-Chapter 183-
-POV Aemon Targaryen-
Once Gunthor brought Laenor down, Bryndon tried to get back up, but he was hit from behind and sent crashing to the ground by my new knight, Hugh Hammer.
Bryndon, unable to continue the fight, was left behind once he signaled his surrender.
The two others then changed targets to assist Jason Lannister, who was under pressure from the two remaining groups.
Though they suffered heavy losses, these groups still outnumbered the knights from the Westerlands.
The suspense didn't last long, for once Hugh and Gunthor entered the fray, the two of them wreaked havoc, prompting the knights to surrender one after another, choosing to save their lives and avoid needless injuries that could ruin their future for a meager reward.
"It's a complete victory for us," I said calmly.
I was very pleased to have won this competition without involving the Ironborn or the Northerners in this minor conflict, meant to further cement my domination in everyone's mind.
"This madness is finally about to end," said Laena with a sigh of relief, seeing that Laenor—although badly battered by Gunthor—had escaped this snake pit unharmed.
"I'll send for the alchemist Lin Zhi so he can assess his condition," I whispered into my wife's ear, who looked at me softly before taking my hand in hers and gently squeezing it.
It was a simple gesture, yet I could feel nearly every emotion she tried to convey through that touch.
The gratitude she felt toward me for trying to help her brother, despite his stubbornness in choosing a path opposite to ours.
Her apologies for her behavior throughout the melee.
And all the love we felt for each other.
I gently squeezed her hand in return, and as I saw Jason Lannister retreat and forfeit, I stood up to speak, now that the melee was over:
"On this third day of celebration, I declare that the winner of the Battle of the Six Kingdoms is the Vale, led by none other than the Captain of my Personal Guard and Lord Commander of the Order of the Bronze Shields."
That was all it took for the crowd to erupt in cheers and cries, applauding the victors of the melee.
I waited a moment, then raised my arms and held still until they quieted down to announce something else:
"For the first time in the history of the realm, the people of King's Landing will have the chance to take part in the next challenge."
I paused to give more weight to my words, then continued in a loud voice so all could hear:
"And under the grace of House Targaryen, all costs of the tournament will be covered by me and me alone. If you have the skills of an archer and believe you can rank among the best in the realm, then good luck to you."
Numerous murmurs rose up, making the arena noisy again.
The guards all around struck their spears on the ground at the captain's command, silencing the crowd, for I had not finished.
After a few seconds of watching the crowd hang on my every word, I concluded:
"The rewards will match the glory of House Targaryen, for the top 1,000 archers in the tournament will each have a chance to walk away with at least one gold dragon in their pocket."
To the wealthy nobles, it meant little. But to the common folk, a gold dragon sometimes represented an entire year of hard labor.
Everyone was speechless, for not only had I opened the tournament to all, but I had also announced there would be no fees.
I struck while the iron was hot and added:
"The winner will receive the modest sum of 10,000 gold dragons. The runner-up will walk away 5,000 dragons richer. Third place will claim 2,500 dragons. From 4th to 10th place, each will earn 100 gold dragons. And for the next 1,000 participants, House Targaryen will reward them with between 1 and 10 gold coins depending on their rank."
An even louder cheer than before rang out, because unlike the squires—clearly above the rest in their own tournament—archery was a skill far more accessible to the common people.
'Even more so in King's Landing, den of poachers,' I thought, already familiar with the black markets where prey from the Kingswood was smuggled into the city.
'Applaud me, love me, fear me. Once this is all over, you will all be conscripted into the army that will put down the fanatics riled up by the Hightowers,' I thought, already initiating the early stages of my future army's recruitment before everyone's eyes.
---
-POV Laenor Velaryon-
"Prince Consort," said an old voice I immediately recognized, still bearing an exotic accent despite the many years he had spent in service to my arrogant brother-in-law.
"Mestre Lin," I replied out of habit, though...
"I am not a mestre. I believe I've repeated that often enough," said the old Lin.
I gave him a rare smile, for he was one of the wisest and kindest people I had ever had the honor of speaking with.
'He's given me many good pieces of advice,' I thought, remembering those days.
'Even if I didn't always choose to follow them,' I also recalled.
"Laena sent you, didn't she?" I asked, frowning. Though I loved my sister with all my heart, her constant blindness to her husband's needlessly provocative and hostile behavior toward me and my daughter was beginning to dig a serious rift between us.
A rift that would only grow if she couldn't stop him from continuing down this path.
"My master and mistress wish to see you fully recovered," he said politely, letting me know that Aemon was behind this move.
Instantly, I felt the heat of the humiliation I had just suffered before all the lords of the realm, and the anger I had buried deep inside me came surging back.
I stood, determined not to accept Aemon's pity, and declared:
"I don't need help. I'm perfectly fine. I'll be examined by a real mestre once I return to the Red Keep."
The alchemist Lin tried to say something, but I gave him no chance.
Even without knowing what he wanted to say, I knew I wouldn't like it and that I would disagree with him… even though he was probably right.
Seeing Qarl waiting for me, I said nothing and climbed onto my horse, doing my best not to show the pain I felt.
I didn't know if my right arm was completely ruined, but it hurt constantly, and I couldn't bend it without feeling a blinding pain.
"Are you alright, my Prince?" Qarl asked with a strange look.
I nodded without a word and trotted forward, not paying him much attention, as we often had little disputes about how many people I shared my favors with.
Watching the massive procession and the crowd waving at the countless carriages passing on the main road, I signaled Qarl to follow, and we took the shortcuts leading to the Red Keep.
Along the way, I couldn't stop thinking about what I would say to Viserys, and about the next humiliation I would suffer—once again—at the hands of the same person.
'After this, if you keep harassing us, I swear by all the gods that may exist, we will fight to the death,' I thought, determined to protect my daughter's rights from all the vultures who would try to seize them.
'Even from the husband of my sis—'
I suddenly felt something pierce through my back.
Lowering my gaze, I saw the tip of a sword stabbing through my abdomen, staining my navy-blue tunic with a dark reddish-brown.
"Forgive me."
I turned, stunned, and met the tear-filled eyes of my lover.
The only thing I could utter was:
"Why?"