111 AC
King's Landing, Tourny grounds
First Person POV,
Rickon Stark
XXX
'I have to show them, I have to show them all.'
I gripped the reins of Greystorm, my loyal steed with one hand. With the other my my armored hand clutched my lance tighter. My grey spotted steed neighed beneath me as he kicked up dirt in anticipation.
I stared into the eyes of the eagle across from me. I was unfamiliar with the full Arryn family at the moment; however, the announcer had said that the man before me represented their liege lady. As such I must defeat him there is no other option.
I glanced up briefly at the Stark box in which my father sits. Father is not a young man anymore, his hair has greyed, and his face has far more lines than I recall from when I was a child. We locked out silver grey eyes and he measured me with the slightest of nods as if to say.
"Go forth my son!"
And so, when the horn blew and it was time to charge I lowered my lance and yanked the reins of my steed. Then I surged forth motioning to strike the falcon knight. The sounds of the world faded around me and I could only hear the beating of my own heart in my ears, and the sound of my own breath.
Thump, Thump, Thump
I rode at him full speed Greystoorm, performing, exactly as practiced. I aimed for his shield as he did mine, the knight and I collided and my body was rocked with a force stronger than any other I've ever his with.
CRACK!
"Grah!" I called out unable to hear the Falcon Knights' own shout. I steadied myself and recovered quickly.
'So this is jousting is it? Truly you were right my friend it is nothing like any other game I've played so far!'
Thump, Thump, Thump
With my lance shattered, Greystorm and I rode on circling around and calling out for another lance I could hear my heart pounding again. My squire responded quickly and my catch was almost perfect as I gained my new lance.
Thump, Thump, Thump
Greystorm neither again I could almost feel how excited he was. This is what my loyal steed had been trained for. Before I began my next course charging at my fellow warrior, sound returned to my ears.
Thump, Thump, Thump
I charged again and a strange sensation filled my chest. It wasn't just Greystorm who was excited but me as well. I could feel it thruming in my blood. My brother had spoken of this same sensation once but I had never felt it before.
Somehow though I just knew what it was. I rode forth smashing another lance off his shield as the smile on my face grew. I didn't even bother to check if he fell or not as I called out for another lance.
Reviving it I swung back around and we dashed towards the knight who came back at me in turn. My blood howled, my lance crashed, my shield cracked, his lance broke, and my armor rang out.
Three tilts and I was already sore, so I went for another, and another, and another. Six. Six tilts went by before I rocked the falcon one last time and he flew from his horse. His lance missed, his body fell to the earth, and I could finally hear once more.
The first voice I heard made me turn my head back to the Stark box. It was my little brother Bennard yelling and hooting and hollering with joy a genuine smile on his face. Then our mother smacked him over the head and made him sit back down. I smiled with a huff and my gaze turned to my father.
His face was stoic but he nodded at me once more and that was all I needed from him. Meanwhile, the other northern lords shouted cheers for me as well.
Lord Manderly raised a cup of sloshing wine in my honor with a smile. Lord Umber stood and roared a cheer a flagon of ale in hand and splashing. The other lords of the north stood up and cheered as well. I almost held up my arm to wave at them but my attention turned back to my opponent.
The man had risen from the ground and instead of looking at me he was staring at the royal box. I followed his gaze and I realized he locked eyes with his liege lady.
In truth, I did not know much about Jeyne Arryn but I did know that being a cousin of the royal family afforded her special privileges. Sitting in the royal box being one.
She stared at him, he stared back, and a beat passed. She looked at me, then the princess next to her, then back to me, and then to him. Another moment passed the crowd began to quiet down. Even the king who looked distracted by something the lord Hand had told him earlier switched his gaze to me, the knight, and then to Jeyne.
The crowd hung on the edge waiting for something. Then the tendon broke with a single act. She nodded at him and he nodded back, then he called out.
"SWORD!"
His squire rushed towards him blade in hand. I dismounted, unsure what to think but I knew I had to hurry. The next thing heard was the announcer's shout.
