Chapter 32: Ringing Steel - 112 AC  

In the early hours of the morning, with the sun barely cresting the eastern horizon, Clement found himself already immersed in his study, joined by his steadfast companion and co-builder of their island domain, Selwyn. Despite the hour, Selwyn had arrived bearing news from the Grey Gallows. While some might view Selwyn's direct approach to Clement, rather than seeking out Bartimos, as improper and possibly even treasonous, the customs of Westeros rarely sees for individuals to hold multiple titles concurrently; even the mighty Lannisters divided their dominion between Casterly Rock and Lannisport to a cadet branch. Contemplating the expansion of their holdings in the future, Clement mused on the prospect of needing to establish a new branch of House Celtigar to oversee the additional territories.

"Those cursed scoundrels," Clement lamented, casting aside the parchment before him. "Despite their government's submission, these unsavory elements persist in prowling our waters like a plague they are."

"You did grant jobs to their slaves, my lord," Selwyn interjected. "They seek recompense for their losses."

Clement shook his head adamantly. "The slave pits of the Stepstones were not of their own making; those Tyroshi slavers merely sought to exploit the situation. The gods have a cruel sense of timing, striking during the midst of the tourney no less."

"And what course of action do you propose, my lord?" Selwyn inquired. "Should we dispatch additional ships for reinforcement? Seek the crown's aid in negotiations with Tyrosh?"

"Negotiating with slavers is an exercise in futility, Selwyn," Clement asserted. "They are akin to vermin, resilient and difficult to eradicate. Our best recourse is to assert firm control over the Stepstones' waters, intercepting any slaver vessels on sight. The Stepstones now fall under the dominion of the Seven Kingdoms, and it is our laws that shall govern them. Slavers shall not roam our waters under any pretext. By perhaps inflicting sufficient harm upon them, they shall be dissuaded from encroaching upon our territories and seek easier prey elsewhere."

Selwyn nodded in understanding. "Shall we dispatch the fleet, then?"

"Aye, send forth a quarter of our fleet here to the Stepstones and inform my father," Clement commanded. "Ser Phineas shall lead this task force. Attend to the raven as well."

"As you command, my lord," Selwyn acquiesced with a respectful bow before departing to carry out his assigned duties.

When Clement was left alone in his study room, he could only look towards the windows as the sun rose in the distance, his hand touching the table, his finger tapping the wood repeatedly on a controlled pattern.

The man then simply leaned against his chair and closed his eyes, a thought suddenly came to mind.

"Laena comes home today…" he murmured softly, his gaze then darting towards The Pincer that is placed against a wall, as he will use it today. Then, he simply stood up, grabbing the axe and slowly stride towards the exit. "I suppose we will see…"

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As the sun cast its brilliance nearly directly above Laena's head, she found herself at the port of Brackyore, accompanied by her sons and seven Dragonkeepers clad in gleaming black armor. They followed her here and escorted the chosen egg, nestled within a pot of heated charcoal. Descending the port's platform, she assisted her children while stepping onto the wooden planks, the sea's salty scent a constant companion since her departure from King's Landing.

Her gaze turned toward the military section of the port, where men-at-arms assembled with shields and axes, while errand boys loaded stacks of arrows and longbows onto swift Dormons, piquing Laena's curiosity.

Presently, a carriage halted before the platform, flanked by household guards. From it emerged Selwyn, accompanied by wet nurses attending to Laena's sons. They all paid their respects to Laena as Selwyn approached her.

"My lady, welcome home," he murmured softly.

"Good morrow, Selwyn," Laena replied, though her attention remained on the bustling preparations of the ships. "Why do we have the fleet ready?"

Selwyn sighed. "News arrived last night, my lady. Slavers raided the Grey Gallows. We are dispatching reinforcements and supplies."

"An unfortunate turn of events... and timing," Laena mused. She turned to the Dragonkeepers, who stood vigilant, guarding the pot. Then, her gaze shifted to the carriage, noticing its sole occupancy. "We require another carriage, Selwyn. Assign this one to the Dragonkeepers; I shall await another."

"As you command, my lady," Selwyn nodded, signaling a household knight to return to Crab's Return and fetch another carriage. With a nod, the knight galloped away through the bustling port.

Laena addressed the Dragonkeepers next. "Ao jāhor gaomagon bisa kipagon naejot se sombāzmion. Se dohaeragon konīr jāhor jemagon ao naejot Rhaena," she instructed, directing them to transport the egg to the castle promptly to the one that was supposed to have the egg, Rhaena.

The Dragonkeepers bowed in acknowledgment as Selwyn escorted them to the carriage, the pot safely secured among the passengers, and departed for the castle, mirroring the knight's prior departure.

Observing the carriage's swift departure, Laena sighed before turning to Selwyn. "Where is my husband, Selwyn?"

