The Victory Of None

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𝕬𝖘𝖕𝖍𝖔𝖉𝖊𝖑

CHAPTER 2, THE VICTORY OF NONE

"Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories." Alaenna listened to her father's speech with great pride. Her gaze towards the crowd in front was quickly redirected as Rhaenyra's quick-heeled steps echoed off the wood. Watching her duck between people almost made her laugh. Rhaenyra promptly passed her, sitting on the other side of Alicent.

"And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news... that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors!" The crowd cheered, applauding the news. "May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!" The start of the tourney had only ramped up the energy of the surrounding crowd. The sounds comically changed from loud cheering to ah's and oh's as poor knights were flung from their horses. Alaenna had never been able to enjoy the acts of needless fighting, but if it kept the family's appearances up and the common folk entertained, how would she stop it.

"A mystery knight?" Rhaenyra asked. Her sister had kept tabs on knights coming to and fro the keep. Perhaps Daemon's influence on her had been part of why she enjoyed tourneys as much as the typical viewer.

"No, a Cole? of the Stormlands."

"I've never heard of House Cole." Any inquisition was halted by the appearance of Lord Boremund Baratheon. A cousin to the lot of them, he, however, was noticeably less titled.

"Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of "The Queen Who Never Was."" The crowd loudly cheered as Rhaenys stood with a Velaryon-inspired laurel wreath.

"Good fortune to you, cousin," Rhaenys said politely. Will never explicitly said allowed; she could always tell that the succession had left a sore spot in the heart of the Princess' lord husband. Corlys was an ambitious man, that much was for sure, but his family's needs seemed to take precedence in most cases. A trait she admired in the sailor.

"I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it." Lord Boremund trotted off to face his opponent. As the horses gained speed, Boremund was promptly jolted off. His white horse went off without him, leaving him face down in the dirt. Some luck he had.

As Ser Cole claimed his victory from the crowd, applause ramped up. Looking around, her velaryon cousin seemed to be in agreement with her. His applause was shallow, lacking sound and excitement. Laenor was older than her, but on any given day, he was more docile than Rhaenyra. She and the Velaryon children got on well. As kids, days were spent running through the gardens when they could sneak her away from her septa.

Nights were spent between the three in her quarters until Laenor was removed from the girls. She and Laena would stay up for hours theorizing the whereabouts of Vhagar and Vermithor. Vhagar was much too large for most caverns but would circle around the Targaryen strongholds when she felt like it. Both girls had been given the unlucky straw of unfertilized eggs; Laenor, however, had Seasmoke.

"They'll all be fine, Laenor; the maestars will take a look at them" She grabbed the boy's hand, lying her head on his shoulder. She knew Laena was more physical, while Laenor was more emotional. She never thought he was less of a man for it. "We can go listen to music when this is all over; we must bear with it until then."

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The Drums suddenly ramped up again as a dragon-adorned knight made his way onto the tourney field." Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!" Everyone was on the edge of their seat as the prince pranced down the line of younger knights. Briefly, he turned, catching a glowering look from Otto Hightower. Then he chose. "For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King."

The drumming continued once more as the two began. Ser Gwayne, adorned in green, rushed at the dragon prince, almost knocking him off. As they turned, Daemon swung his body to the side, sliding across the rail, targeting Gwayne's horse. The young knight was sent flying just as quickly as attendants rushed to treat him.

Daemon trotted up proudly, and his nieces greeted him promptly."Nicely done, Uncle." "Thank you, Princess. Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it." Alaenna glanced at the Hightower girl. Daemon knew just how to add insult to injury. Gaining favor after unseating the Hightower boy was another way to rub it in Otto's face."Good luck, my Prince."

As they sat back down, the faint murmurs of a whisper were caught. She didn't know what it was; Otto was far too good at secrets to be a poor whisperer. However, the sight of her father's face and the incredible speed he took to leave was alarming.

She tried to ignore the dark thoughts surrounding her mother. Her soft smile had briefly turned into a grimace as sounds of bashing and yelling filled the field. Her cousins noticed Laena and Laenor leaning to see her downturned face.

"What's wrong," Laenor whispered into her ear. Laena attempted to turn back and watch the carnage through, but the grip she had on her brother's arm told him she was anything other than pleased.

"I can't, Laenor, what if she-" her panicked words had seemed to attract the attention of the boy's mother as she leaned forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, Alaenna? The septa can take you elsewhere." She felt like a child again, being removed from events and placed under the care of septas, where she'd learn how to cross stitch or other needless womanly hobbies.The threat of a septa, and the loudening whispers from the lords around her, steeled her resolve. "I'm alright, just a little tired. I woke up late and missed breaking the fast, is all."

She tried to focus on the entry of Ser Cole and her uncle. It would be the victors' match, a decider for the actual winner. Most had assumed Daemon would win based on his prowess, but Ser Cole proved to be a dark horse. He was here for something greater than winning and pissing off old fools; he wanted recognition as something more than 'Cole of the Stormlands."

"Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!" The two raced toward each other with unyielding assurance. The yells of the crowd cacophony the impact of Cole's lance. Daemon had tried to straighten himself using the rail to no avail.

"Sword!" He shouted, yanking Dark Sister from a poor squire. Alaenna sat on the edge of her seat praying to old gods and knew that her uncle wouldn't end up like the poor boys, whose heads had been turned to mush.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a contest of arms!" Daemon Set off towards Ser Cole, who held a Morningstar in his hand. The men exchanged blows, each of their shields taking the brunt. She couldn't look, but looking away meant she might miss everything altogether.

In Daemon's premature celebration Cole had struck him down. They struggled against each other for a brief period before Ser Cole held a dagger firmly at her uncle's throat. "Yield. Yield!" Alaenna had hoped he would; no amount of pride should mean life.

As Daemon tapped out, refusing Cole's hand, Ser Cole was left to the spoils of his victory. He strutted to the pen that held Targaryen royals and lords alike.

"Gods. He's Dornish." Alice whispered loudly.

"I was hoping to ask for the Princess Rhaenyra's favor," He was confident, she thought. It made sense; few bested her rogue uncle, even fewer to have the luxury of asking for a princess's favor. Rhaenyra stood, grabbing her red-leafed laurel before tossing it onto Cole's lance.

"I wish you luck, Ser Criston," Rhaenyra smiled from their balcony.

"Princess." Cole excused himself, and the festivities went to an intermittent. Only the lower lords' new wards would be left to compete at this time.

Alaenna took this as a chance to grab Rhaenyra. She was given a confused look as she took her sister's hand. Once she registered her sister's unease, her feature softened. "What's wrong? Did someone say something to you? If it's about not giving your favor, I'm sure you'll get a chance next year."

Alaenna shook her head, leaning in, "Father's missed half of it. I'm worried as to why he isn't back yet. None of the lords here would let me leave without a septa; please come with me, Nyra."

The elder steamed her resolve, realizing her sister had been right. Where was their father? "Let's be off then." Rhaenyra tightened her grasp on Alaenna before telling the lords they were off to see their uncle. Once out of view, they both picked up the, running throughout the keep, earning strange looks from the staff and guards.

"We'll get there and see it was all nothing; they would've just wanted time with the babe." Alaenna had hoped her sister was right.