Daemon was disappointed to learn three of the suitors had already left Dragonstone. His wife had told him that Baldric Selmy, Medrick Manderly, and Kevan Lefford had gone to King's Landing, and they were now replaced with Hamish Arryn, Alan Beesbury, and Forrest Frey.
After a warm welcome from Laena and Rhaenyra, he was in the mood to see if these young whelps were worthy of joining his house. He didn't particularly care who his snake of a niece was wed to, but certain appearances had to be maintained. He was also frustrated with how dull the Stepstones were now. Construction was well on its way, but you could hardly call it civilization. The anticipated potential raids from the Triarchy or Dorne, that he would have to handle, never materialized. In short, he had been quite bored.
He went into the yard in near full armor, and two of the would-be suitors had followed his instructions. Joffrey Lonmouth was there as Master-at-arms. Daemon thought it idiotic to have a crippled man in such a role, but Rhaenyra was too soft-hearted to object to her husband's wishes on the matter. Today there would be no tourney swords; he would have these suitors prove their mettle with live steel. He saw Rhaenyra watching alongside his wife. Ser Lorent Marbrand was standing protectively nearby, but far enough away so that the two women would not be overheard.
Hamish Arryn was not in armor at all. Instead he wore feasting clothes with a tabard displaying the symbol of his house.
"Why are you not armored?" Daemon demanded.
"I will not be sparring with you, my prince."
Daemon frowned. "Are you craven?"
"Not as such, I simply know that the value Elaena places on me has little and less to do with my skill in arms."
Daemon stared at the youth. "Find a squire and get in your armor. That is a royal command."
"No, Prince Daemon. I am a guest here on Princess Elaena's invitation. Lord of the Stepstones you may be, brother to the King you may be, but your writ does not extend to commanding me." Hamish's eyes were still and no sense of tension was on display. It was as if he was explaining the price of grain.
Daemon loomed over him. "Do you really wish to make an enemy of me?"
"I assumed your distaste for me before we ever met, Prince Daemon. All the Vale remembers your statements."
Daemon grew less menacing as he recalled the various insults he had hurled toward 'the bronze bitch' he had married in what seemed a lifetime ago. It seemed the nobility there had long memories.
Tired of being defied, he called Hamish a craven one last time and turned to the others.
"Do you two have more courage than this one?"
Forrest was frowning at Daemon. "I'll face you in the ring."
Alan nodded hesitantly, "As will I."
Sensing weakness, Daemon selected Beesbury to go first. Alan wore plate armor that was not quite as fitting as it should be. He had not come to Dragonstone in his personal armor, so instead, he had found a set from a knight of similar size on Dragonstone to wear. Poorly fitted armor made battle more difficult, it changed one's center of balance, and more. He was equipped with a sword in one hand and a steel shield in the other.
The match began, and Dark Sister lashed out at the younger man. Beesbury blocked the first blow, but poorly, which allowed Daemon to strike two more times, causing small tears in the armor where Dark Sister cut into castle-forged steel. Alan brought his shield around, and Daemon harmed it a few times with overhand blows. Alan angled his shield up, which protected him, but also obscured his vision. Daemon lifted his leg and delivered a hard front kick to the shield.
The young knight lost his balance completely and fell back to the ground. He struggled to rise as Daemon prowled around him.
Pathetic.
No sooner had Alan got to his feet than Daemon began another whirlwind of blows. Alan desperately tried to counter, but Daemon was too quick and too experienced to let even a single blow land.
"Is that all? Who taught you to fight? When next you see my brother, Viserys 'the Peaceful,' go down on bended knee and thank him for his peaceable policies. If you ever fought in a war, you would be dead during the opening charge!"
Daemon ended his statement with a particularly vicious horizontal slice to the helm. The blade bit partially into the helm, nearly making it through the metal. Alan collapsed to the ground, and Joffrey was shouting.
"Enough! Someone, fetch the Maester!"
