[b] Food Tent [/b] 

Visenya, who was busy drinking and singing with the other patrons did not hear most of William's statement. In fact she only caught the very last part of his offer. As she had been chugging a tankard of ale, her reaction was quite understandable in that Visenya made a choking sound and spit out all of her drink onto the bar. Somewhat inebriated herself coupled with surprise, Visenya's normally razor quick wit and sharp mind were now slow to answer and all Visenya could do was look wide-eyed at William and stammer, "I...I...my lord, William...I" Visenya knew William quite well, they had known each other for years and practically grew up together, as William was Sansa's ward. Despite his cynical personality and cutting tongue Visenya had to admit she felt a certain fondness for the young Lord Bolton. But did she want to marry him? Visenya had faced bandits, pirates, slavers, and all manner of rogues and outlaws. None of them had given them as much pause as William's drunken offer of marriage. 

She was immeasurably relieved when the fight broke out. It started when one of the Ironborn shoved past a Wildling. The two began pushing each other in the chest, shouting, and then fists were flying. The two drunken brawlers were not particularly careful about where they struck, and several bystanders were hit accidentally. With most of the tent drunk and rowdy already, tempers flared and rivalries were revived. Instantly half of the tent began kicking and punching at each other while the other half tried to escape and avoid it. The tent became a crowded mass of flailing limbs and shouts as alcohol, spittle, blood, and food went flying in all directions. It was a remarkable excuse not to respond to marriage offers. Visenya pushed William out of the way when one northman tried to smash the Bolton with a chair. She kicked the man in the knee, driving him to the ground before smashing her tankard over his head. One of his friends threw a punch at her but Visenya grabbed his fist, twisted his arm behind his back and kicked him into a group of brawlers, sending them all into a tumble. 

Visenya grabbed William by the arm and pulled him close behind her, "Stay close." William and Visenya had to fight their way through the tent, and Visenya tried to wade through the crowd to find Harwin and Lorimer, who she hoped were handling themselves alright. 

[b] The Medical Tent [/b]

As the two knights were recuperating in the tent, Jeor Mormont and his squire escorted Lyvia Clegane into the tent and laid her down on the bed. Several moments later all the knights and men she had vanquished in battle were also led into the tent. The medical tent was already full of those injured in brawls, tilts, duels, and accidents and the new influx of wounded did not help matters in the least. Lyvia was placed on a cot far away from the other new patients and near her comrades. Her attackers, those who were conscious, delivered glares, curses, and scowls in her direction as they were laid to bed. The septas, silent sisters, nurses, alchemists, and maesters attending the wounded were scrambling to accommodate all of the casualties. They had taken note of Cerenna's healing skill and left Lyvia in her care to attend the other patients. Jeor Mormont bowed to Lyvia and took his leave, "Finely fought my lady. I hope to see you at the wedding feast. We shall drink to your health. And your fists." 

As the Band of Seven were patched up, a woman entered the tent, followed by several guards bearing the Velaryon seahorse on their armor. She was tall, slender, and graceful with violet eyes and silver hair. Her dress was aquamarine, shimmering in the sunlight, and tightly wrapping around a shapely figure. Her presence seemed to brighten the mood of the tent, as many who were groaning in pain suddenly quieted and others kneeled before the woman, smiles crossing their face. The woman saw the Band of Seven, approached, and inclined her head to them. She extended her hand for a kiss to those who could walk, and for the heavily wounded, she laid a soft dainty hand upon them and offered smiles of sympathy. 

The woman said, "Valiant knights, noble ladies. I am Princess Daenyra and I came to offer my most sincere thanks for aiding my father in battle and coming to his protection."  She extended her hand for a kiss to those who could walk, and for the heavily wounded, she laid a soft dainty hand upon them and offered smiles of sympathy.  

