AN :
The story needs more power stones...
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
( Jaime Lannister POV )
"I've been holding back." Mace Tyrell grinned at Jaime, and Jaime grinned right back. Cersei had not been half as much a sneak as she thought she was moving about camp earlier, and Jaime had followed her right up until he caught the tail end of Mace arguing with his mother. The very idea of throwing a fight like that, being told to by someone like Lady Olenna, it galled him.
Jaime hadn't particularly liked the way the Tyrell boy fought, all basic manuevers and strength and reach, but he still didn't deserve to be forced to give up the fight like a craven. Jaime had resolved to challenge him instead of the Fossoway boy at once. It would be a better fight anyway, and from the roaring cheers of the crowd, they loved it too.
The rest of the boys turned to each other, not so eager to start their own scrum when the two of them were fighting, but Jaime paid them no mind. They simply didn't matter, it would be either him or the older boy in front of him who walked away victorious this day.
"Oh, have you now?" Jaime bantered back as he assumed a ready position, his arming sword raised to his side. "I suppose flailing your arms around and happening to knock your opponents out would count as holding back."
Mace snorted, taking a lower guard himself. "As if tripping idiots over the fence is any better." despite the harsh words they were exchanging, Mace Tyrell looked more relieved than anything. Jaime could certainly sympathize.
That didn't stop him from rushing in mercilessly, right from the start, thrusting straight in towards the Tyrell Heir's exposed shoulder with the tip of his padded sword. Even if it didn't knock the boy out of the fight, there was only so much you could pad the tip, and it would hurt like a thorn bitten into the flesh if he landed it.
Unfortunately, Mace Tyrell apparently meant it when he'd said he was holding back, because the older boy brought his shield up like lightning, knocking Jaime's blade away and stepping forward into him with his own thrust.
The older boy had far more power behind it, and Jaime knew at once he couldn't block it the same way that Mace had. Instead, he was forced to twist, bending his torso such that it only sailed past him rather than striking him dead on, but putting him off his footing, a situation he only remedied by kicking his opponent's shin with his foot, giving Jaime the momentum to scramble backward and regain his footing.
Mace hissed at the kick to his shin but seemed to suffer no severe damage from it through his gambeson, instead, he charged after Jaime immediately, and if Jaime had not been so quick on his feet it would have been over right there, because the Tyrell heir brought his arming sword around viciously from the side.
Jaime had to use his shield at an angle to deflect it up over his head because there was no way he would dodge the cut as he had the thrust. The padded sword sailed over him as Jaime desperately went in for another thrust himself, his sword once again blocked by Mace's shield, though it at least pushed the boy back enough to put some distance between them.
Jaime's blood thundered in his ears and his breath came fast and ragged.
No more than twelve seconds had passed in their exchange, but Jaime had been on the back foot for nearly all of them. Mace Tyrell wasn't as fast as him and didn't have his instinct, but he was very competent in those basic forms he was using, and as long as he was fast enough to meet all of Jaime's blows head-on, there was no way that Jaime would be able to overcome his strength and reach with speed alone.
He needed to out-think Mace Tyrell, and for that he needed time.
"Heh, you're not bad at all." Jaime smiled, "Only because you're older though."
"Pheh" Mace snorted, chuckling as he raised his sword to point straight at Jaime. "You're quick on your feet, I'll give you that, but it's more than speed makes a warrior."
"Certainly, but far as I can tell you've got the rest of it, and you're not a warrior either."
Mace grinned. "I'll knock your teeth out for that. You're young enough they'll grow back right?" He suddenly sprung forward, swinging right for Jaime's jaw, but Jaime was able to duck under it. He had been given enough time to think by the brief banter, and he recalled that kicking Mace's shin was quite easy. The boy was so tall and lanky comparatively that he had to reach much farther down to protect his feet.
Knowing that, Jaime's sword arm struck out like lightning and his padded blade struck Mace in the ankle, eliciting a yelp from the boy and making him stumble.
Not far enough though that he didn't slam Jaime in the face with his shield. In his haste to strike, Jaime had forgotten it, and he felt pain shoot up his face as he felt a crack in his nose. Jaime was knocked back stumbling, his eyes shut and his face on fire. He barely managed to stay on his feet by catching his sword on the ground and bending his knees to dull his momentum. He could taste copper in his mouth as he dragged himself back up, opening his eyes. Something warm was rolling down his chin, and he could tell his nose was bent at an angle.
