The Melee

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The Following 15 Chapters are available for Patrons.

Chapter 54 (Family Reunion), Chapter 55 (The Dragonbinder Horn), Chapter 56 (Family Bonding), Chapter 57 (A Bond Between Siblings), Chapter 58 (Father and Son), Chapter 59 (A Targaryen Love), Chapter 60 (The Quiet Wolf), Chapter 61 (Mother and Son), Chapter 62 (A Night of Passion), Chapter 63 (Silverwing and Morning), Chapter 64 (The Jousting), Chapter 65 (A Dragon of House Targaryen), Chapter 66 (A Threat or Salvation), Chapter 67 (Cannibal, The Wild Dragon), and Chapter 68 (Daenerys, The Dragon Princess) are already available for Patrons.

As the entrances into the melee grounds opened up, Aemon once more checked his armor and weapons one last time. A sword and a small sword strapped to his side alongside a shield he held tightly by the handle, and Dark Sister strapped in case he lost all the weapons. His armor was all still there as well. Unlike many of his opponents, Aemon wore the colors red and blue, with a Wolf head on his breastplate. The plate protecting his chest blended rather well with the chainmail surrounding it, the metal having been worn out a long time ago, losing its shine with the many dents and holes accumulated over the years.

Being the first time in the Melee, Aemon felt his heart pounding in his chest. He felt alive, holding his Valyrian Steel Sword in his hands. He felt as if he could beat anyone in his path.

The melee came first before the joust, an exciting warm-up for many and something Aemon was far more willing to conform to. Afterward would be the Archery contest, which Val had signed herself up for. While her skills with a bow were nothing to pay attention to, she still took the opportunity as a way for people to possibly see her skills.

Still, as he fastened his belt and sheathed his blade into its scabbard, the thought of winning still crossed Aemon's mind ever so frantically. The whole realm already knew his worth, killing the Mountain wasn't an easy task, and Aemon had seen the way people had been watching him. Many were now wary of the Bastard of Winterfell, who defeated The Mountain, who was seen as undefeatable, yet, just like every other warrior, he, too, had fallen.

Aemon checked his longsword, sharp and deadly. Great Jon was the one cheering the most. Amongst them, his size made him quite noticeable amongst the people in the arena. Dacey was quiet, holding the mace tightly in her hands. Robb was also quiet, his eyes often glancing at someone in the Audience.

Aemon's eyes went to the one he knew was the most dangerous amongst them, a beast dressed as a man, his sword Dawn sheathed, right now holding his Valyrian Sword instead. Aemon wondered if he could force Arthur Dayne to use Dawn. A sword that was said to have been made out of a mineral that came from the skies, that's the reason many in Westeros often saw Dawn as the best Sword ever to be crafted in Westeros History.

Aemon's eyes went to Prince Aegon. He had to give it to him. His stance and the way he was holding his sword was quite good. Aemon knew he wasn't someone he could easily defeat.

The horns blew out in the distance, snapping him away from his thoughts. It was time.

King Rhaegar stood up, and all participants perked up as silence overtook the Tourney Grounds.

"I'm happy to start the Melee. I wish all the men and women who will show their worth here today Good Luck. I don't want to annoy you any longer. Let the game begins." Rhaegar shouted, with many of the lords chuckling at his words.

A wave of his hand was the signal for the standard bearers to lift up the banners and the announcer to begin the game.

"By the grace of the Seven!" he started, reading from a finely decorated parchment worn from use over the years. "You warriors and knights, ever brave, gather here to fight for glory and honor! With blessings from His Grace, King Rhaegar Targaryen the First, take up your positions, and let the Melee begin!"

While this was a free-for-all, the beginning of the melee still had half-and-half participants going to their respective parts of the Arena. The rules themselves more or less encourage chaos to spread upon the first clash.

With around twenty of his fellow combatants alongside him, Aemon looked over to the other side, the same amount of fighters opposite them. Even here, in the melee meant for the less esteemed members of the tourney's participants, Aemon stuck out. He had defeated the Mountain. Many were eager to test their skills against him. In the corner of his eye, he noticed him, one of the few warriors of Westeros who was said to rival Arthur Dayne, Jaime Lannister, the Golden Lion of Castely Rock.

Another Aemon knew to be wary of was Oberyn Martell. The man was known to fight dirty, and Aemon wouldn't be surprised if his spear was covered in poison. Even if that was against the rules, it depended on whether or not, Oberyn felt like breaking the rules.

Arthur Dayne, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, and Oberyn Martell were the only fighters Aemon knew to be wary of and not to underestimate. Still, Aemon knew he had defeated that big pig. He could win The Melee.

