This whole story was written as a chapter of the fanfiction A Legacy of Flames that explores the moment known as the Defiance of Duskendale and describes what could have happened in canon when Aerys II Targaryen accepted Lord Denys Darklyn's invitation to hear about the charter he asked. As you may remember, this was the moment were the reign of Aerys started to fall into madness and he grew fearful of blades and started to be paranoid about his enemies.

Since there is not a lot of fanfiction material about this moment of ASOIAF, I decided to publish this as a oneshot, besides being a chapter of the fanfiction I mentioned. The fanfiction in question explores what could have happened if the events of the Defiance's aftermath had been different, and Rhaegar had married another lady and not Elia Martell. Check it out in my bio, if you are curious.

If not, I hope you still can enjoy this oneshot.

THE DEFIANCE OF DUSKENDALE

ROSBY ROAD

The storm broke during the first day.

"Shit," Uttered Ser Gwayne, as the rain clashed against his armor. The journey to Duskendale could be done in a day and a half at a hasty pace, but not with a muddy road and rainy wind gusting against their eyes.

As predicted, things started going amiss as they proceeded along the Rosby Road. The walls of King's Landing disappeared behind them, lost in a sea of mist. The horses whined angrily, the soldiers shivered inside their armors and the king, more than anyone else, started growing irritated. He barked orders from his horse and complained about Gwayne's capacity to lead their small force.

"This is not a royal procession down the streets of the capital, ser Gwayne." He yelled, when they stopped at Robsy for the first night. Edwin Hayford, squiring to the king, trembled while pouring him wine. "The men are lazy and slow because you let them be. Make sure they travel swiftly on the morrow or I will find a whip to teach them myself."

Even so, sometimes Gods mock the words of kings.

As they resumed their journey under heavy rain, it was the king the one delaying them. A stone entered the horseshoe of his stallion, forcing them to stop for three hours while a man was sent to the nearby village to find a blacksmith. The hope of reaching Duskendale was crushed by something as simple as rock in a horseshoe. Under rain it was decided they would take shelter on the trees of a nearby wood.

"Autumn is upon us." The king seemed to have forgotten his remarks from the previous night. He had changed out of his armor and seemed more comfortable in his tunic. Besides, a glass of wine helped sooth his mad humor. "Yet, I'm sure this vile storm is the work of the myrish whore that oaf took for a wife. I will have her eyes gorged out, and her tongue ripped apart, before I give her a witch's death."

Ser Gwayne was given the privilege of dining with the king that night, since there were no much more companions riding with them. The escort of thirty-soldiers had some distinguished guests among them, but the king didn't want that sort of company for dinner. Even I deserve a break from those worms, he justified.

"Tywin wanted me to travel by sea." Aerys said, extending his hand to catch a few drops of rain leaking through the tent's roof. It was astounding how his jealousy for the Hand came up even miles away from the city. "But as I told him, the harlot could play a trick on us. How many stories have we heard about ships sinking thanks to a witch's curse?"

"Yes, Your Grace. It was the right decision." Gwayne replied, refusing Edwin Hayford. The squire was about to serve him wine. "Water for me, boy."

As the squire poured water into his cup, he reflected again on the stories he had heard. Spells of water and fire. He had no place in his heart for magic. He had never believed the tales of old. At his eyes, it was simply an Autumn storm. Nevertheless, it was easier to agree with the king, than to start an argument over an obscure topic like magic. He was no maester.

The conversation went down a different path, as Aerys started reminiscing about the War of the Ninepenny Kings. They could have been delayed, sleeping on tents across the road, but the King was oblivious. He retold them how he had become a knight, somewhere in a battlefield in the Stepstones. Obviously, he omitte the part Gwayne knew for himself: that Tywin Lannister had been the one dubbing him knight.

"One day, if you are lucky, boy…" He told his squire, patting him on the arm. The lad was standing beside the king's chair, holding the wine jug. "One day you might be knighted on a battlefield. I have plans to expand our territories very soon, perhaps even across the sea."

Gwayne forced a smile, noticing the king was looking for his approval.

