Dance of The Dragonwolf

A Tourney of Sacrifice

Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of Dance of The Dragonwolf.

If you want to Read 15 More Chapters Right Now. Write 'www.Patreon.com/Drinor' in the web search.

Chapter 39 (Words are like an Arrow), Chapter 40 (Viserys's Decision),  Chapter 41 (Aenar's Answer), Chapter 42 (You Will Doom Us All), Chapter  43 (The First Cry of War), Chapter 44 (Revenge is a dish best served  Cold), Chapter 45 (Dragons and Snakes), Chapter 46 ('You are not  Loved'), Chapter 47 (Rhaenyra's Rage), Chapter 48 (Spread your Wings),  Chapter 49 (A Falling Dragon), Chapter 50 (Even Eyes Can Lie), Chapter 51 (A Crying Dragon), Chapter 52 (Tears of a Dragon), and Chapter 53 (I Wish We Had More Time) are already available for  Patrons.

The Link is in my Profile

Aenar tightened the straps around his armor as the squires saddled his horse and readied his lance. The horns outside his tent blew away for the first round of jousting. The crowds cheered as two knights charged toward one another, their lances aimed low and their shields raised high.

Putting on the last of his shoulder plates, Aenar called to the two. "Breastplate," he ordered, extending his arms, and Cregan quickly put the front and back plates on his chest, tightening them on both sides simultaneously.

He heard the sound of gasps amongst the audience, and Cregan let out a gasp at the sight of the man's destroyed leg; the horse had fallen on top of him. Those who worked in the Arena quickly ran to help him as he screamed for help.

"First time seeing something like this?" Aenar asked with concern, pointing at the man who was being dragged away; once his leg was free from the horse, they could see the blood had turned the cheap armor he word into red; the man screamed as they pulled out his helmet; because of the fall, his right cheek was torn and bleeding.

"No. Last year, there were six executions, and my father passed the sentence. Muna wasn't happy, but in the end, he took me with him to watch." Cregan explained, his eyes glued on what was happening in the Arena; the poor knight was dragged out of the Arena, screaming and crying, with a trail of blood following him.

"Did you look away?" Aenar asked intently, remembering when Bran had been in a similar position. He was sure he would have looked away if it wasn't for Robb and himself being there.

"No. It happened very fast. That was until Degory started kicking the head around like it was a ball, I puked right away, but my father was still proud of me, saying when he had first seen someone being executed, he had dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes." Cregan answered, sounding proud of himself.

"My first time seeing someone die was when I was five name days, this bandit attacked us, and father cut him in half." Aenar added, remembering the incident from his previous life. Instead of his Father, it had been Ser Rodrik.

Another horn blew as the match from the current jousters finished.

Finally, he put on his gauntlets, buckled his sword to his belt, and put on his helmet. Fully armored now, his horse Fire neighed. The girl was undoubtedly as restless to get this over with as he was. She was a feisty horse.

Taking the lead of his horse in his hand, Aenar signaled Cregan to follow him. "Come on, I won't want to keep the people waiting." As soon as he said so, another pair of horns sounded off, and the hooves of two horsemen quickly became drowned out by the cheers and expectations of the crowd.

Standing at the edge of the jousting grounds, Aenar and his little squire watched the spectacle unfold. Some new Vale knight was up next, a bright and haughty-faced boy who looked to have just come out of his childhood years, with his shiny bright armor hanged a crescent white moon in a field of blue.