(Tides and Canvas) Chapter 13: A Dreaded Scales (Patreon)

Chapter 13: A Dreaded Scales

108 AC, Driftmark

Laenor Velaryon was riding atop his steed. He could feel the wind’s pressure on his face from the sheer speed he was going, despite wearing a helm. As loath as he was to admit it, he was having some fun with this. He was a good rider and quite skilled, but if he were honest, his performance wasn’t fully due to his skill at riding a horse. It was the challenge that he was relishing in. What had started as ways to improve his odds at winning had slowly turned into something that he was learning to enjoy more than the contest of martial might.

He had… refined things. A deeper saddle, which was slightly firmer at the back, so that when he leaned forward into the charge, his body settled into place. His legs pressed against the stirrups at a slightly altered angle, which makes most of the impact's energy travel through him. There was also the padding beneath his armour to absorb shocks whenever a lance hit him. Even the lance was different, with the centre of balance near his hand, making it easier to control and aim. Alyn had done some great work with these modifications, especially given the short timeframe, and these small improvements had helped him immensely for the duration of the tourney.

Laenor released an exhale and looked at his opponent. He had become something of a crowd favourite as a Mystery Knight, especially so after unhorsing Harwin Strong. He was sure that his father was fanning the rumours regarding the Knight of the Tree and Stars, and if he were honest, Laenor had made a tidy sum of gold betting on himself during the joust. He hadn’t risked doing the same with this one, though, for one, the odds were certainly not as good given his newfound popularity as a Mystery Knight, and also, he was not sure how he would fare against his current opponent.

For it was none other than Gwayne Hightower, the Queen’s brother. He was not sure if it would be best to simply lose against him, though, given the gleam in his father’s eyes before riding out, told him all he needed to know. Corlys Velaryon wish to see Otto Hightower’s son humbled for his schemes in weakening their house by advising the king not to interfere in the Stepstones for years.

His eyes snapped forward, and he peered at the knight approaching him. He was obviously aiming directly towards Laenor’s chest, as he had during their previous tilts. His technique and reach were by far superior to Laenor’s, though he was straightforward in the attack. Perhaps he found tricks to be dishonourable or felt as if he didn’t need them against Laenor. That did not matter, for all Laenor needed was one good hit.

Just as the lance approached, Laenor drifted his own a fraction to the side, not aiming at the centre of the shield but the sides, generating a force that would force Ser Gwayne to turn, which ensured that the incoming lance would be met with the strongest point of Laenor’s reinforced shield. Its design did take more than a few iterations, but he found that using a two-layered shield connected with a web of waxed slim cords to be very effective in a joust, redirecting the energy of an incoming lance surprisingly well.

Finally, the impact came, and despite the shield’s design, which lessened the blow, Laenor felt his hand tremble as the Hightower knight’s lance broke against it, which came before his own, given the man’s superior reach. Yet, he remained stable, his customised saddle stopping him from moving too much, allowing him to focus on his own thrust, which cut landed cleanly, given the feeling. He did not need to look back to know that his opponent had been unhorsed.

He smiled widely as he turned and saw it with his own eyes, though no one could see from his helm. Instead of outwardly celebrating, he jumped down calmly from his horse. He walked slowly towards the knight, who was scowling at him, “That was quite the trick, Ser.”

Ser Gwayne was obviously doing his best not to call it dishonourable, though Laenor cared very little about such things. Honestly, coming up with his… tricks was the true highlight of this competition, where the jousts were made up of just seeing them in action, after calculating their effectiveness in his own time. Without them, the contest would have likely felt… tasteless, at least to him.

Still, seeing that it wouldn’t do to earn the ire of the son of the Hand of the King when he eventually unveiled his face, though he wasn’t particularly holding his breath, he decided to answer cordially, “Perhaps, but perhaps tricks are all that one has to come out victorious against a stronger opponent, Ser Gwayne.”