"HE CALLS FOR A CONTEST OF ARMS!"
I wasn't sure how to take the challenge but I knew I had to act quickly. I called for my squire Marwin Reed. The boy might be small but he's quick, and with movement, he makes it clear just how much reverence he has for the blade in his hands.
The sword of my family reaches my hand swiftly, as if it were made to be there. The metal rings like a bell as I hold it with one hand and unsheath it with the other.
The steel is dark as the long night itself and rippled like water. I take a moment to steady the massive blade in my hands. It's a great sword like no other. Its weight is far lighter than any other blade of its size. The steel, embedded with blood magic all those centuries ago, shines brightly in the sunlight.
Its mid day, I'm in my prime, and there is this wild feeling in my heart. It is a craving like no other, a hunger, no a thirst for one thing and one thing only.
Battle!
This is a sensation that I never thought would overcome me today, and yet as I charge at my opponent I don't even bother to get a shield. I'm too happy, too hungry, too excited for this fight.
And as I swing down on the falcon knight's shield with the wrath of a winter wind. The wolf's blood howls with the fury of all the kings of winter.
Ice swings down, the blow lands, the crowd cheers, and the scent of blood fills the air. I lick my lips and
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111 AC
King's Landing, Tourny grounds
First Person POV,
Aemon Targaryen
XXX
I stand arms crossed, watching the two men hack at each other with reckless abandon.
My skill amplifies their emotions slowly higher and higher. The thrill of battle, the lust for blood, the excitement and joy that come with competition. All things I'm trying to amplify with my skill.
I invested a metric fuck ton into this damn Tourny and I'll be damned if I don't get my moneys worth back out of it and then some. Merchandise, concession stands, hell I even higherd hawkers to sell food and drinks to the crowd. Do you know how hard it is to set all that up?
I sighed and looked to my right. Beside me, Arnold stares out into the field worry clearly filling his eyes. Meanwhile, Rickon has been swinging fearcely and doesn't seem to have any intention of letting up on his assault.
From what I recall Rickon's future son Cregan is supposed to be quite skilled with the blade and at one point crossed swords with the dragon knight himself.
I frown.
'No that sounds a little gay, let's say fought instead.'
He at one point even fought the dragon knight himself though by that time the man must have been much older.
Still, it doesn't quite matter as it's not the son but the father I'm watching today. Even so, the man, or rather teen is fighting like he's got something to prove and in truth he does.
For a boy of only fifteen, I don't think I've seen a better fighter at his age. Then again I am only 14 and I wager I could beat him. Although I am a supernatural creature, so perhaps that doesn't really count.
'Starks are also supposed to have magic in their blood, though right?' I hum quietly as my gaze drifts from the duel back up to the royal box. I brought Arnold here so he could get a close-up look at his father's fight while I prepare my dramatic entrance though I'm still not sure if I want to wait until before or after Daemon shows up.
Perhaps I should just wait after all allowing him to get in a few bouts before I know him off his loyal steed? Although I wouldn't want people saying I waited until he was tired and I couldn't beat him at his full strength.
He might even make that same excuse himself when he loses to me. Plus I still need him to like me enough afterwards in order to listen to me later.
I sigh again, oh how delicate my plans and plots must be. But timing is absolutely everything if I want it all to go to plan. Speaking of which I wonder when Aemma will begin her labors. I switched the match order after having suggested that the opponents be chosen randomly by drawing lots to the king.
A lovely idea, which was all too easy to manipulate him into accepting without hesitation. I suppose it doesn't matter though so long as it happens. I frown again, as a part of me remembers the tragic fate of the woman.
Aemma had always been nice to especially when I was younger and new to this world. I was honestly always quite fond of her as well. My mind is made up though, besides this is the easy part. All I have to do is step aside and wait.
As much as I wanted to save her and poor baby Baelon I couldn't. I made a promise and I plan to keep it until the bitter end.
'I will become king of this land someday no matter what it takes mother. I promise.'
