章節 17: The Great Warrior
Samaya was having trouble sleeping as she lay atop her blankets in the nude with her long thick black hair sprawled out on her pillow. All she could think about was the strange group that had entered the city barely half a day ago, though it was one of them who interested her the most, she discarded the white and red-haired men as they looked weak, and while the older black haired one had the stance of a warrior he did not ooze the power that the one called Jon did, and he was of the Blood of Old Valyria.
From his body to his stance to his very blood, everything about him oozed power and Samaya wanted him for herself. If she could convince him to stay in the city mayhaps she would slaughter the rest of the Great Fathers, while some were good in their roles others had just become vain and arrogant, believing themselves to be chosen by the gods just for being pretty.
She felt it ridiculous, the Patriarch was an example of this, his arrogance and pride made him a poor ruler and yet he was the ruler. But that was the way things are and Samaya felt content in her life, at least until she met Jon. Now her blood boiled and she did not know if she wanted to fight him or to mate with him, but she did know she wanted her skin to press against his own, whether it was through violence or intimacy did not matter.
She wished she could be the one to fight him tomorrow but the Patriarch in his great arrogance has picked someone who is a mediocre warrior at best. The Great General is a Large man but that is all he is, even Samaya believes she could take him on with minimal effort. She looked forward to watching Jon destroy him tomorrow, though she did hold out some hope that Jon would lose so she could get impregnated with his baby, she was the only one who could carry his child and give him one that was equally if not more so as strong as himself.
'Mayhaps I should visit him tonight' she thinks to herself as she traces lines down her muscled body. Her body was the peak of what someone could achieve, the perfect balance between strength and agility. Samaya had only ever been interested in training and leading the mothers but her desire had been enflamed and it was making her thoughts unclear.
'I won't wait...' she thinks to herself as she gets out of bed and puts on a yellow silken robe, her hair had been taken out of their braids and so a large mass of thick curls cascaded down her body to her lower back. She opened the door to her chambers and slipped out into the knight.
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The cave was large and the only light came from a large opening that led to the outside, as well as the torch that Oberyn had in his hand. But apart from the scarcity of light the thing that Jon noticed the most was the smell, a mixture of blood and rot, the smell of death.
Oberyn tosses his torch a couple of dozen feet in front of him and Jon's eyes widen when it bounces off the head of a dragon, he almost fell backwards when met with the massive creature, however, he calmed down once he realised that it hadn't reacted to the torch being thrown at it.
He heard Oberyn chuckle "You took that a lot better than I did, I almost soiled myself when I saw it the first time"
"It's dead..." Jon commented getting a nod from Oberyn. Jon immediately started to walk closer to the creature, it was massive, he could probably ride a whole wheelhouse into its mouth and not even touch its teeth.
"But that is not what I wished to show you," Oberyn said as he gestured for him to follow.
Oberyn led him around the monstrous dragon's head, its maw was open and he could see the large teeth that were almost as big as his legs jutting out, the scales were an ugly brown colour though even the colour could not take away from the majesty of the dragon, especially one of this size.
Oberyn grabbed the torch from the floor as he went, what waited for them around the monstrous dragon's head shocked Jon even more. A broken golden egg with purple veins running through it and right next to it was another dragon, it was the size of a large dog and Jon had to wonder how this could've happened. Though this didn't take him long to unravel.
"They are insane..." he commented when he figured out what must've happened.
"They must've either lured or allowed the dragon to nest here, and kept feeding it until it hatched one of the eggs, then they must've poisoned its food" Jon hypothesised, nothing else made sense, there was no way that these people could've figured out to hatch the egg by themselves, not even his ancestors could do such a thing.
"We now know why they're so desperate for your blood, they wish to make one of their children a rider" Oberyn stated which Jon nodded to.
Jon approached the small dragon "Be careful, when I got too close it tried to set me alight" Oberyn warned however Jon was not listening, he was mesmerised by the golden scales of the small dragon as well as its purple eyes that mirrors Jon's own. He approached slowly, and the dragon reared back and growled. Though it couldn't escape as it had been chained to the ground, most likely so it wouldn't hide in this large cavern.
