Chapter 27 - A Knight is born

122 AC

The first day of the sixth moon

Ulf Pov

As I stood there, holding the armor in my hands, I knew what Hugh would say before I even asked him. He was my closest friend and the closest thing to family that I had left. But I had made up my mind, and I didn't need his help.

"You're mad, Ulf," Hugh said, shaking his head as he looked me up and down. "You can't go into the melee without armor. You'll get killed."

I knew what he was trying to say, but I wasn't worried. "I'll be fine," I said confidently. "I'm quick on my feet and I know how to dodge."

Hugh's worry was palpable as he stared at me. "But what if they hit you in the head? You could die."

I couldn't help but smile at his concern. "For that to happen, they would have to be able to hit me first," I said, trying to reassure him.

Hugh's expression turned somber as he looked at me. "I can't lose you, Ulf. You're the only family I have. The only one actually counts."

Hearing those words from Hugh made me feel grateful to have him in my life. No matter what happened, I knew he wouldn't betray me. He was always there for me, no matter what.

I knew the risks as I prepared to go into melee without armor. But I was confident in my abilities, and If something untoward were to happen then Hugh would intervene. It was a dangerous game, but it was one I was willing to play.

As I stepped onto the melee ground, the gazes of the squires immediately fell upon me. Their eyes betrayed their inexperience, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for them. After all, I planned to show no mercy.

Looking around, I saw that most of the knights were also inexperienced. It had been decades since a proper war had taken place, and many of them were summer knights who had never set foot on a battlefield. They were ill-prepared for what was to come. The 'Dance' would be a war like no other and I had every intention of surviving it no matter what It would take.

As I surveyed the scene before me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of confidence. I had been trained in combat since I was a boy and the added fact that the "Rogue" taught me the art of fighting in a melee made me feel more secure.

But the fact of the matter was that I was not sure how long I would be able to last. The main reason why I had ditched the armor was due to the fact that I would exhaust myself faster If I fought in that.

The squires watched me with a mix of awe and fear as I stepped onto the field. I could see the doubt in their eyes, but I didn't let it bother me. I knew that I had to lead by example, and I was determined to show them what it meant to be a true warrior.

I scanned the crowd of squires, but I couldn't spot the one I was looking for. There were at least fifty of them gathered there, all eager to prove their mettle in the coming melee. But the one I sought was nowhere to be found.

Just as I was about to give up hope, I caught sight of him. He was accompanied by a man wearing the colors of House Hightower, one of the great houses of the Seven Kingdoms. The man looked at me with a curious expression, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

Aemond, the squire I had been searching for, also looked at me appraisingly. I knew that he was sizing me up, trying to gauge my strength and skill. I had heard that he was a fierce fighter and had improved his skills back in Oldtown, and I knew that I would have to be at my best if I hoped to defeat him.

As the herald announced the names of the participants, I could hear the murmurs of the crowd around me. But when my name was called, the noise erupted into cheers and applause. I was surprised but also grateful for the support of the smallfolk, who saw me as one of their own.

The King began to give his usual speech, spouting platitudes about discipline and hard work. He acted as though he was the epitome of virtue and wisdom, but I knew better. He was a fool who had stumbled into power, and he had no idea what he was doing.

I looked around at the other squires, trying to gauge their reactions. Some of them seemed genuinely inspired by the fat fuck's words, while others looked bored or indifferent. I couldn't help but feel a sense of superiority over them. They were all so naive, so blind to the truth. Here they were listening to the man who doomed the entire realm by naming his whore of a daughter the heir which at the time seemed like a good decision but after the birth of his son should have been removed and replaced with his son and his decision on not doing so broke the precedent which helped the fool gain the iron throne.

In my opinion, Rhaenys should have been queen. She was the true heir to the throne, and she had the strength and intelligence to rule the Seven Kingdoms with wisdom and grace. King Viserys, on the other hand, was little more than a figurehead, a puppet controlled by his advisers and cronies the only reason that he became the king was because of the thing dangling between his legs.

I gripped the 'Morningstar' tightly in my hand as I surveyed the other squires around me. Some of them were wielding swords, but I knew that they were fools. Swords were useless in a melee, especially one where only blunted weapons were allowed.

I had chosen the Morningstar because it was the perfect weapon for this kind of fight. It was heavy and unwieldy, but it packed a powerful punch. With a single blow, I could knock my opponent off his feet and leave him vulnerable to attack.

Of course, there were always those who asked why I didn't use a sword. They were idiots who knew nothing about real warfare. In a true battle, only Valyrian swords were truly effective. But in a melee like this, blunted weapons were the only ones that mattered.

