Chapter 19: S1-E18: Old Wolf and Young Lion 1/2

Chapter 18: Old Wolf and Young Lion

…

Geralt and Jaime quickly closed the distance between each other, weapons raised for the incoming clash. The Witcher had to admit the young knight was fast even with all that armor on, making him note that Jaime wouldn't be as predictable when it came to his movement like Gregor. Reaching striking distance, Geralt at first seemed ready for a lunging stab, only it was a feint for his real opening attack. Suddenly he'd twist about redirecting his momentum as he'd step around to the right side of Jaime to bypass his strong shield.

Normally such a deception would catch most opponents off-guard considering the speed behind the attack. Seemingly, Jaime reacted as he too turn with his shield up to block that incoming slash while swinging his own sword as well. Once more Geralt was caught off guard by Jaime's speed, as he'd barely had enough time to lean away from that sweeping blade. Jaime didn't relent though as he followed up with a shield blow, the strong metal bashing across Witcher's chest and shoving him backward roughly.

Despite the blow Geralt kept his footing and shifted away to catch his breath, while Jaime stayed back, guard up for any sudden counters. For a moment the two just had a stare down, those few seconds of battle already having them strategizing over their next moves. In the background though yells and cheers from the crowds filled the air after seeing that lightening quick clash.

Slowly both men circled about, closely watching each other's stance and weapons positions, trying to figure out what move the other do next. Geralt right then knew Jaime had planned well for this battle. For one that shield was the biggest threat toward him, since unlike the ones the other knights had used, this one was doubly reinforced. He doubted his blade could break through all that plating and toughened wood behind it.

Suddenly Jaime charged forward, shield forward in a charge before turning at Geralt's right side. The Witcher was on the move, trying to keep some distance from that shield yet Jaime's blade slowed him down. For a while the two began to trade blows, back pedaling and lunging for the attack, directions shifting constantly to gain a more favorable position. Every so often they'd trade glancing blows. A nicked cut at an exposed angle, an armored punch or for the Witcher's annoyance a forceful strike by that shield. Neither was gaining an edge, though as time passed Geralt started to realize Jaime was getting his movement pattern down, reacting faster and avoiding any other feints. Already he knew his usual approach wasn't going to work at this rate.

The two rushed in at the same time, blades locking to stop each other while that shield swung in for Geralt's face. His left armored arm raised up, the toughened bracer blocking the blow even if the force made him grunt in pain. It took all of his arm strength just to keep that shield and sword back. The Witcher would suddenly strike out though with his right knee the steeled plating on his leggings drawing a winded grunt from Jaime and forcing the knight back. He was stunned for only a moment, giving Geralt time to back off and catch his breath.

Neither said anything, giving no jests or insults as they stood by, doing a short stretch after that clash. Right now Geralt was thinking over his choices…all of them requiring a Sign just to break such perfect defense. That made him realize just how much he relied on his magical skills to overcome such odds. No…he had to win by sword skill alone. At that moment he understood what he had to do as he'd glance at Jaime's shield, a small smirk hinting his lips. The young knight had a questioning look but said nothing as he'd raise up his guard, expecting the Witcher to do an opening attack.

By now their short pause ended as Geralt took the first step forward, going directly at Jaime at first before suddenly weaving to the left, lashing out at the knight's shield. Jaime guarded the quick attack before turning about to face the Witcher, trying to force him back with his blade or shoved away the shield. Geralt kept up the attack, starting to spin and twist rapidly as he used the whirl technique. It left his defenses low, while forcing Jaime fully onto defense to ward off the fury of blows.

Jaime held his ground, having a tense look showing from under that helmet as his shield arm lowered more and more. Geralt's gambit had been right, even though the shield could block his attacks, constant blows rattled through his arm, straining the limb constantly. Soon, Jaime was forced back one step then another as rapid strikes kept going, chipping and denting the metal facing of the shield which it held strong still. Geralt was starting to feel the stress of maintaining the whirl for so long, even with adrenaline driving him on. Overall it was a test of endurance between the two.

Suddenly the constant attacks stopped as Geralt twist about for a round-house kick. Putting all his strength and momentum forward as he aimed at the center of the shield, just over where Jaime's arm was braced. The young knight gave a gasp of pain as the stress snapped through him, making his arm reel back as his strong defense was broken. Shock showed in Jaime's eyes as the Witcher lunged in, sword stabbing out at the knight's right side, the sharp blade piercing through the fine golden armor with little difficultly.

