𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 | Tourneys
{ Malkym }
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"𝕴 do not understand why I am being forced to do this." Malkym slouched after his uncle, not in the mood to fight or compete in a joust. "I am not prepared-"
"Do not lie."
"I do not joust."
"Again, a lie." Ser Rickard was as tall as Malkym's father was, with the same dark hair and cold eyes. Where Kieren had gone to take over Alterwoode, Rickard had followed through on the blood oath that he swore to the crown during battle, and had stayed to become a King's Guard member. "You are a Thorne. You fight, it is your duty and your calling. Do not be lazy."
"This is a tourney for the birth of the supposed heir to the Iron Throne, and you think I should fight in it?" Malkym believed his uncle to have lost his mind. It was madness.
"Yes." Rickard nodded, turning back to his nephew, who tightened the straps on his armour, grumbling. "It is too late now, anyway. I have added your name to the list, with the king's permission. He expects you to ride."
Malkym huffed, knowing that he could not deny the king. He sulked for a moment, grabbing his helmet and stomping away from his uncle, who seemed perfectly content with Malkym dying before he could even marry as his father wished.
But perhaps that was a good thing. Fanfare sounded, and Malkym stopped kicking the sand around his feet, looking up to the royal box, that was filled with people.
"I know many of you have travelled great leagues to be at these games. But I promise that you will not be disappointed." The king spoke across the crowds, and Malkym tilted his head at the words. If Malkym looked carefully enough, he could make out the dresses of the ladies and who each was. Most were pale colours of blues and greys. "When I look at the fine knights on these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories and this great day is made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share. Queen Aemma has begun her labours."
The crows erupted into cheers as Malkym clapped his hands, before beginning to smile at the sight of a blood red dress that was hurrying to the front of the box. That dress could only belong to one person, and the pale hair further confirmed his thoughts.
The Princess had come to watch.
Despite her having walked into the back of his yesterday, and his status as a common lord, Malkym had found himself intrigued by her. It was the first time that someone in King's Landing had played along with his jests, and he enjoyed that.
"May the Seven shine upon all combatants." The first joust partners began to warm up, as Malkym paused and cursed, hurrying to find his uncle.
"I do not even have a horse." Malkym turned to glare at his uncle, who grinned and nodded to the horse next to him. "I should never have spoken. I should never have accepted this. Why did I come to this city instead of going to Essos? Father never would have known. He would have thought I was eaten by a boar or something."
"Come, you ride after these two." Malkym huffed, glaring at his feet as he vaulted onto the horse. The horse instantly seemed to know what to do, prancing and snorting in protest as Malkym kept him steady. Reaching for his shield, Malkym continued to glare as he grabbed his joust, before riding onto the field, grumbling under his breath as his uncle laughed. "Remember, ask for a favour! Present yourself to the king!"
His uncle was grinning widely. He was enjoying his nephew's pain, Malkym came to realise.
Malkym continued to grumble and groan before coming to a stop beside the older Baratheon rider that had just asked for Princess Rhaenys' favour, as a family member of hers. He stopped his horse, raising his helm and bowing at the king, as he tried to work out who to ask for a favour. The king nodded, and Malkym raised himself up, before setting his eyes on the princess, for she was the only one he knew on the balcony.
She was watching him from below her eyelashes, one eyebrow raised as she tried not to smirk. Her violet eyes flashed in the light, daring him to ask, and Malkym obliged.
"Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen," Malkym held his joust up as he bowed his head. "I wish to ask for your favour before going into this joust, Your Grace. Hopefully, your blessing will be with me."
Rhaenyra stood, trying not to giggle as she picked the crown of red roses from beside her, leaning over the parapet. She placed it over the tip of the joust, watching as it slid down to Malkym's hand.
"I wish you luck, Ser Malkym."
"I seem to need it." Malkym nodded, looking at his competitor before back at Rhaenyra. He leant forward conspiratorially, as she did the same. "If I win, will you promise to not burn me alive?"
"Well, that depends on whether you win." Rhaenyra grinned, as Malkym winked and wheeled his horse around to go back to the far corner. His horse snorted, turning as Malkym chuckled and pulled his visor down.
"Come now. The princess is watching. I do not want to become burnt." Malkym whispered, before giving the horse a steady kick. Sweat beaded on his brow, dribbling past his eyes and nose, as he brought his joust down, aiming carefully for the opponent's shield. The horse's hooves pounded against the sand, echoing through his head as Malkym moved minutely to the side, before grunting as the joust slammed against the wood.
His joust shattered on impact, the feeling reverberating up his arm and across his shoulders as he hissed. The opponent's joust twisted around, as Malkym leant back in his saddle, watching as the stick brushed over his armour, but left him unscathed. Twisting, he turned to see the Baratheon knight fall off of his horse, cheering with the crowd at the thought of keeping his honour, and his family's honour.
It helped that he had not made a fool of himself in front of the princess.
