A Soldier Adrift: Captain Westeros

Like every other day so far, the morning saw the sun shining in the sky, and Steve could hear discussions about the end of winter and the coming of the spring. As had become their habit, they took breakfast at the table in the central room of their tent, front flap open so as to watch the people who went by. As Steve had been the focus on the day of the melee, and Kedry the previous day for the joust, now it was Toby’s turn, and he chattered excitedly.

“‘M gonna ride Qēlos for sure,” Toby said, naming one of Kedry’s three horses, a brown palfrey. “Malorie’s great but she’s slower, n’ Redbloom’s got that bitin’ habit.”

“You don’t want to ride your new friend?” Steve asked. Toby had tracked down the hedge knight who had unhorsed Stokeworth within an hour of starting, and the man had been delighted to sell him for the gold offered.

“Nah, dunno enough about ‘im yet,” Toby said.

“When does the race start?” Robin asked, munching on some bacon.

“Ninth hour,” Toby said, “outside the south gate.”

“You are jousting again today Kedry, yes?” Naerys asked.

“Not until this afternoon,” he said, “but yes.”

Kedry had done well for himself the previous day, the nobles he had unhorsed netting him sixteen gold dragons for their equipment.

“Race’ll be done by then, for sure,” Toby said. “‘S not that long.”

“What’s the track like?” Steve asked. He hadn’t heard many discussions about the horse race, being of ‘lesser’ prestige as it was.

“Loops out east, to the river, then across it n’ back,” Toby said. “Finishes back where it starts.”

“Will we watch from the walls again?” Naerys asked. “The view was better than I had expected, when it wasn’t obscured, at least.”

Toby nodded. “That, or ye can follow along ahorse, takin’ shortcuts so ye can watch us go by,” he said.

“I’d probably fall off trying to keep up, even with shortcuts,” Robin said. “I’ll go up the wall again I think.”

“Following on horse sounds interesting,” Naerys said. “I haven’t taken Swiftstride out since we’ve arrived here.”

“I think I’ll join you, Naerys. Fury could use a run too,” Steve said.

“He liked the melee the other day,” Toby said. “Fightin’ n’ the runnin’.”

Steve glanced over at Kedry, to find the man studiously busy with his breakfast. “You’ve been spending most of your time at the stables, right?”

“Yup,” Toby said, pinning a piece of bacon to his plate with a fork and tearing it apart with his teeth. “There’s some real innerestin’ types in there.”

“Horses or people?” Steve asked.

Toby made a noise of agreement as he chewed through a mouthful of food.

Kedry gave a defeated sigh. “Perhaps for the best I never attended the feast,” he said. “I would have clipped him about the ear before the appetisers were finished.”

Toby began to make a noise of protest, but thought better once he saw the look Kedry was giving him, and focused instead on not choking on his meal.

Breakfast was soon over, the utensils dumped in a sawn-through barrel full of water to soak for later cleaning, and the group began to gather what they needed for the day. A bowl of water was prepared for Dodger, along with a quickly demolished plate or breakfast leftovers, as the canine settled in to watch over their belongings while they were gone. Steve had little worry for the substantial amount of coin he had earned, locked in a small chest and concealed amongst their food as it was. If someone even thought to look there, they’d still have to get past the dog.

“I’ll see you guys after the event by the gate?” Robin asked, as they gathered at the front of the tent, scratching Dodger behind the ears in a last goodbye.

“Sure,” Steve said. “You sure you want to watch from the walls? We could make it work if you wanted to ride with us.”

“I’m sure,” Robin said, making a face. “I’ll probably see more from up there than I would on a horse anyway, watching the reigns constantly.”

“You’ll pick it up,” Steve said, perhaps a little more ominously than he had intended. “Pity you don’t have some binoculars or a telescope.”

“Do you mean like a Myrish eye?” Robin asked.

“Is that an extending tube with a lens at each end?” Steve asked.

“Those are expensive, for maesters and lords and the like,” Robin said. “My eyes are just as good, anyway,” he said with a boast.

“Could be handy to have one anyway,” Steve said. “How much would one be?” He looked to Naerys.

“Depends on where you buy from, who you are, and how good it is,” Naerys said. “A few gold at the least.”

“Something to keep in mind,” Steve said. “See you later Robin.”

Robin gave a two fingered wave, and they parted ways, Steve, Naerys, Kedry, and Toby headed for the stables while Robin made for the south gates.

The tent village was picking up for the day, many rousing themselves for their event of choice. Some wore armour that suggested the joust, while others were in light riding gear, suggesting their interest lay in the horse race. Most seemed caught up in their own concerns, giving little thought to Steve’s party as they walked along the lanes, but as they neared the stables, a voice called out for Lord America, bringing them to a stop. Turning, they saw a man approaching hurriedly.

The man was a servant, dressed in the colours of his lord, and he gave a slight bow as he addressed them. The green and yellow of his tunic gave him a washed out, pasty look.

“My lord has bid me to inquire as to the ransom of his arms and armour from you, Lord America,” he said. “He understands that you were accepting ransoms in the tavern the night before last. I have been instructed to offer twenty gold dragons.”

“That’s right,” Steve said. “Your boss couldn’t come see us himself?”

“He has taken poorly, my lord,” the man said.

Steve glanced at the colours on the servant’s tunic again. “What did you say his name was?”

The servant hesitated for a long moment. “Lord Hayford, my lord.”

Steve frowned, and the servant swallowed nervously.

“Naerys?” Steve said, half turning to her and making clear that it was her decision.

Naerys smiled. It was not particularly pleasant. “Lord America will of course honour the demands of chivalry and offer to ransom the arms and armour of any man who faces him,” she said, voice demure.

Relief began to break over the servant’s face.

“Of course,” Naerys continued, “that also assumes that his foes have shown the same degree of chivalry and honour to him and his.”

Relief rapidly turned to dismay.

“When Lord Hayford apologises to Lord America and his retinue, in person, for his boorish behaviour at the welcoming feast, as well as his unknightly conduct during the melee, Lord America will be happy to offer his armour for ransom at the very fair sum of eighteen gold dragons,” Naerys finished sweetly. “Can you give him this message, word for word? And make sure you tell him who said it.”

“I will relay that to him,” the servant said mechanically.

“I appreciate that,” Naerys said. She pressed a silver coin to the servant’s hands. “For your trouble.”

“Thank you, milady,” he said. “M’lord,” he said to Steve, before turning and setting his shoulders, like a man headed to battle.

There was a pause.

Toby gave Naerys a thumbs up, looking impressed. “Ain’t heard someone told to get fucked all polite like that before.”

Kedry raised a hand, but instead of clipping Toby over the ear, settled for patting his shoulder.

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be kinder just to kill him?” Steve asked, smirk tugging at his lips.

Naerys blushed. “I gave him a month’s wages, he’ll be able to find other employment if he has to but ooh, I wish I could be there to see that beast Hayford’s face when he hears!”

“Sounds like you’ve been holding that in for a while,” Steve said, as they started walking again.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Naerys said. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to bite my tongue when some fat lord said something awful? I’m not some bastard girl anymore, I’m a bastard girl with money and a powerful patron, so they can just stick it.” She took a deep breath.

“Well said,” Kedry said.

“If you want to give that speech in person, there’s still Longwaters,” Steve said.

“I won’t need to,” Naerys said. “He’ll hear about it. By the end of the day, half the servants in the castle will know what I said to Hayford, and that it was a bastard that said it. Their reputations are sunk.”

“Nat would have liked you,” Steve said. He gave her a one armed hug.

Naerys froze briefly, but returned the hug in kind. “Thank you, Steve,” she said.

“C’mon,” Toby said, pulling ahead of the group. “Let’s go already.”

“No point in waiting,” Steve said. “Let’s go watch the mountain boy win five thousand gold dragons in a horse race.”

That startled a laugh from Naerys and a smile from Kedry, and they pressed on, catching up to Toby. The day had barely begun.

X x X

Pennants, black and yellow, flapped in the wind atop poles marking the path the riders were to follow, heading east from the road outside the southern gate, before disappearing into the woods on the far side of a field. On the road was a mass of men and horses, most of them slight of build and unarmoured. Steve reckoned there to be as many as three hundred participants, mostly younger or older nobles. Toby was still one of the youngest, and one of the few not in some finery or another.

