Chapter 13: I See Your Dragon?

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  The air in the Old Pace thrummed with anticipation, cheers swelling and fading like waves crashing against the a stone. Snted sunlight poured through narrow windows high above, casting golden lines across the gathering.

  In the courtyard’s ter, a ring of castle guards stood watch, eyes sharp and fixed on the open ground that would serve as the arena.

  On the raised ptform, Prince Doran Martell sat, his expression calm as his gaze swept over the crowd of Dornishmen below. Beside him, Oberyn lounged, his eyes falling on his daughters—the Sand Snakes—scattered in the crowd below. When they caught his eye, they nodded with a smile, their gnces carrying the same fiery spirit as their father.

  hem, Elria watched with quiet amusement, her eyes warm as she soaked in the lively, charged energy of the crowd. “This is going to be iing,” she said.

  “I agree,” Kinvara wanted over. She strided to the ptform with that peculiar smile of hers, the fmes of excitement reflected in her gaze. She ined her head to the two princes, who nodded bad settled beside them.

  “Quite the lively start to the day,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping the arena with a flicker of curiosity. “But are you sure about this, Prince Oberyn? You’ve seen what he do.”

  “Ah, well,” Oberyn chuckled, though Doran frowned, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “I did request Prince Viserys to go easy. Hopefully, he’ll listen.”

  Doran was about to ask what was going on, when the crowd’s focus shifted as Princess Arianne made her entrance. Murmurs followed her like ripples, voices low and filled with admiration. They cheered for her, and she waved at them. She moved through the assembly with the graceful ease of one born to be the ter of attention, her dark hair catg the sunlight, her gaze steady and sure as she met their eyes.

  “Father. Uncle.” She greeted the Princes, bowing a little, as the crowd’s energy seemed to gather around her, rising higher as she took her pce beside her father.

  Kinvara’s gaze flicked to Arianne, her smile deepening slightly as she ined her head. Arianne’s response olite, her nod restraihough a faint tension edged her lips. Her distaste for the priestess was subtle but not unnoticeable. She didn’t like the religion of the God of Light, as a follower of the Faith of the Seven.

  “Now that the princess is here, begin,” Prince Doran said, nudging his . Then, a man in dark red robes, a bright sash slung across his chest, stepped forward—the announcer.

  He raised his hands, and the crowd fell silent, anticipatioling over them like a drawh. “Today!” he procimed, his voice eg across the courtyard, “we gather in love of our dear Princess Arianne Martell, whose honor shall be defended in this sacred Duel of Honor!”

  He paused, letting the crowd’s cheers rise once more, then tinued. “First, we have Ser Andrey Dalt! He’ll be fighting for our Princess!” At his words, Ser Arode into the circle, his light armor polished, his form imposing with a broad shield in one hand and a long sword iher. The crowd’s roar surged, raised fists, and shouts of support filled the courtyard.

  “Ser Ahe pride of Lemonwood!” the announcer tinued, his voiing with pride. “Champion of our princess, who stands to uphold her honor!”

  The cheers intensified, and Ser Andrey raised his sword in aowledgment, his gaze hard and ready. Arianne caught his eye, him a nod, her lips curving in a fident smile as she watched him step into position.

  Drey is a powerful knight, she noted. I ’t wait to see that bastard’s face whehhly humiliated.

  The announcer’s tone shifted, an edge of intrigue c his voice. “And today, he faces a warrior from beyond our shores. A man from Vontis here to challehose who walk the path of blood and sand. He, who has the Sed Sons at his beck’s call, a warrior known as… Vis!”

  A figure emerged from the shadows, face half-hiddeh a ed cloth. Viserys stepped forward, moving with a casual, almost dismissive grace. dark clothing, his Targaryeures cealed by a simple wig, he held nothing but a spear. It was an arrogant trast to Ser Andrey’s armored form. His stance rexed, his gaze unfling.

  The crowd’s murmurs grew, rippling through the courtyard, surprise fshing in their eyes at the sight of this “outsider.” This man, who was he to question their princess’ honor?!

  But as he stood there, calm and assured, those murmurs shifted, turning inted and curious cheers as they adjusted to his unbothered fidence.

  Arianne’s gaze narrowed, her irritation tempered by something else—a hint of fear. Here wasn’t someone awed by the crowd or the spectacle. No, he moved like he’d already won. How could a coward be sant? Was she reading him wrong since his face was hidden?

  “Now!” The announcer’s voice rose over the crowd. “Let the duel begin!”

  The courtyard held its breath as Ser Andrey settled into a solid stance, shield up, sword ready. Across from him, Viserys twirled his spear, his grip so loose it seemed careless, his lips curving in a smirk uhe ask.

  The tension thied, drawn tight as Andrey unched forward, his bde slig down toward Viserys’s chest. Viserys sidestepped with ease, letting the sword pass by inches, and flicked his spear lightly against Andrey’s shield—a pyful tap, more a taunt than an attack.

  “Get him for me, Drey!” Arianne called, a teasing lilt to her voice, her grin widening as she watched her chosen knight advance.

  Ser Andrey’s every step was heavy and deliberate, each swing of his sword powerful and precise. He was a knight that made his allies feel safe, and enemies scared. But… Viserys was a shadow, slipping around him, his spear weaving through the air with a smooth elegahat seemed almost mog. Andrey’s force was met with nothing but swift, effortless evasion, Viserys darting away each time as if barely ied in the fight.

  “Slippery rat!” Frustration fshed in Andrey’s eyes, his strikes ing harder, his breaths growing rough as he fought to er his elusive foe.

  Viserys’s expression remained untouched, his eyes looking almost amused. His dodges were a clear taunt, as of mog and shouting that Andrey’s strength held no threat here.

