Chapter 25 is here. Probably another 2 to 3 chapters and we will be back in Essos. I hope you like the chapter.
In time nearly all regions of Westeros had their turn. After the North came the Reach where the team consisting of Mace Tyrell, Randyll Tarly, Baelor Hightower, Alester Florent, Emmon Cuy and Arthur Ambrose won.
After that came the Riverlands with Brynden, Hoster and Edmure Tully, Jason and Patrek Mallister, Tytos Blackwood and Marq Piper as their winning team. Many laughed at the fact that there were two teams consisting entirely out of Frey's. One even giving a good showing while the second was full of incompetence.
The Stormlands came next in line. Robert, Stannis and Steffon Baratheon, Cortnay Penrose, Jon Connington, Richard Lonmouth and Aemon Estermont won it for them.
Before the Westerlands came the Vale of Arryn. Their winning team consisted of Yohn Royce, Elbert Arryn, Jasper Redfort, Lyn Corbray, Gerold Grafton and Vardis Edgen. For a region priding itself on their knights they made a relatively poor showing compared to the rest. Roughly on the same level as the Riverlands.
It took more than a few hours for them to finally be called to start, but now the Westerlands were finished fighting. The winning team consisted of Tygett Lannister, Lyle Crakehall, Ilyn Payne, Addam Marbrand, Gregor and Sandor Clegane, as well as Jaime Lannister.
Normally Sandor would've been much too young at eleven years of age. His tall stature and natural talent with a sword made up for it. After all he was about as tall as someone in his late teens, with his near six feet of height. The typical age for squires to fight in melees and tourneys was twelve, but his body let him participate earlier.
Only Jaime Lannister was not on the top of his game. Tiredness was evident, his normal swagger absent. Instead replaced with a kind of drunken stagger. His limbs were seemingly made out of water, hindering his movement and stealing the strength from his normally sharp, quick and precise movements.
Not that Jaime cared at the moment. His mind was in too much turmoil after the day's events. First the shock that the relationship between Cersei and him was discovered. Even worse was that his father had made him swear to testify against Cersei to save his own as well as the honour of House Lannister. If Jaime would tell the truth he and Cersei would be pariahs, lower than the lowest smallfolk. With Tywin's plan only Cersei would take the fall.
Even more perplexing were his actions with Lysa not an hour earlier. It was as if only she existed and replaced Cersei in his mind for the duration of the bedding. Now he was confused, angry and feeling helpless all at once. Even fighting, one of the two things that made him feel alive, didn't help. Mostly because of Lysa's favour. A pale blue ribbon, which he wore tied around his wrist. It was a reminder of what he had done with the sweet girl. Memories of said activities caused him to blush and banish them. Not willing to confront his confusing actions right now. No matter how heavy the ribbon made his arm feel, dragging him down as if it was made of lead and not cloth.
Jaime still loved Cersei or at least he thought he did. However, his father had her isolated until her trial tomorrow morning. A trial where he was to give testimony against his twin and other half. Basically he was to lie about his love for his twin, tearing her down to save his own hide. He couldn't even demand a Trial by Combat to get her free. The story his father constructed made him out to be controlled by Cersei and him volunteering to fight for her would only be seen as proof of that.
'Father really has outdone himself with this scheme.' Jaime thought morosely. One way or another Jaime couldn't do a thing to protect his twin. All of that didn't even take into account the looks of disappointment mixed with anger coming from his family. Not just his father. What he and Cersei had done was an abomination in the eyes of the Seven. 'Hypocritical buggers. They ignore it when the Targaryen family fuck their brothers and sisters.' Jaime thought in impotent rage.
The victory of his team was not very sweet with these heavy thoughts swirling inside his head. Not that his team could've lost with Gregor as the target. It would've taken three men to even move that heavily armoured beast. Ten people of the opposition lay dead as a testament of his brutality.
He sighed, not knowing what he could do to save Cersei. He was no planner or thinker, but Jaime knew he couldn't simply fight his way out of here while protecting Cersei at the same time. Too many people were present and not even his prodigious skill was capable of beating so many at the same time.
Just as Cissy was about to apply the bruise-removal balm to the arms of a little boy she heard the voice of Andromeda in her head. 'It's nearly time for us to fight. If you want to watch then you should stop treating people about now .'
'Thank you.' The youngest Black sister replied, finishing with putting the balm on the little rascal who got them from playing too roughly with his friends. 'We'll be there shortly.' she thought back as she sent the small boy and his mother away. Thankfully she was able to breathe through her mouth or she'd be more than uncomfortable with the stench on most smallfolk due to the hygiene these people practised.
Next she cast the amplifying charm on herself and said. "My stand will close shorty. The next one in line will still be treated. The rest will have to look elsewhere until tomorrow." Narcissa cancelled the charm on her throat and turned to her last patient for the day as the rest of the crowd was melting away.
It was a large, swarthy and hairy man with a black beard. The hair on his head was receding, but still there. He did not look particularly handsome, but his body showed a strong and fit warrior. Still clad in leather and mail together with partial plate armour in form of greaves and gauntlets indicated that he just came from the melee. At his side was an average looking woman of medium height, blue eyes and long brown hair held in a simple braid.
"Good day to you. What do you need help with?" Narcissa inquired, inspecting the two and taking in possible ailments with just glance. She smiled a little on instinct to put them at ease, forgetting that she showed her fangs that way. It was more likely to achieve the opposite.
"Greetings, my lady." the man said. "My name is Jorah Mormont and this lovely lady is my wife, Arenna Mormont. We..." He didn't get further when his wife spoke up.
"Ignore my husband." Arenna interrupted with a roll of her eyes. Seeing the look her husband gave the healer. The former Glover knew she was no great beauty, but she'd be damned to let him drool over another. Thankfully her husband seemed to have caught on and recognized that the woman before them was by no means ordinary. Didn't matter to her if it were the unnatural eyes, fangs or something else that clued him in. "I am here to ask if you have something to prevent miscarriages."
By now Narcissa was used to the fact that she or her sister-wives wouldn't be called by their proper titles while in Westeros. As long as the royal family and the great lords did so she could live with it for now. After all the smallfolk lived their entirely lives without ever seeing their lord. Besides she was here as a healer right now. "You had them before?" the youngest Black questioned, casting the most common diagnostic spell for what felt like the thousandth time that day. She frowned at the unsatisfying results, causing her to cast more obscure ones.
The lady of Bear Island nodded. "Yes, I had two miscarriages in the past." she confirmed. Uncomfortable with the topic and the strange lights surrounding her body, but needs must. A third miscarriage would most likely kill her. Emotionally as well as literally.
Narcissa put on her special glasses to get a better look. The shape of Arenna's uterus seemed to confirm what she said. One more look at the results of the diagnostic spell showed that she had a condition known as uterine septum. In other words her uterus was shaped abnormally. Miscarriage occurred because the embryo wasn't able to implant or once it did, couldn't get the nourishment it needs to survive.
"I have just what you need." Cissy said. "If you allow me?" she put both of Arenna's hands away and placed her own on the woman's stomach, looking her in the eyes. Indecision and distrust appeared briefly but in the end they were replaced with resolve. Seeing the confirmation together with the nod Narcissa reshaped the uterus into the proper shape. "There, you should have no problems carrying a child to term."
"I don't feel much different." Arenna said, having expected some kind of elated feeling or some such.
Narcissa just chuckled. "That's no surprise. Your womb was shaped abnormally, something none of your Maesters would notice without cutting you open. I simply corrected it with a simple spell."