"He's fine, Lonmouth, see he is already stirring. I know how deep Dark Sister could cut and made sure it wouldn't take his head." Daemon smoothly lied. He had been surprised at how deep it had struck, the blow was likely harder than it should have been for a spar with live steel, but no one else needed to know that.
Daemon looked up at the short wall around the training yard. Laena and Rhaenyra were in animated conversation but it was too far away to be overheard.
Maester Gerardys was quite near and stated that Alan had suffered a painful head blow and that while those could be dangerous, he saw no immediate cause for concern as the Beesbury lad was lucid and could move all his limbs well.
Joffrey turned to Forrest. "Are you sure you wish to fight after that?"
"I do." Forrest replied simply and lowered his visor.
Daemon sized his opponent up. Like Daemon, Forrest did not have a shield. Instead of a sword, he had a poleaxe. They circled for a moment and then Forrest lunged forward with surprising swiftness. Daemon took a step back to avoid the strike and then kept circling, Dark Sister sang out and the Frey blocked the blade and tried to entangle it. Daemon moved too quickly and, in less time than it took a heart to beat, his blade was free and arcing toward Forrest.
Forrest turned his body and stepped into the blow, allowing his pauldron to take the brunt of it in order for him to jab at Daemon's head with the spiked tip. Daemon had to dodge to the side and lost his footing for a moment. His opponent tried to capitalize, but was too slow and they began to dance back and forth.
Forrest was better than Alan but Daemon had his number. The use of the poleaxe was a marvel to observe, always moving to create a combination of defense into an attack, or an attack, into a defense. The boy grew more and more bold as the fight wore on, so Daemon decided to disabuse him of the idea that he was in any way a match for him.
"A good attempt, Frey." Daemon said with mild derision and then launched himself forward as soon as the utterance was complete.
Dark Sister sliced through the space between them in a potentially lethal blow right toward the slight gap in the neck area of Forrest's armor. The blow had to be dodged or blocked, and Forrest's reflexes made it a block. The sheer force of Daemon's attack knocked the poleaxe into his foe's armor. Crowding into Forrest the rapid pommel strike delivered to the helm next was vicious. Daemon followed it up with a diagonal slash into the side of the Frey heir's knee.
A grunt of pain echoed across the yard as the knee buckled. Even then Daemon was moving, again sending his Valyrian steel blade down in an overhand strike to the shoulder. Forrest's reflexes allowed him to get his weapon in position to partially block, even as he was falling to the ground. No strength was behind the block and tremendous force from the blow fully crashed him into the ground.
Daemon stomped on the gauntleted hand still holding the poleaxe and raised his shimmering blade again.
"Enough! I said enough!" Joffrey angrily demanded.
Daemon was done. He called over a squire to help remove his armor as the Maester examined the Riverlands noble. Again, Gerardys diagnosed no likely lasting injury, though the knee would be bruised and some damage to the cartilage could take some time to heal. The wrist within the gauntlet was sprained as well. Likely some bruising on the shoulder but the gambeson had prevented the clavicle from being broken.
Now removed from his armor, he walked over to Rhaenyra and Laena. Laena shook her head, "Must you be so rough?"
"Yes. If they wish to wed into our house, they can't be embarrassing us."
Rhaenyra's look of ill-disguised excitement warred with her words. "They have not seen war; you can't expect them to withstand the Rogue Prince without getting hurt. You must be careful with them."
Daemon smirked. "I thought I was. Ah well, perhaps the Stormlander will give me more trouble. I intend to fly to King's Landing and put them through their paces as well."
Rhaenyra caught his eye. "That will have to wait for at least one more day, as we must properly congratulate today's victor."
Daemon allowed himself to be led away. Steel used in battle, even faux, and then a lovely evening with two Targaryen-blooded women was the perfect return to Dragonstone.
***
Viserys was intrigued by each of the candidates his daughter had put forward for consideration. He had been particularly impressed with Ser Medrick, a man with a noble reputation for gallantry. Viserys could easily envision him as a worthy partner for his daughter. They had dined together and discussed a variety of subjects, and it was clear that the knight would cherish his daughter if he were selected.
