Prince Rhaegar's Wedding Tourney - 279 AC

MELEE IV: The Dance of Wolves and Lions

Ser Rivers

"I don't care what the price is. A Lannister always pays his debts."

"Oh yes," Ser Rivers smirked. "And you will. Believe me…"

No matter how many times he saw it, it was still interesting to see men sell their souls for glory. All he needed to do was dangle something they wanted in front of them, and they would bite. Every time.

Jaime Lannister was no different. Ser Rivers wondered if that should disqualify him as a candidate. But, he was the best of the batch. Who else was there?

"Now listen lad, you are pretty decent with the sword. You have speed and good footwork. That is your advantage."

Jaime looked attentive.

"Do you know why most people lose in a swordfight?" Rivers asked

"They lack skill." Jaime answered with confidence.

'Fool.'

"Skill rarely wins duels. Common sense and a composed mind do." Ser Rivers sighed "Most men lose swordfights because they make mistakes. They get intimidated. They get angry, they stumble, or they drop their guard…"

The boy now looked thoughtful.

"A man doesn't need to be very skilled to kill you in a duel. He simply needs to avoid making mistakes."

"So what must I do?" Jaime Lannister demanded

"Keep to the basics."

"And?"

"Stay calm and analyze your opponent. Wait for opportunities, don't try to make them for yourself."

Jaime bowed his head, "I suppose..."

"Lastly, study your opponent, try to outwit him."

The Melee was… unplanned, and it irked Ser Rivers. It reeked of interference. He knew who. He knew why. A decent plan for them, but not something he could allow to happen. Therefore, Jaime Lannister had to be saved.

Jaime Lannister had to win. Rivers had done what needed to be done. Jaime Lannister was now better equipped to handle the upcoming battles. He would still suffer though, and he would suffer greatly.

Helping the boy was not something he relished. He knew that this would create undesirable consequences; immediate and later on. But, it was necessary.

Did I waste other opportunities to bet on Tywin Lannister and his seed?

No. All other options were not desirable.

Rhaegar

He may have lost Lord Tywin as an ally. In fact, Rhaegar was almost sure he had.

It's not my fault!

He couldn't escape the way Lord Tywin was glaring at him. He could see it on his face. They had a deal. Now Rhaegar had managed to make the situation worse than it could have been.

Ser Oswell was supposed to fight the boy and eliminate him. But he was to do so without severely hurting him. That, was the only reason Tywin had agreed.

Everything had now gone to hell. Ser Oswell didn't seem to want to follow the plan! How or why he recruited Robert Baratheon and Brandon Stark, Rhaegar knew not.

His situation was dire. No Jaime Lannister; No Tywin Lannister. No Tywin Lannister; No crown. He needed to fix this.

He gestured to Ser Lewyn to attend him. He did not want his father privy to the conversation. Luckily, he seemed off in his own world, no doubt imagining how he would burn people.

"My Prince?" Ser Lewyn asked

"Find Ser Oswell and remind him of his duties to me and to the realm." Rhaegar said

Ser Lewyn gave puzzled look, but left. Rhaegar hoped it helped.

Of course it wouldn't matter though, not if Jaime Lannister did not survive his first match. And for some reason, Brandon Stark had it in for him.

Rhaegar noticed that the troupe of entertainers had wound up their act. The melee was going to recommence.

"LORDS AND LADIES! THE MELEE SHALL RESUME"

"OUR FIRST MATCH: BRANDON STARK VERSUS JAIME LANNISTER!"

"CONTESTANTS, MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE RING!"

The Lannister and the Stark were soon before them.

Rhaegar winced as his father stood up to speak.

Seven Help all of us…

"My son raised a valid point to me earlier…" his father began

Do not drag me into your mad schemes!

"How can we do duels to first blood, when some people are already bleeding?" his father continued with a chuckle "So I came up with a solution."

Rhaegar could feel the whole audience hold their breath.

"Whoever gets their weapon wet with their opponent's blood first is the winner."

Rhaegar was extremely foolish to think he could manage his father. He was now paying the price.

"Of course for a weapon to be wet with blood, it has to be a substantial amount of blood." His father said "Otherwise, I, from all the way here won't see!"

