Raiden's Storm (ASOIAF)

Outside the tourney grounds, a small army of gold cloaks stood and prevented every marked participant from leaving. Edric walked over after his speech, looking for recognisable dents in armour. During the melee, he let a certain group of suspicious people 'concede' rather than outright killing them.

"Why are you keeping everyone here?" One of the participants questioned. 

"You, you, you and you." Edric moved through the crowd, patting shoulders. "You're today's lucky winners. Off to the black cells you go."

"What? I did nothing wrong!"

"We'll see." Edric turned, seeing one of them sprint away from the crowd. "Talk about standing out."

The one closest to Edric grasped his hammer and aimed to hit him in the head while he wasn't looking...

Only for Edric to grab his hammer hand and twist it without even looking at him while sending a violent surge of lightning through his body.

Clang.

The hammer fell to the ground.

"My hand... my ha-hand!!!"

Edric raised a finger, and a streak of electricity went after the escaping suspect. He was shaken for a good second, which gave the gold cloaks time to apprehend him. The other two tried to fight as well, but it was all for nought as the gold cloaks detained them.

"An honest day's work." Edric rubbed his hands, turning to the other participants. "It was not my intention to keep you here for so long... but certain people just can't be trusted. I suspect that there might have been an odd group that participated with the intention of assassinating me. I will investigate this matter personally and see that the truth comes to light."

"Thank you for your time."

Since he was quite weary from the melee, Edric didn't intend to do much more for the night when he made it back to the Red Keep.

"It may be quite late, but how could you walk away without celebrating your grand victory over hundreds of men?" Renly questioned, patting his shoulder. "Besides, I know that you're starving from that performance. How could the King be hungry in his own city? A feast is in order!"

The hall cheered, and Edric chuckled as his stomach rumbled like an earthquake. 

"A feast might not be so bad, after all."

...

After getting out of his armour, taking a short bath, getting new drip and stuffing himself, Edric found the energy to party a little. The wine was staring at him from every corner like a toxic girlfriend, dragging him by the arm mentally. He took a deep breath and refrained - chugging on water instead. 

"Here are your fruits, Your Grace." Margaery stepped next to him at the head of the table, placing the plate on his table.

"You are most kind." Edric smiled slightly, glancing at her before turning to the fruits. This time, he didn't rush and enjoyed them thoroughly.

"That performance in the melee... was legendary, truly. Wounded and exhausted, you kept fighting on and on. I don't think I've ever seen a man half as determined to win."

Arya sipped on her water as she glared, knowing that Margaery was glazing this man. Indeed, his feats were beyond impressive - no one could deny that. However, she was going the extra mile to compliment him.

"It wouldn't look good on me if I called the Kingsguard lousy for losing and then did the exact same thing." Edric chuckled, having a sweet strawberry practically melt in his mouth. "I hope my fighting spirit passes on to the Kingsguard, and they show the Realm what they're really made of."

"I have no doubt that they will. Throwing and racing are... dubious competitions which require a certain bit of luck and fortune to win. The Kingsguard do not train to throw as far as they can nor race as fast as they can. They train to be warriors, the swords and shields that guard your life." Margaery spoke with an almost enchanting tone. "When it comes to fighting, they will not fail you."

"Fighting requires a certain bit of luck, too." Arya intercepted. "If two men of the same fighting ability duel each other ten times, the result will not always be the same."

Edric smiled slightly as that was something he'd say himself.

"Except my Kingsguard are just better so it's surely nothing to worry about." Edric shrugged with a jestful tone. "Tell Ser Loras if he fails me, I'll be exchanging his white cloak for a black one. That goes for all the Kingsguard."

"I'm sure it won't come to that." Margaery chuckled.

"He did lose the racing competition." Edric remarked, glancing at her. "He better come out looking like Ser Ryam Redwyne at his best tomorrow."

"It seems that much is at stake to have you so insistent on victory. It's a bit more than just pride and honour, am I wrong?"

"Quite perceptive of you. The thing is, I made a bet with Rhaerra regarding winning more competitions in the Great Tournament."

"... And what is at stake?"

"My old armour," Edric answered, shaking his head. "Though I have no use for it in battle anymore, it has become somewhat of a priceless artefact that I intend to keep. That is why they can't lose."

"I see." She smiled, nodding. "That was a rather risky bet to take."

"I have confidence in my guys."

"Would you mind leaving us, Lady Margaery?" Arya asked nicely with a smile. "I wish to discuss something with His Grace in private."

