Good King, Bad King

Meanwhile, in an inn dominated by blue capes.

"I failed you, my lady." 

Daman knelt at her seat, lowering his head. The rest also had guilt-ridden expressions, except Valaegor who stood against the wall with his arms crossed. Rhaerra observed the sight, sighing.

"No... it's not your fault at all. You did your very best. I cannot say that for everyone - especially Valaegor." She turned to him. "You were far too sloppy and full of yourself."

"Hmph." Valaegor shook his head. "I lost to a cheap trick."

"If you had defeated Ser Arthur, the tides of the entire match would have permanently shifted in our favour. Your duel with him may as well have been the deciding factor."

"..." He clenched his fists. "I won't lose to him again."

"You might not even have another chance."

"If he loses to someone before me, that is. It matters little since I will be the champion of the duelling event regardless."

"Is that so?" Rhaerra didn't look too amused.

"It is so!"

"Hey, hey... duelling champion? Val, you must be forgetting that I'm in the bracket." Gaegor chuckled.

"I don't want to hear anything from a fool who got dominated by a woman." Valaegor mocked his fellow comrade, shaking his head. "Watching it was too embarrassing."

"It was a two-on-one against the person who bested you." Gaegor's eyes lit up with a competitive edge. "If your sorry ass didn't get beaten, I would've handled her."

"Big Baegel is the STRONGEST!"

BANG.

Valaegor and Gaegor watched in terror as the strangely silent Baegel slammed the table and broke one of its legs from the impact. 

"Yes, you are definitely the strongest." Valaegor nervously chuckled.

"No argument from me..." Gaegor shook his head.

"Wait, no..." Baegel stroked his chin in deep thought. "The true strongest is King Storm, but he doesn't really count. Storm King is in another world. Big Baegel is the strongest man. King Storm is the strongest storm."

"Is he King Storm or Storm King?" Taelor laughed

"Men..." Rhaerra chuckled, shaking her head. "Since I gained inspiration from that defeat, it is not so great of a stain. Tomorrow, however, I expect one of you to grasp absolute victory. If any of you have to face each other, avoid a drawn-out duel and unnecessary wounds. Better yet, the worse fighter should just concede."

"... And if we can't determine the worse fighter?" Ballio questioned.

"Set your ego aside." Daman sighed, shaking his head. "We are all aware of who is most capable in single combat."

"Mhm, you all do." Valaegor grinned, nodding as looked at Gaegor. "It's me... isn't that right, my little brother?"

"I'm not so sure anymore - are you?"

"Whoever disobeys my instructions will be sold off to the Night's Watch." Rhaerra stroked her chin with a seemingly serious expression. "I'm sure King Edric would appreciate my gesture in giving away one of my most capable warriors to such a noble cause. Would anyone like to go up North and see some wights, mayhaps even one of the Others? Slay some wildlings, eat half-rotten apples and bread tougher than steel? Sounds like parad-"

"No, my lady!"

All of them spoke up in almost perfect unison.

"That's what I thought."

~

"We never spoke to each other despite the opportunity arising numerous times, Sandor Clegane."

Oberyn Martell sat down the end of the table facing the Hound, pouring himself some wine. The Hound didn't look too interested in a conversation.

"Fuck off."

"Not too hard to imagine why." Oberyn chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a pity, about the Mountain. I had intended to avenge my sister personally."

"Should've been faster." The Hound remarked, his frown easing slightly. He even grinned a little, recalling the day. "I killed the bastard first."

"So I've heard. How was it, killing your own brother?"

"The best day of my life."

"Would you share the details over some Dornish red?" Oberyn offered the bottle he had been holding on to. "I've had a few cups already-"

"Give it here." The Hound grabbed the bottle, raised it over his head and downed it like a waterfall. By the time he lowered it, less than half remained. He had a peculiar expression as the taste settled. "This wine tastes like a prince's piss."

"It is rich, indeed," Oberyn replied with a proud look. "Nothing like the red water that comes from the Arbour or anything you could find in King's Landing, for that matter."

"Wine is wine; it doesn't matter to me where it's made."

"I wouldn't expect you to have much of a refined taste. Regardless, since you've taken the entire bottle, the least you could do is share the story of the Mountain's fall."

He took a mouthful of wine before wiping his mouth.

"I spent a dozen minutes smashing his armour, got him to the ground and bashed his head in more times than I could count."

"... I never saw you as the most eloquent of people, but surely you can tell the story better?" Oberyn laughed, shaking his head in disappointment. 

"Ask a bloody singer." The Hound had more of the wine, downing it all down before slamming the bottle on the table. "They will tell you how the Hound danced around the Mountain, biting his arms, legs, knees, elbows and throat. They'd tell you that while the kin-slaying Hound was savouring the flesh of the Mountain, an arrow descended from a mountain."

"Oh?" Oberyn looked interested. "Is it true?"

"The little bastard saved my life." The Hound almost made a smile. "It was a rain of arrows, one after the other. Each one would take the life of a knight, lord or capable fighter. The men who had wished to call him a coward were either dead with an arrow through their skull or pisssing themselves all the way back to the Westerlands."

"One would think that a man like you would consider the bow a coward's weapon."

"It is." The Hound nodded. "He wields the bow because he fears the death of his allies and not the battle itself. He would face an army by himself if it came to it."

"The bravest coward," Oberyn remarked. "These two words oppose each other yet seem rather fitting. I believe he truly is remarkable. One moment, he can seem no different from a boy his age, full of smiles and laughter... and in the next - he becomes a storm of fury entirely focused on crushing whatever obstacle stands in his path."

"It makes you wonder, what drives a boy like that? What binds him to the crown?"

