Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 35: Archery Event

…

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.

…

Prince Rhaegar POV

My eyes focused intently on the field of the archery event, where the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. It had been a taxing morning, with ladies from various houses all trying to curry my favor. 

I found it exhausting, but I knew the importance of maintaining my image and garnering the support I needed. It was a necessary performance in this world of courtly intrigue.

But on the field, my gaze was drawn to a single figure: the new young knight Galahad. 

Last night, I had begun to suspect he might be the one to change my fate. With his support, I believed I could forge a new path for myself.

Regrettably, my enthusiasm had led me to indulge a bit too much in wine during our previous encounter. 

I'd felt bold, intoxicated by the prospect of winning his trust. But it was fine—I still had the entirety of the tourney ahead of me to recruit him to my side.

As the archery contest commenced, the competitors began to take their shots. In the distance, I watched as Galahad expertly pulled back his longbow. 

When he released the bowstring, I gasped in surprise as his arrow struck dead center, a perfect bullseye.

I had heard him be referred to as Ser Axehead, a new title earned for his remarkable accuracy in axe throwing. Now, seeing it for myself, I believe the rumor. Other contestants also hit bullseyes, but none matched the precision of his shot.

As he prepared to loose his second arrow, I felt a thrill of anticipation. Would he maintain his extraordinary aim? 

The moment came, and he released the arrow with a smooth motion. It flew through the air and hit dead center again, this time splitting the first arrow in half, perfectly nestled in the previous arrow's space.

A smile spread across my face. I had to recruit him no matter what. 

I had heard he would also compete in the melee and the joust, and I could hardly contain my excitement at the thought of witnessing his skills firsthand.

I had sent two of my Kingsguard to enter the melee event: Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. I wanted them to observe Galahad's prowess. 

They would judge his skills for me, helping me determine if he was truly the knight I believed he could be.

All of my Kingsguard and I would also participate in the joust. The thought thrilled me; I might have the chance to tilt my lance against him, to see firsthand what he was capable of.

Galahad was not just any knight—he was the knight who could change my fate and save me from the same fate as my father. 

As the contest continued, my resolve strengthened. I would ensure that he recognized the potential of an alliance with me.

…

Third POV

The round of sixteen had ended with Galahad leading the scores. After that second arrow, which had split the first cleanly, he'd reined in his performance—deliberately holding back, it seemed. Even so, he remained unmatched. 

At fifty paces, his supernatural eyesight and uncanny accuracy made it seem as if the target were only an arm's length away.

The crowd's gasps and murmurs of astonishment filled the air, a swell of awe that echoed from the smallfolk to the highest lords and ladies in attendance. 

The feats of archery they had witnessed were nothing short of remarkable, and it was clear to all that Galahad was a cut above the rest.

Now, he was through to the quarterfinals, where only eight archers remained. A ten-minute break was called, giving the contestants a chance to recover. 

Since this was the final event of the day, there was no rush as there had been earlier.

Galahad made his way to the noble stand, aware that every eye was on him. The elegance of his shots had set him apart, and there was a certain weight to the gazes that followed his every step. 

As he approached the Martell section, he spotted Oberyn lounging with his characteristic grin.

"So, Oberyn, better pay up," Galahad called out, his voice carrying a teasing edge.

"When you said you'd hit only bullseyes, I thought you were exaggerating," Oberyn replied, a playful glint in his eye. "But you've proven me wrong."

"I don't see any coin in your hand," Galahad retorted, his tone half-serious.

Oberyn chuckled. "I'll pay you later, I promise. As you can see, I don't have any coin on me right now."

"Spent it all at the brothel, I suppose?" Galahad teased, feigning a knowing look.

Oberyn's smirk widened. "True, I did."

Beside Oberyn, Elia and their mother, Princess Nymeria, chuckle softly at the banter.

"How much does my son owe you?" Nymeria asked, amusement clear in her eyes.

"Forty gold coins," Galahad answered, glancing between the prince and the princess with a grin.

