duncan.

"....Yes, my lord. I beg your pardon for my selfishness...but I absolutely cannot miss this opportunity...I love Betty, my lord...I have always loved her! Since I was ten years old!" Peter replied with a desperate and indecisive look.

"Peter...I really...I really didn't want to tell you...Not like this, not in this moment..." Duncan took a moment staring at his loyal Captain with a sad and sorry look.

"By now...almost everyone in Torrhen's Square knows...and you will soon find out as well..."

"What are you talking about, my lord? Know what?" Peter.

"Betty...Betty was never really interested in you, Peter. She's just playing you and exploiting you as much as she can..." Duncan admitted.

"NO! That's not true, my lord! She even gave me her token! SEE FOR YOURSELF, MY LORD!!!" Blurted Peter in a state of shock handing the handkerchief into the boy's hands.

"Yes Peter, she did...but when exactly?" Duncan asked trying to get Peter to the crucial point.

"You...after I won the first fight, my Lord...Why do you ask?" Peter asked unable to come to a conclusion.

"That's not quite right Peter...Betty gave you her token, 'AFTER' she saw the 'Crown of the Beauty Queen' and only 'AFTER' you won the first fight..." Duncan.

"I...I don't understand...Betty...She..." Peter was in total shock...his mind refused to understand, for the sake of the entire organism he was running.

"Peter...forgive me for what I'm about to say...but trust me it's for your own good...Betty is already officially engaged to Ragnar Beywoolf...first son of Lord Morgar Beywoolf, our vassal.... Betty's father and Lord Beywoolf asked my father's blessing and permission...about two moons ago...She's using you Peter...she just wants that jewel...I'm sorry, Peter...I really didn't want to be the one to tell you this..." Duncan explained in a sincere and sad tone.

Peter remained silent for at least three minutes. His gaze stared blankly...as if it had gone blank.

In the meantime Duncan, who really didn't know what to do in this difficult situation, continued to lightly pat the poor boy's armoured shoulder...

Time was running out and Duncan couldn't wait any longer...even though he thought the job was pretty much done by now...he had to be sure...there was always the chance that Peter would go mad with rage and take out all that negative energy on Jorah Mormont.

"Peter, listen to me. I'm sure you'll find the right woman one day. I will personally help you look for her, I promise my friend...but now is not the time to think about that...the next confrontation could determine the fate of the entire North." Said Duncan, trying to pull the distraught boy to his feet.

"MY LORD, IT IS TIME! PETER MUST APPEAR FOR THE FINAL MATCH!" A herald warned from outside the tent... Peter gave no sign of reaction...

Duncan was forced to use heavy weapons...

"SLAP!!!" "SCHIAFF!!!" "PETER GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!", "CAN YOU HEAR ME!", "SLAP!", "DAMN IT PETER!".

Three loud and painful slaps, hit the young Knight's face.

Before the fourth came, Peter recovered and said....

"Yes, my Lord. I will, for the sake of House Tallhart... I will lose!" Said Peter in a mechanical voice. Probably his survival instinct drove him into a 'voluntary apathetic' state, to momentarily cut ties with all those negative emotions that were torturing him inside.

"You are our hope Peter! YOU ARE THE HOPE OF THE ENTIRE NORTH!!!"

End POV.

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POV: An undecided lady;

Torrhen's Square.

Five minutes after a boy's heart was broken....

Lady Barbrey Dustin, was sitting in the second row, in the stands set aside for the nobility, next to her sat her brother-in-law, Lord Roose Bolton and his son Domeric.

She was looking forward to this final....

Inside, she had secretly been rooting for Lord Jorah Mormont....

The woman, having lost their little wager, had danced with the man again that evening. To repay the debt to the man...but then the evening digressed into pleasant chit-chat with the latter, for over two hours straight.

They had continued to joke around playfully and make other small bets. They were trying to guess, the order of 'who', of the clinging wife-seeking suitors, would ask for yet another dance with the poor Lady of Barrowton...

The evening was pleasant and amusing, the best she had spent in this week of suffering and annoyance.

Lady Barbrey, she had secretly made a pledge for Lord Jorah...but she didn't have the courage to give it to him. She had been keeping it in her sleeve for two days...but at least she had bet 20 gold dragons on the underdog Jorah Mormont, odds of 10/1.

The woman, besides being hesitant to open her heart to another man, could not have given Lord Jorah false hope anyway...she had made a deal with a demon...and she had set the most annoying clause of all.

Lady Dustin, would have to wait another two years, before she could meet Duncan Tallhart's 'candidate'. After that time, she would again be free to act as she saw fit...she could not go back on her word, so as to appear weak, fickle and indecisive...Not with what was at stake...she was to become 'The most powerful, influential and wealthy woman in Westeros'...and such power inevitably dragged with it responsibilities and duties.

'Two more years, Barbrey.' Thought the woman for the umpteenth time.

