The roar of the crowd echoed across the tourney grounds as the melee raged on, steel clashing and grunts of effort rising from the combatants. From her seat, Rhaenyra's pulse raced with excitement, her eyes locked on the field below. Alicent sat beside her, stealing glances at the fighters, her face a mixture of concern and fascination. To their left, King Viserys looked on with mild interest, while Otto Hightower kept a watchful eye on the proceedings.
Among the dozen fighters left standing, three figures stood out to Rhaenyra above the rest: her uncle, Prince Daemon; the newly introduced Rhaegor; and the talented knight Ser Criston Cole.
The melee had started with chaos—knights hacking away at each other, alliances forming and crumbling within moments. But now the field was narrowing, and the most skilled among them were emerging.
Daemon Targaryen fought with his usual deadly grace, a whirl of silver hair and black armor. His first notable victory came against Ser Harwin Strong, whose strength was his greatest asset. Strong landed powerful blows, but Daemon was faster, parrying and countering with speed. After a relentless back-and-forth, a clever feint by Daemon left Strong exposed, and a quick strike to the leg forced the man to yield, limping off the field.
Daemon's next opponent, Lord Jason Lannister, fared no better. Though skilled, the Lannister lacked the combat experience Daemon possessed. He fought defensively, but after a series of brutal exchanges, Daemon's sword caught him on the shoulder, sending him crashing into the dirt. Lannister yielded with a groan, clearly winded.
It was lucky for the Lannister that Dark Sister hadn't cut right through his armor as Valyrian steel was known to do.
As Daemon dispatched his opponents, Rhaenyra's attention drifted to her cousin, Rhaegor. Clad in his unusual bright red and blue, Rhaegor stood out from the other knights. His first real challenge came in the form of Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent's brother. The two circled each other warily, and for a moment, it seemed Gwayne had the upper hand. The older man had a longer reach, in both sword and arm, keeping the blue haired bastard back but Rhaegor was fast and precise, and after a vicious exchange of blows, he landed a strike to Gwayne's side, sending him reeling. Gwayne yielded soon after, to the dismay of Alicent, who gasped softly beside Rhaenyra.
It looked so effortless, like watching a man drown at sea. It didn't matter how well someone could swim, if they stayed in the water long enough they'd drown.
Rhaegor's next opponent, Ser Boros Baratheon, was a hulking brute, larger than most full grown men, known for his raw power. The battle between them was fierce, with Boros swinging wildly in an attempt to overpower the Rhaegor. But Rhaegor kept his calm, moving in and out of the Baratheon's man range, easily weaving back into range to counter attack. It only took one swift strike to Baratheon's knee to send the larger man toppling to ground. Rhaegor stood victorious but visibly winded.
By now, only a handful of combatants remained: Daemon, Rhaegor, Ser Criston Cole, and a few others. Cole had shown his prowess earlier by defeating Ser Lyn Corbray, a skilled and dangerous fighter. Their duel had been long and arduous, but Cole's precision and patience had worn Corbray down until a well-placed blow disarmed him, securing Cole's place in the final bout.
The moment had come when only Daemon, Rhaegor, and Ser Criston Cole remained on the field. The crowd's energy was palpable, the anticipation thick in the air. From her seat, Rhaenyra felt her heart pound as she watched the three figures circle each other.
Otto Hightower, ever observant, leaned toward Viserys. "They'll team up, no doubt," he remarked confidently. "Father and son, Cole doesn't stand a chance."
This wasn't uncommon. Competitors from the same House, had sworn allegiance to the same lord, or even just came to an alliance before the melee would commonly do this. It was a bit uncouth for even a talented nobody like Cole but expected behaviour nonetheless.
But as the crowd watched, Daemon and Rhaegor exchanged a glance—one that was heavy lasted far longer than most would expect. For a brief moment, it seemed as though they might fight together, as Otto had suggested. But instead, it was Rhaegor who broke away from that silent accord, moving to face his father directly.
Rhaegor's sword clang'd against Dark Sister, landing against the flat of the legendary blade as the crowd gasped. Rhaenyra leaned forward, her eyes widening in surprise. Rather than joining forces against Cole, Rhaegor had chosen to fight his father, the Prince of the City, in front of the gathered court.
