Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls or A Song of Ice and Fire. All rights belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 23
Dorne 297 AC
The wind blew, kicking up dust in the jousting arena, a place still being prepared for what was to come. In the middle of the arena stood Jon, looking ahead. His next opponent was about to enter at any moment... at least, the first of them. All the remaining knights who could still compete had decided to challenge him. Now he would have to face at least thirty knights, all eager to discover his identity and win the princess's favor.
While anyone else might have felt overwhelmed by being the target of so many opponents, Jon felt excited. This was a unique opportunity: he could become one of the few knights to reveal his identity at the end of a tournament.
'This will be very fun...' Jon thought with a smile hidden under his helmet, momentarily forgetting that he needed to stay alert for any mention of the gathering of so many Dornish. He snapped back to reality when he saw his first opponent.
'... Are you serious?!' he screamed in his mind upon recognizing the approaching man. He was someone in his twenties, with skin bronzed by the Dornish sun, an attractive face, and a dangerous aura that gave Jon a bad feeling. He was clean-shaven, with silver hair divided by a black streak. His nose was aquiline, his cheekbones high, and his jawline sharp. His dark eyes, similar to Jon's but without the unnatural gleam that characterized the son of Ashara Dayne, watched him intently.
'You have to be kidding me. Of all the possible opponents, I never expected to face a relative so soon.' Jon thought, noticing the Dayne heraldry on his opponent's shield.
Shifting his gaze from the shield, Jon studied his opponent's armor: an ornate black plate armor with purple details. While examining the points where he could strike to minimize damage, the herald began to speak, announcing the knight would face Jon in this round.
"Presenting the Knight of High Hermitage! Ser Gerold Dayne!" proclaimed the herald, capturing the audience's attention. He then moved towards Jon, continuing his announcement. "The Knight of High Hermitage has been the first to formally request the right to challenge the Knight of Dawnstar!"
The crowd murmured in intrigue, commenting on the stars in both knights' heraldry and wondering if they were related.
Jon looked at his opponent and sighed internally. His relative's formal challenge complicated things.
'If I remember correctly, in a formal joust, all traditional rules apply, something that wasn't happening in this tournament.' he thought, recalling that the Prince of Dorne had promised that losers wouldn't lose their belongings, which encouraged many hedge knights to participate. But in a formal duel, the loser had to lose his horse and armor to the winner, something ruinous for a hedge knight. For Jon, however, it only stood for a minimal economic loss.
The herald gave the signal to start. Jon and Gerold spurred their horses gently, approaching the center of the track before the first pass.
"Umm... that armor of yours isn't much, but it will still serve to boast that I defeated you in the first pass." said Gerold as he passed by Jon, who remained impassive. "I hope you're at least strong enough to entertain me and my sweet princess for a while. It will be a good topic of conversation while I go back to bedding her."
Gerold's words made it clear that, besides being arrogant, he was dangerous. Jon decided to play along.
"Maybe, but I don't think a stupid armor like yours, too ornate for something only used in battle, would be useful to me." he replied without looking at him. "Though I wonder who gave you such a ridiculous nickname as «Darkstar», after all, dark stars are already dead."
The provocation had its effect. Gerold's body tensed, and his brow furrowed, accompanied by a scowl of anger.
"Nice words. I hope you can back them up." Gerold responded through gritted teeth. Before moving out of Jon's hearing range, he added with a tone laden with threat. "I hope you're careful. Many break their necks when they fall from their horse."
Jon smiled under his helmet at the threat, finding it ironically amusing. He shook his head, looked up at the sky, and exhaled slowly before looking ahead. Tightening the reins, he gently nudged his horse's ribs, which reared up before galloping towards the opposite end of the track.
Gerold did the same, though without rearing his horse. Both advanced at full speed, kicking up dust behind them. Their lances, previously vertical, were now couched as they rapidly approached, ready to strike the other's armor.
While everything seemed normal to the audience, for Jon, the situation was very different. As he galloped at full speed towards his opponent, he felt his senses sharpen, allowing him a quicker feeling than any mortal could dream of. It was something akin to the infamous "Hyperreflexes" ability his master had. Although the sensation was similar to what his master had described, Jon knew this version was much more limited, something expected since he wasn't a descendant of the legendary Dovahkiin of Skyrim. However, that didn't matter to him at this moment, as his attention was entirely focused on his enemy, who now seemed to move slowly thanks to his accelerated reflexes.
