[center][h3][i]The Grand Melee[/i][/h3][/center]

Petyr looked around at the many other fighters in all along the sides of the melees arena. He growled as he noticed more than a few had brought their horses, rich nobles no doubt getting an edge on their opposition. He noticed one such man was none other than the King himself, Jon Targaryen. Former Lord of the Kights Watch, leader of the fight against the White Walkers. A Living Legend the King was. Even Petyr's father begrudgingly admitted respect of the man, and now Petyr was going to be fighting him... possibly... hopefully he would not have to. Supposedly King Jon was a fine swordsman, certainly better than Petyr who was still training. If he was lucky and wanted to win King Jon would hopefully not be an opponent of his. His muscles tensed as he shifted nervously, glancing around the arena at the hundreds of combatants, knights and mercenaries and other oddities. Former slave warriors and even a few Dothraki riders. This was not going to be an easy fight... especially as it would be his first. Of course he had sparred, quite a bit with his father who was certainly not one to go easy in a fight. But even so it had always been just him and Sandor, at most he would include a few Lannister Guards to assist in his son learning to fight more than one opponent. This was a mock battle, and unlike a real one he could rely on no one but himself.

The horn... the sound signaled the begginning of the melee. A great, thundering sound it was, and just behind came an equally thunderous roar as the warriors of the melee charged into the arena proper with a great many shouts of excitement and battle fervor. Petyr did not join in this shout, instead he simply charged, hammer in one hand and shield in the other, his cloak billowing from behind him. Dirt was flung up from the ground by the pounding of feet and hooves as the combatants as they surged forth. It was not l;ong before the field had descended into chaos. 

A small group of warriors quickly ganged up on the larger, more threatening target of Petyr. The group of three surrounded the young warrior as the chaos descended, Petyr halting his charge as he observed his opponents. Two appeared to be knights, heraldry from the Vale... he tried to remember which houses from his lessons with Sansa... but found the task quite impossible now. The last appeared to be no more than a man at arms, most likely in service to one of the other two. Luckily, it was him to attack first. The man at arms charged, sword in hand he was easily blocked by Petyr, who growled and brought his hammer into the mans side hard. A sickening crunch was heard and the soldier crumpled to the side. The Knights made not the same mistake, circling the larger man as their servant tried to crawl away into the melee, groaning in pain. It was Petyr who struck first this time, feinting an attack with hios hammer and switching into a check with the edge of his shield to smash the side of the mans helmet. The Knight stumbled as the strike unbalanced him, weakly lifting his shield to try and stop further strikes. The other knight used the distraction of his ally to attack Petyr from behind, his sword slaching out in disciplined arcs. 

Petyr hardly managed to turn in time to block, parrying each strike in turn. He brought his hammer in a downward arc, the knight blocking it well enough as the two dueled. Soon the other Vale knight recovered and returned to the fight, roaring as he attempted to join in the combat. His clumsy strike was parried, his weapon tossed aside. As he tried to withdraw in order to retrieve it the warhammer crashed down against his helmet, a dull crunch accompanying the now massive dent in the metal helmet. The man moaned and stumbled away. The last Vale knight took advantage of his opponents distraction, landing a hit with his blade across Cleganes side. The blade slid off, clattering against the plate as Petyr wheeled around to face him, only to watch as a rouge hourse smashed into the Knight. The man screamed as he tumbled through the dirt and was trampled beneath the hooves of the horse. Petyr turned back to the field, new opponents would show themselves soon.