"At the jousting grounds, my lady," Selwyn replied. "Engaged in a challenge with another knight."

"I see," Laena murmured, glancing down at her two sons. "Then perhaps they shall have the honor of placing the egg in the cradle..."

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Once more, the afternoon resonated with clamor as the crowd erupted into cheers akin to fervent madness upon the clash of Clement's lance against the armor of a knight bearing House Crabb's sigil. The impact was so formidable that Clement's adversary tumbled from his horse, landing several feet away from his previous stance, emitting groans of agony, incapacitated to rise. Approaching the fallen knight, a man inquired about his ability to continue, yet it was evident at first glance that the knight suffered a broken arm, rendering him unfit for further combat.

With a simple gesture, the man signaled to the crowd, eliciting louder cheers, as squires swiftly removed the fallen knight of House Crabb from the jousting grounds. Clement, exhaling deeply as he removed his helmet, guided his steed towards the dais where the king and his father presided. However, upon casting his gaze upward, he noticed an absence in the assembly—Selwyn, designated to stand discreetly in the background, was conspicuously absent, implying Laena's arrival.

Concealing his emotions, Clement bowed towards the dais, donning his helmet once more before urging his horse forward leaving the grounds, giving the opportunity to joust to another knight.

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It was around the same time that the tilt between Clement and the knight of House Crabb ended when Laena arrived at Crab's Return, already entering the castle and rushing through the slightly empty corridor with her two sons towards where Rhaena is currently being cradled. The wet nurses that have taken care of her were guiding Laena through the halls, their skirts dragging through the cold stone floor.

When they arrived at the nursery chamber, the door had already been guarded by the Dragonkeepers, a sight that made the lords and ladies that didn't attend the tourneys at the moment quite surprised. Laena along with her sons stood in front, the Dragonkeepers nodded their heads, before opening the door for them, and the three entered the chamber, leaving the wet nurses outside.

Inside, there were more Dragonkeepers, with the pot just placed right besides Rhaena's cradle. The babe is already half a year towards her first name day, definitely not the norm as Targaryens usually placed the egg just right after the birth of the one who was given the egg, but at the eyes of Laena it doesn't matter to her, what matters are if the egg hatches or not.

She slowly walked towards the pot, on top of it already placed a glove to grab the egg itself. When she opened it, the smoke came forth, and it made Rhaena cry loudly, along with some coughs slipping through. The woman merely caresses her daughter, trying to calm her down to no avail.

"Do you want to place it?" Laena asked her sons softly, trying not to make Rhaena cry even louder. She gave the gloves to both of them, telling them to wear it. "Here, use this to not burn your hands."

The twins nodded meekly, and they wore the gloves, one for each twin, Aemon on his left hand, and Gaemon on his right. The gloves are obviously too big for them, but they didn't care, as soon as it fully covered their hands, the twins worked together and dug the egg from the heated charcoal. Holding the egg with their hands, they finally placed it on their sister's cradle.

It was as if the egg itself was a pacifier, for when it was placed, Rhaena seemed to stop her crying. The Dragonkeepers then removed the pot from the chamber, and Laena simply eyed the egg, her hands never stopped caressing her daughter.

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The remaining days of the tourneys proceeded smoothly, and the weather gracing the festivities thus far was amiable to the spectators. The knights' tourneys had advanced to the final two contenders, while Clement had only one challenge remaining under his belt. Presently, the man stood by the window of the nursery chamber within the castle, his gaze fixed upon the tourney grounds nearly half a league away. He was not alone, for Dragonkeepers stood sentinel at the chamber's entrances, diligently guarding the egg and the babe in the cradle. Laena sat in a corner, her attention focused intently on her own daughter.

Observing Laena lost in thought, Clement sighed softly and approached her, tenderly touching her shoulder. "The egg will not hatch if you continue to stare at it incessantly," he remarked. "Let it be, Laena. It has only been five days since the egg was placed there; it will not hatch anytime soon."

"Rhaena is but half a year away from her first nameday. She will soon outgrow that cradle," Laena countered, her hand resting atop his on her shoulder as she looked up at him. "If the egg does not hatch sooner than anticipated, perhaps it will not hatch at all to bond with her. Is that not the purpose of placing the egg in the cradle? For it to imprint upon our daughter should it hatch while nestled there? So that Rhaena need not undertake the perilous task of taming one?"

"You fret excessively," Clement remarked with a bemused shake of his head. "I thought it was I who harbored such fervent desire for a dragon, not you."

Laena merely chuckled, diverting her gaze from her husband to her daughter once more. "Observe the king, my love. Since the Dragonkeepers assumed their watch outside our nursery, he has been besieged by eager lords seeking the same boon he bestowed upon us. He even secluded himself in his chamber yesterday, overwhelmed by the demands upon him."

