The tournant reached its third day.
The long-awaited day of the jousting finals.
The sun shone brightly, and every seat in the stands was filled.
More than thirty thousand spectators had arrived early, waiting for this peak showdown. Colorful banners snapped in the breeze, cheers rose and fell, and the entire tourney ground was filled with a festive atmosphere.
The draw results were announced.
First match: Luke Jaqenion vs Jai Lannister. Second match: Loras Tyrell vs Sandor Clegane. Third match: Oberyn Martell vs Gregor Clegane.
Luke's original opponent had been the Mountain, Gregor Clegane. But the Red Viper had approached him and asked to swap.
"My lord baron…" Oberyn's smile carried a dangerous glint. "I'll trade you one 'little sand snake' for that draw. How about it?"
Luke raised an eyebrow.
Little sand snake?
What the hell was that?
But he understood what the Red Viper ant — the man wanted to face the Mountain himself.
Luke nodded and handed over the token.
"As you wish."
First match: Luke vs Jai.
The two t in the center of the field.
Jai Lannister wore his signature golden armor, his white cloak fluttering behind him. A calm smile hung on his face, but his eyes were sharp as a hawk.
"Luke Jaqenion," Jai said, his tone carrying a hint of provocation. "I admit your archery is impressive. But that grand lee championship — I could have taken it too. Your luck ends here."
Luke looked at him and sensed no real hatred.
The man was provoking him on purpose, probably trying to create ntal interference.
Luke smiled.
"Then give it your best."
Jai was montarily stunned, then snorted coldly and rode back to his position.
The horn sounded.
Both warhorses charged forward like thunder, lances leveled.
In the stands, everyone held their breath. Thirty thousand pairs of eyes were locked on the two speeding figures.
Luke gripped his lance, thoughts flashing through his mind.
Should he finish Jai instantly? Or give him so face?
Forget it — instant it is.
The mont the horses crossed, Luke's lance struck Jai squarely in the chest with pinpoint accuracy.
Bang—
Jai was sent flying.
He tumbled through the air for several seconds before crashing heavily to the ground. His golden armor was covered in dust, his white cloak scattered. He lay there, eyes wide, completely unable to comprehend what had just happened.
In that instant, he had only felt an unstoppable, overwhelming force.
The power was too great — he couldn't even clamp his thighs to stay in the saddle.
A collective gasp swept the arena.
The Kingslayer… had been one-shotted!
In the royal box, Queen Cersei's face turned extrely ugly.
Jai lay on the ground for several seconds before shakily getting to his feet. He stared at the receding back of the rider, his eyes full of disbelief.
Second match: Loras Tyrell vs Sandor Clegane.
The Knight of Flowers used the sa trick from the original story — riding a mare in heat.
Only this ti, the victim wasn't the Mountain, but the Mountain's brother, the Hound.
Sandor Clegane's mount was a stallion. Under the influence of the mare, it completely lost control, neighing wildly as it charged toward the mare.
Loras seized the opportunity and unhorsed the Hound with a single lance.
The crowd erupted in enthusiastic applause.
Sandor got up, kicked his stallion hard, and cursed as he stord off the field.
Third match: Oberyn Martell vs Gregor Clegane.
This bout was fierce and spectacular.
Both sides charged at each other five tis. Their lances shattered three tis each and had to be replaced.
Every charge was accompanied by earth-shaking battle cries and gasps from the audience.
With every pass, the Red Viper roared: "How dare you harm her! Speak! Who ordered you to kill her children!"
The Mountain remained silent, simply swinging his lance with savage fury.
Luke stood at the edge of the field, watching the scene with a slight frown.
Sothing was wrong.
In a foot fight, the agile and highly skilled Red Viper could probably defeat the Mountain without much trouble.
But this was a mounted fight. How could the slender Red Viper last so long against a monster like the Mountain?
He swept the Mountain with his spiritual power.
Then he found the problem.
Beneath the Mountain's helt, his face had turned a strange, unnatural black.
He had been poisoned.
No wonder.
Sixth charge.
Both lances shattered simultaneously, sending splinters flying.
The arena fell silent.
Then it erupted in deafening cries of shock!
The Red Viper had been impaled through the throat — the wooden lance had driven in beneath his helt.
But the Mountain's condition was almost identical. He too had been lifted by a lance, the tip piercing under his helt.
Both n fell almost at the sa ti, coughing painfully. Blood gushed from their mouths, staining the ground beneath them.
In the stands, every noble's face changed dramatically.
Even the slightly drunk King Robert shot to his feet.
The Mountain's death was inconsequential, but the other man was a Prince of Dorne!
Eddard Stark imdiately shouted, "Quickly, save them!"
"dics" rushed onto the field and carried both n away.
But everyone knew their chances were slim.
Despite this sudden incident, the tournant had to continue.
With both the Red Viper and the Mountain eliminated, the championship would be decided between Luke and Loras.
Loras Tyrell rode into the field with an elegant smile. He nodded to Luke and raised his lance in salute.
Luke raised his own lance in return.
The horn sounded.
Both warhorses charged.
One lance.
Luke unhorsed Loras — this "pretty boy" — without the slightest rcy.
His fall was even more miserable than Jai's… he rolled several tis across the ground, covered in dust.
Loras got up, brushed off his armor, then actually smiled at Luke.
A smile full of admiration, as if saying You really are impressive.
Luke instantly got goosebumps all over.
A chill shot straight from his tailbone to the top of his head.
He quickly turned his horse to leave.
But the herald stopped him.
"Lord Baron! Please wait!"
Luke reined in his horse.
The herald smiled and announced, "You are the champion of the joust. According to tradition, you must crown the 'Queen of Love and Beauty.'"
Luke paused.
Only then did he rember — the jousting champion had one more honor: to choose the most beautiful noblewoman present and personally place a crown of winter roses upon her head.
This was the most romantic part of the tourney.
The champion must bestow the crown!
Luke looked around the stands.
Every noble lady and maiden held her breath.
Countless eyes fell upon him — expectant, nervous, longing.
No woman wanted to miss the chance to beco the Queen of Love and Beauty.
In the royal box, Queen Cersei's heart tightened.
She straightened her back, lifted her chin slightly, and showed her most perfect profile. Her erald eyes were soft and inviting, her red lips slightly parted, as if silently beckoning him.
She was the Queen, the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.
That man would surely choose her.
How could he not choose her?
Luke's gaze swept past her.
Then moved on.
Cersei's breathing quickened. She unconsciously clenched her thighs together.
She waited, waited for that glorious mont.
The next second, her angelic face twisted in fury.
Because Luke rode straight toward the Stark family's section.
He stopped his horse in front of Sansa Stark, smiled, leaned down, and gently placed the crown of winter roses on her head.
Sansa was completely stunned.
Her eyes widened, lips parted, unable to believe what was happening.
The fragrant scent of the roses filled her nose. Sunlight shone on Luke as he smiled at her, as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.
She felt as if a pie from the heavens had smashed her senseless.
When she finally ca back to her senses, she heard Prince Joffrey snort coldly beside her.
The prince's face looked extrely ugly.
He turned and walked away.
Sansa looked at his retreating back, then at Luke before her, and a complicated emotion surged in her heart.
Luke nodded to her, then turned his horse and left.
The stands erupted in thunderous cheers.
"The Queen of Love and Beauty — Miss Sansa Stark!"
Countless people clapped, cheered, and whistled.
Only Queen Cersei stood there, her face ashen.
Her nails dug deep into her palms.
That man… had not chosen her.
--------------------------
Support us on P@tre0n and gain access to 100 chapters in advance!
[email protected]/inkshield
User Comments
0 comments from readers