The man, despite his obvious distaste for the trick, chuckled as he saw the compliment for what it truly was, “I suppose that I did feel overconfident near the end. I will admit to being surprised that you held on after my earlier hits.”

Laenor inwardly winced at that. While he held up mostly because of his customised gear, his shoulder did hurt quite a lot. He instinctively raised his hand towards his shoulder, and saw his opponent smile at that, “At least you are not invincible. You are talented, that I shall admit, and young, given your frame and your voice. However, I am afraid that you shall soon taste defeat, for your opponents will only be stronger in the next days of the tourney.”

He nodded in return and simply shrugged, “Then I shall be defeated, and will then reveal my face to the world. Or perhaps the gods will favour me, and the world shall only see my face when I crown my Queen of Love and Beauty. Now, onto the matter of the ransom.”

The Hightower knight visibly winced at that, “Must you?”

It was not hard to see why this would be embarrassing. It wasn’t exactly a matter of gold or anything of the like, but mostly whose favour he held, for it was his sister’s, the Queen. Normally, taking the Queen’s favour wouldn’t exactly be a good thing for a mystery knight to do, especially in front of her husband and her father, the king and his hand respectively, but he looked at his father and saw the anticipation on the man’s face.

He suppressed the urge to slump and sigh at the situation before nodding, “I am afraid that I must.”

The knight huffed before removing his sister’s favour and handing it over to Laenor. The crowd cheered at that, and he walked towards the royal family and bowed, seeing the Hightower Queen’s thunderous expression on her face. Though given the proud look on his father's face, who nodded at him, all but confirming that he considered Laenor’s performance to be sufficient, and for their agreement to be complete.

The young Velaryon released a breath of relief, for as enjoyable as he found the entire affair, it would have been ultimately pointless without him getting Castle Driftmark. That alone made the entire trouble of probably the Queen personally trying to look for the ‘Knight of the Tree and Stars’ herself for the slight he probably made by taking her favour.

It was a good place to lose as well; Laenor didn’t think that his tricks would hold up against knights who would take him more seriously than Ser Gwayne, who had underestimated him greatly. After all, there was still a large gap in experience, and most importantly, strength, between them.

Others would be wary, and the Queen would likely offer a great deal of gold to whoever would defeat the mystery knight who had brought her and her brother dishonour. Hopefully, his father would arrange for him to get a good opponent, one who would probably not be paid by the Queen, and he would likely lose, and then he would likely be knighted.

Alas, just as he prepared to leave, happy with his victory, a voice spoke up that silenced the entire crowd, “Perhaps, now that you have claimed the favour of the Queen… it is time you prove yourself worthy of that of the Crown Princess.”

He turned woodenly towards its source, knowing whose it was, yet dreading it, nonetheless, for it belonged to Rhaenyra Targaryen. Laenor did not know why he felt like this, but from the moment he saw the princess, he felt an impending sense of doom. It was strange that it was a girl of eleven who made him feel this way, and yet it did. Every instinct told Laenor to stay away from that girl, and they had not steered him wrong yet.

Alas, for the last few days, he noticed the princess’s gaze on him, both when he rode in the tilts and when he did not. He did not know what it was, but she would not leave him out of her sight if she could, and kept looking at him with fascination, and he had felt unsettled by it.

Yet, here she was, knowing speaking of him earning her favour, something that the many young heirs of the realms could not manage, “You have done well, mystery knight, but victories earned thus far are not enough to claim greatness. If you would have my favour, then you shall ride again tomorrow, and you shall do so against my sworn shield, Ser Criston Cole.”

Every instinct that Laenor had wanted him to refuse, and the murderous glint in the Kingsguard’s eyes as he looked at him did not fill him with confidence. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t exactly refuse the daughter of the king before the man himself.

And so, not having a choice, and despite wincing internally, Laenor bowed, “It would be my honour to face a member of the Kingsguard, let alone a knight of Ser Criston’s renown.”

