Chapter 47: Reward and The Mystery Rose
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Tywin POV
I sat beside the table in my tent, looking over the map of the Westerlands. The reason was the squire, Galahad, whom I made a knight not even a week ago. This map would be a pivotal part of my plan with him.
I was silently thinking about the melee half an hour ago, my heart still pumping fast from witnessing an impossible scene.
Gods, I never thought I would witness the day when a knight representing my house would achieve such feats.
I'd seen Galahad defeat Gerion, Tygett, and Oberyn before, but to think he could do the same against Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy—together, at the same time.
An impossible feat for anyone, but after what Galahad did, it was possible, and he even made it look like child's play.
The surprising thing was he had only just turned sixteen. He had room to even improve further.
Thinking of him brought to mind the Lionheart family, with which he was connected in the past.
Kevan had hinted that the Hooded Man, their enigmatic leader, was even far stronger than Galahad, and that Galahad wasn't even highly ranked in their family.
This was one of the reasons I hadn't moved against the Lionheart family. If Galahad was this strong, I cannot imagine how much stronger the Hooded Man was.
Another reason, among many, was my inability to uncover their bases or their leaders identity. That's why I made a deal with them—it's easier to control a happy hound than a wild wolf.
As I was thinking, the tent's flap opened. "Ser Galahad has arrived, Lord Tywin," my guards announced.
"Come in," I said.
Moments later, Galahad stepped in with a confident smile. Looking at him, I could see how much he had grown—not just in height and prowess, but in his character. He carried himself with a maturity beyond his years.
"Sit," I said to Galahad, who had stood in respect.
He took his seat, and we were now eye to eye.
"You've done quite well representing House Lannister," I said, my voice sincere.
"You've shown great prowess. Winning the melee is one thing, but defeating two of the best Kingsguard is an achievement… fascinating," I continued, a note of genuine admiration in my words.
"Thank you, my lord. I only do so to serve House Lannister," Galahad replied with a light nod.
"Speaking of service, although you've been made my knight, we haven't had the chance to make an oath yet," I began, shifting the topic.
"I've heard lords have been vying for your service. What were their offers? And I want to know if you've accepted any," I said, fixing Galahad with a serious gaze.
It wouldn't do any good if he'd accepted an offer. All the prestige he had built for my house would go to another.
"No, my lord, I would not dare accept. My loyalty is only to you," Galahad replied, his gratitude evident.
"As for the offers, Lord Mace, Lord Steffon, Lord Hoster, and Lord Jon have all proposed gifts of land and title," he continued.
I stayed silent, inwardly noting Prince Rhaegar words hadn't been wrong—clearly, the other paramount lords were eager to claim Galahad's service.
"Lord Mace offered me lands in the Reach near the Redwyne Strait and the title of a knightly house," Galahad revealed.
I was almost surprised he hadn't accepted—such offers weren't given lightly. Seeing his loyalty, however, I felt a measure of pride.
"Lord Steffon offered me land near Breaker Bay, with a similar title," Galahad went on, before disclosing similar offers from Lord Hoster and Lord Jon.
I exhaled slightly, considering how rare such propositions were and how steadfastly he had declined them.
"You've shown great loyalty by not accepting," I acknowledged, "and you've brought considerable prestige to my house by representing it. Already, you are well renowned, and in the weeks and moons to come, your name will no doubt spread as the greatest knight in Westeros." I allowed the words to sink in, watching him closely.
"A Lannister always pays his debts. For your achievements and loyalty, I grant you land and a house name of your choosing," I added, a faint smirk on my lips.
Galahad's eyes widened momentarily, shocked. "There is no need, my lord," he protested moments later.
"I insist. This is your Lord Paramount's first command," I replied, leaving him no room to refuse.
He still hesitated, and though I kept my expression stern, I felt a trace of satisfaction.
Coming from a smallfolk background, he carried with him a humility uncommon in knights of his skill—a quality I valued.