Lord Selmy, on the other hand, was a bit different. The man harbored a deep-seated hatred for the Dornish. While his size and skill at arms were impressive, Viserys found it hard to believe that his daughter would be happy with someone so singularly focused. His wife's concern about using Viktoriya as a war dragon, even just as a scout, was shared by him. Elaena might have a stubborn will and a steel spine, but imagining her flying a dragon against a Dornish raiding party was inconceivable.
He is not the one for Elaena.
Viserys knew that Elaena would listen to his thoughts and take them under advisement, but that did not mean she would heed them. He hoped that she would, given his age-gained wisdom, but he would not force the issue. Thus far, she had been quite tight-lipped about whom she favored among the six.
Ser Kevan Lefford was announced by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. The younger man then entered the room and bowed.
"Your Grace."
"Be welcome, ser. The serving staff has just brought in the food. The fare isn't as hearty as you might be used to, but my daughter says these meals will help keep aches away." Viserys smiled. "In truth, it isn't so bad, and she was correct. My daughter has a fine mind. Had she been born a boy, I suspect she would have joined the Citadel!"
Kevan responded with a light chuckle. "No doubt. Princess Elaena's thoughts run deep, and I fear I have but scratched the surface."
"Oh?" Viserys inquired.
"At the Tooth, on her second visit, we were able to speak more at length on certain subjects. Her ideas on how to improve the efficiency of the Seven Kingdoms are fascinating. What is equally of interest, is how she examines an issue from all sides, and considers what the ramifications of a policy would be. She uses the term 'stakeholder' to describe the people who are impacted, or have a stake in a decision."
Viserys recalled that Elaena had used the term with him at some point. Given how well she worked with his good friend Otto, it did not surprise him that she put considerable forethought into her advice. Equally important to Viserys was how she engaged in those discussions. Unlike Rhaenys, who also gave good counsel but often overstepped, Elaena was respectful in her approach. If his cousin thought something was foolish, she said so bluntly, which had caused some strife. While Otto had no complaints about his work with Elaena, he had plenty regarding Rhaenys.
"I would gladly extoll the virtues of my daughter with any, but that is not why you are here, Ser Kevan. In her wisdom, she has asked her family to share their thoughts on who she should wed. To that end, tell me, what makes you worthy?"
Kevan took a bite of the lightly-sauced chicken, pausing to gather his thoughts before responding.
"Your Grace, there are several reasons. I spring from a noble lineage, and my house possesses considerable wealth. Wealth that, in the hands of someone like Elaena, could be used to great effect. I share her views on the development of Westeros and would be well satisfied to see her expand the fortunes of my house and those who serve it."
Viserys found himself nodding along as Kevan advocated for himself.
"My father yet lives, which means I am not always needed at Golden Tooth. We can reside in King's Landing, and remain close to the family she so obviously cherishes."
A very good point, and another against Baldric.
"What would you do here in King's Landing?"
"Assist Elaena with the Dragon Bank. Hopefully, if the Gods are good, provide you with more grandchildren."
Viserys could tell Kevan was comfortable speaking with him, despite that he was the father of the woman he wished to marry, and the King. That sort of confidence was important and needed if he was to survive the court of King's Landing. He oft wished the vicious gossip and barbed words were not so readily exchanged. Still, he wished to see how far Kevan would be willing to go.
"And if I had another task in mind? Perhaps serving as an officer in City Watch? Or being appointed as a harbormaster?"
"Any task you ask of me, I would gladly do. Though I know little of the sea, I am an apt pupil."
Viserys liked his answers. It bordered on arrogance, but the delivery was humble even if the words were not. There existed only one issue that bothered him.
"Your house is sworn to the Lannisters. As you know, the royal family was insulted by the tawdry treatment of my daughter by your overlord. While your own house's conduct has shown a gratifyingly sharp contrast, the issue remains. Why should the crown support a marriage to a Westerlands noble after such behavior?"
Kevan nodded. "A good question, Your Grace. If I make speak plainly?"