The two were at each other like animals, brutal swings and near deadly stabs, it was as if neither cared for the concept of being injured.
Otto's brows furrowed as he watched the scene unfold. "There must be rough feelings between them," he muttered to no one in particular, clearly puzzled by the unexpected turn. But it was obvious that the in-fighting pleased him, enough that Rhaenyra's father sent a him a unamused frown
The fight between father and son was fierce, their blades clashing with relentless force. It was like the young didn't care that his father had the superior blade, that Dark Sister would soon wreck his weapon if he continued to fight at this fiercity. Daemon's experience and ruthlessness were on full display, but Rhaegor's youthful vigor and speed matched him blow for blow. Each strike was met with a counter, each move calculated.
At one point, Daemon's helmet was knocked loose from his head by a swift blow from Rhaegor, sending it skidding across the field. Instead of anger, Daemon grinned—a wild, wolfish grin that told Rhaenyra everything she needed to know. He was enjoying this, relishing the challenge his son presented.
Daemon backhanded Rhaegor causing his helm to fling off, an action that the younger man hadn't expected. The melee was brutal, and many had died even in this one, but the Rhaegor had faced foes so far too proud to resort to such attacks.
One would expect frustration from him, especially as it was Rhaegor who started this fight, but instead the young boy grinned. An action that mirrored his father.
Rhaenyra couldn't help but notice just how much the two were enjoying themselves. It was like two bucks ramming their antlers together, testing which were stronger. Though, Rhaenyra wasn't sure those animals did it for the same reason father and son were now.
Criston Cole, meanwhile, attempted to capitalize on the father-son battle by launching his own attacks. But both Daemon and Rhaegor, though focused on each other, would deftly block or parry Cole's strikes without breaking from their duel, almost as if they had an unspoken agreement to handle their business first.
As the fight wore on, the toll of the day's battles began to show. Rhaegor, having already fought and defeated several opponents, was visibly tiring. But in a surprising move, he slammed his shield into Daemon's chest, sending his father stumbling backward. Daemon, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic tactic, fell to one knee.
Rhaenyra held her breath. Would Rhaegor press the advantage? But instead of finishing him, Rhaegor paused, and Daemon raised his hand in surrender, yielding the fight with that same satisfied grin on his face. It was clear to anyone watching that Daemon wasn't bothered by the loss—in fact, he seemed proud.
Now, only two combatants remained: Criston Cole and Rhaegor. The crowd grew tense as they squared off, and Rhaenyra leaned forward in anticipation.
But Rhaegor was clearly exhausted from his fight with Daemon, and it was obvious to anyone watching that he was at a disadvantage. Cole, still fresh from his earlier bouts, fought methodically, picking apart Rhaegor's defenses with calculated strikes. The younger fighter managed to hold his own for a while, his determination keeping him in the fight. But slowly, surely, Cole began to wear him down.
It had been to Cole's advantage that Rhaegor had allowed the older man to catch his breath. But despite being run down, Rhaegor was quick to compensate. Where before the young man relied on his quick feet to dodge, now he stood strong by tanking blows with his shield. The fight became a more dull affair mechanically but to Rhaenyra, it couldn't have been more gripping.
In the end,it hadn't been Cole's actions that cost the young bastard the match, it had been Rhaegor's earlier fight with his father. Clashing blades as fiercely as they did wasn't good to even finely crafted steel swords, but when the Valyrian steel of Dark Sister was being parried by a plain sword, that left a more severe cost on steel. A well placed strike from Cole snapped Rhaegor's blade, leaving him with nothing but a hilt and a stub in his hand. Rhaegor tried to slide his shield into place so he could bash Cole's arm away, but the older man snapped a kick into Rhaegor's arm before bashing him in the chest with his own.. Rhaegor, too tired to rise, yielded, leaving Criston Cole as the victor of the melee.
As the crowd erupted into cheers, Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for Rhaegor. He had fought valiantly, proving himself on the field. And though he hadn't won, he had earned the respect of those watching, including her.
The murmurs around Rhaenyra were audible now, and she overheard Rhaenys speaking to Corlys Velaryon.
"The boy would've won if he'd teamed up with Daemon," Rhaenys said with a knowing smile.