"Thank you, my lord. I will serve you loyally," he vowed, and I allowed myself a rare smile.
With this, he would forever be bound as one of my loyal bannermen.
"Now, choose the land you want," I said, pushing the map of the Westerlands toward him. The areas marked included freehold territories and lands left vacant by fallen houses.
He studied the map, deep in thought, as I watched him.
This decision would ensure that Galahad and his descendants owed their loyalty and oath to House Lannister, binding him to my house for generations to come.
…
Third POV
In the jousting field, two knights atop horses face each other, preparing for the final round of joust of the Tourney.
The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the last two contestants were announced to the cheers of the gathered spectators.
Ser Barristan Selmy represented the crown, while Ser Galahad, represented house Lannister.
The heralds called their names, but it was clear there was a favorite among the crowd. It was impossible to ignore the overwhelming support for Galahad.
As the herald proclaimed Galahad's name, the crowd erupted in loud cheers. "Ser Galahad! Ser Galahad!" they roared.
The smallfolk and nobles alike shouted countless nicknames in reverence: "Ser Axehead," "Ser Hawkeye," "Ser Gallant," "Ser Invincible," "Ser Lionheart," and many more.
Each one was a testament to Galahad incredible feats throughout the tournament, a symbol of his growing legend.
Galahad, perched on his horse, rode a slow circuit around the field. The crowd cheered as they extended their hands, eager to touch him, to feel the brush of his passing glory.
Galahad, with a modest yet proud smile, extended his own hand to greet them, his presence commanding the attention of all.
The crowd's energy was electric, their anticipation palpable as Galahad rode back to his corner, the dust of the arena swirling around him.
His horse trotted smoothly as he adjusted his grip on the lance, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders.
Across the field, Ser Barristan Selmy stood tall, his gaze unwavering.
The herald's voice rang out, announcing the start of the joust. The trumpet blared, the signal for both knights to ready themselves.
Galahad's face remained calm, as if he were preparing for yet another routine contest.
The trumpet sounded, the joust began.
With a sharp click of their spurs, both knights urged their horses forward, the ground shaking with the thundering hooves.
Galahad's lance was aimed squarely at Ser Barristan's shield, while Barristan's own was locked onto its target, a momentary stillness hanging in the air before the crash of impact.
The sound of splintering wood filled the field as Galahad's lance shattered on Barristan's shield, while Barristan broke the tip of his lance off Galahad's shield. The crowd erupted, gasping as they watched the score unfold.
3-2 in Galahad's favor.
The second round saw both knights shatter their lances, neither willing to relent. The force of the collisions seemed to echo across the entire tournament grounds.
6-5 in Galahad's favor.
By the third tilt, Galahad's precision was clear. Barristan's lance was deflected by Galahad's shield, and in return, Galahad's own lance hit Barristan with such force that the seasoned knight barely held his balance.
The crowd roared, sensing that victory was drawing closer for the young knight.
9-5 still in Galahad's favor.
The fourth round was a brilliant shift in tactics from Galahad. Instead of aiming for Barristan's shield, he targeted the knight's shoulder.
The force of Galahad's lance strike caused Barristan pain. Even so Ser Barristan had still managed to shatter his lance into Galahad shield.
But the damage had already been done—Barristan's shoulder had been injured, he now struggled to raise his shield in time for the next tilt.
12-8 in Galahad's favor.
The final tilt began with Barristan struggling to raise his shield fully. Galahad, sensing the weakness, seized the moment, focusing his strike on the exposed area of Barristan's chest.
With a resounding crash, the lance struck home, sending Barristan off balance. The legendary knight flailed briefly before he was sent crashing to the ground, his body sprawled in the dirt.
The field was deafening. The crowd, unable to hold back their excitement, erupted into wild cheers. The sound of their voices melded together in a single, overwhelming cry.
"Galahad! Galahad! Galahad!"