However the closer Jon got the calmer the dragon appeared to be, Jon reached his hand out tentatively, even a dragon this small could take off half his hand should it bite him. But it didn't and it allowed Jon to touch the scales upon its head. He felt the intense heat of his scales and was awed by how they felt under his hand, the dragon screeched but it wasn't aggressive, it even pushed its head against his hand which made Jon smile and laugh.
"Truly incredible..." he said aloud as he continued to stroke the young dragon's scales. It even attempted to climb atop him but was limited by the chain around its neck which caused Jon to frown.
"It is disgusting that they'd do this to such a majestic creature, this could be the last of its kind and they chain it to the floor by its dead mother" Jon said with venom in his voice.
"Well you're lucky you have such a cunning and handsome companion," he said as he lifted the keys he'd swiped from one of the guards. Jon looked up at him and smiled before taking the keys from him and trying them until he heard the clicking sound of the collar unlocking.
The dragon immediately climbed up Jon's body cooling around his shoulders and neck "I can't imagine our hosts will be happy once they've learned their dragon no longer belongs to them"
Jon frowned, Oberyn was right, they would most likely kill the dragon than allow it to fall from their hands. Jon did the only thing he could think of at that moment and he took the dragon towards the large opening of the cave, once he reached the ledge he instinctively stepped back, this cave system was inside the overhang that the palace was built on and so it overlooked the city below. Jon grabbed the dragon from around his neck and held it in both arms.
"Sōvegon" he said to the dragon, and or tried to flap its wings, but it seemed that being chained up since birth had atrophied some of the muscles it used. So Jon did the most rational thing he could think of at the time, and he threw the dragon off the cliff while shouting the command to fly again. In a free fall, the dragon had a much easier time of flying, and while it glided at first its wings started to flap fast and stronger until it gained altitude and stopped falling, Jon saw it fly away from the city and disappear into the night.
'Probably for the best' he thought to himself, he often thought dragons were a power that was best left alone, the terror and destruction they wrought for thousands of years were immeasurable. While they made formidable allies during the Long Night it was only a matter of time before people used them for more selfish reasons.
Jon sighed 'Those days are long passed now' he thought to himself, it was best not to dwell on such things, Maesters often spent years contemplating simple questions of life, he had learned quite early on that sometimes questions are not meant to be answered or we simply couldn't understand them.
"Come we should leave before they find their prized possession has escaped" Oberyn states clapping Jon on the back, Jon looks at him and nods before following him out of the room, looking at the dragon one last time before leaving.
"Do you think they'll notice?" Oberyn asked as they walked together back through the corridors of the palace.
"Yes..." Jon replied in a monotone voice.
"I see... So you're saying that it would not hurt for me to steal some other things" Oberyn replies clapping Jon on the back and walking off.
"What? That's not what I said!" Jon whispered loudly at Oberyn who didn't reply and just waved as he turned a corridor.
Jon sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose 'Tomorrow is going to be a long day' he thought to himself as he continued walking through the corridors finally reaching his room, he opened the door expecting to finally be able to get some sleep and rest for his fight tomorrow. What he did not expect was a fist that he barely avoided, it grazed his cheek and hit the wooden door behind him cracking the wood.
Jon's eyes widened at the feat but he didn't have time to think about it as he had to roll out of the way of a kick that nearly took his door off the hinges. When he stood up he was met with the dishevelled appearance of Samaya who had a wild smile on her face, she breathed heavily and her cheeks were slightly darkened, she also wore close to nothing her large breasts and groin being exposed by her open robe "I will not wait any longer, I will fight you myself and claim you" she said her voice filled with excitement.
She then rushed at Jon and jumped trying to land a punch on him, he steps out of the way and grabs her wrist before attempting to throw her, however, she plants her feet and he can't budge her, to say Jon was surprised would be an understatement. He hadn't encountered anyone since Robert Baratheon who had a similar level of strength to himself but she was able to stop him from throwing her. What she did next shocked him more with her free hand she wrapped it around the back of his next before crouching and rolling him over her shoulder.