Out of the way, to one side of the gathering was another mass of riders, although this one was more varied. Men and women, young and old, noble and not, many had gathered to spectate the horse race. There were even a few younger children sat in the saddle with their fathers, mothers sat sidesaddle nearby. This group, to which Steve, Kedry, and Naerys belonged, had their own flag markings to follow, and a path that would take them by the most direct route to the best places to watch the riders pass by.

“Seems chaotic,” Steve said, looking at the herd of competitors. Fury was calm after a bit of disagreement with Redbloom earlier.

“They’ll stretch out soon enough,” Kedry said. “The only choke is where they have to retrieve a token across the river.”

Naerys made a questioning noise. She sat sidesaddle on Swiftstride, the mottled grey palfrey munching on apple slices she kept feeding him.

“Proof that they rode the full course and didn’t turn back early in the mess,” Kedry said. Redbloom was eyeballing Fury again, and Kedry scratched him behind the ear to distract him.

At the direction of a race official, the crowd of riders spread themselves out, giving each of them their own bubble of space. The crowd was wide rather than deep, and Toby was two rough rows back from the front, whispering in Qēlos’ ear.

Off to the side, another man in Whent colours raised a horn to his lips, and blew a short blast. A hush fell in its wake, as the racers all leaned forward in their saddles, tension mirrored in their mounts. The moment stretched out.

The horn blast sounded again, and they were off, those in front seeking to get clear of the pack and those behind seeking to get past them, a cloud of dust kicked up in their wake. The thunder of hoofbeats was near deafening.

“Let’s go!” Kedry called over the noise, prodding Redbloom into a gallop.

Steve and Naerys followed him, Fury and Swiftstride eager to run, and soon they were leading the pack of spectators following the path to the next observation spot, skirting around the woods that the race wound through. Naerys clung gamely to her saddle, riding sidesaddle as she was, but if they went much faster than they were Steve thought she might have some trouble.

“Should have worn trousers!” Steve called to her.

“To a social event?” Naerys replied, voice raised.

“If there’s horses involved, yeah!”

“One day I’ll have you understand why that’s a poor idea, Steve,” Naerys said. “One day!”

“Not today though,” Steve said, grinning.

Naerys rolled her eyes at him, and focused on staying in the saddle.

Steve was sure he’d heard of a special type of saddle that made riding side easier, but he put it from his mind for later. They had made it to the first spectating point, and they came to a stop with a clatter of hooves just in time to see the first racers emerge from the treeline.

Toby wasn’t in the lead, nor was he second or third. A steady stream of riders came, and some of their fellow spectators rode on ahead as their own companion appeared and passed by, until Steve caught a glimpse of blond hair and a familiar brown palfrey, the white star-like splotch of colour on its head drawing the eye.

“There he is,” Naerys said, pointing.

As they watched, Toby and Qēlos ducked around a pair of men on destriers fighting for primacy on the narrow path and darted ahead, eyes already fixed on the next rider.

“He’s in a good position,” Kedry said, smiling wider than Steve had ever seen him. “On to the next!”

They wheeled their horses around, spurring them onwards to the next watch point. The sun shone down upon them, and Steve found he was enjoying himself. The ride was longer this time, but they arrived in time to see the first of the racers emerge from a gulley between two hills. Again, Toby wasn’t in the lead, or part of the main pack that was starting to break away from the body of the riders, but he was not far behind. He had managed to pass a few of the racers Steve had seen him behind before, and as the path turned to climb the eastern hill, they saw him overtake two more, Qēlos taking a small rocky outcropping directly with all the surety of a mountain goat, rather than going around like many other riders were.

Again, they turned for the path, riding quickly to ensure they wouldn’t miss Toby as he came through, and again, they arrived just before he did, in time to see he had passed another rider or two. Steve whistled at a particularly daring move, as Toby pushed through a small gap between two other riders, jumping to kneel in the saddle so to avoid having his legs crushed in the press.

“That boy is half horse,” Naerys said.

“You’re not wrong,” Steve said.

Three more times they rode ahead, and each time Toby was a few places closer to the lead. He seemed to treat the obstacles as challenges to overcome rather than delays, and in his wake, perhaps emboldened by his success, others attempted to imitate him. Some succeeded, most did not, their mounts not expecting the sudden jump or sidestep or scramble uphill.

Finally, they came to the top of a small hillock, where the path they were following turned back the way they had come. From the hillock, they commanded a view of a river that flowed into the lake, and Steve recognised it as the one whose banks he had fought Markus of Strongsong upon. Across the river was a pair of wooden poles, a line of rope strung up between them, and on that rope was tied countless small squares of black and yellow cloth.

Below them, the racers rounded the hillock, putting on a burst of speed as they sighted the river and the halfway mark. As they drew closer, however, they saw what Steve up high could see easily; the most direct path to the tokens was deeper than their horses could likely stand, and with a two foot drop off to the water to boot. The leaders began to head downstream, towards a shallower section they could likely ford safely.

“Here he is,” Steve murmured as he saw Toby.

The kid had again made gains, and as he saw the river he grinned, leaning forwards as Qēlos broke into a gallop unprompted.

“Don’t do it Toby,” Kedry said. “Don’t you do it.”

“What is - oh, that’s risky,” Naerys said, seeing the same thing.

Qēlos had broken into a gallop, but not to catch up with the leading pack who had just reached the water’s edge - he was running straight at the deep part of the river, making a beeline for the tokens. With a bunching of muscles and a leap, Qēlos was airborne, sailing off the bank to land in the river with a great splash. Toby came free of the saddle, but it was deliberate, and he landed in the water beside his mount, one hand still gripping the saddle. Boy and horse began to kick and swim, making for the far bank.

“That boy…” Kedry muttered to himself, watching as Toby reached the halfway point.

“I think it’s going to pay off for him,” Steve said. A few long moments more, and Toby was hauling himself back onto Qēlos, water streaming from them both. They emerged from the river just as the lead pack passed them, in time to join at the back.

The other spectators on the hill had seen the feat too, and Steve could hear impressed murmurs, even a few wondering who had sponsored Toby.

There was a brief scrum at the closest section of the rope holding up the tokens, as each rider sought to get their scrap of fabric and get out, but before long the entire mob was heading back towards the river, passing the next closest group on the way. Toby took the shallows with the rest of them this time, and soon they were pelting along the base of the hillock opposite to the side they had arrived on. Steve turned Fury back to the west, and they took off down their own path, heading back towards the castle and the finish line.

As they had on the way east, they made it to each watch point just in time to see the frontrunners ride through, and as before, Toby was a little closer to the front of the pack each time. The leading pack itself was beginning to stretch out a bit, as some riders who had pushed their mounts to get clear of the bulk of the racers found their horses beginning to flag. At the same time, the true leaders were extending their lead, training and breeding showing true in their stamina and the skill of their riders.

At the second and third watch points, they could see that Toby had seemingly come to the end of his progression through the ranks, unable to catch up and pass the next rider.

“Qēlos just isn’t fast enough,” Naerys said, even as they watched Toby make up some ground on a tricky turn, only to lose it on the straight afterwards.

“Not against those horses,” Kedry said, mouth pressed in a line. “She’s a fine mount, but not dedicated to speed. Not like the others.”

“It’s not over till it’s over,” Steve said. “He could still do it.” There were only seven or so riders ahead of him now.

“I have hope,” Kedry said, but his tone said it was a faint one.

Finally, the spectator’s path brought them back to near the starting zone, trees and bushes passing in a blur as they rode. The castle was to their right, and to their left, the riders would ride down a switchback trail on a steep hill before galloping along the final straight to the end, marked by another rope suspended between two poles and doused in white chalk. There were only a few riders with them, most still watching the rider they supported further back along the track, but one group was the family with the young kid sharing the saddle with their father. A larger crowd of folk on foot also waited, eager to see the finish.

“Here they come,” Steve said, as he sighted the first rider appear atop the hill. A moment later the crowd saw him too, and they began to murmur excitedly.

A second rider, a third and a fourth, then a fifth and a sixth came into view, taking the trail down the hill, before finally Toby appeared, his figure small compared to the others. He seemed to pause for a moment, taking in the trail ahead and the riders already making the first and second turns on it.

“Oh gods dammit Tobias,” Kedry said.

