SovereignOfHeaven
patreon
Raiden's Storm Chapter 71: Revelation
🕑 Added 2024-07-02 13:44:41 +0000 UTC[Edric’s POV]
Now, I don't know how great Daemon Blackfyre’s dance with Gwayne Corbray had been in person, but this had to come pretty close. The only diminishing factors were that it wasn't a true battle and was shorter. The flame of their steel was a sight to behold.
There was no doubt in my mind that it was the finest duel I had witnessed, and I'm sure many present would agree.
After hearing what would probably be his last words for the day, I looked back.
“Maester Gormon, attend to Ser Arthur at once.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The blue cloaks gathered on the other side, picking up Valaegor. I took both Valyrian Steel swords, resting Nightfall with Arthur and keeping Lady Forlorn for Lyn Corbray. I'd give it back, of course.
“I'm sure you're pleased with the result, even if Arthur had given it to your foe.”
“I asked him to defeat him with Lady Forlorn, though that saying can have two meanings.”
“So Arthur hadn't lied to you, after all.” I chuckled.
“Indeed. He is a valiant knight of honour, allowing his opponent to fight on equal grounds where it might not suit his advantage. Perchance he had taught the foreigner a thing or two in their clash.”
It was a reckless move, I won't lie… but it worked out so I can't complain too much.
“Mayhaps he did.”
“Your Grace.” The tournament organiser approached me. “What shall be done with this duel? There is no clear victor, unless you count the man who fell to the ground first.”
“The victor shall be the person who can rise to face the Hound on the next day. For now, it is a tie.”
“Understood.”
…
Later in the night.
“So, the man who rises tomorrow shall be victor?” Valaegor looked like he had seen better days, laying in a bed beside Rhaerra, who had patched him up. “It seems that I am sleeping soundly for a day.”
“I never took you for a man who gives up so easily.”
“I should have lost to Ser Arthur. No… I did lose. Any duel where I am left on the ground, unable to rise, is a defeat for me.”
“You fell second. Besides, Ser Arthur likely won't be fighting any duels for a while. Will you leave the Hound to fight air in his final match of this tournament?”
“Always one for the dramatics.”
“You’re the one talking.” Rhaerra chuckled. “That speech about… poorly-baked pie, was it? I wanted to throw knives at you for doing something so foolish, arrogant and impulsive.”
“Hahahaha, that would've been quite the sight.”
Valaegor felt pain in his stomach from laughing, though it did not dim his smile.
“Aye, your corpse full of knives would've been. Half the Realm will bear distaste for me entirely because of your actions.”
“You're no stranger to winning enemies over.” Valaegor shrugged with a clueless expression. “You'll be fine.”
“...”
“You know I am a man who acts with my heart first - a heart that was writhe with anger at that time.”
“You ought to act with your head instead.”
“I do not regret any of my actions, however.” Valaegor closed his eyes. “Our clash was as much a duel as it was an exchange of souls. I understood what drove him, what gave light to his fire… yes, I was fighting on the wrong side all along.”
“...? I don't recall him bashing your head.”
“Once, I had thought that I was the Warrior of Light, the Son of Fire, Azor Ahai reborn…yet, on this day, I was humbled by His flames. I saw the light, the truth of the world. It was all in the fire. The Lord of Light chose to guide me when I was clouded by the darkness of my own pride.”
“Oh, the irony of this world. R’hllor’s mind could only truly be known to himself…”
Valaegor laughed at himself.
Rhaerra blinked, feeling as if Valaegor had gone mad from his defeat.
~
[Arthur’s POV]
The duel with Valaegor had taken every bit of strength he had. There was no way in Seven Hells he would be able to walk the tourney grounds anytime soon, let alone face the Hound. He had bitterly come to terms with that.
Edric would come to visit, playing a part in his treatment. He had keenly been guided by Maester Gormon, a new fascination of his.
“Another joust that you'll come to miss, eh?” Edric smiled, jestfully japing at him.
“At the very least, you will not.”
“You could've won if you pushed your advantage and never let him grasp Lady Forlorn.”
