Chapter 336: I Want to Sit in The Middle

The next day, the martial arts arena buzzed with even more excitement than before. The presence of Heir Rhaegar and the Ranger Prince Daemon drew many noble sons and daughters who usually had little interest in the tournament.

Unfortunately, the long-awaited knightly encounter between uncle and nephew had yet to take place.

The grandstand was filled with the kingdom's most powerful individuals. Viserys sat at the center, flanked by Alicent and Otto, with a cluster of royal advisors behind them. To the left and right of the lower tier were Sea Snake Corlys with Rhaenys, and Daemon with Laena. These elders occupied the seats closest to Viserys.

Rhaenyra and Rhaegar arrived later, naturally claiming seats in the front row, which offered a prime view and small tables with refreshments, fruits, and vegetables.

Rhaenyra was followed by her two young foster daughters, whom she patted gently on the head before sending them off with a smile, "Go play with your mother."

"Uh-huh," the twins nodded eagerly and dashed towards Laena with delight.

As Rhaegar was still choosing his seat, he noticed the person next to him disappearing in a blink. When he turned around, he was taken aback by an unexpected sight.

Rhaenyra, walking gracefully, was greeted warmly by Jeyne, who rose to meet her. The two women embraced, much to Rhaegar's surprise.

For a moment, Rhaegar was uncertain whether to approach or not. Unbeknownst to him, a silent rivalry played out between the two women.

As they hugged, Rhaenyra whispered in Jeyne's ear, "It's been a long time, Jeyne."

"Indeed it has. Yesterday, you didn't even greet me," Jeyne retorted, poking Rhaenyra's back.

Rhaenyra, not missing a beat, replied, "Shows you know you're in the wrong."

Jeyne smiled, "Rhaenyra, do you know that Rhaegar has still been in contact with me these past three years?"

"Of course," Rhaenyra replied, pulling back to look her friend in the eye. "If it weren't for my generosity, you wouldn't even get any leftovers ."

Jeyne's smile faded, her expression changing to one of anger. "What do you mean, 'leftovers'? Just because we have small gatherings every few months doesn't mean it's anything bad."

Rhaenyra blinked and lowered her voice, "You're useless. I'd like to see you pregnant with a bastard child."

"Rhaenyra, you're insane!" Jeyne's face turned pale with rage.

Rhaenyra's words had struck a nerve. Jeyne's ambition, fueled by her success in ruling the Vale, had indeed led her to consider having a bastard child to secure her position. She hoped that Rhaegar, as heir, could restore the bastard's family name, even if the child was named Arryn.

Rhaenyra regained her composure quickly and studied Jeyne's reaction closely. The discomfort and anger in Jeyne's eyes confirmed her suspicions about her intentions. Rhaenyra was not entirely heartless, but she wanted to test her former friend's resolve and ambition.

Allowing Rhaegar to meet with Jeyne in private had been a calculated move to keep an eye on her. This little provocation was meant to draw out Jeyne's true intentions.

Realizing she had been played, Jeyne felt a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. She had been on edge, dreading the day she might actually meet Rhaenyra, and this encounter only added to her anxiety.

Rhaenyra sighed and smoothed her skirt before sitting down in a chair. She began to persuade, "Jeyne, please return to the Vale obediently. I can overlook this."

They were bound by blood and had been steadfast allies in the hardest of times.

Three years flashed through Rhaenyra's mind, her fighting spirit momentarily subdued as she avoided making a scene.

Jeyne's eyes flickered, sensing an underlying meaning in Rhaenyra's words, though it may have been a mistake.

In silence, they both took their seats, legs crossed, faces turned slightly away, eyes closed in silent contemplation.

Watching from afar, Rhaegar frowned immediately.

As Rhaenyra and Jeyne spoke, the noble ladies and young women in the front row, who were close to both, tactfully vacated their seats so as not to be drawn into a conflict.

Now there was an empty seat between Rhaenyra and Jeyne, as if presenting Rhaegar with a multiple choice question.

At the high table, Viserys noticed and watched in disbelief, silently sweating for his eldest son.

He had had his share of lovers in his youth... and more recently.

His first wife, Aemma Arryn, had received a rigorous upbringing in House Arryn, known for its strength and integrity. She had been compassionate, openly chastising Daemon for disrespecting his former wife, Lady Rhea, and helping starving orphans in Flea Bottom.

However, she has also been emotionally demanding, insisting that Viserys give up his habit of visiting brothels and wielding considerable influence within the Red Keep.

Rhaenyra, their eldest daughter, had inherited her mother's strength of character to perfection.

As far as Viserys knew, Rhaegar had not been involved with another woman besides Lady Jeyne of the Vale.

Rhaegar hesitated...

Meanwhile, the sharp-eyed Laena also noticed the situation, her gaze fixed intently on Rhaegar, wondering how her cousin would handle it.

Daemon, though he had many mistresses, had a more liberal family style and she usually avoided such entanglements when they didn't surface directly.

Sensing the tension, Rhaenys looked at her daughter with a hint of disdain.

Why had she chosen Daemon as her husband?

After many years of marriage to Corlys, she hadn't heard a whisper of him seeking a mistress.

A woman incapable of recognizing such things did not deserve a good marriage.

Rhaegar slowly made his way to his seat, his eyes darting back and forth between the two women, their eyes closed in contemplation.

When he reached his seat, he hesitated for a moment before settling down.

Rhaenyra and Jeyne opened their eyes almost simultaneously, each noticing the empty seat next to them.

Turning his head, Rhaegar sat down in the empty space between them, waved an attendant over and ordered, "Bring a table and some refreshments."

