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56% AGOT: The Dragon Seed / Chapter 14: We Light the Way

Capítulo 14: We Light the Way

The wind howled as Caraxes soared through the sky, its massive wings cutting through the clouds. Daemon sat effortlessly on the dragon's back, his posture relaxed as he glanced behind him at Annatar. The latter was gripping the saddle tightly, though his face was set in a focused expression.

Daemon (grinning):

"Relax. Caraxes knows what he's doing. He's not as reckless as I am."

Annatar (smiling despite himself):

"I'll take your word for it."

There was a moment of silence between them, with nothing but the rush of wind filling the air. Daemon glanced sideways at Annatar, his sharp eyes assessing the man next to him. Annatar wasn't the type to be easily intimidated, but even Daemon couldn't help but notice the difference in how Annatar carried himself compared to others.

Daemon (with a grin):

"Don't tell me you're afraid of dragons?"

Annatar (chuckling):

"No, but I'd rather not fall off one."

Daemon's laughter was deep and resonant, as he patted Caraxes's neck affectionately.

Daemon:

"Fair enough. Hold on tight, we're almost there."

The two men were silent for a while as Caraxes cut through the sky, the landscape of Westeros unfolding beneath them. The journey was one of quiet reflection for both of them. Annatar glanced out at the horizon, wondering what awaited them at King's Landing. He had never been particularly fond of courts, but there was something intriguing about the political game Daemon seemed so deeply entrenched in.

The grand hall was alive with noise as the nobles of King's Landing gathered to celebrate the engagement of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen to Ser Laenor Velaryon. Daemon and Annatar entered together, their presence commanding attention as they made their way through the room. Daemon's usual air of confidence was unshaken, while Annatar remained observant, taking in the tension in the air.

As the feast continued, Rhaenyra stood at her father's side, her posture regal yet her expression hinting at the complexities of the situation she found herself in. She had been betrothed to Laenor, but their relationship had always been more of a political alliance than one of affection. Her gaze lingered on Daemon for a moment before moving away, though the unspoken connection between them was apparent.

Annatar's eyes followed the dynamic, noting the quiet power plays at work. The room was full of whispered secrets, exchanged glances, and veiled threats. And then there was the sudden arrival of Queen Alicent, whose green gown marked her family's call to arms. The tension in the room was palpable, and it was clear that her entrance wasn't merely symbolic—it was a declaration.

Annatar (leaning toward Daemon, whispering):

"She's never been one to mince words, has she?"

Daemon (with a smirk):

"No. Alicent Hightower knows exactly what she's doing."

The music stopped for a moment as Queen Alicent's presence caused ripples through the crowd. As the queen took her seat, her eyes never left Rhaenyra, and the subtle challenge between the two women did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room.

Daemon (smirking as he scanned the room):

"I'll give her this—she knows how to make an entrance. But we both know she's more about appearances than anything else."

Annatar (raising an eyebrow):

"Doesn't everyone here play the same game?"

Daemon (shrugging):

"True. But not everyone plays it well."

The feast carried on, but the mood shifted as Daemon began to make his presence known. He was no longer just the brother of the king—he was a force in his own right. He moved through the hall with ease, exchanging pleasantries with various courtiers but never staying in one place for too long. Annatar, though more reserved, followed in his wake, watching the subtle interactions between the Targaryen family and their allies.

Eventually, Daemon's attention turned to Rhaenyra, who stood with Laenor. He approached them, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. Rhaenyra met his gaze, an unreadable expression on her face.

Daemon (grinning):

"Still playing the part, Rhaenyra? Don't tell me you've already settled for Laenor."

Rhaenyra (with a smirk):

"You're one to talk. If you want the throne, Daemon, perhaps you should marry me."

The tension between them was electric, but Daemon only laughed, brushing it off as if it was a game. Still, Annatar could sense the deeper layers of their relationship—there was history between them, and perhaps even unspoken desires that neither of them fully acknowledged.