Atop the hill, Qēlos reared back, letting out a defiant whinny that echoed against the castle walls. Then, boy and horse plunged down the hillside, ignoring the path entirely. Dirt and rock were kicked up in their wake, as they half rode, half slid down the hillside. In moments, they had already passed the next two riders ahead of them.

Back amongst the spectators, others were noticing the blond boy’s mad gambit, pointing and shouting.

“He’ll kill himself and the horse, surely,” a man’s voice said. Steve looked over to him, and saw it was the father with his kid. They had the dusky skin that he was beginning to associate with Dorne.

“All life is risk,” Steve said. “You just have to be good enough to overcome them.”

The man glanced over to him, not having expected a response to his words, and Steve gave him a friendly nod. The man returned it.

“If he makes it he’ll be right behind Arron,” the woman, likely his wife, said.

Steve had no doubt he would. Halfway down the hill now, Toby and Qēlos raced down in what was closer to a controlled fall than proper riding, but with an ease that made it look like they were floating. Another rider was passed, then another, and Steve could see them gaping at Toby as he went by. The kid was in third place.

“Look out you daft boy,” Kedry muttered to himself.

“He won’t be able to avoid that,” Naerys said.

Steve saw what worried them; a tree on the hillside lay directly in their path. Their pace and the steepness of the hill removed any chance of steering around it, and attempting to slow would only see them lose their footing entirely. They neared it, seconds from impact with a low, thick branch. Qēlos ducked under it, leaves brushing her ears, but Toby looked to take the impact right in his chest - and then he rolled out of the saddle.

Gasps echoed from the crowd, all eyes fixed on the most daring rider yet in it, as Toby clung to the side of his horse by hand and foot, his other hand almost brushing against the ground. They passed under the tree, and he dragged himself back on, none the worse for wear, just as they reached the base of the hill, and the final straight...in second place.

The race was still yet to be decided, but the crowd was already cheering and hollering at the display of horsemanship they had seen. Toby ducked low against Qēlos’ neck, the kid doing everything he could to coax forth one more iota of speed from the palfrey, eyes fixed on the finish line and five thousand gold dragons.

As they thundered onwards though, Steve’s keen eyes saw how the race would end. It was down to speed now, no more chances for Toby to take advantage of his greater skill, and the man in front was stretching his lead, his golden mount swift as the wind.

“Damn,” Kedry said, seeing the same thing Steve could.

“It’s not over till it’s over,” Steve said again, though he knew his hope was a fragile one.

They watched in silence, hoping against hope for the leader to stumble, or for Toby and Qēlos to pull off a miracle, but it was not to be. A scant dozen heartbeats later, and the man on the golden mount crossed the finish line, carrying the rope with him as he did. Five horse lengths behind him was Toby, inches ahead of the third placed rider, Qēlos stretching her head out to beat him across the line.

“That’s my boy!” the woman said, already riding towards the winner, her husband in her wake.

“Did you see that son?” the man said to the kid on his lap. “Your brother won!”

Whatever else the family said, Steve didn’t hear, as he followed Kedry and Naerys over to where they could see Toby, already dismounted and standing before Qēlos. The crowd on foot, more well dressed than smallfolk but not nobles themselves, were being kept back, but no attempt was made to stop those who knew the riders, and soon they were before the kid.

Kedry swung off his horse and swept Toby into a hug before he could say anything.

“K-Kedry!” Toby complained, voice muffled.

“I’m very proud of you, Tobias,” Kedry said. “Never do that again.”

“That was very impressive,” Naerys said, likewise dismounting. “I’ve never seen riding like that before.”

Steve slipped off Fury and stepped up to Toby, just released from Kedry’s clutches. “Good job, sport,” he said, ruffling his hair as he beamed down at him.

Toby glared up at him, but made no move to push his hand away. “Was half Qēlos,” he muttered.

“Good job, Qēlos,” Steve said, sparing Toby and moving on to rub her neck.

Qēlos whickered, sides still heaving as she took great breaths, and Toby gave a short whistle, turning away. “She’s thirsty,” he said, heading towards a series of troughs that had been set up to the side of the castle gates.

They followed the boy and his horse, their own mounts also seeming interested at the mention of a drink. Soon, all four horses were drinking steadily, and they turned to watch the rest of the riders begin to stream across the finish line.

“You pulled off some slick moves in that race,” Steve said. “I’ve never seen a horse so sure footed.”

“Or a rider so skilled,” Naerys added.

“Ma told me I was born on a horse,” Toby said. “Dunno how true that was.”

“I’d believe it,” Steve said.

“Is there a prize for runner up?” Naerys asked.

“Not for the horse race,” Toby said, gloomily.

“The money doesn’t matter,” Kedry said firmly. “You showed your skill today, and beat many other riders on faster horses.”

“Five thousand gold though,” Toby argued.

“And what would you have spent it on?” Kedry asked.

“Y’know,” Toby said. “Stuff.”

Kedry made an unimpressed sound.

“Hail and well met, Lord America,” a voice interrupted them.

They turned to see the family who had ridden beside them for most of the race, and who they had spoken with briefly, but they were also joined by the young man who had won the event.

“Congratulations on the win,” Steve said. “Good to meet you too…?” he said, holding out a hand in greeting.

“Arron Vaith, son of Lord Vaith of the Red Dunes,” he said, clasping Steve’s hand. He was a slim man, barely taller than Naerys. “And thank you. This is my father, Lord Deryk Vaith, my mother, Lady Tyta, and my favourite brother, Ythan.”

As they were introduced, the man and woman gave polite nods.

“Only brother,” Ythan said quietly, the young boy half hidden behind his father.

“This is Naerys, Kedry, and Toby,” Steve said. He was probably making some minor social faux pas again, but this was a casual conversation so he was going to be casual.

“I was too focused to see it during the race, but Father told me of your feats afterwards,” Aaron said. “Had you been riding a better horse, I suspect my victory would have been a much closer thing.”

Toby got a mulelike look on his face that Steve was beginning to become all too familiar with. “Nothin’ wrong with Qēlos,” he said, challengingly.

But Arron took no offence, nodding along. “Of course,” he said, “There is something to be said for a favoured mount, even if there are others faster or stronger.” He looked Qēlos over with an experienced eye. “She’s of Vale stock?”

“That’s right,” Kedry said, and it was only Steve’s familiarity with him that he could tell it was guarded.

“Good lines,” Deryk said, before smiling to reveal pearly white teeth. “Not as good as my sand steed, but…”

His wife slapped him lightly on the arm. “Boast after your own victories, husband,” she said.

“But this was House Vaith’s victory,” Deryk protested, but he was grinning.

“Yer horse is pretty fast,” Toby admitted. “Don’t think he’d like to carry much weight though.”

“That’s true,” Arron said freely. “Sand steeds are not the largest of breeds. I did not approach you to discuss horseflesh, interesting as that is, however.”

“After I told my son that a young boy was his closest competitor, he insisted on speaking with you,” Deryk said. “When I told him of your skill, he asked something of me.”

“I’ve been winning races for a few years now, and I’ve made it a habit to share a small portion of my winnings with the runner up, should they give me a good race,” Arron said. “That hill though…” he shook his head. “I would hesitate to take it the way you did.”

“‘S not that hard,” Toby said, looking at his feet.

“I think some would disagree,” Arron said. “So I have an offer for you: one hundred gold dragons, or a horse from my father’s stables, a sand steed of Dorne. What say you, young man?”

Naerys leaned in to Steve, whispering quietly in his ear. “This is an offer to you as much as Toby. When one House reaches out to another, something like this is the first step.”

Steve glanced at the family. Arron was looking to Toby, smiling, but Deryk and Tyta were watching Steve.

Rather than interject his own opinion, Steve looked to Toby. The kid was wracked with indecision, visibly weighing up the lure of fistfuls of gold against the draw of a sand steed. A look at Arron’s golden mount as it was tended to by a servant nearby swayed him.

“The sand steed,” Toby said.

“Excellent choice,” Arron said. “Come, we should pick out your new mount.”

“I gotta look after Qēlos,” Toby said, but he was fidgeting with eagerness.

“I’ll take care of Qēlos,” Kedry said. “You go meet your new friend.”’

“Right,” Toby said. He pressed his head to Qēlos’ for a moment, and then he was off, leaving Arron to hurry to catch up. A moment later, Ythan darted away from his father’s side, rushing after his brother, and was picked up and settled on the young man’s hip.

