Chapter 16
ALICENT HIGHTOWER
The tourney of the heir had begun, and Kingslanding was filled with lords and ladies from all over the continent, each ready to make his own mark in history. The ladies, on the other hand, were here to cheer on the knights of their own choosing, anointing onto them their favors so that they may gain good fortune.
Many a lord sought her own favour. During the festivities preceding the tourney, she was approached by many a chivalrous knight for her own favour. After all, wearing the favor of a lady of good repute was considerable honour for the knight.
And yet she had granted that favour to no one and had foregone her usual choice, which was her own brother, as she strode through the various tents and stables, searching for the flag with black studs drawn onto a bronze shield with ancient runes woven into the edges.
And there she found it, near the end of the grounds, with knights and squires entering and leaving the tent in doves.
She walked up to the tent and watched as one of the knights stopped and recognized her.
"Lady Alicent," Ser Willam greeted her, which she returned as she looked over Aegon's cousin, not missing how he and the other squires and knights around him seemed to be covered in black soot.
And she had heard the rumors in the city of a dark dragon taking to the skies last night. Many believed that it was the ghost of the 'Black Dread.' The King himself called it an omen for the birth of his heir.
However, she had a different opinion, much like Rhaenyra, who would smile cryptically when asked about that very thing.
"It seems that you all had a rather exciting night, Ser Willam," she teased, and the brown-haired man smiled sheepishly as he rubbed his hair.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," the young knight said as he glanced down at the crown of flowers in her hands.
"Ohh," and the words escaped his mouth as he looked at her face.
"I doubt that this is for me," he teased and got out of the way as he pointed towards teh tent.
"He is in there and rather sad for some reason. I do hope your gift cheers him up a bit," he said, and there was genuine concern in his voice, she nodded as she stepped forward; the knights easily moved out of the way and let her enter, both of them covered in hastily washed soot as well.
"I said I...." and his words were cut off as he turned towards her and stopped talking. He sat on a wooden stool clad in full armor, a sword resting on his lap, which he seemed to be tending to.
"My lady," he greeted her as he began to rise, but she halted him as she stepped forward.
"There is no need to get up," she said and walked forward as she observed the sword, recognizing the smoky pattern of its metal.
"Valyrian Steel," she gasped out, and the Prince nodded.
"Indeed, this is the Valyrian Steel sword of House Royce. Lamentation," he said as he took the blade by the hilt and raised it towards her.
"I do not use it often, for it is not my preferred length, but my mother insisted and entrusted me with it before I came to the capital," he added, and she gulped down as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt.
It was a great sword, yet it was light—quite light. As he added, her surprise must have shown.
"That is the deception of Valyrian Steel. It cuts like no other but is way lighter than regular steel," he said. He stood up and motioned for her to sit down in his stead, for there seemed to be only one stool in the tent.
"No, I am fine. I won't be here for long," she said as she passed him the sword, and he nodded.
"So..." and she hesitated, thinking of how to say it as she kept the favour hidden behind her and began to puzzle.
And so she was surprised when Aegon suddenly knelt down on one knee and presented her his lance.
"If this knight is so bold, will the fair lady grace this one with her favour?" he asked, smiling at her and making her flush as she nodded, bringing the prepared ribbon forward.
"I thought you would never ask," she said as she tied it around her lance, and just as she was about to take her hand back, Aegon gently took it in his hand and gave her knuckles a brisk kiss.
"I shall endeavor to win the joust and repay this great favour," he said, and she smiled.
"I shall be fine if you just take care of yourself," she said. She was about to leave when he called back.
"Why don't you join me? There is still quite some time until the joust starts," he said. She nodded and decided to join him in the tent, and they began to make small talk about innocuous subjects, about joust, about his opponents.
"Speaking of that, have you heard this newfound legend about Balerion's ghost?" she asked him with a smile. To his credit, his expression did not shift; he simply raised a brow.
"I am afraid you have me at a loss."
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RHAENYRA TARGARYEN
Rhaenyra sat in the Royal booth, fiddling with her jewellery as the tourney was set to begin. Her father had gone inside, leaving her all alone.