A shocked grunt escaped from Jaime as weapon just pierce the skin, yet he'd slash out with his sword to force Geralt away. The Witcher relaxed his fighting stance slightly as Jaime caught his breath, glancing down at shallow wound before giving a chuckle. "Heh…been a long time since I saw my own blood."

"Can stop right now." Geralt calmly stated. "I've drawn first blood, so there be no shame in yielding."

"You'd be right." Jaime chuckled, seeming hardly fazed by his light injuries. "What gave you the idea to attack so recklessly?"

"Thoros."

"Ah…make sense. He tactics while simple, are effective at times." The young knight suddenly removed the heater shield, dropping it with a sigh before he'd stretch his arm, flexing his grip to make sure there was no issues. "However I'm not yielding. This battle has only gotten started." The man shifted his stance, gripping his blade in both hands. "So long as I can hold a sword, I will not give up willingly."

"Stubborn…" Geralt muttered, expected nothing less from the talented young man. For a moment he debated how to begin their next round of dueling. Already he learned a lot from their first round but noticed Jaime's style had changed just from how his stance shifted and the way he gripped his sword. Meanwhile the young knight understood his moves, leaving him at a disadvantage. He half expected Jaime to charge in while he strategize, yet the knight didn't. Perhaps it was his sense of honor or perhaps he wanted the Witcher to make the opening attack so he could counter it. A realization hit him as he knew that he needed to fight in a manner no one had seen him do.

Geralt shifted his left hand to his back, reaching for his silver blade. If anything what he was about to do was reckless. "In that case its time you face my silver blade as well." The gleaming sword was draw out from its sheath before the Witcher spun in about in his grip. Vesemir never approved of the duel-wield style, said it was too flashy and pointless from his point of view and only good for short sudden attacks. Geralt only used it for finisher moves or facing groups, though he felt in this case the rarely seen style would give him an edge.

Jaime reacted oddly seeing the two swords, his stance seeming to falter for a short moment. His eyes betrayed a hint of shocked recognition as he watched Geralt pace forward, swords swinging and spinning about in his hands in a quite intimidating display. Soon though that gaze became tense, a hint of excitement now showing. "Yes…you are exactly like him." Jaime muttered before reaching back, drawing a side weapon he had on his belt, a long dirk by the looks of it. "Been preparing for this day for years. It's time I put this plan to the test." Again he shifted his stance, sword forward and dirk back at his side, a proper duelist stance.

The Witcher was curious, unsure of what Jaime meant or the plan he seeming had. That alone had him even more on guard as both men circled each other. The crowd seemed restless with all this delaying, unknowing at just how tense this short standoff was. Either by chance or reaction both stepped in at the same times to attack.

Geralt did a short leap as he spun both blades about in a deadly arc, forcing Jaime to back step while he had his own weapons wards away those quick swords. The Witcher was constantly flowing into another sweeping attack, swords moving in a slashing cross pattern or in one direction for powerful duel blows. However Jaime was matching up as he'd block and parry about, putting that dirk to good use. It was a cunning replacement for his lowered defense and was a far more deadly weapon than the discarded shield.

A good few minutes passed as the two battled, their styles being equally matched as before. Every so often they'd trade blows, from Geralt's steel blade cutting at the front of Jaime's armor or the young knight's dirk just getting a short stab at the Witcher's side. That white cloak Jaime wore was ripped up and his armor was being rent apart by those sharp blades chipping at it. They weren't pulling their attacks now, too driven to win this duel. All their injuries were minor, yet they were building up as the two fought more aggressively and the prolonged fight began tire them. Geralt was use to drawn out battles, thinking back to a battle against a unique Fiend called Morvudd, who he fought for nearly half a day in its hidden den. Of course in that fight he had half a dozen potions prepared and his defensive Signs to aid him.

Jaime was starting to slow down and was focusing more on evading attacks instead of parrying. His gaze kept that determined fierceness, showing that he was unweaving despite the growing odds.

"Give up Jaime. You've fought well but you can't outlast me." Geralt warned as he'd ready both swords for his next attack. He'd gave a fierce yell as he'd charge in again, barrowing from Thoros to be more intimidating. Jaime stood his ground as one sword slashed down overhead while the other stabbed forward, forcing the knight to use his long sword to block the high strike and the dirk to parry the stab. Instead of backing off to attack for another angle, Geralt pressed in, shoulder tackling into Jaime.

"What-!?"

