Chapter Thirty-Nine
…..
Osgiliath, Coliseum
The Final Part of the Grand Melee; normally one would expect for a melee in a tourney to be free-for-all fight in its last stages with the fighter remaining standing being declared the winner. Delianah however changed all that. The final part of the Grand melee in the tourney is instead an obstacle course, a complete deviation from the traditional method it usually employs.
Suffice it to say, the objective of the contenders is actually simple since they would be fighting together instead of against one another. They would need to assault a "keep" and plant their main flag at its topmost tower. It is however not as simple as it looks.
The setup of the terrain is a fortress with two gates before the main keep with improvised mud walls. The "keep" would be defended by several hundred less punished criminals conveniently captured by the Bounty Hunter's Guild. Of course seeing that this is not a real battle, the weapons are heavily blunted and designed not to cut. Same goes with the arrows and the hot water that would be substitute for the oil that keep defenders would usually use. Ballistae have rubber tips and the catapult ammunitions are hardened foam that would break upon impact. Sure they would not kill but they would obviously bruise and knock out people easily.
"We have the disadvantage here," Ned murmurs as he observes the mud fortress looming over them at the middle of the arena.
"Where would be the fun if there is no challenge to be had eh Ned?" chuckles a very happy Robert approaching him with a dozen Stormlords and of course some of the temporary personal "silver-cloaked" guards that the King has, personally handpicked by the Queen since the Kingsguard are being stretched thin currently.
Robert is of course as Ned expects in high spirits. Apparently after having his armor stretched (Double its size and width at that) to fit him, the fat king is ecstatic to enter a "True battle" instead of simply watching from afar. While he is unhappy at the non-lethal rule and given a less damaging warhammer which he aptly calls a "pillow hammer", Robert is up and raring to go.
Ned resists the urge to scowl at his best friend. With all the safety precautions to avoid unnecessary deaths, the disadvantage lies more on the attackers than the defenders. The criminals after all would be doing nothing more than pushing them down off the walls while they have to either knock them out or maim them without killing them. It is far easier to kill a person than to beat him senseless. Plus the attackers have a time limit of two hours at most before the defenders are declared default in victory.
Rechecking the straps of his bracers for the last time, Ned takes a look at his fellow "allies. They are a ragtag bunch from different kingdoms and lands mingling in a symphony of colors. Some do stand out however like the Redcloaks of Ser Kevan Lannister, the Knights of the Vale under Ser Royce, the Silver Knights under Ser Leomord of Rivendell with their unique wings at the back, the Riverlanders under Edmure, the ever preening colorful knights of the Reach under Loras Tyrell, the Yellow Light attires of the Dornish with their Prince Oberyn Martell (For some reason the Prince smells really bad), the fur cloaks of course of his Northeners, and the rather shaggy outfits of the Stormlanders despite their wide shields.
Of course not all of them are Westerosi. There are smaller and more diverse groups like the Royal Golden Guards of Yi Ti, Arashis from Nihon Ja, representatives from Groguryo and countless dozen others from Essos and lands who wants a taste of the unique style of the Final Round of the Grand Melee.
"NOW MY DEAR LORDS AND LADIES AND THE REST OF YOU WHO ARE HERE! YOUR WAIT IS OVER!" the booming voice of the herald is heard amid the roars and cheers of the crowds. "THE GREAT MELEE WILL BEGIN IN FIVE…..!"
Ned pulls down the face shield of his helmet (blunt arrows or not, he would be stupid not to wear one) down as he crouches amid his twelve Northern bodyguards on their cover of earth.
"FOUR!"
"BARATHEON!" he promptly ignores the overenthusiastic war cry of Robert who are way too happy on being in a temporary battlefield again.
"THREE!"
"HEAR ME ROAR!"
"TWO!"
"Loras I love youuuuuu,!" a very drunk Renly Baratheon shouts way too loud before the nearest guard could slap a hand on his mouth.
"ONE!"
"WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS?!"
"WE PREVAIL!" the Black Guard participants under Draco roars out hoarsely.
The blast of the trumpet echoing marks the start of the event and everyone immediately breaks cover of the sand piles that they have been assigned to. Ned can see Leomord and the Silver Knights alongside the Knights of the Vale are a little bit slower due to their heavy armor compared to the excited ragtag groups who reacts excitedly in a blind. It certainly proves to be a blessing in disguise.
Arrows immediately meet the charge head on and the sounds of the cheering soldiers grind to a halt as everyone stops and jumps for cover leaving the unfortunate few groaning on the ground riddled with bruises. Of course the arrows do not kill with their hardened rubber points but they can cause one hell of a punch either way. The infamous "Prince Ali of Ibabwa" who claims to be as strong as ten men (despite looking like a damned twig) with his retinue get the worst of it as their desert robes do little to protect them from the barrage.
"Forward we move! Shields!" Robert commands making the Stormlanders and Crownlanders respond to his booming call by interlocking their shields as they broke cover braving the archer fire as they advance.
