As the tournament progressed, the jousting field grew emptier. Those who remained on the lists were all masters of extraordinary skill.
Because there were fewer matches, the morning jousts ended early. With time to spare before the next scheduled events, the field was opened up for free challenges once the formal competition had concluded.
This was a time for informal, entertaining bouts between the main events.
The somewhat serious atmosphere in the air was instantly replaced by a relaxed and expectant curiosity.
Euron Greyjoy, having just secured his advancement, was about to leave when a sudden commotion caught his attention.
A mysterious challenger rode onto the field. His bizarre appearance instantly ignited murmurs throughout the crowd.
The figure was quite small, clad in a suit of mismatched, ill-fitting armor. The plates were mottled, varying in shade, and the connections were crude and askew, as if scavenged hastily from the forgotten corners of some dusty armory.
Most striking was the shield he carried—painted in bright colors was a white weirwood tree, but carved in the center of the trunk was a wide, laughing human face. It was eerie, yet undeniably comical.
Without hesitation, the crowd bestowed upon him the title: "The Knight of the Laughing Tree."
The Knight of the Laughing Tree reined in his horse in the center of the field, showing no fear, and began to call out challenges one by one in a booming voice.
Euron's lips curled slightly. He crossed his arms and stopped, deciding to watch the show before leaving.
The Knight of the Laughing Tree first challenged Sir Donnel Haigh, whose sigil was a black pitchfork on a golden stripe over a russet field.
The challenge was accepted. The two riders charged.
After only a few passes, the Knight of the Laughing Tree's lance struck with nimble precision, and Sir Donnel was unhorsed.
The Knight of the Laughing Tree didn't stop. He turned his lance toward Sir Cameron Braun—whose sigil was two black porcupines on a green field. In just one tilt, Cameron Braun was defeated.
Before the cheers in the stands could die down, the Knight of the Laughing Tree pointed his lance at Sir Tothmure Frey—whose sigil was blue twin towers on silver-white. A few rounds later, Tothmure Frey was sent flying into the dirt.
This Knight of the Laughing Tree was unexpectedly agile, his lance work tricky and precise. He defeated three knights in a row, drawing gasps and cheers from the stands.
According to ancient tradition, the victor had the right to win the loser's horse and armor, and the loser usually had to pay a ransom to redeem them. However, this Knight of the Laughing Tree had no interest in gold. Sitting atop his horse, looking down at the three disgraced knights, his voice sounded muffled through the visor but carried an undeniable authority:
"I do not want your coin." He announced. "I saw your squires in the woods, bullying the weak with numbers. You must go back and discipline your squires. Teach them what true knightly honor is! When you have done that, come back to redeem your gear."
This strange demand first caused an uproar, then a wave of laughter across the arena.
The three knights, humiliated and ashamed under the public gaze, summoned their squires to the fieldside and questioned them sternly.
After confirming the truth, they didn't hesitate to whip their squires publicly, as if all their shame stemmed from these subordinates.
The common folk in the stands treated this unexpected interlude as a marvelous farce, watching with relish as laughter rippled through the crowd.
In the crowd, Howland Reed stared at the field, dumbstruck. That ill-fitting armor was the set he helped find. The comical smiling face on the shield was painted by Lyanna right in front of him. She had laughed then, saying she would "win back his honor." He thought it was just a joke. He never imagined she would actually go through with it—and defeat three knights in a row!
However, amidst the sea of joy, King Aerys II sat on the high seat, his face dark enough to drip water. His eyes, burning with suspicion and rage, fixed dead on the small, comical figure in the field, as if trying to pierce through the ridiculous mask to see the true face hidden beneath.
Prince Rhaegar, however, wore a faint smile. He recognized who had defeated those three knights. More importantly, he recognized the wild, lively, and stubborn eyes behind the visor.
Lyanna Stark!
Though a woman, she displayed extraordinary skill. Her gallant figure on horseback, her pure heart for justice, and her bold, unyielding nature—no less than any man's—struck Rhaegar's heart like an arrow.
