( PART I; a dreary existence. )
⟵ ◊ ⟶
chapter 7: the hand's tourney.

THE Sept of Baelor was quiet save for the footsteps of Raina and Malkyn as they entered its quiet walls. Near the center of the giant room was a platform where dozens upon dozens of candles burned, the flames wicking back and forth with the passing of Septa's. Years of hardened wax cascaded down the side of the stone structure, a testament to the devotion of the Seven's followers.

Raina followed Malkyn to the cushioned knee stool where the princess lowered herself down level to the platform. Raina joined her tentatively, dark eyes glazing over the flames in front of them. The two sat elbow to elbow amongst the candles glow, guards lingering in the distance with the promise of their protection.

The place felt foreign to the northerner, so cold and formal when compared to the Godswood in Winterfell. Nothing like the natural growth and fallen crimson leaves that floated in the pool before the face of the ancient weirwood.

"I come here when I need to get away from the keep," Malkyn murmured with her hands rested in front of her and clasped together. "Sometimes the doting of my mother becomes too much. Or her complaints. Both have become nuances to me."

Raina watched as Malkyn took a thin, resin-tipped stick and caught flame to its end by way of an already burning candle before lighting the wick of an available one.

"Why the candles?" Raina asked. The Old required nothing of the individuals that followed them, the innumerable nameless and faceless gods. Not even wild devotion.

"They're prayers we are meant to offer to the Seven, I'm told. For a loved one's memory or a blessing," she blew out the burning resin of her stick after lighting the wick of a misshapen candle. "I'm not sure I believe in any of it. Soon enough I'll be married off to a lord and I come here to offer up my hopes he is good and kind, if the Seven even listen to those types of pleas. This place turned into a refuge of sorts for me."

Raina realized how strange the life of this princess was. She was raised to such a high station all because of her birth, only for her to act as if she were trapped in the great keep she called home, the position she held in court. The bastard almost envied the princess for everything had, everything she was seemingly taking for granted. No— she did envy her. Raina would give anything to be a princess, with the security that title would afford her. The respect she would garner from those around her.

"I would light so many candles," Raina sighed. "If these foreign gods would hear me. But I am loyal to the Old."

Malkyn grabbed another stick, lighting it on a flame. "I don't think they will condemn you for lighting a candle," the princess said, offering it to Raina. "Lift your prayers up. It's good for the heart."

Hesitating, Raina took the stick before looking over the dozens of candles before them assuring herself the Old wouldn't condemn her for lighting a candle. What would she pray for, though? Bastards likely sent up the most prayers of anyone, begging for the chance at a better life. For change. Would the Old hear her here, in a foreign place dedicated to foreign gods? 

She'd pray for Jon. That he remained safe at the Wall, that he became the man he set out to be among the Night's Watch. That she would see him again. That her dire wolf, Stryder, was happy where he belonged amongst the snow and ice. That she would find fulfillment in this large city she now called home. 

Hand hovering over an unlit candle, she lit the wick and extinguished the flame on the stick.

"You are much different than I expected. You've grown much kinder to me," Raina murmured to Malkyn after setting aside the stick. She watched the smoke from the candles billow up as she spoke. "I admit I hadn't thought a princess would even consider taking a bastard as a handmaid. Or even acknowledge my existence."

Malkyn hummed a laugh, her green eyes continuing to look over the candles before them. "It must have been fate. You were the first individual I spotted during the feast at Winterfell that wasn't horribly drunk. So I enlisted your aid." She glanced to Raina and offered a feline-like smirk. "And I found you were an understanding individual. I had my reasons for choosing to take you as a hand maiden, Raina. One of them chiefly to displease my mother."

"Your mother didn't want you to bring me here?" Raina asked in a sudden jolt of fear, her heart fluttering. "Nothing appeared awry when I first met her..."

"She is well versed in wearing masks, I assure you. She didn't believe that a bastard should be in the service of a princess. But I got what I wanted, in the end," Malkyn sighed. "I do no care for the ladies of the court. None of them understand me. They flaunt falsities and kindness in my face only because they must." She sighed, shoulders slouching. Strands of her curly, golden hair that were not fashioned in into braids fell over her shoulder onto her breast. "But you understood me, as I've told you before. Did not shy away from me in Winterfell when I was brash or even cruel with my words."

The princess had been desperate for the comfort of another person, she realized. So lonely. And Raina had done what others couldn't. Looking beyond her haughty, arrogant attitude to find a girl who simply wanted to be understood. A reality that Raina understood all top well. She struggled to find her words for a moment, but eventually, they came to her amidst the silence the two sat within. 

