Omen

[Arthur's POV]

The crowd cheered as he stepped foot onto the tourney grounds and paced forward. 

This dance would be his greatest challenge in the duel tournament so far, this truth Arthur had little doubt of. Daman had won the normal footrace and the armored one, survived the onslaught of two of his fellow sworn brothers long enough for assistance to arrive, left Ser Loras frustrated and hadn't so much as taken a blow that Arthur would consider truly harmful. He was like a walking fortress of steel that had only been struck with wooden sticks.

Worst of all, he had never seen his movements slow or signs of him being weary. 

He fights at his own pace, Arthur thought. A slow, orderly pace. I would like to see him fight at mine.

Armed with Edric's advice and his own strategy, Arthur gave himself a sense of confidence.

Daman removed his helmet with one hand, holding his shield in the other. His navy blue eyes studied him, wholly unfazed. Arthur did him the same courtesy, removing his. He did not blink. 

"You will test me today, Ser Arthur." He admitted as he donned his helmet once more. "May the best warrior win."

"May the best warrior win."

Arthur repeated, putting on his helmet and drawing Nightfall. Its black blade glistened and howled as it left the scabbard - hungry for blood. So was the Valyrian Steel sword's wielder.

Daman's shield was a large steel extension of his plate armour, covering most of his arm and upper body facing Arthur. 

Arthur would slash horizontally across Daman's shield, creating a terrible screech as his sword grazed across the shield. Daman would counter by pushing his shield forward in an attempt to bash him. Arthur took the forceful blow, stepping back. Daman would swing his chained mace for Arthur's right shoulder.

Arthur recovered and immediately saw an opportunity, clashing his sword against the centre of the chain. He twisted his blade and curled the chain around it. Daman, unsuspecting of the move, saw Arthur tug with both of his arms, yanking the mace into the air and away from Daman's grasp. He went down to grab it and rolled out of the way before Daman could capitalise.

"You are dexterous." Daman remarked, sounding confident still.

Chained morningstar's were never Arthur's speciality, but on this occasion… he chose to make use of it. He swapped hands, taking Nightfall in his left and the morningstar in his right. One of knight's most recent curiosities had been wielding two weapons at once, having wielded Lady Forlorn alongside Nightfall and seen Gaegor in action. 

He had already practised swordsmanship in both hands, albeit his left wasn't nearly as good.

"Your intent is to break my defense by unorthodox means." Daman pointed out. "You have not practiced this way of fighting much, have you?"

"What about it?"

"It's a rather awful time to decide to be experimental."

"Better than never."

He proceeded to open with the morningstar, only for it to do minimal damage and Daman try shield bashing him. Arthur retreated in time, looking at the morningstar in dissatisfaction. Daman managed to give him the illusion that it was a good choice of weapon…

He turned to the end of the tourney grounds, retreating back.

"..."

Daman advanced after him confusedly. 

It was then that Arthur tossed the morningstar to the very corner of the grounds. 

"You can try getting it if you want."

Daman did not seek to retrieve his morningstar. Rather, he remained still, patiently waiting for him to strike. Arthur would do so, his blade cutting through the air and clashing against his shield. He swiftly tilted the sword around it, only for Daman to counter by moving his shield barely a split second after. 

Though this did not impede the knight, far from it. Daman's impenetrable defence led to Arthur feeling even more determined to cut through it. He would take Nightfall in both hands, cutting and piercing against his shield with great force. The cuts would graze it while the piercing strikes would be deflected by the steel shield…

Each time Daman tried to counter, Arthur retreated and shook his shield with another blow. He would try grappling his shield away and half-swording, performing numerous techniques as he tried to break through Daman's defence.

They would dance for over ten minutes, with Arthur being relentless while Daman did not even have a moment to counter...

Arthur began to breathe heavy - heavier than he should. Daman saw this as an opportunity to strike, only for Arthur to dash to the side and give him a thunderous blow to the head that sent him stumbling forward.

Arthur followed up with a strike to the kidney…

CLANG.

Daman shifted in time, blocking him.

"You pretended to be more weary than you were…" 

"Mayhaps I did." Arthur spoke, changing his sword stance to an inside stance, pointing Nightfall at his opponent from chest height. "Either way, you underestimated me."