The servant quickly brought a moderately sized square table with an assortment of pastries delicately arranged on it.

Rhaegar poured three cups of tea, placing them strategically on either side of the table, and took the remaining cup for himself.

He couldn't solve the tension between the two women, but he could serve as a buffer.

The tea scalded his mouth, a physical reminder of his unexpectedly bold actions today.

Jeyne's eyes softened slightly as she lifted her teacup, blowing gently over the surface before taking a sip, quietly watching the unfolding drama.

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at Rhaegar, picked up her own teacup, and took a measured sip. She carefully picked up a piece of pastry, savoring each bite.

"The competition downstairs is quite fierce," Rhaenyra ventured, breaking the silence.

Rhaegar grasped Rhaenyra's hand gently, showing his favor to his sister.

"It's quite engaging," he replied softly.

Rhaenyra withdrew her hand and gave him a warning look.

If he was going to hold hands, he should do it openly and honestly, not sneakily trying to appease her and Jeyne at the same time.

Rhaenyra was used to winning, and extending her hand to Jeyne was more a gesture of superiority than anything else.

...

Time passed, and the tournament began.

Following yesterday's knights' duels, today's event featured a group tournament—a melee with multiple participants.

Danglang!

The referee's gong echoed across the battlefield as fifty armored knights stepped forward.

Most of them were lesser known knights who were struggling to assemble a complete set of armor, horse, and weapons. Many were also defeated competitors from yesterday's one-on-one duels.

From his elevated position in the stands, Rhaegar watched the competitors closely.

Among them were familiar faces like the Tullys-Elmo Tully and Edmure Tully.

The Old Lord Tully had previously announced that his two sons and grandson would fight a fair duel, with the winner earning the right to inherit Riverrun.

Yesterday, the less skilled Milov Tully was knocked off his horse in the first round. Today, the still-determined Edmure and Elmo faced the formidable Daemon, known for his horsemanship, and were defeated.

Thus, the Tullys had little success on the first day of the tournament.

Undaunted, Edmure and Elmo each gathered a group of followers to participate in the current melee tournament in hopes of making a comeback.

Two other notable figures stood out on the field:

Arryk, clad in silver armor and a white cloak and Cregan Stark, hailed from Winterfell. He had chosen to compete in the team event after being defeated by Cole in an earlier match.

Arryk had been sent by his father Viserys, at Rhaegar's repeated request, to aid the Tullys.

Old Tully, favoring his grandson Elmo, had agreed to relinquish thirty percent of Riverrun's profits and an additional share of the Mushroom Set's benefits in the upcoming year to secure Arryk's assistance.

Dangang!

The obese referee's gong sounded once more, signaling the start of the melee.

Poof!

As Elmo drew his sword, a sudden strike from behind pierced through a gap in his armor, plunging into his waist and near his eye.

"There's a traitor!" his followers cried out, swiftly turning on the assailant, cutting him down and shielding the pale-faced Elmo as he retreated to safety.

Edmure chuckled wildly, leading his followers in a relentless pursuit that drove his nephew Elmo to the edge in a swift exchange.

High in the stands, Rhaegar frowned deeply.

"I never expected rough Edmure to play such a cunning game so well," he muttered to himself.

"That one is Lord Borros' bastard son, Arno Storm," Jeyne interjected from the sidelines, pointing to a heavily armored knight on the other side of the arena.

Rhaegar followed her gesture, his gaze resting on the knight wielding a war hammer with a powerful grip.

"Why is he in the group tournament?" Rhaegar wondered aloud.

"Arno lacks skill in riding, so he's using the group tournament to make a name for himself," Jeyne explained softly.

Rhaegar nodded thoughtfully.

"Elmo won't last," Rhaenyra commented between bites of pastry.

Fighting back a smile, Rhaegar wiped a bit of cream from her mouth and turned his attention back to the melee.

On the field below, Edmure pressed his attack fiercely while Arryk joined the fray, rallying Elmo's followers against the attackers.

Suddenly, Arno, the bastard knight from across the field, charged forward, smashing Arryk's longsword aside with a thunderous blow from his hammer.

"Wow!" The crowd erupted in surprise as they saw the Kingsguard member disarmed.

Arryk quickly rolled aside, retrieved his longsword, and engaged the towering, heavily armored knight in a heated duel.

The melee intensified with flying strikes and desperate defenses, creating a chaotic spectacle.

Seeing that Arryk was outnumbered, the unopposed Cregan rushed in to help, wielding his massive sword to dispatch three enemies in quick succession.

As the melee drew to a close, the sounds of battle subsided, leaving only a handful of the original fifty standing.

Among them were Cregan, Arno, Arryk, Elmo, and Edmure.

Dangang!

The referee's gong signaled the end of the team competition.

"One out of ten, as usual," someone remarked.

Elmo was carried away on a stretcher by his squire while a Maester tended to his wounds, grateful that the armor had deflected the longsword from doing more serious damage.

Edmure, reeling from his defeat, returned with a grim expression, moving slowly with a bruised face, resigned to his loss.

Suddenly, a jet of black blood erupted from Edmure's mouth and he collapsed to the ground, twitching twice before lying still.

"Guard! Guard!" the referee shouted in alarm, calling for the Fearless soldiers to intervene.

When they turned Edmure over, it was obvious that he had been poisoned, causing a commotion among the crowd.

Rhaegar shot to his feet in disbelief, stunned that anyone would dare commit murder so brazenly.

Viserys, seated above, rose as well, whispering urgently to Otto to calm the restless crowd.

(Word count: 1,981)