"I chose to treat you the way I wished I would be treated." The years of verbal abuse from Catelyn. The ostracization from her own family. Simply growing up a bastard had indeed done its toll on her, but Raina lived out of spite. She'd come to King's Landing to thrive– and that she would. "I admit I saw an opportunity. To be in the service of a princess. To seek more than the walls of Winterfell. And so I chose kindness. Not for simply my gain, but because I believe the world could use more of it."

There was the truth. She hadn't acknowledged it to herself, but saying the words out loud made them real. She had wanted to be mean to Malkyn and thought she deserved the same treatment she was giving at Winterfell. But Raina had learned over the years that working hard to be a better person would benefit her more than allowing her heart to harden. The world didn't need more desolation.

"I am pleased we have grown to be so candid with each to other," Malkyn smirked. "With time, I am sure we shall see how this companionship will flourish."

Malkyn's warm hand slipped over Raina's where it rested on the stone platform. Surprise filled the bastard, but the princess's slight grip of reassurance eased her. She might have found a true friend in the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms.

❆

WITH a light heart and purpose in her step, Raina navigated the halls of the Red Keep in search of a book for the princess. It had become a ritual the two would take part in in the past weeks, multiple times a day taking breaks for Raina regale Malkyn with tales of history's past. They would end the night with Raina reading to the princess as she bathed in candlelight. Their friendship was growing strong and Raina was better for it.

Rounding a corner, Raina reeled to a stop as she found Arya balancing on one foot at the top of a small flight of stairs. All manner of concentration was written on her contorted features. Raina hadn't much time to be around her sister's or father since arriving, but it nice to run into them every so often or partake in supper.

"Having fun, are we?" Raina asked with a smirk as she crossed her arms.

"My dancing teacher says I must be as balanced as a cat," Arya stated, swaying slightly. "If I master their ways, I will be stealthy and quick." Raina hummed a laugh as Arya lowered her leg to stand normally. "A raven came. Bran woke up."

"Is he well?" Raina asked with sudden urgency, desperate to know if all would be well for him.

"He can't walk. But he's fine otherwise," Arya replied before going back to her balancing. "Do you think he'll be able to move here?"

"He would need to gain his strength surely," Raina replied. An easiness had settled over her knowing her little brother indeed survived his fall, despite the loss of his legs.

"He always wanted to be apart of the king's guard," Arya said while correcting her balancing. "Now he can't."

Raina frowned but was gentle with her words. "He will not. But there are many things he will be able to do as a lord. Like commanding holdfasts or raising castles. Let us be merry that he survived his fall, Arya."

"I want to do those things," she muttered.

Raina sighed, knowing all too well what it felt like to not be able to choose everything she got to do with her life.

"I know. But you will marry a lord and run his household," Raina reminded her gently. She felt like her father saying these things.

"That's not me," Arya replied with finality. She carried on with her balancing and that was where Raina left her. She wouldn't berate her young sister with her envy. That she yearned to be greater, yet Arya was disinterested to say the least.

Returning to the princess's quarters, Raina found Malkyn sitting at her dining table picking away at summer fruit on a silver platter. 

"Come, sit. The servants brought us fresh fruit from Dorne and the Reach," Malkyn said by way of greeting. "Just arrived today."

Raina made her way over, setting the book she'd retrieved after her interaction with Arya on the table. Dates, plums, oranges, grapes. The variety never seemed to end on the platter on the table and Raina plucked a grape and popped it into her mouth. Flavor covered her senses and she hummed in appreciation. Aside from snow berries and other hardy fruits, the north did not offer such flavor.

"We've a tourney to attend in the coming days," Malkyn informed her as she was deciding which fruit she would pick next. "In honour of your father's appointment as Hand."

"I've never been to such an event," Raina remarked. "They aren't much a thing in the North."

Malkyn shrugged but smiled. "It is to be quite lavish, I hear. And will be a delightful distraction for the court. Enough that we may be able to sneak off on our own in search of better entertainment."

Raina smiled in acknowledgement before turning to more important matters. "A raven arrived. My brother has woken up."

"That is good to hear," Malkyn said, choosing an orange slice. "I heard it was a great fall. I'm pleased to see he survived."

Raina only lamented that she hadn't been there for him when he woke up.

❆

THE tourney came quickly, lords and ladies of all stations journeying to the capital to take part in the festivities in celebration of Raina's father and his new position as Hand.