I watched as the other squires took their positions, waiting for the signal to begin. I knew that I had to stay focused and alert, ready to strike at a moment's notice. This was my chance to prove myself, to show the world that I was a skilled and capable warrior.

As the signal was given, I charged forward, my Morningstar swinging in a deadly arc. I felt a rush of adrenaline as I struck my first opponent, knocking him to the ground. I moved on to the next, dodging his clumsy attacks and delivering a powerful blow to his side.

The melee was chaotic and brutal, with squires falling left and right. But I refused to be intimidated. I fought with all my might, determined to emerge victorious.

I charged forward, swinging my Morningstar in a deadly arc as I struck my opponents one after the other. They came at me from all directions, but I refused to be intimidated. I moved quickly and decisively, attacking them once their guards were down and never giving them a chance to catch their breath.

But as the number of opponents I faced grew, I began to feel my strength sapping away slowly. My arms ached from the effort of swinging my heavy weapon, and my breath came in short, ragged gasps.

Still, I refused to give up. I pushed myself harder, fighting with all my might, determined to emerge victorious. I could see the look of surprise on my opponents' faces as I continued to strike blow after blow, never once faltering or hesitating

But even as I fought on, I could feel my energy draining away. My muscles burned with exertion, and my mind grew foggy and disoriented.

As the melee continued, I became increasingly aware of how little I knew about the passage of time. The cries of wounded squires echoed through the air, but I shut out all the noise, focusing solely on my opponents.

I felt the weight of my Morningstar in my hand, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Every time I struck an opponent, I felt a thrill of satisfaction, knowing that I was one step closer to victory.

But as the battle raged on, I began to lose track of time. Minutes must have blurred into hours but I had no idea how long it had been, and the cries of the wounded became nothing more than a distant hum in the background.

Despite the chaos around me, I remained focused on the task at hand. I moved quickly and decisively, never hesitating or second-guessing myself.

As I gave the finishing blow to a squire, I was suddenly hit from behind, causing me to fall to the ground. I couldn't comprehend what had just happened, and I couldn't even sense the person coming up from behind me. As I looked up, I recognized the colors of House Bracken on the squire who had attacked me.

My mind raced as I tried to regain my footing, realizing that there were only two opponents left. But just as I was about to rise to my feet, Aemond approached the squire wearing the Bracken colors, berating him for attacking an opponent from behind. The squire seemed taken aback, but Aemond didn't give him a chance to respond before launching into battle.

I watched as Aemond expertly wielded his weapon, moving with grace and precision as he battled the Bracken squire. Despite the odds being against him, Aemond fought with an unwavering determination, his eyes fixed firmly on the prize.

In the end, it was clear that Aemond had emerged victorious, defeating the Bracken squire with ease. As he turned to face me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for him. Despite his flaws and shortcomings, he was a true warrior at heart, and he had earned my respect.

As Aemond approached me, I couldn't help but think about the words of the Rogue Prince, who had asked me to teach Aemond a lesson and not hold back. However, I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of it, given my current state. My arms were burning, and I had very little stamina left.

When Aemond asked me if I could still fight, I didn't say anything and simply got up, ready to face my opponent.

As we stood facing each other, Aemond spoke up, "I wished to fight you when you were at your best. But I admire your determination to continue fighting, Ulf."

Despite his earlier arrogance, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Aemond. We were both fighters, both warriors who shared a passion for combat. And at that moment, I knew that I had gained his respect, even if only for a brief moment.

With a deep breath, I readied myself for the final showdown. There were no more opponents left, only me and Aemond. And as we charged towards each other, I knew that this was my chance to prove my worth, to show that I was not just a mere squire, but a warrior in my own right.

The sound of clashing weapons echoed through the air as Aemond and I continued to fight. My Morningstar connected with his sword, but his reflexes were too fast, and he blocked my attack. We circled each other, waiting for the right moment to strike. I could feel the sweat on my forehead and the pain in my arms, but I refused to give up.

I tried to get past his defenses which he just focused on defending himself but my Morningstar still hit his right knee. But then for a moment I lost my balance and it was then that his sword hit my ribs.

As I fell to the ground, I could feel the pain radiating through my body. My opponent, Aemond, had struck me hard, but I wasn't ready to give up just yet. As I struggled to get up, I remembered the teachings of Daemon Targaryen, who had told me that when facing a similarly worn-out opponent, I should throw my weapon as fast as possible, risking my life, but ensuring victory.

With renewed determination, I got up and saw that Aemond was also in pain, clutching his knee. It was the perfect opportunity to strike. I mustered all my strength and threw my Morningstar at him. The weapon hit his head, but his helm absorbed most of the damage. He was concussed, that much I could tell. Slowly, I made my way towards him and removed his helm, revealing a broken nose.

