They turned their attention back to the field where the drama had intensified.
Both the contestants had put their hands in front of Margaery, seemingly leaving the decision to her.
For a moment, there was complete silence in the stands as everyone held their breath and focused their eyes on them, watching to see which one Margaery chose to bestow her favour.
Margaery seemed to feel the weight of all those eyes upon her. She glanced towards the stands before looking back at the two boys.
But then, just as she made a decision and raised the ribbon, one of the hands in front of her reached forward and snatched it out of her hands before taking off.
"Oi!"
Jon yelled indignantly as he made to chase after him, but then, just after a few steps, thought better of it and stopped, realising it would be too childish to run around in front of the crowd.
"You'll need to win to get it," Loras shouted triumphantly as he waved the ribbon while running towards his horse on the other side, grinning all the way.
"You're going down, you brat," Jon called back before he turned and made his way towards Pegasus with a resolute expression, as if about to go to war.
Margaery, the reason behind the whole drama, was left standing alone with a powerless expression, before Robb offered her an elbow.
She accepted it, and the two began making their way back towards their seats.
"Did you see that, people? Did you see?!"
The herald's voice thundered across the field, positively delighted by the drama unfolding before them. "The stakes have been raised even further for the finals! Whoever wins the bout not only becomes the champion of the Tourney, but also gets the favour of the most beautiful maiden in Westeros, the rose of Tyrell."
"Looks like that Lord's not very happy with that announcement."
Gendry pointed towards the Tyrell stands.
A fat lord was standing against the railing, angrily waving his hands while shouting something at the announcer that they couldn't hear, raising a commotion.
"I think... that is Lady Margaery's father, Lord Mace Tyrell." The Baker replied with a finger on his chin.
"That makes sense then." Gendry slowly nodded in understanding, but then his brows furrowed.
'Wait! No, it doesn't.'
"How did he not know about any of this before? About his own daughter?" He turned to his friend, "Is he a fool?"
Because, sure, he too didn't know about the rumours running through the city before today, but that was because he wasn't the kind to socialise, and more importantly, he was not the girl's father.
"Perhaps." Baker scratched his head. "Hm, now that I think about it. I've never really noticed him before at any of Jon's previous matches. Which is weird... because why would he stay away when all the other Lords were here?"
'Maybe he was kept away.'
Gendry thought, as he watched the fat Lord be forced back into his seat by a limping man and a strict old woman who seemed to scare him.
PWAAH!!
A loud, piercing horn tore through the stands as their attention returned to the list where both the contestants had taken their starting positions.
Slowly, the noises from the crowd ebbed away, and even their breathing became suppressed as every eye there went towards the two men on horses.
And then, with an abrupt swish of a red flag—
Clap!
Both the horses blasted off almost simultaneously, charging towards the middle with their lances at rest and their shields to the side.
The tilt was wide, stretching nearly the entire length of the stand from left to right, but even so, the two managed to clear it in merely 10 seconds.
Closer.
Closer.
And then, just moments before they reached the middle, both riders leaned forward, raising their lances to—
Boom!
Both their shields shattered as the lances struck almost simultaneously.
Gendry breathed out and realised that he could hear the roar of the crowd once again.
"RWAAR!!"
The people went wild with cheers.
But Loras and Jon didn't pay any attention to that, and without a moment's rest, recovered their proper position and wheeled their horses, took up fresh lances, and charged again.
And this time, Jon's white horse galloped even faster, its legs barely touching the ground.
"Hit him!"
Gendry didn't realise he'd shouted the words until they were already out of his mouth.
From where he stood, just from the posture, the speed, and the sheer confidence, Jon looked to have the upper hand, and until the very last moment, Gendry was sure of his judgement.
But then...
The lances met.
And then—
Screech!
It bounced off.
He didn't know how, but the Tyrell knight had somehow managed to shift his shield at the last possible moment, and turned a sure-hit, decisive strike into a glancing blow.
The crowd around him groaned at the missed chance, but, once again, they didn't even have the time to feel regret as the riders were already turning at the end of the tilt, taking fresh lances from their squires.
'Does it not hurt?'
Gendry wondered how these two had trained their bodies to absorb hits like that and continue without flinching.
"Once more!" "Once more!" "Once more!"
The crowd rose at once and began screaming and stomping their feet, their tempo growing faster with each shout.
As if mirroring them, Jon shot forward even faster— which Gendry didn't know was even possible.
His horse seemed to devour the ground beneath it, rapidly closing the distance while Loras struggled to match the pace.
"Send him flying!!!" screamed the crowd.
This time, they met not in the centre but halfway to Loras's side.
And on the third pass there was no competition, as Jon's momentum carried his lance forward and struck the very centre of the Tyrell rose on his chest and sent him flying.
"RAAHHH!!"
The crowd went mad with cheers.
But for just a moment...
As somehow Loras Tyrell, with his back almost flat on his horse, managed to stay in the game by locking his legs to the stirrups.
"Are you joking with me?! Are you fucking joking?!!"