Daenyra continued speaking, "The king is a mighty warrior, but it is most heartening to know the king has true friends in your company. I heard that the king has invited you to the wedding feast as guests of honor. This pleases me greatly and it would please me more if you were to be my guests at the festivities. My place would be at the high table with my brother and his bride, but a place of renown has been reserved for those of my husband's house. Please relay to your leader that you are all free to be seated with the men and women of Driftmark and would be in honorable company. I have much to attend to, but I would be indebted if you were to convey my offer. I wish you all a speedy recovery and hope to see you at the feast." Daenyra smiled radiantly at the Band of Seven and left the tent followed by her guards. 

Somehow the world seemed a bit dimmer as Daenyra left. When Cerenna went back to work, she would find a surprise. Though white scars and marks remained, all their wounds had healed. 

[b] The Lists [/b]

As Ser Malrik was leaning against a post, he heard a voice call out, "Ser knight, may I have your attention for a moment?" Malrik would turn to see a mystery knight in dull grey plate with a grinning skull emblazoned on his breastplate. The mystery knight kept his helm on his head and his visor down, and his voice was difficult to discern. Besides his strange device, there was no distinguishable trait about the man. He was of only middling height, and his build was concealed by his standard armor. His swordbelt had no ornamentation. He led a courser horse with plain barding, an unremarkable breed. No squire attended him. 

The mystery knight inclined his helm, "You may call me the Knight of Skulls. But I know who you are. The brave and gallant Ser Malrik. You displayed great chivalry in the lists ser. And admirable valor when you rode to the king's defense. It is clear you are a true knight. And favored by the king. The rumor is that King Jon himself invited you to the wedding feast. If this is true, I have a proposition for you ser." 

The Knight of Skulls looked from side to side and leaned in to whisper, "My beloved is to be betrothed to another man. I have information that she will receive an offer of marriage at the wedding feast. The man is my rival, but he is much wealthier and influential than I. My father forbade me from attending the feast out of fear I'd start a duel, but I only intend to bestow a gift to her. I had hoped to win the tourney and crown her the queen of love and beauty. I see your look ser, no I shall not ask such a gallant knight to cheat. No, against all these great knights and fine riders, I know I will not win. But I still would wish to show her my love but alas I cannot set foot in the Red Keep. They would not allow a Mystery Knight into the castle. And my father is close to the king. If I revealed my identity, I would not be allowed anywhere near the feast. Hence why I need your help. You are an honored guest of the king, and none would dare search you." 

The Knight of Skulls reached into his saddlebags and retrieved a small lacquer box, the most decorated item he seemed to own, covered in elegant designs of aquatic life and mermaids. The knight spoke, "Inside is a gift to my beloved, a note from myself. Her name is Sirenei Marbrand, she is one of Julianna Lannister's handmaidens. She is kissed by fire and has beautiful green eyes, a maiden of nine and ten. You need not approach her directly, simply leave it where she will find it while you are at the feast. She will recognize the box, open it, read the note, and hopefully will be motivated to refuse her suitor." 

The mystery knight reached into his saddlebags and withdrew a large bag that clinked with the telltale sound of coins, "Do this and this gold is all yours. In addition, I made sure our names were drawn against each other in the lists. When the time comes I shall fall off my horse and ensure your victory. From there I will arrange for you to be matched against other worthy opponents. Do this, and you will be wealthy and attain glory. I only ask that you help me maintain my identity and speak word of this to no-one. The Mistress of Whispers has eyes and ears everywhere, and she would surely put a stop to my plan. What say you, Ser Malrik?" 

The man stood before Malrik and awaited an answer. 

[b] Royal Stands [/b] 

Theon turned to his daughter smiled and said, "Of course Taria. You will always be welcome at my side." Theon escorted Taria to the royal stands. He nodded greetings to the Kingsguard on duty and introduced Taria to all the lords and ladies of the court. She was introduced as his daughter to the Queen, to the Lords Paramount, and to many great knights and renowned figures such as Davos Seaworth, Brienne of Tarth, Jorah Mormont, Bronn of the Blackwater, Aegon Targaryen, and many more. Most of the dignitaries, especially the Starks, were close acquaintances of Theon and greeted him with warm smiles. Theon also introduced Taria to several officers of the Night's Watch, some who had been hardened criminals, and others who came from houses of great renown. Finally Theon made his greetings to Asha Greyjoy. The Lady Reaver of the Iron Islands was as hard and stern as ever but welcomed her brother with a firm embrace. She noted Taria and smiled, "Taria. It's been too long. I see you've met your father. Hopefully it wasn't too much of a disappointment." 

