Chapter Start
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(...Daemon Pov)
How long has been since the trumpet was sounded? Time was lost on on me—was it seconds, minutes, or- the sudden scream of a man within the fighting pit threw me out of my inner pondering. My eyes wandered over the battlefield shields and swords littered the floor but none more so than the bodies of falling knights and the occasional squires who were looking to earn their spurs.
I positioned myself at an angle swinging upwards to meet an incoming blade by a Florent knight and started to engage in combat with him—parry, deflect, counter, parry, parry—pivot to the right before stepping in with a feint and hitting him in the stomach with my shield then a smack across the face with the pommel of my sword.
The Florent knight had a tenacity to him as normally that would've put a normal knight on the floor but it seemed he wasn't—good.
'My throat is getting dry, and there is a minor ache in my arm—I guess all those slashing frills father had put me through aren't just bullshit after all, huh.' I said in my mind before advancing towards the Florent knight who seemed to be attacking with a renewed vigor.
'He's better than the gold cloaks—but how long has it been since I fought them?' I quickly shuffled to the side parrying his swing and striking with a counter riposte into his gut. I could hear the gasp in pain as the knight fell to a knee, closely followed by my sword to his face.
"I yield, well fought." He replied while gasping for air.
"Well fought," I replied before moving on to my next challenge.
'I yield.' I have heard that word so many times since the melee started, and I have stopped keeping count after beating 10 knights in combat, but with those 2 words…my lust for battle grew higher and higher—nobody cared about status when faced with a blade, only your skill with it. With each victory and each gauntlet that was claimed, the other knights grew wary of me. Well, it's not like I wronged them; I even bested 3 knights at the same time, following the scuffle with the gold cloaks.
"Everyone should be wary of the lion." A word that my grandsire told me when I was around Tommen's age. Now I'm getting a visual example of it, and I would have screamed for a challenge, but I have to keep up appearances.
But for each of those who stood wary, there were those who I felt an unease from as the Mountain was just bludgeoning through anyone who dared move against him, and Lyn Cobray was just as surgical with a blade that even a Maester might feel envy.
"Everyone is fighting for something, woe to those who don't," I muttered to myself after taking a breather before moving towards my next opponent as the number was reduced from the hundreds to the fifties, something that nobody expected to happen so soon.
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(Knight of Flowers Pov)
My sword swings true—burying itself to the helm of a Hightower knight knocking him down to the floor where my sword met his gaze. The sound of him grumbling filled my ears—the Hightower and Tyrell have history and it fills me with joy besting one of them.
With my win, I could hear the screams of women and I couldn't fault them I was handsome even compared to noble standards but unfortunately, none were of my taste I still had to keep up appearances but my true motive of coming to Kings landing was only known to by myself and maybe grandmother as under the guise of participating in the tourney my true motive was—Renly.
But as the melee commences, the growing need and my wants to visit Renly later become lesser and lesser with each sword swing, and with each defeat, more squeals follow. Moving forward, I danced with grace and precision, defeating each knight I faced and putting on a performance befitting a knight and noble of my station.
Compared to everyone else or most knights nobody can beat me in skill—arrogant maybe but that is what set me apart from my siblings—well perhaps maybe Garlan as he is better than me with a blade but it wouldn't be long before I overtake him and then I will join the Kingsguard something I always dreamt of as a child and something that's always expected from me as a Tyrell.
"I'll take your yield Ser," I replied, my voice soothing but with confidence as the man's frustration was known, which was only enhanced by my chuckling.
After the knight yielded I took the time to notice the sudden clearance and space in the fighting pit this was faster than the last tournament's melee but no matter ill-
Before I could step forward—a knight approached me; his armor was pristine…well that's if you ignored the dents and dirt that's on it, a shield that had seen better days with dents and slash marks but he had a dangerous look to him as he pointed the bastard sword….directly at me.
"Someone has confidence," I remarked quietly, now taking a better look at the sigil on his cuirass. Surprisingly enough, the sigil…a dark sun? Wasn't one he recognized, which only meant this was a mystery knight or a random hedge knight who wanted to earn fame by beating him.