"Why, of course..." She courteously bowed her head with a smile. "I won't keep you."

As Margaery walked away, Edric turned to Arya.

"And what might that be?"

"Nothing~"

Arya grabbed one of Edric's apples and took a bite with a cheeky grin.

"You little devil." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "You just wanted to send Margaery away."

"She is a disingenuous person. Every time I see that smile, I feel like punching it."

"Would you even reach it?"

"And you... hmph." She pouted. "You seem to like her a lot even though you know she wants more than friendship."

"You worry too much. It really doesn't matter what Margaery wants. She could be thrice as determined, and it wouldn't change a thing because the decision will always be mine to make." 

"That isn't very convincing," Arya remarked, raising a slight eyebrow.

"I am not someone to break a promise, Arya. When I swear something - I mean it." Edric smiled reassuringly. "Unless you made me take back my words in the future, Margaery and I will never share a bed again."

"So... never."

"If that is your wish."

Edric shrugged, munching on a couple more fruits. A moment of silence washed over them as Arya looked at him. 

"... Say." Arya suddenly broke the silence. "If you were to win the joust, who would you choose as the Queen of Love and Beauty?"

"Margaery, obviously." Edric turned to her with a slight grin.

"That's a jest, right?"

"Is that even a question? You're smarter than that."

"You did wear her favour."

"That's why I'm saying that." Edric chuckled.

"You play too much." Arya crossed her arms, pouting. "You better win the joust to make up for it."

"Even if Rhaegar Targaryen, Ser Barristan in his prime, the Dragonknight and Ser Ryam Redwyne crashed the joust - I'd fell them all on my way to a decisive victory."

"And then?"

"I'd crown my beloved as the Queen of Love and Beauty, of course." 

"Mhm."

"Anyway." Edric stood up from his seat. "Since I'm here, I may as well talk to a few people."

...

"Well, would you look at that? You almost look like a proper lady."

Edric approached Asha Greyjoy, who was speaking with some nobles from the Iron Islands. One of three was Lord Baelor Blacktyde, who had his cloak pinned with a seven-pointed star, and another was Lord Tristifer Botley.

"Your Grace." Baelor Blacktyde bowed. "An honour to be in your presence... without the skull-crushing warhammer of yours swinging around, of course."

"That is well past us, I hope."

"It was inevitable with Balon's madness." Baelor Blacktyde sighed. "In truth, I respect you for putting him down before he caused any more harm to our people. This period of peace and change, true change, that you have created... it is refreshing. It seems as if you didn't just crush us into the gorund as your father had done, no, you raised us back off the ground and showed the way forward with an Ironborn leader that shares your vision."

"I'm glad to hear that someone is fond of the direction I seek to take." Edric smiled, firmly nodding as he toasted him with his water. "After all, if the seeds never change, then these barbaric ideals would carry onto the next generation and the next... until another rebellion breaks out and history repeats itself."

"Precisely." Baelor nodded while Asha Greyjoy frowned slightly. She was not too fond of hearing that her father's death was simply for the better good. 

"How long do you plan to keep my lady as a prisoner, Your Grace?" Tristifer Botley questioned with a smile. 

"It all depends on her, really." Edric shrugged his shoulders. "She is living every prisoner's dream as of now... but her knees seem very stubborn on bending." 

"Get out." She waved Tristifer and Baelor away. Afterwards, she turned to Edric. "I will admit that you've done well for my people. But..."

"But?"

"If I bend the knee, I want my birthright."

"I'm afraid you are in no position to be so demanding."

"... I would carry on Rodrik Harlaw's work." 

Edric raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm afraid I'm not the kind of person to undermine a man who has proven himself both loyal and competent. He will remain Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands and Lord of Pyke."

"What would be the use of me bending the knee, then?" Asha questioned. "Would you have me as a captain of one ship?"

"If you had bent initially, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Edric shrugged. "You could always stay by my side. There will surely come a time when your naval expertise could be used. Regarding lands... there is more to the world than the Iron Islands, I'm sure you know."

"The Greyjoys have ruled Pyke and the Iron Islands for hundreds of years..." Asha remained stubborn on the matter, only to be interrupted.

"So did the Targaryens rule most of the Seven Kingdoms for nearly three hundred - what of it? Who is King now? The Durrandons had been Storm Kings for thousands of years before Aegon's conquest. The Tyrells were just the stewards of Highgarden, yet Aegon raised them to Lords of the Reach, while the Florents had more royal blood and legitimacy. No doubt, Pyke belonged to someone else before the Greyjoys." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "You see, bloodline doesn't matter as much as absolute strength does. Conquest washes it all away, and you, along with your father, just happened to pick the wrong side."