A rarity for her ever-present companion was nowhere to be found despite her having sent several servants to look for her. As she was thinking about her, she appeared from behind the curtains, dressed in a white gown with an intricate design in the front, leaning down and showing her porcelain shoulders.
"Alicent," she called for her and beckoned her to join her. She did so, and she had not missed the slight flush of her face, showing that she had certainly walked here from quite some distance.
"So, where were you?" she asked teasingly as her friend settled down beside her.
"Busy," she replied cryptically, and Rhaenyra raised a brow.
"In a bronze tent perhaps," she teased, and Alicent snapped towards her.
"Maybe," they both laughed a bit as they settled down and watched as the herald began to sound the horn, indicating the beginning of the joust.
And then the knights began to come out, all clad in full Armor.
"TODAY, ON THIS AUSPICIOUS DAY, WE ARE JOINED BY THE FINEST KNIGHTS OF THE REALM! KNIGHTS WHO SHALL COMPETE FOR THE HIGHEST HONOR AND THIRTY THOUSAND GOLD COINS!" the herald announced, and the masses cheered.
Her eyes sifted through the gathered knights to the person she was looking for. He was clad in dull black armor, adorned with runes, and wearing a helm shaped like a dragon. More importantly, her eyes landed on the pearly white ribbon tied around his spear, one similar in coloring to the dress her friend wore beside her.
"You do know I offered him my own favor," she began as she saw Alicent's eyes looking in the same direction.
"What?" Alicent asked, and she nodded.
"And I was not the only one. I have heard that Lady Strong conveyed a similar message alongside a whole slew of other ladies," she added, and Alicent's eyes widened a bit.
"Yet he denied them all, even me," she made a miserable face.
"The sheer gall," she said as she made an animated face, shaking her head.
"Who knew that he was waiting for someone special?" Her face flushed up.
"Shut up," she said as she pinched her arm. The herald's horn rang once more, and the gate on the other side opened up, and she felt her friend tense up suddenly.
"NOW WE WELCOME THE WINNER OF THE LAST TOURNAMENT! PRINCE OF THE REALM! PRINCE DAEMON!" and at that, her uncle stepped onto the ring, on his horse his armor of a much darker shade than Aegon, yet with none of the ancient runes and more rubies and dragon insignia emboldened into it.
And the crowd went mad. The roars were deafening as he made a round of the ring on his horse, lavishing on the cheers as the herald continued.
"NOW AS HIS PRIVILAGE AS THE WINNER OF THE LAST JOUST! THE PRINCE SHALL CHOOSE HIS OPPONENT!" and with that, he walked towards the royal box.
"Where is my brother," he asked as he raised the visor, and just as he asked, the King walked forward alongside his hand, to a round of cheer as he raised his hand.
"I am here to announce that the Queen's labors have begun!" and the cheers went wild as she rose from her own seat and walked towards the edge of the box.
"So, are you here to ask Father for his favor?" she teased him, and Daemon smirked.
"Now, that would be scandalous, but I had someone else in mind," and at that, she saw him glance to her side towards Alicent, who had moved forward a bit to join her yet still hung back.
"Ohh, I am afraid that ship has sailed," she cut in as she saw Daemon frown.
"Someone else already has her favor. Now I would gladly grant you mine own, just to save face, of course," she taunted and saw Daemon's face shift for a moment before he laughed.
"I am honored by your graciousness, dear niece."
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AEGON TARGARYEN
Aegon had never been a fan of jousting, more so in front of such a gathering. This was his third bout of the day as he rode against Borros Baratheon for the fifth time. He had broken three lances yet had been unable to unhorse the hulking Baratheon lord, who glared at him through his helm from the distance.
"Lance," he called, and the squire handed him one more lance as he wiped off the sweat from his face. He twisted it in his hand for a second, getting the feel of it and understanding its balance.
Despite trying, no two lances were ever the same, and neither was this one. It was a bit harder than the last one, nothing beyond the regulated weight but still a bit weightier.
And so, he put down his visor and took a deep breath as he leaned down.
"A small tilt to the side," he whispered as he kicked up his horse and got into the stride just as Borros Baratheon did the same, his starting position a bit wider than usual. Not much, just a step, but Borros Baratheon's shoulder had become stiff during their last bout, and he had heard through some trickery on how he was planning on pinning him straight down.
