Chapter Text
Willas Tyrell’s first tourney was a momentous occasion. Not only for the recently of age young man but for the Reach as well. House Tyrell and the Reach were celebrating Lord Mace Tyrell’s nameday. Most of the noble houses who owed loyalty to the Tyrells and several from surrounding kingdoms had converged on Highgarden to celebrate.
In addition to the usual feast, a tourney had been called. Not an uncommon event, though Willas thinks his new status as a knight may have something to do with it. At the age of six and ten Willas, the heir to the Reach, was the pride of Lord Mace and his wife Lady Alerie. Having spent years preparing for this event, Willas Tyrell was about to enter his first list as a knight.
Lord Mace has commissioned a new set of armor for Willas. He and a squire spent the better part of the day before the tourney polishing it to a shine. With Willas joking that he intended to blind his opponents with the suits luster. He did have to admit that combined with the surcoat emblazoned with his sigil as heir the suit is rather good looking.
After seeing to his horse one last time for the day Willas retired to the library after supper. The library had always been one of his favorite places to spend time in. Books from all of Westeros and even some from across the sea in Essos, maps and charts of the varying lands of the Reach and beyond and the prized family records of House Tyrell line every shelf nook and cranny of the room. As a young boy he would often spend time in this room reading whatever caught his fancy. Even during his training and schooling he still found time to spend there.
It is in the library that his mother found him, reading an account of the tourney at Ashford Meadow, toward the back in his favorite chair. “You always did love the library.” She said sitting down by Willas. “You spent a lot of time here during the rebellion.” Willas nods. While he may not have known all of the intricacies around the war he distinctly remembered that year as being full of fear and uncertainty for his father. Lady Alerie looked at her oldest son for a moment. “It’s strange to think that the little boy who used to read about birds is now a knight.” “I still read about birds.” Willas replied in his defense.
The two sat in silence for a moment. Willas suspected his mother wanted to voice her displeasure with his entering the list. She had never made known such opinions out loud but was always reserved with anything pertaining to his training as a knight. She was the opposite of his grandmother, who had taken up reminding Lord Mace about his own father’s accident on a horse.
“I don’t think I’ll enter many of these.” Willas said breaking the silence. “I think being knighted, taking part in a few tourneys will be enough to satisfy father.” Willas placed the book he was reading down. “Who knows maybe if I win that will be the end of it. Or he could get ideas of glory. I’m not quite sure yet.”
To his surprise his mother chuckled slightly. “Have you considered who you would name your queen of love and beauty?” Now it was Willas turn to laugh. “I don’t think there is much to worry about there.” “But should I find myself in that position, I was thinking…” Willas paused smirking for a second. “of naming Margaery.” “It wouldn’t offend our bannermen by favoring one of their daughters over another and most importantly Margaery can brag to everyone who will listen that she is the queen of love and beauty. You know how she loves attention.” He ended with a smirk.
“She would like that.” His mother said standing up. “Do not stay up much later; you have a big day tomorrow.” With that Lady Tyrell left the room.
Willas went to his room not long after, still nervous but finally tired enough to try and sleep.
Willas entered into tent that served as the waiting area for the joust competitors. There was a mix of seasoned and new knights. Most of the veterans hailed from outside the Reach. Upon finding the official list he was intrigued. It would seem he is going up against a Dornishman. He does not know Oberyn well, having only been in the same room with the man once before and never having spoken to him. The Red Viper’s reputation is interesting to say the least he knows. Still it would be an honor for house Tyrell if Willas unseats a Martell. There is no love between the Reach and Dorne after all.
Willas left in search of his squire and horse. The crowd roared with applause when a rider was knocked from his horse to the ground on the list. Taking a breath and seeking to calm himself Willas continued to the stables. He’s never enjoyed crowds or attention and this is the most number of people Highgarden has hosted in some time. Willas knows he will be glad to have things return to normal when they all leave. He’s not been able to spend as much time in the rookery as he’d like. Perhaps a solitary hunt after the tourney would be nice.
At the stables his horse is calm and composed. The opposite of what Willas was feeling. Willas helped his squire mount the green and gold caparison onto his horse. “Who is your first opponent.” His squire asked. “Obyrn Martell. He’s a renowned horseman.” Willas smooths out the fabric on his horse. “All the better to start your own tales of glory and honor then Ser Willas.” Willas laughs “Always the optimist Cedrick always the optimist.”
A head poked around the stable door. “There almost ready for you my lord.” Turning to look at his squire Willas expeled his breath. “Well, help me mount would you Cedrick.” Cedrick helped Willas onto his horse and then takes the reins to lead him out toward the list.
