Chapter 22
Daeron had thought much about the matter, but in the end, he was forced to agree with Brynden Rivers. Baelor's son may be young, but he had accomplished more at his age than many Kings had in their entire lives.
The boy clearly had a certain uniqueness to him, and perhaps this unique and strange way was exactly what the family needed in a time where the Targaryen name was losing its worth with every passing day.
"So, you agree?" and he nodded to the Master of Whispers.
"Aye, I shall give the boy a seat on the Council," and he seemed genuinely happy, which was rare for the spymaster.
"He will serve us well," and Daeron nodded.
"I can only hope so," but then a servant came rushing into the Council chambers and whispered a disturbing message into his ears.
"What!"
.
.
.
0000
MAEKAR TARGARYEN
The Sun cut through the clouds, and the time for the trial drew near. The tourney stands were filled to the brim, but the mood was somber. The celebrations from a day ago were now all gone, and the small folk all stood still, for they knew that they were about to witness history.
With him and Daeron, they had needed only four more knights to gather the Seven needed for the trial, and the task had been more difficult than he had expected. Prince of blood, he may be, but few men had the courage to stand against Matarys after his display earlier in the tournament.
But more than that, all of them knew that Aerion's cause was unjust. Still, he had managed to gather the men needed, and now the trial was set to begin. The four men, from Cargyll, Old Town, Cider Hall, and Morrigen, all stood there clad in their armors as Maekar stood with his sons.
"I shall face Matarys," he added with a heavy heart, and Aerion scoffed.
"Do you have the heart for it?" and he drew in a long breath just so he may not hit him.
"I will do what is necessary," for he knew that Matarys was no different.
"Matarys has gathered himself a rather powerful host. Lyonel Baratheon is a beast, and the rest of them are all strong warriors as well. We will need to be very careful in how we deal with them all," and since Aerion had been the one to call for the trial, the challengers would be deciding on the first charge.
"Do you really think Matarys will have the courage to face you?" Aerion mocked, and unlike his son, Maekar had no doubt at all.
"I have no doubt," he answered, much to his son's frustrations, but he no longer cared about what he thought about it all.
"Fight hard," he said as he turned towards his two sons, as Daeron lowered his head.
"Do not embarrass me any more than you already have," he warned them, as he walked up to his horse and jumped up onto its saddle. He cast one last glance towards the stands and saw his brother sitting there on the platform with Lord Ashford and his daughter.
The girl had a pale face, and he did not envy her fortunes, for the celebration being held for her nameday had become a spectacle. Blood would be spilled today. Royal blood.
And no matter the victory, this shall be marked as a Dark day in the history of the Targaryen reign, and the fires were lit and the lances prepared. The ground was wet from the rain of last night, and the slippery grass would make for a complicated battlefield.
Nearly three dozen guards surrounded the stands to deter the common folk, and as he saw the Septon walk onto the field, he knew it was time.
He pulled on the reins of his horse as the Septon stood at the center of the field.
"Come," he said to the four knights who had pledged their lives to his cause.
"It is time," and they nodded and mounted their horses as they rode towards the edge of the clearing, just as Matarys and his men did the same on the other side. His nephew held his helmet in his hands, as the six knights flanked him on the sides.
He stood opposite to him, as the Septon made his prayer.
"Today we gather here in the name of the Seven!" the young Septon began his prayer as he eyed Matarys, who wore his dull black armor. It had been fashioned in his lands, and it had taken him years to find a smith who could produce what he had wanted.
"May they peer inside our mortal hearts and find the truth,"
The boy had cycled through a dozen sets of armor, and he could be rather picky about things. He wanted a dull steel, one that ate light, and his armor was dark, and his steel had no shine to it.
"May the warrior grant victory to the innocent, and reveal the guilty in their falseness," and only the rubies on the chest plate glistened slightly, and they were shaped in the form of a three-headed dragon.
"May death sustain life," and with that, the sermon was over, and the prayer was made.
He saw Matarys push ahead, as he covered half the field and stood face to face with him.
"Let me speak to you one last time before we draw our blades," and he spoke to Aerion, who rolled his eyes at him.
"Withdraw your accusations and accept your punishment for once steel is drawn, all our fates shall lie with the Stranger," and Aerion scoffed.
"Is that fear I smell?" Aerion mocked, and Matarys shook his head.