"I accept your challenge, knight of the dark sun," I said, but for some reason, something was telling me to ask the knight for his name.
"If you don't mind me asking for your name, Ser?" I asked him, and fortunately, he responded, unlike what I expected. His voice wasn't gruff but smooth like silk intertwined with confidence and some deepness to it—if I didn't know any better, I would've thought he was a noble under the helm, but why would a noble be a mystery knight?
"Daemon." No last name? That's what I thought, but that isn't Uncommon, especially in a place like King's Landing, unless he was a Waters, which wasn't surprising either, not like he cared much.
The knight carried himself with regality, but my senses were telling me that this knight was dangerous, not like the knights he had encountered so far…finally someone worthy of his sword arm, and when he defeated him, he could unmask the mystery knight and see who's Beneath it.
"Ser Loras Tyrell, let's begin shall we!" I said, stepping towards him cautiously before swinging my blade vertically aimed at his left shoulder, which he deftly met with a parry and a counter riposte—predictably, I swiftly sidestepped the riposte while tilting my upper body to the left, swinging my sword upward, but the knight intercepted it with the shield.
Spinning on the ball of my feet using my agility like a cat to position myself at an angle but surprisingly the knight of the dark sun mirrored my movement and attacked—I didn't shy away from confrontation and met his blade with my own, pulling back and swinging horizontally to leave a gash across his midsection; well that would have happened if he didn't pivot and met the blade with a downward slash knocking it to the ground.
'Good instinct,' but I wasn't a slouch, and I moved to the side, already anticipating him using his shield, which…he didn't. A feint!
The mystery knight thrust his sword with strength, and when I narrowly sidestepped, I could have felt the wind caressing my stomach through my plated armor, a reminder I couldn't be complacent.
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(General Pov)
Clank! Clank! Clank! Swoosh!
"Woah who's that fighting Ser Loras?" Someone said in the crowd.
"Woah are they dancing?" A girl swooned.
"Who is this mystery knight?" Another muttered.
"Knock that pretty boy on his arse!" Another screamed with similar comments being heard.
"Ser Loras defeat that brute!" A girl defended.
"My knight of flowers wouldn't be defeated by a mystery knight upstart!" Another said.
Numerous cheers and shouts like this would have been screamed at, the 2 knights who were interlocked In battle, steel kissing steel and with movement just as nimble as a Shadowcat but it was clear that the Mystery Knight was physically stronger of the two while the Knight Of Flowers was the more experienced but their skill with the blade was near identical.
Each time their steel met, the crowd seemed to rave, and when the shield of the Mystery Knight was used to block a blow, causing a piece of it to chip, the women squealed in delight while the men jeered.
This, however, wasn't lost on the nobles who were located in their tents observing the clash between the fighters, leaving some impressed and the other shocked that they possessed such skill—well, it's expected of Tyrell since he was the brother of Garlan the 'Gallant' but this Mystery Knight?
This undoubtedly drew the attention of a certain black-haired, blue-eyed, handsome individual who was seen placing a cup on a small table. His storm-blue eyes stared at the fight with interest as both of the knights pivoted and clashed numerous times with only steel not bothering to intercept with the blade.
"It seems like Ser Loras has met his match. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Renly?" A voice replied erkingly.
"There is no match for Ser Loras, only him drawing this out, so this stupid tournament can be exciting," Renly replied. "I didn't think you were a man to enjoy fights, Littlefinger…well, after Brandon Stark thoroughly beat you for Ned Stark's wife."
Baelish held his smirk. If he was affected by it, it was well-masked.
"Yes, I remember—I also remember him rushing to the Red Keep to his death, but enough about dead men, Lord Renly." He quickly replied. His eyes glinted with knowing and mischief.
"And even if I'm not a warrior, even the most baseborn Babe could see that Loras has met his match, and with the way you're gripping your seat, even you know it." Littlefinger pointed out with a smile.
Renly's knuckles were white—white, one could mistake it for the bone or the snow in the north, something reminiscent of his exterior, but his eyes were cold…for those who know him, this was out of character. A swing landed on Loras's shoulder, leaving a deep kiss of steel that forced him back.
