-Chapter 173-
-POV Aegon Targaryen-
'What is happening right now?' I asked myself as I saw an entire team of fighters coming straight at me with the clear intent to fight.
I frowned, but didn't have time to think before I felt Cregan push me.
I didn't even have time to understand why Cregan had pushed me so suddenly when a blade lightly grazed the back of my helmet.
Eyes wide, feeling death's breath on my well-protected neck, I tried to regain my balance, but it was already too late — a crowd was heading our way.
'Some of them look like allies,' I thought, seeing a few squires block the attackers' path.
A squire about ten years older than me threw himself at me and kicked me in the chest with the flat of his foot, knocking me to the ground.
I looked up at him, unable to move, just watching him raise his sword over me, and just as he was about to strike the killing blow, I saw the tip of a blade pierce through his throat.
'He should've picked a helmet that protects, not one that looks good,' I thought, as my mind drifted needlessly into trivial thoughts.
The sword didn't stay more than a second in the assassin's throat.
I grabbed my sword again, feeling the man drop to his knees and his blood spray across my helmet and face, painting it bright red.
'What the hell is going on?' I wondered, unable to understand why everyone suddenly wanted me dead.
I barely made out a hand reaching toward me to help me get back up.
"Take my hand, my Prince."
I squinted as the blood was starting to blur my vision, and just as I was about to take Cregan's hand, I was surprised — it wasn't Cregan's voice.
'I've heard that voice somewhere before,' I thought, trying to open my eyes wider to identify the figure who had come to my rescue.
"What's your name, friend?" I asked, still unable to recall my savior.
"Aegon, focus!!" Cregan shouted, clearly wounded since the very beginning of the melee.
'He must've gotten hurt while trying to save me,' I thought.
I frowned, because Cregan was Aemon's protégé and the Warden of the North — and only one person could've convinced common squires to attack us like this during a mere tournament.
'Rhaenyra,' I thought, clenching my teeth in rage, because no matter what I thought of her or our family before today…
'After this, everything changes forever,' I thought, furious she had tried to have both me and Cregan killed.
I removed my helmet, as I couldn't see clearly anymore, then pulled off my right gauntlet and wiped the blood from my face so I wouldn't trade it for sand.
Then, once I opened my eyes again and my vision returned to normal, I saw the protective circle that had formed around me.
Dozens of squires wearing the colors and sigils of the Reach, and even some with a stag, were fighting with all their strength to protect me.
On the other side, most of the squires wore sigils from the Crownlands, and especially the Riverlands.
I looked toward my father's royal box to see what side he would choose, but as usual, he did nothing.
No one moved, despite the blatant attack I was under.
No one seemed ready to defend me.
'Then be ready to die, because I won't go down without a fight,' I thought, putting my helmet back on, furious and determined to make them regret becoming Rhaenyra's lapdogs.
I quickly slipped to the side of a squire bearing the Blackwood sigil, and with no effort at all, sliced through the back of his unprotected knee before pulling a dagger from my back.
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
I ignored the cry of pain as he reacted to the cut, then plunged my sword into the sand.
I raised his head with a skilled but cold gesture, and then slowly slit his throat for all to see.
The fighting briefly stopped, everyone stunned to see me slit the throat of a squire several years older than me so easily — but it lasted only a moment. The battle resumed with twice the fury.
The action, which I had imagined would shock the squires who probably hadn't seen real blood yet, didn't have much of an impact on the rest of the "battle."
'At least not the one I wanted it to have,' I thought, watching as the bloodshed only escalated.
On both sides, I had lit a fire in their hearts.
On my side, the squires seemed far more combative after seeing their "leader" fight and triumph, while on the other, a fire of vengeance — and pride — was beginning to burn in their eyes.
I grabbed my sword in a rush as I saw a squire charging at me, then raised my guard to block the blade of another squire—one whose sigil I knew was from the Riverlands, though I couldn't recall the exact House—who was ready to slice my throat.
'Must be from a minor House,' I thought, gritting my teeth to absorb the hit and redirect the force to the right before kicking his knee, hoping to bring him down.
Unfortunately, it didn't work. He was much taller—and more massive—than me.
'What kind of idiot signs up for a tourney like this at my age?' I thought, cursing myself for being so arrogant to believe I was stronger than everyone.