Theon smiled gamefully, "Well it couldn't have been anymore disappointing then when she went to meet the Lady Reaver of the Iron Islands and met a sea hag instead." Both siblings laughed aloud at that time and then Taria was re-introduced to several of Asha's children as well as prominent Ironborn such as Qarl the Maid and Triston Botley. After several more moments of hob-knotting and chit-chat, Theon turned to Taria, "Unfortunately for now we must part my daughter. I must begin entreating this high lords to continue funding the Night's Watch with material, money, and men. The brothers on the Wall tell tales of flesh-eating ghouls, mad wolfmen, and other horrors. Stories perhaps, but then we once thought that of the White Walkers. I must go but I will rejoin you later, you can be sure. If not now then at the feast." Theon indicated several of the younger lordlings and maidens, "It's never a bad idea to make a noble friend, trust me, they come in handy." 

Theon held Taria's hand, smiled, and left to sweet talk Lord Brandon, leaving Taria to her own devices. As he left, Prince Viserys walked up the stairs followed by his squire Doran Martell. Despite his defeat on the field, he walked as tall and proud as a war hero returning home. He dressed himself in a fine silken doublet with the emblem of a knight, lance raised, flying on the three-headed dragon. He passed by Taria, stopped, and intrigued; introduced himself, bowing to her, "My lady. I am Prince Viserys, though Viserys will perfectly suffice. I have the honor to make your acquaintance. What might your name be? And which one of these wrinkled old men is your father? I have difficulty discerning where such striking looks would come from." 

Meanwhile Arya Stark whispered in Daenerys' ear, "After the feast, your husband wishes to convene a meeting of the small council. We have urgent matters to discuss, relating to recent security breaches and our enemies both foreign and domestic." 

Daenerys whispered back, "Very well. But Aemon will not participate. It is his wedding night, he has other matters to attend. Inform the others, discreetly, then see to the rest of your business. Thank you Arya." 

Arya bowed, "My pleasure." She withdrew but not before she was intercepted by Aemon and Julianna, who were holding hands. 

Aemon smiling widely hugged Arya, and after a moment she returned the gesture, "Auntie, it's been too long." 

"Yes it has nephew, though you look well. It seems the ocean sun has done you wonders. Your father would have burnt." 

Aemon chuckled as Julianna smiled, "Aunt Arya, it is always a pleasure." 

Arya returned the smile and inclined her head, "Likewise, niece. Today is a great day. I watched the two of you grow up. I watched you turn into a man worthy of the throne Aemon, and you Julianna I know you will be the right woman to sit by his side. I promise to both of you that I will serve in any and every way I can." 

Aemon smiled, "Don't be so formal Auntie. Father is a stubborn man. When the Stranger comes, he will challenge him to a duel. I won't be king for decades yet." 

Arya smiled minutely, "You are right of course. However I have other matters to attend Aemon, plus excuse me. I will of course rejoin you at the feast. Tell your brother I've never seen anyone lose with such style." 

The Crown Prince laughed and Arya bowed to her niece and nephew before withdrawing. On the way she stopped to inform all the members of the small council about the meeting after the feast. She stood before Tyrion, Sansa, and Willas. She offered all of them a smile, "Sister. Willas. Tyrion. Pardon the interruption, but I will simply inform you that the King and Queen desire a meeting after the feast and the bedding. There are matters of incredible import to discuss and the Crown Prince will not be joining us." 

Tyrion raised his cup, "And that is for all the better. I love the boy like a son, but he broods just as much as his father. I do believe they both came out of the womb with stern looks and furrowed brows. If the two of them were in the same room discussing pirate raids and rebellions, I do believe we might simply all slip into a comatose state of worry and depression." 

Sansa giggled, "And how is that any different from your wine-induced comas dear husband?" 

Tyrion sipped from his goblet and declined to answer. 