"Ah, thank you." Arenna said heartfelt. Happy that she finally could do her duty as a wife and give Jorah an heir. Not even mentioning that Bear Island was too poor to employ a Maester. Every Mormont learnt how to read, write and count from their parents instead.
"I can't say how thankful I am. Just know that you have the gratitude of House Mormont." Jorah exclaimed with a big smile on his face. The marriage between him and Arenna may have been an arranged one, but that didn't mean he wanted to see her dead or unhappy.
"I'll keep that in mind." Cissy said, wondering what a land with only wood, snow and rock could give her. The Lord and Lady of Bear Island left shortly after, allowing Narcissa to disassemble her stand.
One look at Qyburn showed that the man was still reading the book Cissy had lent him. It was a book written by Muggles from Earth, but like all of them she had copied the contents onto parchment. Qyburn wasn't as far behind as the Muggles of the Middle Ages from back home, but he still believed in leeching, blood letting and other practises that had no real impact on the patient. He even worked with Humoralism. The medicine working on the assumption that the human body only had four bodily fluids. Black Bile, Yellow Bile, Phlegm and Blood. An entirely false assumption. His understanding of anatomy and herbs and how to make medicine was excellent though.
Still, she had him reading basic knowledge to fill any gaps and build on it later. The man was talented, if a bit creepy in a weird way. He had helped her by taking on the easier cases and treating them with the proper tools. Luckily, the more difficult cases were already finished, leaving only the easy ones. Allowing Qyburn to read and catch on.
With practised ease she cast. "Pack" Promptly all the vials and other containers closed themselves and flew into their rightful places inside the kit. Everything closed itself up neatly, leaving nothing behind. Next she put it all back after shrinking it, returned the tables and chairs back to normal and said to Qyburn. "I'll be leaving. I wouldn't want to miss my husband fighting in the Melee."
The former Maester nodded, a bit put out by the fact that his time learning was already over. He barely had been here for a few hours and had already learned so much. Things the idiots at the Citadel could never dream of achieving with their methods. And that was only one of many books he looked into. There were diagrams of organs more detailed than anything he had ever seen. How they functioned and worked together, what they were made out of and so on. There even was talk about cutting open a living person to repair damage or replace malfunctioning or dead organs. He saw his own work in it, just much more advanced and honed by decades if not centuries of research.
Knowledge the Maesters of the Citadel could only dream of having. The only Maester with any sense was Marwyn, a fellow who shared Qyburn's passion and greed for knowledge of the mesmerizing variety.
Cissy summoned the book out of his hands and stuffed it back into her bag. "Are you coming, Melisandre?" She asked her sister-wife, looking at the relaxed posture the redhead sported while reclining on Meleys' head. She had only moved to get some snacks from stands nearby. More than one peasant had been enraptured by the ease of which the priestess seemed to move with casual, but still regal grace.
"Of course." Melisandre replied, glad to be away from all these heathens. Her husband had forbidden her to preach to them. Tensions were high enough as it is and she shouldn't contribute to that by throwing oil on a fire. 'Still, we healed these people and that alone should plant some doubts in these people's minds as to which god does truly deserve their worship.' She mused, knowing they weren't responsible for their ignorance regarding these matters. After all one could hardly influence where or to whom one is born. They just had the misfortune to be born in a land full of false gods.
Before leaving Narcissa turned to the old man. "Maybe we'll see each other again some time."
"I am sure we will." Qyburn said, counting on exactly that. He had to grab this chance immediately. Otherwise he'd be unable to access all that knowledge. "I know I am a bit old for an apprenticeship, my lady. But, I'd be greatly honoured to learn under you."
The words stopped Narcissa from walking away, scrutinizing Qyburn as if he meant what he said. "We could always use more healers." She allowed. "Though, you probably won't learn under me but from another. I'm much too busy to teach myself." Between helping Harry, making sure the hospitals and gardens for potion ingredients are built and looking after their healers she had not much time on her hands.
"Still, it is an opportunity I cannot let go to waste." He replied sincerely, knowing that anyone who had learned under this woman could only be a good healer.
"Very well. I most likely will heal more people tomorrow and would appreciate your presence. I hope your High Valyrian is up to scratch, also be ready to leave after the tourney is over if that is truly what you desire." Narcissa agreed with a minuscule nod of her head.
Qyburn bowed low in gratitude. "I will be and I am proficient in the language. Thank you, my lady." He was very much looking forward to it.
Deeming that finished Narcissa left with Melisandre in tow, who wasn't riding on top of Meleys towards the melee grounds but walking beside Cissy.
"So, how was your first time riding the lightning?" Narcissa queried with an expressionless mask.
Melisandre looked at her sister-wife with confusion in her eyes. "Riding the lightning?" her husband had educated her in the finer points of fire magic. Among it how to generate lightning or how she called it, sky fire. That didn't explain the phrase though.
"Yes, you know, the activity you did in bed just this morning?" Narcissa asked, her eyes sparkling with something unrecognisable.
Melisandre blushed at that, knowing at once what Cissy was referring to. It was still astonishing to the old priestess how her feelings for Harry affected her. She couldn't even remember the last time she blushed before meeting him. Yet, here she was. A woman who, in the past, had participated in depraved orgies, willingly or unwillingly, blushing at the mere memory of her husband. Her heart beat faster and her thoughts automatically drifted to him. "Excellent, it was positively delectable." she purred, a dreamy smile growing on her luscious lips. Her fantasies hadn't even come close to the real thing.
"Good." Narcissa replied, not really knowing why she even brought this conversation up in the first place. Though, she guessed Harry was the best and safest topic to start one with. She was still a bit put out that the two priestesses were allowed to join, but it did not bother her as much as before their short trip back home.
"Do you think, he'll love Kinvara and me like he does you?" Melisandre asked in High Valyrian. In a rare show of insecurity she fidgeted, but her training and experience suppressed that quickly. Still, this was important, laying the groundwork for what was to come. She changed the language to not let the peasants hear what was being said. It was none of their business.
Stunned at the boldness of the old priestess Narcissa thought about how to put it. "I think he likes you already. I'm sure love will come in time." She admitted reluctantly, also changing to High Valyrian. "It does help that you are loyal to him, haven't tried to betray him, told others his secrets or tried to force him to do things for his own good. Well, not anymore at least in regards to the last one."
Melisandre looked briefly away as she remembered what she had done in Kayakayanaya. She knew that Harry only let it slide because it was done with only his benefit in mind and wasn't harmful to him. No matter how much he had disliked it at the time. Harry hated to be controlled fiercely. Someone could be the most beautiful and alluring woman in the world, but doing one of these things would cast her in a very bad light in Harry's mind. If he had trusted the person in question, it was worse.
"You know how deeply Harry feels emotions and experienced it yourself." Melisandre simply nodded at that, a smile on her face as she remembered the heavenly experience. "Then you know that there is just something about him that enables him to simply love with all his being."
"Yes, as is befitting of a Champion of R'hllor." the red priestess stated passionately. Some would say that she could do better, that she could get a man who wasn't married to other women and completely devoted to only her. These people were fools in Melisandre's eyes. She couldn't just stop loving him, it was simply impossible. Love wasn't something one could switch on or off and those who claimed they could have never loved in the first place. Besides Harry showed her more affection, love and care than every other man before him and that even before she shared his bed. Why would she throw something like that away? It would be a betrayal to Harry and R'hllor. Not that Melisandre would've betrayed him with the Unbreakable Vow hanging over her or even without it. Now it was different. The Unbreakable Vow was reshaped into their mental connection. All bonds, be they vows or Life-Debts transformed into something completely different by the ritual.
