Throne Room

Aerion snorted, ever the fan of a good quip.

In stride now and eager to repay in kind the man that had ordered his torture, this time Ser Symon deflected Maekar's blade down to spark against the stone floor, before bringing the pommel of his own sword up into Maekar's nose. Blood spurted from the bastard's nose as it broke.

(Maekar takes another Light Wound)

Maekar spins to avoid the vertical upward slash of the blade that followed the pommel strike, swinging Dark Sister low and behind him. The Valyrian steel blade slices effortlessly through the mail where Symon's plate breeches tapered off, cutting through flesh and deep into the muscle. Buckler goes to one knee in pain as blood pours through the wound to coat his white plate.

(Symon takes a Heavy Wound)

Buckler held onto his blade with a death grip as Maekar's unarmored foot bounced harmlessly off the steel (likely doing more harm than good), bringing it up to block Dark Sister. The blades became locked, both men pushing against one another. A maimed leg and a missing hand made for an even contest.

Maekar may have been strong but he did not have two hands to work with with. Ser Symon pushed Maekar to the side with his spare hand as he threw his weight forward, sending the king tumbling forward and allowing the knight to stand up again. The young man's face had grown paler from the blood streaming from his hemorrhaging leg, but he intended to die on his feet if that was the gods' will.

Even wounded, likely mortally, Ser Symon displayed the preternatural skill that had earned him his white cloak in the first place. As Maekar charged, he switched to a left-hand grip, the young knight's ambidexterity catching the would-be king off guard as his blows were parried and counter-attacks began to rain down from awkward angles.

"His Grace placed one of our oaths above all the rest: to obey his commands." he spat, blood pouring from his leg and each breath a fresh jolt of pain in his mangled chest. "I upheld my oath until the end, but could not protect him from himself. My only failure was not killing your whore on the spot and you with her!"

Ser Symon turned his head to make sure an innocent bystander would not be harmed by their duel, showing more concern for their safety than the man sworn to protect their well-being. For his trouble, an overhead strike from Maekar saw Dark Sister lodged in off-hand shoulder. As Maekar yanked the blade out, leaving the arm hanging limp, it was clear the white knight would not survive his injuries. Yet, even mortally wounded, he remained on his feet through will and certainty of his conviction alone. It was nothing short of miraculous. A few anonymous voices in the crowd could even be heard cheering on the young knight's perseverance. Whatever this fight proved through the gods above, it was clear Ser Symon Buckler would be remembered well and his tale told far and wide, likely in song.

(Symon takes an Average Wound)

He does so, though by the time Ser Symon's head strikes the stone floor a bard in the crowd had already come up with 4 verses for "The White Knight and the Black Dragon."

There was silence in response.

////////////

After arriving in King's Landing, the first stop for Princess Daenya and her escort was to go to the throne room in the Red Keep.

Daenya entered wearing an elegant yellow dress that teased at the curves that had formed in the last months. The colour contrasted well with her dark tan, which in turn was also offset by the many golden jewels and earrings she wore. On her feet were yellow sandals and she had a small tiara in her hair, which was now dyed black.

Daenya gave a small curtsy, just enough to show a little cleavage.

"Lord Reyne, is it?" She said with a smile, feigning at forgetfulness. "As well as could; though no doubt you have heard of the clash Lord Baratheon's men had with the Dornish."