"I won't make that mistake a second time."

As Daman returned on the defensive, Arthur let his sword do the talking for him.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

He continued his relentless onslaught, pushing Daman back. Nightfall seemed even blacker than before, reflecting its wielder's resolve.

I will cut through it…

Nightfall left its mark that time, slashing deeper than the relative scratches from before.

He shifted his sword, stabbing with all his strength.

PIERCE.

Nightfall went right through the steel shield. Daman retreated in shock while Arthur easily dragged his sword from the shield. Arthur would have been shocked, too, if not for the fire burning in his blood. All he saw was red.

I will cut through.

Before Daman could think of what to do, Arthur continued his brutal assault on his shield. He slashed down, the steel of the shield crying out as Nightfall forcefully cut its path. The steel resisted at the halfway point, only for Arthur to shift its blade and cut to the side.

I will cut through!!!

CLUNK.

A quarter of the shield flew to the side as if a beast had eaten into it.

Daman stumbled back as Arthur prepared another mighty swing.

He did not hesitate.

"I concede."

As he heard those words, he regained himself and stopped at Daman's shield. A look of surprise mirrored his inner thoughts. How in Seven Hells had I done that?

Daman's shield looked burnt where his sword had left it as if Nightfall had been enflamed. There was no flame, however, only the black blade that it always had.

"What did you do?" Daman questioned as if he would know.

"... Cut your shield, by the looks of it. If you mean to ask how, well..." Arthur shrugged. "I don't know."

"If the duel had continued as it went, I would have died." Daman turned away, shaking his head. "You are a most fearsome knight; I'll leave you to Valaegor."

~

[Edric's POV]

Seeing Arthur chopping up that shield like a thousand-degree knife cutting through a plastic bottle definitely wasn't on my list of probabilities. I was surprised, shocked even. Did Arthur find a way to fully utilise the magical elements of Nightfall, or did he unlock a form of magic? Surely, not even Valyrian Steel could have such cutting prowess on its own...

I briefly glanced at Raiden Shogun, wondering if she had an explanation.

"That was but a glimpse of the Pyro element." Raiden Shogun looked just as surprised as I. "The sparks that lead to a flame."

'The sparks that lead to a flame...' I looked at Arthur, grinning. Seeing him succeed gave me a feeling of... delight. Pride. Admiration, even. It was a greater sense of joy than winning on my lonesome. 'That's my bro.'

By all means, he should never be here. He should have never been a Kingsguard, wielded a Valyrian Steel sword, or possessed such skill... yet he does. Day after day, he sparred with me; we pushed each other to be better. We fought side by side in more skirmishes than I could count. Always... he sought to prove his worth and honour, never growing satisfied or content.

This endless hunger, the desire to become the finest knight you could be...

"It is not only a testament to the strength of his inner will and desires, but also your ability to inspire and motivate others. If he has begun to awaken power over fire, that is in great part due to your influence. You've always pushed him forward, after all."

Raiden Shogun added, stroking her chin as she looked at me with curiosity.

"In that case, you are not a mere wielder of the elements. My blessing originally only meant to give you electro, yet you also awakened anemo and hydro simultaneously of your own latent ability. That alone was unprecendented."

I kept my eyes on the tourney grounds, acting like I didn't see her.

"Since I gave you the last of my strength to keep you from dying, it seems to have led to more than just that. It left a seed; a seed that continuously evolves alongside you. This seed..."

"Has set you on the path of becoming an Archon; a God."

A God...

Though I claimed to be the 'Chosen Son of the Seven', I never truly saw myself as a godly figure. I was human, just like everyone else; only I was a king who wielded Storm Magic. It was nothing more than religious propaganda to garner support and yet...

It seems that I could very well become that.

Not because it was ever my ambition to be one, far from it... but rather as a consequence of the future that I seek.

"Are you alright?" Arya hit my arm, grabbing my attention. "That rock on the tourney grounds can't be that interesting."

"I was dozing off." I shook my head, smiling. "After such a brilliant display of martial prowess between such warriors, how can I look at anything lesser? My mind was frozen on it."

"Mhm." Arya raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"Tell me you weren't stuck on how he burned through that shield."

"I'm sure you've done better."

