章節 39: Chapter 39 - Queen Of Love And Beauty
122 AC
The sixth day of the sixth moon.
Ulf POV
As the melee commenced, my heart clenched with worry, silently offering prayers to the Seven for Hugh's safety. With every passing moment, my anxiety eased as I observed Hugh skillfully executing the strategies I had imparted to him. The initial relief, however, couldn't dispel the lingering unease caused by his outburst directed at Harlon. The poor lad looked utterly dejected, resembling a kicked puppy.
At times, I questioned why fate had saddled me with such emotionally turbulent boys. Nevertheless, my attention returned to the melee, curiosity piqued by the escalating intensity of the battles. Hugh found himself face-to-face with Criston, and the clash between them commenced. Yet, deep down, I knew it was premature for this encounter to transpire.
"Ten gold dragons," a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Ser Criston will prevail over your friend," Prince Aemond asserted confidently.
"Very well, I accept your wager," I replied, taking the bet without hesitation.
However, fate had other plans as the two combatants were abruptly separated, and the melee continued. Hours stretched on, each passing moment more intense than the last. Only a handful of knights remained on the field, and Hugh emerged as a warrior reborn, effortlessly dispatching his opponents as if they were mere sacks of wheat. My worries momentarily dissipated, replaced by a surge of pride and awe.
Then, a jolt of concern coursed through me as a knight landed a solid blow to Hugh's head, causing him to stagger and drop to one knee. Panic surged, but my fears were swiftly extinguished as Hugh regained his footing, retaliating with an unwavering determination that shook the very ground beneath him. The knight paid a heavy price for underestimating Hugh's resilience, left battered and broken by his relentless onslaught.
And so, the climactic finale unfolded—Hugh versus Criston—a sight to behold. The clash of his hammer against Criston's Morningstar was a deadly dance of strength and skill. For a fleeting moment, my thoughts drifted back to my conversation with the Kingmaker the previous day, souring my mood as the weight of our discussion settled upon me.
But in an instant, Hugh's hammer connected with a resounding impact, shattering Criston's armor and propelling him through the air. The crowd erupted in jubilation, their cheers and hollers echoing throughout the grounds. My elation knew no bounds, and I felt ecstatic beyond measure.
Glancing towards the royal dais, I caught sight of Prince Aemond, offering me a slight smile, accepting his loss gracefully. The Queen, on the other hand, unleashed a torrent of outraged screams, while Otto Hightower's expression morphed into one of pure vexation. Rhaenyra, radiant with joy, beamed alongside Daemon, their satisfaction evident. As for the king, a glimmer of intrigue sparkled within his eyes, hinting at his delight in the unexpected turn of events.
But as the jubilation reached its peak, an abrupt silence descended upon the crowd as Hugh stumbled and fell to the ground. Panic surged through me, and I hastily abandoned my seat, determined to ensure his well-being. With hurried steps, I made my way to the grounds, my mind consumed by worry.
Reaching Hugh's side, I observed the healers gathering around him, their experienced hands tending to his fallen form. Anxiety gnawed at my insides as I anxiously watched their every move. A wave of relief washed over me as I realized that, despite his fall, Hugh was still breathing steadily, and there appeared to be no immediate danger.
Perhaps the exhaustion from the demanding melee had taken its toll on him. It was not uncommon for such physical exertion to push even the strongest warriors to their limits. I silently hoped that this was merely a momentary setback, a consequence of his exertions rather than a more serious injury.
Harlon's concerned voice broke through my thoughts, seeking reassurance amid the worry that etched his face. I turned to him, my voice steady but laced with genuine conviction.
"Yes, Harlon, he will be alright," I replied, hoping to alleviate his fears.
"After all, he is Hugh the Hammer, a force to be reckoned with."
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As I peered through the window, the fading light of the sun indicated that it had already set beyond the horizon. My gaze shifted to Hugh, who bore the marks of his recent encounter with Ser Criston, his body bandaged and bruised. Nearby, Harlon sat on a chair, wearing a forlorn expression.
Suddenly, Hugh's body jolted upright, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Concerned, Harlon hurriedly approached the bed, calling out, "Hugh, are you alright?"