Feeling too exposed Melisandre decided to chicken out and go back to safer ground. "Out of curiosity, how did my Unbreakable Vow change to our current bond? I know that the ritual established an emotional connection, but we also share thoughts."
Glad to be on professional ground Narcissa explained as good as she could. "Well, from what we pieced together the blood of the Undying used had unexpected consequences. The looted texts revealed that Shade of the Evening was used for more than just opening up the mind. The Undying combined that with blood magic to bind the Warlocks to them, creating a hive mind with them at the centre through repeated consumption. By using their blood we also created a mental link on top of the emotional one." It hadn't been that big of a deal for her, having already had such a link at the time. Only Kinvara, Fleur, Gabrielle and Melisandre were affected by it.
"It is only speculation on my part, but I'm sure our eyes became black because of that. After all the bodies of the Undying had changed due to excessive consumption of that potion, something was bound to carry over." Luckily, their skin and everything else did not change colour. "The Unbreakable Vow was just the connection needed to establish the bond, and was changed to what you have today."
"Why did your and Andromeda's eye and hair colour change though?" Melisandre inquired, hungry for more knowledge. What better way to build a connection than discussing something they both enjoyed, Magic. Before she only learned from Harry and interacted with him the most. Now she was eager to expand to the rest as well. "I know that you said you always looked like you do and concealed yourselves under illusions as an explanation to the masses, but I never saw an illusion around you."
Narcissa chuckled at Melisandre's enthusiasm, finding it funny that such an old woman, at least in mind, could act like that. "True, we gave that reason so that we wouldn't have to explain things needlessly." It had been more convenient and also fit in with their fabricated origin story. "Like already explained the Ritual of the Covenant was designed to share passive abilities given through blood, including looks to a degree. My eyes changed to violet, because that is the colour people of House Black usually had in the past. My hair was dyed blond from its original black, making illusions unnecessary." She took a strand of her night sky hair into her hand. "As to why it changed even more, magic is wilful sometimes, but I suspect it has to do with what we got from Fleur and Gabrielle."
Satisfied with that Melisandre asked about something she knew Narcissa enjoyed. "What about the Shade of the Evening? Why did we react in such an extreme manner?" She had never tasted the brew in the past and did not care for it enough to drink it on a regular basis.
"Well, we can rule poisons out, because we are protected from those. Most likely it acted similar to a hallucinogenic drug due to the fact that our connection to magic was already wide open." Narcissa theorized, possibilities flying through her mind as she thought about that potion. "I did some experiments on it and the ingredients its made out of and was even able to create new potions." the youngest Black sister talked on, not noticing how she was lost until she snapped out of it and refocussed on Melisandre. "My apologies, I got lost there for a second."
Melisandre waved her off. "No apology needed. It is fascinating actually. Please continue." she prompted, wanting to get on with her sister-wife and share more than a husband. Even if the attempts at such were awkward right now.
Scrutinizing the redhead Narcissa appeared satisfied with what she saw and did so. "I even found out that Harry's ability to see through illusions comes from the potion he took to correct his eyesight. The silly man hadn't completely read the details and simply concocted a powerful and dark Oculus potion." She only found out because they now possessed that ability as well, having seen through one of Marcella's illusions without trouble.
Melisandre giggled at that and spent the rest of the walk talking about various topics and asking about help with a few spells.
Bronn felt pretty good right now. All he had to do was participate in the melee and four golden dragons were his and two were so already. Winning wasn't even required. With that kind of money he could buy himself the maidenhead of four girls or a full set of armour or a small cask of Arbor gold or a simple horse.
He most likely would live off of it. Such a sum could see someone like him through for up to two years if not more when used carefully.
'Now, where are these noble shits?' He asked himself, looking around. After what Bronn had seen them do he'd never call them that to their face, but in the privacy of his mind that was another matter altogether. Previously he only told them what was what and that he had no intention of getting involved with them beyond a relationship built around money.
Around him the sellswords and Hedge knights got ready by putting on their armour or what could barely be called such in most cases. Much of it was dented, rusted, dirty and poorly cared for. It would do what it was supposed to, barely.
Not even finished thinking about them they appeared. He just caught them changing into their armour as they were letting it flow onto their forms like water one layer after another. Replacing one set of clothes for another.
First came trousers, shirts, boots and fingerless gloves made out of a black leather that could only be from a dragon or a really big snake, judging by the size of the scales. The rings on their fingers sparkled in the sun. Over that came a hauberk of a silver colour going down to the thighs, though it looked to be too fine and thin to be made out of metal. After that came flowing black robes with gold trimmings along the edges and golden runes stitched on them in intricate designs. The robes had sleeves going to the elbows to leave the arms free and only went down to above the knees to allow freedom of movement. Instead of normal fabric the man seemed to wear a shadowy robe with the same decorations from whose edges wisps of shadow left and dissipated into the air.
Following that came the plate armour, consisting of greaves, vambraces, cuisses, pauldrons and a perfectly fitting cuirass for each.
Silver armour of all things. Bronn kept the insults inside his mind and did not voice them out loud. Of all metals silver was the absolute worst to use for armour outside of ceremonial stuff. It was heavy, didn't protect very well due to its softness and it was expensive on top of it. Though, Bronn had to give credit were credit was due. The armour was impressive looking. The silver was polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the sun's rays off of it like glass. Most striking was the bird motif the armours were designed in with minor changes. The shoulders looked like the heads of some bird and had diamonds in its eyes. Parts of the vambraces and greaves were designed to look like claws, which were cut out of diamonds as well. Also the armour looked as if real feathers were on it. Upon closer inspection it showed that golden runes were intricately carved into the metal, giving it a wild, but also majestic beauty.
The absences of helmets was also telling. No warrior worth their salt would do battle without one. Either these people were extremely adept at fighting, confident in their abilities or rich idiots who thought good armour made a good fighter. Bronn personally betted on the latter with all the indicators he saw.
They stuck out like sore thumbs among the rabble. In more ways than one.
Harry saw their seventh member and made his way over after waiting until everyone had put on their armour. All of it had been transmuted with the help of the Philosopher's Stone, to permanently change the shape and motif to that of a Phoenix, the future symbol of their new House, without the need to melt it down. Something that was impossible now anyway. There also were additions in form of diamonds at various places.
"Good day to you, Bronn." Harry greeted Bronn pleasantly, despite the latter's rudeness from before. He could sympathize, having done the same thing numerous times in the past. Draco Malfoy was just one example coming to mind.
"Likewise." Bronn replied without much emotion or anything. Just barely able to keep his true thoughts to himself. 'They pay you. They pay you.' he repeated over and over as a mantra inside his head. Had he been older Bronn would've had more resistance to the occasional idiocy of nobility. As it was he just was past his latest nameday, making him ten and seven. His control was good for someone his age.
Nobody said much of anything after that. Harry conjured himself a Bastard sword and Marcella did the same for her weapons. Both of their weapons were too dangerous to use in such a setting. Poison that could kill in under a minute on the blades wasn't really fair play. Bellatrix' daggers weren't lethal in that regard and Andromeda's, Fleur's and Gabrielle's weapons had no poison on them.
"So, who wants to be the target?" Andromeda asked, holding up the bright red surcoat given to her by one of the various pages.