Meanwhile, across the room, Ser Criston Cole had been watching Rhaenyra and Daemon with increasing discomfort. He had long harbored feelings for the princess, and it was clear that her interactions with Daemon only intensified his internal struggle. Annatar, noticing Criston's growing distress, turned to Daemon.

Annatar (softly):

"It looks like your Kingsguard is having a bit of trouble with the situation."

Daemon (with a smirk):

"Let him stew in his own thoughts. But you're right—he's not the only one wrestling with his emotions tonight."

As the night wore on, the feast took a darker turn. Laenor's lover, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, had made his move to confront Ser Criston Cole, attempting to blackmail him into keeping his secret. But Criston, feeling cornered, snapped, beating Joffrey to death in front of the entire hall. The gruesome scene shocked everyone, bringing the feast to a disastrous halt.

Annatar's gaze was steady as he watched the violence unfold. He had seen death before, but the public nature of this was something else entirely. Daemon, too, appeared unfazed, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes at the chaos around him.

Daemon (whispering to Annatar):

"A sad end for Ser Joffrey. But perhaps it's fitting for this family—destruction is in their blood."

Annatar (nodding, his voice low):

"No one here knows how to play their part without consequences."

[Scene: The Private Ceremony – Rhaenyra and Laenor's Hasty Marriage]

Later that night, in the quiet of the Red Keep, Rhaenyra and Laenor were wed in a private ceremony. The marriage, while necessary to maintain the appearance of duty, lacked any semblance of love. Daemon stood nearby, watching the proceedings with his usual detached amusement.

Annatar, ever the observer, took in the scene as well, his thoughts heavy with the realization that this was just another step in a long game of power and manipulation. When the ceremony was over, Viserys collapsed from the strain, and the court was left to deal with the aftermath.

Daemon (to Annatar, as they both turned to leave):

"Let's hope the next time we're in this hall, it's for a different reason."

Annatar (looking at the throne, then back at Daemon):

"If it were up to me, Daemon, I'd never return to this place. But it seems we're both bound to it."


Capítulo 15: The Melee

Driftmark buzzed with anticipation as the tourney approached. Annatar had spent the last three years training under Lord Corlys Velaryon, forging himself anew in the absence of Daemon. Daemon's sudden departure to Pentos with Laena Velaryon had left Annatar with a gaping hole—a sense of abandonment that had weighed on him like a heavy chain. But, under the Sea Snake's watchful eye, he had grown sharper, stronger, and far more resilient. If Daemon had taught him the heat of battle, Corlys taught him its discipline and wisdom, shaping him into a formidable young warrior.

Now sixteen and determined to prove himself, Annatar prepared to enter the upcoming tournament as a mystery knight, concealing his identity behind a polished helm gifted by Corlys. The tourney would be his proving ground, his chance to claim his own place in the world—beyond being Daemon's protégé.

As Annatar stood before Corlys, the lord studied him with a discerning eye. He could see the fire in the boy's gaze, the hard edges that time and hardship had carved into him.

Corlys:

"You've come far since those days on the Stepstones, lad. Are you certain about fighting as a mystery knight? This is your chance to make a name for yourself."

Annatar nodded, his expression unwavering.

Annatar:

"Yes, Lord Corlys. I want to prove that I'm worthy, not because of anyone else, but on my own."

Corlys allowed a small smile to touch his lips, a rare expression from the usually reserved Sea Snake.

Corlys:

"Then fight with honor, Annatar. A knight's worth is not in his name but in his deeds. Driftmark will watch with pride."

With that, Corlys placed a hand on Annatar's shoulder and handed him a helm—a beautifully crafted piece with intricate designs, one he himself had worn as a younger man.

Corlys:

"Wear this as a reminder that you are not alone. Whatever happens, know that you have a place here, and you have earned your place by your own merit."