Another that caught his eye for a second was Gerold Dayne. He hadn't heard much of him. The fame of Arthur had cast a huge shadow over him, he wasn't known, and Aemon only knew him as Prince Doran's lapdog.

"The team representing Dorne is Ser Gerold Dayne, Ser Daemon Sand, Obara Sand, and The Red Viper, Prince Oberyn Martell." The Dornish cheered for their warriors, and Queen Elia applauded.

"The Team to represent The Reach is Ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Baelor Hightower, and Ser Garlan Tyrell," he announced, which was soon followed by cheers from the Reach Lords. Lady Margaery, who was sitting beside Rhaenys, applauded.

"The team to represent Stormlands is Ser Cortnay Penrose, Ser Balon Swann, and Lord Beric Dondarrion," he announced, and Stormlands cheered for them.

"The team representing The Crownlands is Ser Arthur Dayne, The Sword of The Morning, Ser Barristan Selmy, The Crown Prince, Aegon Targaryen, and Ser Jonothor Darry."

"The team to represent Westerlands is Ser Addam Marbrand, The Hound, Sandor Clegane, and Ser Jaime Lannister, The Golden Lion," the cheers from Westerlands were the loudest for Ser Jaime.

"The Team to represent Riverlands, Lord Tytos Blackwood, Ser Jason Mallister, Ser Brynden Tully the Blackfish." Many lords from different lands applauded The Blackfish. "And Lord of Riverrun, Edmure Tully," the applause died down right away.

The Iron Islands didn't come for the tourney, and no one cared for them.

"The team to represent The Vale is Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Lyn Corbray, Ser Andar Royce, and Lord Yohn Royce, the Bronze Yohn," he announced and was followed by cheers from The Vale.

And the last kingdom to be mentioned.

"The Team to represent The North is Jory Cassel, Lord Jon Umber, The GreatJon, Lady Dacey Mormont, Lord Robb Stark, and Jon Snow," he announced, and many cheered for Jon, calling him the Mountain's Killer.

The horns were soon raised, and the King signaled to begin. With a mighty sound, the tourney became flooded with cheers from the onlookers, which in turn, were quickly deafened by the thunderous charge of the combatants toward one another. Unlike many of those around him, Aemon was not aiming for anyone in particular. He pulled his shield up and simply charged forward, being prepared to knock whoever was first in his sight onto the ground.

His long sword gripped tightly, and Aemon prepared himself for the impact. A rather larger fellow seemed to be his target, and the two collided, as did dozens of others, and soon the storm of combat had begun. His eyes locked on the first enemy.

"You are?"

"Gerold Dayne, The Darkstar, bastard." The man boasted, pointing his longsword. Aemon thought the name was too stupid.

"Did a child come up with that name?" Aemon genuinely asked. This earned a snarl from Gerold, who charged forward; Aemon blocked the pitiful attacks quickly, parrying them. He wasted no time punching his face; hearing a Snap sound, Aemon knew he had broken his nose.

His heart beating in his throat, Aemon blocked a swing from him; Gerold let out a war cry as he kept swinging at Aemon. The prince kept his distance, the blood leaking from his nose. Docking at one heavy strike, Aemon moved to his left; Gerold's back was unguarded, and with one strike, his Valyrian Sword cut his skin. Gerold let out a cry, falling to his knees; Aemon put his sword right under his chin, forcing him to look up at him.

"Yield?"

"...I Yield." The man surrendered, and everyone in the Audience cheered.

Turning his attention back to the fight, it seemed Arthur Dayne had defeated Great Jon, and Robb was fighting Lord Jaime. Lady Dacey was fighting someone very tall with blonde hair. Aemon knew he had no time to celebrate, as his next opponent came in the form of Prince Aegon Targaryen himself.

Audience

"Ohh! It seems our son will try his luck with Jon Snow." Elia said, concerned for him. She saw how Jon fought against Gerold. She knew Aegon had a chance of winning but an equal chance to lose.

Rhaegar squeezed her hand for comfort, his eyes looking at the arena with excitement and fear for his son.

"Don't worry, my love. Ser Arthur is right there, and so is Ser Barristan. Our son is covered in Armor." Rhaegar said reassuringly, kissing her cheek. Elia smiled upon hearing that, already feeling better. Her hand squeezed his.

Her eyes went to Rhaella and noticed that she was almost silent, but Elia could tell Rhaella's whole attention was on Jon Snow and Aegon, but how she was looking at the fight.

Elia knew her mother-in-law wasn't concerned only for Aegon's wellbeing.