Jaime didn't get another word out as the Witcher's armored knee drove into his gut, knocking the wind out of the knight. There was one thing that Geralt had realized with Jaime, he didn't understand that in a true battle, rougher and lowly tactics were allowed. Thoros had been a reminder of that. Geralt had been too distracted by formal battles and practice fights. Even during the Melee he knew he had been refraining from more brutish moves when they would have made certain moments easier.

"Like I said…no mercy!" He'd growl as he'd side step to the right and attack at Jaime's side, landing a solid blow which cut through the gold plating and along the skin.

Despite the stunning blow Jaime turn away and gave a broad slash with his sword, Geralt blocked it with one blade before stepped forward again for another stab. The short distance gave Jaime little room for him to parry with his dirk. He'd drop the weapon before his armored hand grasped at Geralt's wrist, just stopping the blade by mere inches. It was now as struggle as the two were locked in a grapple, their long swords trapped in a clash, while Jaime struggled to keep the silver blade from him.

Once again though Geralt did the unexpected as his head arched back before he lashed out in a headbutt, striking at Jaime's full helm. It hurt like hell striking metal and his vision blared from the tense pain in his skull. Even blood trailed down his forehead from an open gash. The blow though staggered Jaime and shifted his helmet about, partly blinding him as the knight moved his free hand to tug the helm off his head. Gasping, he'd stare at Geralt as both quickly recovered from the head blow.

"A low move…" He growled in a hint of anger.

"Call it improvising." Geralt muttered back, giving a small smirk. "That is how a real fight goes…perhaps you've forgotten that."

Jaime gripped his sword tightly, holding it in both hands as he'd take a strong stance. "Enough. Let us end this now…"

"Yes…lets!"

The Witcher had Jaime exposed right then. With that helmet off, it be easier to end this battle in a moment's notice. Geralt quickly closed the distance, blades outward at his sides while Jaime stood there on guard, prepared for a reaction strike. At the last moment Geralt put his inhuman speed forward for just a moment, outmatching Jaime's honed reactions by little more than milliseconds. Jaime still slashed out only for the silver sword to parry it aside then direct it down to the ground, pinning it into the earth. The steel blade swung downward for his neck, ready to press at Jaime's throat and forcing him to submit.

Instead blood and a pained cry filled the air. Gasps escaped from the watching knights and crowds, everyone surprised at what had just happened, even Geralt having a shocked look replace his fierce expression. At that last moment Jaime had struggled forward, leaning in just enough for that blade to slice across the left side of his face. The deep cut went from his brow, down the cheek to his jaw, narrowing missing going across his eye. The Lannister gave shaky breaths and grunts of pain as blood trailed down his head.

"NO!" A woman's voice screamed out over sounds of the crowd, making Geralt look to the royal stands to see Queen Cersei standing up from her seat, only being kept back as one of the King's Guard held her back. She'd struggle and yell out orders, though it was too hard to make out her words among all the noise. Lord Tywin was also standing, trying to get a better look at what had happened. He seemed tense over what was happening but remained quite calm unlike his daughter.

Suddenly Geralt felt a hand grasp at his right wrist. His attention returned to Jaime who took deep steady breaths, still seemingly having the will to fight on despite the painful wound. Slowly he'd force that arm away and off to the side while he's struggle up to stand up to look Geralt in the eyes. For a moment he seemed ready to say something before someone else interrupted him.

"Enough! This fight has gone on long enough!" Tyrion yelled as his horse came to a quick stop beside them. Two city watch were right behind the dwarf along with four squires who already had a stretcher and basic medical supplies on hand. "I will not have you two kill each other over petty pride! Look at yourselves!"

For a moment the tension faded as both men looked at each other, blood and dirt coated their armor, showing how long they had been battling. Indeed the ache of fighting for at least two hours creeped in, a realization of just how long the Melee had been. Slowly Jaime's grasp weakened before slipping away, the man staggered back as he'd at last let go of his sword still pinned to the ground. For a moment Jaime swayed on his feet, breathing deeply while blood dripped heavily down his cheek and chin. His gaze seemed distant for a moment as he seemed ready to topple.

"Hey!" Geralt dropped his silver blade as his hand grabbed the knight at the shoulder, supporting him up as he was about to lose balance. "Stay awake! Just hold out a bit longer."

Those words seemed to snap the Lannister to attention, making him glance at Geralt's face even as blood coated onto his left eye. He'd just nod, knowing he had to stay strong for the crowds.