Jon's gaze became analytical, carefully observing Gerold Dayne's movements and searching for the ideal spot to strike and unhorse him with a single blow. When he finally found the exact point, he subtly moved his hand, adjusting the lance's position slightly to the left. With his weapon ready, he spurred his horse to accelerate even more, closing the distance with a speed that would have surprised even the most attentive observers.
Both knights met in the center of the track, and their lances moved with precision towards their targets. Gerold's lance aimed directly at Jon's chest, with a clear intention to strike there. Although a plate armor would have withstood the blow, Jon's chainmail didn't offer the same protection. If the attack hit, the result would have been disastrous for the young knight.
However, Jon was far from an ordinary person. At the last moment, seeing the blunt tip approaching, he raised his shield with surgical precision, deflecting Gerold's lance upwards. The tip passed cleanly over his shoulder, leaving Jon unscathed.
Unfortunately for Gerold, he wasn't as lucky. Jon's lance struck his right shoulder squarely, at a strategic point that unhorsed him instantly. But he didn't just fall to the ground; the impact made him spin three times in the air before crashing into the sand.
Surprise was written on the faces of Princess Arianne Martell and her cousins, and her father and uncle were no exception. They all looked astonished at what they had just seen.
"W-w-what just happened?" asked Arianne, her eyes fixed on the fallen figure of the infamous knight of High Hermitage.
"He unhorsed Ser Gerold Dayne with a single blow..." responded Obara, still incredulous at what she had just seen. The idea that someone like Darkstar could be defeated so quickly seemed impossible.
"I-incredible..." murmured Sarella, who was seeing the mysterious knight with an analytical gaze. "The way he struck was..."
"Unorthodox." interrupted Prince Oberyn, flashing a wide and amused smile. The spectacle was highly entertaining to him. "But brilliant."
"How so, uncle?" asked Trystane, Arianne's younger brother. At barely ten years old, young Trystane was the youngest of Doran Martell's children. His olive skin and straight black hair shone under the sunlight, while his yellow doublet, adorned with bronze suns, glimmered intermittently.
The Red Viper looked at him with a kinder smile before responding. "You see, Trystane. That knight used an uncommon technique: he charged with his lance couched almost from the start of his run. That's complicated because it requires a lot of arm strength and exceptional balance to prevent the lance's weight from tipping the rider forward. But if you master it, you gain a great advantage, as the impact force is much greater than the opponent's."
"Does that mean... he's strong?"
"Yes. He might be stronger than most knights I know... except one." replied Oberyn, adopting a somber tone at the end. Arianne at once recognized that change in her uncle's voice; she knew exactly to whom those last words referred.
Prince Doran saw the mysterious knight in the jousting field again, this time with analytical eyes. If his brother was right, that young man was not only strong but also surprisingly skilled, to the point of surpassing one of the best knights in Dorne.
'This wasn't in my plans.' thought Doran, closing his eyes for a moment when he felt a pang of pain in his inflamed joints, punished by gout. 'I want this to end soon so I can return to the Water Gardens. That place is the best refuge for my illness, at least until the time to act comes.'
However, his thoughts were interrupted by a furious shout that echoed throughout the arena. The voice belonged to Gerold Dayne. Opening his eyes with some difficulty, Doran turned to his relatives to ask what was happening.
"Darkstar has gotten up and asked his squire for his sword." informed Arianne, with a mix of surprise and excitement. She watched as the man she considered the most handsome in Dorne advanced towards the mysterious knight.
"It seems Darkstar is a sore loser..." commented Tyene, seeing how Gerold, sword in hand, launched a direct slash at the mysterious knight, forcibly unhorsing him.
Daenerys and Sam watched as Jon's opponent launched desperate slashes and thrusts, trying to kill him after forcing him to dismount. The young princess couldn't help but worry about her friend, fearing he might get hurt, while Sam shared that concern, though for different reasons: he feared Jon might not restrain his strength enough and end up killing the knight of House Dayne, which would make him a kinslayer.
"Do you think Jon will be okay?" asked Daenerys, almost on the verge of shouting his name when she saw Gerold Dayne dangerously close to her friend. Luckily, Sam reacted in time and covered her mouth to prevent her from revealing Jon's true identity.
"Yes, he'll be fine, but I'm more worried about Ser Dayne. We don't know what will happen if Jon accidentally kills him."
Sam's words increased Daenerys's anxiety, and she could only watch the fight in silence, trusting in Jon's skills, which had always been praised by his companions. She hoped those skills would be enough to allow him to come out unscathed, even fighting unarmed against an armed knight.
