"Haha, Marvellous! Marvellous!!" Robert exclaimed in jubilation, slapping his thigh again and again, as wine spilt from the goblet he was holding in his other hand, but the man did not seem to care, "I knew the boy had it in him, I knew it!" he boasted proudly to the members of the small council beside him, who all smiled appropriately to humour him.
At the centre of the Tourney grounds, Jon disembarked from his horse and immediately went to help the defeated knight back up on his feet.
"Are you fine, Ser?" Jon asked in a worried voice as he examined the elderly knight to make sure that there were no signs of broken bones or twisted fingers.
"Of course, lad." The old knight groaned in answer as he shook his head, and slowly got up with his help, "I learned to fall long before I learned to ride. So do not worry about hurting this old man. I will simply have some ugly bruises for a week or so and then be back to having just back pain and knobby knees," he chuckled as he rotated his arms to loosen his joints, "Though it has been quite a few decades since someone has sent me flying on the third pass," he said as he looked appraisingly at the boy who he had grown very fond of over the week or so that he had known him, "You did a good job, boy," he praised as he patted the boy on his shoulder.
ROAR
At that moment, the crowd in the stands, who had already been clapping and cheering, became even more enthusiastic in their celebration and began screaming themselves hoarse as they saw the gesture from the Legendary knight for the young winner.
This was the kind of thing that they had only ever heard tales about, so to see it happening right in front of their own eyes was a dream come true for them.
And some of the usual braggarts sitting amidst the stands almost couldn't hold in their excitement and immediately began running from their seats, wanting nothing more than to rush towards their homes, their friends or even the nearest tavern, to just share(boast) everything that they had seen here today.
"The crowd seems to adore you very much," The knight commented in a low voice as he turned towards the stands with a distant look in his eyes, as if he was seeing something that was not here.
The knight remembered the last time he had seen someone be so popular amongst the smallfolk populace, and how easy it had been for that man to put smiles on the faces of his subjects. 'The charisma is here too...'
"They just appreciate the one who wins," Jon answered with a a humble smile, as both of them took their horses by their reins and began to head towards the exit, "If it had been someone else winning out here, then I am sure they would have cheered for him just as enthusiastically," he said as he raised his hand towards the stands, making the screams from the smallfolks even louder.
"Hm, I am not so certain about that," Barristan replied with an amused look on his face, "After all, the Tyrell boy is just as young as you, and he too has not lost a single bout yet, but I do not see them being so enthusiastic in chanting his name."
And was that not the truth, as out of all the contestants out here competing in this tourney, which included almost all the big famous characters from the Seven Kingdoms, it was Jon Snow, the bastard from the North, whose name was the most repeated on the lips of bards, sailors, and smallfolks in the taverns of King's Landing.
It was as if every one of them had already decided that the boy was to be the champion of this tournament... even though it was the first time he was competing in one.
And the reason behind it all was also not very hard to deduce, as not only was the boy's entrance into the port of King's Landing grand enough that it was still the talk of the city a week later.
But he was also an underdog in their opinion, someone who did not come from privilege, who they could relate to much more than the other nobles, as he was a bastard who made his fortune with his own hands.
Plus, it did not hurt that the boy was as handsome and charismatic as they come, and was skilled enough to beat all the arrogant noble lords out there in a fair fight.
Not to mention, this whole Tourney was being held in his name for the feat of defeating an evil pirate king far away in the Stepstones... so all in all, one could say that after just a few days, the name Jon Snow had become the most famous one in this city, and now even beggars about the bastard of the North.
"The Melee is in a few days, so will you be participating in—"
"Ser Barristan! Jon Snow!"
A loud booming voice interrupted Jon's inquiry, and both men turned their heads only to see the King standing at the edge of his platform, excitedly waving them to come to him.
The two exchanged helpless glances with each other at that, knowing that their chance to get some well-deserved rest had just disappeared, but there was little that one could do in front of the king's orders, so they sent away their horses and began making their way towards the Royal pavilion.
...
"Haha, tell me, Ser Barristan, how did it feel to lose to someone so young?" Robert began in a teasing voice the moment he caught sight of the man climbing the stairs, his entire being radiating with the excitement of someone who has just had a satisfying big meal.
It had always been a guilty pleasure of the Baratheon king to watch the high and mighty veteran knights, some of whom were even older than him, lose miserably to the younger ones.
It made the man feel as if his decision to let go, and enjoy himself to the fullest, uncaring of his health and body, was not so bad.
After all, even these men who rigorously trained themselves every single day were out here losing to these brats, so was it not a better use of time to drink and party to his heart's content?
"Not too bad, your grace," Ser Barristan answered gracioucly, looking completely unbothered by the defeat, "It was a humbling experience to lose so thoroughly out there; it makes me feel that it is time I leave these youthful competitions to the... youth."
"Ah, nonsense!" Robert snorted as he waved his hand, "Don't hide behind your age, old man. We all know how sharp your skills still are," he said as he turned his eyes towards Jon, who had been silently standing beside him, "It was the boy's pure skill that beat you, nothing else."
"I cannot argue with that, your grace," Barristan smiled before he nodded to Jon and went to join his fellows standing guard behind the royals.
Just as Jon was also contemplating on an excuse to take his leave, Robert sighed, "Ah, if only your father had been here, I am sure he would have been very proud of you," he said with a nostalgic expression on his face, as if imaginging Eddard sitting beside him braggin about his son, and him feeling jealous because none of his progeny had anything worth bragging about, "Why are you standing so far, come take a seat beside me,"
Robert said as he enthusiastically patted the chair beside him.
Only half the small council was present on the royal platform at the moment, because Jon Arryn, whose seat Robert was pointing at for Jon, was still back in the Red Keep, stuck in his chambers handling the increased paperwork because of the sudden influx of all the Nobles, Merchants, and other smallfolks into the Capital.
And keep him company in the Red Keep was Stannis, who was staying away from the Tourney with the same excuse, that there were too many ships entering and exiting the Harbour for him to comfortably sit here 'entertaining' himself with games.
Another notable absence was of the Master of Whisperer, Varys, who had actually been very enthusiastic about always being present for the popular games of the Tourney, continuously keeping his eyes peeled over the various pavallion belonging to the Lord paramounts to see who was speaking with whom, but for some reason, over the past few days, the Eunuch had begun taking his leave midway through citing various excuses, and the ones who were the most familiar with him, had long noticed that the man looked... distressed underneath his fake smile.
In the end, the only ones present here for the much-anticipated semi-final of the Tourney were Baelish, Renly, and Maester Pycelle, and joining them from the smaller seats at the front were Myrcella and Tommen, with their dearest Uncle Tyrion sitting beside them, keeping them entertained.
The Queen was also not here, but she was indeed present in the grounds and was sitting beside her father and other family members in the Lannister part of the stands, and accompanying her was her eldest son, Joffrey, and their absence was one of the reasons that the two royal children were so relaxed and peeking at Jon with curiosity in their eyes.
"You need to tell me how you trained yourself, boy," Robert asked the moment Jon took his seat, "How can your strikes be so precise, and how ever did you achieve your level of strength at this age? There has to be a secret behind this... Did your father make you drink some ancient magical juice or something, or perhaps sacrifice some animals to the Heart tree to ask the old gods for strength?" he asked with a mischievous look in his eyes, as he leaned down to whisper, "Don't worry, you can tell me, I will keep your secret."