The Baker cursed, throwing his hands into the air, and he wasn't the only one, as the crowd had also been caught off guard by the near win.
But unlike them, Jon wasn't shaken in the least by the false victory; in fact, the boy didn't even slow down for a moment.
Not even when the turn came.
He went wide, completed a beautiful arc to reverse his direction, all while maintaining his speed.
And then came the acceleration...
"Is he insane?"
Chills went down Gendry's spine as he saw the Northerner thundering down the list, moving faster and faster, until he was nothing more than a blur.
"What's he doing? No human can control themselves at that speed?"
Gendry couldn't believe that anyone would be this suicidal; at this pace, a single mistake could turn deadly for both him and his opponent, yet Jon was still rushing headlong, picking up speed as if he knew no fear.
"That's what I have been saying!" The Baker screamed in his ear, vibrating with excitement, but Gendry's whole being was focused on the two riders.
Loras took a while to gather himself this time, and by the time he began to build up a little speed, Jon was already there.
His lance was in front of him.
BAM!
Gendry almost didn't see it, even with his eyes wide open, as the two horses thundered past each other.
One second they were there, and in the next the shield shattered into a thousand pieces as Loras was picked clean off his horse.
To the crowd, it felt as if the boy seemed to hang in the air for an eternity before he went crashing into the ground.
The impact made Gendry wince.
But Loras rolled with it, bleeding away enough of the momentum that the crash did not become something worse.
"RAAHHH! RAAAH!!"
The stands erupted in cheers and began jumping in place, their excitement knowing no bounds.
Jon didn't, or perhaps couldn't, slow down until he reached the very end, where he finally controlled his horse down to a comfortable trot.
The broken lance and shield were thrown aside as Jon raised a shaky fist towards the crowd, who responded with screams so loud that they shook the ground.
"SNOW!" "SNOW!" "SNOW!"
Waving along as he went, Jon smiled at the crowd as he slowly made his way back towards where Loras lay on the ground, staring at the sky as if contemplating his life choices.
The Bastard from the North, soon to become a knight, removed his helmet and offered a hand towards the fallen knight, who accepted with a roll of his eyes.
"Look! That squire!"
The girl in front of them squeaked once again, while pointing towards a 10-year-old boy wearing Northern clothes with a white merman on his chest, running into the field towards Jon with a wild grin on his face. "Look at his hand; he's carrying a crown!"
'Does she have the eyes of an eagle?' Gendry wondered as he finally spotted the small wreath made of red roses the boy was bringing to Jon.
"He is going to declare his Queen of Love and Beauty—"
"Gendry!!"
A familiar voice shouted from somewhere behind them.
Both men turned.
Someone was pushing through the crowd towards their seats.
"Bard!"
The Baker waved.
Their missing friend had finally joined them after all this time. "Where have you been, you bastard? You missed everything."
"I got... held... t-the prince... the horse... the queen... crying..."
"What are you talking about?"
Gendry reached out and patted the back of the Bard, who was gasping as if he was on his last breath. "Take a deep breath, and then speak."
"It's the prince," he wheezed out a few moments later, while pointing behind him towards the city. "He's a goner!"
"What?!" Baker jumped as if he was a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and hurriedly covered his mouth. "What are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?!"
"Mmh," The bard removed his hands. "I am not lying," he pressed, eyes wide in disbelief. "I-I mean, I am not sure if he is dead-dead. But he is definitely not in good condition!"
"Be clear. What happened?"
Gendry held back the Baker and stared at Bard with a serious expression, knowing he wouldn't be stupid enough to make such a deadly jest. "How would the prince be hurt with all his guards with him?"
"It was a horse!" He frantically waved his hands. "I guess it was being uncooperative or something, so he brought out a whip, but then—Bam!" he slapped his hands
"The horse went wild; he threw him to the ground and trampled all over him, at least two to three times, before it raced away," he finished with an excited expression, as if he had seen the show of a lifetime.
"Even one of the Kingsguard was not spared, and that one was dead for sure; I heard his neck crack."
"A-And you saw this with your own eyes!"
The Baker had gone pale with shock, and even the people around them were staring at the Bard with dumbfounded expressions.
"I swear on the Seven." He pinched his throat. "That prince! He's at least crippled for life."
Just then, loud whispers began to ring out from the other side of the stands, and all of them turned their eyes to see that the origin of the commotion was none other than the King.
The fat man, who stood even taller than Gendry, was halfway down the platform with a sword in his hand, which he probably intended to use to knight Jon Snow, but he had been interrupted halfway through by a Lannister guard.
They couldn't hear the conversation, but just from their expressions, Gendry could guess the news didn't please him.
The King looked annoyed for a moment before he nodded and handed the sword to Ser Barristan.
After patting the Old Knight on his shoulder, he said a few words, and then took off in the opposite direction, towards the tents where their horses were being kept.
'It can't be true, can it?'
///
Did you like that? If you did, then there's a surprise for you:
Introducing: The Golden Weasley— My new fanfic.
A Ron Weasley SI where the boy just wants to get bloody rich.
Be sure to go check and leave a review if you like it.