Rewritten.
Declaimer: Forgot to do this before, but I don't own GOT ASOIAF or LOTR and blaa blaaaa etc.
The Dagor Dagoroth, the Last Battle of all time, the Day of Doom had begun.
Morgoth, having regained the splendour of his days as Melkor, thrust through the Door of Night beyond the Walls of the World, and into the Timeless Void.
Melkor came ere and destroyed the Sun and Moon, and thus was Arien and Tilion lost forever.
But great Eärendil came, descending upon Melkor as a white and searing flame and drive him from the airs.
In that day, Tulkas, Champion of Valinor came forward, and on his right hand lays Eönwë, and on his left hand was Turin Turambar, Dragon Helm atop his head, and Gurthang, the black sword that Eöl wrought shalt be in his hands, and thus forever and ever shalt the Drakes of Melkor cursed the dread blade of Turin.
With the power of the Valar, and Eru Ilúvatar flowing through his veins, Turin son of Hurin dealt unto Melkor, the first and foremost of the Valar's death.
And thus was the Children of Hurin, and all Men's lamentations avenged.
But the dread Iron of Death is a cursed, if ultimately powerful blade, and it stole the power of Melkor. Granting Turin power beyond all but Eru Ilúvatar.
Such power is not meant to flow within the veins of any human, or Valar.
And in recompense, Arda shook, and Turin disappeared from all but the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar.
Thus spaketh Námo, Lord Mandos.
Prince Thurin of House Baratheon was merely eight namedays old, he was different than his siblings, black of hair instead of gold, greyish icy blue eyes instead of their Lannister looks. He was what most refered to as a true Baratheon, but he was different at the same time. Fairly tall for his age, he stood at about five foot five and a half, broad shoulders proof of his harsh training regime and heritage.
Thurin rarely spoke unless it was needed, though it had gotten better in his later years. But fire lay in his eyes too, the fire Turin once held, and he rarely forgave injustice.
'Ours is the Fury.'
He was a fighter, a warrior, a reader, and a planner in secret.
And one of his many plans were almost ready to take place.
He was to meet with his father and the Small Council.
And then his master plan would begin.
Red Keep
Thurin entered softly and slowly, his eyes finding Rowan who stood patiently for him. "Are those the scrolls and diagrams needed?" he asked softly.
"Yes, these are all the ones we worked on together." Rowan answered, his black hair laced with grey moving in the wind.
"You're just in time, the King and the Small Council have gathered just now." Rowan said, he was a tall man with tanned skin and black hair, and strongly built even though he was approaching Fifty and Nine years of age.
"You haven't ever been in politics before have you Rowan? You're a soldier who has loyally fought in many wars, among them were my Father's Rebellion and The Greyjoy's Rebellion, you've been in the army your entire life. Are you absolutely sure?" Thurin asked carefully, watching the honest, yet strict man.
"I am my Prince." Rowan answered with a small smile on his aging face.
"Then shall we begin?" Thurin asked humorously, for it had already begun
Thurin stopped before walking into the chambers of the Small Council. "I'm afraid we might have to worry about Lord Baelish, if we do then we'll eliminate him."
Rowan stopped and gave a toothy smile as a response as they stepped into the chambers.
Robert Baratheon sat in his chair, seated around the table in the centre along with his advisors. The man smiled as his favourite son entered.
"There you are my boy, I was worried that I might've needed to send someone to fetch you for me. So tell me, why have you asked our presence? What's on your mind my son?" Robert asked, his ice blue eyes searching Thurin's face curiously.
"Father," He nodded to Robert, "Council Members," He nodded to the rest at the table, "Allow me to introduce Rowan," He stepped back slightly and inclined his head towards Rowan, "He is here to help me with my proposition."
"Your Grace," Rowan bowed respectfully as he spoke, "It's been some time since I last saw you, not since the Trident."
"Oh? You fought at the Trident?" Robert asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
"I did Your Grace, as well as the Greyjoy's Rebellion," Rowan answered respectfully, "I lead a charge against the Dornishmen. Do you perhaps remember me?"
"I might," Robert began, "Were you perhaps the one that drove back some of the Kingsguard at the Trident?" He asked slowly, staring at Rowan, before nodding.
"Indeed that was I, Your Grace. It was an honour beyond words to serve you in the act of bringing down Mad King Aerys." Rowan replied in turn.
"Aye that it was, but it was even better riding the world of that blasted fucking Rhaegar." Robert responded darkly, old memories sharpening his fury.
"Shall we begin the meeting? I'm interested to hear this proposal. Your Grace." Varys, the Master of Whispers spoke slyly.
"I too would like to hear this proposition." Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships said.
"I'd like to third that notion. I'm interested in what my nephew wants to say." Renly the Master of Laws said.
"Very well," Robert sighed, "Thurin my son, tell us your proposal."