I swelled and looked down before glancing back at the fight in front of me. The knight in falcon regalia was clearly losing, but he was putting up a good fight though. I'll admit that Arnold's father was a solid warrior, of that there can be no doubt.
Even so, the young Stark came at him again and again, never letting up for even an instant. I was honestly surprised he had the stamina to keep up such an unrelenting onslaught of blows against his foe.
Even so, the lord of the Gulltown Arryns managed to keep up dodging and blocking wherever he could, but any counter or partying blow was swiftly batted away by the wolf of Winterfell. It seems a talent for fighting runs in the Stark blood indeed. Plus I know for a fact Rickon is no green boy, he's had to fight Wildlings and bandits as well, just like many other lords of the north.
Needless to say, he is not in blooded and it shows in his skill. It takes a while but I finally see Lord Arryn's ironwood shield crack and shatter under the rain of Ice's attacks.
The legendary decapitation sword reels back again before firing like a taut arrow at the knight again. Arnold's father just barely brings his blade up again to block it in time once more.
'Perhaps I've polished Rickon a little too, that was a killing blow for sure.'
I glance over at Arnold whose practically vibrating with worry for his father. I feel a little bad… almost, I did bet a lot of money on the young Stark winning though, and I did come down here to make sure that happened not that I had to interfere much though.
"Your father is going to lose," I say, and luckily for me that is a good thing. Even so, Arnold turns and looks at me with those big blue eyes of his and I can't help but feel bad for the boy. His father is in there and he might die and I can practically feel the worry and anxiety rolling off of him in waves, it's rather uncomfortable actually.
"Don't worry hell be okay so long as he yields," I say putting a guantleted hand on his head. I push some calming emotions into his whiles doing the same to both of the opponents fighting in the lanes.
"Do you think that'll stop lord Stark?" He says voice week and wavering slightly. I nodded and the boy smiled slightly which made me feel somewhat better.
"Yes of course the Starks are known to reliable lords. Don't worry this isn't a melee," I say trying to keep my new squire from spilling the slight tears that had built up in his eyes already.
The small boy nodded and I couldn't help but pull him next to me as I returned to watching the match. Arnold's father somehow managed to duck a blow from Ice and stabbed at Rickon who dodged the blow and then parried another.
'It seems his stamina is starting to finally run dry.' A small frown crossed my face and the worry for my future money crept into my heart.
'Okay never mind! Fuck chilling out come bring me my god damn gambling money Stark!'
I intensified his emotions again and it seemed to work out as Rickon brought his sword down for another strike as fast as when he started. Arnold's father tried to barry a diagonal blow but his sword could no longer keep up with the might of Valyrain steel and snapped in half.
The tip of the blade went flying as Rickon held the blade towards the falcon knight's throat and shouted.
"YIELD!"
I held back a smile as I patted little Arnold on the shoulder. His head looked down and he shook slightly but he didn't cry.
'There's a good lad, I'll make you a knight yet.'
The Gulltown lord held for a moment before replying. The crowd went quiet and the tension was so thick that you could only cut it with a Velyrian steel knife.
"I yield, Lord Stark." He said nodding at Rickon and dropping his blade. The young Stark lowered his ancestor's sword and the crowd cheered. He turned to walk away but the falcon knight stopped him by grabbing his wrist and holding it up in the air. The cheers grew even louder especially from the northern section though the Vale lords seemed to only clap quietly.
'Don't worry he's not the only Vale knight in this Tourny.' I smirked and turned away from the field. I'll wait for a while before I return to the tunnel for the next match. I marched towards my tent and it wasn't long before I heard Arnold follow me. I thought he would want to wait for his father to return but I guess he's a better squire than that. Love and duty are such odd things in this world.
I would sigh again however the thought of my future money made me far too happy to do that.
'Ah, God, how I've missed sports betting. I should totally bet more money on myself. I should even win a horse race as well. I'd make so much money from that. What fun this little festival is. That gives me an idea for the future. I should totally train Arnold to fight little Cregan in the future and recreate this fit when my first child is born. It'll be so much fun!'
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I feel like vomiting bye-bye 🥲🤮