Arya smiled and Sansa said, "You needn't run off. Try the vintage, Tyrion is good at something besides drinking and japes after all." 

Arya shook her head, "I'm afraid not. I have urgent matters to attend to. Perhaps at the feast." 

She turned to Willas and inclined her head, "Congratulations on your son's victory. He is a fine rider. He would make a fine Kingsguard if that were his ambition. Though he might be too fond of the maidens for that to be a reality. I have seen my nephew bested once or twice, but never in such spectacular fashion." 

"My lords, Sansa." Arya bowed her head and retreated from the royal stands but not before she turned to the Freys and stared Jenn right in the eye before leaving. 

Tyrion finished drinking and poured himself another, "Your sister is quite possibly the most frightening woman I've ever known."

"Including your sister?" 

"Hmm, fair point." 

Tyrion turned to Willas, "Such a shame. What the Fossoways may lack in heraldy they make up for in wine. But no worries, I have persuaded the Dornish to provide some of their reds for the wedding. They assure me it is quite the superior. Perhaps we shall find out together? And you may certainly take a cask of Imp's Delight home... as long as you are open to part with a fine Arbor gold." 

Sansa smiled at Willas, "It is tremendous how far we have come. All of us lost fathers, siblings, friends in that terrible war. All of us doubted that we would see the sun again in the Long Night. But here we are, healing the wounds of the past, and united in friendship and peace. We thank you for your well wishes Willas, and I can speak for both myself and my husband when we wish the same for your children. May they all live happily and never know the horrors we did. To our children, and a bright future." Sansa raised her glass for a toast and they all drank. 

Tyrion spoke next, "Indeed, my daughter truly is a lucky woman. Married to a gallant prince, and she took after her mother save for her hair and eyes. Thank the gods. I dare not think on what the kingdom would think if Aemon married a woman who looked like me." Tyrion chuckled and drank again. 

"Though, I note that your own daughter is unwed, and so is my son. Tom is a bright lad, brave. A few years her junior yes, but I think it would be wonderful if they were to meet. Your family should share our table. It is only prudent that the young lions and young roses become friends. And if something more blooms, all for the better. Am I right?" 

Sansa giggled and poked Tyrion softly in the arm, "Stop it you incorrigible man. One child going off to marriage and already you're looking for another. Why not let Tom alone. Aemon is ten years older and he is just married. It can wait. Besides, it seems my nephew and Alerie are getting rather well acquainted." Sansa gestured to the Prince Jahaerys and Princess Baella, who were amiably conversing with Willas' daughter. 

Tyrion scoffed, "Jahaerys is a gallant lad, that is simply how he engages with all the women of the court. He would act so sweetly if the maiden in question had a clubfoot and a sty." 

Sansa rolled her eyes at her husband with a smile and laughed. 

They all turned as Ser Aerion addressed them. While he had been hob-knobbing he learned all of the troubles of the realm. He heard talk of religious and ethnic unrest in many townships, of the Freemen Brotherhood of Outlaws harrying small holdfasts and keeps, of increasingly deadly attacks on Marcher and Dornish settlements alike by the Vulture King, of the mountain clans growing bold in their raids, of the [i]Silence[/i] harassing merchant ships, of rebellion in the Stepstones, or peasants mysterious disappearing and rabid tales of blood-sucking fiends, witches, demons, wolfmen, and corpse-eating ghouls. He learned that Hellgate Hall was currently in possession of the Vulture King, that many rebel Stepstoners had holdfasts in their islands, and that many holdfasts and small keeps destroyed in the previous wars were still ruins and there were rumors of secret smuggling and slaving bases along the Blackwater rush. 

The trio of small Councillors greeted Aerion cordially. Tyrion had a page hand Aerion a drink, "We heard all about your gallant aid to my brother-in-law. Please have a drink with us ser. What brings you to our company today?" 