He had been hesitant about something, but in this moment, he finally made up his mind.
Euron saw Rhaegar's smile and the change in his expression. He knew Prince Rhaegar had likely deduced the true identity of the Knight of the Laughing Tree.
Just then, the Master of Coin, Qarlton Chelsted, stepped forward and whispered into King Aerys II's ear: "That Knight of the Laughing Tree... it is very likely Jaime Lannister. Surely Jaime is dissatisfied with your decision, so he snuck back, put on a mask, and joined the tourney in this unconventional way. Besides, Tywin left suddenly this morning. Perhaps he is plotting something with Jaime."
Aerys II leaned forward from his throne, his right hand already raised, ready to order the strange knight to be brought forward and unmasked. But before the command could leave his lips, his gaze swept back to the field—and froze. The center of the arena, the focus of everyone's attention just moments ago, was now empty!
The comical "Knight of the Laughing Tree," while everyone was distracted by the farce of the three knights whipping their squires, had quietly turned his horse. Like a ghost blending into the shadows, he rode out of the arena's perimeter without hesitation, vanishing into the endless tents and crowds in the blink of an eye.
He left only a little dust and the lingering noise of the crowd.
This scene was like cold grease thrown onto a fire, instantly detonating the suspicion and rage churning in Aerys II's heart. He slammed his hand on the armrest, veins bulging on his withered hand.
"Rhaegar!" The King's roar drowned out the noise of the venue, his voice shrill and trembling with extreme anger. "Take men and capture that rat who hides his face immediately! I want to see his mask torn off with my own eyes! I want to know if hiding under that mask is Jaime Lannister's arrogant face!"
His cold eyes pinned the Prince in place, every word ground out through his teeth. "If it is truly him... if Tywin's son dares to mock the Crown like this, I will make him—and his entire house—pay a heavy price!"
Rhaegar did not hesitate. He immediately took several of his trusted knights and rode out. Euron Greyjoy narrowed his eyes and slipped silently into the shadows of the crowd, like a seal sliding into deep water, following behind at a discreet distance.
He followed Rhaegar's group straight to the woods outside Harrenhal—the very place where Howland Reed had been bullied by the three squires.
The light in the forest was dappled, the area silent except for the rustle of wind through the leaves.
Soon, they spotted the figure.
Lyanna Stark was standing awkwardly under a tall oak tree, her back to the path, struggling to undo the buckles on the back of that ill-fitting armor. But the crude clasps seemed to be fighting her on purpose. No matter how hard she pulled, they wouldn't budge. She muttered under her breath, exasperated, completely unaware of the approaching footsteps.
Rhaegar raised a hand to stop his followers. He dismounted alone and walked quietly forward.
"Need a hand?" His voice came suddenly, gentle but startling enough to make Lyanna jump.
She spun around, two red blushes instantly flying onto her cheeks like a child caught doing something wrong. Panic flashed in her eyes. She opened her mouth but didn't know what to say.
Rhaegar didn't ask questions. He simply walked naturally behind her, his fingers deftly finding the stubborn buckles. "Hold still," he said softly. There was no blame in his tone, only an indescribable patience. With a few soft clicks, the armor that had troubled her for so long finally loosened.
The heavy breastplate was removed, revealing the various strips of cloth stuffed underneath to fill the space. It looked slightly comical, yet revealed a stubbornness that tugged at the heartstrings.
Lyanna rolled her shoulders, finally free, and let out a sigh of relief. But then she stiffened again, as if remembering her "crime." She lifted her chin, trying to maintain that Stark toughness. "Why are you here?"
Rhaegar smiled. "The King sent me to arrest you. He wants to see what conspiracy hides beneath the mask..."
Lyanna scoffed. "Conspiracy? I just went out and fought a few rounds. I didn't kill anyone or set anything on fire. Why arrest me?"
