Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 24: The Interesting Squire

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Elia Martell POV

I stood in the courtyard atop Casterly Rock, the sun high above me and the sea winds whipping through the air. My mother's words still hung in my mind—"Make friends with your suitor." 

She had meant Jaime Lannister, of course, but it had been three days, and I had made no progress. The reason was simple: Jaime was ten years younger than me, still a child with his golden curls and bright green eyes. Trying to engage with him felt awkward, forced. 

But there was one more reason why I couldn't get his attention. Jaime and his sister, Cersei, seemed far more interested in spending time with the squire who had become something of a mystery—Galahad. 

Galahad, as I now know, was a son of a whore who became a squire to Kevan Lannister and has since gained favor with the Lannisters.

Looking back, I had first seen Galahad in Lannisport when my family arrived to meet with Kevan Lannister. It was a political visit, an introduction to ensure the Martells' presence was acknowledged in the Westerlands. Galahad had been there, standing quietly in the background. 

At first glance, I had thought him a typical Lannister squire—tall, with the same golden hair and green eyes that marked the blood of Casterly Rock.

Oberyn, always quick with his jests, had remarked that Galahad looked more like a Lannister than a lowly squire. I had laughed then, dismissing the comment as one of Oberyn's usual quips. But now, after days of observing the boy, I wasn't so sure my brother's joke had been entirely in jest.

There was something odd about Galahad. He wasn't just another squire, that much was clear. Servants spoke of him with a kind of reverence, knights treated him with respect beyond his station, and even the Lannisters themselves seemed to regard him with a strange fondness. 

A squire of low birth, a boy whose mother was rumored to have been a whore—yet he walked among them as if he belonged.

One day ago, my interest deepened when Galahad defeated my brother, Oberyn, in less than 10 seconds. After that, I began watching his spars more closely, observing his actions from time to time.

He was kind to the servants, exuding confidence while speaking and sparring with the knights, and he seemed carefree and playful with the Lannister twins.

Now, as I stood in the courtyard, watching Jaime and Cersei speak excitedly with Galahad, I couldn't help but wonder if there was truth to the rumors. Was Galahad truly the son of a whore, or was there more to his story? Could he be a Lannister bastard, hidden away from the world but protected by the family's powerful name?

He was a mystery that began to gnaw at me. My focus should be on Jaime, yet somehow I found myself drawn to Galahad instead. 

"May I speak with you, Galahad?" I approached him, watching as he playfully sparred with Jaime and Cersei.

Galahad noticed me immediately, pausing his mock fight with the twins. His expression shifted from playful to slightly surprised as he stood up straighter. "Hello, Princess Elia," he greeted me, his tone respectful, though there was still a trace of surprise in his eyes. "You wish to speak with me?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Before Galahad could respond, Cersei and Jaime tugged at his arms, eager to continue their game. They paid me no mind, determined to keep him in their fun.

"A moment, young Cersei, young Jaime," Galahad said, smiling down at them. "Why don't you play a quick game of tag, hmm? I won't be long."

The twins stood stubbornly in place, clearly unconvinced by his offer. Galahad chuckled softly, then reached into a small leather pouch at his side, pulling out a neatly wrapped bundle. He carefully unfastened it, revealing two small, homemade cakes. The scent was sweet, tempting, and the twins' eyes lit up immediately.

"How about this? I'll give you both a taste of my special cakes," he said with a grin. "But only if you agree to play for a while."

With wide smiles, Cersei and Jaime eagerly accepted the cakes. They took a bite, exchanged happy looks, and then ran off, calling out for each other as they began their game of tag.

Galahad turned his attention back to me, his expression shifting from playful to attentive. "Now, Princess," he said, his tone polite, "what is it you wish to speak of?"

"Hmm, what was that?" I asked, my curiosity piqued as I glanced at the leather pouch from which Galahad had produced the cakes. I'd never seen anything like them before. The outside looked savory, almost like bread or cheese, but when the twins bit into it, I saw a flash of red and white cream.

"Would you like some?" Galahad must have noticed my interest and offered, his tone casual. I hesitated, not wanting to appear childish. After all, I was older than him by several years. I opened my mouth to decline, but before I could, he had already taken out another one and held it out toward me.

"Here," he said, offering it with a smile.

The sweet scent reached me—a mixture of something floral and fresh bread. I hesitated only a moment before accepting. As I bit into the pastry, the burst of flavors hit me at once—the cream inside was sweet with a hint of sour, unlike anything I had ever tasted. It was blissful, and for a moment, I forgot myself, savoring each bite slowly.