Viserys gestured broadly with his hand, "Please."
"Jason Lannister is an overweening fool. He harbors resentment at not being able to wed your eldest daughter. The Westerlands has long known his habit for grudge bearing, but few thought he was foolish enough to press the issue with his shoddy treatment of Princess Elaena. It was petty, and just like a Lannister. To answer your question, we are sworn to Lannister, but we are sworn first and foremost to the crown."
Kevan frowned and took a breath as he looked Viserys in the eye.
"I can think of no better comeuppance for such obscene pride, than to permanently make the Lannister house, despite their Paramountcy, the second most important family in the Westerlands. Elaena has a dragon. Elaena advises the King and Hand. Elaena helped create the unprecedent success of the Dragon Bank. Elaena bestows victors with knighthood. It would gnaw at Jason till the end of his days."
Viserys felt his features give way to a grin. He liked this one.
***
Hamish had been invited to dine privately with Rhaenyra and Laenor. He knew that Forrest and Alan had separate invitations for later in the week, giving them more time to recover from their injuries. While Hamish had made the right decision, it was unlikely to endear him to the heir and her infamously martial husband.
The cheerful way Princess Rhaenyra had congratulated Daemon afterward was a bit off-putting. The very idea of using steel, let alone Valyrian steel, had been grossly negligent. Yes, wounds could occur in sparring, but adding unnecessary risk for the mere amusement of the Rogue Prince was the height of foolishness. Hamish was very glad Elaena was nothing like this.
Laenor had not been present to witness the sparring, but his reputation for savagery from the wars in the Stepstones was well-known. Hamish doubted that his refusal to fight Daemon would be viewed positively. However, he took solace in the knowledge that Elaena would consider his decision wise.
"Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Laenor, thank you for having me."
"The pleasure is ours, Hamish." Rhaenyra replied with a smile.
Laenor gave him a nod. "Sit and partake, we are quite curious about you."
Hamish was slightly surprised by the warm welcome. As soon as he sat down, the questions began. Rhaenyra inquired about the Vale, and Hamish provided more information than he normally would. He knew it would help his cause to be seen as knowledgeable.
"I understand you chose not to test your mettle against Daemon." Laenor gave him a smile, "I don't find fault with it, but I am curious, most nobles do take up arms and earn their knighthood. You seem to not have an interest in it."
Hamish nodded. "That's correct. I have no desire to be in battle. My uncle values me for my mind, and I hope to make the case to Princess Elaena that it's worth something." He chuckled softly. "Though, given how she now trounces me in Cyvasse, I may have overestimated myself."
Rhaenyra finished her morsel of buttered cod and cleared her throat. "I must admit, you may have a point. My sister attends jousts and melees, but never seems to care too much of their outcome. I've come to the realization that her tastes are not mine. Personally, I want a man who can be a protector, a valiant knight, and a symbol of strength."
Rhaenyra patted Laenor's hand, who gave her a strained smile.
It isn't a secret that he's a sword-swallower, is this show of affection to try to paint their relationship as different than the rumors?
Hamish's mind itched. He was missing something, and it was difficult to resist a puzzle.
"I take it your advice to your sister will be based on what you believe her desires lean towards, as opposed to your own?"
Rhaenyra helped herself to some pie and shook her head in amusement.
"I enjoy your directness, Hamish. Since you have raised the point, what do you believe my sister cares for?"
"Autonomy, intelligence, and respect. Your sister does not wish to be hampered in her own pursuits. She mislikes people who act foolishly, and she would desire someone who respected her as a person. Elaena has already put into motion great things, her chosen partner should aid and assist her in bringing her dreams to fruition."
Rhaenyra looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression.
"What do you mean when you say that she has already put into motion great things?"
"Her Dragon Bank has already changed the face of Westeros. I advise my uncle on matters of trade, and the change over the last five years has been significant. Roads have improved, piracy has decreased, banditry has been dealt with, nobles are less able to cheat the crown when it comes to paying taxes, and that is just the start."