Corlys nodded, his voice low and approving. "Aye, but he's shown his character. He fights his own battles, even against his father. I can see why Daemon is so insistent to claim him fully."
Rhaenyra's eyes widen at that news. It wasn't unheard of a bastard being made legitimate, but uselessly that was when other resources were spent. She was aware that her Uncle was unhappy in his marriage, his words for the lady wife were not kind. But if he was to do this, it would mark on their House. A disrespect given to one of Vale's Eldest Houses.
She couldn't imagine her father going for it... but then Rhaenyra's eyes caught the pair of them, Daemon and Rhaegor, and couldn't help but notice the warmth. It would've been more in line with the rest of Westeros to have him warded by someone else, someone outside of the family but proven loyal to the crown. But it was hard to blame Daemon's actions, not when the sight of fatherly love was so clear to see.
Even losing out to Criston Cole, it seemed in the eyes of the crowd, the eyes of Daemon, and in her eyes, that Rhaegor was the true victor in this.
The Next Day
Alicent listened with half an ear as the conversation around her swirled, her focus drifting between the noise of the joust below and the murmured words between Rhaenyra, Rhaegor, and the others. The boy, seated between herself and Rhaenyra, was quiet as ever, though his face lit up slightly as Rhaenyra spoke to him.
As far as Alicent was aware, this would be the first time since the Melee the two would've had the time to speak to one another about matters.
"How did it feel?" Rhaenyra asked him, leaning in slightly, her voice teasing but warm. "Fighting in the melee, and facing my father first? Most would have teamed up to face Ser Criston Cole first."
Rhaegor shifted in his seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. "It was… difficult," he said quietly, his voice calm despite the topic. "But I wanted to face my father, to see how I fared, how much I'd improved since the last sparring session we'd had."
From behind them, Lord Corlys Velaryon chuckled, his deep voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. "If that was your intent, lad, you could have let Ser Criston and Daemon face each other first. Then you'd have had him alone, without risk. And he'd be the exhausted one."
Rhaegor met the Sea Snake's eyes for a moment, his expression thoughtful before he replied. "This way, I faced my father while we were as strong as we could be at the time. I didn't want to come to him after a fight with Cole, exhausted nor while he'd be tired from the same. Nor did I have a true grasp of Ser Cole's fighting prowess, there was no guarantee that I would've faced father." There was a quiet determination in his voice that made Alicent pause. For all his shyness, there was an undeniable resolve in him, a wish to prove himself not just as Daemon's son, but as his equal.
Rhaenyra, clearly amused by the exchange, smiled at him again, though Alicent caught the way her fingers lingered on his arm. It was not lost on her how her friend's attentions had shifted toward the boy, the way she treated him with an easy familiarity. "Flirtation," Alicent thought, though perhaps Rhaenyra didn't quite realize it herself. Or perhaps she did.
It wasn't odd for the Targaryen family to marry within themselves, they referred to it as keeping the bloodline pure. And Alicent was sure that keeping dragon riders to as few families as possible factored into it. Alicent wasn't too disgusted with the action herself, many more religious-leaning people would've been, but it obviously hadn't led the Royal House astray so far.
But it was amusing to her that Rhaegor and Rhaenyra were a bit... further apart than the family was famous for.
Rhaenys, seated near her husband, turned her sharp gaze toward Rhaenyra, her curiosity piqued by another topic entirely. "So I've heard that Syrax has taken a liking to this one?" She raised a brow, her tone slightly incredulous.
Rhaenyra's eyes twinkled with amusement as she answered, "It's true. Syrax acted as if she was… mothering him. She even offered him meat, as if he were her hatchling."
Rhaenys's expression shifted slightly, a mix of surprise and something like awe. "I've never heard of a dragon doing such a thing, not even its rider." She glanced briefly at Rhaegor, as if trying to reconcile this new information with the boy she saw before her. "You've got a unique gift if this holds true for other dragons. Perhaps I should have you meet Meleys?"