She then flipped over onto him and straddled him, pinning his arms above his head. Her face was close to his own and she still breathed heavily "Everything here is so dull, but you excite me, you make my blood wild" she says as she presses her body against his own. He could feel her nipple rings pressing into his chest through his tunic and felt his cock harden slightly.
"Where does your strength come from," he asks her as it was the most burning question on his mind.
"Mothers must have the strength to carry the next generation, the First Mother must have the strength to lead the Mothers" she breathed out quietly into his ear as she rubbed herself against him.
"If a woman is born with great strength she becomes the First Mother, it is destiny" she continues.
"What if more than one is born..." he asks though he suspects he already knows the answer.
She smirks "Only the Strongest survive, it has been this way since the beginning"
'Truly amazing... thousands of years of breeding the strongest and killing off the weak led to her' he thought to himself. He was still pinned underneath her which was starting to bother him and so he thrust his hips upward as hard as he could it lifted her into the air and it gave him the chance to tuck his feet underneath him and push her with his legs launching her off of him.
She rolled backwards before crouching on all fours like a wolf with a feral grin across her face "Good... I did not think you'd be so easily defeated" she said as she pushed herself off the ground in an attempt to tackle him once more, Jon who had gotten up planted his feet and prepared for her, as she impacted him he struggled to stay in the same spot and he skidded back slightly as she drove into him.
Jon grabbed her from over her back and wrapped his arms around her belly, he lifted her off her feet and threw her across the room, however, she managed to right herself in the air and land on her hands before pushing herself to her feet 'She's insane, but quite incredible as well' Jon thought to himself as he once again her to dodge a punch she threw at him.
She was fast and each of her punches was strong, had this been a normal person they might find their hands aching and cracked from the force. With a grunt she threw another punch that Jon caught "Fight back! Or you'll find yourself being taken very soon" she shouted at him frustration mounting on her face.
Jon sighed but then steeled himself he didn't mind fighting women as some of the most skilled warriors he knew were female but using his full strength against them felt wrong, however, he'd make an exception in this case as he thought she could take it. He threw a quick punch to her face which dazed her and then followed it up with a punch to the stomach. She recovered quickly though a wild smile forming on her face as she tried to drive him to the wall. Still, when she attempted to do so he grabbed her arms before turning them around and pushing her to the wall. She grunted at the force of the push but otherwise didn't react, Jon sent multiple punches towards her body which she took easily, however, she then deflected the last one before pushing him and then pushing herself off the wall and punching him in the face.
He hadn't been hit that hard since he fought Robert Baratheon, he rubbed his jaw before avoiding a kick however she kept herself on one foot and instead of putting her leg down she drew it back before shooting it in the direction he was in and kicked him, it launched him through the almost broken door and out into the corridor.
He groaned as he managed to hit his head on the ground, though when he looked up he saw Oberyn who had his hands full with various items, Oberyn smirked at Jon which pissed him off "You're a lucky man my friend" he simply said before changing directions and walking off.
"Oberyn wait I-" but before he can finish Samaya grabs his leg dragging him back into the room. She is able to lift him up by his leg throwing him to the bed. Jon realising where they were silently cursed 'Okay no more holding back' he thought to himself and he pushed himself from the bed and threw a punch as hard as he could at Samaya's stomach he saw her face grimace in pain and she spluttered a bit as she skidded back on her feet.
Jon jumped forward and kicked her straight in the chest launching her back even more, she tried to throw a punch but he caught her wrist and then grabbed her throat and slammed her against the wall "Enough, it's over" Jon said with narrowed eyes.
Samaya felt pain shooting throughout her body, those blows that connected with her stomach and her chest, it was as if she had been kicked by a horse. But it only made her burn hotter than before, he had defeated her and proved his strength so it only made her more determined to have him. But that would have to happen another time "I concede" she breathes out lightly as she is still being choked by him.
Jon breathes out a sigh of relief as he lets her go, she rubs her neck slightly, he'd have been worried that he hurt her if it wasn't for the fact that she still had a smile on her face "Your victory only proves I was right about you, and it makes my desire for you burn like the sun"
"But you have won this time, and I am not so dishonourable that I would continue after conceding, while it is likely you will lose tomorrow take heart in the fact that I will guide you through the desert," She said to him which slightly confuses Jon.