"Your fight against Ser Gerold was impressive, Lord Jon," Aegon spoke respectfully as they circled one another.

"Thank you, your grace. To receive a compliment from you is an honor." Aemon said, feeling a little strange that his first talk with his brother was in a fight.

With that said, Aemon rushed forward, holding nothing back. The audience gasped, seeing Jon Snow and The Crown Prince exchanging blows. Their blows rang in the arena like horns, blow after blow. Aemon swung again, his Sword blocked by his shield. Chunks of the shield fell off after each blow it received from the Valyrian Sword.

Aegon ducked at the last attack, the sword almost hitting his sword arm. With one chance, Aegon hit his enemy in the torso, Aemon spat out saliva as his brother tried to strike again, but Aemon jumped to his left as Aegon tried to attack; Aemon stood up quickly as Aegon moved towards him, not allowing him time to breathe, Aemon hit his legs making Aegon stumble back, giving Aemon enough time to stand up just as Aegon did.

With a war cry, his throat almost burning from the heat, Aegon swung truly, his sword hitting steel, but it wasn't the Valyrian Steel as Aemon pulled out his short sword blocking his swing, much to the shock of everyone. Aemon took that opportunity to punch his brother in the helmet before kicking him in the chest, falling to the ground.

Aemon brought the sword close to his face before raising an eyebrow.

"I yield," Aegon said, raising his arms in surrender.

The Audience cheered for the winner. Aemon turned to face whoever was left and noticed Dacey was still fighting the... her helmet had dropped, revealing to be a woman with blonde hair fighting Dacey!

Rhaegar

"He fought well. Aegon showed that he could handle himself, Even against someone who killed The Mountain. This loss will be a lesson to him." His mother spoke the moment Aegon gave up; Rhaegar reluctantly nodded; despite losing, he felt nothing but pride for his son. He was everything to him. But he had to admit that Jon Snow was proving himself to be a warrior worthy of the titles he was getting.

He wondered if Jon would fight Dayne. He knew Jon stood no chance against his friend, but it would be quite something to see his friend have a good fight after such a long time. The thought filled him with excitement.

Rhaegar saw Lady Dacey lose against Lady Brienne, she was quite tall, but her choice for her next enemy wasn't a good one. Ser Brynden Tully.

His attention turned to Oberyn facing Arthur, of all people. Rhaegar had to suppress a laugh when Elia sighed heavily.

"He will never change," Elia said with clear annoyance as Arthur Dayne won the fight without even using Dawn.

The Audience cheering made him turn to see that Ser Brynden had won against Lady Brienne and was now fighting against Lord Beric Dondarrion.

Aemon Targaryen

For one long hour, they all fought. Many fell, and others surrendered.

Battered, bruised, and tired beyond belief, Aemon stood alongside a Few or so other fighters. He began a duel with some knight, most likely part of a wealthier house if his armor was anything to go by. Clad in pure plate save for the tabard around his chest, the shining armor had long been dirtied during the entire melee.

A bridge connecting two towers. That was his opponent's crest. Aemon did not care who he was, merely what way he was going to defeat him with his sword.

"Tired now, are we?" the knight spoke from beneath his helm.

"Only as much as you good Ser.'' While he never cared much for the nobility, even on the battlefield, Aemon made a note to himself to at least grant those he fought against basic courtesy. No one was above that much.

"Tell you what, you surrender right now, and I'll pay you fifty stags for every head you took down when this is all done." he proposed, doing a mocking bow with his arms and one leg forward, leaving him completely exposed to an attack. "On my honor as a knight..."

Aemon had to stop himself from laughing at the man's face. "The honor of any man who would pay his way to the end of a tourney is not a word that aspires much confidence, my friend! You ought to be more careful with your phrasings," he replied cheerily. No matter how exhausted he was, it would be a lie to say he was not enjoying the thrill of it all.

"Very well then, don't say I didn't warn you." The knight had shown his hand, with shield raised forward and sword in a lunging angle he charged towards him. Though running purely on his last bouts of strength, he was not ready to end it all here.

A step towards the side was his action the moment Aemon's opponent plunged his blade forward. With expectation in his motions, the knight was prepared for the move and, from his lunging position, used a last-ditch effort to attack towards Aemon, swinging his sword sideways. Had he reacted a second later, the blade could have easily plunged into his exposed neck, killing him in an instant, yet thankfully, that was not the case. He raised his shield just in time and deflected the blow and in one swift motion, brought his sword down on his opponent's head.

The knight fell limbless, sword and shield falling from his hand as he hit the ground. Another one down.

