Chapter 107: Battle of the Gullet (Part 4)

                                    

                                          
The Narrow Sea...
The sound of clanging swords and the screech of metal filled the air as Aegon and Daeron Velaryon engaged in combat, their swords clashing as they fought to the bitter end. Although Daeron was older and more experienced, he found himself at a serious disadvantage as Aegon proved to be a powerful and fast opponent, overwhelming him with his relentless attacks. His strength and speed were too much for Daeron to keep up with, and he was pushed further and further back. Aegon relentlessly attacked Daeron, driving him into a corner with a barrage of strikes. The two clashed, their swords locked in a deadlock while they struggled for control, with neither side giving an inch. Suddenly, Aegon delivered a vicious headbutt to Daeron's face, causing blood to spurt from his nose as the bones snapped. Without missing a beat, Aegon kicked him hard in the chest, sending Daeron tumbling down the steps and onto the upper deck of the Triarchy vessel. "This is the best you can do? My brothers hit harder than this!"
"Gah! Damn boy!" Daeron struggled to regain his footing, blood streaming down his face.
Aegon executed a front flip as he leaped from the ship's helm, gracefully touching down on the deck below. His movements were fluid and precise. As a prince of House Targaryen, he was a dragonrider and a warrior, possessing an impressive array of talents. However, what set Aegon apart from Daeron was his years of rigorous training under the tutelage of the Lykirī Mēre's finest assassins, honing his abilities to read his opponents' every move and exploit their weaknesses to his advantage.
"You allowed House Strong's bastards to usurp power and seize away our rightful place. I will not allow our bloodline to end like this! I want you all dead!"
As the battle raged on, the combatants' surroundings became a blur, their focus solely on each other. The ship rocked violently beneath their feet, the sound of splintering wood and crashing waves adding to the chaos of their duel.
"And? Once I'm dead, what will you do?"
"I will rebuild House Velaryon, purifying it with true Valyrian blood!"
"You fucking hypocrite! If you wish to rebuild House Velaryon, then why are you fighting alongside the Triarchy?!"
"I... You... SHUT UP!!"
Daeron's swordsmanship skills had become increasingly predictable, indicating that Aegon's words had deeply gotten under his skin. Every move Daeron made was easily predictable, allowing Aegon ample time to deftly sidestep his strikes with the fluidity and grace of a skilled Braavosi water dancer. The adrenaline coursing through his veins heightened his senses, allowing him to anticipate his every move. As Daeron exerted more energy into his strikes, exhaustion began to take its toll on him. On the other hand, Aegon effortlessly sidestepped to the left and right, skillfully evading his strikes. With a fierce growl, Daeron lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air with a newfound speed. But Aegon was one step ahead, effortlessly parrying each strike with a fluid grace. His movements were like a dance, his body flowing seamlessly from one position to another. With a graceful leap, Aegon vaulted over Daeron's head, landing lightly on his feet behind him. Daeron's frustration grew as he realized that his opponent was not only evading his attacks but also effortlessly countering them.
As the battle raged on, Daeron's exhaustion became more apparent. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his muscles burned with fatigue. On the other hand, Aegon seemed unphased by the physical exertion, his movements remaining fluid and precise. With a sudden burst of energy, Daeron launched himself at Aegon, hoping to catch him off guard. But Aegon effortlessly sidestepped, causing Daeron's strike to miss its mark, leaving him vulnerable and off balance.
Seizing the opportunity, Aegon swiftly closed the distance between them with a calculated and ruthless efficiency, his blade poised to strike again. In one fluid motion, his blade sliced through the air. His strike was swift and precise, aimed directly at the vulnerable tendons in the popliteal fossa, the hollow space behind the knees. Aegon's years of training and experience had honed his skills to perfection, and his strike landed with devastating accuracy. The impact of Aegon's attack reverberated through Daeron's body, causing a searing pain to shoot up his legs. The tendons in his popliteal fossa were instantly severed, leaving him unable to support his own weight. As if in slow motion, Daeron's legs gave way beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground in a heap of agony.