Chapter 14
MAEKAR TARGARYEN
The Sun had set, and the fires had been lit as the final bout extended to over sixteen tilts. It was as grand as a bout could get, as Lyonel Baratheon and his nephew came at each other with all that they had to offer.
Matarys was only a third of the age of the Baratheon, and yet age mattered little when it came to matters of talent, and Maekar had not seen a man as driven as the boy. He could tell, for he had been the one to train him for six years.
Baelor had trusted him with his son, and though it was a sign of prestige, his brother could have done him no greater disservice than sending his youngest to Summerhall. Four sons he had raised, and each of them had been a greater disgrace than the other.
He was their father, and yet their faults were there for him to see and suffer every day. Daeron drowned himself in his cups, as he told tales of Dragon dreams. Aerion was a cruel and bitter boy, and Aemon was as useless a boy as he had ever seen.
His youngest was not so different and was an unruly child who refused to listen to anyone. Compared to them, Matarys had been what he had always sought.
Quiet. Polite. Hardworking. Kind. And talented. In many ways, his nephew was Baelor come again, and though he felt proud of the boy, his presence was a constant reminder of his own fallings.
Matarys had his mother's features, yet Maekar only ever saw his brother in him. He had pushed the boy hard, out of spite or expectations even he did not know. But he had pushed him hard. Far harder than he had done so for his sons, and yet the boy had risen to the occasion every time.
Just as he rose to the occasion against the Baratheon lord and unhorsed him. Even the Crowd had no desire to see a melee, but the laughing storm was not one to give up as he brandished his sword with his other hand.
"Tch. He is like a vulgar whore," he whispered to his brother, and he could spot the proud smile on his face as his brother twisted his ring, and the tension had now left his shoulders.
"There is no way he lasts more than a few minutes against your son, fighting with that hand," and Baelor leaned back in his chair, as Matarys brandished his own sword and the two began to circle one another.
"Well, at least we must commend him for his courage," and the Laughing Storm swung down his blade, but Matarys was quick to dodge it, as he began to toy around with the man.
He could have rushed in for an attack, yet he went on the defensive as Maekar rolled his eyes.
"He is too cautious," and he drowned his cup, and settled himself in his seat as he prepared himself for the end of the day.
"He should just end it now," Maekar uttered, and he had grown tired of the spectacle, and his mind still whirred with the humiliation he had been forced to suffer because of his own son.
There were no rules against what Aerion had done, yet the boy had behaved in a manner wholly unfitting for a knight and a Prince. He would have been even more angry and disappointed if he had not gotten used to their failings, and the other two who had come here were no different.
He turned his head and spotted the two empty seats beside him meant for Daeron and Aegon, as Matarys parried a strike and came in closer.
"He is going to end this now," Baelor whispered with a proud smile, and he was right. He had used the time to recuperate some of his strengths, and so he pushed in with his shoulder and then kicked the Baratheon's lord's leg. He tried to swing from the side, but he had predicted this, and swung down at his arm, and the sword fell out of Lyonel Baratheon's hands.
CLANK!
"ROARRRRRR!" and with a final shove, the man was down as Matarys put his word on his neck.
"YIELD!" the words shook the arena, as Maekar sighed in relief and some pride.
"Finally, the day is over," and the crowd was thundering, as they began to clap for the two fighters. The boy offered the laughing storm a hand, and the man took off his helm, and raised his nephew's hand up in the air.
"YEAHHHHH!" and he saw them talking to one another, and then, with a final showing, the boy walked up to the platform, and bent the knee.
"A great showing, my son," Baelor added, and Matarys nodded.
"You could have ended it a bit earlier. I am starving," Maekar cut in, briskly as the boy chuckled.
"You need not worry for food now, my Prince," Lord Ashford added from the side.
"Such a good showing deserves a grand feast," he added, and the plump man had some sense then, and usually such things were often prepared for the final days of the jousting, but he could not fault him for his acts, for it was as grand a day as it could be.
They would hardly see a repeat of the spectacle from today.
"The preparations have already been made," and the young girl, beside him, came to the front.
"You have done a great service, my Prince. I am grateful for your efforts in defending my honor," and Matarys nodded, as he rose to his feet.
"I shall honor your favor to the best of my abilities, my lady. Though you will have to spare me a dance today, for I can barely stand as it is," and the girl blushed, as they all rose and the heralds rang their horns.
"AND THE FIRST DAY NOW COMES TO A CLOSE!" and then he began to speak of all the bouts of the day, but the stands began to empty out as a few stable boys rushed to help Matarys to his pavilion.
Sixteen tilts would tire anyone, and this was his second match of the day. No doubt he would be rather sore and would only join them later as Lord Ashford and his men led them to a Hall.
"There was no need for this, my lord," Baelor added, as he walked beside the man.
"After such a showing. A feast seemed rather necessary," the man answered, as he turned towards him.
"Wouldn't you agree, my Prince?" and Maekar did not answer as an awkward silence filled the Hall, as they were led to the Great Hall. Tables had been set, and servants buzzed around the place, and a grand table had been set for them already.
"May I go and help Matarys?" he asked, as Baelor gave his son a nod.
"Bring him here as soon as he is ready. He should not miss a feast being held in his honor," and the eldest nodded, and rushed back as Baelor turned towards him after a searching gaze.
"Where are your sons?" Baelor asked as they were led to their seats, and offered bowls of water and cloths to dry and wash their hands.
"I couldn't care less where they are," he answered, and Baelor did not say anything.
"I would say it is good for their sake that they are not here," for at least in their absence, he did not have to think and ponder over their failures.
"Should I send Ser Donnel for them?" and he shook his head.
"Let them be. It is better that I not set my eyes on them right now," and Baelor saw through his mood and nodded as the Hall began to fill in.
And once the Hall was full, Lord Ashford rose from his chair and raised his goblet.
"TO THE PRINCE!" he said, and the Hall roared with him.
"YEAHHH!" and then they began to dine, and they dived in, and it was not every day that a Prince of the realm came into such a castle. The food was good at least, and Maekar let his hunger contort his judgement, and it was some half an hour later that Valarr returned, along with his brother.
"YES!" and Matarys was here, and as expected, the men roared at his coming. The boy took small steps, and water still dripped from his head, and of all his habits, his bathing was one of the strange ones.
The boy was prone to drowning himself daily, and it seemed as if he could not stop himself from a quick rinse before coming here. Valarr walked beside his brother, and after a quick glance, Maekar turned his eyes to his food again.
"You are late," Baelor added, as he turned towards his sons.
"I needed to wash myself. I was drenched in sweat," the boy answered, as he drowned his cup, and Baelor said nothing more as the boy began to turn his head around, and he had yet to take a bite when he turned towards him.
"Where are Daeron and Aerion?" he asked, and Maekar shrugged dismissively.
"I hardly care," he answered, and for some reason, the boy's eyes narrowed.
"But I told Daeron...," and Maekar frowned at his words.
"We should have them here," and he turned towards his father first and then the Kingsguard.
"Let them be," he cut in before Baelor could issue a command.
"I have suffered enough of them today," he cut in as he sipped his wine, and the boy seemed hesitant and restless as he turned his eyes to his food. So, the feast continued, and then the mummers began to play, but just as the first song was about to begin, a bunch of guards rushed into the Great Hall.
"Your grace! Your grace," and the entire Hall grew silent, as two guards rushed into the place, and Matarys was out of his chair before they had even said their words.
"My lord, you need to hear of this..."
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