The king's two squires forced nervous smiles, and he turned back to them.
Eddard studied them for a moment. Needless to say, they were Lannisters.
Both were handsome youths, fair-skinned and well-built. The one with golden curls looked about Sansa's age. The other was around fifteen, with tawny hair, a trace of a mustache, and emerald-green eyes just like the Queen's.
"You, yes, you two. Did you hear what the Hand said? The king is too fat to fit into his armor. Go fetch Ser Aron Santagar and tell him I need the tongs to pry open the breastplate. Move! What are you waiting for?"
The boys bolted from the bedchamber in a panic, nearly tripping over themselves on the way out. As soon as they were gone, the king dropped his stern act and burst into laughter.
"Those two are Lannisters?" Eddard asked.
Robert nodded, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. "Her cousins. Sons of Lord Tywin's younger brother. The dead one… or maybe the one still alive? I can't remember. Eddard, my wife comes from a very large house."
Eddard said nothing. House Lannister truly was vast and far-reaching, and Tywin alone had three brothers. On top of that, the Lannisters were fiercely ambitious, never satisfied when it came to power and glory.
Eddard had no issue with the boys themselves, but he would have preferred if they were close kin of House Baratheon or sons of Stormlands lords. The king was surrounded by Lannisters day and night, yet Robert himself seemed not to mind in the slightest.
"I heard you quarreled with the Queen last night?" Eddard asked.
The cheer on Robert's face vanished at once.
"That woman tried to stop me from taking part in today's melee. She's still sulking in the castle. Let her sulk herself to death for all I care. Your sister would never have shamed me like that."
"Robert, you didn't know Lyanna as well as I did," Eddard said. "You saw her beauty, but not her will. If she were still alive, she'd tell you the same thing: you have no place in the melee."
After a long exchange, Eddard finally managed to talk the king out of joining the tournament.
As they continued talking, the mood between them warmed, and Robert's gloom slowly faded. They spoke of the throne, of the Queen, of the Iron Throne. They even reminisced about their days at the Eyrie, when they used to pelt each other with citrus fruits until the great hall was filled with them flying through the air.
Eddard found himself carried away by the memory, his spirits lifting. His friend Robert still seemed the same as before, still devoted to Lord Arryn. Robert was still someone he could rely on. Whether it was the Lannisters or Littlefinger and his kind, the king alone held supreme authority.
Eddard accompanied the king into the tournament grounds. He had already promised to watch the final match with Sansa. Because of her quarrel with the king, the Queen had not come in person today.
The first bout was the Hound against the Kingslayer, Jaime. The Hound, a Lannister enforcer, now faced the very lion of House Lannister.
Sandor Clegane entered the field first, clad in smoke-gray armor with an olive-green cloak draped over it. Aside from that cloak and his hound-headed helm, he wore no ornament.
Jaime rode in on a graceful blood-brown warhorse, its body covered in gilded chainmail. He himself gleamed from head to toe, and his longspear was fashioned from goldenwood of the Summer Isles.
The match had not yet begun, but wagers were already being called.
"A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer," Littlefinger said.
"I'm in," Great Lord Renly called back. "I'd say the Hound looks especially hungry this morning."
"Even a hungry dog knows better than to bite the hand that feeds it," Littlefinger replied coolly.
"Hold on. Two hundred golden dragons on Ser Jaime."
A voice cut through the crowd. The speaker was short, dusty from travel. Tyrion hurried in, still wrapped in a shadowcat pelt that made him look even more mismatched than usual. He was followed by his squire and two sellswords.
"Thank the gods, I didn't miss my brother's match."
With Bronn and the others at his side, the Imp joined the stands. Though often mocked, he was still a Lannister.
"Well now, if it isn't our little friend," Great Lord Renly said with a grin.
"I'm honored that Great Lord Renly still remembers me," Tyrion replied.
"Of course. How could I forget that big head of yours?" Renly laughed. "Been a while since I last saw you. I actually missed you."