“It was foolish, I will not hide from that.” Arthur admitted, shaking his head. “Yet… my body moved on its own. It felt like the right thing to do.”
“Your impulses have to be the worst in the Seven Kingdoms.” Edric laughed, shaking his head. “You gave up the glory of winning this tournament for… an even duel with your foe?”
“If I fought only for glory, then I would've taken the prize for the seven-a-side melee.” He stopped, thinking of Brienne. “Life… is more than glory and tournament victories. Even if my opponent did not show honour to others, that did not mean that I had to lower myself to his standard.”
“This sense of honour better not risk others in an actual battle.” Edric remarked.
“A tournament and battle are two different things, Your Grace.” Arthur shook his head. “With Nightfall enflamed, I have to be wary of where I cut and how deeply… that restraint does not exist in a battle. I would have severed him.”
“How fortunate for Valaegor.” Edric nodded. “Alright, I won't keep you. Get your rest… and don't worry about tomorrow.”
…
“Ser Loras?”
Arthur woke at a later time, observing the presence of one of his sworn brothers. He did not expect to see him here, let alone so soon.
“In truth… when His Grace raised you above me, I had thought that you were unworthy; that you had taken a seat meant for me.” Loras bore a strangely sincere expression. “I have never been more wrong in my life. On this day, I have seen the truth of this matter. The only person fit to lead the future of the Kingsguard forward is you, Ser Arthur.”
Arthur blinked as Loras Tyrell bent his knee and lowered his head.
“I plead that you forgive me for my arrogance and insolence. I went so far as to voice my falsehoods to others covertly. I... feel ashamed to have doubted both your ability and my King’s directive."
"I thought myself unworthy so you doing so isn't all that shocking. If anything, I expected it." Arthur smiled, shaking his head.
"Regardless of how you felt, I should have supported the decision steadfastly and given you confidence."
"It's all in the past, Ser Loras; we need not linger on it. All is forgiven."
"You are too forgiving, Serjeant." Loras Tyrell slowly rose to his feet, taking a deep breath. It had been the first time that he acknowledged his title. "I owe you a great debt of gratitude that I intend to repay earnestly."
"You can repay me by winning, Ser. Only one competition remains... and it is the greatest and most paramount of them all."
"I do not believe so, Serjeant. You've already taken the greatest victory. Though you have no champion's purses to show for it, you proved to be the best of all of us. That is worth more than any amount of gold."
Arthur smiled, feeling weary. "Mayhaps..."
"I... won't disturb your rest further. Gather your strength, Serjeant. I pray that the Gods grant you a swift recovery."
~
[Edric's POV]
It was the finals, and the Hound was locked in and ready. Though he had his fair share of injuries, they were nothing too serious. I couldn't say the same for Arthur or Valaegor, both of whom seemed to have given it their all the previous day.
In the worst-case scenario, the Hound will have no opponent, which might lead me to don my alternative armour for a little spectacle.
Alas... that would not happen.
Valaegor came onto the tourney grounds looking like a man one step away from the grave. He wore no armour except a shirt of mail - using his poleaxe as a walking stick of sorts. There was no way in Seven Hells he was going to put up any sort of fight.
He slowly turned to me, ignoring the Hound. His walk was awfully slow.
He stopped right before me.
"Your Grace." He lowered himself to his knees, looking up at me. "I pledge myself to you, in heart, soul and flame. My life is yours."
Did he hit his head a little too hard on his way down?
"I must decline."
"Even if you object, I shall steadfastly walk by your side from one end of the world to the other. From the brightest flames to the darkest depths, my fire shall light your path. It is my life's greatest duty, as a faithful servant to the Lord of Light, to champion for He who is Azor Ahai come again."
"Nothing short of death will halt me." He paused, shaking his head. "For even in death, R'hllor's flames will grant me the strength to rise again... and again... until my use to him is entirely ended."
Talk about the ultimate stalker...
"Well, aren't you determined?" I chuckled. "Almost everyone in my company despises you. Do you believe yourself to be worth the trouble?"
"I do."
