"Thor, here." Came a familiar voice, and I saw Sansa, beautifully dressed, waving her hands to call me.
"Ah, my lady, you shouldn't smile so graciously. What if some lord falls for that charm? The Realm can't withstand another Harrenhal." I said, giving her and the scowling Septa beside her a smile before sitting beside her.
Sansa's face turned bright red. The poor girl failed hard to counter the blush creeping up to her face. It's always fun to tease others, especially beautiful girls.
"Why should I fear anyone? I have a strong, handsome knight to protect me. You'll protect me, right, Ser Thor?" Sansa pushed her blush down and asked with a coy smile. At least she tried to act like a confident young woman. It was cute but not convincing, seeing her barely looking into my eyes before the blush returned.
Maybe she was trying to model after the queen. She's spending an awfully long time with her lately. This kind of makes me worry a little about her.
"I'm no knight. But rest assured, as long as I am here, no harm shall come to you. You have my word." I said with a little smile, to which the girl blushed and put her head down, avoiding my eyes.
I avoided the glare the Septa was throwing at me, Arya on the side sneakily trying to lift Mjolnir and failing hard, and looked away to where both the King and Queen were seated.
But the moment I looked there, both my eyes and Cersei's connected. She was looking directly at me.
I was trying to maintain a low profile, and yet she found me. What is she up to? I tried keeping tabs on her after that day but couldn't find much besides that recently she made a big fuss about something.
"It's been days! Start the damn tourney already before I piss myself!" shouted King Robert, who sat beside her with a cup of wine in his hand, face completely flushed.
I really don't know what these people were thinking, making him the king of all people. I could only blame the Westerosi people and their infatuation with bloodlines. Father, in this case, was correct—most men are retarded.
"..."
Damn, now I'm even calling him my father. Our memories are mixing to the point I can't distinguish between which ones were mine and which were given to me.
Oh well, there is no reason to think about it anymore. I'm Thor now anyway.
Back to Robert—he became the king not because he won the war. He wasn't the only faction in the war, nor was he the one leading the rebellion mainly. He became king because somewhere in the past, his ancestor married a Targaryen, giving him a few drops of dragon's blood, for which people in this continent are ready to bow down and lick his foot.
Ned Stark would have been a better king—not very good at the game and highly vulnerable without much power in the south or alliances for that matter, but a good king nonetheless.
'I wonder if I ever go to the MCU, could I become the king of Asgard?' I couldn't help but muse.
After a long wait, finally, the day of the tourney arrived. My hands felt like itching to crack open some skulls—this was the primal warrior urge inherited by Thor. However, it turns out that the first part of the tourney was jousting.
Upon the king's call, two people came forward. Both were knights who I didn't know, wearing handsome armor and sitting on top of their steeds with long lances in their arms, ready to start jousting.
I had no interest in that. It was nothing but a ridiculous performance for the audience, not a real battle. I didn't even have any memories of Thor doing jousting. Fortune was on my side that I wasn't in this part of the tournament. Earlier, I said I was taking part in jousting to Ser Hugh just because I wanted to grab his attention, but no, I wouldn't have done it even if that fat king ordered me to do it.
As for Ser Hugh, my friend wasn't part of this tourney after hearing my potent advice about the potential danger to his life. There are people already looking for him in King's Landing. Surely Cersei didn't want to leave behind loose ends after knowing Ned Stark was digging into the credibility of her children.
I told that fool not to expose himself, but Honorable Eddard Stark doesn't fear anything. He went behind my back and let Cersei know what he was up to. Now he was a target.
I had Hugh hidden for the time being. I can't say whether the Mountain killing Hugh in the show was an accident or a planned assassination, but I didn't want to take any chances. I still have a use for my friend after all.
As I thought about Cersei, I slowly tilted my head to see she was still looking in my direction. Odin knows what was going on inside the head of that vile woman now.
Seduction didn't work on me, so what's she gonna do next, huh?
While I was distracted, the first jousting match ended. One of the knights was dismounted on the first run. I still don't see the appeal of these games, but hearing the claps from others, I'd say this world seriously needs some entertainment options.
A new pair of knights came forward, and finally, I knew this one. A man in white armor rode on his horse, holding a red rose, which he carried all the way towards us and gave to Sansa.
'Flower Knight.' That's what they call them here, a term mostly used for knights who have never seen real war and mostly show off. This identity has long been attached to the knights of the Reach.
The man gave me a look. I couldn't recall who this person was, but I saw him staring at me a little longer than I was comfortable with before he turned back.
"What is that?" Arya suddenly pointed in the other direction. I saw a big man riding a horse in complete black armor. He was big, even bigger than me, and I was 6'2".
He looked almost 7'.
"That's Ser Gregor Clegane, also known as the Mountain Who Rides." A voice came from the side, and then I saw one of the most dangerous men in this game.
"Peter Bael—"
"Why do they call you Littlefinger?" Arya was faster to address him.
"Arya..." Both Sansa and the Septa chided. "Don't be rude."
"I don't mind at all. I was very small when I was a child, and I came from a small place called the Fingers. So, you see, it's an exceedingly clear nickname," Baelish addressed.
"It's even more remarkable that you raised your station despite your birth," I said, drawing his attention away from both Sansa and Arya.
This man was one of the most dangerous players of the game, so much so that I wouldn't mind killing him even if I had no other reason besides saving myself from the future chaos he could bring.
"Ah, you must be Thor. It's a pleasure."
I just returned the greeting and then avoided him. He reminded me too much of Loki.
I heard Littlefinger explaining how the Flower Knight, whose name was Loras Tyrell, was cheating. His steed was a mare and in heat. It was affecting Gregor's horse.
"I don't quite remember this small bit of information from the show, but I do remember the Tyrell name. Margaery Tyrell was his little sister.
'Interesting.'
The first and second runs both were not good for the Mountain. His horse was giving him trouble, and on the last run, Loras was dismounted him.
In anger, Gregor cut open his own horse's neck.
'Power without restraint… not a warrior but a berserker.' I just shook my head. I knew he was despicable, but losing control of his own emotions like this in the open was too much.
But then something even more ridiculous happened. He went on to attack Loras.
The crowd started to make noise and shout for help—someone to save Loras.
I remember this from the TV show. Shouldn't Sandor be here to…
…Oh.
xxx
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