Bellatrix made a face that said it all. She'd rather fight offensively. Marcella did the same for different reasons, finding the garment simply hideous and not wanting to ruin her outfit. Gabrielle did not want to do so because she would be unable to showcase her abilities properly . Finally Fleur volunteered. "I'll do it." knowing that Harry had to fight or be seen as a coward who hid behind women by the Westerosi.
It didn't take long from there for it to begin. Only that some of these so called Hedge knights seemed to have different ideas once it did.
"Do not worry, my ladies. We'll protect you." One of five Hedge knights said, standing with their backs to them. Trying to protect them like their vows told them to and trying to act accordingly to the laws of chivalry. They were sure that these maidens were somehow controlled and corrupted by the demonic man. The only problem was that none of them wanted to be protected by them.
Bronn rolled his eyes, seeing once again more evidence as to why he was no Hedge knight. Not much money was made in that profession and you could easily lose your everything by one loss in a Joust. In Bronn's opinion they had no sense.
Bellatrix in turn snarled at one more obstacle in her way. She had done as Harry asked of her and reigned herself in. Now that the moment was here these idiots tried to take it from her? Not a chance. "Fuck that." she spat out irritated and went on the offensive. When they wanted to be stupid she was more than willing to accommodate.
Fleur, Andy, Marcella and Gabrielle were of a similar mindset. They appreciated when Harry protected them in serious combat, but this was a contest they entered on their own free choice. It should be obvious what they wanted.
The five idiots turned, scandalized that such words could leave a woman's mouth. Only to see blurs of black and silver advancing on them. In just a moment Bella had covered the distance, delivering a devastating punch to the head of the one standing in the middle. Sheer force dented and tore off the man's helm as his body was flung to the ground like a discarded doll. Following up Bella performed a brutal kick in the same motion, causing the second man's knee to shatter and him to fall down. As she did so a flick of her wrists later saw her daggers in her hands. Using the momentum she easily pierced the third man's throat, enjoying the blood sprouting from him as he gurgled incoherently.
Andromeda was more restrained and simply cleaved the fourth man's back open, tearing his armour to pieces and causing him to yell out in pain as superficial wounds opened. Only a fool would turn his back towards an opponent, no matter the gender.
Fleur in turn used her rapier to easily puncture the fifth man's dominant hand, making him pretty much useless for the rest of the fight.
With the distraction out of the way Harry and his team concentrated on winning while Fleur and Bronn stayed back. Bronn having gotten a signal from the former to do so. It was fine with him to be paid for doing nothing.
'Besides, it doesn't seem like they need my help.' Bronn thought, somewhat impressed with what he saw. It proved his instincts right that these were people he wouldn't want to mess with, no matter what it seemed like to the contrary. His instincts having urged him to caution, but his mind's observations told him differently.
On the battlefield they became a storm of stars and silver, the incarnation of the night sky before the dawn, a maddening gyre of motion, an ebb and flow that was there and then not. Their movement belied years if not decades of experience, of working together, of knowing what the other was about to do next. Though Bronn wasn't sure how that was possible when they only seemed to be twenty and five namedays old. Bronn thought to see that the silver-haired woman wasn't as much in synch as the ones with predominantly dark hair. If so then it wasn't much until she was on that level.
The sellsword also found he couldn't look away. The women entered combat dressed with as much aesthetic care as if to meet a lover. One could tell the women took great pride in their appearance. The man too for that matter, but to a lesser degree. That they were dressed in amour and not expensive dresses made that only more impressive. Still, their braided hair held in place by gold wire was impeccable, not a strand out of place and their movements tantalizing, sensual and simply spellbinding.
Like the wanderers around a sun the women danced around the man in a radiant ballet and together they went to battle. As one they performed rolls, blocks, parries, backflips and pirouettes to evade or deflect their foes' attacks, slitting some throats and gouging out eyes as they went. Flowing around their enemy's attacks, their forms flawless it was painfully evident who was the predator on the prowl and who the prey. Like water they found every vulnerable nook and cranny in the enemy's defences, exploited it and went on to the next.
By the time Bronn was able to look anywhere else he noticed that two teams were already out and their targets captured or otherwise incapacitated. At the same time the group split up.
Bellatrix was having the time of her life. After conquering Slaver's Bay they did not have any big fights for her to enjoy. Granted she got enough entertainment with the occasional murderer, traitor or rapist who was placed under her mercy. Though, that was not the same as the sheer rush of adrenaline she experienced as blood pumped through her veins, pounding in her ears. She only felt truly alive when killing things or making love to Harry, preferably doing the killing first to get in the mood and then doing the second.
After all she had to be punished for her bad behaviour. She knew she deserved nothing less. Then again, the punishments were as exquisite as they were thrilling. Just thinking about it got her wet.
The eldest Black sister licked her lips as she remembered all these encounters. A shiver of anticipation and ecstasy raced through her body as she pierced through a man's weak spot at his left armpit. Blood flowed out akin to a bubbling brook, her blade drank it hungrily while Bella herself drank in her victim's desperate expression and screams. They were a fine wine to her, something to normally be savoured. However, she was half-starved and needed more to quench her thirst for battle and blood. A cackle of pure unadulterated joy burst out of her throat, as she twisted her Mithril dagger and ripped it out of the wound taking flesh and sinews with it. It sounded similar to a hag's cackle. With the distinction that Bellatrix' own had a clear edge of madness to it, reminding everyone in the stands of Aerys.
Said Mad King joined right in with Bella, enjoying the sight of carnage immensely. Only burning things would make it even better in his opinion.
As her latest victim fell to the floor squealing like a pig, after Bella stuck her second blade in his stomach, she was already attacking another. Her blades singing in euphoria as they danced in her skilled hands.
While Bella enjoyed the melee Andromeda was in the process of defeating another enemy. Before the man could even make a step in her direction Andromeda was already moving. In a blink of an eye she was a blur of motion. Her arm whipped around, still holding one of her axes. Bone crunched as the flat side of her axe broke the man's collarbone. Shock saw the man immobilised.
Andy swayed aside as another attacked her with a sword. The blow was wild, and the reverse stroke flew over her head. The queen crouched low, twisting as she did so to sweep her shin out and scythe his legs out from under him. The sellsword collapsed, his weapon falling on the sandy ground and away from him. Andromeda sprang to her feet and hammered her heel down onto the wrist of his dominant hand with considerable strength. The man gave a cry of agony as the bone cracked and splintered, driving fragments into and out of his flesh.
Gabrielle meanwhile was against a man a little larger than herself. She rolled her shoulders and swept her blade twice through the air. Her left hand held behind her back. Anger touched Gabby as she saw his frank appraisal of her physique, an appraisal that lingered far too long below her neck. He held his own weapon, a common longsword, securely and confidently in his grip.
He winked at her.
The Veela felt her jaw tighten, but clamped down on her dislike with practised ease. Emotion had no place in a battle. It clouded swordplay and had seen many a great swordsman slain by a lesser opponent. Sure, Oberyn had done basically the same, but not in a battle against her. Such behaviour just showed that he saw her as no threat. Being underestimated infuriated her more than any flirting ever could. In the past she had always been either the Veela or just Fleur's little sister. It was time to show them differently.
They circled one another. Gabrielle moved foot and blade like a dance. Her opponent in contrast was more akin to a drunk and lumbering fool. "Are you quite finished imitating a drooling infant?" She asked calmly, a mask of indifference on her face, accompanied by a perfect haughty sniff of disdain.