"Hmph, you're quite amusing. Get off your knees and fight already."
"A fine command, my liege."
That was not a command, and I'm not your liege...
He rose to his feet and a thin layer of fire burst from his body. What kind of bullshit buff did R'hllor give this man? He grabbed his poleaxe and held it nearly with the same ease as he had done the day before, walking with confidence.
The fire soon left him, focusing on the blade of his poleaxe.
He seemed to have gained a second wind... or in this case, a second flame.
The Hound looked unsteady. The flames clearly gave him a lack of confidence.
Maybe I should've told him to fall to the ground and let the Hound beat him bloody...
On the other hand, the Hound needed to get over this fear. If he could - it would be a great triumph. Besides, there is no way Valaegor is at full strength. It must be half an act.
As the duel began, Valaegor was swinging in earnest and forcing the Hound on the backfoot. He looked like he wanted in part in those flames. Though, I hadn't ever seen them genuinely burn anything.
Valaegor managed to get a few good hits on the Hound, shifting the tides decisively in his favour. Though Valaegor was weaker and slower than ever before, the Hound's lack of decisiveness would win him the day at this rate.
The Hound is one of the bravest men I've ever known, and yet...
"Hound!" I rose from my seat, having seen enough. "What in Seven Hells are you so afraid of?! Those flames couldn't cook a fucking mutton chop, let alone your armour. Stop retreating like a damn coward and conquer your fears!"
"..." The Hound paused. He likely wanted to curse me out, yet... didn't. He focused on Valaegor, blocking his poleaxe with his white shield.
They began to duel in earnest, at last. The Hound began to push the attack, deflecting Valaegor's poleaxe with his shield and storming forward to give him a mighty blow on the knee with his warhammer.
Valaegor's knee bent, and he struggled to retreat in time.
What followed next was a thunderous blow to his right shoulder, forcing him to drop his poleaxe. Then the Hound swung a clean blow across the side of his face, dropping him to the ground. He bent down on top of him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, headbutting him with terrifying strength. Valaegor's head bobbled back, his nose bloodied and face terribly bruised.
The Hound clenched his right fist and winded it back, holding Valaegor still with his left.
And then... he just started whaling on him.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Again and again and again...
With each blow, the crowd cheered with glee as if the home team was scoring clutch bucket after clutch bucket. Well, in this case, it wasn't too far off.
"That's enough," I spoke, sitting back down. "You've won the day, Hound."
The Hound gave him one more punch for safe measure, albeit a lighter one. He rose from Valaegor's body, which looked like much of a corpse. That guy has to be made from titanium to take so much punishment...
"The champion of this Duelling Tournament and Sixth Competition is Sandor of House Clegane, His Grace's faithful Hound!"
Finally... my ass was getting itchy from sitting around all the time.
It's time I took to the field myself.
...
Meanwhile, in Arthur's room.
The Hound dropped half of his earnings on the table and left without a word, leaving the knight to his recovery.
~
The court was buzzing today, with the main event on the horizon. All the lords, ladies and knights seemed to be enjoying themselves. While I was having my pick of the food, Asha Greyjoy approached me.
"I've made my decision."
I grabbed a grape and had a bite. Tasted quite good. I turned to her with a slight smile. "And what did you decide?"
"To bend the knee and enter your service."
She did so, bending her knee beneath me.
"Good." I nodded, offering my hand. "You can rise now."
"That is all?"
"I trust that your words hold more meaning than your father's. If not, well... you're smart enough to know what I'm capable of."
I helped her up and patter her shoulder.
"I'll find you something to do after all is settled. For now, you can enjoy these festivities without fear of being a prisoner."
I chatted it up with Wyman Manderly and some other lords from the North. There hadn't been all that many, considering Robb's call to defend the Wall. Those closer to the Wall made the decision to fight for the Warden of the North and their lands rather than attend the tournament - a decision I more than respected.
I wanted to be up there too, but it would not look good if I dipped on Lord Harrold.
Briefly, I watched Tyrion Lannister putting Cersei's children to sleep. Though Cersei had not ever shown him any kindness, that did not stop him from treating his niece and nephew well. It was wholesome, in a way.