There was no time to celebrate, however, yet while keeping himself aware of his surroundings, Aemon did take a moment to regain his breath, it was safer, no doubt, yet he could never get over how hard it was to breathe in this helmet of his. Quickly scanning his surroundings, he saw that most of the other fighters had also been taken out while their exchange was happening, leaving only two others for Aemon to face. 'Just two more... two more and I win...' he thought to himself, a stream of hope entering his mind, only for it to be dashed away the moment he saw who he would inevitably face.

Arthur Dayne and Jaime Lannister fought against one another in a heated exchange of blows, the Kingslayer fearlessly facing off against Arthur's famous sword Dawn with a smile on his face and nothing but excitement in his eyes. From where he was looking, Aemon could not fault anyone in the audience for paying little attention to his endeavors. Even he was mesmerized by the dance of blades happening in front of his eyes just a few feet away. He took this chance to rest. These two would tire themselves out, and as the fight went on, Aemon already made peace with himself on how he would lose, intent at this point on just not dying, his little scrap back there being the closest he had been so far to actually biting it all. He wasn't intent on intervening in this bout between the two, using the opportunity to regain what little stamina he could while trying to keep the blood flowing in his veins.

It looked almost like something out of an old wives' tale.

Soon enough, it looked as if The Sword of The Morning was victorious in the battle, dodging one of Jaime's blows and striking the knight over the head with the butt end of his pommel, making him fall, before Jaime surrendered when Dawn was right in front of his face. As the crowd cheered, Arthur Dayne quickly turned his sights on the last remaining opponent. Helmetless and without even a shield to protect him, the Sword of The Morning spotted Aemon as a Hunter would spot its newest prey, ready for a fresh meal. Aemon quickly readied himself.

"Seems it's just you and me then, Ser Knight," Dayne spoke. "Tell me, what's your name?"

"Jon Snow, Arthur Dayne," he replied simply, eyes too focused on Dayne's weapon to be an active part of the conversation.

"From the North, you got quite the fame by slaying The Mountain."

"He was all brute strength. Speed is always one of the most important things." Arthur furrowed a brow at his words.

"You're a regular Duncan the Tall then, aren't you? I suppose that makes me your Targaryen Prince, the big bad dragon for the hero to slay."

"I'd hope not. There are not many knights who've faced dragons and lived to tell the tale, have there, my lord?"

"Hah! Right, you are. Now come, let's end this." he raised his sword with both hands, still haughtily mocking Aemon with a relaxed stance. Aemon felt his heart pounding in his throat, he was tired, but he hoped he could gather enough strength to win this, or at least not lose right away. Aemon noticed that Ser Arthur was using Dawn.

'I suppose he's right.' Aemon thought, 'No point in delaying the inevitable at this point.' while he was certain of his defeat at this point, it did not mean he wouldn't give it an honest effort, and so he charged bravely toward the dragon's gaping mouth.

The moment his first swing had begun, Arthur Dayne looked ready to deflect, parry, and dodge all the same time, yet what he did not seem to expect was a feint, and that was exactly was Aemon performed. Just as he had brought down his weapon, he pulled the sword back and jumped a few feet backward, putting distance between them. With an air of confusion on his face Aemon used this moment to surprise the Sword of The Morning even more. He threw his short sword at the man with everything he got, and though it proved ineffective, it gave Aemon just the right amount of time to disable him and let him move in for a strike. Pulling his blade from the scabbard Aemon struck a sideways swipe with the longsword, paying attention to Ser Arthur's every move. Masterfully, his opponent recovered just at the right time and blocked the attack in a single stroke. His trump card was gone, and there was no more element of surprise. A flurry of blows soon descended, and Aemon quickly began struggling to keep up with the Best Warrior, eventually just putting his shield dead forward to his opponent.

The act of desperation did not go unnoticed by Arthur Dayne, it seemed, as the Sword of The Morning quickly maneuvered his blade around Aemon's defenses without him even realizing it. Slowly and surely, he was putting dents into his armor, chipping away at him with small jabs and kicks here and there. One strike even managed to graze his neck, and Aemon could feel the cold sting of his sword slicing through his skin, leaving a small cut. Thankfully, it was not lethal.

'Not working...' Aemon thought before quickly switching up strategies. Both men had longswords, blades intended to be fought mid to long-range in terms of sword combat.

Aemon did the only thing left to do. He regained some distance before he pulled his second Valyrian Steel Sword. Dark Sister. The beauty of the sword draws the attention of everyone—especially the Royal Family, who gasped in shock.

