Morning came without preamble. This would not be some spectacular duel witnessed by thousands, only the prince against a hedge knight. Nothing spectacular. The prince only had to go out, defeat one man, and return to ArgentStone with a new mine.
"It will be a difficult fight, my prince," said a hooded boy. It was Eldric, Wode's heir. "I wish you the best of luck. I brought you some water."
The prince ordered him to leave the cup on a table while he prepared. The boy left soon afterward. Jaehaerys thought about him. Perhaps he could take the boy as a squire and knight him one day. That would make him his vassal.
"He is good. Too good. I do not think Barristan is that good," Brandon said.
"I know. I have seen him," the prince replied. "Even so—"
"You do not think you can lose. Neither do I," Brandon said. "But can I have your horse if it happens?"
"You have wanted my horse for quite some time… Take him if I die." He did not mind promising it. He was not going to die.
Before going out to the training yard, he picked up the cup Eldric had offered him. He brought it to his lips, then stopped suddenly.
"Jaehaerys?" Brandon asked as the prince set the cup down untouched and walked out.
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Ser Wode's champion was a large man, as tall as the prince. His armor was plain, far too plain for a man of his skill. A knight like this needed only a tournament or two to become famous and earn enough gold for proper armor.
The man was a famous knight. He was merely trying to hide his identity. The prince studied him in the training yard, where the duel would take place. The man's sword was sheathed, its guard plain and wrapped in leather. Everything about him screamed that he had no personality at all. Even hedge knights had something that made them recognizable. This man did not.
The prince took up his three-section staff and tested its weight. It had grown light. He needed to make it heavier. So long as he could improve, he had to.
"Are you not going to introduce yourself, Ser?" the prince asked. His head felt heavy.
"I need no introduction, Prince." Jaehaerys knew the voice, but the helm distorted it enough to make it difficult to place.
"We have met before, though there are few men who could have your skill… A greatsword. Ahhh, did Aegon send you?" The prince was almost certain of the man's identity. He only needed him to draw the sword to remove the almost.
"I am afraid I came of my own accord," the knight said. "I want to walk without obeying orders." He drew his sword.
The blade was unique. There was no other sword in Westeros that could come close to it. Beautiful, pale as milkglass and as sharp as Valyrian steel.
It was Dawn. The sword of House Dayne. According to the stories, the founder of House Dayne had followed a falling star to the place where it struck the earth, and there he raised a castle, Starfall. All the great houses had fanciful tales, but the Daynes' might actually be true. Dawn was said to have been forged from the remains of that very star.
Was it true? The prince did not know. Nor was a history lesson necessary here. What mattered was knowing who owned that sword.
"I find it difficult to believe you came of your own accord, Arthur," the prince said, naming him outright.
"It does not matter. I did not come to make you a believer. I have only one purpose." The knight's voice was hoarse and dry.
Before Jaehaerys had left King's Landing, Arthur had been more jovial, more amusing. When the prince returned, he realized that age had made the knight bitter, or perhaps it had been serving under Rhaegar. The only times Arthur had seemed even a little happy were when he was with Daemon.
"Is this about Daemon?" the prince asked. His nephew was lost in the North. Perhaps Mance would bring news.
"No."
"Just begin already!" Ser Wode shouted from some distance away.
The septon did not even have time to give a speech before Arthur lunged. The sword grazed Jaehaerys's skin before the prince could properly process what was happening. His body moved before his mind did.
What the fuck is Arthur Dayne? the prince thought. He had not expected to be more skilled, but his physical abilities should have been so far above Arthur's that he ought to have overwhelmed him completely.
That did not happen. The prince was being driven backward. Every time Arthur moved his sword, it seemed as though the prince's senses dulled and slowed.
"Damn it." Dawn cut his cheek.
Shouts rose around them. A small crowd had formed among the castle staff. The collar on the prince's chest began to work.
That little idiot tricked me, the prince thought.
The cup Eldric had given him was poisoned. Not with a lethal poison, but one meant to dull his senses. He had felt it the moment he touched the cup, which was why he had not taken a sip of the water. It was not only the liquid that had been poisoned. The cup itself had been as well.
Cling!
The staff struck the edge of the sword. The blade had bitten half an inch into it. The prince had to block the next blows. Arthur was a machine, every movement fluid and unpredictable. The prince could not tell from which angle the next strike would come.
Cling!
Dawn finally broke one of the two chains. One section of the staff fell to the ground. The sound made everyone fall silent for a moment.
With every minute on the field, the purification collar fought the poison in the prince's body. The poison was winning. He grew dizzier and dizzier, as though suffering the worst drunkenness of his life.
When Dawn struck the staff again, Jae kicked Arthur. The man moved like a cat as he sprang backward, though not before attempting a thrust at the prince's head. The prince stumbled back several steps, nearly falling onto his back.
He recovered and looked at Arthur. The knight seemed untouched, immaculate. That irritated him. What was Arthur doing here? Had he come for Jaehaerys's head? Had he simply been traveling, heard of a religious dispute, and decided to join in? Jaehaerys did not remember Arthur being particularly devout.
"Whatever." Jae took the staff, now reduced to two sections, and settled into a fighting stance. "Finally." He could feel his head becoming clearer and clearer.
This time Arthur did not attack. He waited with his guard raised. The prince did not rush. He was not an idiot. He would not attack until his mind was completely clear. He did not care if he had to wait half an hour.
Arthur was not so patient. He lunged, sweeping the sword in an arc from the side before turning the blow into a thrust. The prince managed to deflect it and struck Arthur's helm with his bare fist. A hollow sound rang out. Arthur staggered back several steps, shaking his head. Even half-stunned, his sword remained steady in his hand.
Good, the prince thought. He was beginning to feel comfortable in the fight.
For the first time, he launched himself at Arthur. His staff moved deftly in his hands once more. He was no longer merely defending. Now he was looking for a way to end it. They moved across the field as though dancing, Arthur, still half-stunned, turning aside the blows with practiced precision.
Jaehaerys began steering Arthur toward the place where one section of the staff had fallen. Arthur stepped on it but did not slip. Instead, he tried to kick it toward Jaehaerys.
Ha, I wanted to do that, the prince thought with a smile. He had planned to throw that section at Arthur's legs.
Arthur's attempt went badly. Moving some eight kilograms with one leg was no simple thing. Jaehaerys took advantage of the awkward motion and struck the sword. It flew from Arthur's hand and landed several yards away.
Arthur breathed heavily. Jaehaerys watched him remove his helm and, to the prince's surprise, saw a dent exactly where he had struck it. Jae resisted the urge to rub his knuckles.
"Here I am." Arthur's mouth was full of blood. The man coughed out a tooth. "Finish it."
The prince tilted his head.
Arthur seemed… far too willing to die.
Jaehaerys was curious. He gave him a hard slap, and the man collapsed unconscious to the ground.
"Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen has won," the septon announced.
Jaehaerys looked at Ser Wode. The man was pale as a ghost. He smiled at him from where he stood. The prince's gaze searched for Eldric.
The boy was nowhere to be seen.
Give me stones, bro... I'll clean your kitchen
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