ASOIAF: The Dragon Seed

The Melee

Driftmark buzzed with anticipation as the tourney approached. Annatar had spent the last three years training under Lord Corlys Velaryon, forging himself anew in the absence of Daemon. Daemon's sudden departure to Pentos with Laena Velaryon had left Annatar with a gaping hole—a sense of abandonment that had weighed on him like a heavy chain. But, under the Sea Snake's watchful eye, he had grown sharper, stronger, and far more resilient. If Daemon had taught him the heat of battle, Corlys taught him its discipline and wisdom, shaping him into a formidable young warrior.

Now sixteen and determined to prove himself, Annatar prepared to enter the upcoming tournament as a mystery knight, concealing his identity behind a polished helm gifted by Corlys. The tourney would be his proving ground, his chance to claim his own place in the world—beyond being Daemon's protégé.

As Annatar stood before Corlys, the lord studied him with a discerning eye. He could see the fire in the boy's gaze, the hard edges that time and hardship had carved into him.

Corlys:
"You've come far since those days on the Stepstones, lad. Are you certain about fighting as a mystery knight? This is your chance to make a name for yourself."

Annatar nodded, his expression unwavering.

Annatar:
"Yes, Lord Corlys. I want to prove that I'm worthy, not because of anyone else, but on my own."

Corlys allowed a small smile to touch his lips, a rare expression from the usually reserved Sea Snake.

Corlys:
"Then fight with honor, Annatar. A knight's worth is not in his name but in his deeds. Driftmark will watch with pride."

With that, Corlys placed a hand on Annatar's shoulder and handed him a helm—a beautifully crafted piece with intricate designs, one he himself had worn as a younger man.

Corlys:
"Wear this as a reminder that you are not alone. Whatever happens, know that you have a place here, and you have earned your place by your own merit."

Annatar accepted the helm with a bow, humbled by the weight of Corlys's words. He would carry those words with him into the tourney field.

Driftmark's tourney grounds buzzed with excitement, the salt-tinged air alive with the sounds of clinking armor and cheering spectators. Noble families and smallfolk alike had gathered from across the realm, eager to witness the spectacle of knights from all corners of Westeros competing. Among them was the mystery knight, his polished helm glinting under the sun, concealing his identity but drawing curious glances. Annatar took a deep breath, steeling himself as his name was called for the first match.

[First Match: Annatar vs. Ser Meryn Waters]

Ser Meryn Waters—a broad-shouldered knight known for his tenacity in close combat—stared at his opponent with a smug smile, clearly unthreatened by the slender mystery knight before him. Annatar adjusted his grip on his sword, feeling its familiar weight in his hands.

The signal was given, and Ser Meryn charged forward, his shield raised high. Annatar stayed light on his feet, circling around, waiting for the right moment. As Ser Meryn swung his sword in a powerful overhead slash, Annatar sidestepped, his reflexes quick and precise. He responded with a swift counterattack, aiming low to throw his opponent off balance.

Ser Meryn stumbled but quickly regained his footing, launching a flurry of strikes. Annatar deflected each one, the clash of steel ringing through the air as he moved with surprising grace. His smaller frame allowed him to evade Meryn's slower, brute-force attacks. With a sharp parry, Annatar found his opening, striking Ser Meryn's shield with enough force to make his opponent stagger. Without wasting a second, Annatar brought his blade up, catching the hilt of Ser Meryn's sword, and with a deft twist, disarmed him.