The dead silence on the tourney ground lasted only a fleeting moment.
When Loras Tyrell's splendid silver armor crashed heavily into the mud of blood and horse dung, it was as if someone had pressed mute on the world.
Then came a roar like a volcanic eruption!
"Black Knight!"
"BLACK KNIGHT!!"
No one knew who shouted the name first.
Immediately after, a tidal wave of sound converged from every corner of the tourney grounds, threatening to tear the sky apart!
This was no longer simple cheering; it was a near-frenzied worship!
A nameless crow from the Wall, a country bumpkin on a plow horse, had hacked his way through thorns amidst everyone's mockery and scorn.
He had beaten the Frey fool with sheer luck.
He had unhorsed the Prince's Hound in the most roguish way.
Then, when everyone thought his luck had run out, he crushed the Golden Lion, Jaime Lannister, head-on in the most brutal, unreasonable manner!
Finally, he used a lance technique bordering on art to utterly shatter the Golden Rose adored by countless maidens!
Every opponent was a renowned knight.
Every opponent was battle-hardened!
And he, a nobody, was the last one standing.
This itself was a miracle!
A legend worthy of being sung by bards for a hundred years!
Lynn sat quietly on "Storm," his helmet off, letting the deafening roar wash over him.
His gaze swept over the Tyrell box, where "Garlan the Gallant" was staring at him as if seeing a ghost.
He looked at the high dais.
With a crisp sound, the crystal wine cup in Petyr Baelish's hand slipped, shattering on the floor.
He looked as if his spine had been pulled out, slumped in his chair, his face pale as paper.
The wine soaked his fine robes, but he didn't notice, staring blankly at the black figure in the field, his lips moving silently like a fish out of water.
Lynn's gaze finally landed on the Stark box.
"He won! Lynn won!"
Arya was jumping up and down on her chair, her face flushed red, her voice hoarse from shouting.
She spun around suddenly, grabbing Ned Stark's arm. In her grey eyes shone an unprecedented light and an unquestionable determination.
"Father!"
She lowered her voice, but it was crystal clear.
"I want to marry Lynn!"
The smile on Ned Stark's face froze instantly.
He looked down at his youngest daughter. Those grey eyes were filled with a stubbornness and wildness unique to the North, so different from his wife Catelyn.
He wanted to refuse.
This was absurd.
Arya was still a child, and Lynn... he was a man of the Night's Watch.
But when his gaze returned to the center of the lists, to the black figure cheered by thousands.
All words of refusal stuck in his throat.
Night's Watch?
A Night's Watchman who could crush Jaime Lannister head-on and toy with Loras Tyrell using superior lance skills?
A Night's Watchman hailed as a hero by the King's son and capable of bankrupting the Master of Coin?
Ned's heart began to race.
A crazy thought sprouted uncontrollably in his mind.
The strength, wisdom, and unfathomable strategic ability Lynn displayed far exceeded the scope of a normal man.
And his combat prowess... even Ned himself might not be his match now.
He was not only the North's sharp blade but also House Stark's most solid ally.
That Ned had managed to navigate King's Landing this far was almost entirely due to Lynn's counsel.
If...
If this immeasurable power could be bound to House Stark forever...
Ned's breathing grew rapid.
Looking at Arya's stubborn face, it began to merge with the face of his sister, Lyanna.
He looked at Lynn in the distance again.
He understood that Arya had made up her mind.
Even if he disagreed, Arya would make the same choice Lyanna did back then.
Moreover, this marriage alliance brought far more benefits than drawbacks to House Stark.
The only obstacle was Lynn's status as a man of the Night's Watch.
But as long as the King spoke the word, the vows of the Night's Watch were but a piece of paper.
And in the Seven Kingdoms, no one's word carried more weight than Robert's!
Ned took a deep breath.
"Alright. When you are older."
Ned's voice was soft, but heavy as a mountain.
Arya froze.
She had regretted the words as soon as she said them.
But she never expected her father... to actually agree?
After a brief shock came immense joy!
She hugged Ned's neck tightly!
"I knew it! Father, you're the best!"
Sansa sat dazedly to the side, her small hand unconsciously gripping the silk of her dress.
She heard her father's answer, which was practically a promise.
It was like a needle gently pricking her heart.
Arya... that rough, wild sister who only cared about fighting, was going to marry Lynn?
Marry the hero who saved the Prince, defeated Ser Jaime, and was now worshipped like a god by all of King's Landing?
She looked down at her spotless blue gown, then involuntarily at the black cloak on Lynn's shoulders.
She had sewn it stitch by stitch, a gift dedicated to a hero, a plot point straight out of a story.
But now, Arya was going to marry Lynn with just one sentence?
She was the eldest daughter of House Stark, the most beautiful lady of the North.
Why... why wasn't she the princess in the story?
Was she really going to marry the cruel, tyrannical Joffrey?
Just then, a huge commotion came from the high dais.
King Robert Baratheon actually stood up from his throne!
Pushing aside the squires and nobles in front of him, he walked unsteadily down the dais, his massive bulk moving step by step toward the center of the lists!
"Bwahahaha! Do you see, Ned!"
"This is your wolf cub from the North!"
Robert's roar and laughter echoed across the entire tourney ground.
He walked up to Lynn's horse. His cloudy, alcohol-soaked eyes now burst with astonishing light.
His massive hand slapped Lynn's leg armor heavily, producing a dull thud.
"Good lad! You did Ned proud!"
"I've never seen such a satisfying joust in my life!"
Robert looked around, his gaze sweeping over the grim-faced Lannisters, his smile widening.
He suddenly drew the longsword at his waist—the magnificent blade encrusted with dazzling gems, unique to the King—shining with regal cold light in the sun.
He pointed the tip at Lynn, his voice booming like a bell.
"Kneel!"
Lynn dismounted and knelt on one knee in the dirt stained with blood, horse dung, and glory.
The entire arena fell utterly silent in this moment.
Everyone held their breath, witnessing this historic scene.
Robert laid the flat of the blade on Lynn's right shoulder.
"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave."
The sword moved to the left shoulder.
"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just."
"In the name of the Mother, I charge you to be merciful."
"In the name of the Crone, I charge you to be wise."
"In the name of the Smith, I charge you to be strong."
"In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect the innocent."
"In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to fear no death!"
Robert withdrew the sword, tapping the flat lightly on Lynn's shoulders three times.
He took a step back, his fat face filled with kingly majesty.
"Rise!"
Robert's voice resounded through the clouds.
"Rise, Ser Lynn, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!"
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