The young knight rode around the arena, his face alight with a mixture of triumph and exhilaration. He waved to the crowd, his dark stallion prancing beneath him, each cheer and shout from the crowd an affirmation of his victory.
The smallfolk's voices were a tidal wave, calling his name as if he were their hero, their champion.
The herald's voice cut through the cacophony, his words clear and triumphant.
"The winner of the final joust, the champion of the tourney, is—Ser Galahad representing House Lannister!"
The crowds went wild again, the sound deafening as they chanted his name over and over, the young knight now etched into history.
Galahad had not only defeated Ser Barristan Selmy in the joust—he had solidified his place as one of the greatest knights to ever live.
…
Galahad POV
The atmosphere was electric, the cheers of the crowd still ringing in my ears as I sat atop Lancelot, victorious.
The herald's voice boomed across the arena, announcing the tradition of the "Crown of Love and Beauty," the reward for the victor.
"Here, Ser Galahad, as the winner of the joust, you may crown the love and beauty," the herald called out, handing the wreath of roses to me.
The roses that adorned the crown shimmered in the sunlight, casting a delicate glow that symbolized both admiration and affection.
I accepted it with a slight bow.
With a steady hand, I called out to one of the marshals standing by the edge of the field. "Could you fetch me a lance?"
The marshal obeyed quickly, passing me a fine, polished lance. I lowered it, ready for the next part of the ritual.
"Put the crown of love and beauty on the tip of my lance," I said, giving him the wreath of roses, my voice calm but firm.
The marshal did as I asked, securing the wreath on the tip of the lance. I urged my horse forward, the crowd murmuring in curiosity as I passed them by.
The roses fluttered on the lance, catching the light with each stride I took. I ignored the hopeful gazes of the noble ladies as I rode past them, my eyes set on a different target.
And then, to the shock of many, I turned Lancelot toward a particular section—the stands filled with the smallfolk.
I could hear the whispers and confused murmurs from the smallfolk and nobles alike, but I paid them no mind. This was where I wanted to go.
At the front of the fence, I saw her—a hooded figure that I recognized instantly.
Alicent.
I slowed Lancelot, my eyes locking onto hers. The moment I saw Alicent, everything else faded away. The crowd, the noise, the world—it all disappeared for a brief, perfect instant.
I lifted my visor, exposing my face to her. My golden hair fell loosely around my face, the sunlight catching in it, and my green eyes shone with a warmth meant only for her.
I could see the surprise in her eyes, the way her heartbeat quickened. I gave her a teasing smile, then extended my lance toward her, the crown of roses dangling from its tip.
Alicent's hands reached up, and for a moment, it was just the two of us—no one else mattered.
She took the crown from the tip of my lance, and I could feel the flush of her cheeks even beneath the hood.
Her heart raced, and I could hear it, a rhythmic pulse.
I then blew her a kiss, my eyes never leaving hers. Her smile was barely visible beneath the shadow of her hood, but it was there.
Her heartbeat, still quick, was music to my ears. She blew me a kiss back and made a heart sign. I smiled as our gaze lock at one another.
The whispers of the crowd filled the air as they tried to figure out who the mysterious maiden was.
Seeing that there was commotion about her identity, I looked toward someone behind her—it was Conrad, an underboss and my blood brother.
Conrad, understanding my signal, whispered into Alicent's ear, telling her that I wanted them to leave.
With that, Alicent disappeared into the crowd, her gaze momentarily on me as she melted into the sea of people, surrounded and protected by Lionheart members.
I smiled to myself. With this, I had created a special moment just for Alicent—a reward she truly deserved for her constant improvements.
It was something I'd been thinking about since the beginning of the tourney, a gesture to show her that I noticed her, that I appreciated her quiet strength and the ways in which she had grown.
…
Note: With this the Tourney Arc has finally come to an end!! Next chapter is the ending feast and dance.