Chapter 21
MATARYS TARGARYEN
Matarys was not much fond of the choices he had been offered. If it had just been a broken hand or a few fingers, then the whole matter could have been resolved somewhat peacefully.
But the idiot had gone ahead and done the unthinkable, and he could not help but feel somewhat responsible for the death he had caused, and rather than showing remorse over his actions, the bastard refused to back down from his allegations as he called for the execution of the entire crew along with Dunk.
Contrary to what may be believed, Matarys did not hate his cousin. He had no reason to hate him, yet he had a great dislike for his cruelties. They had clashed often during his squiring at Summer Hall, and he did not know when that rivalry turned into this relationship of hatred and envy.
And now he had forced Matarys to draw his blade against his own family. Matarys was rather close to his uncle. He had learned much from him in his time at Summer Hall, and one could argue that they had spent more time together than he had with his father.
From techniques for sparring and jousting to the duties of a lord, he had learned all from Maekar, and now he was going to raise his own blade against him.
It was painful. Agonizing. Yet it was the right thing to do.
It was the only thing to do.
Since it was Matarys leading the defense, gathering allies did not take much time. More than two dozen knights had come to him, offering their swords, but in the end, only five could join him for the trial.
He had made his choice, and there were many familiar names amongst them, and now, just as the Sun cut through the clouds, the seven of them gathered with their horses and began to discuss their strategy for the trial.
The five knights who would wield their blades with him were Ser Robyn Rhysling, Ser Humfrey Hardyng, Ser Humfrey Beesbury, Ser Manfred Dondarrion, and Lord Lyonel Baratheon.
All of them were great knights and had been amongst the first to volunteer for the cause. Some of them were family as well, for Ser Manfred was her mother's cousin and had fought alongside him at the Red Mountains for half a year.
"My lord and good sers," Matarys began as his eyes panned through them all.
"I will not lie to you and say that the battle will be an easy one. Our opponents are strong, as well, and they will fight hard for their cause," and they all knew that.
"But I believe that victory will be ours, for our cause is just and our hearts pure," and Lyonel scoffed at that.
"I wouldn't be so sure about the second part," and his banter cut through the seriousness as many of them chuckled, including him.
"You need not speak, my Prince," Ser Beesbury began, as he turned towards him.
"All of us are honored that we will be riding into battle with the Matchless Prince," and his good brother, Ser Humfrey, nodded.
"Aye," he said, and looked around.
"I will tell my children and their children tales about how I rode into battle with the Matchless Prince," and Matarys could only nod, as his uncle turned his head to the side.
"My Prince, there is someone here to see you," and he turned around and saw his father walking out of the woods with Ser Donnel at his side. He scanned the faces of the men gathered here, as Matarys gave the men a nod and walked towards him.
"I will be back," and with that, he was facing his father once more, who eyed him strangely with those mismatched eyes of his.
"Father," he greeted, and the last time they had met, Matarys had forbidden him and Valarr from riding beside him, much to their dismay.
"You have chosen well," he said, and that was praise.
"I know," he said as he turned towards the six men and saw Duncan speaking to them, and thanking them for their support as Lyonel made jokes.
"They are good men," he whispered, as his father placed a hand on his shoulder.
"So are you," he said, as Matarys turned towards him slowly, and Baelor was smiling now.
"I spent the entire night wondering over what I would have done if I were in your place," and Matarys did not need to wonder, for he knew the answer already.
"You would have done the same thing as me," Matarys answered, and Baelor nodded.
"Indeed, but it took me an entire night to reach that decision, yet you chose to stand for honor at the first sight of injustice," and he pressed on his shoulder lightly.
"I am proud of you, Matarys," he said, as his face shifted slightly.
"Thank you," Matarys said, as Baelor wrapped his arms around him and hugged him right there.
"It pains me that I am not standing there beside you," and Matarys pulled away and shook his head.
"No man should ever have to draw their blade against their own brother," Matarys countered, and Baelor's eyes narrowed.
"Nor his uncle," he countered, but his lips thinned.
"I know how close you two were," and they were indeed.
"Sometimes we must do the right thing, even if it pains us to do so, for all it takes for evil to prosper is for good men to do nothing," and the words seemed to surprise his father, who took a second before he sighed.
"You always did have your way with words," he praised, as he looked at the sky and gave a deep sigh.
"I will pray for you," and Matarys nodded, as their father turned his back on him, but he had only just taken a few steps when he called back.