Swearing under his breath and struggling to catch his breath, Hugh's distress was evident. Sensing his unease, I stepped forward and locked eyes with him, urging him to take slow, deliberate breaths. He followed my guidance, gradually regaining control over his respiration.
"Did you have a bad dream, Hugh?" I inquired gently, trying to understand the source of his agitation.
Upon hearing my question, Hugh erupted into laughter, an unexpected response given the gravity of his earlier distress. Harlon and I exchanged concerned glances, uncertain about the cause of his sudden amusement.
"Of course, it was a dream," Hugh finally managed to say amidst his laughter, his voice tinged with relief. "After all, how could a mere hammer slay a dragon?" As soon as the words left his lips, a jolt of alarm surged through me, a sudden realization dawning upon me.
"Fudge!" I exclaimed inwardly, realizing the implications of his statement. Just then, a servant entered the room, interrupting my thoughts, and delivered an urgent message: the Crown Princess had graciously extended an invitation for me to join the royal family for supper.
As I stood by Hugh's side, his breath still heavy and his eyes searching for solace, I spoke with a gentle yet firm tone, trying to assuage his troubled mind. "Hugh, my friend, you must allow yourself to rest and not dwell too deeply on the haunting echoes of that dream."
Harlon, ever the loyal companion, turned his attention towards us, his concern mirrored in his eyes. I met his gaze and conveyed my request in a voice laden with urgency. "Harlon, I implore you to keep a watchful eye on Hugh, to prevent him from succumbing to any impulsive actions."
Receiving my instructions, Harlon nodded in silent agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation. His unwavering dedication to his friend's well-being was evident as he positioned himself by Hugh's side, ready to offer his steadfast support.
With trepidation and tenderness, I reached out to Hugh, enveloping him in a warm embrace. In that moment, the strength of our bond became palpable. "I am proud to call you my brother," I whispered softly, my voice thick with emotion. It was a sentiment I had long harbored but had seldom expressed. Hugh's eyes met mine, his vulnerability shining through, and a glimmer of a smile graced his weary face.
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As I entered the grand dining hall, a hush fell over the room. The entire royal family was gathered, resplendent in their regal attire. The nobles clad in black occupied the right side, while the greens, representing the loyalists, were seated on the left. It was evident that I had arrived last, as all eyes turned towards me, their gazes filled with curiosity and speculation.
"Why is he here?" the queen sneered, her voice laced with disdain.
"I invited him," came the confident voice of Rhaenyra, a touch of defiance in her tone.
"He is one of the finalists of the joust; therefore, it is only fitting for him to be present," Daemon interjected, his words carrying a sense of fairness.
Prince Daemon's statement caught me off guard. I quickly surveyed the room, realizing that among the remaining knights—Ser Criston, Ser Arryk of the Kingsguard, and Ser Gwayne Hightower—I was indeed the only one invited to this gathering. It dawned on me that Ser Criston, known as the Kingmaker, must have sustained an injury, preventing him from facing me in the joust and securing my place in the finals. I really should thank Hugh for that.
Aegon, casting a scornful glance in my direction, sneered, "It's a shame Ser Criston won't be able to put you on your arse during the joust."
Baela, not one to back down, retorted, "At least he doesn't spend his days sitting on his arse like you do." Her words drew a mix of shock and amusement from those present, with even princess Rhaenyra wearing a brief smile while her majesty appeared mortified.
"You dare speak to me in such a manner?" Aegon bellowed, causing Baela to visibly shrink in fear.
"Aegon!" King Viserys's voice rang out, commanding attention. "It was merely a jest. There is no need to be provoked so easily."
Visibly seething, Aegon reluctantly stifled his anger, aware of his father's reprimand.
"Ulf, please come and take a seat," Helaena beckoned, breaking the tension that had enveloped the room. Her casual use of my name, rather than the formal address of 'Ser,' raised a few eyebrows, particularly that of the queen. The Hand of the King, perceiving the implications of this act, looked slightly irritated.