“Youth,” Deryk said, approaching Steve as they watched them go, even as Tyta began to speak with Naerys. “But then you are still young yourself.” He stroked a short beard that was as much salt as it was pepper.

“I’m a touch older than I look,” Steve said wryly. “Toby has a habit of making me feel the years though.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, is he yours?” Deryk asked, glancing at Naerys.

“No,” Steve said. “That’s uh, no.” He could feel the tips of his ears redden.

“Apologies,” Deryk said, “it was just the hair, and the eyes…”

“Don’t worry,” Steve said. “My home doesn’t view the whole bastardy thing the way a lot of Westeros seems to.”

“Bah,” Deryk said. “Blaming the child for the sins of the parents, and what a sin it is,” he said.

Tyta said something to Naerys that made her blush scarlet, but both women were hiding smiles. Naerys’ gaze flicked over to Steve and her blush only intensified.

“How did you come by your steeds?” Steve asked.

“House Vaith is the greatest breeder of sand steeds in all of Dorne!” he said. “It was my grandfather’s father who started it…”

As their mounts drank their fill, Deryk regaled Steve with his passion for horse breeding, and Steve found himself interested despite himself.

“But that’s enough about me,” Deryk said at length. “You’ve done quite well for yourself in the melee, or so I hear.”

“I think I did alright,” Steve said. “The final should be interesting.”

“‘Alright’ he says, “‘interesting’ he says, against the likes of The Bold and all the rest,” Deryk said, shaking his head. “Had I not watched the melee, I would call you overconfident.”

Steve just smiled. “Are you entering any of the events yourself?”

“No, I was always one for the horse racing rather than the more prestigious events, and now my son has surpassed me,” Deryk said. “I am happy to watch him now, and bask in his reflected glory,” he joked. “You and your retinue seem to be doing well for yourselves; are you entering any more events, or will you content yourself with the melee, the joust, and the race?”

“Robin, another companion, is in the archery, and I like his chances,” Steve said. “I’ll also be in the axe throwing.”

Deryk shook his head. “Everything but the contest of singers,” he said. “How do you like your chances at the axe?”

“Oh, I think I’ll do alright.”

Something about Steve’s tone caused Deryk’s gaze to sharpen. “You use this word ‘alright’ and I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“I don’t like to brag,” Steve said.

“And if I were a betting man? Would you still say you would do ‘alright’ in the axe throwing?”

“There might be some money to be made with a few bets,” Steve said.

“Surer bets than the melee was?” Deryk asked, leaning in.

Steve thought about the difficulty he had defeating so many knights in the melee, and compared that to the difficulty of getting something sharp and heavy to go where he wanted it to. “Yeah.”

“Tyta!” Deryk said to his wife, drawing her attention away from her conversation with Naerys. “Lord America tells me he’ll be competing in the axe throwing, and he’s feeling confident.”

“Confident,” Tyta said, looking Steve over. She was a slender woman, with dark hair and darker eyes. She tapped a gloved finger to her lips. “You want to put some money on him.”

Naerys’ eyes lit up. “They won’t know not to give you good odds.”

“‘They’?” Steve asked.

“The bookmakers,” Naerys said. “The odds on you for the melee aren’t as favourable as they were, but I doubt they will have adjusted the axe throwing.” She began to mutter sums under her breath.

Tyta looked to her husband. “I suppose that answers that.”

“Lord America, I hope this may be the start of a profitable friendship,” Deryk said, offering his hand.

Steve took it, and they shook. These Dornish types weren’t too bad.

X x X

Despite the excitement of the race, it was not the only event they had to attend that day. Kedry’s next joust was upcoming, and they spent an easy few hours first seeing to their mounts, then relaxing and discussing the events. They took a light lunch at the Hunter’s Hall, before Kedry departed for the jousting field alone to prepare, as was his wont. A short while later they followed him, making for the spectator stands in hopes of finding some seats in the stands.

“‘M gonna call him Quicksilver,” Toby said, almost floating as he walked ahead of them. They had left the castle walls a few minutes ago, and were partway down the path to the jousting fields.

From the way the kid was acting, Steve thought he might have been happier coming in second and getting a new horse than if he’d won the race outright.

“Isn’t he red?” Robin asked. He’d quickly been filled in on the events during and after the race after he’d come down from his perch on the castle walls.

“Yeah, so?” Toby asked.

“How’d you hear about quicksilver?” Steve asked. It wasn’t exactly iron or copper.

“Kedry,” Toby said. “‘Is parents told him ‘bout warlocks over in Yi Ti who thought it’d make em live forever.”

“Have you named that black beast yet?” Robin asked. “He’s got to be five times your size.”

“Khal,” Toby said. “Stoketwat named him sommat stupid, I bet.”

“A much better name,” Naerys said, over serious.

Toby nodded. “Khal’s are them horse lords over in Essos,” he said.

The path to the jousting wasn’t busy, but nor was it empty. The crowds coming to watch had worn it down, but thankfully there hadn’t been any rain. There were still three more days of jousts before the finals, and most of those who cared to spectate were already there. It was only those like Steve and his companions who were coming to watch a particular match, or who had had other business to attend to, that were arriving now.

Toby continued to gush over his two new horses, Robin prodding him on as Steve and Naerys walked behind them. Before too long, they had reached the stands, and all that was left to do was find a place to seat themselves.

Raised voices behind them drew Steve’s attention. It seemed they weren’t the only group to arrive halfway through the day, and he turned in time to see Ned Stark and what he’d bet were two younger siblings approaching from the same direction they’d just come. The probable siblings were arguing loudly, and Ned’s stride was quick, his face akin to that of a hunted man.

“...telling you Ned, I could have entered and no one would have blinked an eye!” a teenaged girl said. Her long hair was brown, her eyes grey, and her nose was screwed up in indignation at Ned.

“I wasn’t the one to make the decision, sister,” Ned said, in the tone of a man who had been repeating himself for some time. “Take it up with Brandon, or Father.”

“We could have spent all day watching the jousting,” the third of them, a boy, said. He shared the looks of the other two, but had a thinner build than Ned. “Instead we had to sit atop the wall to watch a race we could barely see, because someone was hogging the Myrish Eye.”

“Ned!” Steve called, drawing the attention of the three Starks and interrupting the girl before she could finish rounding on her younger brother. “How are you?”

Upon seeing who had called him, Ned’s harried expression turned to one of smiling relief. “Lo--Steve,” he said. “It is good to see you. Are you here to watch the joust?”

Steve nodded. “One of our companions, Kedry, is competing, so we’re here to cheer him on.”

“Lady Naerys,” Ned said, inclining his head to her, and receiving a curtsey in turn. “You mentioned your other companions at the tavern the other night,” he said to Steve.

“This is Robin, and this is Toby,” Steve said, gesturing to them in turn. “Toby is Kedry’s ward.”

Robin gave a jerky wave.

“You!” the girl with Ned interrupted, pointing at Toby.

Ned sighed. “This is my sister, Lyanna, and my younger brother, Benjen,” he said.

“You’re the boy who came in second in the horse race,” Lyanna said, as if Ned hadn’t spoken at all.

“Yeah, wot of it?” Toby asked.

“I wanted to enter too, but someone said I was too young,” Lyanna said. “How old are you?”

“That someone was not me,” Ned said, but he went ignored.

“I dunno, twelve years or sommat,” Toby said.

“Ugh,” Lyanna said, crossing her arms. “I could have won, too. It was amazing how you rode down that hillside.”

Toby’s face screwed up, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be offended or complimented.

“We’re missing the jousts…” Benjen said.

“We have seats waiting for us,” Ned said, “but there are more than we need. Would you like to join us?”

“Sure,” Steve said. “You can tell me how your second dance with Ashara went while we watch the jousts.”

Ned groaned, and his siblings snickered at his plight, before he led them all towards the section of the stands that had been set aside for their use.

Before he followed, Steve took the time to reach over to Robin and close his jaw with a click, startling the kid away from where he had been staring at Lyanna. Steve raised an amused eyebrow at him, and Robin blushed heavily.

It was not the central stand that they came to, the fancy one with all the House sigils on it, but it was right next to it.

“Brandon is with Robert in the main seats, below His Grace,” Ned said, as they climbed the stairs at the rear of the stands. “We don’t need to be as formal here.”