Personally, I tried to avoid speaking with them as it would be nothing short of awkward. I was the person who took their lives as prince and princess, the one who had a direct hand in their mother's death and father's exile to the Wall. Though they were entirely innocent, they had lost so much...
As such, I made sure that they were well fed, had access to proper education, clean and sizeable quarters and anything else a noble child would ever need. It was a small gesture that didn't cost me much, yet it was life-changing for them. Tyrion seemed to approve greatly of my way of handling the situation.
"You have a good and kind heart, Your Grace." Tyrion smiled as he approached me. "It is a small wonder why so many are eager to stand by your side. You have your father's gift, I believe. The gift to turn spared enemies into friends and fiercely loyal allies."
"It does not always work, this gift." I smiled, shrugging my shoulders. "Balon Greyjoy can attest to that."
"Balon was the greatest fool who has ruled the Iron Islands these past hundred years and his people suffered greatly for it. For the better, I'd think. The weeds must be removed to make way for the crops."
"Indeed... the Iron Islands wouldn't have been able to move so swiftly into a better direction if those strongly preaching of the old ways remained." I nodded. "It was a necessary sacrifice for the future."
"You are a truly terrifying child, Your Grace... I fear for the rest of the world when you fully mature."
Tyrion waved me goodnight, walking off.
I decided to retire to my bedchamber soon after, prepping the alternative armour Mr Targaryen had prepped for me. I decided to try it on and it fit me like a glove. The dragon-winged helmet, the spiked black gauntlets and sabatons, a dashing crimson cape with the black dragon at its centre and an entirely black breastplate.
I won't lie; I looked dripped out of my mind.
Even so... I preferred my armour.
'I am a Baratheon.'
I took off the helmet and put it down on my bed. Afterwards, I would remove the rest and store it in the Plane of Euthymia. Raiden looked at me, wondering where I got the armour from.
Suddenly, the world turned black and I found myself in a place resembling the actual Plane of Euthymia - alongside Raiden Shogun.
At the centre of it all stood Mr Targaryen himself, radiant flowers growing beneath him. His appearance was so silver it was practically shining. By comparison, he made Valaegor look awfully dull. As much as I didn't want to give him any props, that was just objectively true... he is a God, after all.
"Someone's feeling rebellious?"
"In truth, I believe your plan to be quite... extra. Why do I need to wear that silly armour to get others to face me at their best? You can snap your fingers and make that happen regardless."
"Hahahaha, what if I told you success would give you, say... fifteen points in the Rogue skill?"
"..."
Oh, that's a lot.
"Look at your face change!" He laughed, shaking his head. "You shameless experience goblin."
He looked at Raiden. "Oh, right, that's the first time we met face to face since I gave you that lecture. For what it's worth, you should thank Arthur Astley here for everything that happened. It was his desire that initially brought you here, after all."
She glanced at me.
The dreams were his doing, weren't they? The ones of my past, at the very least...
"Regardless, you don't need to wear that armour. Do as you will."
"So, the special reward is off the table?"
"Do you want it, hmm?"
"If it's worthwhile..." I replied, shrugging my shoulders.
"Here's the deal, you can't use hyper-focus in a single joust. Prove that you are not a fraud, and I will... hm... I will give you this!" He flicked his hands and smiled as a Raiden Shogun bodypillow appeared between his hands. "It's pretty soft, perfect for you. You can just feel your Shogun's boundless warmth-"
I raised my hand, and lightning surged out, thoroughly burning it.
"Not to your tastes?" He stroked his chin. "I can make a lingerie version, if that's more your style..."
"I don't know who you take me for, but I don't want a fucking bodypillow. At that point, I'd be more inclined to lose."
"You must be fun at parties..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Anyway, rest assured, the reward is not a bodypillow. However, it is related to your beloved. It will give her the freedom to support you in some sense and rebuild that broken bond you share."
He spread open his arms, looking around.
"Something quite like this."
I blinked and found myself back in my bedchamber.
Something quite like this...