Hundreds of small folk had come to witness the jousting, lining the timber rails erected along the sand runway. From where Raina sat toward the back royal dais, they looked like a sea of browns, greys, and greens, with a few bright colors amidst the simple cotton and wool.

She felt out of place sitting on the king's dais under the shade of the canopy that hung above them. She'd been allowed to sit near Malkyn to provide anything she needed, but she was not to sit among them as if she were a royal herself. On the other side of the princess was her queen-mother, followed by her father, and then Joffrey and the other two children.

Her father and sisters were likely seated somewhere below. Knowing her father's simple tendency, she knew he wasn't embracing the festivities of the tourney.

"This heat is insufferable," Malkyn sighed in exasperation. She fanned herself aggressively with her hand, her cheeks flushed. "How are you not melting?"

Raina was melting. The heat that had come with the day was perhaps the most unbearable heat she'd ever experienced in her life. Yet, she'd refused to complain or even show her discomfort. Not when she felt the burning gaze of Joffrey just feet away.

His green eyes had focused on her on and off, she'd noticed. Whenever he grew bored of waiting, he looked her way. He would grin, seemingly enjoying her discomfort.

"I am," Raina bit her lip before turning her attention entirely to Malkyn in effort to ignore Joffrey's games. "It is never this warm in the north."

Malkyn sighed in exasperation, fanning herself more quickly. "Those summer snows sound quite delightful right now."

Raina couldn't agree more. She thought she might sink into a drift of the icy substance with her bare skin if she could. If it would stifle the unbearable heat she was suffering now.

"I am missing them now more than ever," Raina sighed, then a spell of waiting ensued.

"Get on with it!" King Robert eventually howled drunkenly from where he sat, cheeks beat red and stag-horned crown sitting atop his greying brown hair. He'd grown tired of waiting. "We've not got all day."

Luckily, the complaints of the King spurred some activitiy. Two knights emerged at the opposing ends. Raina craned for a look from where she sat, pearing through the many heads blocking the way in the near distance.

"Ser Gregor Clegane!" A Carl announced.

The Mountain road down the path on his midnight black destrier, donning dark armor and an imposing height. Raina could scarcely understand how a man could grow so large the closer he grew. Recalling what he did during the Sack of King's Landing when she was but a babe, she grimaced to herself. The man that stopped his horse before the dais had done unspeakable things to Princess Elia and her children.

"And Ser Hugh of the Vale!"

Ser Hugh rode up near the Mountain where he sat on his horse before the dais, seemingly a freshly knighted individual based on his glistening, new armor. The two of them lifted the covers of their helmets and bowed to the king in respect before Robert gave his permission for the events to commence. The two knights proceeded to ride to their opposite ends to retrieve their lances.

"Prepare yourself," Malkyn warned Raina with a hushed voice. "This spectacle may prove to be bloody."

Raina had heard of tourney's and their spectacles, about how gorey and deadly they were. She was unsure if she was ready to watch it all unfold in front of her.

Ser Hugh sat atop his horse at one end of the lanes, a lance being handed to him by a squire. He secured the lance in his grip before lowering his viser. At the opposite end, Ser Gregor's dark stallion shifted impatiently in anticipation as the Mountain gripped his lance with ease.

The stark difference between the two knights was unsettling. The Mountain was a behemoth, likely capable of crushing a steel breast plate with a single punch. She'd heard of what he'd done to Elia Martell and her poor baby Aegon and young daughter Rhaenys, an image she'd been unable to shake since the first she'd heard of it. For a moment, Raina truly feared for Ser Hugh's life

The excitement for the event rippled through the crowd like a shiver, building with tension until the horn was finally blown. The knights leapt toward each other, their lances aimed true. Raina felt her belly leap as they careened down their respective lanes, horse hooves meeting the soft earth with a muffled cadence. They closed in on each other with each stride, until finally a lance met it's mark.

With a snap of a wood and a shatter of splinters, Ser Hugh was dismounted unceremoniously. Raina gasped along with the crowd, her dark eyes intently watching for a sign of life amidst the flurry of movement. With his horse continuing on down the path, the knight had landed harshly on the dirt. Freehly forged steel met dirt with a crunch. Frantically lifting his viser and working at the straps of his helmet, Raina saw the spurts of crimson that fountained from Ser Hugh's neck.

Her features contorted into horror the longer she watched. Ser Hugh spit blood in his panic before ultimately going limp, the last moments of his life wasting away in fear. The crowd leered silently as squires moved to drag his body away, one of them stepping aside to unleash the contents of his stomach.