What had Uncle Tygett said to do when your nose was broken? Drag it back into place? Jaime winced as he reached up to grab it, feeling the pain as it scorched at him, but though tears formed in the corners of his eyes, Jaime wrenched it back into place, gasping as he did so.
"Well…" Jaime spit out a bit of blood from his mouth. "Well struck, Tyrell."
"Same to you Lannister." Mace winced as he turned to face Jaime. His ankle wasn't broken like Jaime's nose, but he was clearly in pain. Jaime had struck him hard enough to leave a nasty bruise for certain, even through the Gambeson. "I'm a prettier sight than you now though."
Jaime made the mistake of snorting, only to feel a bit more blood rush down his face. He shook his head quickly. His nose still hurt like the hells. "You could break my nose thirty times and I'd still look better than you." He grinned madly as he rushed in at the older boy, managing to catch him off guard this time. Mace was slower with his shield now, and it was with raw aggression that Jaime went at him. His heart thundered and his breath came hot and violent as he battered at Mace's shield, only for Mace to reach around with his sword arm, grabbing around Jaime's shoulder with his better reach and dragging him in toward Mace's chest.
Jaime knew he would lose then. A sword fight was one thing, but a grapple? Uncle Tygett had taught him well enough that being grappled by a bigger man was a certain defeat, and Mace Tyrell was quite a bit bigger than him.
He wouldn't give up so easily though, and he immediately began to strike at the Reachlord, bashing with his pommel and slamming with his shield, kicking and thrashing and trying to break the hold, but Mace began in turn to punch him in his stomach with the tip of his heater shield, driving it into the Gambeson like a spearpoint.
Jaime held on and kept thrashing him the best he could. He beat at his shoulders and even managed to knock him in the lip with the side of his sword, but the air kept getting knocked out of him, and he knew he was losing. The whole way down he was fighting, but he knew from the start he was done.
Eventually, he just fell. His knees gave out, the air forced out of his lungs and what felt like a very nasty bruise forming on his belly, Jaime Lannister fell to the ground and slumped backward, panting like a dog for air he looked up at the sky, with the colorful banners of the tourney waving in the air above, and the white puffy clouds high above them.
His nose still burned like a house on fire, and his hair was covered in mud, but somehow, this all felt just as right as his earlier victories did. He had chosen to fight Mace properly and had not let the boy lose on purpose. He had fought with honor against a stronger foe and ultimately lost. Yet now he still felt eager, his heart thrilled in his chest as he grinned past the blood on his lips.
His eyes turned down towards his victorious opponent.
Well, victory in this case was a measure of inches. Mace Tyrell looked a fine mess, leaning on his sword and panting, Jaime had busted his lip when he'd struck it with his sword, and it was bleeding purple and swollen. He had surely battered the Tyrell heir on his path to the ground, and Mace winced as he moved next to him. "You alright there Lannister?" the older boy asked, his lip bleeding down his chin onto his green and yellow gambeson. "Thought you might be soft in the guts."
"I'm not soft anywhere." Jaime spat back, feeling the urge to laugh. He looked up at the older boy, with his busted lip and limping step, and felt that this was someone who truly got it."You look like shit." Jaime grinned. "And call me Jaime."
"Mace then." The Tyrell heir said, grimacing. "And you look worse. I think I hear your sister cursing me from the stands." the older boy offered him a hand up, pushing his padded mitt over Jaime's chest.
Jaime laughed past the blood in his throat and took the offered hand up, staggering to his feet. "She does that," he said, limping along as Mace helped him to the arena fence. Jaime chanced to glance over at the scrum the rest of the boys had gotten into as he pulled himself painfully over the wooden frame out of the tourney field. "Think you'll still win?" He asked the Tyrell boy.
"Of course!" Mace replied cheerfully. "Just, after I catch my breath for a moment," he said, leaning against the fence as the last few boys whittled themselves down. "It'll be easy."
Mace Tyrell did not in fact win the tourney. Tanton Fossoway, of all people, had managed to come out of the scrum mostly unscathed. Jaime thought it was probably because everyone else had decided he was the weakest and thus to save him for last.
Whatever the reason though, he was still a good enough fighter that Mace, battered as he was, didn't last that long. Jaime thought it a bit unfair that probably the weakest of the remaining squires made it through. Especially when Ser Barristan Selmy himself came out and knighted the boy at the end of the Tourney.
Still, by then Jaime was rather distracted by Cersei's fussing over him and the probing questions of the Grand Maester who his father had somehow convinced to look over his broken nose.
Overall, Jaime came away from the tournament bruised, bleeding, and looking forward to the next one.
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