"Good people…both common and noble! The Melee is finished and we have our champion!" Tyrion spoke up loudly. "In a grand clash between Jaime Lannister of the King's Guard and Geralt of Rivia…I proclaim the Witcher the victor!"

The masses cheered out, chants for Geralt and Witcher filling the air. Jaime gripped Geralt's arm holding it upward with what strength he had, catching the Witcher off guard. If anything he felt awkward at this moment, never thinking he'd be winner of a royal tournament. Glancing to Jaime, the man gave a short nod before the knight let go of his arm, again slumping as the injuries and exhaustion took its toll. Geralt shifted to support Jaime up a bit longer as the squires hurried over to lead the knight away, Jaime shaking his head to refuse being carried out on a stretcher. The squires would support Jaime up as he'd stagger off the field for the Maester tent.

Despite how no words were shared, a deep respect was shared in that short moment. The Witcher couldn't deny he had met a formable match, even if it was limited to just pure swordsmanship. However, he was snapped out of his thoughts as Tyrion rode up to him, giving a prod at his shoulder.

"Don't pass out yourself Geralt. You seemed lost for a moment."

"No…just thinking."

"Try to look lively at least until you return to your tent. If anything you could do with a care with those cuts."

Geralt shrugged. "This is minor to what I've had, yet thanks for the concern. I can treat myself." He'd pick up his blades, cleaning them off with a rag before sheathed in. The whole time the crowd cheered on, even though he was too tired to pander to them.

"Please everyone! Your champion is wary and needs his well-deserved rest! Sadly, we will have to skip ceremony for this occasion. For now please, go enjoy the fair grounds for rest of the day." Tyrion declared, settling the crowd as they'd begin to file out from the stands.

Giving a thankful nod to the dwarf, Geralt hurried across the field for the tents, no one stopping him although a few knights gave respectful nods and short goodbyes to him. Even the nearby commoners gave him some space, looks of wonder showing as they watched the man who bested the Mountain and the King Slayer. Already the Witcher had a feeling plenty of songs and grand tales were going to spread around over night

...

The walk back was a blur to him as he'd arrive at his tent, slinging his blades off his back before going to the storage chest. Opening it, he'd grab a Swallow potion and gulp it down, giving a deep sigh as the potent mixture coursed through his body, dulling the pain as it began the steady process of mending him.

Removing his armor and bloodied cut up clothes, changing into a pair of fresh pants before collecting some water and rags to clean himself up. Wiping off blood, sweat and dirt, he'd pause as he heard someone nearing his tent before continued.

"May I enter Geralt?" Lord Baelish spoke out behind the tent flap.

There was silence for a moment. "Fine…come in."

Littlefinger entered the tent, his gaze quickly set on the Witcher as he'd see the many scars that covered his body. Claw marks, bite prints, sword cuts and stab wounds marred his pale skin, a brutal physical history of Geralt's dangerous life style.

"I'm no man of warfare…yet can't imagine how anyone would endure so many wounds." Petyr muttered.

"Always been a survivor." Geralt answered back as he'd get a dry rag to finish cleaning himself off. "Can say Ser Jaime pushed me for the first time in months."

"It was indeed a fantastic duel between you two, along of course toppling the infamous Mountain. You've accomplished more then what most men would ever believe."

"I take you were doubtful of my success?"

"To a degree. Rumor and claim can only go so far. I can say I lost at least one bet I made…not a serious lost considering my other winnings."

Geralt sighed as he'd toss the last rag aside. "And the point? I take you didn't come here to have a friendly chat over your betting habits."

"True…I wished to inform you that Lady Stark has been safely escorted out of the city. My agents reported this to me not long after the Melee ended."

"Good. Glad that is one matter taken care of. Anything else?"

Baelish paced around the tent, gaze looking to the swords set nearby. "I am curious about your investigations as well. Have you confronted Tyrion yet?"

"Yes." Geralt simply answered

"And?"

"He claims to have never won the dagger." The Witcher grabbed the sheathed weapon, holding it up for emphasis. "Said he saw you handing it off to King Robert after his son's naming day tournament."

"An interesting story."

"You deny it?"

"I think you're being too trusting to the dwarf's answers."

Geralt's gaze narrowed at how Baelish avoided a straight answer. "I can say I trust him more then you."

Petyr chuckled at the Witcher's answer, giving a small shrug in response. "True, but have you never considered that Tyrion maybe using you for his own ends? Using that trust to mislead you?"