When I looked up, I realized Galahad was watching me, a small smile playing on his lips. After finishing the cake, embarrassment crept over me, but before I could say anything, he surprised me again.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, gently pressing it to my lips. "You've got cream on your lips, princess," he said softly.

I froze, completely caught off guard, feeling my face flush with both surprise and embarrassment.

"Galahad, it's getting boring. Come play with us!" Cersei's voice broke the moment, and I saw her frowning impatiently from across the courtyard.

"Alright, alright," Galahad called back. He turned to me, an apologetic look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Princess Elia, but I've got to get back to my game with the little lord and lady."

Before I could protest, he placed the handkerchief in my hand, then quickly moved to join the twins, already laughing as they resumed their play.

I stood there, stunned, staring at the handkerchief in my hand. I smiled. Galahad was far more interesting than I'd expected. I sighed, watching him play with the twins. I would find another time to figure him out.

…

Oberyn Martell POV

I stood in the training yard, face to face with Galahad, Kevan Lannister's squire. The boy's origins were as much a mystery as his skill, and I had once jested, wondering aloud if he was secretly a Lannister. He certainly looked the part—golden hair, green eyes, and an air of quiet confidence that both intrigued and irritated me.

The previous day, I had dueled him, spurred on by his audacious choice of weaponry: two swords. It reminded me of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, my dear friend who had recently sworn his loyalty to the Kingsguard. 

I had assumed he was merely showing off, perhaps trying to win favor by twirling his twin swords like some street performer. The thought soured in my mouth. So I challenged him, intent on humbling the boy.

Gerion Lannister, who had swiftly become my friend, thanks in no small part to his knowledge of the brothels in Lannisport, had warned me against it.

"Galahad's a squire, sure, but he's better than any knight we have. You'll see," Gerion had said.

I had laughed. I thought Gerion was exaggerating, or worse, playing a trick on me for his own amusement. But now, standing here, the truth had hit me like a warhammer.

Sweat clung to my skin, and my muscles screamed as I tried to match his relentless speed. Galahad moved with unnatural precision, his twin blades flashing in the midday sun, forcing me backward with every strike. Each blow pushed me to retreat; each movement demanded a new level of sharpness that I hadn't expected.

Yesterday, I had underestimated him—made a fool of myself in front of my sister Elia and her maid. He had put me on the ground in less than ten seconds. Ten! The humiliation still burned in my chest. Today, it would be different. I had resolved to outlast him, to wait for the perfect moment and strike like the viper I was famed to be.

"Quit while you can, Oberyn!" Gerion called from the sidelines. "Galahad's never lost a duel!"

Lannister knights laughed, their jeers ringing in my ears. My sister and her maid were calling out, trying to rally me with words of encouragement. But their voices were distant. The only thing that mattered was Galahad—the boy in front of me.

I shifted my stance as the duel resumed, my spear held high, my eyes tracking his every movement. The length of my weapon gave me the advantage of distance, or so I thought. But that space vanished in an instant as Galahad closed the gap with alarming speed. I thrust the spear toward him, but he dodged as if he knew my intentions before I had even acted.

I followed up with a strike from the shaft, aiming for his head. It was a calculated risk, one I thought he couldn't possibly block. But he did. Effortlessly.

His movements were impossibly quick, like a breeze that could not be caught. No matter how fast or precise I was with my spear, Galahad was faster. He ducked and weaved, always at the perfect angle to avoid the blow by the narrowest margin. His footwork was light, almost dance-like. And with every second, I could feel my energy draining.

Then he stopped.

Removing his helmet, he revealed a calm, collected face—without a single drop of sweat. His green eyes glimmered with something like amusement.

"You're good, Prince Oberyn," he said, his lips curling into a small smile. "But this is the end. It's been fun playing with a viper."

And then, in a whirlwind of motion, he unleashed a five-part combo that I had no hope of defending. His twin swords struck in perfect harmony, a deadly rhythm that disarmed me in seconds. My spear flew from my hands, and before I could react, Galahad had knocked me to the ground once again.

I lay there, breathless and beaten, staring up at the clear sky. Once again, I had been bested by the boy.

But instead of frustration or anger, a smile crept onto my lips. Galahad is a interesting lad. He moved with a skill and confidence far beyond his years.

I closed my eyes, I had compare him to Arthur Dayne, but he might be better.

…