Daemon looks up to where King Maegor sits with his Hand, Otto Hightower glowers at him. Daemon smiles with satisfaction.
When he tilts the lance upward, the favor slides down to the base. Daemon brings the wreath to his lips and kisses it, Charlotte giggles.
Alicent stylishly rolls her eyes distastefully and shook her head.
Rhaenyra looks at her best friend who is blushing. She is somewhat jealous her uncle didn't ask for her favor, yet she lets it go, slightly shifts in her seat, trying to keep an upfront as the Master of Revels annonces the next combatants.
All of this display deeply amuses King Maegor, but his mind was crowded with Mellario, all he wants is for her to have safe delivery and give him an heir or an heiress.
it appears today will be a good day. Lances shatter and shields shiver as the first day of the tournament waxes on Lord Boremund Baratheon is dragged out of the mud by his squire and pages, too senseless to move under his own power as is another Baratheon knight, too dumb to focus.
The victor, a knight in plain steel armor named Ser Criston Cole, a fine man in his mid twenties, finds his place in the lane to ride in the joust against his next opponent.
Rhaenyra waves over Ser Harrold, her protector knight.
"What do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?"
Alicent's ears pecks up intently as Ser Harrold crouched down beside her.
"I have been asking the same thing, princess. I'm told Ser Criston is common-born, the son of Lord Blackhaven's steward. Other than that, and the fact that he has now unhorsed both the Baratheon lads, I could not say." Ser Harrold narrates and stands up.
"Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!" The Master of Revels declares.
Rhaenyra cannot wait to see this one. She walks down to the guard-rail at the front of the royal box to watch, Charlotte follows her down, craning her neck to see.
Alicent scoffs and beckons a servant as she takes a cup of wine from the platter, it seems her sister and princess Rheanyra are inseparable friends, a bond Charlotte and her don't share.
On the field, Daemon and Ser Criston Cole ride into position. The knights charge one another. Daemon breaks his lance against the stout knight in the simple steel armor.
But Daemon is the one sent flying from his mount. He peels himself up off the ground and signals to his squires. One of them collects is Valyrian steel: Dark Sister and carries it out to him in the scabbard, offering it hilt first.
"Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a melee!" The Master of Revels declares.
The crowd roars as Ser Criston obliges Daemon. He discards his broken lance and dismounts his horse.
Daemon draws Dark Sister, revealing a bold pattern of Valyrian steel rippling down the blade. The squire then carries the scabbard away.
But Ser Criston has no squire. So he must run and fetch his own weapon, a morningstar, shuffling around the sandy ground while the crowd cheer. Daemon doesn't wait. He comes at him with Dark Sister.
Ser Criston moves quickly for a large knight. He evades Daemon's angry slash and comes around with the morningstar.
It snares Daemon's sword. Criston tears it from his grasp, disarming him. The sword sinks into the tourney mud.
"Yield!" Ser Criston tells the rogue prince in his defeat.
Unwilling to accept defeat, Daemon lunges for Dark Sister.
YOU ARE READING
To Love A King || Maegor Targaryen
Fantasy"Monster, Tyrant, Cruel and Ruthless, they whisper behind my back, but when I say 'I love you', it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kind...