“Works for me,” Steve said. The stairs led them to a seating area much like the one they had used the other day, but with nicer furnishings. There were enough seats to a row for them to all sit at the front edge of the box, and so they did, Steve and Ned in the middle and their companions to their respective sides.

Lyanna looked like she wanted to keep interrogating Toby, but sank into her chair with a sigh when she saw they’d either have to talk over everyone or take seats behind them where they couldn’t see as well.

“I wasn’t kidding about the dance,” Steve said. “How’d it go?”

Ned ignored his siblings with hard won practice as they smirked. “It was well. She was happy to dance again.”

“Told you,” Steve said. Out in the lanes, a knight was lifted off his horse and landed with a clatter. “When’s the next date?”

“Date?” Ned asked.

“You know, when are you going to step out with her next?”

“Step out?”

“Like a romantic evening,” Steve said.

Ned flushed. “I do not - I would not say we are courting.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said. He was starting to see why Nat had enjoyed teasing him so much.

“You mean to say that after a second enjoyable night of dancing, you did not ask to see her again?” Naerys asked, more interested in the conversation than the jousts.

“He didn’t,” Lyanna said, “because she asked him.”

“You said you wouldn’t reveal that to anyone if I took you to see the horse race,” Ned said, frowning at his sister.

“I said I wouldn’t tell Brandon,” Lyanna said, expression cherubic.

Ned grumbled to himself.

“So what are they doing?” Steve asked the girl.

“They’re going on a rom--” Lyanna began.

“We are going on a walk around the godswood this evening,” Ned interrupted. “With her lady in waiting as chaperone.”

“So you need a chaperone, do you?” Steve asked, grinning.

Ned grumbled some more.

“Well, she’s only bringing one lady in waiting along, so you must seem trustworthy,” Steve said.

“Ashara only has one lady in waiting,” Ned said.

“I thought she had two,” Steve said. “Leia and uh, Myria.”

“Lady Myria is joining us tonight, but I haven’t heard tell of a Lady Leia,” Ned said.

Steve thought back to his meeting with Ashara. Had she introduced them as her ladies in waiting, or just as companions? “I think she called them her companions, not ladies in waiting, so you’re probably right,” he said.

They were interrupted as Toby began cackling, pointing at a knight with armour more ornate than practical who had just landed face first on the ground. “Tell me what the dirt tastes like, shiny man,” he said.

“Do you know when Kedry is scheduled?” Robin asked.

“Soon,” Naerys said.

“Is Kedry the only one of your retinue competing, Lord America?” Benjen asked from the end of the row.

“Call me Steve,” he said absently. “And yeah. I could muscle my way through a bit, but I don’t know nearly enough about jousting to compete at the higher levels. Watching is good fun, anyway.”

“We have come to watch one of our own joust today,” Ned said.

“Your brother?” Naerys asked.

“No, he is not due to ride until tomorrow; it is a Flint we’re here to see today.”

“He was pretty impressive yesterday,” Steve said.

“His warpaint was something else too,” Robin said. “Someone said it meant things.”

“It’s an old custom,” Ned said. “I saw markings for wounds survived, and horses stolen without bloodshed, as well as a promise.”

“A promise?” Robin asked.

“He’s declared that he’s pursuing a great goal,” Lyanna said. “It could be an oath of vengeance, or a promise to a betrothed to come home.”

“Oh,” Robin said, and clammed up.

Lyanna signed dreamily, her mind obviously elsewhere, until Benjen began to imitate some kind of stringed instrument. Lyanna rounded on him, whacking him on the shoulder, and they fell to bickering.

“Here’s Kedry,” Toby said, suddenly, eyes on the far side of the field.

Kedry rode out from the competitor’s area, Redbloom as eager to joust as always. Steve’s brows raised as he saw the man next to him, his competitor for the bout and once more covered in blue First Man markings. Flint, the Northerner. The crowd seemed to remember the two of them from their efforts the previous day, as the rumble of it noticeably picked up, cheers and cries lifting the mood.

“Flint has added more runes,” Ned said.

“Is that unusual?” Steve asked.

“Only in that for him to have added them, something must have happened,” Ned said. “But his victories yesterday shouldn’t have warranted...oh.”

“‘Oh’?” Steve asked.

“I would have to take a closer look before saying anything,” Ned said, demurring.

Steve took him at his word, and they turned their focus back to the entrance of the two competitors.

Maybe it was the reaction of the crowd, or maybe it had been planned in advance based on their performance, but instead of leading them towards one of the four outside lanes, Kedry and Flint were guided to the centre lane, the first pair to use it that Steve had seen. Kedry was directed to the right, the west end, while Flint was sent left. What passed for a hush fell over the crowd as they stared each other down, even as two other lanes hosted their own jousts. Redbloom tossed his head, his woad-painted opposite calm and steady.

The herald stepped up to the divider, flag raised, and looked to each man to check their readiness. Kedry raised his lance in salute, and Flint clashed a gauntleted fist against his chest. The flag came down, the crowd roared, and the horses charged.

Kedry was precision and poise, framed by Redbloom’s surging fury, while Flint was all heart, already leaning into the upcoming blow. They collided with a terrific crash to the crowd’s approval, lances splintering as each man reeled back from the blow, but neither was unhorsed. After a moment to calm their horses, they returned to their ends of the lane to receive a new lance, waiting on the herald’s word.

The herald stepped up, flag raised, and looked to each rider. The flag came down, the crowd roared, and the horses charged.

Again, each man surged down the lane, and again, a thundering crash and the shattering of lances announced another worthy tilt. Both men stayed in their saddles, and again they returned to their own ends of the lane.

The herald stepped up, flag raised. The flag came down, and the horses charged.

This time, the breaking of lances was drowned out by the crowd, their cheers and cries filling the field at the third exchange. Kedry and Flint were feeling the impacts, shaking out a hand or massaging an arm, before taking up fresh lances once more. Toby was damn near leaning out of the box, practically chewing through his lip in his nerves, while the others were more restrained.

The herald stepped up, the flag came down, and the horses charged.

Both men were rocked back in their saddles, broken lances discarded as they struggled to stay ahorse. Flint swayed drunkenly as he righted himself, looking around as if he wasn’t quite sure which way was which. Kedry was slumped forward over Redbloom’s neck, arm held to his side, but he took a breath and slowly straightened.

“C’mon, you can do it,” Toby said to himself, eyes fixed on Kedry.

The other two jousts that were running had finished, but Steve doubted anyone could say who had won, and the officials made no move to bring out the next competitors. No one seemed to care, as all eyes were fixed on the joust that had already broken all expectations.

“This is something then?” Steve asked, as the riders slowly made their way back to their starting ends.

“Aye,” Ned said. “Not often you see a pair of jousters this evenly matched.”

“Prince Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne,” Lyanna said. “They broke twelve lances against each other at Storm’s End.”

“The crowd seems to like it,” Steve said, even as a fresh swell of noise rolled over them, Kedry and Flint setting themselves for another tilt.

“They both made a good impression yesterday,” Naerys said.

Robin leaned forward to match Toby. “Here they go again.”

The herald stepped up, the flag came down, and the horses charged.

The horses were slower off the mark this time, less an explosion of motion and more an inevitable surge. Kedry’s lance was still aimed unerringly at Flint’s shield, and the Northerner still put his all into his own blow, but to Steve’s eye they were both beginning to falter.

The crowd roared as the fifth impact sent both men reeling, laying them out flat over their saddles; they were only kept in them by the strength of their legs. Their recovery took longer this time, both of them needing several long moments to collect themselves before even beginning to return to their starting positions. They gained a brief reprieve as an official directed a number of servants to hurriedly rake the lane clear of the accumulated splinters and shattered pieces of wood, but then they were on again.

The herald stepped up, the flag came down, and the horses charged.

Flint let out a savage bellow of a war cry as they collided, but for all Kedry reacted he could have been deaf to it, so focused was he. For a moment, Steve thought that was it, as Kedry was lifted from the saddle as Flint’s lance struck true, but Kedry’s own blow smote his foe in the exact spot as the previous five times, and this time Flint was unable to weather it, his shield arm giving out under the repeated hits as he fell halfway from his horse. The crowd bellowed their approval, even some of the nobility getting in on the action.

Redbloom jumped, but only with his rear legs, almost seeming to catch Kedry so he could tumble back into the saddle, while Flint struggled to hold onto his own mount, laboriously pulling himself back into his seat. Had he been even slightly more rattled from the hit, he likely would have fallen.