It seemed to be mocked by a woman in a fight was not something his pride could take. His anger at what he assumed was her undeserved arrogance overcame any reasonable caution, the tip of his sword coming towards her torso. A foolish mistake born out of blind anger and wounded pride. Gabrielle had read the attack before it was even launched and made a quarter turn to the left, letting his blade only touch air. Her own blade swept up, then down in a precise diagonal arc.
The crowd gasped at the wet splatter of blood on earth and the shocking suddenness of the fight's ending.
Gabrielle turned away as his sword fell to the ground. He fell to his knees, then slumped back onto his haunches, hands clutching his opened throat from which blood pumped enthusiastically. Before she left for the next opponent his eyes were already glassy and unseeing with impending death. She took no pleasure in it, but it should at least serve as a warning for anyone fool enough to underestimate her.
Harry was just finished with a sellsword, having knocked the man out, when a new fight began against another. Harry turned with the fluidity of a coiled snake to face the man. A skilled Hedge knight of some renown, mostly from small tourneys. "You're fast, demon." the knight said, slicing his sword through the air in a series of blindingly swift manoeuvres. For anyone normal that is. "But I'm no slouch with a blade."
"You believe you're fast?" Harry asked amused at the fact that this idiot talked instead of attacking. Besides, speed was his best natural skill. His prodigal and near precognitive reflexes, as well as his prowess as a seeker could attest to that more than enough. The comment about being a demon was ignored. The guy was probably a knight that took the religious aspect of his profession too seriously.
"Trained by the best and most noble Hedge knights there are." the man boasted. "You won't find me as easily defeated as your previous opponents. I'll free the maidens from your foul witchcraft by slaying you, demon."
Simply raising an eyebrow Harry replied calmly. "You can't free what isn't imprisoned."
"Liar, they wear the collars of slaves and I shall free the fair maidens from your nefarious influence." The knight blabbered on, probably too consumed by his knightly tales and fantasies of chivalry to notice Harry's change in demeanour. That moron probably thought Harry's wives helpless, thinking that all women couldn't do anything bad without some other influence on them. A deeply flawed thought that basically said all women were incapable of making decisions or capable of facing the consequences. It was the same with the women of Dorne. Knights from outside of Dorne claimed that the lustiness of the dornish women came from the hot spices instead of their more unrestricted customs or desires. Basically the man was an idiot.
Harry made no further reply and circled the knight, who did the same and watched as Harry tracked his every motion. His steps were fluid, graceful and precise, and the Hedge knight had the uncomfortable feeling that every passing second was revealing more of his own abilities to his opponent. It were the movements of someone able to invoke envy and awe in warriors. Worse was that the knight couldn't properly read his adversaries actions. Though, he could practically feel muscular limbs honed through years of dedication flex and tendons tensing, ready to explode into movement in an instant. It reminded one of a large predator eyeing up its next meal, ready to pounce. However, Harry's eyes showed nothing but calm confidence as they reflected a certainty of success. Harry was about to do what he did best.
No matter how he wished it to be different he couldn't change that about himself. He was an excellent smith, alchemist and cook. Was an insanely powerful wizard and a bloody prodigy in Defence against the Dark Arts. Though the thing he was best at was killing. Every other elven year old would've thrown up from the smell of burnt flesh and been traumatized by killing an adult with their bare hands. No matter the reason why. Yet, Harry wasn't. It was as if he was a natural-born killer and fighter. Just another of the many parallels to Voldemort. Though, unlike Tom Harry did not enjoy it.
The knight roared and threw himself at what he thought a demon, attacking in a blistering series of high slashes and lunges. Harry swayed aside, moving like a wind-blown sapling as he dodged, deflected and spun away from the knights strikes. The knight grew more desperate with each failed attack, but kept his blade in constant motion, forcing Harry back with every attack. Harry hadn't even broken a sweat. Harry's impassive mouth, expressionless eyes and casual disdain conveyed with his every move infuriated his opponent. The knight gathered himself for one final attack, drawing on every scrap of training, strength and righteous fury he could muster. His sword cut the air around the last Potter but never once made contact.
Harry sidestepped the desperate lunge, proving to be superior in speed and every other aspect as a fighter, and simply punched the man out cold with a devastating blow to the helmet. Careful to put not too much force into it and rip the man's head off by accident. The man may have been an idiot, but Harry avoided spilling blood whenever he could. Just because he was seemingly born to fight didn't mean he enjoyed it. A look around revealed that his wives did not share such a view.
Marcella was currently toying with a sellsword all her own. She was completely uninterested to what team he belonged to. Her group's goal was to eliminate all the others anyway and then capture the targets. She evaded another blow from his mace and mocked. "Oh, you nearly had me there." It was a lie and he knew it.
"Shut up." He shouted as his face twisted into a grimace. He had to beat this woman or the little reputation he had was about to die a swift death. Nobody would let him live it down should he be beaten by a woman. Much less hire him for anything.
At another failed attempt to land a blow coming from her opponent Marcella's expression of aloof arrogance melted into an infuriating smile of superiority. Her long braided hair held in a place by golden wire swished hypnotically as she moved in a mesmerizing display of sensuality and deadly grace.
It only served to make him angrier. His future was on the line here. Everyone in the realm would see his victory or defeat. The maddening fact of the matter was that should he win it wasn't seen as a big deal, because he won against what was seen as an inferior opponent. When he lost his career was dead. What kind of man couldn't even win against a woman? A weakling that's who. He'd be on the same level as a cripple. Useless.
"Hold still you slut." He yelled loudly, losing his cool at his inability to land even a single strike. "I'll rape you bloody when I'm finished with you."
The empty threat didn't go over well with Marcella. She tightened the grip on her short swords as she stared at the mongrel. A sardonic smile bloomed on her lips, a promise of pain and misery. Every former husband of hers had seen it before his demise. "Really?" She drawled dangerously, her voice as smooth and sweet as honey. "Stronger men than you have tried and failed. A cur like you won't succeed." Marcella promised him, her eyes staring into his unblinking. There was only one man she'd ever be subservient to and that was Harry.
The sellsword blinked just once, but that was enough for Marcella to be upon him. A storm of metal descended so fast he was unable to even raise his weapon. It hit him with the fury of a tempest, unstoppable and powerful. She bashed the mace away from his grasp to somewhere he couldn't see due to all the flashing metal in his vision. He'd never seen anything move like that. There was no indication from where the attacks would come. Only flashes and blood, then screams. Overwhelmed, the sellsword had no idea if it were his own or another's.
Normally her weapons would've cut through his armour like paper, but she was wielding an inferior replica out of normal steel. Steel that couldn't puncture mail easily, if at all. Even with her monstrous strength behind it. Not to mention that her weapons were made more for slashing than piercing. Luckily he wore no plate.
Still, that did not mean she couldn't teach her opponent a lesson he would remember for the rest of his life. A simple but strong kick to his midsection saw him tumbling to the ground, rolling to a stop lying on his back. She advanced on him swiftly, kicking him in the ribs and breaking more than a few, they narrowly missed his lungs. A strangled gasp escaped him. Instead of letting up Marcella leaned down and whispered. "I am usually a nice person." One hand trailed over his injured face littered with cuts and where blue bruises grew from the punches he suffered through. Hers was a painful caress. "But you just had to open your stupid mouth, didn't you?" Marcella's words were like a fist wrapped in velvet. They sounded pretty and inviting, but the intent was clear regardless. One look around from her revealed that most sellswords had simply given up and the rest of her group had things well in hand. She stuck her weapons into the ground seeing that.