His father was laughing. He was laughing alone.

"I wish you good fortune; Lannister, Stark." His father took his seat.

Rhaegar was sick to his stomach. This melee was a glorified execution now.

Tywin was frowning. It was a deeper frown than usual. Rhaegar knew his own life expectancy was in the balance.

Weddings are supposed to be a happy affair!

"FIGHT!"

Rickard

Rickard knew Brandon was a hothead. It was the damn wolfblood! But he didn't expect him to be a complete fool.

What had he expected to accomplish whilst charging the Lannister boy? Did he so desperately want to derail all of his father's plans? Or maybe he desired to incur the wrath of Tywin Lannister? The damn fool.

Rickard realized that perhaps he erred in telling his sons of the betrothal. He should have waited till they were back in the North. Any fallout could have been easily mitigated.

"OUR FIRST MATCH: BRANDON STARK VERSUS JAIME LANNISTER!"

"CONTESTANTS, MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE RING!"

This was bad! This was very bad! The Lannister boy escaped the first round unscathed. Now he was matched up against Brandon?! The first match of the second round. The first match with live steel. It was all so… suspicious as well as infuriating.

Now, Brandon was sure to do something incredibly foolish and possibly fatal. Jaime Lannister seemed skilled enough, but could he last against Brandon? If he was injured… Rickard could just see his small council seat going up in smoke. All those trade concessions. The gift! Moat Cailin!

Damn wolfblood! Why can't idiots only ruin their own lives?!

Brandon and Jaime Lannister entered the yard. Rickard felt… nervous. A rare feeling for him. He was not confident he could handle the ensuing situation.

He wished he could catch his son's eye. He could convey his sentiments of the situation with ice cold stare. But his son was too focused on the Lannister. This was all going to hell.

"FIGHT!"

He submitted the future into the hands of the Old Gods.

Take my son if you must! I have two spares.

Brandon

An hour felt like a lifetime. He spent it in the competitor tents provided. Simply imagining what he would do to the Lannister, if Ser Oswell and Robert didn't get to him first. He wouldn't kill him, but he definitely wouldn't let him walk away unscathed.

Brandon would show the world what kind of person Jaime was. A man who could not fight was not worthy of his sister. He would humiliate him. Once his father saw…

"OUR FIRST MATCH: BRANDON STARK VERSUS JAIME LANNISTER!"

"CONTESTANTS, MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE RING!"

The Old Gods… one need not be before a heart tree for them to hear your prayers. This was meant to be. Brandon wasted no time in heading to the ring.

He eyed his opponent with disdain. To the boy's credit, Jaime Lannister did not flinch under his gaze.

At least he is no craven.

The king was saying something. Brandon only heard bits and pieces. Everything else was ignored. His mind was on the lion before him.

"So you are a Stark?" Jaime Lannister asked

Brandon just glared. He was announced as a Stark. Why bother to confirm?

"Your sister must be a Stark as well." Jaime continued "Pity."

Pity?!

"What do you mean?!" Brandon snarled at Jaime

"Starks aren't known for beauty. Perhaps your sister is a good kisser at least."

Red. Brandon only saw red. His blood boiled. He could feel veins pooping in his head. All he had was one thought: Kill the damn lion.

"FIGHT!"

Brandon lunged.

Jaime

An hour passes away like a fleeting moment when one's life is near its end.

Jaime all but blinked, then it was gone.

"OUR FIRST MATCH: BRANDON STARK VERSUS JAIME LANNISTER!"

"CONTESTANTS, MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE RING!"

Now he was before the Northman. The one who wished to kill him. All for a sister he didn't even know.

Brandon Stark. They called him the wild wolf. He certainly looked the part. Unkempt and hairy.

A Barbarian.

Still, Jaime was no fool. He knew Brandon Stark could beat him. Jaime could give Stark a hard time, but ultimately he would lose. But losing was not an option. He was close. Closer than he thought he would ever reach.

"Most men lose swordfights because they make mistakes. They get intimidated. They get angry, they stumble, or they drop their guard…"

What of Brandon stark? He was obviously volatile. Jaime already knew he could easily be taunted. One just had to mention his sister…

Stark's sister! She is the key! Apologies my Lady; who I do not know…

He was playing with fire; poking the bear, or wolf in this case. Yet, Jaime couldn't find it in himself to care. He had already made an enemy of this man. Jaime doubted he could sink lower in Stark's regard.