“They’re taking a beating,” Steve said.

“I don’t know how much longer this can go on,” Naerys said, as they watched both men reset for another tilt. This time, however, it seemed more like the horses were the ones leading.

The herald stepped up, only to pause as he took in the two men, swaying in their saddles and struggling to hold the seventh set of lances they had been given. Still, both men signalled their readiness, and the flag came down. The horses charged.

Naerys’ words were prophetic. Kedry’s control was gone, his lance struggling to remain on target, while Flint seemed barely able to stay upright, let alone lean into his charge with the same ferocity as before.

A lance slipped from nerveless fingers, and the crowd hissed and groaned, as Flint rode on, weaponless. He seemed a lamb to the slaughter - but then Kedry rode right past him, strength failing him and unable to bring his lance up to land a blow, before he too dropped his lance. Toby let out a groan.

“They’re both spent,” Steve said.

“I would be too if I’d taken half of those hits,” Robin said.

The crowd quietened as the two jousters came to a halt at the opposite ends of the lane, both seeming surprised to still be ahorse. With great effort, they nudged their mounts around and managed a steady walk to the middle, where they met and paused. For a moment, they talked, helms hiding their lips from Steve and muffling whatever it was they were saying. They managed to clasp hands, before their strength failed them once more.

The herald approached, and conferred with them briefly. He seemed surprised, but then hurried over to a stand that sat by the edge of the main lane, currently empty, and retrieved a pair of flags from behind it. He unravelled one, then the other, before lifting both white flags high and displaying them first to the King, and then the other nobles, before finally the smallfolk.

“A draw,” Ned said, surprise in his voice. “By way of double forfeit.”

A ripple spread through the crowd as they reacted, not with disappointment, but with applause, hailing the two men as they were carried from the field by their mounts, only barely directing them.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Steve said. “Maybe a double knockout, the way they were going.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Ned said.

Toby bolted from his seat, already disappearing down the stairs and undoubtedly off to see Kedry.

“I hope Kedry is ok,” Naerys said, frowning. “Those were some awfully bad hits he took.”

“He gave out some good ones too,” Robin said. Benjen made a noise of agreement.

“That’ll teach people to treat Northerners like pushovers for not going in for tourneys,” Lyanna said.

As the others began to discuss the joust, Steve looked over to the competitor’s yard, where he could just see Kedry disappearing.

“I’m going to go and check on Kedry,” Steve said, rising from his chair. “You guys will be right here for a bit?”

“Of course,” Naerys said. “Toby seemed worried.”

Steve clapped Robin on the shoulder as he left, taking the stairs easily and circling around the jousting fields at a steady pace. He had a decent idea of where the entrance to the competitor’s area was, so he just needed to find out which tent Kedry was using. Couldn’t be too hard.

The entrance was right where he thought it was, and a few questions of the servants working in the area gave him the location of Kedry’s ‘dressing room’, a standalone tent that afforded Kedry some privacy to prepare for his jousts within. Redbloom was outside, being seen to by someone he didn’t recognise, so he figured that Toby was inside with Kedry.

Ducking through the entrance, Steve found himself in the main area of the tent, but Kedry and Toby were nowhere to be seen. The tent had one corner sectioned off by hanging cloth, similar to his own tent back in the castle, to form a smaller room within it. He heard a groan of pain, one more lamenting the aches and pains than one of any real injury, and he smirked. He approached the room and pulled the cloth ‘door’ back, stepping through.

“Kedry, how’re you doing….” he trailed off.

Kedry was present, he didn’t have the wrong room or anything. He was seated on a bench, armour removed and tankard of water in hand. It was just that his shirt was also removed, revealing the mostly undone bandages that wrapped his - her, Steve guessed distantly - breasts to her body.

Steve gaped at Kedry. Kedry gaped at Steve. Steve spun on his heel to give Kedry some privacy.

“I’ll wait out in the main area,” Steve told the curtain. “I am so sorry.” And he marched out.

X

There were two chairs and a small table in the main room of the tent, and Steve sat himself down in one. He drummed his fingers on one knee, standing up again a few moments later. He began to pace, but the tent was too small, and he sat down again. He drummed his fingers on his knee again. Lord, this was why he always knocked.

At length, Kedry emerged from the dressing room, wearing an expression more appropriate for someone approaching the gallows. He - she, rather - was once more wearing the sober tunic and trousers, no hint to their gender on display. There was a mulish set to her mouth.

Steve got to his feet by habit, and Kedry stopped where he--she was. For a long moment, neither said anything.

For a moment, Steve considered reassuring her, but he held his tongue. He would wait for Kedry to explain herself.

The moment began to stretch, and then Kedry bowed low. “I am sorry for lying to you.”

“I don’t think you ever actually said you were a man,” Steve said.

Kedry raised her head to look him in the eyes. “It was a lie. I will not excuse myself. I only ask that you give us time to gather our property before leaving. We will leave everything your coin bought.”

“I’d hope that we’ve known each other long enough for you to know that this won’t be a problem, at least as far as I’m concerned,” Steve said.

“We met not three weeks ago,” Kedry said.

“Toby made it feel longer,” Steve said, jokingly.

Kedry’s face remained stone. “I am a woman. I lied my way into your service. I bear arms and armour as a man. You cannot just ignore these facts.”

“I mean, I understand why you didn’t want to share a tent now?” Steve said.

A trace of frustration crossed her face, and Kedry unbent from her low bow. “I lied to you. To your face. I accepted your patronage. If this came to light, they could strip you of your winnings and banish you from the tournament.”

“I ever tell you about how I joined the army?” Steve asked.

“I’m sorry?”

Steve took a seat, and gestured for Kedry to do the same. After a moment, she sat, and he began to talk.

“Back where I’m from, they only wanted big guys to join the army. Strong guys, with good lungs and steady arms. Sounds reasonable, right?” he asked.

“I suppose,” Kedry said, frowning slightly.

“Yeah, I didn’t agree,” Steve said. “I was barely five feet tall, and couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds.” He ignored Kedry’s dubious look. “I tried to enlist five different times, and they knocked me back each time. I had bad lungs, bad bones, bad blood, a bad heart, hell, I was even part deaf.”

“You seem to be in fine health now,” Kedry said, unsure of where the tale was going.

“Yeah, I got better,” Steve said. “But the thing is, it was illegal to lie about your enlistment. Highly illegal; I’m talking prison time and a serious fine.”

“If you were so ill, why did you lie?” Kedry asked. Her back was still stiff as a rod, but she wasn’t holding so tightly to her poker face.

“Because I thought enlisting was the right thing to do. And maybe I wanted to prove a point,” Steve said. “What I’m saying is that I understand why you did what you did, and I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“You’re from strange lands,” Kedry said. “You might have lied about your health, but not about your gender.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, the way women are treated here is a crock of shit,” Steve said. He winced. “Pardon my language.”

Kedry exhaled sharply through her nose, an action that would have been a full on snort from someone else. “You truly don’t care that I’ve lied about who I am.”

“I don’t think you lied about that at all,” Steve said. “You’re a good warrior, decent with a sword but better with a glaive, and apparently a machine with a lance. You’ve got a ward named Toby who’s good with horses, and you care for him very much. You wanted to win the joust so you could support yourselves, but I think you’ll be able to do that even with the tilts you won, and it’s not like I’m going to stop paying you.”

“So, what?” Kedry asked. “We just go on pretending nothing of note has changed?”

“Well, now you don’t have to hide anything from the rest of us,” Steve said.

“You would have me tell the others?” Kedry asked.

“You don’t want to?” Steve said.

“I’m not sure,” Kedry said. Her gaze went to her knees. “I’ve been Kedry for close to a year now.”

“I don’t think they’d respect you any less. Robin is a good kid, and Naerys would understand better than anyone,” Steve said. “Ultimately, it’s your choice. You don’t have to make your decision now either. Wait until after the tournament before deciding one way or another.”

“I’ve always feared this,” Kedry said. “My secret not just revealed, but to someone who trusted me that I lied to.”

“Kedry-”

“But now,” Kedry continued, blowing through Steve’s interruption, “I think I’m just relieved.”

“I’m...glad for you?” Steve said. “I’d say it was nothing, but I don’t want to belittle your fear and I know what most nobles here are like.”