"I love my sister, but I believe you give her too much credit. Lord Lyman is the Master of Coin and runs the Dragon Bank. The roads may have been improved thanks to additional tax revenue. And of course we have my husband to thank for the Stepstones matter being resolved."
Hamish schooled his face in time to prevent his jaw from dropping.
Does Rhaenyra truly not know?
Laenor was studying him closely, his expression carefully neutral, a telltale sign that Hamish recognized as someone making an effort to conceal their true reaction.
"The Dragon Bank is under the purview of the Master of Coin, but it is Princess Elaena who operates it. She sets the rates, she decides which loans are approved, and she is responsible for much of the wealth generation that has come from it." He took a sip of the wine and continued. "This includes the generous rates to House Velaryon, which allowed them to continue the prosecution of the war. I take nothing away from you, Ser Laenor, your entry to the battlefield turned the tide, but House Velaryon had been stressed to its limit were it not for the loans."
Laenor nodded. "You are correct. We could have borrowed from the Iron Bank or the Rogare Bank, but the interest would be crippling, given the risks involved of our house growing insolvent with the cost in men, gold, and ships."
Rhaenyra looked surprised. "You did not speak of this to me."
Laenor looked uncomfortable. "I learned of it when I joined my father in battle. Afterwards, I did not wish to speak of the Stepstones at all."
"Princess Elaena has more in store for Westeros. She has many aims, and some may well take a lifetime."
Rhaenyra was curious now. "What aims?"
"She wishes for all of Westeros, particularly the North to be more resilient to the long winters. She would like an increase in literacy, a better system of justice, King's Landing remodeled to better deal with sewage. She even wants to fund expeditions focusing on discovering new types of plants and foods, particular beans for some reason."
Hamish paused, and gauged the reactions to what he was saying. Both Rhaenyra and Laenor were listening in rapt attention.
"I suspect she spoke of her ideas with me more so than her other suitors, but I suspect she has not shared them all. Why am I the right one to marry her? Because I understand her goals, I can help her achieve them, and this can be done without riding to war, or winning a tournament."
Hamish sat back and Rhaenyra gave him a nod.
"You are not what I suspected, Hamish. In some ways, you've grown closer to my sister than I. When I am Queen, whether you are my sister's husband or no, I would want you on the small council."
Hamish startled, that was something he had not expected.
"I… I would be honored of course."
"Wonderful, I dread the day my father's reign ends, for I love him dearly. The thought pains me, and it feels uncouth to begin planning how I will reign before that sad event occurs. But when the time comes, I know the importance of having wise advisors. That, my father did teach me."
In the end, he was pleasantly surprised by how productive their meeting turned out to be. Hamish had expected to face criticism for declining Daemon's challenge, yet it was considered of little consequence. More importantly, he had secured himself a position of power and influence, regardless of the outcome of the courtship trials.
***
Criston Cole stood guard over the Queen, who had come to watch the practice bouts between Daemon and those vying for Princess Elaena's hand. Princess Elaena was also present, along with Aegon and Aemond. Little Daenora had howled fiercely at not being allowed to attend, but Alicent had firmly put her foot down. Fortunately, the child calmed when Elaena promised to share all the details later and spend the following afternoon with her.
Cole knew Daemon was a dangerous opponent. Their infamous joust, decided by Princess Elaena herself, had been one of their key flashpoints, but even before that, they had matched each other closely. Cole had narrowly won their only battle on foot, but it had been a near thing. If they were to fight in earnest, to the death, Cole believed the odds for either of them would be no better than a coin toss.
While the Queen observed from the encircling wall above the training yard, Elaena was below, having approached Daemon. Cole strained his ears to catch their conversation.
"No tourney swords, uncle? There is a reason they were created."
"I fought Ser Alan and Ser Forrest with Dark Sister; it would only be fair to do the same with these three."
"It increases the risk of injury; I am worried you might accidently harm my potential intended." Elaena replied.
"Worry not, I know what I am about, they won't be hurt… much."
In a louder voice, Elaena replied, "This is wonderful to hear, uncle. I greatly appreciate your assurances that your skill at arms will prevent any of your opponents from suffering serious injury."
