Cersei's Fury

The instant Davion sent Jaime flying with his lance, the noble spectators in the stands cried out in shock.

The roaring tournament grounds were swept by a sudden commotion.

Cersei sprang from her seat, her voice full of barely concealed anxiety as she shouted:

"Someone! Go and see how Jaime is! Is he hurt?"

Cersei's feelings toward Jaime had always been too complicated to put into words.

If those feelings were measured on a scale of ten, pure love probably accounted for less than one point.

Her concern for Jaime was more a matter of intense possessiveness.

This man, whom even their father Tywin could not fully control, obeyed her every word. That sense of control gave her, alone in King's Landing amid the maelstrom of power, the satisfaction of holding great power in her hands.

From the beginning, she had drawn Jaime to her side to resist Tywin's control, and Jaime's consummate martial prowess gave her the firmest sense of security.

That was precisely why she had opposed Tywin with all her strength when he demanded that Jaime resign from the Kingsguard and return to the Westerlands to inherit the family estate.

In Cersei's mind, Jaime was her possession, her support, someone no one else could touch, much less defeat.

Now Jaime had actually been defeated by an obscure, down-and-out lord, and might even have been injured!

She could no longer control the panic and anger within her. Every emotion showed on her face.

Beside her, Robert rocked with laughter, paying no heed to Cersei's feelings, his voice brimming with mockery and delight:

"Hahahahaha! Cersei, there's no need to be so nervous. Injuries are inevitable in a joust!"

Seeing Jaime defeated brought Robert nothing but joy!

"I thought the Kingslayer was supposed to be so formidable, but it turns out he's nothing special. He actually lost to that little brat from House Haigh! Hahahahaha! Send a few maesters over to see how badly our Kingslayer is hurt."

In contrast to Cersei's panic and Robert's loss of composure, Tywin Lannister remained expressionless.

He watched closely, and once he saw that Jaime could still move after landing, his mind was at ease.

Sure enough, just as the attendants and maesters rushed to Jaime's side, he abruptly rolled over, rose to his feet, and hurled his helmet to the ground.

Jaime moved his left arm a little, his brows knitting tightly as his expression grew uglier.

Clearly, his left arm was injured.

He stared fixedly at Davion, who was circling the grounds in celebration, his eyes filled with resentment. He spat hard and cursed:

"Damned bastard!"

All his swagger from before the match was gone!

Then he shook off the attendant who tried to help him remove his armor, turned, and strode out of the grounds.

The attendants and maesters behind him dared not delay and hurried after him.

Seeing Jaime get up and leave on his own, Cersei and Tyrion felt their anxious hearts settle.

Cersei suppressed her anger, quietly summoned a maid, and leaned close to whisper a few instructions in her ear.

Then she turned her gaze back toward Davion on the field, her eyes sharp as knives and filled with undisguised malice!

He had dared hurt someone who belonged to her, dared disgrace the Lannisters. She would make Davion pay.

Davion knew nothing of this. He had not noticed at all that the queen's wrath was quietly closing in on him.

Watching Jaime's retreating figure, he was filled with frustration and cursed inwardly:

Fuck, how could he just leave like that? He could at least have stayed to discuss the ransom! Shit!

That Kingsguard armor he's wearing is made of fine materials, with exquisite workmanship. It must be worth plenty of gold dragons. If he just leaves like that, who am I supposed to ask for the money?!

Jaime's departure without a word instantly extinguished Davion's joy at winning, leaving him preoccupied with the ransom that had slipped away.

He made one final, perfunctory circuit of the field before riding out of the tournament grounds to the rest area outside.

At that moment, the contestants in the next semifinal, Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, and Barristan Selmy, were sitting beneath separate awnings.

The Mountain truly lived up to his nickname.

He was built like a giant. Simply sitting beneath the awning, he resembled a massive black mountain, radiating suffocating pressure, his entire presence savage and bloodthirsty.

Across from him, however, Barristan looked composed and relaxed, as though he thought nothing of the savage beast that was the Mountain.

That was only natural. Barristan was already in his fifties, and throughout his long service in the Kingsguard, he had fought countless hard battles and encountered all manner of formidable opponents.

In his eyes, the Mountain's brute-force ferocity was still far too immature, and he had long since grown accustomed to such things.

Both men were fully armored, clearly ready to enter the field and face each other at any moment.

Davion had an awning of his own, right beside Barristan's.

He dismounted, and Gendry hurried over, offering him a cup of ale with some excitement in his voice:

"My lord, you were incredible! You actually defeated Ser Jaime!"

Davion took the cup and drained it, handed the empty cup back to Gendry, then took the towel from his hands and casually wiped the sweat from his face:

"Are you that surprised I beat him? I'm your lord!"

Just then, Barristan walked over slowly, a gentle smile on his face and admiration in his eyes:

"Earl Davion, congratulations on winning the match. Your performance just now was outstanding!"

Davion glanced at him and casually tossed the towel to Gendry, his tone flat and cold:

"Thank you for the compliment."

Barristan was not offended by his coldness. In his view, it was only natural for someone so young and so powerful to have a measure of pride.

"Earl Davion, if I may ask, why did you refuse the Knight of Flowers Loras's offer to knight you?"

"Knighthood is an honor countless young men and warriors throughout the Seven Kingdoms pursue all their lives. Why did you reject it so readily?"

Barristan had thought highly of Davion's potential from the very beginning.

When he learned that Davion had yet to be knighted, he had already begun to feel the urge.

To knight a powerful young man with a limitless future was a tremendous honor for the one bestowing it as well.

Now that Davion had even defeated Jaime Lannister, Barristan's desire to knight him had only grown firmer.

Davion spoke with a measure of disdain:

"Knighthood? I've never had any interest in that title."

Barristan raised his eyebrows, clear surprise appearing on his face:

"Knighthood can attest to fine qualities such as loyalty, courage, and integrity. It can also demonstrate your standing and earn you greater recognition among the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms. Why do you hold it in such disdain?"