Fortunately, luck seemed to be on their side. Jon skillfully dodged each of Darkstar's attacks, moving with such agility that he almost seemed to enjoy it. This confused Daenerys, who couldn't understand how Jon could find enjoyment in such a dangerous situation.
Just like their friends, Edd, Grenn, and Pyp were also closely following the scene that Gerold Dayne had provoked by attacking Jon unexpectedly.
"That idiot..." growled Grenn, clenching his fist.
"Control yourself, Grenn." said Edd, keeping his eyes fixed on his friend, who continued to dodge the attacks with clear ease.
"Edd is right, Grenn. We need to stay calm and let Jon manage it. If we intervene, this could escalate, and other knights might join the conflict." commented Pyp, though his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready for any eventuality.
"I know, but..." Grenn grumbled, struggling to have Ghost. The young direwolf wanted to leap out of the bag he was being carried in and attack the knight who dared to assault his companion. However, Ghost was reduced to his puppy form, and even if he managed to break free, he wouldn't be able to do much unless Jon restored his normal size, something he would undoubtedly avoid to not attract the attention of the septons or the townsfolk.
"Calm down, Ghost. He'll be fine." said Pyp in a calm voice, trying to soothe the restless wolf.
It seemed luck was on their side, as Ghost stopped struggling, focusing his gaze on the arena, where Jon continued to dodge every blow.
"Well, it looks like Ghost has calmed down." commented Pyp.
"Yes, now we just need Jon to finish his business." added Grenn, watching as Jon continued to evade Darkstar's attacks. "It looks like it's about to end."
"Jon will resolve it soon." affirmed Edd.
"Stay still, you idiot!" roared Gerold as he launched furious slashes with his sword, consumed by a rage that clouded his judgment. The shame of being unhorsed so easily in the first pass by someone he considered inferior was eating him up.
Darkstar's sword moved swiftly, marking the first time Jon faced someone with such a level of skill.
'He's by far the best swordsman I've faced so far.' Jon thought, leaping back to avoid a slash aimed at opening his abdomen. 'Though he's good, I'm afraid he's not at the level to defeat me. Now, if he had the power of that man I killed in the Summer Isles, he would be a real challenge. I'm sure I would need to use several spells to defeat him.'
Darkstar attacked with a horizontal slash towards Jon's neck, putting all his effort into the blow with the intention of decapitating him. Jon's eyes calmly followed the trajectory of the sword, watching it approach. However, just as the blade was about to reach him, he stepped back, dodging it precisely.
Taking advantage of the imbalance in Gerold's extended arm, Jon moved quickly, grabbing the knight's forearm and arm to immobilize him.
"Let go of me!" shouted Gerold, struggling unsuccessfully. Desperate, he tried to punch Jon with his free hand, but Jon released the immobilized arm and, with a swift movement, kicked the leg supporting Gerold's weight, making him fall heavily to the ground.
The clinking of armor hitting the ground echoed in the arena.
"I told you, didn't I? Dark stars are the ones that don't shine and never will." Jon mocked. However, he had to quickly turn his head when Gerold threw sand at his face, trying to blind him.
"Idiot. Did you think one blow would be enough to defeat me? I am the best sword in Dorne, and now my sword will–!"
Gerold's words died in his throat when Jon, expecting his attack, punched him in the chest. The force of the blow slightly dented the armor and left Darkstar gasping.
"And you're an idiot if you think I didn't foresee you doing something as dishonorable as throwing sand at me." Jon said coldly. He had had enough. Without giving Gerold a chance to recover, Jon charged again.
Still dazed, Gerold raised his sword with a furious growl, shouting. "Die, you bastard!"
The knight of High Hermitage launched a horizontal slash with all his strength, but Jon caught his left arm, twisting it in such a way that forced him to drop the sword.
Before Gerold could react, Jon spun around and kicked him with a spinning kick to the helmet, sending him flying two meters to the side. Gerold fell heavily, his helmet rolling away from his head.
The crowd, which had initially cheered excitedly at seeing Gerold "fight" Jon, now fell into a deathly silence. No one knew exactly what had just happened.
Before Jon could say a word, the sound of hurried footsteps and the clinking of steel broke the silence. Intrigued, Jon looked towards the source of the noise and, to his surprise, saw six guards dressed in the colors of House Martell approaching and surrounding him, pointing their spears at him.
Jon's eyes focused on the sharp metal tips, quickly analyzing his enemies' stances and the reach of their weapons. After completing his assessment, he considered two options: use a spell to disarm them at once or take advantage of Gerold's sword, lying just a few steps away, to defeat them in a few moves.
