27 The Last Bout

It was nearly noon when the final bout was announced. Ever since her brother's first joust, after which he had handed her his new blade, Sansa had intensely watched him dehorse every one of his opponents. A smirk decorated Griffith's face as he rode out to whoops and cheers. He waved to the nobles decorating the stands, and turning, approached the royal box. "Princess Myrcella, if I might ask for your favour!" A hush washed over the spectators, and Sansa saw Larris Tyrell's face contort in anger. 

Sansa cared for her brother dearly and even saw him as her equal but she knew that tradition and station placed him far below the rest of them. She turned in surprise when she saw the princess get up off her seat, quickly place her favour onto Griffith's lance and return a slight blush on her cheeks. 

"We will now be entering the last bout, on one side we have Larris of house Tyrell squire to his cousin Loras Tyrell and on the other," Griffith hefted his lance and donned his helmet. "Griffith Snow, squire to Jaime of house Lannister."  Both men rode to the end of the list and at the sound of the horn they were off. 

Sansa watched, never blinking, as the two galopted towards each other, their steads hooves sounding like drums. Larris's lance slipped off Griffith's shield, while her brother's shattered against the Tyrell's. He quickly dropped the broken lance and grabbed a new one from his fellow squire. Larris had already begun riding down the lists when Griffith charged towards him, lance ready. 

They were about to collide when Larris stuck out his lance, tripping Griffith's stallion. Both rider and mount hit the ground, hard, and Sansa flinched as she heard a loud crack. Screams and shouts of outrage filled the stands, as Sansa turned to her father, who was now on his feet. He was halfway to the railing when the stands erupted into cheers. 

Sansa quickly stood up and saw Griffith picking himself off the ground, a look of absolute hatred on his face. He looked her dead in the eye and extended a hand, "My sword!" Smiling, she quickly tossed it to him, and without delay, her brother stormed towards Larris. The boy was so preoccupied, celebrating his victory, that it was too late when he finally noticed him. Reaching up, Griffith tore the squire from his horse and wrenched the flowery helmet off. 

The boy seemed dazed, staring up at Griffith, unmoving. Her brother frowned, and dropping the Tyrell, stood. "Get up!" he said, stepping back a few feet and drawing his sabre. Larris shook himself, and standing, drew his sword. He bared his teeth and pointed his blade at Griffith, "I'll make you pay for that, bastard!"

Sansa covered her eyes as she saw Larris lunge forward. She heard a klang, a crunch, and then a thunk followed by silence. 

Nervously, she removed her hands, only to see Larris on the ground, blood gushing from his mouth, above him, Griffith, his blade dripping blood. An eerie silence fell over the tourney grounds, as they watched the young Tyrell boy drowning in his own blood. But Sansa had no mind for him as she focused on her brother, standing there, black hair cascading over his shining armour. He was the epitome of a knight, tall, strong, kind, and above all, good looking.

A loud hearty laugh erupted from behind her, and turning she saw the King on his feet, howling with laughter. "What a spectacle!" He then slapped her father's back, "Your son really knows how to put on a show." "Thank you, your Grace." her father said, looking down at Griffith, frowning.

"Kingslayer!" Robert Baratheon said, turning to Ser Jaime, "Give me your sword!" The knight frowned. but obayed. Taking the blade, the King descended down the stairs and onto the tourney grounds. The crowd had gone silent and Sansa grabbed onto Arya's hand. She felt Lady rub against her leg and felt slightly reassured. Turning to the King, Griffith dropped his sword and fell to one knee. Feeling Arya tighten her grip Sansa squeezed back, her nerves a jumbled mess.

Halting before her brother, the King placed his sword on Griffith's shoulder and loudly proclaimed, "Griffith Snow, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

Raising his head  Griffith shook it, "I apologise, but I must refuse my King, I have not completed the ceremony and so do not know the mother's mercy. Please alow me to prove myself before my knighting.' Snorting in laughter, the King slapped his knee, "Alright boy, then off to the sept with you!" 

Sansa turned to look at her father, who was looking at Griffith with bewilderment. She felt quite the same, why did he abandon his gods for this?