Of course everyone chooses not to be left behind. Many of the independent warriors from the Free Cities ran forward shields up. The Black Guard forms their infamous phalanxes as they struggle to follow Robert up front alongside the Red Cloaks with their own shield wall. Others like the Royal Guard from Yi Ti who lacks shields are being utterly decimated since they are wielding two handed polearms.
"Come on people! Shield to shield! We advance behind the Stormlanders and Crownlanders!" Ned finds himself shouting, beckoning specifically to the heavy units and his own Northern Brethren.
The Castellan of Osgiliath of course needs no more incentive as he fells in line with the twenty-five Black Guard soldiers interlocking their circular shields as they advance behind the Stormlander lines.
Already the attack is gaining groun. With the Stormlanders, Crownlanders, Black Guard, the Northmen, and Silver Knights, who knows a thing or two about Siege battles leading the way(thanks to 21st Century era education in their training about bringing down castles), the approach to the gate goes steady as the distance is closed. It is then that the catapults and the ballistae start firing massive balls of snow, ice and meter long shafts with rubber ends crash into the shield formations with gusto.
Let it be known that no matter how good your formation is; there ist just no stopping the show stopping impact force of a large projectile.
Men are sent flying as debris of snow scatters everywhere. Those that manage to retain their feet are skidding and sliding, the ground immediately turning muddy trapping many knights. The Knights of the Vale especially get the worst of it as two snow balls, each the size of four men put together get a direct hit at their lines sending the Valemen scattering. The Northmen fare better being completely used to this kind of threats back at the North. They easily manage to get back on their feet, the fur clothes and armor giving them less weight to deal with. The Black Guard much to their merit simply changes tactic by breaking the shield phalanx into one man space positions with shields facing forward to prevent a single shot from a catapult to flattening all of them at once.
The constant advance however has given the archers on their side the range they need to fire back. Braavosi longbows specifically can now be used to devastating effect.
"ARCHERS! Knock! Draw! Loose!" the shout of Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos results to ten bowstrings firing with pinpoint accuracy at the gathered prisoners who don't expect the sudden precise barrage.
In a matter of seconds, the men atop the walls of the gate are thrown off their feet, moaning on the ground in pain. Thankfully none of the representatives of the Lord Paramounts have acted stupidly yet so far.
"Stormlanders! Man the Ram! We will show these cunts the strength of a Baratheon's antlers!" Robert shouts gleefully even with one eye swollen, courtesy of a blunt arrow finding its mark. Fat or not, the once dubbed Usurper leads the Stormlanders galvanizing the twenty or so of his countrymen to roar their agreement as they grab the ram and slam it directly at the wooden gate cracking it at the first blow.
"Cover the king! Cover him!" Ned finds himself shouting to bring the gathered forces into action as they charge beside the Stormlanders and Crownlanders. Those with bows especially are proving cover fire for those with shields and wielding two handed weapons.
"HEAVE! PUSH!" roars Robert the battering ram once more swings with the might of a juggernaut slamming to the gates. Following the attack is the sound of splintering wood as the bars and locks crack open and the gate slams backwards with a loud crash. The attackers need no more encouraging.
"BARATHEON!" the enthusiastic Stormlanders with Robert takes the front charging forward like a bull crashing to the surprised defenders. The enthusiastic Stormlanders do what they do best with Robert in the lead hacking and smashing anyone too dumb that stands on their way. Behind them the rest of the attacking force pour in.
Ned however leads his Northeners at the right side of the ram still being pushed with the Crownlanders with the Silver Knights' as support. The Silver Knights might originally be a cavalry unit but he has seen enough to know that all Knights know how to use sabres as backup weapons with great skill when they are on foot. Said training are doing them well now as they move in one formation compared to the ramshackle form of the Northeners covering the flank of the moving roam to the second gate. They do not to worry about their rear being outflanked as the rest of the invasion force chase around the fleeing invaders in twelve different directions.
"Cover the ram! Move! Tet-OH SHIT!" the sound of a crash makes Ned wince as he sees the group from Qohor gets flattened by a ball of ice, courtesy of a catapult from the defenders of the second gate.
"Move! Move! Archers cover the rear eh! Cover the ear!" the calls of Ser KEvan urges the rest of the attackers as they are once more pelted with blunt arrows and javelins the nearer they get to the gate.
Ned himself grunts as he swings his sparring blade backhand and foehand sending a berserker criminal crashing to the ground before collapsing him with a shield bash. Men around him are falling left and right as arrows and blows are exchanged. The symphony of sounds almost made him believe as if he is at Pyke again or during the Rebellion fighting the damned Targaryen loyalists.
"HEAVE! BARATHEON!" the ram smashes to the second gate again and again as the muscular Stormlanders now with Reach support wield it expertly against the final defense to victory.
"HEAVE! AAAAHHHH! HOT! HOT!" the Reachers especially ran around like little girls, skin red raw courtesy of the hot water poured from above.
Of course this results to cheers from the defenders as they pelt the running Stormlanders with blunted arrows and large snowballs thrown from slings.
"Man the Ram! The stern voice of Castellan Draco makes Ned focus back at the breaking gate and not at the form of Robert almost turning into a snowman by the amount of snow hurled unto him.