“I’ve been on edge since we arrived, to speak the truth,” Kedry said. “Twice I thought I had been caught out, only for it to be a misunderstanding.”

“Oh?”

“When you called me to the Kingspyre Tower, to speak with the maester after they attempted to disqualify you, I thought my secret was out,” Kedry said. “I was ready to take responsibility and beg your forgiveness.”

“We need to get you into some card games, because I did not twig to that at all,” Steve admitted.

“Control of self was a lesson taught from a young age,” Kedry said.

“You’re a noble, aren’t you,” Steve guessed. He hadn’t been sure, but he had thought Kedry too well trained and educated to be an armsman’s child. “Not only a woman warrior, but a noblewoman.”

Something clattered to the floor, and Steve turned to see Toby at the tent entrance, flap falling closed behind him. He hadn’t even heard the kid come in, absorbed in the conversation as he was.

“What?” Toby said. “That’s fool talk. Kedry ain’t no woman.”

Steve glanced to Kedry, but saw only exasperation, not the fear of another learning her secret before she was ready. He didn’t think Toby had been unaware, anyway.

“Toby, I know,” Steve said. “You don’t have to --”

“I can talk to horses,” Toby announced. “Evil, dark magic it is. Got it from sacrificin’ babies at the Heart Tree and all.”

“Toby. I have literally fought side by side with a man who could fly and throw lightning like a javelin. Kedry’s gender, and your ability to talk to horses, don’t bother me,” Steve said. “Also, all your friends are horses. We knew.”

Toby was left to gape as Steve turned back to face Kedry.

“I’m right though, aren’t I?” Steve asked. “You’re a noble?”

Kedry stared at him for a long moment. “I think I’ll tell Naerys and Robin.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” Steve said.

“I’m sure,” Kedry said, nodding. She got to her feet. “Close your mouth Toby. You’ll catch flies.”

“Oh what in the arse fu--”

“Language,” Steve said sharply, cutting him off. As Kedry gathered her armour, he approached Toby, and reached out to ruffle his hair. “Your heart was in the right place, but my retinue has a hard rule of no baby sacrifice, ok?”

Toby’s face screwed up in a mix of angry confusion. “Have you been drinkin’ poppy?”

“The only milk I drink comes from animals. Drugs are bad, kiddo,” Steve said. “Ready to go Kedry?” he asked her.

She looked around, double checking she had all her equipment, before nodding. “I am. Here,” she said, catching sight of Toby’s face and dumping most of it on him. It was more than he could comfortably carry.

Toby grumbled, barely able to see over the pile in his arms, but hoisted his burden and kept his complaints to mutterings.

“I’ll get the others, and see you back at the tent,” Steve said, already turning away.

“As you say,” Kedry said. “Oh, and Steve?” she asked, redrawing his attention. She was smiling. “It’s Keladry. Keladry Delnaimn.”

“Keladry then,” Steve said. He gave her a two fingered salute, and went on his way.

X x X

The tent was quiet as they gathered in what passed for its lounge room. Naerys and Robin had picked up the minor tension in the air and were sitting quietly, having already been slightly confused by Steve’s request to leave the joust early. Toby was scratching Dodger behind the ears, sitting with him on the floor, while Steve leaned back in a chair, waiting as Keladry stood at the head of the room and gathered her thoughts.

Naerys shot a glance between Steve and Keladry, purple eyes inquisitive, but Steve shook his head and waited.

The tent village was quiet, almost everyone watching the jousting or training for another event, so there was little fear of an eavesdropper. Dodger would probably pick up on one, in any case.

At length, Keladry let out a breath and began to speak. “My name is not Kedry. I am Keladry Delnaimn, late of the Vale. I am a woman and a warrior, and I joined you under false pretenses. I am sorry I lied to you. That is all.”

Steve blinked. He’d kind of expected something different to that, but he supposed it got the point across. He looked to the others.

Toby was scowling, but from the thumping of Dodger’s tail, was taking it out on scratching the dog’s ears. Naerys was mostly blank, but the kind that masked deep thought. Robin was frowning, but he looked unsure. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Keladry took the last remaining seat, tense frame belying her smooth expression.

“Robin, you got something to ask?” Steve said. His question drew everyone’s attention, and from there it flowed to Robin.

Robin rubbed his neck, not quite shrinking under their gazes. “Women aren’t supposed to be knights,” he said, but it was without confidence.

“According to who?” Steve asked, before Toby could do more than glare at Robin.

“Everyone?” Robin said.

“Should I not be taught to defend myself then?” Naerys asked.

“That’s different,” Robin said. “Every woman should know that.”

“How is it different?” Steve asked. He got the feeling that Robin was saying what he thought he was supposed to say more than what he thought himself.

“Knighthood is for noblemen,” Robin said. “Women riding in jousts isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” He shook his head. “If you stick out, the nobles will take it out on you, and not much sticks out more than a woman warrior.”

“She has been concealing her identity,” Steve pointed out. “And I imagine she’ll continue to do so.”

Keladry nodded. “Women who try to pass as men in Westeros have not found happy endings, historically.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Robin said. “I don’t -- everyone says it isn’t proper for women to take up arms, but I don’t care about that. Naerys is proving that wrong already. But you’re not just taking up arms, you’re doing it in the biggest tournament in decades. You’ll be caught, and it won’t just be you who they turn on.”

“Why are you so sure?” Naerys asked.

“You know what nobles are like,” Robin said. He set his jaw, and said nothing further.

“He’s right,” Keladry said. “My presence here is a danger to you.”

“Ked--Keladry, no,” Naerys said. “Do you think Steve would stand by? The entire castle knows what happens to nobles who overstep.”

“Petty nobles are more easily dissuaded than others,” Keladry said. “I will take Redbloom and camp a day’s ride from the castle. After the tournament is over, if you’ll still have my service, I can rejoin you.”

“No,” Steve said. “No one needs to go anywhere. You’re a spectator now anyway. No one else is going to walk in on you in the changing room.”

For a moment, that seemed to settle the mood of the room. Toby stopped glaring daggers at Robin, Robin seemed resigned, and Keladry appeared to accept his words. Naerys though, Naerys was staring at Steve with a complicated expression that finally settled on ‘cat that got the cream’.

“I’m sorry,” Naerys said, lips turning upwards. “Who walked in on whom where?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant,” Steve said quickly. “What’s important is that we’re all on the same page here. Keladry has just as much a right to fight as anyone else, and we’ll all do what we need to to help her keep her secret until such a time as she no longer needs to. Right? Right.”

“I think we could stand to be told more,” Naerys said. “Just so we can avoid the same problem in the future.”

For a brief moment, Steve considered throwing Toby under the bus, before reminding himself that it wasn’t his secret to share.

“I’m sure it won’t come up,” Steve said. “Between the four of us, we can make sure no one barges in anywhere without knocking.”

Keladry’s cheeks coloured. “I can join your lessons,” she offered Naerys. “There are things about fighting as a woman that do not occur to men that I could share with you.”

Steve found himself sharing a commiserating look with Dodger, although the dog might have just been begging for food.

“You never answered my question from earlier, Keladry,” Steve said. “If you’re comfortable with sharing, that is.”

Keladry looked over to him, glad for the distraction. “I, yes. I was born to a noble family. Toby and I have been making our own way for almost a year now.”

“How did you meet?” Steve asked. He thought he remembered her saying something about saving Toby from the Vale mountain clans.

Keladry was quiet for a moment. “I killed his father and five other men.”

“He had it comin’,” Toby said.

There was a quiet intake of breath, Steve wasn’t sure who from. “That...sounds like a story.”

“It would be best told with a drink in hand, but I don’t think it wise to do so in the public tavern,” Keladry said.

“You don’t have to tell it,” Steve said.

“I want to,” Keladry said. “Delnaimn is a small House in the North of the Vale. My grandmother was an Arryn of Gulltown, and that’s likely the most notable thing about us. The land is good, but raids by the clans prevent us from doing more than holding it. My father was a second son, and I was born during a trade mission to Yi Ti. I didn’t see Westeros until I was five years old.” She stopped to take a breath.

Steve glanced at the others. They were rapt in the story, even Toby who likely knew it already.

“The mountain clans killed my uncle, and my father was the heir. He and my mother saw me educated and taught to fight, until eventually it was time for me to marry. I...was not pleased by this,” Keladry said.

