The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

In The Name Of The Warrior

The sounds of the tourney were tremendous. The roar of the crowd, the splintering of lances and the thunder of hooves and metal. Morganna was more than glad she was stood down near the gate, not in the stands with the lords and ladies. With her uncle absent that day, and Septa Mordane preoccupied with getting Arya to sit still and behave, Morganna had been able to slip away with some vague excuse about the Princess wanting to see her. She hadn't, of course - the Queen would hardly let her sit with the royal family - and had instead made her way to her brother. Ren wasn't competing until the melee the next day, however his friend Loreon Storm was due to ride in the next few rounds, as was Ser Jaime Lannister, whom her brother was here to assist.

They had a good view from here, even though it was a short way back from the tilts. Loreon was in full armour astride his horse. Ren stood on the ground beside him, as Morganna stroked the nose of the beautiful destrier, a powerful beast, worthy even of her mother. She understood it had been a gift from the King for Loreon's sixteenth nameday. The Queen can't have been happy about that.

Today was Morganna's twelfth birthday, and she was enjoying pretending the tourney was all in her honour. That morning she had received several gifts from her family; Sansa had made her an elegant green dress - Arya was credited with sewing on the fastenings at the back, with Septa Mordane's help - and Lord Stark had gifted her a new cloak, far lighter than her heavy northern furs and perfect for the southron climate. He had also carried a gift from her mother down from the North, a silver pendant that Morganna fell in love with immediately and was wearing now, as well as a present from Aileen (and supposedly Edrick, though he would not have had a hand in chosing it) of an ornate hand-mirror made of bone.

She wished the rest of her family could be here now, of course, but Morganna wasn't exactly alone. She could pick out Sansa's red hair in the crowd from here, Jeyne Poole beside her, and then Arya and Septa Mordane; both of Morganna's cousins were excited for different reasons. Sansa loved the pageantry, the displays of gallantry and courage, whereas Arya was here for the blood and danger of the contest. Morganna was, as usual, somewhere in between.

Of all the Winterfell men, only Jory remained in the competition - Alyn and Harwin had both been unseated in their first matches - and Morganna found herself paying attention to the more likely contenders for the prize, helped by Ren and Loreon's careful assessments of all the other competitors. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain-That-Rides, was an obvious choice, though his brother Sandor, the Hound - still a big man but nowhere near the size of Gregor - seemed to have more skill, rather than brute strength alone, decimating his opponents with brutal efficiency. The young Loras Tyrell, as girlish as he looked with his brown curls and flowery armour, was also a clear talent. Morganna had laughed to see him present a blushing Sansa with a red rose; she had heard the crude rumours about the Knight of Flowers from Ren and his friends, but her cousin clearly hadn't. Other strong contenders were, of course, Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy, both in the white cloaks and armour of the Kingsguard.

But Loreon had yet to joust himself. Morganna had not known the young knight before the court came to Winterfell, but her brother considered him a close friend. Ren didn't trust easily. At a first glance, Loreon looked like a young Robert Baratheon, however he seemed more careful and calculating than the King, and tried to treat people with respect. King Robert had been born the elder son of a great lord and had had opportunities handed to him on a plate his whole life, but Loreon had to be taken seriously. There was something in him that the King lacked; a certain glint in Loreon's eyes whenever he saw his father drunk in public, or making a fool of himself, or shirking responsibilities. It was even more pronounced when he was around Joffrey. It was easy to forget what family the young man's mother came from, unless you were sharp enough to catch the ambition in his stare. Him and Ren were well-matched.