"Fuck off." He gasped out, coughing up blood that stained his teeth red, causing the woman to straighten up. Weirdly enough he didn't notice that he was still looking into her eyes.
"Is that any way to speak to a queen?" Marcella cooed sweetly as she put a foot on his broken ribs and applied a little pressure. "Just tell me how worthless you are and the pain will stop." A grin was on her face that told of nothing nice. Little by little she put more pressure on his chest.
"Cunt." He replied through gritted teeth and was rewarded with more pain as Marcella stomped on his right elbow, breaking it in the process. The sellsword screamed out in agony, tears of pain flowing down his cheeks as he looked into her own. Yet, somehow accompanying the pain was a jolt of lust as he looked at the demonic woman. A shamefully intriguing delight coursed through his veins like lightning. Confusion flared to life, but died down quickly. Why couldn't he look away from the pools of darkness she called eyes?
"I seem to have misheard you. Can you repeat that?" Marcella asked. Once again standing on his ribs, moving her foot as if massaging his chest with it, keeping the pressure constant and with it the pain and pleasure. She enjoyed toying with men through Legilimency, twisting their thoughts and desires, breaking their spirits, unlike Bellatrix who had no preference and was more focussed on breaking her victims physically. It was a bonus that Legilimency wasn't obvious like other spells, making it impossible for Muggles to prove anything. She still held a grudge against men from how they treated her in the past. At home in Essos she couldn't do so without displeasing Harry, something she'd never risk. Here it was a little different in her opinion.
This time he was unable to get a word out, only a gurgle of anguish and rapture. Uselessly his subconsciousness ordered him to escape, causing him punch her with his good arm. All it did was waste his energy and injure his fist. Something that only furthered his delight as well. It also seemed she didn't even notice his attacks through her armour.
"How rude of me to attend to one side and ignore the other. Let me remedy that post haste." Poisoned honey coated her words. For his troubles she did the same to his left elbow, shattering it and making it useless. "Let's try again, shall we?" Satisfied that her victim was still entrapped in her gaze and that he didn't cry out this time. Instead he moaned happily, bucking his hips as his cock grew hard.
Her voice could only be described as beguiling. Even in a moment of cruelty Marcella was able to present a picture of disturbing loveliness, trapping the weak-minded or foolish in it, making the nickname of Black Widow every honour. Somehow he forgot all about his pain as he gazed at her standing over of him. The intoxication of her dark beauty overpowered any other thought of rejection or insult. His pain and sense of fear passed so swiftly he was unsure if he'd truly felt it in the first place.
"Pate." She spoke, and the sound of his name on her lips was divine, sending a surge of forbidden pleasure down his spine. Her beauty transfixed him, and he savoured every detail of her perfect form. Her features were angular and sharp with high cheekbones, framed by lustrous black hair containing coruscating stars, like that of a goddess. Soft, bronze skin, full lips and eyes of Delphic radiance drew him deeper into her web with the promise of raptures yet to come.
"You just have to admit what everyone here already knows." She said. Her smoky tones soothed his fears like a balm. "Can you do that for me?"
"Yes." he breathed out enraptured, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss that were her eyes until they completely swallowed him. "I can."
"Good. It would make me very unhappy to know you couldn't." Marcella stepped off of him, stopping the pain and with it the pleasure.
The thought of displeasing her let panic flare to life in Pate and he sat up. He tried to wrap his useless arms around the slender limbs of her lithe form, but was unable to. Instead he knelt with his head touching the ground. Where before was a torrent of ravishment and zest there now was an empty void. A cold shiver raced through his spine. He needed her excruciatingly painful affections.
"Anything for you, mistress." he swore with every fibre of his being, entirely succumbing to her thrall. Polishing her boots with his tongue.
Marcella looked down and smiled a heavenly wintry smile, leaning down just a bit she hooked a sharpened fingernail under his chin and drew Pate to his feet. A rivulet of blood ran down his neck, inflaming the fires of twisted passion inside him once again. She susurrated seductively, still looking into his eyes. "Just say the words, Pate. Shout them out! Admit your weakness and I'll give you what you crave for the rest of your life." unnoticed she cast a Sonorus charm at his throat.
Pate willingly obeyed, all thought save pleasing her vanishing like wind-blown smoke. "I am trash, a weakling not worth the dirt under your boots. Please, fulfil my deepest desire and punish me, mistress!" he shouted out for all to hear and all the people in attendance did hear him loud and clear. The only thing that mattered to Pate was the next decadent treat she'd give him.
Marcella's fanged smile turned even more predatory, her eyes glittering maliciously. No one looking on would hire such a sellsword. She had taken his dreams and shredded them into tiny pieces. Nobody hired an emasculated man to do anything, much less trust one. A man losing to a woman in a fight was worthless in the eyes of Westerosi. One who submitted to a foreign one in such a manner even more so. After the Defiance of Duskendale foreigners weren't very well received in Westeros. He was about as useful as a cripple and the only way a warrior could retain his honour in that case was to kill himself.
Subconsciously he knew all of that, causing tears to flow down his face as he smiled happily in his debauched and twisted state of torment. "As you wish, but I have to remove your hauberk." She agreed with a softly spoken but haunting melody. After she had done so she took one short sword and put the tip directly over his heart. "Kill me!" Pate shouted out once Marcella pushed, performing one of the most delicate and tender of killing strokes.
Pate shuddered in ecstasy as his traitorous body exploded in torturous delight once the blade penetrated him. A final moment of orgasmic bliss overcame him as he climaxed, soiling his trousers with his essence. He gasped and moaned out loud, finally collapsing as she removed her weapon, letting him fall to the ground. Dead with a demented smile on his face and tears in his eyes.
Everyone was completely silent after what they just witnessed. It had been an execution where the condemned gladly walked to his death. Nobody missed it because that was one of the last fights and had happened in the middle of the grounds. The Sonorus charm had also something to do with it.
'Did you have to do that?' Marcella heard Harry's voice inside her skull. It was exasperation mixed with a kind of tired acceptance born out of the knowledge that it had happened more than once in the past. And would happen again in the future.
'Yes.' she responded immediately. 'He threatened to rape me bloody.' the annoyed huff was clear to hear in her thoughts.
'Oh, all right then.' came back from her husband, satisfied with her reason. 'Still, you could've simply killed him.' It showed how used and accepting he was to these methods that he didn't even requested they simply knock their opponents out. Harry was beyond that, but he needed good reasons to kill.
'An example had to be made. When I let one slide then others will feel free to wag their tongues or worse, act. It didn't matter if he was a braggart or not.' Marcella explained and got clear consent from her sister-wives.
She heard his mental sigh. 'I know, doesn't mean I have to like it.' he said. At least there hadn't been many casualties. The Westerlanders killed more people. Most of the people Harry's group fought against were severely injured and or crippled, but not dead. Narcissa would be able to fix them up quickly.
'And you don't have to.' Fleur spoke in an attempt to sooth him.
Marcella spoke again. 'There is nothing to fear should these people take it negatively. I have done nothing to arouse suspicion. As far as everyone is concerned this man was sick in the head. I'm sure there are examples to back that up.' Her words sounded clear and confident through the bond. Besides they had the king under the Imperius curse. Not that Marcella thought the man actually cared for his subjects. 'Guest Right also was not violated. Everyone should know that fighting with real steel can lead to injury or worse.'