After the intense fight, as Aemond lay on the ground, I remembered his earlier words about wanting to apologize.

Slowly, I dragged Aemond towards the dais, and as I lifted his head, I reminded him of his earlier promise to apologize. Aemond was dazed and confused, seeing stars in front of his eyes, but he managed to whisper an apology. The words were barely audible, but I was sure the ones on the royal stand had heard it.

As I looked up at the dais, I couldn't help but notice the expressions of the royalty. Daemon was smirking at me while Aegon, on the other hand, had a look of pure loathing on his face. I could feel his gaze on me, and I knew that if looks could kill, I would be dead. Alicent and Otto were also staring at me, their eyes filled with pure hatred. But seeing their expressions, I couldn't help but grin. It was a small victory for me to see their disappointment.

Baela's face was glowing with delight, and Rhaena's expression conveyed contentment. Even Corlys, usually stoic, had a small smile on his face, indicating his approval. However, as my gaze shifted to Rhaenys, I noticed a stark contrast in her demeanor. Her face had turned ashen, and her eyes were fixated on me, conveying a sense of terror. It seemed as though she had seen something dreadful in me that others couldn't.

The cheers of the crowd grew louder and louder, and the herald announced my victory. The people went wild, chanting my name. I slowly raised my hands in the air, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over me. The fatigue that I was feeling was slowly being replaced by pure unadulterated joy.

As I stood there, basking in the cheers of the crowd, I raised my voice to address the lords and ladies of the realm. "My esteemed lords and ladies, I am humbled and honored to have emerged victorious in this glorious tournament," I declared, my tone commanding their attention. "I fought with every ounce of my strength and willpower, not for personal glory, but to uphold the honor of House Targaryen, and to defend the honor of my fellow squires."

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and I continued, my voice rising in passion. "And though I stand here as the champion, I do not stand alone. I stand with the unwavering support and encouragement of the man who taught me, Prince Daemon, and the unwavering faith and belief of all those who have stood by me in this journey."

With a flourish, I raised my arms high, "So I pledge to you, my lords and ladies, that I will continue to serve House Targaryen with unwavering loyalty and honor. May my victory here today inspire all those who believe in justice, courage, and chivalry. For the glory of the Seven Kingdoms, and the honor of House Targaryen!"

As my words echoed through the tournament grounds, the clapping grew louder and more enthusiastic. I felt my heart swell with pride as I stood there, basking in the glory of my victory and the adulation of the crowd.

Suddenly, the voice of Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.

"People of Westeros, my squire has shown his prowess in battle as well as his loyalty to House Targaryen," he boomed, his voice carrying across the entire field. "And so, it is my great honor to announce that he shall be knighted before you all today!"

My eyes widened in surprise as I saw Daemon descending the steps of the dais, Dark Sister in his hand. The cheers of the crowd grew even louder as he made his way towards me.

"Kneel," he commanded, and I obeyed, feeling a sense of awe and wonder wash over me.

As I knelt before him, I could feel the eyes of everyone in the crowd upon me, watching with rapt attention as the greatest knight in all of Westeros prepared to bestow the greatest honor a warrior could receive.

" Ulf, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your King or Queen, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?" he asked, his voice ringing out like a bell.

"I do," I replied, my voice ringing with conviction.

"Behold, people of Westeros, the White Knight!" he declared with a flourish, lifting the sword high into the air. "A true champion of House Targaryen, who has proven his mettle in battle, his unwavering loyalty, and his unbreakable commitment to the code of knighthood. Let it be known that he is not only the victor of this squire's melee but also the youngest knight in the history of our great kingdom!"

As his words faded away, I felt a sense of pride welling up inside me. The weight of Dark Sister on my shoulder was both a symbol of my achievement and a reminder of the solemn oath I had just taken. I was now a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, and my duty to defend the innocent, uphold justice, and serve my liege lord would be a lifelong calling.

The cheers of the crowd continued to ring in my ears as I knelt before Daemon, feeling a mixture of awe and gratitude. With a gentle touch, he tapped my left shoulder with the flat of Dark Sister and spoke the words that sealed my new status.

"Rise, Ser Ulf the White Knight," he said solemnly, his eyes gleaming with approval. "May you wear your spurs with honor, and prove yourself worthy of the title you now hold."

At that moment, I knew that my life would never be the same. I had been given a great responsibility, one that I would carry with me for the rest of my days. But I was ready for it, ready to defend those who could not defend themselves, to protect women and children, and to fight bravely whenever I was called upon.

For I was the White Knight, the youngest knight in the history of Westeros, and I would do everything in my power to uphold the ideals of knighthood and serve House Targaryen with honor and distinction.