"Starks aren't known for beauty. Perhaps your sister is a good kisser at least."

Maybe he was laying it on too thick. He would never allow a man who said that of his own sister to live. At least he never would have; but then she conspired to have him injured. He couldn't care less about her now.

However, what he said hit all the right nerves. The Stark was furious. He looked, bloodthirsty. If looks could kill… Jaime just smirked at the Northman in response.

'An angry man is a clumsy man' that was what Lord Crakehall always said. It was time to test that theory.

"FIGHT!"

Brandon Stark went berserk. His attacks had no rhythm, no method, and no form. Just pure rage channeled into hacks, swings and stabs. Just what Jaime needed.

Speed was key. He was lucky that Stark was a bulky man. It slowed him down; allowing Jaime to parry and dodge; difficult but doable. Stark would win in the long game. Jaime just had to wait for little while…

"Think about this: A Calvary charge should not be as effective as it is." Ser Rivers said "Why? Because any man who has ever owned a horse knows that it won't run straight into a row of pikes.

Yet, Calvary charges still work because of a simple fact: Fear.

When men see a stampede of horses, no one thinks logically. They get scared, and they break formation. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes, I must be like a Calvary charge!" Jaime said enthusiastically

Ser rivers shook his head, "NO!"

Jaime was dumbstruck. What was the point of the analogy then?

"Keep in formation! You'll most likely be smaller than your opponents. They will seek to charge you, to show their superiority in strength. When an enemy bares down on you, don't get intimidated! Stand your ground!

An enemy who thinks they are stronger and better than you will not be cautious. They will underestimate you, be sure of it."

Ser Rivers was not wrong. Stark was leaving multiple openings. He was overextending his swings. But, Jaime couldn't get close enough to exploit that yet. He had to wait.

Footwork was integral. He had to stay light on his feet. He couldn't be caught. He had to stay in motion.

He remembered Lord Crakehall's lessons:

'If you find yourself fighting a larger and stronger opponent, avoid direct contact. Block as little as possible. Avoid and evade.'

At the time Jaime found the endless dodging practice that Lord Crakehall forced him to do completely sickening. Now? It would help him win.

'No man can continue a sequence of strikes forever. They will tire eventually. Most men will put all residual energy into the final attack of a sequence. After that, there will always be an opening, no matter who. If you are quick enough. Wait for it… then strike.'

Except, Jaime was also tiring. Brandon Stark was chasing him all around the field. He didn't seem to tire.

The strength of fury, it seems Jaime mused.

Time he did not have. The fight needed to end.

Brandon had raised his blade for a powerful downswing. He was putting all his energy into it.

Now!

Jaime stepped in to the attack as the sword came down, but quickly twisted away from the downward moving sword. The blade narrowly missed him.

He struck. Getting Stark just below his shoulder. Just enough blood for his sword to be 'bloodied'.

The Stark shouted and collapsed to the ground, clutching his wound.

I am better than I thought I was! I can actually win this!

Lord Crakehall

He was immensely proud of his squire. The little lad took my lessons to heart! It felt so rewarding.

When the match begun and Sumner immediately saw the boy's plan. Wait out the enemy. Wait for a mistake. Strike when convenient. A good tactic, but one employed by patient and disciplined swordsmen. It was rarely used by green boys.

A seasoned warrior would have noticed it. They would have stopped the relentless attacks. They would have tried to conserve their strength. Yet, Brandon Stark did not notice. He simply decided that Jaime needed to be hurt; as soon as possible. He let his guard down. He left more and more openings. Jaime had seen it.

The lad studied Brandon, analyzing his patterns and then, he attacked. Brandon was caught off guard. It was simple yet effective.

So Jaime won. What a surprise.

"You owe me 30 gold dragons." Sumner said to his brother with a smile.

Ned

What happened? How did it happen? Why did it happen?

There was no conceivable reason for Jaime Lannister to be able to beat Brandon. It was impossible. Even Robert would have had a hard time with Brandon, and he was the best fighter Ned knew.

