Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 46

Chapter 46: The Last Seven
...
Richard POV

In the melee ground, I stood comfortably, my heart steady as I looked out from the narrow slit of my helmet. This was it—the final round.

The herald's voice boomed across the field as he began to announce the names of the last seven contenders. Starting with the Westerlands.

"From the Westerlands, representing House Lannister are Tygett Lannister, Gerion Lannister, and Ser Galahad!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices a roaring wave. Tygett and Gerion, focused and stern, barely glanced at the crowd. Their attention was fixed on the field.

I, however, turned toward the spectators and waved, allowing myself a moment to savor their reaction.

The cheers grew louder from my gesture.

Then, in the sea of faces, I spotted Elia Martell. Her gaze was locked onto me, still intense. Despite what had happened between us this morning, it seemed her spirit hadn't fully waned.

I felt a smirk creep beneath my helmet.

My thoughts drifted, and I searched the crowd again, looking for a different figure. I found her—Alicent, standing among the smallfolk, her hood drawn low to keep her identity hidden.

She'd been pleading with me to let her attend the tourney, and last night, I'd finally relented. Her happiness had been infectious with joy after my agreement.

Around her, disguised as common folk, stood thirty
Lionheart family members. Men and women, soldiers and associates, each armed with daggers beneath their clothes, stationed to ensure her safety in the throng.

Alicent spotted me and waved, her excitement clear even beneath her hood. I lifted my helmet slightly and blew her a kiss.

The ladies in the crowd, thinking the gesture was for them, squealed in delight. Under her hood, Alicent smiled, blowing a kiss back to me. I smiled at her gesture.

Satisfied, I turned back to the field, letting the noise of the crowd fade as I steadied my focus. The herald's voice rang out again, listing my final opponents.

Oberyn Martell, the Viper of Dorne. Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. And Ser Barristan Selmy, the Bold. Each of these men were formidable for reaching the final.

The field would soon be a storm of blades and clashing armor, and only one would emerge victorious.

I drew a deep breath, letting the thrill of the moment settle over me. It was time.

"These men are the final seven! With that, let the final round of the melee commence!" The herald's voice echoed, and the crowd roared.

I unsheathed both of my swords, feeling them settle into my grip.

I looked over to Oberyn, Gerion, and Tygett, each of them on edge. Unlike yesterday, there'd be no alliances. This was a true free-for-all.

The trumpet blared, signaling the start of the melee.

Without hesitation, I launched myself toward Gerion, an immediate strike aimed at him.

"Seven hells, Galahad! Why are you attacking me first?" he yelled, scrambling to raise his shield. The top edge of it shattered under my blow, and I took advantage, swinging my second blade low toward his unprotected thigh.

"There's no hard feelings, Gerion," I said, my strike landing with precision.

"Ughhh, gods..." Gerion groaned, collapsing to one knee. I'd held back just enough to avoid serious injury, but it would leave him bruised.