Rhaegar couldn't believe his eyes. He had read and seen enough drawings to recognize the blade Jon Snow was holding. Elia gasped, looking at it as if not believing her eyes.

Rhaenys smiled proudly when she saw Dark Sister.

"That's!"

"Dark Sister." Rhaegar finished for his brother, who looked shocked, to say the least.

"Jon Has Dark Sister!!!" Arya screamed, cheering the loudest with Val smiling, has been a long time since Jon had used Dark Sister.

"I Can't Wait To Use It," Arya screamed, with Ned sending her a hard glare.

"Don't even think about it, young Lady," Ned said with a tone that left no place for arguments. Arya pouted loudly as the attention turned back to the fight.

Back at the Arena, Arthur narrowed his eyes after seeing Dark Sister. The entire arena now was saying the name. "How?"

Aemon smiled in satisfaction, catching his breath, knowing this was another chance to rest and gather a bit of strength.

"I found it in my Travels, Ser Arthur. And you don't need to worry. I will return it to the Royal Family once the Melee ends." Aemon promised, pointing the tip of the sword at Arthur, who grunted. What he did next alarmed Aemon when he pulled out his second Sword, now Dual Wielding.

Shit, That's all Aemon could do, knowing he stood no chance now. He didn't know how to dual wield, and his Valyrian Steel Swords were two-handed swords.

"You have proved yourself worthy," Arthur said, sizing him up and down, taking a step forward.

"Face me, Jon Snow." Arthur roared, marching with his swords. Jon didn't back down, marching forward. Steel clashing steel ringed in the arena like a song. The audience had fallen silent as Aemon mostly dodged every blow he could, the sharp blades cutting his skin in multiple places, bleeding. He knew he needed to get rid of his Valyria Steel Weapon first. And he was exhausted, and he knew Arthur was still not showing his full strength. His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear, his ears booming with sound like a horn.

Arthur struck forward, and Aemon blocked it with Dark Sister, seeing the second sword at the last second.

With a desperate move, Aemon used the remaining of his shield to block it. His arm was aching. He clenched his teeth in pain. With all his speed, Aemon struck forward at his chest, forcing Dayne to step back; Aemon quickly seized the opportunity to strike at the hand holding the Valyrian Steel Sword with a war cry that made his throat burn.

His Sword fell, but Arthur struck Aemon in the chest with Dawn, the armor barely protecting him. Feeling his chest wet, he knew the sword had cut his skin. Barely breathing, Aemon quickly removed the helmet as he tried to catch his breath. The Sword of the Morning was about to make a move when his eyes landed on his opponent's face. Arthur was now looking at his face, squinting his eyes; Aemon noticed Arthur wasn't paying attention anymore.

A desperate charge towards Arthur soon proceeded, with Aemon dropping his longsword on the ground and gripping his heated shield with both hands. The last ditch effort seemed to prove successful, and he quickly closed the distance between them. With one hand still on his blade Arthur Dayne grabbed the edge of the shield with his other and threw a quick jab at Aemon's head with the pommel of his sword. His head was wounded and bleeding. Aemon, in return, grabbed him by the throat. This move seemed unorthodox to even the Best Swordsman, and from the look on his face, it was clear he was never expecting anything like it. Sweeping a leg over one of the Sword of The Morning, Aemon shoved the shield forward and sent both him and Dayne to the ground.

Pinning his opponent in the dirt, he unfastened the belts on his shield and held Dayne in place with one knee on the shield held against his chest and a foot that came crashing down Arthur's sword arm to keep it pinned. Aemon raised his mailed fist high up in the air and brought it down to the ground, inches away from his opponent's face, causing him to flinch and instinctively tug his head in the opposite direction. The crowd fell silent, and the only thing that could be heard was the two's ragged and disheveled breathing.

"Yield?" Aemon asked honorably, breaking the silence that lingered between them. Was this it?

Arthur was ready to punch his face and get him off of him when his eyes analyzed his opponent's face. It felt like he was suddenly in the past.

"...Yes," Arthur said after a short pause. The Audience started cheering, but Aemon noticed that Dayne could have used his free hand to get him off. Helping him up, Arthur doubled-shake his hand.

"From up close. You look just like your father." Arthur commented with praise before quickly pulling away.

"AND WE HAVE A WINNER!" the announcer cried, "Jon Snow of Winterfell."

Aemon smiled, but he really needed to rest, and his head was really hurting.

Rhaella

Crying, she found herself tears of happiness. Her grandson had won. It took everything for her not to start clapping. Now, the time had come for her family to know the truth...

Chapter 54 (Family Reunion)