  He was like a spark of lightning dang oh.

  The crowd watched, spellbound, the tension thick as they took in the csh of styles—the brute strength of Ser Andrey against Viserys’s calm, unbothered agility. Each parry, every fluid sidestep, seemed to underscore the differeween them, and a ripple of realization passed through the spectators as it became obvious who held trol.

  “B fight,” Viserys said when Sir Aarted to pant and slow down. Then, with a swift, calcuted sweep, he brought his spear down in a powerful arc, meeting Andrey’s bde with precise force. Metal rang out, sharp in the silent courtyard, and Andrey’s sword shattered uhe blow, pieces cttering to the ground.

  Stunned, Ser Andrey faltered, his grip slipping as he took a step back, momentarily defenseless. Viserys had already moved, appearing behind him with a swift kick to Andrey’s babsp;

  The knight flew forward, his armored form crashing to the ground as he coughed blood. His on y in pieces beside him as he y still, dazed in the dust.

  Viserys rolled his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, his gaze finding Arianne’s. He tilted his head, his voice rising over the silence. “So, Princess,” he called out, his tone filled with monoce, “what does it mean… to lose a Duel of Honor?”

  Arianne’s eyes burned with pride wounded, anger simmerih her gaze as she met his challenge. Around them, whispers grew, the urmuring in disbelief.

  She wished she could see his head on a spike.

  ****

  I hadn’t expected the spoiled prio feel so insulted she’d demand an Honor Duel. She was what, twenty-two, a so thhly coddled. How could someone so thin-skinned hope to rule a nd like Dorne?

  Now I walked beside Prince Oberyn, who was guiding his older brother with one hand. And oher side of me, with her head dipped low, walked the princess herself, her proud gaze dulled, her expression a tight, stubborn silence. I’d embarrassed her, and it was fun doing so. At least she was quiet now.

  “Ah, children fighting,” Prince Doran said, his voice soft with ughter as he tried to ease the tension with a casual observation.

  The old Viserys might have taken deep offe being called a child, but I let it roll off. Doran was simply trying to settle the matter with minimal fuss. “But that aside,” he added, his tone warming, “you certainly fight well, Prince.”

  I gave a nod, catg his gaze with a faint smile. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I fight best when there’s something on the line. And it’s hard not to enjoy a Dornish duel.”

  Oberyn chuckled, giving his brnce. “You’ve got an instinct for the spear,” he said, looking at me with something close to approval. “Your movements are so impressive that it’s rare for men not born here.”

  I shrugged, keeping my expression smooth. “I admire the freedom, that’s all. Spears are more fun than swords.”

  We walked on, Doran occasionally turning to ask me a question or offer some casual ent. His words were calcuted, his toively mild. He didn’t say it directly like Oberyn, but he too was impressed by my spearmanship. It was the reason I hadn’t just defeated Ser Andrey in the first ten seds. Ariano her silehough I could feel her tension, like the sharp edge of a bde waiting for its ce to strike.

  After a while, Doran’s tone softened into something more curious.

  “I heard about your dragon, Prince Viserys,” he said, his voice ced with a cautious intrigue. “It’s been a long time since Dorne has seen such a creature. Too long, I’d say.” He offered a faint smile, a sign of his i.

  I g him, a flicker of amusement passing through me. “She’s a ravenous one, and she’s hungry,” I replied. “If I bring her out, she’ll likely dart off to hunt. Unless, of course, you happen to have fresh meat at hand.”

  Oberyn ughed, his eyes glinting with uanding. “Fresh meat is easy enough to find here.”

  Doran nodded, his gaze sidering. “You’re in luck, then. I had some sheep butchered earlier today. They’re waiting just nearby, if you would like to show us this dragon of yours.”

  I ined my head, following the two princes down a narrow passage until we emerged into a courtyard. Several sheep carcasses hung suspended on ropes, their bodies limp and lifeless. Behind them, there was a farm where live sheep were eating grass. It was a sad se if ohought about it. The air was quiet, tinged with the st of blood, and the sky above was darkening, casting long shadows over the se.

  “Should be enough,” I said and stopped before the bodies, gng between Doran, Oberyn, and Arianne, her gaze fixed ahead. I raised a hand, snapping my fingers.

  They all watched as the air cracked, splitting open with a shiver as space itself seemed to tear apart. From that rift, a dog-sized figure sprang forward, a fsh of glistening scales and sharp talons. My Viserion nded with a quick, silent grace, her eyes bright and hungry as they locked onto the hangi.

  However, she didn’t rush to eat that.

  Instead, she rushed toward the living sheep on the farm behind. She lunged forward, tg onto one of the white furballs with her sharp teeth, tearing into the flesh.

  A low growl escaped her throat, and a burst of fme followed, charring the sheep with a crisp sizzle before it could even scream. The fmes also caught on half a dozen other ships, burning them alive. Arianne gasped as the st of burni filled the courtyard as she tore into her meal, her growls a deep, satisfying rumble.

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a sheep.]

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a sheep.]

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  [Your dragon, Viserion, has killed a sheep.]

  ….

  [You’ve received experience points.]

  [You’ve leveled up.]

  [Level 11]

  All three of them watched the se with wide eyes, mouths agape, and faces a mix of awe and fasation. But it was Arianne’s expression that caught my eye.

  Her initial anger melted into something deeper, her gaze wide and transfixed, a look of reverence overtaking her features as she took in the sight of Viserion dev the meal. The ahat had hardened her gaze softened, repced by something like reverence, as though she was seeing herself ride the dragon iure. Her kids doing the same…

  This was no mere show, no ival creature on dispy. It was a dragon—and everyone uood the implication of it. They also uood the fact that it was mine.

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