"There isn't anything left for him." The Hound replied, standing up from his seat. "The Realm took his old life and ripped it out of reach."

"... Some boys are thrown into the fire, dying or becoming men earlier than they should," Oberyn remarked as the Hound walked off. "It's an unfortunate truth of this world."

~

In the Black Cells.

I walked through the darkness of the black cells with a torch. Though the torch's blaze wasn't anything to write home about, it shined like a beacon of light because the cells had no other source of light whatsoever. 

If this was one big misunderstanding, then it would be pretty awkward. Even spending a day in these cells wouldn't be fun at all. Even so, I was quite certain these four goons were being especially aggressive. 

From so much fighting, I know when a man wants to kill me and when he doesn't.

"Good evening, gents." I smiled, taking a look at them. "One day in here, and you all seem to have aged a few years."

"I didn't do anything wrong, Your Grace. I swear it - I was just trying to win!"

"Killing me would be a big win, indeed." I nodded, keeping my smile. "How much did your master offer you? I am most curious."

"I have no master..."

"Neither do I; this is surely a misunderstanding."

"See, I'd love to think that it is." I clapped my hands. "Ah, how sweet that would be. I let you guys out, and we all go about our usual days. I don't waste my time dealing with garbage like you; get to go sleep a bit early, a rainbow pops out in the morning, winged unicorns start flying across it, and the shit in King's Landing all turns into gold. Wouldn't that all be wonderful?"

"Bastard... you're not intent on letting us out, even if we're innocent?"

"Ah, bastard, is it? It's like music to my ears." I looked down at the one who spoke back at me, grinning slightly. "Honestly? I'll let you all go off scot-free if you do just one thing for me. Tell me who placed the bounty on my head, and I'll forget that any of this happened."

"..."

Some of their expressions changed.

"I'm not even lying." I chuckled, shaking my head. "You could return to your wives and children if you have any. Have a hot meal, see the morning light, mayhaps even drink some wine if you can afford it. There's so much beauty in this world and you'd be losing on all of it... for what? Some rich man in velvet who doesn't give a single fuck about your existence? Will he lose sleep over your deaths?"

"Let's be smart for once. What do I even have to gain from killing you lot? Absolutely fuck all. Nothing."

"This could all be just a passing tide in our lives."

"... Skreknis Zo... Ghozkun." One of them spoke up. "A master from Slaver's Bay that happened to be in Myr at the time."

'What the fuck?' I raised an eyebrow in confusion. 'WHO the fuck is that guy? What stakes does he have in my death?'

"Is the lie truly worth death?" Lightning flickered in my left hand as I raised it, extending my index finger and pointing it at the one who spoke that name. "Think very carefully..."

"It was him, I swear it by everything! He didn't say why or how, he just wanted you dead and offered ten thousand gold coins for it."

"Ten thousand..." My frown deepened. 'Since he's from the other side of the world, I don't have the time nor resources to counter. But that doesn't answer why... is it even the right name?'

"Today, I'll have the truth." I determined, looking down on them. "No matter what method I must use."

"NOOOOO, STOP, AHH-"

"I SWEAR I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ELSE!"

"YOU SAID YOU'D LET US GO ARGHHH!"

...

After torturing them all with bursts of lightning, I discovered nothing new and simply wasted my time. I was irritated, slightly. I expected a name I actually knew. In desperation, they had begun saying random lords in the Seven Kingdoms like Tyrion Lannister, Doran Martell and even Renly Baratheon in hopes of me stopping.

It always lead back to Skreknis Zo Ghozkun, however. The master who hired them.

I looked at their four scorched bodies with a dissatisfied expression.

Interrogating people clearly wasn't my forte...

"It seems that you got it right the first time with your down-to-earth approach." Raiden Shogun remarked.

"Yeah..." I sighed, shaking my head. "Still, something about this doesn't seem right. I have no idea who that man is."

"Perhaps this slave master was nothing more than a middleman with someone above him pulling the strings? A wise man with vast amounts of wealth would not put himself in the line of fire in case a plot backfired... for, in this case, you would have his name and become aware that he is an enemy."

"... That makes more sense." I stroked my chin. "Yes, that is more believable. The true ringmaster keeps his hands clean completely while the middleman can fuck off to the other side of the world where I can't reach him..."

"Mhm."

"It's quite frustrating." I chuckled, shaking my head. "There is no way for me to counter, at least in the present. All I can do is keep living as normal."

"It would be quite difficult to assassinate you, regardless." Raiden Shogun remarked. 

"You are surrounded by some of the mightier warriors in the world while you, yourself, are a force that no simple mortal should be able to combat at your best. Your one and only weakness that makes you vulnerable is exhaustion... and relaxed temperament at times. A King can't afford to lower his guard for even a moment."

"Sounds like a path to losing my mind after becoming paranoid over every little thing and having no way to let loose a little," I countered, shaking my head. "I don't want to start seeing things that don't even exist in the first place. Maybe you can handle all of that and then some without faltering... but I'm not so sure I could hack it without losing myself."

She looked at me in her purple, caring, gaze as if she wanted to wrap her arms around me.

"... You are never alone, Edric Storm."

"Relying solely on one person isn't what I'd call healthy, either. That's the mistake that I made before."

It looked like she wanted to say something but didn't.

I blinked at her, and she shook her head.

"Nothing. Go along with your night."

I shrugged, walking past her.

I should get a good night's sleep and clear my head.

'What will the duels entail, I wonder... will the Kingsguard keep the bet alive or sell the bag along with my armour?'

I chuckled.

'Competitions are a whole lot more fun with bets involved, after all...'