Sorry, I thought it was just a common cold, but it's gotten worse these past two days. I can't write much, so please bear with me. I'll catch up as soon as possible in the next few days. Thank you.
"Didn't I tell you?" The Hound said. "This is just gnats fighting."
The King began to look bored, and Sansa grew nervous, so she lowered her eyes, deciding to stay quiet no matter what happened. When Joffrey Baratheon was in a bad mood, any careless word could send him into a rage.
"Rosso Brune, a Free Rider in the service of Lord Baelish!" the Master of Ceremonies shouted. "Ser Dontos of House Horald, the Red Knight!"
The Free Rider immediately appeared on the west side of the tourney grounds. He was small, wearing dented armor with no decoration, but his opponent was nowhere to be seen. After waiting for a while, a chestnut steed finally ran out, a crimson silk banner fluttering in the wind, but Ser Dontos was not on it. After another moment, Ser Dontos finally stumbled onto the field, cursing as he chased his horse, completely naked except for a breastplate and a plumed helmet. His legs were pale, thin, and spindly, and his member swung back and forth sickeningly. The audience immediately booed. Ser Dontos grabbed the reins of his mount, trying to climb onto its back, but the horse wouldn't stand still, and the Knight, drunk as a lord, couldn't get his bare feet into the stirrups.
By this time, the audience was roaring with laughter... except for the King. Joffrey's eyes held the same expression they had when he sentenced Duke Eddard Stark to death in front of the Great Sept of Baelor. Below, the Red Knight, Ser Dontos, finally decided to give up, sitting heavily in the mud and taking off his plumed helmet. "I yield!" he shouted. "Give me some wine!"
The King suddenly stood up. "Bring a barrel from the cellar! I want to see him drown in it."
Sansa gasped. "No! You can't do that!"
Joffrey turned his head. "What did you say?"
Sansa couldn't believe what she had just said. Was she mad? To say "no" to him in front of all the Courtiers? She hadn't intended to speak, but... although Ser Dontos was drunk, foolish, and useless, he wasn't malicious.
"You said I 'can't'? Is that what you said?"
"I..." Sansa said. "I just think... if you kill someone on your Naming Day... it will bring bad luck, Your Majesty."
"You're lying," Joffrey said. "Since you care about him so much, I'll just have you both drowned together!"
"Your Majesty, I don't care about him," the words tumbled out of her desperately. "You can drown him or cut off his head, but... if you must kill him, please do it tomorrow... just not today, please, it's your Naming Day. I can't bear to see you bring bad luck upon yourself... even a King will bring bad luck if he does this... the singers all say so..."
Joffrey furrowed his brows. She could tell he knew she was lying, and it seemed she was in for more trouble.
"The girl is right," The Hound said gruffly. "They say the seeds sown on your Naming Day bear fruit all year." His tone was flat, as if he didn't care whether the King believed him or not. Was there really such a saying? Sansa had actually never heard it, she had just made it up to escape punishment.
Joffrey shifted unhappily in his chair, gesturing towards Ser Dontos. "Take him away! I'll kill him tomorrow, this fool."
"He is indeed a fool," Sansa said. "You are truly wise and saw it at a glance. Such a fool should be a jester, not a Knight, shouldn't he? You should put him in a clown suit and make him perform tricks, he doesn't deserve a clean death."
The King stared at her for a moment. "Perhaps you're not as stupid as Mother says." He raised his voice. "Dontos, did you hear what the lady said? From today on, you are my new jester. You can change into a clown suit and sleep with Moon Boy."
Ser Dontos, having just brushed with death, was now completely sober. He scrambled up from the ground. "Thank you, Your Majesty. And you, my lady, thank you."
Two Lannister guards led him away, and the Master of Ceremonies entered the box. "Your Majesty," he asked, "do you want me to summon a new opponent for Brune, or should we move on to the next group?"
"Neither. These men are gnats, not Knights. If it weren't my Naming Day, I'd have them all executed. The tourney is over, get them all out of my sight!"
The Master of Ceremonies bowed respectfully upon hearing this, but Tommen was not so obedient. "I was supposed to joust with the Scarecrow!"
"Another day."
"But I want to joust!"
"I don't care what you want."
"Mother said I could joust!"
"She did," Princess Myrcella echoed.
"'Mother said'," the King mimicked his brother's tone. "Stop being childish!"
"We are children," Myrcella stated matter-of-factly. "We are supposed to be childish."
The Hound laughed heartily. "You can't argue with that."
Joffrey gave in. "Alright, my brother can't be any worse than those fellows just now anyway. Someone, bring out the quintain, Tommen is eager to be a gnat."
Tommen cheered happily, waddling his fat legs as he ran off to get dressed. "Good luck!" Sansa said to him.
So they set up a quintain at the other end of the tourney grounds and saddled the Prince's pony. Tommen's opponent was a leather warrior the height of a child, stuffed with straw, standing on a pivot, holding a shield in one hand and a padded mace in the other. Someone had even tied a pair of antlers to the dummy's head. Sansa remembered Joffrey's father, the late King Robert, had antlers on his helmet... and so did Joffrey's uncle, Duke Renly, Robert's youngest brother, who was now a traitor and had declared himself King.
Two attendants helped the Prince into his ornate silver and crimson little armor. A large bunch of red feathers adorned the top of his helmet, and on his shield, the roaring Lannister lion and the crowned Baratheon stag playfully faced each other. The attendants helped him onto his horse, and Ser Aron Santagar, the Red Keep's Master-at-Arms, stepped forward and handed Tommen a silver blunted longsword. The blade was leaf-shaped, and the hilt was specially crafted for an eight-year-old boy's hand.
Tommen raised his sword high. "Casterly Rock forever!" he shouted in his childish voice, squeezing the pony's sides with his legs, and galloped across the hard mud towards the quintain. Lady Tanda and Lord Gyles cheered unevenly, and Sansa joined in. The King, meanwhile, continued to sulk.
Tommen urged his pony into a fast run, and as he passed the dummy, he bravely swung his longsword, hitting the dummy Knight's shield squarely. The quintain spun around, and the padded mace swung back, hitting the Prince hard on the back of the head. Tommen flew off his horse, landing heavily on the ground, his brand new armor clanging like a sack of scrap metal. He dropped his sword, and his pony ran away from him, disappearing beyond the walls. Laughter erupted all around, and King Joffrey's laughter was the loudest and longest.
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