The man was already known for pronouncing harsh words. Or rushed ones. Years ago, Gwayne had heard him talk about building a New Wall beyond the one manned by the Night's Watch, so that new territories could be claimed farther North. Later, he had given up such an idea, but defended the founding of a new city, made of marble stone, on the other shore of the Blackwater Rush. Ideas from a mind that dreamt with greatness. But once again, the Kingsguard knew better not to ask.

"But before anything else, I will deal with Lord Denys." The king continued, sipping from his third glass of wine. "I know exactly how to deal with his sort."

Not much later, the king dismissed him, while his squire helped him change to bed. Gwayne walked out of the pavilion, allowing the king his privacy for a few moments.

Somehow, the cold meat served at dinner revolved in his stomach. He was nervous. How will he deal with Lord Darklyn?, Gwayne asked himself, biting the inside of his mouth. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had given him some words before leaving the capital, since he had partaken on the Small Council meetings.

"The king insists going on his own, but we don't believe he will be endangered." Ser Gerold Hightower had told him, convincingly. "His Grace is to be a guest of Lord Denys to hear his petition regarding his request for a charter. That's all, or so we hope."

But then he had closed his lips, tightening them into a thin line.

"Be aware, nonetheless." He added, his eyes stopping for a few seconds on the sword on his hilt. "The king may decide unexpectedly upon the matter—"

And bring a storm upon our heads.

Well, his duty was to protect the king, not to detain him from saying rash words. If protection was needed, his sword would be fast and just. I will shed my blood for the blood of the crown, he had sworn when taking his vows many years ago.

Unless…

May the Seven bring you back safely, ser.

The voice of the queen echoed again in his mind. A sweet song of fear. As the light rain fell upon his head, Gwayne looked to the cloudy sky above. What if?, he wondered, feeling the raindrops kiss his skin. Three years ago, he had seen the lower lip of the queen red with blood, where the king had stricken her. It was a vivid memory. Aerys had accused the queen of laying with other men and had slapped her in a moment of rage. There was not a soul at court that didn't know the one sleeping outside marriage was him.

"That is blood of the crown." Gwayne had taken no time sharing with the Lord Commander what he had seen. "Should we allow the king to do as he pleases with the queen?"

His cause was a hopeless one.

Ser Gerold had no comfort for him.

"But the true crown is upon whose head, ser?" He asked, peremptorily. "You are an honorable knight. But you shan't meddle in the matters that happen behind the royal bedchamber's door."

Gwayne had decided to be a knight the day his mother had been killed by his father. He was five-years-old, a scrawny boy and the youngest of five children, but he still remembered the pool of blood. The knife in the stomach of his Mother. His Father next to her, drunk, oblivious to his crime. The septon had said once that the man who fought for those unable to defend themselves was an honorable man, so he decided to become one of those men.

"Before swearing vows to the Crown, I swore holy vows to defend the weak, ser." He tried to argue with every argument that came to his mind, but yet again the Lord Commander reminded him that the white cloak on his back made him something more than a mere knight.

"You will lose your head if speak against the king." Ser Gerold said, kindly. "Your intentions are noble. The Seven Kingdoms need more men like you. But this is a cruel world, Ser Gwayne."

Making his peace with the Seven, Gwayne decided then to serve Queen Rhaella anyway he could, never betraying his king. It was a thin line to thread. Nevertheless, he was willing to do it, even if he had to serve her in secret, giving her little bits of comfort. But then, he had saw the hurt tormenting her body, right after the king forbid her to visit Prince Viserys.

It was then he had started to wonder.

What if I were to fail my king?

Those were danger thoughts he wouldn't dare speak out loud.

I shall pray for you to keep my husband safe, she had said after blessing him. He could still feel her breath, coming from the door. And the scent of her skin, sweet as flowers with a touch of rain.

Her mouth uttered a prayer, but not her heart.

As the rain started pouring heavily, he gulped, putting his demons aside.

"The king is abed, Ser Gwayne." The squire said, his head appearing between the flaps of the tent. "You can come in."