Annatar accepted the helm with a bow, humbled by the weight of Corlys's words. He would carry those words with him into the tourney field.

Driftmark's tourney grounds buzzed with excitement, the salt-tinged air alive with the sounds of clinking armor and cheering spectators. Noble families and smallfolk alike had gathered from across the realm, eager to witness the spectacle of knights from all corners of Westeros competing. Among them was the mystery knight, his polished helm glinting under the sun, concealing his identity but drawing curious glances. Annatar took a deep breath, steeling himself as his name was called for the first match.

[First Match: Annatar vs. Ser Meryn Waters]

Ser Meryn Waters—a broad-shouldered knight known for his tenacity in close combat—stared at his opponent with a smug smile, clearly unthreatened by the slender mystery knight before him. Annatar adjusted his grip on his sword, feeling its familiar weight in his hands.

The signal was given, and Ser Meryn charged forward, his shield raised high. Annatar stayed light on his feet, circling around, waiting for the right moment. As Ser Meryn swung his sword in a powerful overhead slash, Annatar sidestepped, his reflexes quick and precise. He responded with a swift counterattack, aiming low to throw his opponent off balance.

Ser Meryn stumbled but quickly regained his footing, launching a flurry of strikes. Annatar deflected each one, the clash of steel ringing through the air as he moved with surprising grace. His smaller frame allowed him to evade Meryn's slower, brute-force attacks. With a sharp parry, Annatar found his opening, striking Ser Meryn's shield with enough force to make his opponent stagger. Without wasting a second, Annatar brought his blade up, catching the hilt of Ser Meryn's sword, and with a deft twist, disarmed him.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Ser Meryn's sword clattered to the ground, leaving the knight stunned and defeated. Annatar took a step back, lowering his sword respectfully as he inclined his head to his fallen opponent, the victory already marking him as one to watch.

[Second Match: Annatar vs. Ser Barric Storme]

As Annatar advanced to the next round, he found himself up against Ser Barric Storme, a grizzled veteran with years of battlefield experience. Ser Barric's reputation was as a relentless, no-nonsense fighter, and Annatar knew this match would test his endurance as much as his skill.

The match began with Ser Barric charging in, aiming to overpower Annatar with sheer aggression. Their swords clashed in a brutal series of strikes, each hit sending vibrations up Annatar's arm. He matched Ser Barric's pace, his footwork allowing him to evade the older knight's crushing blows, but the intensity was exhausting. As he blocked a particularly heavy swing, Annatar was forced to retreat a few paces, his breathing heavier.

Ser Barric didn't let up, pressing forward with relentless energy. Recognizing that he couldn't match his opponent in raw strength, Annatar shifted tactics. He began to parry each blow with careful precision, redirecting Ser Barric's attacks to the side rather than meeting them head-on. With each deflection, he forced his opponent to adjust his footing, gradually disrupting the rhythm of his assault.

Seeing an opening, Annatar lunged forward, aiming a quick jab at Ser Barric's exposed side. The older knight deflected it just in time, but the move had left him slightly off-balance. Annatar capitalized, slipping past his defenses with a nimble sidestep and striking Barric's sword arm with the flat of his blade. Ser Barric stumbled back, clutching his arm, the pain and exhaustion evident on his face.

With a final, powerful thrust, Annatar disarmed him, sending Ser Barric's sword spinning from his grip. The older knight raised his hands in surrender, and the crowd roared with approval. Annatar took a steadying breath, feeling the satisfaction of another hard-won victory.

[Third Match: Annatar vs. Ser Garett Pyke]

By the third match, Annatar's reputation had grown, and the crowd's anticipation was palpable. His next opponent, Ser Garett Pyke, was a lean and ruthless knight known for his speed and agility—a stark contrast to his previous opponents.

As soon as the match began, Ser Garett darted forward, his movements quick and unpredictable. Annatar raised his shield just in time to deflect a rapid series of strikes, the clang of metal echoing as Garett attacked with swift, calculated precision. This was a different kind of challenge—one that required Annatar to stay on his toes.