"Why would you offer to guide us before I've even fought the champion," he asked.
"Had I beaten you now, I would've taken your seed inside of me, however, you are the victor and so it is only fair I honour your wishes" she explains as she walks passed Jon to the door of his room.
Jon nods his head in understanding before looking towards her receding form "What makes you believe that I will lose tomorrow?" He asks, while he didn't believe himself to be arrogant he had confidence in his abilities.
She turned her head towards him "The Patriarch will pick the Great Warrior, he is the strongest of our people and even I could barely last a minute against him" she said before exiting his room leaving Jon there to his thoughts.
Jon looked at his room which looked as if it had been ransacked. He walked to his broken door before lifting it and balancing it inside the door frame to give himself some privacy, he did not have the energy to do much else and so he climbed into his bed and slowly drifted off to sleep.
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The sun was high in the sky when the servants had brought Jon and his party to the arena, it was a large circular space that extended out of the overhang that the palace sat on, and the only way to access it as a narrow stone bridge that could only fit a single horse and carriage. This was their sacred battleground and it was where they fought, whether it be for entertainment or execution.
Jon walked next to Samaya who he'd caught staring at him quite often, behind him were Brienne and Oberyn. Brienne felt quite sick, though she couldn't tell if it was because of the height or the babe growing inside her, she had unconsciously placed her hand over her stomach, something she found herself doing more and more often. However what she didn't know was that Oberyn had noticed her doing such a thing, and while to the average man this gesture would go unnoticed, Oberyn had fathered many children and had learnt that women share some gestures and movements when it comes to being with a child.
He leans closely to her "I would congratulate you but it seems that you wish to keep this a secret" he said with a smirk, Brienne was speechless for a few moments but then did the only thing she could think of and nodded.
Behind them stood Aegon and Jon Connington, one looked rather confident that they'd be leaving the victors while the other walked with a scowl on his face as if it had been permanently etched on "Aegon, we need to leave beforehand if Jon loses then we'll have to escape"
Aegon shakes his head "I have faith in Jon, we will stay no matter the outcome, if he should suffer any consequences then I shall be there with him"
Jon Conningtons scowl turned into one of shock as he heard the words leave Aegon's mouth, he'd never gone against him before, he always accepted his advice and recognised good council 'That damn bastard is corrupting him' Jon Connington thought to himself as they walked onwards.
"You said that you think I'd lose yesterday, is this man such a great warrior?" Jon asks Samaya trying to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.
She nods her head "I do not know much about him as he does not oft speak with people. But they say when he was young he was the weakest warrior of our people, so he travelled east to Yi-Ti, when he returned years later he fought everyone and has reigned undefeated"
"If he was weak why was he not gelded like the others?" Jon asked with slight confusion.
Samaya shrugged "He was still handsome, and what he lacked in strength he made up for in his intelligence" she explained getting a nod from Jon.
Jon did not have much time to dwell on these thoughts as they had arrived at the arena, there was a large number of seats that circled the arena with several levels. The Patriarch and what looked like the Great Fathers all sat upon the highest level looking down on the arena, the rest of the seating was filled with women though some other men seemed to be present too however they were most likely there to serve.
Jon's party are split off from him and he was led to the stage by Samaya "I will be glad to have you once you lose, though should you win then I won't rest until I have you" she said with slightly manic eyes.
Jon raised an eyebrow at her "And why not take the Great Warrior to your bed? If he is capable of beating me then surely he would be more worthy?" He asked
"His power comes from years of training, while you have a strong body, only one of those can be passed down" she stated.
As he walks the steps onto the stage he sees his opponent before him and can't help but wonder whether it was a jest. Before him was a man who sat on the ground with his legs crossed, he was small being nearly a foot shorter than Jon and he was rather slender, though his body did have a bit of muscle. What stood out the most was his greying hair, if Jon had to guess he would say the man was at least into his 50th year.
'Why would they make him my opponent? Can he be that strong? Or are they simply underestimating me' he thought to himself as he approached.