Malkym threw his shattered stick away and grabbed his spare just in case the man was to get back up. But he was not to, falling onto his chest, as Malkym pulled his helm off and grinned once more, catching Rhaenyra's eyes. She was clapping, as Malkym cantered past, jumping down to collect his favour from the floor. He shook his hair out, bowing, before getting back onto his horse.
"Malkym!" Freezing, Malkym twisted to his uncle, following the man away from the sand as Rickard's eyebrows furrowed. "When I said ask for a favour, I did not mean from the princess."
"What?"
"You should not have asked for the princess' favour."
"I do not understand. She was there, and she had a favour to present. I merely asked for a favour."
"Daemon Targaryen rides today, and he expects a favour from his niece. You have stolen that from him."
"She is free to give it to who she chooses, and in this case, she chose the age appropriate option." The snark earned him a swift clip over the ears. "What?"
"It is only rumours that they are betrothed. Do not bring light to it."
"It is weird that they would even dream of wedding a grown man to a princess who is ten and four, not to mention, his niece." Malkym huffed.
"It is not our place to discuss this." Rickard hissed back, as Malkym moved onto the other problem at hand.
"I do not see how it is an issue." Malkym ruffled his sweaty hair once more. "She gave me her favour, I earned it..."
"...and should you ride against Daemon Targaryen, he shall take his anger out on you and I will not be able to return you to my brother." Rickard pointed out. "Lose the next match. It is against another knight, from Dorne. There will be no shame in losing it."
"My pride will feel shame."
"You'll be alive to feel it at least." Rickard shot back. "Lose to Ser Criston Cole."
"Who?" Malkym did not even recognise the house.
"The common lord."
"Oh."
"Do not make an enemy of Daemon." Rickard warned, calming the teenager. "Become unseated in this match, loosen your stirrup but if you ride against Daemon, there will be issues. If you lose, you will be targeted. If you win, you place yourself in danger for not only beating him, but for stealing his favour."
Malkym's shoulders deflated, anger marring his features for a moment as he processed it all.
"Let the common born lord win." Rickard patted his leg. "Losing to this man is not a disgrace, but winning against Daemon Targaryen would cause an uproar. We should strive not to put ourselves in the king's bad favour."
"I see."
Malkym sighed and donned his helm, before jumping back onto the horse and letting both feet slip back from his stirrups. When Ser Criston's joust hit the centre of his shield, Malkym allowed himself to slip from the horse, landing winded on his back. The horse cantered back to his master, whilst Malkym stood and nodded at Ser Criston, turning to join his uncle at the side line as he pulled his helm off.
"Well done."
"I do not like this."
"It is better than riding against Daemon."
He was correct, for Malkym was forced to watch as Daemon tripped the horse of the man he fought against next, sending the knight catapulting over the back of the horse and landing on his face. If Malkym had won, that would have been him.
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"Why on purpose?" Malkym turned, brushing the last of the sawdust from his armour as he turned to the entry way of the tent. Rhaenyra's arms were folded across her chest, violet eyes narrowed in annoyance.
"This is improper. You are here with no chaperone."
"You let him win."
"Aye." Malkym nodded at the Princess, before holding her favour out for her. "I am handing this back, for not winning. I apologise."
"You would have won." Rhaenyra muttered, her eyebrows furrowed as Malkym placed the crown of roses into her hands. "You were the better rider. That was clear to see and a hit like that should not have knocked you from your seat if your balance was good."
"I apologise for that, perhaps it was just not my day. Hand your favour to the winner." Malkym smiled at the woman, before the calls for her name were heard around the encampment. "You should go. They are calling for you."
"Keep the crown." Rhaenyra turned, placing it back into the man's hand and tightening his grip around it, squeezing gently. Malkym stared down at their entwined hands, a light blush hitting his cheeks though he hoped it was hidden. "A sign of my favour, my faith that you would have won and a promise not to burn you alive with Syrax."
"I'll keep it for a while then. I cannot have you walking into me again and then deciding that it was my fault." Malkym's lips twitched into a grin. "It would not be the best way to meet your dragon."
"You stopped in the middle of the corridor. That was your own fault."
"Details, Your Grace, details." Malkym laughed all the same, as Rhaneyra's grip on his fingers tightened before she let go. "You should go though. They are calling for you. I am sure that this about your sibling and your mother."
"It can wait for a moment. Labour is long." Rhaenyra sighed. "I will not be allowed in anyway, they will just make me listen to the screams and remind me that I will soon be in my mother's place."
"Well, regardless, you should go and be the first to congratulate your mother. It is no small feat to survive childbirth." Malkym nodded, before smiling. "I will still be here, guarding your favour, do not fret."
"I was not fretting." Rhaenyra laughed, before turning. "I will see you soon, Lord Malkym."
"That is an even worse title than ser." Malkym corrected, causing the girl to laugh once more as she left the tent.
Hiya,
Rhaenyra and Malkym are so soft for each other. I just love them to death, so have another chapter for them. We're getting into the fun stuff now, cause it's gonna get interesting from here on in. Just a reminder, there are a lot of little time jumps here and there, so the relationship might seem like it's progressing quickly.
Let me know what you think,
Love Li xx