Meanwhile Jahaerys' pale skin blushed as Alerie teased him and Baella giggled, "Dragons may set their enemies aflame, but the old legends tell us they horded gold, and so one can see that they adored things of beauty." Baella interjected, "Viserys has a reputation as I'm sure you've heard Alerie, but Jahaerys is barely any better. For he is much more eloquent. And unmarried." Jahaerys laughed, "Please sister, we've just met Alerie and you're already painting me as a rogue. We would be delighted to accompany you to the fairgrounds my lady. If we happen upon your brother, I would be glad to congratulate him. I always believed Viserys needed to be humbled a bit." 

He escorted his sister and Alerie down the stairs and a pair of Kingsguard broke off to follow them. Jahaerys walked closely to Alerie and though he was composed, she may have detected a spot of nervousness. Despite this Jahaerys gamely pointed out all the wonders of the fair and identified many significant personages by name. 

"Is there anything in particular you'd wish to see or do? We have curiosities and distractions of all varieties, and my father will compete in the melee soon." 

Jahaerys was interrupted when Rhaenys and her gaggle of children ran down the stairs to follow. Rhaenys stopped in front of the older nobles and said, "Jahaerys, let us come with you. It'll be terribly boring in the stands now that Viserys has finished." Jahaerys smiled, "Rhaenys, we are escorting the Lady Alerie to the fair. It would be entirely up to her as she is our guest." Rhaenys turned to Alerie and smiled widely, "Hello. Let us come with you, we can go introduce you to the dragons! They're near the royal pavilion!"  

As this was occurring, a page bearing the Targaryen colors and with the look of a Tully approached Steffon and Jenn. He bowed, but with a bit of smirk and said, "Prince Aemon sends his regards and would be honored if you would join him and the Princess in the royal box." Aemon and Julianna were engrossed in conversation with a large group of young lordlings and ladies, and no doubt Aemon sent the boy as a gesture to a childhood friend. 

[b]The Grand Melee[/b]

Jon sat atop his horse, anxiously, along with the whole field as all awaited the sound of the horn to start the mock battle. Though there could only be one winner, many warriors formed partnerships or assembled into teams. Some would turn on each other when the odds evened while others sought to help a promising friend attain the glory or else split the champion's purse between them. Jon for his part rode alone. He said nothing and felt his heart start to beat faster in anticipation of the starting horn. This was always the worst part, the calm before the storm. The moments before he rode into the heat of battle. 

When the horn sounded however, he felt himself calm. He spurred his horse forward, drew his blade and fell into old comfortable rhythm. On the battlefield, all worries of the future passed. All doubts and concerns ceased. Only the drive to survive and fight remained. He had fought in the deadliest wars in living memory, had survived countless battles, had faced off against foes and threats straight from nightmares. This melee paled in comparison. But still it was chaos, as scores of shouting armored foes crashed into each other or rode by, with all manner of blunted tourney weapons. 

Jon charged forward, sword aimed at another knight who wielded a longaxe. Jon parried the man's blow and as they passed he swiped him in the back, knocking him off balance as Jon wheeled around for another pass. The knight recovered, tried to swing again but Jon dodged. The two circled each other on their mounts, parrying and slashing rapidly until Jon swept the axe out of the man's hand and knocked the side of his helm with a mighty blow, sending toppling from the seat and into the dirt. Jon kept moving, charging at another opponent until said warrior was unhorsed by another rider's tourney lance. Jon hit the lancer in the chest with a sideways blow with enough strength to send him flying out of the saddle. Two knights came at Jon then, boxing him in on both sides and each with a longsword. Jon parried one sword and titled back to avoid the other before springing back in the seat and catching one knight in the wrist with his own weapon. The man cried out and dropped his sword as they rode past and Jon pursued. The man fumbled for a dagger until Jon rode by and punched him in the face as he turned to slash and parry with the other swordsman. Jon knocked the man's sword arm down and Jon twirled in the saddle to hit the man's gut. He doubled over and Jon hit him in the back with his pommel before forcibly pulling him from the seat. The chaos continued, shouts and screams mixed with the clash of steel as hundreds of opponents fought on horse or on foot. 

One hedge knight with a tourney lance spotted Mable and decided she made an appetizing target, riding towards her and raising his lance to strike her in the armor and knock her in the dirt. Already many of the fighters had been injured and were being carried or dragged off the field but the melee was still in it's early stages.