Jon eyed the old man cautiously, his muscles tense with anticipation as he assessed his opponent. The air in the arena was heavy with tension, the crowd of spectators eager for the confrontation that was about to unfold.
As the old man stood up he spoke "So you're the whelp that I'm here to discipline, let's get to it then" he said his voice dripping with arrogance, Jon couldn't help but clench his fists. He knew that this encounter would be no ordinary fight. He wondered if Samaya was truthful when she described his strength but regardless, he realized that he would need to be careful not to underestimate his opponent's abilities.
With a focused determination, Jon stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the Great Warrior. He braced himself mentally, preparing for the unexpected. The crowd's murmurs of excitement and curiosity surrounded him, creating a backdrop to the impending clash.
"The whelp, am I?" Jon's voice carried a note of challenge as he addressed the old man. "Let's see if your skill matches your arrogance."
The old man's eyes glinted with amusement, a wry smile forming on his lips. "Ah, a fiery spirit. Let's dance, then."
The atmosphere was charged as Jon and the old man faced each other, a silent challenge passing between them. Jon's mind raced, trying to anticipate the old man's moves.
As the tension built, Jon took a deep breath, his muscles coiled and ready for action. The arena seemed to narrow down to just him and the Great Warrior, the world around them fading into the background. With a determined nod, Jon readied himself to engage in this unique and unpredictable battle.
"Do we not get any weapons for this duel?" Jon asks the man who laughs at him.
"In Hyrkoon a weapon is only as good as the man who wields it, if you can not fight without one you are no true warrior, though if you want I am sure they can make an exception" he said though the last part was said mockingly which pissed Jon off.
"It'll be fine..." Jon said as he grits his teeth and clenches his fists. He was going to end this quickly. He then charges the old man intent on showing him the cost of his arrogance.
Jon's fists flew through the air, fueled by a mixture of determination and no small amount of anger. His punch connected with the old man's face, only to be met with an eerie lack of resistance. It was as if he had struck a void, and the old man effortlessly flipped backwards, landing gracefully on his feet. The shock of the unexpected reaction jolted through Jon, but he quickly regained his focus.
Before he could fully process what had just happened, Jon launched another punch, this time targeting the man's stomach. The impact was solid, and the force of the blow should have sent the old man reeling, but his response was far from what Jon expected. The old man merely slid back a step, showing no sign of pain or distress. His mocking laughter only served to fuel Jon's determination.
As the old man closed the distance between them, Jon braced himself for another exchange. The old man's punch seemed deceptively weak, and Jon hesitated to evade it. However, his choice proved costly as the punch landed with a force that left him coughing up blood, the impact sending him sprawling backwards.
The arena seemed to spin as Jon struggled to regain his footing. His chest burned from the impact, and his mind raced to understand the strange dynamic of this fight. He locked eyes with the old man, who taunted him with a smirk. The crowd's murmurs of amazement and disbelief echoed around them.
The air was thick with tension as Jon and the old man circled each other in the centre of the arena. Their eyes locked, each gauging the other's movements, searching for any advantage they could exploit. Jon's heart pounded in his chest, his fists clenched as he prepared to engage.
Jon threw another punch, his fist aimed at the old man's head. Yet, as his knuckles connected, it felt as if he was striking nothing more than a phantom. It was a disorienting experience, and before Jon could recover, the old man countered with a swift punch to his ribs. The force of the blow sent a shockwave of pain through Jon's body, and he stumbled back, struggling to catch his breath.
Determined not to be outdone, Jon launched a flurry of punches, each aimed at a different angle. But no matter how precise his strikes were, they all met with the same eerie resistance. It was as if the old man's body defied the laws of physics, absorbing the impact of Jon's blows without showing any sign of strain.
The old man retaliated with a series of lightning-fast strikes, his fists darting toward Jon's face and body with unnerving accuracy. Jon's defences were put to the test as he barely managed to block or evade the onslaught. Each time his fists made contact with the old man's body, it felt like hitting a cushion of air. The frustration gnawed at Jon's determination, but he refused to back down.
As the fight continued, Jon's movements became more calculated. He began to anticipate the old man's attacks, evading with nimble footwork and striking with precision. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the old man's body seemed to flow with the hits, absorbing the force effortlessly.