"Well..." I thought of the time I turned my sword into an electro lightsaber and began mowing through the Mountain Clansmen ranks. "Once or twice, mayhaps."

The quarterfinals continued, the second fight featuring the Red Viper and the Hound. While the Hound had certainly sustained his own wounds in the team melee, he had endured and dog-walked everyone in the duelling tournament - day by day. Meanwhile, Oberyn was only a day past getting that nasty cut to the side, a lariat and uppercut from Gaegor.

Though it was an intense fight, the Hound avoided getting cut in any gaps and eventually closed the gap by grasping Oberyn's spear, reeling him into a terrible headbutt and slashing his right shin.

The rest from there was history as a slower Oberyn was eventually overpowered by the Hound, who would claim victory.

In the third round, I saw Rhaerra approach Valaegor before the match. They seemed to talk about something - probably relating to not pissing off any more nobles.

If that was her advice, it fell on deaf ears.

At first, Valaegor and Garlan Tyrell looked evenly matched... and then they didn't. Valaegor parried Garlan's mace out of the way, turning the tides of their duel in the blink of an eye. He proceeded to smack him straight on the head, knocking the knight to the ground.

Garlan remained on the ground for well over ten seconds, leading to Valaegor winning.

"Are these the Seven Kingdom's mightiest warriors?!" Valaegor questioned, resting his poleaxe on his shoulder as he stepped over Garlan - using his head as a stepping stool. Part of me wished I had fought him in the melee. "All it takes is one blow, and you all crumble like a poorly baked pie!"

Amusingly enough, he seems to have forgotten losing to Arthur...

"Or is it that I, Valaegor Raelaereonor, Champion of R'hllor, simply have no equal in this land?!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, lazily raised my hand and lowered it.

BANG... BANG... BANG.

Three blows of thunder would consecutively strike the earth, all around Valaegor. Each one made him jump, along with everyone who bore witness to the sudden burst. Valaegor, naturally, looked the most dazed - having been nearly struck thrice.

As the shock passed, a roar of laughter sounded.

"Where is your Lord of Light now?!"

"That was the judgement of the Gods!"

"Return to Essos where you belong!"

The crowd started chucking garbage at him, and I couldn't help but laugh at the sight. He brought it on himself, really. Meanwhile, Valaegor took a long moment to recover from his shock. Once he did, flames lit his poleaxe and burned all the trash near him - seemingly making an altar around Garlan and himself.

"That was not the doing of your false gods!" Valaegor protested. "Do you name dragons as gods, because they breathe fire? The hand that procured lightning was your King's, who is one of R'hllor's chosen!"

"His Grace is the Chosen Son of the Seven!"

"How dare you proclaim our King as one of your own?!"

The crowd did not take kindly to his words, as a mini-religious war seemed to be brewing. I sighed, rising from my seat.

"SILENCE!"

Silence was the result.

Rain poured down onto the fire, putting it out in seconds.

"Get your foot off Ser Garlan's head before I step on yours." I looked down at Valaegor threateningly.

He stepped back, almost immediately.

"Now remove yourself from the tourney grounds and stop wasting everyone's time with your nonsensical declarations."

"Tsk."

Valaegor kissed his teeth before turning away and leaving.

I might not particularly like the Tyrells as a whole, but Ser Garlan was definitely one of the good ones. Truthfully, I was not fond of what I had witnessed. Though, a tourney is a tourney. If anyone sought to truly humble him now, it would be the remaining competitors.

Loras looked deeply unsettled and enraged; I could see it written across his face. He wanted to avenge his brother's honour.

~

Before the final match of the quarterfinals.

Arthur stood in front of Loras.

"Ser Loras... I know how you must feel, but... I would suggest that you don't take it out on Brienne. She is just as determined as you, meaning that the Kingsguard as a whole would only lose from such a clash."

"You are suggesting that I should concede to her?" Loras frowned. "Why must I be the one to concede, why can't she-"

"For one, Brienne might just be better than you when it comes to duelling. Most importantly; you are our best jouster. You'd be no good if you suffered wounds against her and later the Hound. What matters to you more; losing later on in this tournament or proving your title as the greatest jouster in the Realm in the final event of the Greatest Tournament of our lifetime?"

"What of my honour as a warrior? What of my brother's honour?"