"I did warn you," Malkyn stated grimly as she fanned herself. "The Mountain holds a dark reputation, I've heard. He shoved his younger brother, the Hound, into a fire, burning his face. It is no wonder he took Srr Hugh's life. Yet another example of why these events are so cruel."

Raina's gaze moved moved the spot where Ser Hugh had died until she caught a glimpse of the Hound where he stood near Joffrey. At the grizzly scar he bore.

"It's tradition," Malkyn's father lightly chastised her despite his drunkeness. "These men strive for the chance to take part in a royally hosted tourney."

"It does not make it any less brutish," Cersei said softly to Malkyn as Robert turned his attention back to the event and his cup.

The Mountain returned to his position unfazed, behaviour she thought was scarier than what he'd just done. Raina bit her lip as she watched a new knight make his way before the dias and noble seating, his white mare prancing beautifully.

"Ser Loras of Tyrell!" The Carl announced.

Despite the horror she'd just witnessed, Raina could scarcely recall ever seeing a man as beautiful as the one she lied her eyes upon. His armor was artistic, shining and lavishly detailed. His short brown hair appeared feathery soft as it flowed behind him, a gleam in his green eyes. A red rose was clasped gently in his gaunleted hand before he reeled his horse to a stop next to the nobles seated in the wooden stands along the lane.

Craning for a better view, Raina watched Ser Loras gift the rose to none other than Sansa before steering his white mare toward his position at the end of the lane.

She prayed to the Old that Ser Loras would not meet the fate of the knight before him.

The two knights mad their charges down the lanes twice, managed to mark true but leaving neither of them injured. The Mountain's stallion appeared jittery and more wired than he had before. Only once the third round came did everything unravel.

Ser Loras's lance met truer than anyone else's had that day, it seemed, as the Mountain was dismounted by the Rose knight. The giant landed on the soft earth with a crunch of armor at which Raina grimaced at the sound of it.

As Ser Loras was bowing in victory to the cheering crowd atop his mare after reeling her to a stop, the Mountain seethed as he managed to get to his feet despite his armor. Without a word of any inclination of what he would do next, the giant of a man yanked away his helmet and chucked it at the dirt as he made his way toward his stallion. Pulling his longsword from his sheath, he nearly beheaded the animal at the neck in one swift movement.

The animal squealed in agony before crumbling to the ground, it's half attached head bent unnaturally into the dirt. Blood flowed like a river from its exposed arteries.

Raina gasped in such shock, her hands subconsiously covered her eyes as quickly as she was able to process what had happened. Only once she'd gathered her thoughts amidst the gasping and cries around her did she realize Malkyn hand had gripped her forearm.

The Princess had been entirely right. This event had proven bloody indeed. Raina was unsure she would ever be able unsee what she'd just witnessed.

The Mountain then turned away from his freshly slaughtered mount, his sites set on Ser Loras. The moment the Rose knight caught site of the Mountain barreling towards him, he tried reeling his horse around to flee. But he was not quick enough before he was yank from his seat.

Only a quick reaction of pulling his blade from his sheath saved his life. Ser Loras parried the best he could, stumbking through the dirt with terror on his features, but the Mountain's blows were growing harsher and harder to deflect. When he finally tripped on his steps, Raina knew he was done. With the Mountain raising his blade, there was no way he'd survive.

Yet, he did. With the sudden interception of the Mountain's own brother, the Hound, was Ser Loras able to scramble away. But slight was not taken lightly, as Gregor would not stand for his younger brother interrupting his rampage.

The two siblings engaged in a flurry of swinging blades, strikes so hard and well placed Raina was sure someone was to lose a limb or their head. Yet, the Hound held his own. Little did she know she was at the edge of her seat, her breath stuck in her lungs as she watched.

The world around her didn't seem to matter the longer she waited to see who would soon perish grusemly before her.

"STOP THIS NONESENSE AT ONCE!" Robert howled from where he'd been seated, now standing. Raina flinched at his booming voice, her wide eyes darting to where he stood a few feet away. He'd thrown his chalice to the floor, the contents spilling on the wood of the dais like spilled blood.

Instantaneously, the Hound lowered himself into a kneel on the dirt just within a hairs length, escaping the swipe of his brothers blade. The Mountain displayed no sign of respect to the king as the crowd leered in silence once again, until he ultimately spat at the ground stomped away.

Raina's nails dug into her hand as she tried processing everything that had just happened. She turned in on herself, escaping to the safety of her mind.