Chapter 12: A Trial of Combat

[BONUS] (1/2). Last one to go. Do you guys want Balerion the Black Dread to be alive?
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"Dearest sister, have you decided on a champion yet?"

Her jaw dropped as if she had been slapped. She quickly recovered though.

"No?..."

I chuckled.

"Well, them. Using my authority as the future king, I proclaim myself as Princess Rhaenerya of House Targaryen's Champion."

I turned around to look at Ser Criston Cole. A warm, kind small forming onto my visage.

"Go, wear your armor... choose your weapon and enjoy your remaining time."

Then I looked at my father.

"Would you do me the honor of being the announcer, your grace?"

Viserys nodded. His expression was filled with excitement as he strolled over to me occasionally glancing at the flaming sword in my hands.

A guard rushed towards me.

"My prince, do you need some assistance with armor?"

Raising my eyebrows lightly, I denied it. "Actually..." It was getting pretty hot due to the sword in my hand.

"Call a few maids would you? I want to be stripped."

The man dumbly nodded.

"Yes, your grace."

I watched as he left the area. Meanwhile, I glanced at my sword, I could feel my Blood Energy continuously being used... which is probably the source of this sword's power...

'Blood...'

I heard the voice in my head. However, this time I knew it was not the sound of my urges. It was the blade's sound. It wanted to continuously bathe in blood.

As I stopped supplying my blood energy, the voice increased. 'Blood... blood.... blood!'

Hmmm.... under the curious gazes of everyone, I walked towards the giant black box that had a beautiful scabbard made of silver, sheepskin, and dragon scales.

'Blood.... blood...bloo-'

Instantly, I put the sword into the scabbard. The flames completely diminished and the voice in my head crying for blood disappeared.

Oh? Interesting. Is this scabbard etched with magic? I touched it lightly, trying to connect my Blood Energy but for some reason, it constantly repelled it.

I did not really know what to make of that. I guess, it is not meant to be connected to me. Probably, my blood energy is too weak or it is not compatible with magic in general... or maybe... these are runes.

In books I had read before, I knew runes had the power to seal, compel and sometimes even release.

It is said that the Wall in the North has been strengthened and created due to the usage of runes to repel the vile magic beyond.... the nefarious army of the dead, they call... Others.

Gulping lightly, I looked at my new sword with a newfound light. There is a world beyond Westeros and I have a gut feeling it is not that friendly.

Shaking my head, I glanced at the now maids coming near me as they slowly stripped my top.

I smirked before putting the sword away.

"So, what do you think?"

The small council members all gasped at the sight as the maids stared at me, particularly my chest. One of them blushed.

"It is an honor, Prince Baelon."

I nodded in response and looked at the scabbard in my hands. It was elegant, majestic, and beautiful.

"It is indeed."

I patted the scabbard softly before turning towards my audience as the maids were finished stripping me and tying my long silver hair into braids that were tied into a bun.

Long hair, is just infuriating in battle sometimes. Holding the scabbard at my waist, I walked towards Criston who had now changed into better armor and had a huge mace in his hand.

This fucker is going crazy and that is not to be doubted. An estranged smile crept onto my face. I have given him enough mercy, now it is time to begin.

King Viserys came in between both of us, and he announced loudly to everyone.

"In the sight of Dragons and Men... we gather around to acetate the guilts of Ser Cristan Cole. May the Gods look upon us with mercy and truth... Let the fight begin!!!"

As soon as the horns played by the side. Criston's mace swung towards my cheek. I dipped instantly.

Then I removed Blackfyre from it's scabbard before grabbing the hilt of my blade I was in full control of it. I could feel its power within my grasp.

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Criston's mace once again slammed against the ground with a loud clang once again missing me.

With a flick of my torso, I jumper into the air, using that as an opportunity, Criston's mace moved towards me but for naught... because I stepped on the mace instead... as if walking over it and swung my blade forward breaking the chains apart.

One thing I learned about Valyrian Steel today is that it is sharp... and light as fuck. There is almost no weight to it.

A man with a Valyrian Steel blade was a horrifying killing machine, massacring thousands. It made me respect my bloodline even more...

Targaryens are supposed to have been the weakest of the Dragonlord families. I can not even begin to imagine what kind of monsters the others were.

Maybe there were blades better than Valyrian Steel. I wish to visit the ruins of Old Valyria, my true home once at least in my lifetime.

There are so many mysteries around it, maybe even more valyrian steel, dragon eggs with potential more than Balerion the Black Dread and even maybe answers to my condition.

A shiver went across my body. Although a single second had passed, my mind had already done a lot of thinking.

I focussed on Criston for the moment, who stood there with his arms wide open. I quickly placed my foot on his chest and shoved him into the ground.

My blade then slashed off his arm and before he could even scream out loud, black flames burst from it.

With a clean cut, he was armless, kicked his burning arm away as a smirk formed on my visage.

The knight in question collapsed on the ground kneeling on a single leg, groaning in pain.

Right now, he must be feeling first-hand pain from Valyrian Steel and not just any... the sharpest and most exquisite one.

He tried to get up, but for some reason, his leg did not seem to work properly. He looked at me as if begging.

However, I had no intention of doing that. For I could hear the voice again.

'Blood...blood... blood...'

I raised my blade high above my head, before plunging it downwards, aiming for his neck...

Allicent by the side of father screamed loudly.

"NO!"

As you wish good mother. I twisted my blade at the last moment, piercing it into his stomach, ripping it onwards slowly... slowly towards his rib cage where I could feel his heart beating.

At that same time, I felt my own urge for blood increase. This battle was making me lustful for some.

My smile widened, as the blade neared his heart. I could feel happiness from it, finally bathing in blood after years.

I whispered softly as I slowly withdrew my blade from the wound. It was not over yet.

"Ser Corpseton, I am sorry for not being able to show you my dragon and crisping you with help of it... but I can allow you a few more moments to live... any last words?"

See Criston vomited blood and everything he consumed before it, he was close to death due to blood loss.

His eyes had already dimmed.

"Fuck... Targaryens... Rhaenyra.... spoil... whore.... bhastard...!"

The last words of a vengeful dying man. Ugly as I thought they would be.

"So be it. I shall have you reduced to crisps and body hung from a pike at the gate of the Red Keep. That shall be the last service House Targeryan will ever ask you off. A message to our enemies-"

I twisted the blade inside, zigzagging it... destroying his bones to crumbs.

Criston tried screaming in agony while I pulled my blade out and stabbed it back in again but all that escaped his mouth was blood.

The blade was dripping with red, with every thrust and stab. I was surprised at how much blood he had. A waste.

Soon a black flame burst from my blade, like it was trying to consume his insides. His face was pale as a sheet of paper as flames stroked his cheeks, wiping a drop of blood away into vapor.

"You deserve nothing less than this... Oathbreaker."
I felt something within me that I never felt before; an overwhelming sense of satisfaction that came from burning him.

Maybe the sword's feelings resonated with me. This is dangerous, fortunately, I am quite in control of my senses and desires.

Placing Blackfyre back into it's scabbard. I gazed at where Criston's body once upon a time was burning.

That was my first official kill. A kill I did voluntarily rather than subconsciously.

The black flames had devoured him raw, true to my word. Even ashes did not dare to remain as they burnt.

They vanished completely into smoke. I shrugged.
"Well, I guess I should go now."

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