'LADIES AND LORDS...THE LONG-AWAITED MOMENT HAS FINALLY ARRIVED...WHO WILL WIN THIS FINAL? WHO WILL BE THE CHAMPION OF THE JOUST? WHICH LADY WILL BE CROWNED 'BEAUTY QUEEN'?... LET THE SPEARS DECIDE! LET THE TWO FINALISTS DRAW NEAR! OVER HERE, WE HAVE THE YOUNG CAPTAIN OF TORRHEN'S SQUARE....PETER!" The announcer paused for a moment for applause....

Strangely, the Knight did not follow normal etiquette, and walked towards a group of young women on the front row of the fence...

"AH, OUR CHAMPION WILL PROBABLY WANT TO ACCEPT A PAWN OF LOVE...NO...IT SEEMS NOT...I MEANT TO SAY THAT HE WANTED TO, 'RETURN' A PAWN, EVIDENTUALLY NOT VERY GRADUATEFUL...LET'S GIVE HIM A HEAVENLY APPLAUSE LADIES AND LADIES." Leobald announced, a little taken aback by the strange actions of Tom's son.

Barbery noticed that one of the girls in the group walked away embarrassed and red as a pepper from the wooden fence to the audience.

She also noticed that one man, who looked familiar, in the audience, was shouting more than others...

"COME ON PETER!!! YOU MUST WIN AT ALL COSTS!!! FOR THE SAKE OF THE TALLHART HOUSE!!! WIN DAMMIT!!!" Shouted a man with foreign features...he looked like a scribe....

'That...isn't that Zeugh? The bookies' manager?' Lady Barbrey thought as she recognised the man who hesitantly accepted her bet two days ago.

"OVER HERE, WE HAVE, OUR SECOND FINALIST, THE PROTECTOR OF BEAR ISLAND....A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR LORD JORAH MORMONT!!!" Cheered Leobald, pointing to a knight clad in a splendid plate armor of forged steel, in the likeness of a bear, enameled in dark brown, riding a gorgeous red stallion.

"YEEAA!!", "LORD JORAH!!", "WIN COUSIN!!! YOU CAN DO IT!!", "CLAP! CLAP!", "CLAP CLAP!"...

"LET THE FINAL BEGIN!" Leobald retreated, bowing to the crowd.

Peter and Jorah Mormont, approached to offer their good wishes and respects to each other.

After a minute, before the two knights, began to joust, Barbrey was certain that for a moment...just for a moment...The Bear Knight turned in her direction....

Then the challenge began...

"SDRUUS!", " CRARKSHH!!"

"WHOOAAA!!!"

Both knights managed to break the first spear by hitting each other. It was a draw...

The second charge...

"CRARKSHH!!!", "SDRUUSSHH!!".

The result was almost identical except that Peter seemed slightly more shaken by the second impact...

Third charge...

"SDRUSSHH!!"

Jorah was ahead 3 spears to 2...

Fourth charge...

"SCRASHH!"

Peter hit the target by deflecting Jorah's spear with his shield...but Jorah resisted.

'Come on, Jorah! Hang on!' Barbery thought instinctively as he saw the man shaken for a moment....

Fifth charge...

'SCARADHUSSSS!!!', 'NIIII!!! HIIIII!!!"

"WOOOOOAAAA!!!" Thundered the crowd, surprised by the scene.

'HE DID IT!!! HE WON!!!!' Barbrey clenched her fist, unable to hold back a smile....

Jorah's opponent, Peter, was completely unhorsed... his horse lost control, crashing into the wooden railing... luckily the boy had flown away from the beast... and even managed to break his fall by spinning deftly on himself...

"GREAT!!!", "CLAP, CLAP!", "CLAP, CLAP!" "LORD JORAH!!!", "YESSS!! HE WON!!! HE WON!!! SEE?! WHAT DID I TELL YOU?! NO ONE CAN BEAT A MORMONT!!!".

Confusion was everywhere, hundreds of people continued to cheer... there was even a man who lost consciousness and fell to the ground...

"You look very happy, son..." Said Roose Bolton seeing the abnormally euphoric state of his son Domeric.

"Yes father, I do apologise...This challenge has been...very exciting, I will try to control myself more." Domeric replied as he sat back down and composed himself.

"Mm...I understand...Never mind. Just try not to imitate Lady Dacey Mormont. I'm glad you're amused." Lord Bolton.

"Yes, Father." Domeric.

"MY LADIES, THE MOMENT YOU HAVE SO LONG AWAITED HAS COME...LORD JORAH, CHOOSE YOUR 'QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY'..."

Jorah Mormont, wielding a new spear, gripped the platinum headband decorated with gems and jewels with the tip...

Silence hung over the square...

Jorah, rode slowly towards the noble stands...

'Oh NO!...No my lord!...not here...don't do this...please don't do this...' Thought a hesitant woman...

A spear, reached out towards a woman sitting in the second row, between a man and a pale faced child...

More than ten thousand pairs of eyes stared at Lady Barbrey Dustin, moniker 'The Widow of Barrowton'.