Seeing this, he bit his lip in worry—a slip in his mask which little finger had noticed all too easily and would've chuckled, but even those eyes left from Renly's face to the kiss of steel in front of him.
"A proposition, Lord Renly." Little Finger said.
"What is the proposition? Out with it." Renly replied agitated.
"A bet—your Loras against the Mystery Knight," Baelish said, emphasizing a particular word that drew Renly's, eyes to his own.
"...and the bet?" Renly asked cautiously.
Littlefinger's eyes glimmered as if a child who had gotten their favorite candy but as quick it was shown it disappeared—was this something he had planned prior? He still held his infuriating smirk on his face before he replied.
"As you are Master of Laws I would request…a cease on a certain payment annually—covered up with no trace." He replied softly.
Renly's eyes widened, looking at him as if he were stupid.
"Are you suggesting tax evasion? Are you mad?" He whispered, "And what I'd this for—your brothels?" He followed up with.
"You could say that, and in return on your part, I could sponsor a little…getaway with you and your rose~" Baelish replied smugly.
"Y-you-" Replied, looking at him wide-eyed, and before he replied, Baelish stared at the fight, wincing as Loras's blade met the side of the Mystery Knight, forcing him on the defensive.
"Aye, you could say I figured that also. So what do you say?" He said.
"...Fine—I agree to the bet," Renly said begrudgingly before picking up his cup and downing it in one go. He didn't have a problem with the bet...but it was the fact that he knew what worried him.
Renly started to think—he couldn't say anything…he had dirt on Little finger also but the man is as slippery as an eel!
'Don't lose Loras!' He said in his mind, watching as the two knights below would have continued to attack each other, now going much faster than before.
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(Loras vs Daemon)
Daemon stepped to the side narrowly dodging the sword that nearly kissed his helm and putting him to an induced sleep. Daemon stepped inside the guard of Loras and thrusted—his blade honed in on the gap between his armor, blood tasting his steel leaving everyone stunned as his blade was dyed red.
—Clank! Shing!—Well, that would have happened if Loras hadn't used the sword guard to knock the sword to the side, scrape against his Cuirass, and punch Daemon in the face; luckily, his helm stayed on his face, but he was rattled.
Loras started to unload—his strikes packing strength, and with each stroke, the shield on Daemon's forearm splintered and cracked, but Daemon, did something foolish and swung the hand that was wielding the shield at the sword at the exact same time, causing the sword to be stuck in it.
Swiftly adjusting the sword in his hands, he thrusted the pummel into the gaps of Loras's armor, making him gasp and pushing him away from himself. Unfortunately, he still had the strength to pull his sword from his shield, which was practically worse for wear.
"You're skilled, Ser.." Loras commented before refurbishing his stance pointing his sword at Daemon.
The Bastard Of King's Landing positioned his sword at the straps of his shield and started to cut them—surprising Loras and if he had his helm removed he would have been gaping
"And you Lord Tyrell," Daemon responded–tasting the metallic flavor of blood on his tongue—that last punch seemed to have busted his lip.
"Why remove your shield?" Loras asked, causing Daemon to chuckle the first real one since the tournament started.
"Habit would force me to raise it again and I don't think It could survive any more blows which would risk my sword arm. You are talkative though." Daemon replied, twirling the sword in his hand before gripping it with both hands.
Daemon and Loras stared at each other before stepping in closer to each other, but—Loras would have done something that shocked Daemon and even the crowd who were focused on them.
Wshh!....Umph!
He positioned his sword at the straps of his shield—cutting through them and dropping his shield, now wielding his sword with both hands flexing knuckles, getting a field for them while gripping the handle of his sword.
"I would like to take notice of most knights that could go 10 minutes straight against me, and as for the shield, it's only to make it fair. Yours was already badly damaged when you challenged me." Loras stated.
"That shield might have made you win," Daemon remarked.
"Now aren't you talkative?" Loras said, chuckling a sentiment that Dameon shared. "Touche-" Daemon conceded.
"Dance with me then!" Daemon said before swinging his sword at Loras's shoulder which the Tyrell knight met with his blade—now starting the new verse of the songs of steel between the two fighters.
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…Chapter Ends