Suddenly Littlefinger was shoved up to one of the posts supporting the tent, Geralt's hand at his neck much like Ned's had been outside the brothel. A shocked look showed on Petyr's face as he'd gasp out, grasping at the Witcher's strong grip.

"You know…Lord Stark was right about you. You're a funny man." Geralt muttered coldly. "Why so focused on putting suspicion on Tyrion? Some grudge between you."

"Ugh…no…you're misunderstanding!" Baelish gasped out.

"Really now?" He'd lift the man a foot off the ground, making Petyr struggle more. "Because misleading me would be an unwise choice. After what you saw today you'd know that by now." Suddenly, he'd let go, dropping the lord down onto his knees. "Now the truth."

Taking a few shaky breaths, Baelish nodded as he'd stand up and straighten himself. He did well to hide his shaken look on his face after taking a moment to calm himself. "I'll admit, Tyrion and I have had a rivalry at times. However my reasons were for the King's wellbeing…"

"Wellbeing?"

"If you had learned immediately about Robert's ownership of the dagger, you may have reacted hastily at least from my point of view. We have only known each other for a short while and after seeing your first encounter with the King during the Small Council…it was obvious he and you don't see eye to eye."

Geralt had to admit the man had a fair point, even if it was grudgingly. "So why the false story on Tyrion?"

"Because he'd tell the truth, one that you'd know for certain was true. Again I am sorry for misleading on the matter, I had to be sure you'd approach things in a reasonable matter."

Despite the man's answer, Geralt didn't fully buy the whole being tested claim. However he didn't speak openly against it, although his sharp eyes no doubt showed the distrust he felt. "So then…you betted the dagger to Robert, which he won. I doubt though he'd hire an assassin to kill his best friend's son, much less in a clumsy manner."

"Yet a lot of people close to him would no doubt have access to it. What if the King had gifted it to a friend or someone within the family?"

"Does thin out the list…" Already he was thinking over possible suspects and possible motives.

Cersei didn't seem the type to be gifted a dagger and was far from foolish enough to give it to an assassin, even if Bran may have seen her cheating with someone else. Jaime was a fitting choice, but he and Robert don't seem to be friends, being more of a professional level between King and royal guard. Neither of Robert's brothers where at Winterfell and they don't seem to have a good bond with their eldest brother. That left only one individual…one that be foolish enough to set up the assassination.

"Going to need to talk to the King before I decide on anything."

Petyr seemed to realize Geralt had some kind of revelation yet didn't question the Witcher on the matter. "That maybe simple considering. The King may very well invite you for dinner tonight…that is if the queen allows it."

Already Geralt remembered that horrible cry she had made when she had thought her brother had been cut down. "Guess he'll send someone for me if that happens."

"I'd be on my guard if I were you. If you didn't have everyone's attention before you will now after your grand victory. Watch yourself among the nobility."

"I can handle myself."

"Heh…I have no doubts about that." The man paced for the tent flap out, stopping just before it. "Is there anything else I can do for you though? Perhaps there is something I can do to help."

Geralt didn't answer at first, not wanting to openly ask help from the smug nobleman. "Just keep an ear to the ground for anything odd. Maybe you can keep me informed of Gregor if he somehow recovers quickly and tries anything."

"Simple enough. Ah right…should see Tyrion later as well once things settle down. After all you do have your reward to pick up." Giving a short bow, Petyr moved to leave. "Enjoy your evening Ser Geralt."

Watching the man step out, he'd sigh in annoyance. "Slippery bastard…" It was like dealing with sneaky manners of Dijkstra and the politic bullshit of Shilard. Deep down he knew the man was helping for his own ends, yet what he wasn't certain. Despite the distrust he was an ally Eddard if things in court took a bad turn. Already all the worrying tired him, as if the soreness of battle wasn't enough. Getting a blanket to lay on the ground, he'd shift down to meditate, wanting to at least quickly pass the time until the evening when Tyrion and other others would be finished with their duties.

Taking a deep breath, he'd calm himself and close his eyes as he entered his trance, enjoying what short peace he had for the rest of the day.

…

"Ser Geralt?"

A young male voice snapped the Witcher out of his deep meditation, making him open his yellow cat like eyes to see who disturbed him. He'd quickly recognize it was Robert's squire, the Lannister boy who seemed a bit short witted at times. Seeing Geralt's gaze had the squire flinch, no doubt finding those eyes a bit unsettling up close.

"Yes?"

"Uhh…I have a message from Lord Tywin Lannister. He wishes to speak with you on some important matters."