"HEAVE! LOOSE!" the sound of creaking rope is heard as the ram slams once more into the gate cracking it open; paving the way to the keep.
"VICTORY! FOR VICTORY!-UGGH!" the charging members of the other nations immediately go down like bowling pins as they are pelted by dozens of arrows courtesy of the defenders manning the mud wall. The Captain of the Silver Knights' thankfully has the common sense on keeping his men behind the ram else they would also have joined the disaster.
"WE will break through! Everybody else follow us!" Oberyn Martell yells amid the din of the battle before leading the Dornish to the opening at the gate. They certainly do not expect the large amount of arrows that receive them for they are all lying on the ground in bruises next second with the Black Guard coming up next after them.
The Castellan it seems have more sense than the Dornish for they manage to quickly form their shield wall drawing most of the fire from the rest of the beleaguered attackers.
Ned wastes no time shouting a rallying call to whomever is left standing as he looks at the gathered attackers for a few seconds before yelling off a war cry gesturing for everyone to follow him. The rest of the force needs no more invitation as they charge alongside the Northeners and the Silver Knights in a single file ignoring the unfortunate few bruised by the arrows before redirected from them by the Black Guard. Ned has to admit the wolf blood inside him(which seldom appears) is singing loudly also making him want nothing more than to hack his enemies to dirt. He certainly ignores stepping on the jewels of a certain Dornish Prince who blows off all the helium on his lungs.
As Ned crashes his shield on the nearest of the prisoners-in-armor; he smirks as he notices the black clad forms of the Black Guard being hold back beforehand now pushing past through the mass of fighting bodies easily, their skill of fighting as a unit before as Unsullied showing in full force. As they cut through the lines towards the flag, Ned roars a war cry of victory. It seems this round goes to the North and its allies.
Too bad for Snowman Robert stuck on the field.
…
Osgiliath Private Quarters
The sound of flesh meeting flesh are heard followed by the pleasured moans of Myrcella Baratheon as she lies on the bed.
"Please, Yas, your hands are so good. Where did you learn to do this?"
"All concubines are taught how to pleasure the body in different forms Princess. I am glad though that you enjoy my ministrations,"
"Oh yes, please, don't stop," Yasmina moans again under the skillful hands of the concubine massaging her bare back. It took hours before she manages to pry herself off from the attention of the Royal Family and go here. Princess or not, that damned throne lacks cushions no matter how goldy it looks. Myrcella rather prefers the soft couches at Rivenell compared to Osgiliath's thrones any time of the day.
The sound of the door opening makes the two turn towards the sight of Delianah walking with a shaking Rhaenys in tow.
"Rae-Rae! Are you alright?" Myrcella stands up completely pushing away the hands of Yasmina massaging her back through the bare opening of her dress as she rushes to Rhaenys who is still shaking like a leaf and her eyes seem to be looking at a distance and completely unfocused.
"Is she alright?" Myrcella this time turns her attention at Delianah who grimly shakes her head.
"She has seen Gregor Clegane personally down at the Coliseum fighting me and Oberyn Martell has tried breaching through her tower door upon seeing her. Apparently he believes that she looks a lot like her mother that's why he came to investigate. Seeing them all in one place is apparently a full reminder for Rhaenys here of her past near death experience,"
"Oh, then she can stay here at the Private Quarters. She would sequestered here without anyone knowing. I can stay with her if you like Delia," Myrcella offers.
"No," the Dame of Rivendell sighs sitting on a couch while Myrcella maneuvers Rhaenys to the sofa which she immediately lies on to, her head at Myrcella's lap still with that blank stare. "You need to show up at the royal box Cella. You know your responsibilities as the Crown Princess. You need to make a public showing that shows you your position as something you might respect.
Myrcella resists the urge to scowl. Suffice it to say that she doesn't really enjoy the current family reunion she is having. While she is thankful that her father has allowed her to stay here and foster before, it seems that the rare fatherly love he has before has evaporated once again. Her mother attempted to murder the woman she admires and her brother wants nothing more than to make a pincushion of her via crossbow. So yeah, she'll rather stay here and help Rae-Rae than listen to Joffrey's snide remarks about which part of her would be the best crossbow target.
Unfortunately she also knows that she would get Delianah's disapproval. She knows more than anyone after all how important an image could be. She has seen how Delianah weaves hers expertly and everyone is praising her name. Even her enemies now speak her name in respect. Myrcella is a princess and her very station gives her status and prestige that Delianah could never have.
Like everything though, it is only maintained if she shows that she takes her responsibilities correctly.
"I'll be leaving her then at your care Yasmina," she turns at Delianah's concubine who bows. "Please don't hesitate to call me when you need me,"
"Yes my lady," Yasmina bows.
Finished, Myrcella nods at Delianah as the two of them wordlessly heads back outside to the stadium
…
Author's Note:
Ill reply to the reviews later since its morning already. Anyway fellow Westerosi, hope you like this action packed chapter. Big surprise next one and the end of the Tourney.