First round. The Knight of Flowers dominated!
The stands erupted in thunderous cheers.
"YAH! You damned beast!"
Gregor's roar drowned out the cheers.
He whipped his mount savagely. Tried to regain control.
Useless.
Second charge.
The scene became even more absurd.
The Mountain's warhorse charged sideways at Loras. Kept making mating calls.
CRACK!
Loras didn't even need to aim.
He just casually extended his lance.
The tip tapped the Mountain's heavy breastplate lightly.
Massive impact force!
Gregor Clegane's mountain-like body was effortlessly thrown from the saddle by that seemingly small force!
BOOM!
Heavy steel hit the ground. The thud silenced the entire arena for a heartbeat.
After brief silence—a tsunami of roars!
"KNIGHT OF FLOWERS! KNIGHT OF FLOWERS!"
Loras reined his horse elegantly. Basked in the adulation.
But the "mountain" on the ground moved.
Gregor Clegane staggered to his feet.
He ripped off his twisted helmet. Revealed a face purple with rage and humiliation.
He'd lost.
He, Gregor Clegane, had been unhorsed by a pretty boy. In that way!
Unbearable shame!
"SCREEE—"
The still-aroused stallion stupidly approached. Nuzzled its master's body.
"DIE!"
Gregor's fury exploded!
He yanked out his greatsword—the one requiring two hands to wield!
A terrifying flash of steel!
THUNK!
The massive horse head was severed in one stroke!
Boiling blood fountained skyward! Drenched Gregor head to toe!
"AHHH—"
Noble ladies in the stands shrieked in terror!
Sansa went deathly pale. Fainted into Ned's arms.
This bloody, brutal scene turned the tourney grounds into hell!
Littlefinger's smile froze completely. His cup slipped again. Shattered.
Gregor was a beast fully enraged. He charged toward Loras, still basking in cheers!
"DIE! PRETTY BOY!"
Loras's smile froze.
He never imagined a joust would turn into mortal combat!
He fumbled for his longsword.
But facing that mountain of meat charging with blood and fury, his knightly skills looked pathetically weak.
The blood was about to fly again—
A black figure leaped from the stands!
The Hound. Sandor Clegane!
CLANG—
Sandor's sword deflected Gregor's greatsword precisely!
"GET OUT OF MY WAY, SANDOR!"
The brothers clashed instantly!
"IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING, STOP!"
"ENOUGH!"
Robert's roar finally rang from the high platform.
"Pull these madmen apart!"
Several Kingsguard rushed forward. With tremendous effort, separated the bloodthirsty brothers.
The arena was chaos.
The Mountain threw down his greatsword angrily. Expressing his displeasure.
Then, ignoring Robert's dark face, he spat. Left the arena.
Robert looked furious. But the Mountain belonged to the Lannisters. Nothing he could do.
"Let him go!"
"Lannister bastard!"
"Next match! Now!"
While everyone was still reeling from the bloody farce, the royal herald's trembling voice rang out again.
"This match—the Knight of Flowers, Loras, wins!"
Hearing this, Renly Baratheon on the stands finally exhaled in relief.
Several more rounds of Lynn showing weakness. Every time he entered, the crowd booed.
Lynn always won through "luck."
Finally.
"Jousting... semifinals!"
"The Black Knight from the Wall..."
The herald's gaze involuntarily fell on the black figure sitting quietly in the stands.
"Versus—"
"Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister!"
The announcement dropped. The crowd erupted!
That crow who'd stumbled into the semifinals through dumb luck—facing the Seven Kingdoms' most renowned knight, Jaime Lannister!
Every eye swept between Lynn and Jaime.
One was a lucky fool rolling in mud. The other was heaven's favorite standing in the clouds.
This match had no suspense!
Jaime Lannister stood leisurely.
His golden armor blazed in the sunlight. Blinding.
He didn't even bother looking at Lynn.
To him, this was just a formality.
Lynn stood too.
He rolled his wrists. They cracked.
He looked toward the high platform. At Petyr Baelish, whose face was dark enough to drip water.
Then at the betting board. His odds had reached astronomical numbers. Now in the semifinals, the odds were locked.
The game ends now.
And against Jaime, I can't hide anymore.
The Hound was a top fighter, but not great at jousting. Robert added him on a whim.
Jaime's far stronger than the Hound. I must show my true strength!
Lynn donned his helmet. Mounted Storm.
As he prepared to enter the arena, he felt a gaze.
From the Tyrell stands.
He followed the feeling.
A girl in a green gown—beautiful as a budding rose—watched him quietly.
Margaery Tyrell.
Her eyes held no worship like Sansa's. No infatuation like the noble ladies'. No curiosity like commoners'.
Eyes full of intelligence. Scrutiny.
Lynn met her gaze briefly. Then looked away.
The little rose of House Tyrell?
Interesting.
Lynn urged Storm forward. Entered the arena center slowly.
At the other end—the golden, gleaming Ser Jaime.
Lynn raised his lance. Pointed it across the distance at Jaime Lannister.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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