Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Archery Event
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Elia Martell POV

I sat on the high platform among the rows reserved for noble houses, a place of honor. A while ago, My mother and I watched the squire melee. My mother had insisted on our presence in that event because Prince Rhaegar was observing the contest, and she hoped that he might take notice of me.

Now our attention had turned to the archery event. I found myself seated between my mother and my brother, Oberyn.

Prince Rhaegar was nearby, in the Lannister section, next to Lord Tywin, who was eager to bask in the prince's presence.

I stole a glance at him. He was undeniably handsome, the kind of handsome that made young women swoon and poets sing.

But his manner left me cold.

His words felt rehearsed, his smiles too perfect—a mask of courtesy worn by someone eager to please everyone. The façade was beautiful, but it felt hollow.

I found myself disappointed, even bored, by the endless parade of empty compliments he offered to everyone who approached.

Yet despite my disinterest, I couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for him—trapped in a gilded cage, a bird singing only the songs expected of him.

My thoughts wandered to someone else, someone who seemed the very opposite of Prince Rhaegar—Galahad, with his carefree demeanor, confidence, and that infuriatingly playful grin.

I couldn't shake the memory of the previous night's dance with him. His singing had caught me off guard, the way his voice carried a sadness that seemed to come from a deeper place.

I didn't understand why I had cried, why the song had resonated with me so deeply.

I had wanted to see Galahad's axe-throwing contest earlier, to witness his skill and accuracy firsthand. But duty to my mother and her ambitions had kept me at the prince's side, trying to curry favor like so many other noble ladies.

I wasn't the only one vying for his attention, there were other ladies from other houses. We were a sea of rivals, smiling and playing our parts, even if our smiles felt forced.

Oberyn had filled me in on Galahad's performance in the axe event—how every throw had been flawless, his aim precise and deadly. He had even won the final round, earning two thousand gold dragons—a small fortune. I was glad for him, truly.

He had mentioned entering the melee and the joust tomorrow, and with that prize money, he could afford finer armor for himself and his steed, and superior weapons.

My attention shifted back to the archery event. Sixteen archers stood in the field, their bows at the ready, but my gaze was drawn to one in particular. There, among the competitors, stood Galahad.

He looked... different. Or was it just my imagination? His hair, now trimmed to shoulder length, caught the breeze, framing him like a halo of gold.

His stance was steady, his gaze focused, and I couldn't help but notice the strength in his arms as he held the bow with practiced ease.

He even looked slightly taller.

He seemed at ease, as if the crowd and the pressure of competition were nothing but a passing breeze to him.

The crowd hushed as the archery contest began in earnest. The preliminaries had ended some time ago, and now the true test of skill was about to unfold.

The tension in the air was palpable, and I leaned forward slightly, eager to see if Galahad would prove himself among the best archers.
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Prince Rhaegar POV