With a mixture of humility and anticipation, I approached Helaena's side and settled into the seat she had reserved for me. As I sat down, the atmosphere in the room shifted, with all eyes briefly focusing on me, both in curiosity and intrigue.
Soon, an array of delectable dishes was served, each bursting with flavor and artfully prepared. The dining experience was a testament to the culinary prowess of the royal kitchen, leaving us all savoring every bite. The conversation flowed, albeit cautiously, as the intricate dynamics of the royal family played out before me.
"Ulf," the king addressed me, capturing my attention. I turned my gaze toward him, awaiting his words with respect.
"How is our champion of the melee faring?" he inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"Hugh is well, Your Majesty," I replied.
"Good," the king responded with a nod, his expression conveying a sense of satisfaction.
"On the morrow, I wish to have a conversation with both of you regarding your respective futures," he continued, his words carrying an air of anticipation. I acknowledged his statement with a slight inclination of my head, showing my readiness to comply.
To my surprise, I felt a gentle touch on my hand beneath the table. I glanced discreetly at Helaena, who had discreetly intertwined her fingers with mine, concealing our connection from prying eyes.
As the evening progressed, I engaged in conversations with various members of the royal family and courtiers, the atmosphere becoming more relaxed and convivial. The sumptuous feast continued, a tapestry of flavors and aromas enchanting our palates.
In the midst of the lively chatter and laughter that filled the grand hall, my eyes were irresistibly drawn to Helaena, who exuded an air of enchantment. With every stolen glance, I found myself captivated by the depths of her beautiful eyes, which shimmered like pools of liquid moonlight. There was a magnetic pull between us, an unspoken connection that transcended the boisterous atmosphere surrounding us.
As our eyes met, a subtle smile danced upon her lips, revealing a glimmer of intrigue. It was as if she, too, had noticed the unspoken bond between us. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the chaotic revelry fading into the background as the world narrowed down to just the two of us.
Amidst the symphony of conversations and clinking of goblets, we shared a silent exchange, our eyes communicating volumes that words could not express. It was as if a secret language flowed effortlessly between us, carrying whispers of curiosity, fascination, and perhaps even the hint of something more profound.
But then I remembered Ser Criston's words and a frown immediately marred my face.
The evening wore on, and as the final course was served, I contemplated the conversations yet to come. The king's mention of discussing our futures held the promise of significant changes, both exciting and uncertain. I pondered the possibilities that lay ahead, wondering what paths awaited me and what destinies would unfold.
"You can ask him, brother," came the playful voice of Prince Aemond.
The young prince Daeron turned his gaze towards me, a glimmer of curiosity dancing in his eyes. "Ser Ulf," he addressed me, his voice filled with anticipation, "if you emerge triumphant in tomorrow's joust, who shall you name the Queen of Love and Beauty?"
The question hung in the air, capturing the attention of everyone gathered at the table. The room fell into a hushed silence, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations momentarily subsiding. All eyes turned expectantly toward me, eagerly awaiting my response.
In that pivotal moment, my mind raced to consider the weight of my answer. It was a question that held more significance than it appeared on the surface—a question that could inadvertently shape the intricate web of alliances and aspirations that permeated the court. The pressure was palpable, and I felt the weight of the room's anticipation upon my shoulders.
"I appreciate your curiosity, young prince," I replied, my voice carrying a measured tone. "But such decisions are not made lightly or in haste." I paused, allowing the gravity of my words to settle among the gathered nobles. "The honor of naming the Queen of Love and Beauty is a privilege bestowed upon the victor, and it is a decision that requires deep contemplation and respect for the traditions of chivalry."
My heart yearned to utter Helaena's name, to proclaim her as the Queen of Love and Beauty should I emerge victorious in the joust. The mere thought of it ignited a tempest of emotions within me. Yet, reason swiftly intervened, reminding me of the scandalous implications such a decision would entail. Helaena was to be married on the morrow, and crowning her in such a public manner would create chaos and upheaval in the court.