A new chorus of cheers erupted when Willas enters the list. Taking the reins himself he approached the raised podium that seats the members of his family in the center of the crowd. Lord Tyrell beamed with pride as his son approached. His brothers and sister looked happy to see him. Lady Tyrell even seemed pleased to see her son in the tourney. Also approaching the center was Obyrn Martell atop his own proud looking steed.
“My Lord, My Lady.” Obyrn greets the guest of honor. Willas raises an eyebrow when Obyrns’ horse bows slightly as the man smirks, not unkindly, at Willas. “Yes, yes, always showing off Martell.” Lord Mace exclaimed as he climbed from his seat.
Willas turns his mount toward the end of the list were Cedrick waits with his lance and shield. As he is being passed his lance the crowd starts to get even louder. It is somewhat unnerving. Willas, The Reach, Highgarden. Some of what the crowd is shouting reaches his ears. Instead of comfort he feels the expectations of the many fall on him.
For a moment he feels more a boy playing than the image of knighthood he is portraying as he moves his horse into position. Obyrn looks smaller at the other end of the list; but that will change soon.
The signal is given and Willas urges his horse into a gallop as he races down the side of the list at the same time Obyrn is doing the same. At fifteen yards Willas lowers his lance and aims for Obyrn’s left shoulder. The noise from the crowd is such that he can no longer hear the hoof beat of his horse.
He just misses his mark, but so does his opponent as their horses rush past each other.
After bringing his horse to a halt he turns around to set up for a second pass. The initial nervousness has past. Instead he is smiling. Willas feels confident and ready for the next run. He can do this, he knows he can. He felt the lance just grazed the top of Obyrn’s armor. A little lower and he will have the Dornishman dismounted. He calls for a fresh lance and feels the excitement build up even more as his squire rushes forward lance in hand.
“I got him. Just the top of his shoulder. But I had him Cedrick.” He nearly yelled at his approaching squire.
“Aye ser. Bring him down with this next pass.”
This time Willas sets off his mark with vigor. Again at fifteen yards to go between them he lowers the lance. Adjusting it slightly lower this time. He knows he will hit his mark.
As he leaned further into the blow he is shocked when the next thing he sees is not Obyrn falling or even rushing past him like before but the sky instead. For a split moment he was confused. Only to realize he was falling backward off his horse. His right foot catches violently on the stirrup. He horse whinnies as the weight of his armor brought it down to the ground with him.
The horse lands on Willas’s right leg pinning it at the knee to the ground. The armor he is encased in is meant to deflect blows, not support the weight of a horse. His knee is driven into the ground and crushed.
The next thing Willas knows is he is screaming in agony. The sounds reverberated around in his helmet. He tried to push the horse away but it was having difficulty getting up. He feared it will roll atop and crush him.
People are rushing to his side. One gathers the horse and takes it away while Cedrick works to wretch the helmet from Willas’s head. It is not an easy task as Willas as thrashing back and forth attempting to get away from the pain. He soon stops figuring out that any more moment hurts more than it helps.
The crowd was quieter now; the loudest noise coming from Willas.
The only reason Willas stops’ screaming is because he has to breathe. Someone is calling for a maester. “Please try not to move ser.” Cedrick says as he puts a hand on Willas’s shoulder to push him back into a prone position. Willas grits his teeth and tries not to scream again. Instead tears build up in his eyes threatening to spill over. “By the seven it hurts.” He manages to blurt out. “I know ser. Look the maester is coming over. We’ll fix you right up.” Cedrick responds, though he does not sound too confident.
Maester Lomy’s makes it to Willas. “Here my boy lay still.” Willas puts his head back and concentrates on breathing in and out. He can’t suppress the groan when the maester moves his leg. Lomy’s turns to some men standing near “Bring a stretcher.” Looking back at Willas he says “Can you move your leg any?”
“Yes, but it hurts to try.” His eyes screwed shut against the pain of it all.
“Good, your leg joint should still be in place then.”
Willas wanted to laugh at calling anything about his current situation good.
The stretcher arrived and is placed next to him. Lomy’s instructed the men to move Willas onto the stretcher. This time he does not hold back a pained yell as they move his right leg.
Willas would have thought that being carried by others would not be so painful. But he feels every uneven step the stretcher bearers take. Or more accurately his leg feels every misstep. Once they make it to his own chambers there is another painful transfer onto his bed.