Rhaegar watched her trying to act calm, amusement flickering in his eyes, though his tone remained even. "Impersonating a knight to compete breaks the rules in itself. Besides, His Grace is very angry. He believes... 'The Knight of the Laughing Tree' is Jaime Lannister, provoking his authority."
He paused, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "If he discovers that the one stirring up this storm and making him paranoid is actually a young lady... I fear it would be more than just a surprise."
Lyanna's courage seemed to fade a little. She looked at Rhaegar, uncertainty appearing in those wolf-like eyes for the first time. "So... are you going to take me back now?"
Rhaegar didn't answer directly. He simply shook his head slowly, then walked over to the oak tree and sat down casually against the trunk, patting the grass beside him.
Dappled sunlight fell on his silver-gold hair. Rhaegar looked up at her, his gaze complex and deep, and began to speak to her in a low voice. His words were soft as a whisper, carried away by the wind. Only Lyanna's gradually softening expression suggested that they were not words of rebuke.
In the distance, hidden behind the bushes, Euron took it all in.
He sighed inwardly, but the corner of his mouth hooked into an inscrutable smile. Then he turned and vanished into the deep woods as silently as he had come, leaving the space entirely to the unexpected pair of conversationalists.
---
More time passed than anyone expected. When Prince Rhaegar finally reappeared at the edge of the tourney grounds, all eyes focused on him.
He returned alone. The small, comical "Knight of the Laughing Tree" was not behind him. Almost at the same moment, the sharp-eyed Euron noticed Lyanna Stark, head bowed, slipping quietly back to her seat from the outskirts of the crowd, as if she had never left.
Lyanna winked at Howland Reed and flashed a victory sign. Seeing Lyanna safe, Howland Reed smiled and let out a long breath.
Rhaegar walked steadily toward the high platform. In his hands, he carried only the mismatched, dusty, ridiculous suit of armor and the shield painted with the laughing weirwood face. The empty shell silently announced the failure of the capture.
He placed the armor before the dais and reported calmly, "Your Grace, I failed to capture the Knight of the Laughing Tree. This person was... exceptionally cunning. They abandoned their armor and fled. I found only these."
King Aerys II's gaze shifted from the scrap metal to his son's impassive face. The silence lasted only a second before it was torn apart by thunderous rage.
"Useless!" The King shot up from the Iron Throne, his body trembling with fury. His roar shattered the brief calm of the entire venue. "You can't even bring back a clown who hides his head and tail?! Are the guards you took just decoration? Or are you simply patronizing your King, your father?!"
His insults lashed out like a whip, striking the stagnant air and the face of every noble present.
Everyone held their breath and lowered their eyes, daring not to look at the King's anger, nor at the Prince's expression.
"A pile of scrap metal!" Aerys kicked the armor, producing a harsh clang. "I want the face under the mask! I want the confession of the shameless rogue! You repay my command with this? Where is your competence? Where is your loyalty?!"
Rhaegar stood amidst his father's wrath, his silver-gold hair moving slightly in the wind. He offered no defense, only bowing his head slightly, enduring the public, humiliating reprimand.
In the stands, Lyanna Stark clenched her fists tightly. She watched the silver-haired figure on the high platform bearing the King's thunderous anger alone. Flames of indignation and injustice burned in her wolf eyes. Every vicious word from Aerys II felt like a lash on her own heart. She wanted nothing more than to rush up there and shut the Mad King up the Northern way.
She could almost imagine pulling out her dagger, storming the dais, and smashing that ridiculous armor into the King's face—but she forced the impulse down, channeling it into fingernails digging painfully into her palms.
At the same time, a scorching shame quietly welled up, dousing some of her anger and making her sit uneasily.
The humiliation Prince Rhaegar was enduring right now stemmed entirely from her willful "game." She had fought for honor, yet she had caused an innocent man to be wronged and bear the consequences for her. This realization filled her with embarrassment. Her cheeks burned, and her earlier righteousness vanished, leaving only a turbulent mix of gratitude, guilt, and immense frustration churning in her chest.