He matched Garett's speed, moving in time with each strike, his own movements fluid and responsive. They circled each other, exchanging blows in a fast-paced dance of footwork and reflexes. Annatar knew he couldn't afford to let Garett dictate the pace, so he took the offensive, feinting to one side before delivering a hard swing aimed at Garett's midsection.

Garett dodged, but Annatar pressed forward, not giving him a chance to recover. He pushed Garett back with a relentless assault, his strikes precise and unyielding. Finally, as Garett tried to sidestep, Annatar pivoted, swinging his sword in a wide arc that caught his opponent off-guard. The blow struck Garett's shield, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Annatar stepped forward, placing the tip of his sword at Garett's neck. His opponent yielded, and the crowd erupted once again, their cheers reverberating through the tourney grounds. Annatar lifted his sword in acknowledgment, his confidence growing with each victory.

[The Final Bout: Annatar vs. Ser Harwin Strong]

The final match was announced, and the crowd fell into a hush as Annatar faced his most formidable opponent yet: Ser Harwin Strong, a knight of legendary strength and skill. Annatar felt a surge of adrenaline as he took his position, aware that this would be the ultimate test.

Ser Harwin wasted no time, launching into the match with a powerful swing that Annatar barely deflected. The impact jolted him, and he quickly realized he would have to fight with every ounce of skill he possessed. Harwin's strikes were like hammer blows, each one designed to break through Annatar's defenses.

Annatar focused on staying light on his feet, evading Harwin's crushing attacks by weaving in and out of range. His mind raced as he searched for weaknesses in Harwin's technique, looking for any opening he could exploit. Harwin advanced, swinging his sword in a brutal downward arc. Annatar sidestepped, using his smaller frame to duck under the swing, and retaliated with a quick jab aimed at Harwin's side.

The blow connected, but Harwin barely flinched, retaliating with a backhanded swing that forced Annatar to retreat. They traded blows in a grueling exchange, Annatar's agility against Harwin's raw strength. The young knight was tiring, his breath coming in heavy gasps, but he refused to yield.

Finally, as Harwin raised his sword for a powerful strike, Annatar saw his chance. He feinted to the left, drawing Harwin off-balance, then twisted around with a swift strike aimed at Harwin's exposed side. The blow connected, and Harwin staggered, momentarily thrown off. Seizing the opportunity, Annatar moved in with a flurry of strikes, his movements a blur as he pressed his advantage.

With one final, powerful swing, Annatar struck Harwin's sword from his grip, sending it clattering to the ground. Harwin stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he realized he had been defeated. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, their cheers echoing across the grounds as Annatar stood victorious.

[The Knighthood Ceremony: Corlys's Blessing]

As dusk fell over Driftmark, Lord Corlys Velaryon called the gathered nobles to attention. Annatar, still catching his breath from the intense matches, knelt before him, feeling the weight of the day's victories.

Corlys stepped forward, his expression solemn as he looked down at his young squire.

Corlys:

"Today, Driftmark has witnessed the courage and valor of a young man who has earned his place among Westeros's knights. He has proven his strength, not only through his skill in battle but through his unwavering resolve. Annatar, you have come to us as a squire, but you leave this tourney as something more."

Corlys drew his sword, placing it gently on Annatar's shoulder.

Corlys (raising his voice):

"In the name of Driftmark and House Velaryon, I dub thee Ser Annatar. Rise, Ser Annatar, one of the youngest knights to ever hold this honor."

Annatar rose, the weight of Corlys's words settling over him. He looked out at the crowd, his heart swelling with pride as they cheered his name. He was no longer merely a young squire—he was Ser Annatar, a knight of Driftmark, his place earned through courage, resilience, and his own hand.

As the crowd chanted his name, Annatar knew that his path had only just begun


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