Clever.
Elaena had made it so that if Daemon did cause serious injury, it would reflect on his prowess. The look of irritation on his face confirmed it. Cole looked at Daemon's opponents and saw Ser Kevan whispering to the other two knights. Ser Medrick stood and walked to the center of the partitioned part of the yard. Meanwhile, instructions were delivered to a squire who ran off.
Working together? Aren't they supposed to be vying against each other for Princess Elaena's hand?
Ser Medrick was equipped with a round shield, larger than most. The sword in his other hand, though plain and unadorned, was clearly castle-forged with a keen edge. However, it paled in every way compared to Dark Sister.
Daemon did not have a shield and he stalked forward and began the dance with swift and accurate strikes. Ser Medrick blocked with his shield and attempted to slash the inside of Daemon's sword arm, where the plate did not cover to allow the joint to move. It was a good area to strike at, but Daemon easily parried or avoided the attempts.
Ser Medrick was patient, ensuring none of his strikes overextended him. His footwork was immaculate, with slight shifts of his body, the angle of his shield, and even the placement of his weight allowing him to fend off Daemon's relentless assault.
Despite his evident skill, Daemon demonstrated why he was such a dangerous foe. A cross-slash was followed by a pivot, a second strike, and then a move inward that led to his Valyrian steel blade crashing into the top of Medrick's shield. Daemon's strength forced the shield lower, and Medrick had to give ground. The moment he was off-balance, Daemon unleashed a barrage of strikes that Medrick could not recover from. Medrick went down and called out his surrender.
Cole saw the effort of will it took Daemon to not continue attacking.
"See, my niece? He'll have some bruising, 'tis all."
Elaena gave him a nod even as she politely clapped.
Ser Kevan was next. His armament was intriguing, almost Dornish in nature, consisting of a spear and shield. Unlike the Manderly, Lefford moved with less fluidity. He constantly retreated, sliding in a circular pattern. Whenever Daemon advanced, Lefford would lash out with the spear, aiming for the neck, visor, and legs, before quickly withdrawing.
Daemon began another aggressive advance and Ser Kevan retreated, and retreated, and retreated. Taking down a man in plate and a shield while he carefully defended himself was difficult, even with a skill disparity. The whole reason why knights wore plate is that it made them considerably more invulnerable on the battlefield. Sure, there were spots through which they could be felled, but getting struck by a sword or spear on most of your armor would accomplish hardly anything for the attacker.
Even weapons like hammers and axes found it difficult to cause lasting damage unless they struck the right areas or were wielded with extraordinary strength. What many smallfolk did not realize was that the heavy plate armor was only the outer layer. Beneath it were rings of chainmail, and underneath that lay the gambeson.
All fighters eventually make mistakes, even the best ones, and Kevan was a far cry from being part of the elite tier that Criston and Daemon were a part of. It only took one mistake and Daemon had exploited it, disarmed Ser Kevan, and taken the victory. Cole noted that Daemon was breathing hard, chasing down Kevan had tired him.
The squire returned with a shield. Cole's keen eye noted that it was different from the first shield Baldric had intended to use before his conversation with Lefford. This new shield was made of wood, and from a distance, it did not appear to be oak.
Baldric was the largest of the suitors, and the lord of his own lands, not just an heir. He had Daemon beat by several inches, but he trudged out toward the center of the makeshift arena. It was a steady gait, but laggardly and ponderous.
Daemon's body language was unworried and as they saluted each other he went on the offensive immediately. The Stormlands noble let out a booming war cry, "HARVEST HALL" and met Dark Sister with his own heavy blade. He then immediately attempted to ram the shield into Daemon, but the Targaryen's natural agility made him dodge the move with ease and Dark Sister missed Baldric's helm by a hair with his counterstroke.