"Matarys," and he stopped as well and turned to face him.
"Yes," and he seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before he added.
"I know it is not right of me to speak, but your cousin Daeron, you and I both know..."
"I know," Matarys cut in, for he already knew that Daeron would be riding against him as well, for Aerion.
"I will do my best to see him unharmed," he assured him, and with that, he joined the group of seven once more.
"Did daddy come to check up on his precious little son?" Lyonel teased, and Matarys raised a brow.
"You lost to this precious little daddy's boy yesterday," he countered, and many within the group chuckled, but Lyonel was not one of them as his face turned taut.
"What did you say?" he asked furiously, as he walked up to him, and the man was a head taller than him.
"I said you lost to this daddy's boy just yesterday, my lord," Matarys repeated, as they stared into each other's eyes as silence hung in the air, before suddenly the man began to laugh.
"HAAAHAAAAAA!" he laughed as he slapped his shoulder, and then grabbed him by the neck and brought their foreheads together and looked deep into his eyes.
"Balls of steel! You fucking Prince!" and then he pushed him away.
"I know I made the right choice in fighting for this bastard!" and then he raised his fist.
"TO JUSTICE!" and the others joined him as well.
"TO JUSTICE!"
"I believe it is time that we discuss the pairings now," his uncle proposed, and while a trial of the Seven was a free-for-all, they would need to choose their opponents for the first charge.
"Indeed, while I have no doubt about our strength, we cannot underestimate our enemies," Ser Beesbury came in support of that suggestion.
"So be it, but before that, there is one thing that I must mention," and they all nodded once more.
"My cousin, Daeron, will be riding against us as well. But he is no knight. He has no animosity for us. Any one of us here who faces him will be able to knock him down in the first tilt, and once he has fallen, he will not rise against us," and now there were a few narrowed eyes.
"You are asking us to spare him?" questioned Ser Monfred, and he nodded.
"Enough blood will be spilled today," and his tone was somber now.
"I have little desire to shed any more than necessary," and at that, he turned towards his uncle.
"You will be the one charging at him," he pointed towards him.
"I hope I can trust you to honor my word," and after some thinking, the man nodded.
"As you wish then, nephew," and then he turned towards Ser Duncan.
"You will face Aerion," and the tall man nodded nervously.
"Ser Manfred will join you after he is done with Daeron," and then he turned towards Ser Beesbury.
"You shall face Ser Grance Morrigen, Ser Beesbury," and he was a very good knight of House Morrigen.
"Ser Humfrey shall Ser Cargyll, and you Ser Rhysling will face Ser Abelar Hightower," and Cargyll was another House from the Crownlands who had chosen to stand for Aerion.
"Lord Lyonel, you shall face Ser Steffon Fossoway," and the man frowned.
"The Apple boy," and he seemed unsatisfied.
"He is a good knight," Matarys added, and the man waved away. Steffon had come to Matarys offering his blade, but he had denied him for he could see the greed in those eyes, and the Fossoway knight had then turned around and pledged his sword to Aerion's cause just as quickly.
"Maybe, but I did not join this battle to fight some petty little Apple boy," Lyonel argued.
"I wanted to have a crack at the Anvil himself," and that was his uncle's title. Maekar the Anvil, he was called for both his own rigidness and for the role he had played in the Blackfyre rebellion.
"There is no doubt in my mind that my uncle is the best fighter we face today," and while the realm mostly sang songs of the Breakspear, the truth was that Maekar was his equal in sword and lance.
"It is only right that the best of us face the best of them," he added, and Lyonel could not argue now.
"Still, he is your uncle, you squired for him," Ser Manfred added, and Matarys's fists balled up at that.
"Can you really face him?" he asked, and Matarys nodded with a pained heart.
"Aye, I can," and then suddenly he saw as their armors and horses come through the forests as the squires appeared.
"They say that the trial is set to begin in an hour," and so it was time for them to wear their armors and prepare their mounts, and as Duncan turned towards the horses, he spotted his own horse being carried by a familiar face.
"What are you doing here, boy?" he asked, perplexed by the sight of Aegon carrying his armor and lance.
"My duties as a squire," he answered as silence hung in the air.
"Ser."
.
.
.
And as the Seven Knights gathered, a storm of crows gathered above them, witnessing it all, and cawed loudly as it tried to stop the battle in and of itself.
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