A Prince of House Targaryen

The Melee

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As the entrances into the melee grounds opened up, Aemon once more checked his armor and weapons one last time. A sword and a small sword strapped to his side alongside a shield he held tightly by the handle, and Dark Sister strapped in case he lost all the weapons. His armor was all still there as well. Unlike many of his opponents, Aemon wore the colors red and blue, with a Wolf head on his breastplate. The plate protecting his chest blended rather well with the chainmail surrounding it, the metal having been worn out a long time ago, losing its shine with the many dents and holes accumulated over the years.

Being the first time in the Melee, Aemon felt his heart pounding in his chest. He felt alive, holding his Valyrian Steel Sword in his hands. He felt as if he could beat anyone in his path.

The melee came first before the joust, an exciting warm-up for many and something Aemon was far more willing to conform to. Afterward would be the Archery contest, which Val had signed herself up for. While her skills with a bow were nothing to pay attention to, she still took the opportunity as a way for people to possibly see her skills.

Still, as he fastened his belt and sheathed his blade into its scabbard, the thought of winning still crossed Aemon's mind ever so frantically. The whole realm already knew his worth, killing the Mountain wasn't an easy task, and Aemon had seen the way people had been watching him. Many were now wary of the Bastard of Winterfell, who defeated The Mountain, who was seen as undefeatable, yet, just like every other warrior, he, too, had fallen.

Aemon checked his longsword, sharp and deadly. Great Jon was the one cheering the most. Amongst them, his size made him quite noticeable amongst the people in the arena. Dacey was quiet, holding the mace tightly in her hands. Robb was also quiet, his eyes often glancing at someone in the Audience.

Aemon's eyes went to the one he knew was the most dangerous amongst them, a beast dressed as a man, his sword Dawn sheathed, right now holding his Valyrian Sword instead. Aemon wondered if he could force Arthur Dayne to use Dawn. A sword that was said to have been made out of a mineral that came from the skies, that's the reason many in Westeros often saw Dawn as the best Sword ever to be crafted in Westeros History.

Aemon's eyes went to Prince Aegon. He had to give it to him. His stance and the way he was holding his sword was quite good. Aemon knew he wasn't someone he could easily defeat.

The horns blew out in the distance, snapping him away from his thoughts. It was time.

King Rhaegar stood up, and all participants perked up as silence overtook the Tourney Grounds.

"I'm happy to start the Melee. I wish all the men and women who will show their worth here today Good Luck. I don't want to annoy you any longer. Let the game begins." Rhaegar shouted, with many of the lords chuckling at his words.