And so he rode, his horse attuned to his commands, slowly gaining momentum, waiting for the peak of the tilt to gain his maximum speed for the maximum momentum rather than wasting energy during the start.
And so, just as they were able to connect, Aegon pulled back his lance as Borros's lance hit his shield. It slid to the side as Aegon pushed forward his hand, attacking Borros's shoulder. The man could not raise his shield in time, and the lance hit him on the shoulder.
"ARGH!" The man tried to hold onto his reins, but he was unbalanced, and his horse moved forward. He slid off, falling to the ground.
"YEAHHHHH!"
"AND WE HAVE A WINNER. THE YOUNG DRAGON EMERGES VICTORIOUS!" the herald roared as Aegon pushed up his visor, his fatigue catching up to him, and yet he could not rest. Not yet, for he had one more bout to go; he pulled his horse to a stop and jumped off it, handing its reigns to one of the squires from the Vale.
"Replace the horseshoe from its front legs and feed it half a kilo of feed, and no more," he said as he walked back towards the Baratheon lord, who was being helped up by his squire and walked with a limp.
"Ay, you are nearly as good as your father was at that age," the man praised, not knowing how his words had only enraged him. Yet Aegon smiled as he took the offered hand.
"Nah. I am better," he said with a smile, and the Baratheon lord laughed.
"AHAHAHA. THAT WE SHALL SEE SOON, WON'T WE?" he added, and indeed they would, he thought as he looked towards the next names on the lists.
"THE NEXT BOUT IS BETWEEN OUR VERY OWN PRINCE DAEMON AND A MYSTERY KNIGHT FROM STORMLANDS ITSELF. SER CRISTON COLE!" the herald roared as both Daemon and the man who may one day don the white cloak stepped into the rink.
Criston Cole was a baseborn knight, the son of a steward, and yet he was gifted. He had ridden off his own cousin Willem and Ser Ander Tully, two knights of great skill, and now he was set to face his biggest challenge yet.
"THE BOUT HAS BEEN CALLED BY THE PRINCE. THEY SHALL FIGHT TO THE BLADE."
And the crowd went wild. In jousting one could fight to two outcomes. To the tilt, that meant that the battle would end if one of the riders was unhorsed, or to the blade, which meant that the battle would continue even after the unhorsing and would be decided with a duel until one yield.
As they took their positions, he felt a pair of eyes focus on him. He looked towards the Royal box and found Alicent staring at him. He gave her a nod as his hand inched towards the favor he wore for her as a servant rushed into the royal box, and his heart sunk as it leaned down and began to whisper in the King's ear.
And then, to his dismay, he watched as the king left the royal box and Daemon and Criston Cole took their respective places.
Aegon though did not wait for the start of the duel as he turned away and walked towards his tent.
"I am going inside. Do not disturb me," he commanded his squire.
"But my lord, you are going to face the winner of thi..."
"I gave you my orders. Follow them," he finished and walked inside and, after a deep breath, closed his eyes. In a second, he felt his vision shift as he felt himself leave his body before he landed on a window and heard only the screams of a condemned woman.
.
.
.
He watched as the screams died down, and the stench of blood filled the room as the lifeless body of Aemma Arryn lay there, as the King stood there pale and weak, holding the lifeless body of a child, and in its sorrow, the crow flew into the room, and perched on the pillow beside her, as a bloody tear slid down its eye.
"Haah, haah, Haah," Aegon huffed as he felt his senses return to him. He had overtaxed himself and was sweating profusely, and as he tried to look around, he felt his vision blur up and wiped away at his eyes and found his hand covered in a red smudge.
"Blood..." he realized as he brought together his fingers, only to then notice the loud commotion from the outside.
And at that, he walked out of the room and towards the ring only to find Daemon pinned to the ground as Criston Cole swung away his morning star at the Prince. The two of them fought, covered in mud and dirt, as the crowd cheered.
SMASH.
SMASH.
SMASH.
And then it happened as the herald blew his horn.
"HALTTTTTTT!"
And Aegon closed his eyes as he looked to the skies.
"Forgive me...."
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