Even if I had better sword skills, in a fight to the death, they all had one huge advantage they weren't shy to use.
'A fucking better body and a fucking suit of armor that keeps me from hitting their weak points,' I told myself as I took a punch to the jaw. My helmet flew off from the blow.
In my rush earlier, I hadn't fastened it properly.
'And now I'm paying the price,' I thought, dazed by the hit.
I blinked several times, the sunlight blinding me while the dust kicked up from the fighting made me cough.
I staggered back, feeling like the world was spinning, but I stopped myself by jamming my sword into the ground like a cane so I wouldn't collapse.
"AEGON!!"
As soon as I heard Cregan shout, I understood he was warning me about an incoming blow, so I threw myself to the ground with all my strength—and felt a gust of air brush past my right ear.
My heart pounded.
I had dodged death again.
It was the first day of my life I truly faced death—and I'd escaped not once, but twice.
'I need to run,' I thought, crawling away in panic, terrified of dying.
'One day you'll be in a fight where you're scared to die. If you turn your back to your enemy, you've already lost.'
My cousin's words echoed through my skull.
I froze for a moment before shame and pride surged up from deep inside me—because I was crawling on all fours like a damn coward.
'I'm not a coward,' I told myself as I heard someone yelling behind me.
Sensing the cry meant a killing blow was coming, I rolled to the side.
All of my cousin's lessons came back to me in an instant.
I got back on my feet like a cat, and with a quick glance I saw the guy had just stabbed his sword into the spot where I was seconds earlier.
'You won't always be stronger than your enemy. But your enemy always has a weakness. The faster you find it, the faster you win.'
'I found your weakness, motherfucker,' I screamed in my head, letting out a roar as I slammed my dagger straight into his unprotected balls.
"Aaaaah," the squire cried, his scream fading as he dropped his hands to his bleeding crotch. I twisted the blade, and he dropped to his knees.
I grimaced as I pulled the dagger out and then drove it into his neck.
He had dropped to the perfect height for a clean kill.
I didn't spare a second glance at his corpse and quickly grabbed my sword again.
I rushed toward Cregan, who was fending off multiple attackers but holding his own thanks to Ice.
'Thank the gods Aemon insisted on using real weapons for this tourney,' I thought.
Without real blades, I wouldn't have made it through, and Cregan would already be dead without that sword keeping them at bay.
I tried to attack one of the squires bearing House Vance's sigil from behind, but he moved away at the last second and smacked me on the temple with his pommel.
I dropped to my knees, cursing myself for forgetting to put my helmet back on, and forced myself to stand.
The world was spinning again, and just as I was about to fall, Cregan pressed his back to mine, buying me a second to breathe and keeping the others from striking us down in that opening.
"Take the one on the left. His sword's badly damaged. With yours, you can break it in a few hits," he said.
I nodded, half-dazed, and Cregan spoke more sternly:
"Stop charging in like a dumbass. This isn't a tourney anymore. Got it?"
"I got it," I said, annoyed with myself.
I couldn't see him, but I was sure he nodded.
As soon as I felt his back—where I'd just been leaning—pull away, I immediately struck the squire on my left, focusing hard on his damaged sword just like Cregan said.
"Aaaaah… Kill that pagan dog!" one of Cregan's attackers shouted.
I smirked, wondering which part of that bastard had just gotten cut clean off.
"Yes!" x6
My smile vanished immediately. I frowned, hearing how many voices had just answered that bastard's cry.
I forced my opponent into a defensive stance until he stumbled back, still targeting his weapon, and I finally broke it.
That gave me a chance to glance back and see the mess Cregan was in.
And there he was—facing seven opponents.
One of them was clutching what used to be his left hand, clearly wounded, but the rest surrounded him, waiting for any mistake.
'Even with a Valyrian steel blade, there's no way he makes it out,' I thought, abandoning my current fight to go help my best friend.
Looking around, I saw many of the Reach's squires had already fallen, while others were still fighting.
'And a few squires are dead,' I thought, casting a glance toward the royal box—still no sign anyone intended to stop this bloodbath.
'Do they all want me dead?' I wondered, unable to grasp why everyone was letting this happen without saying a word.