The crown princess frowned at this reply, then leaned back to her seat, seemingly satisfied, finally allowing him to jump onto his horse and trot away from the tourney grounds. Laenor ignored everyone’s concerned expression and simply rode away, towards the beach, much like he did many times alongside Laena, deciding that he needed to clear his head.

Gods be damned!

This day had been so close to being perfect. He had almost gained everything that he needed, but it would probably make him earn the enmity of every single man who wished to court the princess, which was any unmarried man in the realm.

The thought of facing Criston Cole made him feel a sense of danger and urgency. Something about the man felt dangerous in some way. Had the Princess asked him to kill Laenor? He certainly hoped not, and yet why did his instinct scream at him not to face the Kingsguard?

The young Velaryon took off his helmet, which made him feel very stifled, and threw away his shield. He had left his lances back in the tourney grounds, though he found himself not caring much. It was a true conundrum, how the actions of a single girl could make him react like this, and yet, something deep inside him told him that it was appropriate, nonetheless.

As he started into the distance and as the sun approached the sea, he found himself feeling a sudden exhaustion, and his eyes felt strangely heavier than normal.

The world changed then. He did not feel as if he were lying in the sand, as he was a moment prior, but in deep waters. He felt himself suddenly dragged away by its tides, the stars changing with every movement. He looked at one who looked strangely like the Kingsguard that he would face soon in a joust, violently beating men with a Morningstar with a bloodthirsty smirk on his face.

Before he could try to look into more details, he was pulled away, as he saw two great dragons circling one another, burning everything around them with green and black flames. Laenor tilted his head in confusion, though he was pulled away by the tides once more. For a moment, he looked in the air and saw the giant face of a dragon, which made up half of the night’s sky. It was beating its wings in a strange rhythm that almost sounded like music... a song, maybe.

He did not have the time to appreciate it, for the dragon quickly dove towards him, becoming larger and larger. Its maw was wide open and released jet black flames that were impossibly large. Not seeing any way to escape, Laenor closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain, only to open his eyes as he released a loud gasp.

He stood up, his heart beating violently, and the young Velaryon needed to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. He looked at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set, not knowing how to explain what he had just experienced.

The entire situation made him feel completely out of sorts, but he felt the urge to do…something. More out of instinct than anything, Laenor removed his armour, which he put in a bag, and he climbed atop his horse, commanding it to return to High Tide.

Thankfully, no one truly noticed his arrival, or if they did, they didn’t care. It wasn’t exactly out of the norm for Laenor to return at strange hours, with strange devices to tinker with, most of which were made by the forge in Castle Driftmark.

He did not speak to anyone and instead walked in silence towards his workshop, taking out many of his supplies and dyes. After all, he felt the urge to paint something… anything, with a passion that he had not truly felt since the day he made his father’s painting of the Merling King. He did not know yet what would come of it, but something inside him told him that, perhaps, this would shed some light as to what happened.

And as evening turned to night, Laenor Velaryon continued to draw, feeling calmer with every stroke of his brush on the canvas, calmer than he had since the joust and the mess that followed it. For his mind was focused on distilling his dream into a painting, where its beauty would cement the warnings that lay within, before they slipped away like mist beneath the morning sun.

AN: This story is still relatively new, so if you'd like me to continue it, please let me know in the comments what you think of the rewrite so far.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't know much about the mechanics of jousting, but this is what I managed to come up with with my research, so I hope it came out all right. Anyway, I wanted to show a bit about how Laenor approached jousting, which is also consistent with his character, where he would make up for a lack of experience and strength, given his age, with tricks that he learned while studying, and gears that he optimised specifically for jousts. Anyway, you probably realised the implications of Rhaenyra's challenge and the consequences of her attention on Laenor in general. I do have plans for the visions, which will be explored a bit in the future, but I thought that it would be nice to have it all tied up to his painting. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.