"It's an honor to see you, my lord. I thought I was the only one still backing Ser Jaime," Littlefinger said with a smile, looking at Tyrion.
"The honor is mine, Lord Littlefinger. You won't lose my golden dragons."
The Imp wanted to wipe that smile off Littlefinger's face, but he told himself this was not the time. Littlefinger was far too well liked. Everyone thought he was their friend.
The Imp looked around the crowd. His showy sister was nowhere to be seen, which could only mean the King and Queen had clashed again.
Littlefinger sensed that something was off, but quickly steadied himself. A fool was a double-edged sword by nature, and he was confident he could keep playing this game well.
The Imp spotted Eddard standing beside the king. The Great Lord of Winterfell was wearing a rare smile today, but it flickered the instant he saw the Imp. So Lord Eddard knew about what had happened at the inn as well. Still, with so many eyes and ears around, this was no place to speak of it.
Jon, standing among the crowd, saw the Imp too, but out of caution he did not greet his friend.
"You came at the right time, little brother." Ser Jaime waved at the Imp, then tossed a kiss to some lady in the crowd before lowering his visor and riding to the edge of the field. The Hound had no patience for such flourishes and simply prepared to fight.
The two knights lowered their visors, took their places, and dropped their longspears.
Eddard's face showed nothing when he saw the Imp return, but his mind was full of thoughts.
Jaime, the Hound, the Mountain, the Imp... the Lannisters had all arrived nice and neatly together. The lions had practically swallowed all of King's Landing. The Imp had little martial strength, but his brain was said to be sharp, and crippled men always thought more than most. Not to mention all those sticky little hanger-ons. The Queen's faction had people everywhere.
"And what of the King's faction? Where are Robert's trusted men?" Eddard let out a sigh. For things to have fallen apart this badly, the king himself had to be the biggest problem.
Yet the king was still laughing and joking, delighted at the thought of seeing the Kingslayer lose and go sprawling. Sansa, meanwhile, was watching the match with her full attention, enjoying the spectacle without thinking too deeply about it.
The two horses broke into a full gallop, making the hastily built stands tremble. Few prayed for the Hound's victory, but there were not many blessing the Kingslayer either. The people had not forgotten the past. The Kingslayer had slain the Mad King, and Tywin had once put King's Landing to the sword.
Shield in one hand and longspear in the other, the two knights charged at each other. Jousting was not quite the same as war. More than anything, it tested a man's horsemanship. Ser Jaime and the Hound both leaned forward and struck with their longspears. But the Hound was a little too eager. Just before impact, the Kingslayer shifted his body aside, and the tip of the Hound's spear was turned away by the Kingslayer's golden shield bearing a lion. The Kingslayer came through untouched, while the Hound took a solid hit and nearly fell from his horse.
The crowd roared its approval. It was a splendid match.
"I'm going to win," the Imp said to Renly and Littlefinger. As long as Jaime was in the lists, he always bet on his brother to win.
"Yes, my lord," Littlefinger said, then turned to Renly. "I should start thinking about how to spend your money."
But the second pass came quickly. The Hound looked ragged, but he had not been unhorsed. The Kingslayer threw aside his broken lance and took up a fresh one. The Hound kicked his horse forward hard, and the Kingslayer rode out to meet him.
Victory came with startling speed. Both longspears shattered at once, but the Kingslayer's horse came out riderless. The Kingslayer went rolling through the mud, still glittering gold, though his helmet had been battered inward.
"It seems I'll have to excuse myself for a bit," the Imp said, asking leave to go down.
Jaime looked utterly miserable. His elaborately adorned lion helm had been twisted out of shape by the impact and the fall. The Kingslayer got to his feet, but he could not pull the helmet off. The spectators pointed and jeered. The whole crowd erupted in noise, and the king led the noble lords and ladies in laughter, his own booming laugh drowning out the rest.
"Jon, he's here too."
The Imp went down into the field to lead the Lannisters to a smith, and there he spotted Jon Snow in the crowd.