Jon's own body was becoming a canvas of bruises and cuts, a testament to the old man's skill and Jon's determination. Despite the pain, Jon's eyes burned with a fiery resolve. He refused to be defeated by an opponent who seemed to defy the very rules of combat.
The old man continued to laugh at Jon "How do you like it, boy! This is my ultimate technique, none have been available to overcome it before!" He said arrogantly as he threw another punch.
Amidst the chaos of their clash, Jon's mind raced. He knew he couldn't overpower the old man with sheer force alone. With blood dripping from his wounds, Jon shifted his strategy. He focused on evading the old man's strikes, his movements fluid as he weaved and dodged, studying the patterns of his opponent's attacks.
The old man's strikes were relentless, but Jon's newfound defensive tactics allowed him to mitigate some of the damage. He moved with a newfound precision, his body responding to the ebb and flow of the battle. Yet, even as he parried and sidestepped, the old man's blows still found their mark, each one a reminder of his opponent's unfathomable skill.
Jon's breath came in ragged gasps as he searched for an opening. He aimed for vulnerabilities, exploiting brief moments of imbalance in the old man's movements. He managed to land a few strikes, though it was a hollow victory as they still felt as if they had hit nought but air. As Jon sought to unravel the old man's technique, he found himself repeatedly outmanoeuvred, his attempts at offence turned into defensive manoeuvres.
The old man's strikes continued to rain down, each one carrying the weight of years of experience. Jon's arms and legs were battered, his body protesting with every impact. He tasted his blood as he fought to keep his feet beneath him. The crowd's gasps and cheers blended into a distant roar, his focus solely on the man before him.
As Jon's body ached and his vision swam, he felt a surge of determination. If the old man's body was impervious to his strikes, he would find another way to defeat him. Gathering his remaining strength, Jon moved in closer, his movements deliberate and calculated.
The old man's expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as Jon closed the distance. With a burst of speed, Jon lunged forward, his hands reaching out to grasp the old man's arms. But the old man's body seemed to slip through Jon's fingers, his form elusive as he evaded Jon's attempt to grab hold.
Jon's frustration mounted, his breathing laboured as he continued to pursue the old man. He watched closely, analyzing the way his opponent moved. And then it hit him—the old man was incredibly agile, but his technique seemed to rely on maintaining a state of relaxation. He needed to disrupt that rhythm.
As the old man sidestepped another of Jon's lunges, Jon feigned a punch, his fist connecting with the ground instead. The shockwave of impact reverberated through the earth, sending a jolt through the old man's body. His muscles tensed, his state of relaxation momentarily broken.
Jon seized the opportunity. His fingers closed around the old man's leg, his grip unyielding as he lifted him off the ground. The old man's eyes widened in surprise, his body struggling against Jon's hold. But Jon's strength, honed through years of rigorous training and relentless battles, proved overwhelming.
With a triumphant roar, Jon swung the old man through the air, his body crashing into the arena floor with a resounding thud. The ground shook beneath the impact, and a hushed silence fell over the crowd as they beheld the sight before them.
Jon stood there, his chest heaving, his body battered and bruised. The old man lay sprawled on the ground, his aura of invincibility shattered. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, his gaze fixed on Jon with a mixture of shock and disbelief.
At that moment, the arena seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable. And then, as if awakened from a spell, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause.
Despite the pain that radiated through his body from the old man's barrage of punches, Jon's determination and sharp perception didn't waver. He gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body tense as he analyzed the old man's movements. With each punch that landed, Jon's mind raced, piecing together the puzzle of the old man's technique.
And then it clicked. Through the pain and chaos of the fight, Jon saw the pattern—the subtle shift in the old man's weight, the way he coordinated his entire body to deliver each blow with the force of his entire being. It was a technique that harnessed momentum and his body to maximize the impact of every strike.
With this realization, Jon's eyes gleamed with newfound understanding. He had discovered the core principle behind the old man's seemingly superhuman strength. His punches weren't a result of some mystical power; they were a result of technique, precision, and a deep understanding of fighting.
