Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 39

Chapter 39: The Preliminary Joust
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Third POV

The jousting grounds hummed with anticipation as the preliminary rounds began. Noble and smallfolk alike packed the stands, eyes wide with excitement, voices raised in cheers.

Moments before, they had witnessed Ser Arthur Dayne's triumph over a Lannister knight, and now, two new contenders readied themselves to clash.

The herald stepped forward, his voice carrying over the crowd.

"From the right, Ser Lyn Corbray of the Vale!" Cheers rose as Ser Lyn, his armor emblazoned with a raven clutching a heart, lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

His gaze was focused and sharp.

"And from the left, Ser Galahad, representing House Lannister and the West!" Galahad rode in, his white armor and lion-engraved pauldrons shining in the midday sun.

The crowd's cheers swelled, and cries of "Ser Axehead!" and "Ser Hawkeye!" echoed, celebrating his achievements in both archery and axe throwing.

Galahad guided his horse smoothly toward the stands, his gaze catching on a familiar princess seated with quiet dignity. "Would you grant me your favor, Princess Elia?" he called, his tone warm and playful.

Elia smiled as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the small gesture softening her expression.

She held out a handkerchief she'd embroidered herself, a lion devouring a sun. "Here, Ser Galahad. I wish you good fortune," she said, letting the cloth fall into his waiting hand.

Galahad took it with a dramatic flair, inhaling its faint scent. The playful gesture sparked a blush on Elia's cheeks and a murmur among the crowd.

"I'll bring honor to you, Princess," he said, his voice just loud enough for her to hear, before turning his horse back to the field. Elia's gaze lingered on him, her heart beating faster than she'd admit.

Beside her, Princess Nymeria raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, while Elia touched her chest, a warmth growing there—a feeling that had taken root ever since their dance at the feast.

On the field, Galahad secured the handkerchief around his wrist and accepted his lance from the herald. Across from him, Ser Lyn lifted his own lance in silent acknowledgment, his expression fierce.

The trumpet sounded, slicing through the crowd's murmurs, and in an instant, the knights charged. Hooves thundered against the earth as they closed the distance.

The impact was thunderous—Galahad's lance shattered against Ser Lyn's shield, rocking his opponent back in the saddle.

During this, Galahad had skillfully maneuvered his horse, just barely dodging Ser Lyn's lance. He was now up three points.

The crowd's applause swept over the field as the knights returned to their positions. Riding back, Galahad stole a quick glance at Elia, showing her the handkerchief with a hint of a smile.

Back at his mark, he steadied himself for the second pass. This time, he didn't evade. Urging his horse forward, he braced as Ser Lyn's lance crashed against his shield.

Galahad didn't flinch, his body unshaken. In the same heartbeat, his own lance struck, hitting Ser Lyn square in the chest.

Ser Lyn was thrown from his saddle, crashing to the ground as the crowd collectively gasped, then erupted in cheers.

Galahad slowed his horse, his eyes finding Elia as he lifted the handkerchief in quiet acknowledgment.

The crowd's cheers rang out, echoing through the grounds as Ser Lyn lay stunned, the match decided in Galahad's favor.