"I wouldn't recommend doing that, boy." said a deep voice as someone approached.
The voice had a peculiar accent that Jon couldn't immediately identify. Turning his head to see the owner of those words, he found an older man with broad shoulders and an imposing presence. The man wore a half-iron helmet wrapped in orange silks. Although much of his hair was covered, the white strands that stuck out showed his age. He wore a copper scale shirt and a cloak in brown and yellow tones, likely designed to protect him from the scorching Dornish sun.
"And why is that?" Jon asked, not losing his composure.
"Because you would be defying Prince Doran's orders." the man replied without hesitation.
If Jon's face hadn't been hidden behind his mask, the old warrior would have seen the smile that formed on his lips.
"Umm... tell me something, good man." Jon said, modulating his tone to avoid misunderstandings. Meanwhile, his eyes fixed on the axe the man carried, an imposing weapon with a shaft that seemed to measure almost six feet. Its design made it clear that only someone with great skill could manage it properly. "What makes you think I care in the slightest about what the Prince of Dorne wants?"
Jon's comment left everyone stunned, both nobles and commoners, who couldn't believe the young knight's lack of respect.
"It may not matter to you what the prince wants, but while you're in his domain, you must abide by his decrees."
"Heh, heh, heh..." Jon let out a light laugh, as if the response was exactly what he expected. Looking up at the sky, he exhaled a sigh before returning his attention to the warrior. He decided not to prolong the conversation. "Ahhh... Very well, let's end this. Tell me, why are those guards pointing at me as if they want to kill me?"
"You have violated one of the rules Prince Doran imposed for this tournament."
Jon raised an eyebrow, visibly confused. As far as he knew, he hadn't broken any rules. He decided to ask:
"What rule, exactly?"
"The prince made it clear that killing opponents in the jousts was prohibited."
The surprise made Jon open his eyes slightly. He at once understood that they were accusing him of having killed Gerold. Realizing this, he couldn't help but laugh.
"Ha, ha, ha!" His laughter echoed in the arena, bewildering everyone present, who began to suspect he might have lost his mind. "I can't believe they think I've killed him."
Confusion spread among the crowd. No one understood why Jon was denying something that seemed so clear.
"It's impossible that the knight of High Hermitage survived after receiving such a blow to the head." the man pointed out, making a reasonable assertion. Many knights had died from similar impacts.
While Jon's kicks could be considered blunt weapons, the young bastard knew he had restrained himself enough not to kill Gerold. For Jon, there was no worse disgrace than becoming a "kinslayer."
When he finished laughing, Jon clarified that he hadn't killed Gerold but had simply knocked him unconscious. Although the man initially doubted, he sent someone to check the knight's condition. Minutes later, they confirmed that Gerold was alive, though unconscious, and servants quickly took him to the maester for treatment.
Once the knight of High Hermitage was removed from the arena, Jon walked towards his horse, ready to wait for his next opponent. However, before he could take the reins, the man in the brown cloak interrupted him again.
"What is it now, good man? Are you going to accuse me of murder again?"
The question, laden with sarcasm, made some in the crowd stifle nervous laughs. However, the man showed no reaction.
"No, I only come to convey Prince Doran's apologies." he responded calmly.
Jon listened to his words and, with a barely visible smile under his mask, replied while mounting his horse:
"Tell your prince that I accept his apologies, but if he wants me to leave the tournament, he should prove it as his daughter has, not with stratagems. The easiest way would be to paint a target on my back and offer a reward to whoever unhorses me."
With those words, Jon nodded slightly to the man and began to ride towards the place where he was to wait for his next opponent.
While Jon awaited his next opponent, Prince Doran awaited the arrival of his loyal servant. He didn't have to wait long, as the servant arrived quickly.
"My prince, I delivered your message."
"I see. And how did he take it, Areo?" asked Doran.
"He said that if you want to eliminate him from the tournament, you should promise rewards to those who challenge and try to unhorse him, not use stratagems like the previous one." replied Areo.
The Prince of Dorne observed the man who had arrived with his wife several years ago. Areo Hotah, a Norvoshi, had lived in the free city of Norvos until he accompanied Mellario, who became the Princess Consort of Dorne. Trained by the bearded priests, Areo was one of the most lethal warriors under his command. Doran sighed, recognizing that his last maneuver had been too obvious. However, he had learned something important: that hedge knight was dangerous.
