Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

I apologize, I thought it was just a common cold, but it's gotten worse these past two days. I can't write much, please bear with me. I will try to make up for it in the next few days. Thank you.

Sansa would pay any price for a chance to reunite with him. "I fear for the life of your opponent," she said solemnly to Tommen.

"His opponent is a scarecrow," Joffrey said, rising to his feet. The king was wearing gilded armor today, with a roaring lion sculpted on his chest, as if expecting to throw himself into battle at any moment. He was just thirteen years old today, well-developed, very tall, with the Lannister family's characteristic golden hair and blue eyes.

"Your Grace," she curtsied.

Ser Arys also bowed. "Your Grace, please allow me to take my leave first, I must dress and prepare for the joust."

Joffrey abruptly waved him away, his eyes never leaving Sansa. He looked her up and down. "I'm glad you're wearing the jeweled hairnet I gave you."

It seemed the king intended to play the hero today, and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for your kindness, Your Grace… and thank you for your compliment. Your Grace, I hope you have a happy nameday."

"Sit," Joffrey commanded, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. "Have you heard? The beggar king is dead."

"Who?" For a moment, Sansa feared he meant Robb.

"Viserys, the last son of the 'Mad King' Aerys. Since I was born, he's been traveling the Free Cities, calling himself king. Hmph, Mother says the Dothraki finally crowned him, but with molten gold." He laughed. "Don't you think it's funny? The dragon is his sigil, it's like your traitorous brother being killed by wolves. Maybe when I catch him, I'll feed him to the wolves. Did I ever tell you I was going to duel him face to face?"

"Your Grace, I would be delighted to watch." More than delighted, she thought. Sansa kept her tone calm and polite, but Joffrey narrowed his eyes, trying to judge if she was mocking him. "Will you be jousting today?" she quickly asked.

The king frowned. "Mother says it's inappropriate, because this tourney is being held to celebrate me. But if I were to joust, I'd win for sure, wouldn't I, Hound?"

The Hound's lips twitched. "Fight with these sorts? That goes without saying."

He was the champion of her father's tourney, Sansa hadn't forgotten. "Ser, will you be participating today?" she asked him.

Clegane's voice was filled with disdain. "They're not worthy. This tourney is just gnats fighting."

The king laughed. "Oh, my dog's bark is truly frightening. I think we should have you duel today's champion, to the death." Joffrey loved forcing people to fight to the death.

"Then you'd be short one knight." The Hound himself had never taken the knight's vows. His brother was a knight, and he loathed him intensely.

At that moment, a horn sounded suddenly, and the king sat back in his chair, taking Sansa's hand. Once, this gesture would have made her heart race, but after she begged him to spare her father, he ordered his execution and public display, so now his touch filled her with revulsion, but she knew she couldn't show it, so she forced herself to remain calm.

"Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard!" the herald announced.

Ser Meryn entered the lists from the west, clad in bright white-gold armor, riding a milk-white warhorse, its gray mane flying, a long cloak like a snowy field behind him, a twelve-foot lance in his hand.

"Ser Horas Redwyne of the Arbor!" the herald called. Ser Horas rode a black stallion into the lists from the east, the horse draped in liveries of crimson and blue, the same colors tied to his lance, his shield bearing the grape cluster sigil. The Redwyne twins, like Sansa, were guests that the Queen Mother insisted on keeping. She wondered who had come up with the idea of having them participate in Joffrey's tourney, surely it wasn't their own idea, she thought.

At the herald's command, the two contestants leveled their lances, kicked their heels, and charged. Shouts rose from the watching guards and the noble men and women in the stands, the two knights clashing in the center of the field, splinters flying, steel ringing. In less than a second, the white lance and the flowered lance shattered. Horas Redwyne staggered in the saddle from the force of the impact, but managed to stay on his horse. They each turned their horses at the end of the field, discarded their broken lances, and accepted new ones from their squires. Ser Horas's twin brother, Ser Hobber Redwyne, cheered for his brother.

They clashed again, but this time Ser Meryn shifted his aim, striking Ser Horas in the chest, sending him flying from his horse, crashing to the ground. Ser Horas rushed to help up his stricken brother, cursing incessantly.

"Terrible jousting," King Joffrey commented.

"Ser Balon Swann of Stonehelm in the Marches!" the herald announced again. Ser Balon's helm was adorned with a pair of large white wings, his shield painted with a black and white swan fighting. "Moroos Slynt, heir to Lord Janos Slynt of Harrenhal!"

"Look at that donkey!" Joffrey shouted loudly, so loudly that half the field could hear. Moroos was just a squire, and a newly made squire at that, barely able to hold a lance and shield. Sansa knew that the lance was the weapon of knights, and the Slynnts were of low birth. Lord Janos had originally been the commander of the City Watch, recently elevated by Joffrey to Lord of Harrenhal and a high-ranking official in the court.

He'd better fall off his horse and embarrass himself in front of everyone, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him. It was Janos Slynt who seized Eddard Stark's head after Joffrey sentenced her father to death and had him beheaded, hoisting it high for all to see, while Sansa could only sob and wail.

Moroos's black armor was inlaid with delicate golden swirls, over which he wore a black and gold checkered cloak. His shield was painted with a bloody spear, the sigil his father had chosen. But he didn't seem to know where to put the shield, blindly spurring his horse forward, resulting in Ser Balon inadvertently striking his shield's center. Moroos frantically dropped his lance, trying to keep his balance, but to no avail. The boy fell from his horse, one foot caught in the stirrup, dragged by the frenzied warhorse to the end of the field, his head bouncing on the ground. Joffrey laughed loudly at the sight, but Sansa was horrified, wondering if the gods had heard her prayer for revenge. Finally, they managed to get Moroos Slynt off the horse, and found that although he was covered in blood, he was still alive. "Tommen, we picked the wrong opponent for you," the king said to his brother. "This fellow's even worse than a scarecrow."

Next up was Ser Horas Redwyne, who performed better than his twin brother, defeating an old knight. The old knight's mount was decorated with silver griffin livery, based on blue and white stripes. Although imposing, his strength did not match his appearance. "Truly terrible."

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