"Only kindness, cousin. But this is the last time you will see it, for once the horns are sung, you will face only my wrath, and the Gods' as well," and Aerion scoffed.
"We shall see about that," and so the decision was made, and he saw Matarys's face harden as he gave him a slight glance, and then turned around and rode to his companions as well.
Maekar turned towards his men as well and gave them his directions.
"Do not panic. Maintain formation," and they all nodded solemnly.
"Keep your mounts as long as you can," for without the mounts, one would make for an easier target.
"These men wish to see you dead. They will fight savagely," and many frowned.
"Even the Prince?" asked Ser Morrigen, and Maekar nodded easily.
"Matarys most of all," he answered.
"Do not expect any mercy from him on this field, for once he has drawn his blade, his sword will cut sharp and fast," and then his eyes looked over them all once more.
"All of you must have heard tales about him from the war. I can assure you, they are not just tales," and the words lay heavy.
"Look, one of them's emptied their gut," the Fossoway knight pointed to the opposite side, and the men laughed as Maekar turned his head and saw the tall knight emptying his stomach, as his men laughed at him.
"Greenboy," he whispered, as he pulled on his reins.
"Let us take our paces," and so they separated and took their positions. The stableboys came behind them, and they were handed their lances, and just as he had expected, Matarys stood opposite to him.
They gazed straight at one another until they both put on their helmets, and the world around them turned dark at once. He could barely make out the battlefield now, and the hot breath hit his own face as he grabbed the lance with all his might.
The herald put the horn to his mouth, as Maekar grasped the reins with all his might.
TUUUUUUUUUU!
And he was the first to ride ahead, just like his nephew. Their horses broke into a stride quickly, as they outpaced the men around them in a few seconds. He pulled up his shield and adjusted his lance as Matarys rode close to him.
And then just as they were about to cross one another Maekar aimed the lance at his chest, yet he had anticipated his move and much pushed his lance aisde with his shield and rather than aiming for his chest, Matarys chose to strike his shield hard.
"AGHHHHH!" he heard him roar, and the lance struck hard, and Maekar tried to hold onto the reins, but could not.
"HUGH!" and he slipped out of the saddle, as his lance slipped out of his hand, and his back hit the ground. He found himself staring at the open skies.
"AGHHHHH!" and pain tore through his back, but Maekar knew that he could not rest, and so he pushed himself back up. His hands and feet slipped on the wet ground as he struggled to gain a footing, but in the end he was able to push himself back up as carnage filled the land around him.
He could hear screams and wails, yet he had no time to look around, for by the time he had stood back up, Matarys had turned around his mount and was heading towards him once more.
He could not use his mace yet, and so he picked up his lance and pushed his feet into the ground as Matarys rode towards him, and it pained him to do this, but this was battle, and sometimes victory required a certain level of savagery.
It was dishonorable to attack a mount, but honor was for tournies only. A battlefield had little place for honor, and so he roared as he pushed up the lance at his mount.
"AGHHHH!" and the lance hit true, as it pierced through the steel plates covering its neck, and struck its neck.
"NEIGHHH!" it tore through the horse's neck, and hit Matarys's shield and pushed him off, as the mount's blood showered over him, but he had little time to attack as the beast slipped and hit him and sent him flying back.
And once more, Maekar found himself on the ground, and his shield was gone now, and his hands slipped in the mud again as he tried to push himself out from under the horse.
Thankfully, the muddy ground had cushioned the fall, and he had managed to survive and so he wiggled his leg from under the horse as horses ran past him, and lances broke around him.
Stench of blood, dirt, and death filled the air as he pulled himself out and rose to his feet once more. Opposite to him, Matarys was on his feet as well, blade drawn, walking towards him.
He had seen such a sight many a time in his own yard now, but this was different. His eyes were heavy, and the boy's conviction seemed strong.
Still, they circled one another before Maekar stepped forward and swung down his mace at his helmet, but the boy managed to push up his shield just in time as metal struck metal and the whole arena screamed out his name.
"MATARYS!" "MATARYS!" "MATARYS!"
0000
As always, you can read ahead and support me through my Patre 0n. Your support and patr 0nage are what make all this possible. So, drop a sub if you can. It would help me out quite a bit.
www.Patre 0n.com/Drkest
Have a fantastic day!