“Did you leave to escape the marriage?” Naerys asked.

“My family had given me everything I ever wanted. How could I turn away when my family needed me?”

“You’re not married now,” Robin said, leaning in.

“No,” Keladry said. “I am not. On my way to meet my betrothed, we were attacked by a clan warband. I took up a sword, and we were the only survivors. My mentor was one of the fallen.”

“So you took your chance, and eventually you met us,” Naerys said.

“Yes,” Keladry said. “I, there is more to the story, but…”

“I understand,” Steve said, and there were murmurs of agreement from Naerys and Robin. “You don’t need to tell us everything now. There will be time on the road, wherever we go from here.”

“Yes,” Keladry said. “Thank you, my lord. I will tell it, because it needs to be told, but later.”

“We’ll keep your secrets,” Naerys said surveying the tent with the purple gaze of a general. “All of us, whatever secrets we might have, we keep for each other.”

Involuntarily, Keladry glanced obviously at Toby. Just as obviously, Toby shook his head, eyes widening.

Naerys caught it all. “What, does Toby commune with the Old Gods and control horses?” she asked, laughing. The pair blanched, and her laughter stopped. “What.”

“You mean like a warg?” Robin asked, all boyish enthusiasm.

Toby and Keladry shared a look, one accusing, the other apologetic.

“So Kedry,” Steve said. “How are you feeling after the joust?”

“Thank you for asking,” Keladry said. “My side is quite sore, and my shoulder…”

As they carried on a loud conversation, Robin began to question Toby about his supposed ability to warg, and Naerys buried her face in her hands.

The light of the afternoon sun beat down against the tent walls, and Steve was just glad the day was almost over.

X

Hunter’s Hall was especially rowdy that night, full of eliminated jousters and spectators eager to retell the highlights of the day. Oil lamps and a crackling fire cast a merry light around the smoke blackened interior, and the scent of ale and roast pork was in the air. Steve and his friends had found a table nestled in against the side wall, out of the way of most of the revelry, but they were still approached by the odd man who recognised Keladry from her joust against Flint, seeking a story. She was modest in her retelling, and quick to praise Ulrich’s skill, something that the listeners seemed to expect from someone ‘of the Vale’. They seemed appreciative if the tankards they produced for ‘him’ in thanks were any indication.

Toby and Robin had attacked their meals with the gusto of young boys, and were now mopping up the last of the gravy on their plates, while Naerys had obtained a goblet of wine that she was slowly sipping. Steve was content to people-watch, faintly wishing he’d brought his sketchbook with him.

One table over, a man slapped his friend on the back with great zeal, sending droplets of ale everywhere. Maybe it was for the best that he hadn’t.

Part of the cause for the revelry was the bard, ensconced in the corner by the bar. The man had been doing a roaring trade most of the evening, taking in piles of copper and the occasional silver to applause and cheers.

“Is he something then?” Steve asked Naerys, nodding towards the bard. “Or is this normal for a bard.”

Naerys turned to follow his look. “The tourney of singers concluded today,” she said. “If he’s here he likely didn’t win, but he must have been popular.”

“He’s decent enough,” Steve said with a shrug. “I don’t know what passes for decent music here.”

“Is that professional disdain I hear?” Naerys asked. “I’m sure you could show him how to carry a tune.”

Steve gave her a look. “You know I’m not a great singer.”

“But you’ve so many songs to share,” Naerys said with false confusion, even as she smirked at him.

Keladry’s latest questioner had departed, and she joined the conversation. “Naerys is right,” she said. “Your song Amazing Grace was most stirring.” Her cheeks were red with drink, but she still held herself steady.

“Fat Bottomed Girls certainly stirred the crowd here the other night,” Naerys said, showing no mercy. “The songs from your homeland are so interesting.”

“I heard some men singing it the other day,” Robin said, leaning back in his seat. “So it’s getting around too.”

“It was quite the rowdy tune,” Keladry said. “Is that commonplace?”

Steve took on a thousand yard stare, remembering the week where Natasha and Tony had decided the best way to inure him to certain types of modern music was through exposure. “Some are worse than others,” he said. Why some men felt the need to use such language to talk about -- well, it wasn’t for him.

“Westeros hears new songs so rarely,” Keladry said, “and what songs are popular can be...bleh.” She downed the rest of her tankard.

“You don’t care for the Bear and the Maiden Fair?” Naerys asked.

“What’s wrong with the Bear and the Maiden Fair?” Robin asked, indignant.

“Nothing, the first fifteen times I heard it,” Keladry said. “Every time after that, though…”

“I can see how it might grate on you,” Steve said. “Unfortunately, a war against the sad state of music in Westeros isn’t one I think I can win.”

“Why not?” Toby asked. Before Steve could answer, he continued. “Just write down them songs you know and let some bard sing ‘em.”

“Might save you from Naerys when she wants a song,” Robin said with a smile.

A cheer from the crowd cut off further conversation as the bard wound down his song, bowing in his seat as the last notes of his lute faded. “Thank you, thank you!” the man cried, a small shower of copper being thrown in the general direction of a bucket at his knee. He wet his lips in a mug of some drink, as a boy at his side collected what coins hadn’t been on target and dropped them with the others. The bard stroked a finely trimmed moustache as he took up his instrument once more. “Have we any requests for the next tune?”

“Give us a sad, brave song!” came a cry from across the tavern, slightly slurred. “You know the one!”

“A sad song, aye, I think I know the one,” the bard said. He plucked at a few strings, and began to fall into a tune.

Before he could do more than start it, however, Keladry rose to her feet and hurled her empty mug across the tavern at the man who had requested it. “The only sadness in that song is that it still limps on!” she called out.

The tankard was a cheap wooden thing, and it clattered across the back of the man’s skull without doing any harm. Still, he rose to his feet with a thunderous scowl, looking for where it came from, and saw Keladry. He also saw Steve, who gave him an apologetic smile, and he sat back down.

“You don’t care for Brave Danny Flint?” the bard asked, calling out to Keladry.

The tavern was watching with half an eye now, even those who didn’t much care for the music, engaged with the spectacle.

“It’s a shite song, not a sad song,” Keladry called back.

Steve raised an eyebrow. Keladry was well and truly rosy cheeked, and he realised that her situation probably hadn’t allowed for all that much social drinking, if any.

“And what makes it so, good ser?” the bard asked. He seemed a touch annoyed at the interruption, but still bore a performer’s pleasant face.

Keladry found herself tongue tied, unwilling to explain her disdain for the song, or perhaps unable to give her true reasons.

“Maybe we’re sick and tired of hearing a song about a woman who was raped to death thousands of years ago,” Naerys called back. Jeers came from the crowd, a mix of agreement and disagreement.

“Then perhaps you know one better?” the bard challenged. “A song to stand against Poor, Brave Danny Flint?”

Naerys looked to Steve, and he almost groaned, expecting her to volunteer him, but instead, she stood. “I do, if you’re skilled enough to keep up.”

The bard strummed his lute in answer, and the crowd ate it up.

Hoisting the skirts of her dress, Naerys stepped atop their table, and gazed out over the tavern, silent and expectant. A hush fell, and then she began to sing.

“High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…”

The lute joined her, soft notes plucked gently as Naerys almost seemed to weave a spell with her words.

“The ones she had lost and the ones she had found, and the ones who had loved her the most…”

Men who had boasted and roared with their friends through previous songs were silent as the grave as Naerys sang, telling the tale of Jenny and the ghosts she carried with her. The lute swelled and rose with her voice.

A cold hand seemed to grasp Steve’s heart as he listened, and his mind wandered to a dance he never had. He thought of a home twice lost, of all the people therein, and in that moment, he allowed himself to grieve. His hand brushed against his pocket, and the compass within that had long since stopped working.

Naerys’ song came to its end, the final note seeming to linger in the air. No one spoke, none wishing to break the spell that had fallen over the tavern. Even the servers and cooks had stopped in their tasks, peering out of the kitchen or from behind the bar.

The moment broke as Naerys gave a curtsey, face alight with a near indecipherable kind of satisfaction. There was no applause, but every patron with a mug or tankard in hand raised it to her, and drank.

Many in the tavern had heard the song of Jenny before, but they would always say there was something different about it that night, some deeper magic to it that made it ring true. Whatever the truth of the matter, it would become one more part of the legend of the Tourney at Harrenhal that those present would speak of in the years to come.