Alicent, for her part, had been listening quietly. The mention of Syrax's strange behavior with Rhaegor made her uneasy, yet she couldn't help but find the thought oddly endearing. The idea of a fearsome dragon behaving like a mother toward this shy boy was almost sweet, though Alicent had never thought of dragons in such terms before. But as she turned slightly, pretending to adjust her seat, she caught sight of her father, Otto Hightower, standing at the edge of the royal box, his face set in a frown. He was displeased, that much was clear. The attention the boy was getting, especially from Rhaenyra, was not lost on Otto, and Alicent could sense his growing disapproval.
Her father hadn't liked Daemon's bastard being hoisted up with the rest of them, and had spoken against King Viserys over the issue. But the King was the King, his desires were the top priority of the Kingdom. Rhaegor sat here with them because it was his place.
There was still no word about whether or not King Viserys would legitimize Rhaegor, but her father was sure his opinion was turning to indulge Daemon over common sense. This only made the Royal blood in the aisle treating him so genially more frustrating to her father.
Corlys Velaryon was the Master of Ships and held sway with the King more than most. But also his wife was Rhaenys, cousin to Viserys as well, someone that while never influenced major realm events was more than capable of leveraging so. If these two together supported Rhaegor Waters becoming Rhaegor Targeryan, it would likely convince King Viserys even past Otto Hightower's concerns.
It wasn't just Otto who had taken an interest. Corlys's children, Laena and Laenor Velaryon, were seated nearby, their curious gazes flicking toward Rhaegor. Laenor, looking for a way into the conversation, asked, "What was it like? Fighting in the melee, I mean. It won't be long till I join it, and training only prepares one so much for it."
Rhaegor answered politely, though his voice was softer now. "It was… an honor to fight. Though, as brutal as father had warned me. I've trained for it, but it's different in front of so many. The most I had fought in front of before were a scant dozen, the hundreds of eyes have a rather menacing effect on one's nerves," There was a slight smile on his face that was accompanied by a chuckle, but Alicent noticed the way his eyes held a certain sadness, as if despite the praise and attention, something weighed on him.
Laena leaned forward, her braids falling over her shoulder as she asked, "And how did it feel, fighting your father? Daemon Targaryen is a legend on the field."
Rhaegor glanced down, his gaze fixed on his hands. "It was…tough. There's a reason I left it so long in the Melee to face him. Even as just a competition, I couldn't bring myself to just attack him. I guess fighting one's father doesn't come naturally to anyone."
His light chuckle caught Corlys and his children doing much the same though Rhaenys and Rhaenyras merely weren't sure what to make of that answer because it was such an earnest answer. It shouldn't come easy to fight one's father. She may have disagreed with hers at times, but she Alicent could never imagine raising a weapon against Otto Hightower even in a conceptual setting like a spar. Before now, she'd put that down to her being a woman though but if Rhaegor Waters was to be believed it would be hard even on a son. She couldn't imagine an argument against it.
Though Alicent knew if one were to ask Otto Hightower, Rhaegor had the advantage when it came to wanting to strike his father, as Daemon Targaryen was vile enough to deserve it.
The conversation came to a natural lull as the herald's voice rang out over the arena, announcing the final match. "Ser Criston Cole of the Stormlands, versus "Prince Daemon Targaryen of House Targaryen."
Tension filled the air as the crowd roared in anticipation, and Alicent watched as Rhaegor sat up straighter in his seat. All eyes were on the field as the two men prepared for their fight, each donned in armor that gleamed under the afternoon sun. Alicent tried to focus on the match, but her thoughts kept returning to the melee from the previous day. Daemon's loss to his son had been hard-fought, but he had yielded with grace, even if begrudgingly. Today, though, as the final clash unfolded between Daemon and Criston Cole, it was clear that Daemon was not so gracious in defeat. He was just as much a sore loser as ever, Alicent thought, watching as Daemon's temper flared at the loss. Yet the comparison to how he treated his own son lingered in her mind, Daemon had seemed almost satisfied to lose to Rhaegor, but here, against Criston, his pride was stung deeply.
Rhaegor, seated beside her, remained still. For all the attention on him, he seemed unaffected, lost in thought as Daemon stormed off the field.
Author's Note: There are changes to canon events, but as much as some elements change, some parts remain the same. It is just the nature of the characters here.
Some people wonder what Daemon's plans here are, and I'll say it will be obvious to people that think about the supposed values Daemon holds. And work from there.
Otherwise, it will also be clear before too long.