So how?!

It was a sickening sight. Watching Jaime wound his brother. Watching his brother on the ground, groaning in pain. The Lannister was smirking.

Damn you!

Ned was forced to watch as the lion cockily walked before the king and raised his sword triumphantly.

"First blood, Your Grace."

That is Brandon's blood! You insolent….

"Quite the surprise. I thought you would die quickly. Looks as though lions have sharper claws than wolves." The king said with a sneer.

How dishonorable. The king would deign to insult them even when his brother was down and wounded? Kings were supposed to be honorable men… Perhaps the king truly was mad.

"Jaime Lannister Wins!" the king proclaimed.

The crowd burst into cheers. People cheered his brothers demise! The Westermen especially. Everyone was cheering except the northerners. Silence prevailed from their stands.

In his own box, there was no difference.

His father was silent; his face was impassive. But there was a twinkle in his eye. Benjen looked scared. Lyanna looked surprised.

"Is Brandon alright?" Benjen asked worriedly.

Ned looked at his brother. The wound seemed serious, but not fatal, at least if treated. His brother was able to stand and leave the ring unaided. He went briskly. He feels the shame.

"I think he is fine. But he will need a healer." Ned said

Benjen looked reassured.

"Jaime Lannister is better than I expected if he can beat Brandon." His father said with a hint of… amusement? Impossible!

"How can you be so casual about this! The lion has shamed us!" Ned cried

"Your brother did that on his own."

Ned was furious at his father. His own son was injured and humiliated before all, and yet… The Lannisters owned his father now. All it took was Moat Cailin and a betrothal to Jaime Lannister. How cheap!

"Jaime Lannister is really savoring the moment." Howland Reed said dryly

Ned saw he spoke true: Jaime waved vigorously to the cheering crowd as he walked (slowly) out of the ring. Ned wished he could throw something at Jaime Lannister. The display was unbearable.

"I must go check on Brandon." Ned stood to leave.

"I'll come with you." Lyanna said as she stood as well.

Ned was pleasantly surprised. At least Lyanna was not under the Lannisters spell.

They made their way from their box. As they left the grounds, the second match had begun.

So due to the easing of lockdown restreictions, I was allowed to return to work. (For now, they might send us back home again.)

Therefore, Updates may be less frequent as before. Hence the wait. Sorry?

Note: The lessons Jaime recalls are ones I myself got from my martial arts teacher. But he was concerned with kicks and punches, not swords.
Does it translate? Anyone who knows. Do tell.

Reviews:

Mister LaGuardia: Glad you liked that bit. I loved writing it. Baelish is a snake with no friends. But, Corbray's death serves a purpose.

Force Smuggler: Aerys has been underrated in my opinion, trying to do him some credit here. A romantic sit-com? Maybe. it seems like it though. I should put that in the description.

snow334: The reveal is going to be as good as i can write it... As for Ned Stark... I havent decided yet... Suggestions?

Eros Amor Black - P K Nimavat: Thanks! As for Jon. i will admit that the melee is taking longer than i expected. but, Jon comes during the rebellion, as with canon. But the relationship between Jaime and Lyanna will be addressed in the meanwhile. Because their relationship will affect how he is raised, and his character in turn. As for the dragon... since he wont be a targaryen. Perhaps an ice dragon? no promises though.

monkey kix ass: The premise just came to me. i got tired of the Rhaegar/Lyanna ship. Jaime will get out of this with skill, luck and cheating. I'll say that upfront. Updates may be less frequent as i said above. but ill still try for weekly.

Dany: Baelish to die so soon? he's too fun for that. out the moon door? there is an idea... as for the melee fights. I wont cover all the possible duels. just the ones important to the story. I aint got that kind of dedication. Sorry... :( . Glad you like the story so far though.

MM27: I am glad you liked it! As for Robert, he believes his own lies. Canon agrees with me (Dont tell Bobby B fans!). The mad king would laugh, but he just wants to see blood more than anything.

Also I got Past 100 follows! Didnt realize till now!

Shout out to all who clicked that button. (Even those who did it by accident... I hope you're not the majority...)

Please Review!