'I hope so for your sake.' Narcissa threatened. She didn't use her resources and potions to get them a better public image just to fall back to square one.
'Forget that. I'm disappointed that nobody attacked me seriously!' Fleur complained with a mental huff. Every single one had seemed hesitant to even attack her. She had no idea if her Allure had slipped while fighting of if they simply did not fight women. Only the laughter and giggles of her consorts was answering her complaint.
Further conversation was halted as King Aerys was applauding wildly in standing ovation from his personal box. One look to Andy showed that she was just as lost as to why the man showed such behaviour. So it wasn't anything she commanded him to do. With the king's applause came the rest. No one wanted to lose favour or incur the man's insane wrath.
"Excellent, finally someone who knows how to fight. I can't wait for the finale tomorrow." the Mad King exclaimed giddily, a giggle making it past his lips that grew in strength and intensity. His belly was growing and deflating as he laughed insanely, his long beard swishing from side to side.
His laughter stopped as suddenly as it came. This time due to Andromeda's control, intent to help salvage their meagre reputation. She commanded him to speak loudly and clearly. "You even released a poor confused soul from its torment in this world and I thank you for it." The next moment the man was talking to someone beside him, ignoring what was before him entirely.
Not really wanting to answer Harry simply nodded politely while his wives did the same. As soon as possible they vacated the grounds, preparing for the next dinner with King Aerys.
Today's dinner with Aerys came sooner than they all would've liked. Though Bellatrix used the time to work off some of her lust gained through fighting. Otherwise she'd assault him during the meal when her self-control finally snapped. And while Harry bending her over the dinner table with their guests present for it sounded kinky, it wasn't furthering their goals.
Like before the group changed their outfits. This time it was their best and most conservative attire, robes covering their whole bodies. Andromeda was currently in the process of putting the finishing touched upon their royal garments, but the process took longer than anticipated due to all the enchantments she was putting on them with Bella's help as well as the nature of the materials.
Instead of Tywin and his close family, this time came House Baratheon. All three men were tall with black hair and blue eyes, while one wasn't bulky but more sinewy. The woman possessed brown hair, green eyes, medium height and a filled out figure with some minimal plumpness to it, remnants of her pregnancies and signs of her age. As usual the six Kingsguard were present, guarding Aerys to the best of their ability. As well as glaring at Harry and his group in suspicion, distrust and other emotions. Few of them positive.
Among the positive ones was princess Elia together with Oberyn, separated by the rest due to Lewyn standing to guard them.
'Ugh, it is that idiot.' Andromeda practically hissed through the bond upon laying eyes on Robert.
Bellatrix had her sights on the other muscular man and his apparent wife. 'Haven't we seen these two before?' she asked, ignoring her sister's exclamation.
'Wasn't that the guy who asked Cissy if she wanted to marry into royalty?' Marcella mused, remembering their stay in the Merchant's House, an inn in Volantis. At the time they had thought the guy to be a simple drunkard talking bullshit.
Narcissa simply stared coldly at the man who didn't seem to recognize them as Andy growled. 'Seems being drunk and wanting to abduct women lies in the family.'
Fleur, Melisandre, Gabrielle and Kinvara asked what the other had done and it was explained quickly.
Outwardly not a single of their smiles was out of place even if they were less than pleased inside. "Good evening, King Harry." Aerys greeted with a smile, nodding to him and slightly bowing to Harry's queens. "And how could one forget your Queens." his smile on his face grew demented, a glint entered his violet eyes that made his madness clear for all.
"King Aerys." Harry reciprocated the nod and his eyes settled on the other people. "I see our company has changed from last time. I hope we didn't bore Lord Tywin?" An enigmatic smile was on his face as he said that.
Aerys shook his head, his long beard and uncombed hair swinging with the motion. "No, he had other pressing business to attend to." one hand waved of the topic of his Hand dismissively. With impossibly long nails he pointed to the people he brought with him. "You already know the dornish and Rhaegar is once again training for the Joust." the Mad King barely glanced at the prince and princess of Dorne. "Instead of Tywin I have with me my cousin Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and my Master of Laws. His wife, Lady Cassana Baratheon and his sons Robert and Stannis." he abruptly and menacingly turned back to Steffon, barking. "Where is your other son, little Renly?"
Steffon answered quickly. He should be used to his cousin's mood swings and behaviour but it still unsettled him. "He is much too small and just barely four namedays old, Your Grace. He would've slept through most of it."
Placated Aerys just grunted. Robert stared at Andromeda, who stared right back with her best expression of haughty disdain. Stannis meanwhile was clearly uncomfortable having absolutely no idea how to really talk to women and generally being more reserved with them because of it.
"It is nice to meet you again and have a name for the face, Steffon." Narcissa said evenly to the big and muscular man after all were seated with bluebell flames illuminating the tent. Instead of English fare Harry had prepared French food and combined the starter and main course in one by serving a Bouillabaisse. It also saved time.
First came a fish soup followed by cooked fish, seafood served with potatoes and fresh and crisp bread. Like before the soup contained Draught of Peace for Aerys.
"I'm sorry, but this is the first time we meet." the Lord of Storm's End countered confused, eyeing them all suspiciously. His wife did much the same.
Acting offended Marcella gasped. "So you forgot our lovely encounter in Volantis? I believe it was around three years ago in the the establishment called the Merchant's House." she frowned as if disappointed in him for forgetting that. "Then again you were pretty drunk at the time."
"Oh, why am I just hearing of this now?" Aerys demanded from his Master of Laws, acting on Andromeda's orders.
The Lord and Lady of Storm's End paled at that, remembering who these people were. Robert simply seemed lost, not even wanting to be here and Stannis could've been replaced by a statue without anyone noticing. Fortunately Narcissa seemingly waved Aerys off and explained. "At the time we travelled in disguise, having dyed our hair to not draw attention with its natural state." for emphasis she played with her starry locks a bit. "We just had left Sothoryos and were exploring Essos to find a place to settle down. Lord and Lady Baratheon couldn't have possibly known who they were talking with at the time. Not to mention that we did not have the reputation then that we have now."
"I recall, but as far as I remember you were in a group of four at the time." Cassana said, trying to direct the conversation away from her husband. Also thankful for the good word being said in their favour. Aerys had been displeased enough for their failure of bringing home a bride of valyrian descent. She hadn't seen their eyes due to the poor lightning in the inn at the time.
"Fleur, Kinvara, Melisandre and Gabrielle were somewhere else at the time of our encounter and Harry was in the process of buying lodging at the inn. I hope Narcissa's rejection didn't hurt too much." Bellatrix spoke. A grin was on her face, knowing that it had hurt in more ways than one.
"Not at all." Steffon claimed, a strained jolly laugh escaped him, trying to disperse the tenseness in the air. He was elated to be alive, but also remembered the punch and the force behind it. At the time he had put it off due to his drunkenness and the skewered perception because of it. A woman shouldn't be able to do so. He shivered a little as he thought about fighting these women and hoped his team or any other would not share the fate of that sellsword. "If anything I suppose we have to thank you for it. Without it we would've gotten to our ship in time and from what I heard it sank in a devastating storm not far away from Storm's End."
They still had been in the storm on a ship sailing a few hours later, but by then the storm had lost most of its strength.