"Yes," Clement agreed with a chuckle of his own. "Today, I have instructed my household guards to keep the lords at bay from the king. It is the least I can do. However, I fail to discern the correlation between your concerns and the king's predicament."

"There is no correlation," Laena replied with a teasing look at her husband. "I merely seek to demonstrate that the desire for a dragon is not solely yours."

"Ah, I see," Clement laughed, gently caressing Laena's cheek. His laughter softened into a smile. "Will you join us at the grounds today?"

Laena shook her head. "I cannot. Who will tend to Rhaena?"

"The half-dozen Dragonkeepers surrounding us?" Clement raised an eyebrow.

Laena sighed. "You understand my meaning, husband."

"Very well, your loss." Clement simply said. "I will declare my victory today for the gods so that they will bless our family."

Laena emits a rare scoff. "You are full of hubris as always. Declaring victory before even fighting."

"Reminds me of the time we first met." Clement remarked with a smirk, planting a kiss upon her forehead. "Until this evening, then."

With that, Clement departed the chamber, leaving Laena alone with the Dragonkeepers, her gaze unwavering from her daughter.

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On this particular day, the atmosphere differed markedly from preceding ones as the sun cast its radiant gaze upon the assembled throng. Contrary to any notion that the ongoing tilt might weary them, the spectators seemed captivated. Ser Clement Celtigar and Prince Daemon Targaryen, mounted on their steeds at opposite ends, presented a sight of weariness and disarray. The tilt had endured for quite some time, evidenced by the accumulation of shattered lances, nearly twenty in count, strewn about the field. 

Their attendants promptly supplied fresh lances and shields, and both competitors, fatigued as they were, guided their mounts lethargically to their respective positions at the tilt's barrier, weapons at the ready. As anticipation rippled through the crowd, they charged forth, eager for the outcome of this latest jousting bout following numerous stalemates.

However, Prince Daemon, employing guile, swiftly altered his lance's trajectory, obstructing Clement's horse and endangering its legs. Gasps erupted from the audience, and even the king, incensed by the spectacle, rose in indignation. Yet, the deed was done, Clement's steed colliding with the lance, sending both horse and rider crashing to the ground, the impact first striking Clement's chest, his helmet dislodged.

Dazed and bloodied, Clement managed to stir, his faculties gradually returning. Spotting an approaching figure, though unable to discern his words due to the ringing sounds in his ears, Clement understood his intent. Disregarding the inquiry, he beckoned to his squire.

"Fetch my axe!" he commanded, his voice tinged with half fury. The crowd erupted in unified acclaim, some among the commonfolk, caught in the fervor, casting jeers towards the prince.

As clarity returned to his vision and hearing, Clement observed an attendant bearing his axe, the Pincer, seizing it swiftly before reclaiming his fallen shield and helmet. With resolve, he locked eyes with the awaiting prince, Dark Sister already drawn, the Targaryen sigil emblazoned upon his shield, a smirk evident beneath his ebony helm. Clement drew a deep breath, gripping his axe tightly, advancing upon the prince with steady steps.

As Clement approached, the prince mirrored his movements, shifting his stance and brandishing his sword towards his adversary with a chuckle. He initiated the attack, swiftly swinging Dark Sister towards Clement's head, but Clement adeptly evaded, stepping back just enough to narrowly avoid the blade.

In retaliation, Clement struck back, using the back of his axe to deliver a blow. Despite the prince's attempt to block with his shield, the sharp nail-like back of the axe easily pierced through the flimsy tourney shield, though it failed to land a direct hit on Daemon's arm. Seizing the opportunity, the prince delivered a kick to Clement, dislodging the axe from the shield and causing Clement to stagger, allowing the prince to attempt another strike with his sword.

However the heir of Claw Isle quickly recovered, raising his axe, The Pincer, to meet Dark Sister in a clash of metal. The resounding impact echoed loudly, its sound half a song half a cry, later reported to be audible to spectators half a league away, yet the two knights remained focused, disregarding the ringing in their ears as they pressed on with their duel.

With Dark Sister lodged in the base of the head of The Pincer, Daemon attempted to drag the sword towards Clement's hand, but Clement deftly maneuvered to prevent it. Stepping back momentarily, they both quickly resumed their engagement, with Clement unleashing a powerful swing of his axe, nearly cleaving Daemon's shield in two with each strike a quick moment after due to the axe's lightweight nature. Undeterred, Clement repeated the assault, reducing the shield to tatters, leaving Daemon vulnerable.

Seizing the opportunity, Daemon retaliated with another kick, causing Clement to stagger once more, before thrusting his sword towards his opponent. Despite Clement's attempt to block, the Valyrian steel blade pierced through his shield and into his arm, eliciting a cry of agony from Clement and gasps from the onlookers.