With the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, Jon's mind worked quickly. He had unravelled the essence of the old man's technique—a technique that hinged on maintaining contact with the ground to harness its force. Suspended in the air, the old man would be unable to execute his martial prowess. The plan formed in Jon's mind like a well-choreographed dance, every step and move meticulously calculated.
He sent an uppercut at the Old Man which still felt like he was hitting air however it did manage to achieve what he wanted as the old man stumbled back from Jon's uppercut, his body lifted slightly off the ground, Jon seized the moment. He loosened his own body, mirroring the technique he had observed from the old man. With a primal roar that emanated from his core, Jon unleashed a punch, channelling all the newfound insight, strength and body weight into that single, explosive blow.
The punch connected with a shockwave that rippled through the arena, a manifestation of Jon's raw power and skill. The old man's eyes widened in shock and pain as the blow struck him, the technique he had wielded so confidently now faltering before Jon's unstoppable force.
Blood sprayed from the old man's mouth, and his body became a projectile launched into the air. He soared through the arena like a ragdoll, crashing into the seating area with a resounding impact. The crowd fell into hushed awe, the spectacle before them defying belief.
The old man lay among the seats, utterly unconscious, his mastery of technique humbled by Jon's sheer natural genius. The arena buzzed with whispers, shock, and admiration. Jon stood at the centre of it all, his chest heaving with exertion, his expression a mix of triumph and exhaustion.
"NO! NO! NO! NO!" The Patriarch sounded from his seat like an impudent child, he slammed his fist against the throne he sat on.
Jon looks up to him with a blank expression "I have won, will you deliver on your promise?" He asked in a calm voice.
The Patriarch scowled at Jon "I will not" he says viciously
He then shouts out to the rest of the warrior women there in his native tongue "Arrest them all, they are to be in the palace cells within the hour"
While Jon didn't understand the language he could more than understand the universal sign for something bad was about to happen, he turned around and ran off the stage heading for the bridge. Luckily his companions were only on the first level of the seating so they were already close to the entrance.
They all rushed out of the arena and headed into the bridge only to be met with Samaya who stood there with her weapon drawn, Jon tensed as he knew how much she wanted him to stay but much to his surprise she smiled "Why have you stopped? Are we not leaving?" She said which made Jon smile and they kept running across the narrow bridge.
However not all of them were very fast, Aegon did not exercise much and Jon Connington was old and had not kept healthy, so the Warrior women were close to catching up with them. However heard a screech reverberate across the air, he looked up and was met with the shining golden scales of the dragon he had freed from the dungeon. It swooped down and then unleashes dragon flame down behind his party, while it wasn't big enough to burn the entire bridge it was able to block off the bridge from the pursuers coming further.
They took their chance and ran, the dragon followed them before flying down and landing on Jon's back, had he turned around he would've been met with the barely concealed rage of Jon Connington and the Envy of Aegon.
They managed to get to the stables of the palace and they quickly saddled their horses before riding out of the palace gates. As they left the city they turned to head back to the Golden Company, however they had already been marching towards the city. Jon didn't even need to hide his confusion, however, it wouldn't be for long as Connington explained "When I sent back Aegon's guard I told him to get the troops marching Incase things went bad, good thing I did too"
Oberyn smirked "I'm impressed, I did not know you were capable of making a good decision," he said much to Conningtons rage.
Jon sighed "Let's leave before they try and block our way" he reasoned to them, though as they rode back he turned to Samaya.
"Why did you choose to come with us, it is doubtful you'll be allowed to return" Jon asked.
Samaya turned to him and smirked "I meant my words when I said them, you will be putting your seed inside me"
Jon couldn't help but sigh once more as another girl was added to the long list of those who wanted his seed.
(AN: Man finally done, sorry this came out late but I have been working 8-9 shifts hours past couple days you know how it is, unless you're in school. Anyway I'm sure if anyone here has watched Baki they understand the reference made, tbh I just felt like adding another sword fight would be boring so tried to spice it up a bit as the Far east is really different to western Essos. Also another thing, A name for the dragon, comment below if ya got any suggestions. Now that I'm done I can finally sleep)
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