They are able to remove all of his armor from his waist up and some from his left leg. His right is another problem however. They are just about to try again when Lord Tyrell burst through the doors. “What are you doing to my son?” “I am presently seeing to your son’s injuries my lord. I have not been able to examine his leg yet, but the rest of him seems in working order. Apart from some bruising and cuts.”
Maester Lomy’s pulls out a vial from his bag that had been brought up and pours some into a cup. “Here drink this, it's milk of the poppy, and we’ll get the rest of this armor off so I can look at your leg.”
Willas eyes the cup with suspicion. “Drink. I assure you it will help the pain. You will probably sleep through my examination.”
“I’ve heard it addles the mind.”
“Temporarily, yes. There are no long term effects. Provided you take it only when needed.”
“Very well.” Willas takes the cup and swirls the contents for a second before tipping his head back and pouring the contents down his throat. It had a chalky consistency and a strange taste. He hands the cup back to the Maester and laid down. Soon he started to feel his mind slip from him and he felt himself falling backwards into unconsciousness.
Maester Lomys finished putting away his supplies and exited Willas’s room into the solar. The entire Tyrell family had taken up every available couch and chair in the room. Garlan and Loras were starring solemn faced into the fire. Margery was sitting by her mother on one of couches. Lady Olenna sits looking bored in a large arm chair. Lord Mace turns around from where his was pacing the room.
“Well, how is he.”
“Your son is still asleep. And should remain so for the rest of the day. He should awaken sometime tomorrow. It is only his left leg that was injured. I am afraid his knee has been crushed however. Thankfully neither of his leg bones were broken. Though his ankle was sprained. Most likely when it caught his horse.”
“But will he recover?”
“He will never walk unassisted again. Other than that he will return to man he was before this. There was no blow to the head if that is what you are concerned of.”
“Will he…. Will he father children?” Lord Tyrell finally asked after some strained silence.
“Should he choose too.”
Lord Tyrell ran his fingers through his hair. “Thank you Maester Lomy’s.” The maester bowed and left saying he would be back to check on Willas in the night and that it was alright for the family to visit their son and brother.
“You are an oaf. An oaf Mace.” Lady Onlenna scolded from her chair thumping her cane on the floor. “He is your heir. What kind of a fool nearly gets his heir killed, hmm?”
“He isn’t dead. And besides I have other sons.” Lord Mace blinked then shut his eyes for a second. Had he really said that? “That… that’s not how I meant it.” He stuttered as his wife glared at him.
“Come Margery.” She said as she stood. “Garlan. Loras. Let’s visit Willas for a moment.”
Lady Olenna stood as well. “Men” she said. “Obsessed with your horses and swords.” With one last shake of her head she left the room for her own leaving her son alone.
When Willas awoke he felt groggy and a little confused before everything from the day before came back to his mind. Looking over to the large windows that afforded him a grand view of some of the gardens he spotted his mother looking out the same windows.
“Mother?” he croaked.
The woman turned to her son a small smile on her face. “Willas, good morning. Thank the gods you’ve awoken. How do you feel?”
“A bit thirsty actually.”
Lady Alerie walked over to a pitcher next the bed and poured a cup of water before handing it to her son.
Willas struggled a bit not to move his leg too much as he pushed himself up to drink.
When he had finished some of the water he laid his head back down, surprised at how much strength it took to do such a simple task.
As his head touched the pillow his stomach churned. Turning his head quickly he vomited the remains of his last meal as well as the water he had just drank. Perhaps sitting up was not a great idea at the moment. His head pounded in his ears as he tried to ignore the nausea.
Lady Tyrell looked at her son worriedly before she called for a servant to help clean him up.
The maester arrived and asked if he could examine Willas’s leg once again.
The heir to Highgarden found himself speaking before he could think. “Am I going to lose it?”
“No. You have no cuts or wounds on your leg. No chance of infection. You will not lose your leg Lord Willas.”
Relief washed over Willas at the maester’s words.
“I’ll walk then? Be able to ride again?”
“The riding I do not know. Walking? Yes. Though we shall see how well your knee heals.”
Lomys pulled the covers back over Willas’s leg.
“You will need some form of assistance though. At the moment I cannot tell. A brace or a cane may suite you. Or you may need crutches. It’s still too early to tell. And I don’t want you up on this leg until I say you are to be. Understood?” The maester held his finger up.
Willas nodded in agreement. He had no intention of doing anything other than what Maester Lomys said. He could not lose his leg. The thought terrified him.
“Now, would you like something for the pain?”
Wills put a hand up. “No.” He said. “I’ve had enough of that.”
