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Chapter 31

Chapter 31: The Falcon, The Stag, and The Horseman
...
5 days before the tourney

Jon Arryn POV

In the distance, the city of Lannisport came into view, its white stone walls glowing softly in the afternoon light. Beyond it, Casterly Rock towered above the sea, its golden cliffs rising majestically like a lion guarding its domain.

Closer to the city, the tourney grounds were already bustling with life. A colorful patchwork of tents stretched across the fields, banners of noble houses fluttering in the breeze, filling the air with excitement.

After the long journey, the sight was a welcome relief. My men, though weary from the road, seemed to regain their energy at the prospect of rest, good food, and the spectacle of the tourney. We had finally arrived.

"Finally, we're here! Ned, let's race! First to the tourney grounds isn't a loser!" Robert Baratheon's voice rang out, his usual boisterousness already filling the air as he spurred his horse ahead without waiting for a reply.

I sighed, amused but exasperated. Robert, my ward, was a handful—a lad full of mischief and boundless energy. I had treated him like a son, trying to guide him, but the boy was as wild as the storm in his family's sigil.

Beside me rode Eddard Stark, or Ned. Unlike Robert, Ned was quieter, more thoughtful, but I could see the spark of eagerness in his eyes as he watched his friend gallop ahead.

He turned to me, silently seeking permission. I nodded, knowing the boy well enough by now. They were both only eleven, full of youth and vigor, and deserved a moment of fun after such a long journey.

Ned wasted no time. With a determined look, he urged his horse forward, chasing after Robert with quiet intensity. Though he wouldn't shout or laugh like Robert, I knew Ned's competitive spirit ran just as deep—perhaps even deeper.

As I watched the two of them race toward the tourney grounds, so different yet bonded like brothers, I couldn't help but smile.

"Lord Arryn, is it wise to let them run off like that?" a voice asked, laced with concern. I turned to my left and found Yohn Royce, the Lord of Runestone, towering beside me.

Yohn was an imposing man, standing at 6'8, his presence as solid as the armor he wore. He was one of the most honorable and loyal lords under my banner, a true embodiment of the values we held dear in the Vale.

He would represent House Arryn in the upcoming tourney, and he wasn't alone. Lords Corbray, Redfort, Hunter, and other knights from the Vale would also be participating, each eager to bring honor to their houses.

"They'll be fine," I replied with a smile. "Let them have their fun. They've earned a bit of reprieve after the long journey."

Yohn grunted, not fully convinced but willing to trust my judgment. "Alright, but if they stir up trouble, I'll see to it they receive a little punishment," he said with a hearty laugh, his deep voice booming.

"Haha, of course, my friend," I chuckled, amused by his protectiveness.

With that, we continued riding at a leisurely pace toward the tourney camp. The excitement in the air was palpable, but for now, it was a moment of peace before the storm of competition.
...
Steffon Baratheon POV

As we neared the towering gates of Casterly Rock, a familiar mix of excitement and impatience stirred within me. The fortress, carved from the golden cliffs, loomed as imposing as the man who ruled it—Tywin Lannister, my old friend.

I was eager to see him again, to share a drink and talk, as we had done many times over the years. We had set up camp near the tourney grounds days earlier, leaving some of my men to keep watch.