"I'll fight for it." Arthur proclaimed, looking directly into his eyes. He firmly grabbed both of his shoulders. "Ser Garlan is a friend of mine, as well. We share a friendship forged in battle where I trusted him with my life, and he trusted me with his. He dishonoured a close friend of mine, looked down on every warrior in the Realm and proclaimed our Gods to be false."

"..." Loras' frown eased slightly.

"Valaegor will not win this tournament." Arthur spoke with absolute confidence. "Even if I may not defeat him, I will leave a mark so great that any squire with a blunted sword may lay him low. I swear this on my white cloak - as your friend, Serjeant and sworn brother."

"... I-"

"Besides, our honour comes second before our King's. He bet his old armour on us winning more than those blue cloaks - and you know how sentimental he can be." Arthur managed a smile. "I ask of you to win where I will be unable to, Ser Loras. That is all."

He let go of his shoulders, turning away.

"In the end, it is your decision."

As Arthur walked away, Loras felt a similarity between him and the King...

Ser Loras would play to the crowd in his duel, before making an intentional mistake and 'losing' to Brienne. And so, the stage was set for the semi-finals. The Hound against Brienne and Ser Arthur against Valaegor. So far, the foreigner gave the impression that he was nigh invincible, simply playing with some of the Realm's finest knights.

...

During the night, in the eve of the fateful day, Edric called on Arthur.

They shared the view of Edric's favourite place in all of King's Landing; its highest tower. Edric laid back, enjoying the breeze that swept his face. When he opened his eyes to face Arthur, he felt refreshed.

"Isn't it a wonderful night? A sky full of stars and a whole moon."

"Aye, it is quite beautiful." Arthur nodded. "What did you want to see me for?"

"Nothing much, really. Just a few words."

"Surely it's more than that. We did not climb all those steps for an unimportant remark."

"You know me, I like to set the scene." I nodded, smiling. "You've become a truly extraordinary person, Arthur. I do not mean that as flattery, either. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. You even inspired me."

"I... am honoured."

"No, I am. I could not ask for a friend as loyal, a knight as honourable, nor a Kingsguard more worthy to serve me."

Arthur bent the knee, leading to Edric raising an eyebrow.

"I would say the same to you, Edric. All the great kings of the past could rise from the dead all at once and I would still lay my sword at your feet. You granted me the greatest honours a knight could seek, a sword without price and a worthy cause to dedicate my entire life towards. My life, everything that I have to give, is yours."

"Look at you." Edric smiled, raising his hand. "Get off the ground, I need you to stand proud."

Arthur nodded, taking Edric's hand, and then he lifted him up with ease. Edric proceeded to wrape his arms around his friend, embracing him tightly.

"I am most fortunate to have you..."

"Edric, how do you intend for me to fight tomorrow if you break my bones-"

"I'm not that strong, am I?"

"You are that strong."

"Hmm... Edric Breakbones." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "It doesn't have the same ring to it as Edric Storm, does it?"

"I'd say... it doesn't."

Edric patted his back before letting go.

"Get some sleep, good Ser. You'll need it against the Val cunt."

"You shouldn't linger about, either. The maidens tend to prowl about in the night."

"The only maiden in my bed shall be the Maiden, spreading her love and warmth to me in her soft embrace."

"Certainly." Arthur laughed at the absurdity of it. "Ser Loras will be covering the night shift, so you don't have much to worry about."

"Is that sarcasm I hear?"

"Sarcasm? Why, Ser Loras is amongst the best fighters in the Realm, a sworn brother of the Kingsguard who had never once failed in a night shift. He only once slipped in a rose out of love for his King."

"Only a rose!" Edric laughed, shaking his head. "Indeed, he did."

"In all truth, I doubt that happens again. If it does, I shall take responsibility and change my white cloak for a black one."

"... You're taking the position of Serjeant in earnest, I see." Edric nodded approvingly. "Good. Though, never in my life would I subjugate you to the Wall."

"Nor would Ser Loras let another rose slip."

After their good time together, the two parted. Ser Arthur went to rest in the White Sword Tower while Edric exhausted his magic - practising his craft. He made sure to use it up all in one go before going down for a good rest.

On the next day, two raging flames would clash in a dance of fire.

(Poor Hound, he can never escape fire...)