"Seems my brother is already in debt," Elia quipped, a smile lighting her face. "I apologize for his lack of foresight."

Oberyn shrugged, entirely unconcerned. "Debts come and go, sister."

"Lucky for you, your mother's a princess, or else that debt might have had some nasty consequences," Princess Nymeria remarked with a mischievous glint, gesturing to one of her Martell knights. 

The knight handed over two small pouches, which Nymeria tossed lightly to Galahad.

He caught them deftly, and with a mock-serious expression, he weighed them in his palm before opening them. 

To his surprise, the pouches contained eighty gold coins, forty more than what he was owed.

"Consider it a reward," Nymeria said with a wink. "You've earned it with your archery. I was impressed."

Galahad gave a deep, theatrical bow, a smile playing on his lips. "I am honored, princess."

As the break drew to a close, Galahad turned and made his way back to his position on the field. 

He heard Elia's voice call out behind him, clear and sincere. "Good luck, Ser Galahad."

He paused, turning back to meet her gaze. "I'll do my best," he replied, confidence lacing his words. 

He took his place among the remaining competitors. The quarter finals were about to begin.

…

Galahad POV

The quarterfinals and semifinals had been effortless. Each of my shot struck the bullseye without fail—arrow after arrow, flawless precision. It wasn't just my enhanced vision or the finely crafted bow that made it possible. 

No, it was the combination of my other supernatural senses, the way I could read the shifting wind, calculate the slightest change in angle, feel the exact pressure needed on the bowstring. 

It was as if my body, honed by the gift of reflexes and accuracy, had become a weapon in itself.

But now, I stood in the final round. To my right was Ser Gilwood Hunter, a knight of the Vale and a renowned archer from House Hunter. 

His reputation as one of the best shots in the Vale was well-deserved, but unfortunately for him, he faced me now. 

The four thousand gold prize he might have claimed was already out of reach.

"Lords and ladies, the final two of the archery event have been decided!" the herald's voice rang out.

"To the right, Ser Gilwood, from House Hunter, representing the Vale!" The crowd's response was harsh, a wave of jeers and booing directed at the outsider. 

He was a Vale knight, facing off against a Westerman on Westerman soil.

"To your left, Ser Galahad, representing the West and House Lannister!" The crowd's mood shifted in an instant, a roar of support echoing from the stands, the cheers loud and unrelenting. 

I had the home field advantage, but truth be told, I didn't need it.

The herald's words signaled the beginning of the final match. We each had ten arrows, the target set back to sixty paces now, a considerable distance by any standard. 

Yet I felt no anxiety, no nerves—only the cold clarity that had carried me through the tournament thus far.

I stepped forward to take my shot, feeling the eyes of the crowd upon me, feeling Gilwood's stare, heavy with anticipation.

As I nocked my first arrow, I focused on the target, the bullseye clear in my sight as if it were a mere pace away. My senses heightened, the world slowing around me.

I pulled back the bowstring, holding it firm, then glanced sideways at Gilwood, a smirk tugging at my lips.

"Hey, Ser Gilwood," I called, my voice casual, mocking. "Game over."

Without turning my eyes back to the target, I loosed the arrow. It sailed through the air, a streak of deadly accuracy. I didn't need to watch it to know the result. 

The impact echoed as the arrow struck the target dead center, hitting the bullseye.

The crowd gasped, and I could almost hear the sudden, sharp intake of Gilwood's breath, his heart beating faster. 

He was rattled. I knew, in that moment, that the competition was over—he had lost the match before it had even begun.

With the same precision, I fired the next nine arrows, each one sinking into the bullseye with unerring accuracy. The crowd's astonishment grew with every shot, their cheers swelling to a deafening crescendo.

"The winner of the archery event, Ser Galahad!" the herald's voice boomed over the noise, declaring my victory.

I'd won, not just the event, but the awe and admiration of everyone watching. Two events were now under my belt.