Despite the pain, Clement retaliated by headbutting Daemon, forcing him to withdraw the sword, causing Clement's arm to bleed profusely. With only one hand fully functional, Clement swung his axe downward, with Daemon barely managing to block the blow using Dark Sister, holding it on the two ends of the sword, and the clash of metal once again resonating loudly.

As if it was his plan in the first place, Clement then pulled his axe towards him, tyring to disarm Daemon by hooking the sword away. As the force was overwhelming, the sword cut Daemon's hand that was holding the end that was sharp, causing blood to spill, his grip faltering for a moment, and the sword was pulled away from Daemon's hand, providing Clement with the opportunity to kick him in the chest, sending Daemon crashing to the ground. With the prince unarmed and vulnerable, Clement brought his axe down beside the prince's head, asserting his dominance.

Breathing heavily, Clement uttered, "Yield."

Daemon merely looked towards Clement's bleeding arm, blood continuously pouring to the ground, but the duel has finished, and Daemon finally raised his hand in surrender, prompting the crowd to cheer like beasts in celebration.

Clement sighed in relief, in his mind doubting himself if he could continue the duel for a couple more minutes, before walking towards the dais of the king, who was still standing and looked half enraged for the stunt Daemon had pulled. Clement simply ignored the king's state, and bowed to him. After that, his vision was blurry, but he remembered that his household knights rushed him to see a maester, to attend to his wounds.

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Around the same time, at the time when the duel lingered unresolved, Lady Laena remained seated where she had been since morning, now accompanied by her sons. Gaemon engrossed in a tome with a servant, while Aemon kept a curious eye on the egg. Another attendant stood by Laena, arranging food before her. After completing her task, she departed nervously, slipping past the Dragonkeepers and exiting the room.

"Mother, what of the Cannibal?" Aemon suddenly questioned. "Can I tame that? He seems formidable."

"He is a wild dragon. An old one at that." Laena replied, masking her true sentiments regarding Aemon's implications. "He has never been trained by a Targaryen before. Even we sometimes doubt if he is a descendant of Targaryen dragons that have been brought from Valyria."

"But he is large. You said that he might be even bigger than Vhagar." Aemon continued his rambling. 

"He might indeed." Laena simply said. "It is unclear. No one has ever to see him up close and live to tell the tales."

"Then you are a liar, mother. Vhagar isn't the largest." Aemon innocently accused.

Laena raised her brow and chuckled in amusement. "How dare you call your mother a liar? If you wish to tame it, proceed at your own risk. I shall shed no tears if you fall victim to its rage. And should you succeed, do not expect my aid in sourcing its food. The Cannibal seems to favor dragons for meals alone. Good luck on petitioning the king for weekly dragon sacrifices to sate it."

"Don't say that, mother…" Aemon whined. "I didn't mean it…"

"Then don't repeat that again." Laena scolded. 

Aemon sulked, inching closer to his sister's egg. "What of Vermithor? Can I attempt to tame him?"

"If you possess the requisite courage," Laena remarked more approvingly. "Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, earned his moniker for a reason, my dear. Approach with bravery, lest you become his next meal."

"Perhaps I could give him sheep first to eat." Aemon rambled once more. "So his stomach is full, then I will try to tame him…"

Abruptly, a distant ringing interrupted, causing Gaemon to startle and drop his book. Laena, unfamiliar with the sound, was bewildered until Aemon drew her attention to the egg.

"Mother…" he whispered, and Laena turned to him, to see the boy pointing his finger at the egg.

Laena frowned, and walked towards it. She inspected the egg, and to her surprise, a crack appeared at the very top of the egg. Aemon saw it too, and became excited upon the sight.

Another ringing echoed, this time unmistakably from the tourney grounds. Rhaena began to wail loudly, but before Laena could soothe her, she heard a distinct crack from the egg, followed by a tug from the Dragonkeepers, where he pulled her and her son away from the egg.

"Se drōmon iksos sikagon, issa riñnykeā." said the dragonkeeper that had pulled her away, informing her that the egg is truly hatching.

Moments later, a small dragon hatchling emerged, emitting a soft, endearing screech. It made its way to Rhaena's cradle, nestling against her for warmth. Rhaena's cries ceased as soon as she felt the hatchling's sight, leaving Laena momentarily breathless at the sight.

"It's so small..." Aemon whispered eagerly, turning to his mother. "May I touch it?"

"No," Laena asserted firmly, prompting the boy to pout in vexation.

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A/N: Honestly, this chapter's a mess. I kept rewriting it again and again because I missed a couple of lores(How dragon hatching works, clashing of valyrian steel). don't know how it turned out honestly, let me know what you think.