But the turmoil within me was not limited to the realm of tradition and propriety. Helaena had suggested something equally scandalous—a clandestine escape from it all. She had whispered those words to me, painting a vivid picture of a life together, free from the constraints of society. Her plan involved eloping, where we could find solace in each other's arms, shielded from prying eyes by the mighty wings of her dragon, Dreamfyre. The memory of our late-night conversation lingered in my mind, its weight bearing down upon me as I grappled with conflicting emotions.
To pursue such a forbidden path would be to defy everything I had ever known, to cast aside the chains of duty and honor. But in the quiet depths of my soul, I could not deny the allure of Helaena's proposition. The thought of a life with her, away from the courtly intrigues and the ever-watchful eyes of the realm, held an irresistible appeal—a temptation that threatened to consume my every thought.
Yet, reality crashed down upon me like a merciless wave. The consequences of our actions would reverberate far beyond our own desires. The realm relied on stability, on the intricate dance of power and alliances woven through generations. To disrupt that delicate balance would risk plunging the Seven Kingdoms into chaos. And as much as my heart yearned for Helaena, I could not bear the weight of that responsibility.
Caught between the fervent whispers of my heart and the resounding echoes of duty, I found myself lost in a tempestuous sea of emotions. The decision before me was not merely about love and desire; it held the fate of kingdoms within its grasp. The consequences, both personal and far-reaching, hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate me with their weight.
As the dining hall buzzed with the echoes of laughter and conversation, I retreated into my own thoughts. I knew that I stood at a precipice, teetering between forbidden love and the greater good. The choice I made would shape not only my own destiny but also the course of Helaena's life and the stability of the realm.
In the end, I understood that duty would prevail, as it always had. The sacrifices demanded by our positions, the responsibilities we bore, were ingrained in the very fabric of our existence. To heed the call of my heart would be to relinquish the honor and integrity I had sworn to uphold. And so, with a heavy heart, I resolved to set aside my personal desires, to navigate the treacherous waters of courtly life with calculated discretion.
But one thing would forever endure—the indelible truth that Helaena would forever hold the title of Queen of Love and Beauty within the chambers of my heart. No matter the circumstances, no one could usurp her place, for her essence had etched itself upon my very being.
Love, in its purest form, defies the boundaries imposed by duty and circumstance. It exists beyond the realm of mortal constraints, flourishing in the depths of our souls. Love, at its core, is an ineffable connection, an unbreakable bond that transcends time and space.
What is love but a force that ignites our spirits, that kindles a flame within us? It is a beacon of warmth and solace amidst the cold winds of life. Love compels us to soar above the limitations imposed by society, to embrace the forbidden whispers of our hearts. It is the essence that drives us to seek that which brings us joy, even in the face of adversity.
Though the weight of duty may have guided my actions, it could never extinguish the flame that burned within me. Helaena, with her grace and beauty, had awakened a love within my soul that would forever endure. No matter the trials that lay before us, her memory would remain an everlasting testament to the depth of our connection.
In the corridors of my heart, she would forever reign as the Queen of Love and Beauty, an ethereal presence that would illuminate even the darkest corners of my existence. The world may never know of our forbidden longing, but it would forever be etched in the tapestry of our intertwined destinies.
Love, in its essence, defies explanation. It is a tapestry woven with threads of vulnerability, passion, and sacrifice. And though circumstances may have dictated a different path for us, our love would forever remain an untamed flame, flickering in the recesses of our souls.
In the grand tapestry of life, we are but players in a larger narrative, guided by the forces that shape our world. Duty may have prevailed, but love, that undying ember, would forever illuminate the chambers of my heart. For what is love if not a testament to the depths of our humanity, an eternal reminder that even in the face of adversity, our hearts will forever yearn for that which truly sets them ablaze.
The allure of Helaena's proposition would forever haunt me, a ghostly whisper of what might have been. Yet, I knew that the path I had chosen was one of duty and sacrifice, a path that would shape the future of the Seven Kingdoms, even if it meant denying the longing within my own soul.
After all, "Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty".
創作者的想法 
Last_Quincy
Last_Quincy There you have it folks, another chapter. I wish to know what are your thoughts on Ulf's predicament. No matter which path he decides to follow it will bring him pain.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票