"If anything, you should thank your Drowned God that I even chose to spare you and allow you to make something of yourself rather than rusting away in some dark cell."

Edric finished his water, put his cup down on the table, and looked at Asha Greyjoy one last time.

"Stop seeking the past; look towards the future."

After that, he decided to give his words time to sink as he walked away - yawning in the process.

'Man, I'm getting sleepy...'

~

After the melee, Rhaerra's group gathered in an inn during midnight, where they had essentially taken over with their numbers. 

"Baegel is very sorry. Baegel lost to Storm King."

"Don't be sorry." Rhaerra shook her head. "The truth is that he surpassed even my own expectations. None of you ever had a chance of beating him."

"..." Valaegor chuckled. "Well, that's quite grim."

"Except... in the beginning. If Baegel had not aided him, he would have been forced to use his magic more extensively, opening a path where he would have to rely solely on his physical gifts."

"Why did you help him, Baegel?" Daman questioned.

"Big Baegel wanted to fight Storm King in single combat. Everyone else was in the way."

"It's a matter of the past." Rhaerra crossed her arms. "I don't believe Edric will lead the Kingsguard in the team battles. Undoubtedly, he would wish them to redeem themselves from their previous failures during the tournament, but he can't accomplish that by bringing them victory himself on a golden platter."

"That makes things easy," Taelor remarked.

"I would not be so confident. The Kingsguard have all fought alongside each other in numerous battles and trained rigorously in the months leading up to this tournament. Since there are only five, I suspect that the Hound will be joining their team alongside one other..."

"Baegel would squash the Hound; I can beat the one with the Valyrian Steel sword myself-"

"Baegel did not walk away from this melee without any wounds," Rhaerra remarked, interrupting Valaegor.

"Big Baegel is more than strong enough to fight the dog." He huffed his chest.

"Listen carefully... victory here is of paramount importance. We cannot lose." Rhaerra emphasised. "Baegel, you will initially play a supporting role alongside Taelor from afar. You two will target the weakest links and dwindle their numbers. Gaegor, you will take the Hound directly, and Valaegor will counter Ser Loras' lance. Ballio, your goal will be to disarm Ser Arthur and take his Valyrian Steel blade away from him. As for Daman, you will be tasked with making adjustments should something unexpected happen."

 "As you wish, my lady."

"What of the other teams?" Daman questioned.

"I am confident in your ability to best them."

~

[Edric's POV, 1st]

Since the team battles were seven a side, I had quite the decision to make. Of course, my Kingsguard was missing one person and Ser Barristan was all the way in Slaver's Bay. Unless I learned to teleport from one side of the known world to the other within the next few minutes, he wouldn't be participating.

The Hound was an obvious pick, clear as day... but the seventh? Not so much.

The number of people who put their names forward was quite vast, from those in my direct service to the likes of Garlan Tyrell, who was technically on another team but was more than willing to switch to my side. A wide selection of Vale knights, Blackfish, Lyn Corbary, Ser Robert, even my brother-in-law Mychel Redfort...

I won't lie, Garlan Tyrell probably would be the best choice in terms of raw ability. That man is a masterful swordsman. Even so... I wanted to pick one of my day ones, and I wasn't thinking Robert. Besides, swords aren't too useful against fully-armoured opponents. I need some serious muscle to handle Baegel and the rest.

"Choose the person who has been the most loyal to you." Raiden Shogun advised, glancing at Brienne. "The person you trust most to grant you victory, no matter the challenges that may rise in between."

We were of the same mind on this matter, it seems.

"Brienne of Tarth."

"Me, Your Grace?" Brienne didn't look like she believed it herself, blinking. She looked around and saw the other people who competed for the spot. "Surely there... are other, better options."

"I did not choose you on a whim, Brienne." I shook my head. "I chose you because I believe in your ability to win. I've seen it so often that I wonder if the world is blind or ignorant of how great a warrior you could be? Wash away your doubt, Brienne, be confident... you are more than worthy. Show them what you are capable of and prove me right before the watchful eyes of the Realm."

"..." She took a deep breath, bending the knee. "Yes, Your Grace. I will bring honour and victory to you."

"Good." I smiled reassuringly, firmly nodding. "I know you won't fail."

~

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