Baldric advanced once more with a massive swing, which Daemon effortlessly stepped back from. Daemon's return stroke struck Selmy's breastplate, sending up sparks as it cut a shallow gash through the armor. Normal blades couldn't achieve such effects, but Valyrian steel could. Baldric swung again, slightly faster this time, but still too slow. Daemon laughed from behind his helm and circled around. With another strike from Baldric, Dark Sister lashed out again, and then Cole saw Baldric make his move.
The big man moved faster than one would think someone of his size should be capable of. His shield moved around in position perfectly. Dark Sister biting into the soft wood deeply, so deep that it was partially lodged in it! In a flash Baldric dropped his blade and lunged forward. Daemon tried to disengage and back away, but his blade was too deeply wedged for a smooth withdrawal. In the fraction of a second he was delayed trying to free Dark Sister, the heavy hand closed around his armor and with it the rest of the mass of Ser Baldric.
Baldric took Daemon to the ground with him. Daemon tried to get a leg under to kick but the big man compensated and pinned the Rogue Prince the ground. His shield pinned down the sword arm while his free hand smashed into Daemon's helm. After two blows, Baldric paused to see if Daemon would yield, but he still squirmed and tried to throw him off. Baldric grunted and then smashed him a few more times and then loudly called out.
"Do you yield, my prince? I do not wish to mar your features; your Lady Laena was kind and it would be ill repayment."
Daemon gave a cry of rage, but then stilled as Baldric raised his gauntleted fist once more. He yielded and Alicent laughed.
"I mislike the idea of my daughter going to the Dornish Marches, but that was well done by Selmy."
Cole gave Alicent a nod, as he looked at Aegon and Aemond quietly arguing about something. Cole redirected his attention to Daemon who was now on his feet.
"Again. We fight again." Daemon demanded.
Elaena walked into the training yard and had Baldric return to the side, and then she addressed Daemon.
"You've sparred with each of my suitors; further bouts will not change anything. I look forward to hearing your thoughts later, uncle."
Daemon stalked forward, and the guards and knights watched warily as he loomed over the young princess.
"This is no longer about your silly courtship games. I will be dueling Selmy."
"Uncle, your anger is clouding your judgement, once you have cooled off and made your recommendations for my hand, we can discuss your concerns at that time."
Cole saw Daemon practically quivering with anger. "Shall I go down there, Your Grace?"
Alicent nodded, "Yes, go."
Cole quickly made his way down as Daemon attempted to master himself. He had just arrived when Daemon shouted out to Lord Selmy.
"Do you hide behind a woman's skirts? Come face me again, or I shall call you craven."
"Not all are so easily led by rash words, uncle. He'll not fight you again, nor will any of my other suitors, while they seek my hand, lest they be removed from contention."
The princess was not a warrior, but she possessed a tactician's mind. Normally, it would be difficult for one such as Selmy to tolerate a slight on his honor as the prince had just delivered. However, Elaena had given him the perfect excuse. She did not wish for another duel to take place, and she was wise in that, given Daemon's ire.
"You conniving little bitch," Daemon snarled and stepped forward toward Elaena.
Cole smoothly stepped in front and locked eyes with the man.
"Careful, my prince, this is the King's daughter you insult."
The tension in the air was a physical sensation, it felt turgid and ripe with the potential for violence. Cole likened it to the feel right before a storm struck. His senses grew sharper as his body felt the rush of anticipation he regularly felt before combat.
A few of the other guards had slowly congregated around them as well, though they kept their distance. Daemon looked at Cole, the guards, and then to Elaena. He spat on the ground.
"Wed you who you like, you care not for my judgement."
Daemon stalked out of the training yard, and Cole let go of a breath he was holding. The feeling of danger dissipated and he turned to Elaena.
"Be careful, princess. That one oft acts before he thinks. If he harmed you his life would be forfeit, and yet…"
"I take your meaning, ser, it is unfortunate that my uncle is not the most rational of people. You have my thanks."
Cole watched as she walked away and congratulated Baldric on his success. The princess was unlikely to heed his words, despite her polite response. For all her intellect, she was sheltered. Criston hoped she never provoked someone like Daemon too far; death could come in an instant, even with guards nearby.