“Then I will let you rest my lord, my lady.” The older man bowed to Willas and his mother and left them alone.
“Your brothers and sister will be glad to know you’re awake. Margaery has been in the sept since breakfast.”
“Margaery saw the whole thing? Please tell me she did not see me….”
His mother did not respond.
Closing his eyes Willas breathed out only to feel his mother’s hand on his face. Willas leaned into the comfort of his mother just as he would as a boy.
“She is alright Willas. So is everyone else. Would you like me to greet her for you?”
Willas shook his head. “No.” He said softly. “I’m.. I’m tired mother.”
Lady Tyrell crossed to the door of Willas’s bed chamber before turning and wishing him a restful sleep.
Willas looked back out to the window. He was the heir of house Tyrell, and he had been defeated by a Martell. Not only was he unseated, but his leg was crushed. A broken man for an heir. What must their bannermen think now? A knight who couldn’t even win one joust. He didn’t feel worthy to call himself a knight with his terrible showing in the list. As Willas closed his eyes again one thought echoed in his mind.
Broken, he was broken.
By the time Willas’s leg healed and he was allowed to walk with the support of crutches he was dreadfully tired of looking at the walls of his chambers. Willas has his ups and downs learning to move with the extra support. Somedays he is fine, enjoying the ability to once again move upright and try to resume his duties as heir of Highgarden. Other days he finds himself wanting nothing more than to throw the crutches down and run freely as he used too as a boy with his brothers.
During the months leading up to his accident Willas knows his father has been considering potential brides from the different families of the Reach. This changed after the accident in the joust. He knew the Merryweathers would accept a match, if they had any unwed daughters near his age. They had been hard pressed to recover their previous wealth lost when the Mad King exiled them. However several houses with daughters of marriageable age had discreetly turned down Mace Tyrell’s offers. The reasoning ranging from their daughter or sister was too young to begin accepting suits to they had received an offer to negotiate for the young woman’s hand before the Tyrells came along.
Historically the Tyrells married into houses within the Reach. This was due, Willas knew, to the somewhat unstable claim the house had to being lords of the Reach. House Tyrell had never been kings in their own right, merely stewards of Highgarden before the conquest of Aegon. Other houses, such as the Florients, would bring this fact up from time to time. Though no one had yet to dare attempt to overthrow their liege lords. Still the members of house Tyrell found it prudent to secure alliances with the noble families of the Reach and for years had been intermarrying with them.
With this in mind Willas had always thought that one of these houses, or if lucky several, would be willing to allow him to court their daughter or sister.
Several years passed and Willas was now approaching his two-and-twenty name day. His brother Garlan had recently married lady Leonette Fossoway and the two were on a post wedding tour of the lands surrounding Highgarden before returning to their new home there.
During the time leading up to the wedding Willas found himself becoming even more taciturn than usual around others. A quiet man by nature, much like his mother, he was only open the most with family members. The marriage of a second son before the heir felt in many ways as another indictment of his suitability in the eyes of the Tyrell bannermen.
Willas did not want to admit it but he was a jealous man. His brothers had taken well to knighthood. Garlan was far better at the melee than he could ever dream to be and Loras was the best horseman of the trio. Like most things about him, it burned quietly inside most of the time. With both of his brothers gone from Highgarden he felt a slight reprieve. Only to feel ashamed at his own feelings.
Leaving the small private sept the members of house Tyrell used in the gardens, not the large ornate one in the castle complex, Willas came across his mother.
“Willas,” Lady Tyrell called to him. “The gardeners have put in a new selection of white roses not far from here. Would you care to view them with me?”
“Certainly mother.”
The two Tyrells made their way through the myriad of flowers, most of which had been in bloom recently. Their fragrance filling the late morning air.
When they arrived Lady Tyrell examined the flowers before turning to her son.
“You’ve been a little… short with your brother and his lady wife recently. For that matter you’ve been short with all of us recently.”
Willas looked down at the gravel path sheepishly.
“All I ask is that you be the young man I know you are once again. She is your sister now and you should treat her just as you would Margaery. Being short with her, for something that is not her own doing, is not the way the Willas I know would act.”
“You know I only wish Garlan and Leonette the best mother.”
“I do, you should also act the best for them as well.” Alerie knew her son’s source of pain, though he thought it was something he hid well. Being without a wife weighed on him, the reasoning by which most of his offers were denied heightened the pain.
Willas nodded and smiled ruefully at his mother.
“You’re never going to stop correcting me are you?”
“Only when you need it.” Came her half serious, half teasing reply.