"Areo, have your best guards follow him tonight. I want to know where he sleeps, who he meets with, and what he does after the tournament." ordered Doran.
Areo nodded and left.
Once the Norvoshi was gone, Prince Oberyn spoke, a playful smile on his face.
"It seems that boy is smarter than you thought."
"Yes, I thought that being a hedge knight, he would lack the skill to manage the situation with Darkstar. I was wrong." admitted Doran seriously.
"Well, if you want to get rid of him, you could orchestrate a trial by combat." suggested Oberyn while taking a sip of Dornish red wine from the small table beside him.
Oberyn's proposal made Doran reflect for a moment. Although it seemed like a good idea, it was also dangerous. Trials by combat were single duels where fate was left in the hands of the gods.
"It's a good plan, but it has a problem." said Doran.
"What?" asked Oberyn, setting down his wine cup.
"Who would be his opponent?" replied Doran, causing his brother to frown slightly. "He has already defeated one of the best swords in Dorne, and he did it unarmed. Who knows how good he is with a sword?"
"Don't worry about that, brother." said Oberyn, drawing his attention. "He may have defeated one of the best swords, but he hasn't faced the best spear."
Doran looked at him, understanding that his brother wanted to be the contender if that scenario arose. Although he had his doubts, he knew Oberyn wouldn't change his mind.
"Do you think you can beat him?"
"Heh, it hurts that you doubt my abilities." replied Oberyn with feigned indignation before getting serious. "Honestly, I don't know. I haven't seen him fight with a weapon, but it's clear he's skilled. How skilled... I can only guess. But it doesn't have to be a duel to the death. It's enough for him to surrender. And with a simple cut, it will all be over."
Doran sighed, understanding that his brother planned to use one of his famous poisons.
"Alright... if that scenario occurs, he's all yours."
"Perfect." said Oberyn with a smile. Then, he looked ahead, where another knight was challenging the mysterious stranger. Amused, he decided to enjoy the spectacle. No one seemed capable of unhorsing him today.
Jon rode calmly through the streets of the city near Sunspear. His horse's steps were slow, as he was in no hurry to return to the «StarWolf». There was a reason: he was being followed.
'They're good, I have to admit. If I were a normal person, they could follow me easily. Unfortunately for them, my senses are enhanced. Now... how do I escape? By galloping away? Hiding in the shadows? No... If I do that, I'll look suspicious, and I'm sure that's what they're looking for: something to blame me for to get me out of the tournament. But... why so much interest in eliminating me? Are they hiding something? I don't think so. I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary, except for the participation of some Marchers. This makes less sense the more I think about it. What do they gain by getting me out of the competition? Maybe there is a conspiracy... but I won't worry about that now. The important thing is to evade them.'
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw an archway leading to two completely dark side streets. An idea began to form in his mind. Taking the reins of his horse, he headed towards that place.
Passing under the arch, he abruptly pulled the reins and guided the horse into one of the dark alleys. Once there, he quickly dismounted and cast the same spell he used on Ghost to shrink him. With the horse in his arms, he made a great leap that took him to the rooftop of an adobe house. Hidden in the shadows, he watched as his pursuers arrived at the alley and gathered.
"Did you find him?" one asked.
"No, he's completely disappeared." another replied.
"That's impossible. No one can disappear that quickly."
"No... there are people who can do it." said one in a tone that made his companions shudder.
"You don't think...?"
"It's possible."
"Well, it doesn't matter. We must return and tell Prince Doran that we lost him."
Jon watched them leave but remained still for a while. When he was sure they had gone, he descended into the alley and exited through the opposite end. Back on the streets, he entered another alley and, upon exiting, was already mounted on his horse again. He looked in the direction of the Martell palace, sighed, and rode towards his ship. He wished the tournament would end soon so he could resume his search for the infamous seal stones.
Author's Note:
To those who have made it this far, thank you for reading. To be honest, my English writing skills are not strong, and I'm relying on Google Translate and the dictionaries that come with Office 2019.
And here is chapter 23!
Well, let's leave that aside. It seems that Jon easily managed to knock down his relative, which made him angry, ending with a match that Jon won effortlessly. It should be noted that Jon won this so easily because, as he mentions, he is not a normal person.
It also shows that Doran considers Jon dangerous, and he is, but not to the extent that the prince of Dorne thinks.
I apologize for any spelling errors. Please don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter, or if there's something that needs improvement, or if you have any questions about the story. Any constructive advice is welcome. With nothing more to say, see you in the next chapter.