Robert and Stannis were stunned at that, remembering the ship clearly. Both had been present at Storm's End, waiting for their parents return and saw the ship they thought their parents on sink in the violent storm. Later word came from Steffon and Cassana that they had not been on the vessel. Even Robert had hugged Stannis in his relief. It had spoken volumes that Stannis accepted the gesture, though at the time his elation suppressed his annoyance. To know that these people were unknowingly responsible for their parents survival was an uncomfortable thought.
The soup was replaced by the fish of the Bouillabaisse with potato slices and bread.
Robert asked, blunt as always. "How did you beat grown men?" looking at Harry's wives as he said that, their delicate hands in particular. There were no callouses or cuts on them and they looked soft, hands of noblewomen in short. Yet they humiliated fighters that should've been stronger than them. Robert doubted they paid every single one of them. To lose against a woman in such a public setting was a death sentence for the reputation of any knight or sellsword.
Normally Steffon would berate his son for his blunt delivery. Though, like everyone else in the room, he was interested in the answer.
"I'd like to know that as well." Oberyn inquired with the look of a parched man in a desert.
Acting confused Fleur replied. "Eh, what do you mean? We simply fought with all we had. I must say it was quite a disappointment to win so easily." Steffon nearly choked on his food. In his mind the answer could only mean that they had no idea how strong they were in comparison to normal people.
Her sister interjected, keeping her mirth under control. "I think what my sister means to say is we still forget from time to time that other people are not as strong as us."
Robert openly scoffed and ignored his mother sending him a warning look. Stannis looked sceptical as well. "Prove it." the heir of Storm's End challenged. Evidence had stared him right in the face during the melee, but doubt was still present in his mind. "Let us arm wrestle." he promptly put his elbow on the table, nearly knocking over the dishes and looked at Kinvara sitting opposite of him. He looked a bit red in the face, from the alcohol most likely. Just past the starter and three glasses of wine had made it past his throat already. Apparently taste didn't seem as important as getting pissed in Robert's case.
The red priestess looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow, a question burning in her gaze.
"Sure, show him." Harry shrugged, knowing the most likely outcome. He cleared the table a bit by levitating dishes and plates to prevent accidents.
The petite redhead rolled up her long sleeves, put her elbow on the table and let Robert's much bigger hand grab her own, completely concealing it. Kinvara grinned as she counted down. "On three. One, two, three." As soon as the last number left her lips Robert tried to push her hand down. Kinvara's hand budged under the man's considerable strength, going down more than halfway. After a few seconds she overcame her surprise and pushed his hand back to the middle and then further so that he was halfway down now.
In response the muscles in Robert's arm bulged as he put more strength into it, getting Kinvara to the middle point once more. His face grew even more red and just as he thought he was winning ground Kinvara pushed with all she had, just so pinning his hand down on the table and rattling the tableware in the process. Grinning smugly and pulling her sleeves back down, the priestess declared. "There is your proof."
Still, Robert's strength was nothing to scoff at, not to mention that he was intoxicated at the moment.
Their guests could only stare dumbly at that. For them to have magic was one thing, but to be so strong as well was another. Aerys simply giggled madly, nearly falling off his chair. He cackled. "You certainly showed the rabble who is stronger."
Narcissa's inner actor came out as she grimaced, telling. "True enough, though like Gabrielle said we tend to forget our strength. I guess it also doesn't help that we can easily treat wounds and conditions that are normally life-threatening." She shrugged in a sheepish manner. "Besides, I am currently treating people for free and everyone injured can use the treatment I provide." She even did so for the participants of the melee and their opponents.
Frowning Steffon conceded the point. After glancing at Aerys and seeing him eating with a blissful expression etched on his face he spoke. "I doubt you can bring back the dead and I don't see the reason why you practically executed that man!" No specification was needed, everyone had seen it.
Marcella appeared pained, but in truth she was annoyed inside. "You are correct that we can't bring back the dead. Nobody can." that was in the divine domain together with creating true love and other such things impossible to do with magic. "I only did so because he begged me to do it. Apparently he had an affliction of the mind that caused him to enjoy pain and humiliation. However, I can only deduce from what he whispered to me." Butter wouldn't melt in Marcella's mouth and she appeared truly regretful. Another perk that came with being a Black Widow. A funeral wasn't complete without a grieving widow after all. "Like you heard he did beg me to do so in the end and I did. Mostly because he was of the opinion that it was better to die with what little honour he had left than to live without it."
The Westerosi and the knights especially nodded in approval at that. Only Arthur appeared pained for a moment as the matter of honour came up. His eyes fell on Elia and he sent her a longing look, but he schooled his features quickly.
Oberyn came to their rescue, not wanting the tenseness in the room to stay. "Is the armour you wore made out of silver, like I think it is?" Like any good fighter Oberyn knew that armour out of silver was useless. Directly contradicting the fact that they fought better than most. Though, that could be because they had to fight against the rabble out of Hedge knights and Sellswords.
Harry answered with a shake of his head, glad at the change of topic. "No, it only looks like silver. In truth it is Mithril, a special alloy made out of extremely pure silver and other materials. One can compare it to Valyrian Steel, but it has more properties than that. It is extremely lightweight, indestructible and repels anything that damages it, be it dust, rust or something else." He left out its ability to imbue itself with things that made it stronger. Better to not let these people know that most of their weapons were poisoned.
He even followed it up with a short demonstration where he changed into his leather armour and hauberk and let himself be struck by a Kingsguard. Showing that the Basilisk leather was as strong as scales of a dragon, but more flexible. The hauberk out of Mithril was stared at quite a bit. Mostly due to the masterful craftsmanship. It was close-woven of many rings, as supple as linen and much harder than steel. Easily able to withstand a spear-thrust able to skewer a wild boar.
From then on the evening progressed without difficulty and much better than the one before. The knights would probably not trust them in this lifetime, but that was no problem. Aerys had orders from Andy to tell everyone he met how merciful it was of them to release a poor soul from its shameful torment.
They didn't know it yet, but tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.
Next chapter comes Cersei's Walk of Atonement and Tywin plotting with the Faith. (Without giving them back the Faith Militant mind you.) As well as Harry's reaction to it. Before that comes a small journey North of the Wall and meeting Brynden Rivers and the Children. Narcissa will meet Walder Frey and a few of his brood. And the finale of the Melee will also happen.
I have planned to get Davos, Bronn and Qyburn with Harry. (Though Davos is undecided because he doesn't trust Harry. Bronn would do it because of the gold and Qyburn because of the research opportunities.) Maybe even Sandor as a "Bodyguard" for Cersei once she gets to Essos. Again unsure as to that one.
As to the fact that men beaten by a woman are unsuited for combat, well there are reasons for that. One only has to look at Samwell Tarly and the pressure his father put on him to be more "manly". Or the Karstark men that talked about Bran and him being crippled. All of them agreed that killing themselves was a better fate than to live like that. Being beaten by a woman in such a public setting and so soundly is a big embarrasment. In a time where honour was something a man earned. It was something externally and not internally and usually someone of higher standing gave it. (For example when a knight makes another one or the King elevates someone. Usually people respond with "You honour me". Which clearly means it was something given and could therefore be taken away again. In case of losing against a woman a man's honour was insulted and weakened, if not dead.
People often talk about women having it rough in Westeros. Well, men have it tough as well. They have expectations and social pressure on them just as much. And are required to be a levy and go to war with no training and most likely die . On the topic of marriage in Westeros, well an arranged marriage is between two people and I doubt the men are much more enthused about that than the women, should they love someone else already. (See Jaime.)
Hope you enjoyed it. If anyone finds a major flaw like last chapter please PM me. Thanks.