"Father, during the feast just five day ago, you talked about how the armies of Westeros are all loyal only to their homelands and not the Crown. You said it was silly that the King has no real army of his own. Do you remember," Thurin asked, he didn't wait for a response before he began again, "You said it would be better if there was a Royal Army that serves the King, and not the various Kingdoms."
"Aye." Robert replied.
"Father, when I heard you say those words. A plan formed in my mind, I contacted my friend Rowan, and together, I designed a Royal Army for the Crown." Thurin remarked carefully, his eyes meeting Robert's.
"I was drunk when I said that son….." Replied Robert.
Thurin looked down at the scrolls, before looking up at his father, "I know that, but I believe that the Royal Army will benefit the Kingdom as a whole."
"Care to explain young one?" Asked Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King.
Thurin's eyes turned to stare at the aged hand in respect and admiration. "Yes, Grandfather," He paused, shocking himself, before smiling at the honourable Hand.
Jon Arryn merely smiled in response.
Thurin craned his head. "The Kingdoms are too divided. A strong ruler could keep them in check for a time, but the moment a weakness presents itself, the plotting and scheming begins," He paused, watching his father move in his chair uncomfortably in recognition, "One of the ultimate reasons this happens is because their Armies only serve their interests, while the King does without one, which shows weakness and lesser power in the Lords eyes."
Thurin's eyes watched Baelish carefully before he continued, "But a Royal Army for the King, would show strength and power, making the King appear to them as being stronger, and thus can keep them in check."
His eyes moved across their faces calculatingly, evaluating them like a Hawk does to their prey. "The Royal Army will be the strongest standing army in Westeros, it will draw from all the Kingdoms, and because of that unification can form among them also."
"Impressive." Varys noted ever slyly.
Thurin's gaze snapped to look at Varys in curiosity and suspicion. The man seemed to generally be working for the wellbeing of the Realm, but he was certain that there was something behind it, something behind the mask.
'I'll have to keep an eye on that man…' His eyes turned to calculate the others.
"Ambitious, I like it. Nephew I give my blessing." Renly spoke approvingly.
"The idea is sound, I think it will benefit and improve the loyalty of the Realm, it will definitely increase the Kings power," Stannis said, his eyes staring at Thurin, "But I'd like to know what exactly this army is."
"Very well," Thurin said as he turned and nodded to Rowan, who handed them their papers and scrolls. "This army will be formed by the faction that we named the Legions. The Legions will be ultimately led by the Marshal-Generals, but the Centurion, will be the Second in Command."
He let his words sink in, before he continued, "I will begin with the first of the many forces the Legions shall have. It is the infantry," He said, watching them carefully, "The Infantries, along with the entire legions armour shall be made from Mithril the metal that I discovered."
He waited a few second to catch his breath, before continuing, "This Mithril will be smithed into being like plate armour, but far stronger. It will be impervious to most arrows and weapons, even axes,"
He paused, his grey orbs glowing, "Only something of comparable metal working should be able to break the armour," He noted, his eyes turning to stare at his papers, "The main weapon used by the Infantry will be a Halberd made from Mithril, the Halberd is a weapon I and Rowan devised," He stopped, inclining his head towards Rowan, who merely nodded.
"The Halberd is made to be able to break Cavalry with its polearm, trip horses and people, bash armour, and cut through most armours, it's meant to be better than a pike," He said, eyes glinting, "The Infantry will also be equipped with a short sword, and javelins that can be launched, or used in between the gaps of the shield formation." He watched the stunned look on his father's face before nodding.
"The Cavalry, is made to be as fast as possible, their Halberds will be slightly shorter, and curved," He looked down at the scrolls, nodding before beginning again, "They will be encased in full Mithril plate armour. The Cavalry will be tasked with charging in and killing as many enemies as they can before retreating within the shield wall. They will also be tasked with getting rid of any return Cavalry and forcing them backwards." He barely contained his smirk as he stared at the stunned glances of everyone at the table.
He breathed quietly, "The Archers will wear Mithril armour, but mail instead of plate, to make them as light of a unit as possible. They will used Crossbows made, yet again from Mithril, and if one is already well versed in it, Longbows," He stopped inching closer to the table, "The Archers will be armed with short swords and a much shorter Halberd to be used if needed." He noticed the exchanging glances, and instantly he knew he had them with his grasp.
"The Scouts of the army will be a unit called the Shock Troops, sometimes referred to as Rangers, they will be tasked with watching the terrain ahead and enacting guerrilla tactics against the enemy, or enemies. One of their main functions will be to destroy the enemy's food supplies and get rid of their supply lines, along with their weapons, basically like raiders," He said, nodding before continuing, "Their Mithril armour will have hooded mail in place of helmets, and as with all of the groups, they will have black armour." He smiled as he saw the looks on their faces.
"Finally, and yet foremost, is the Engineers. They are the ones who build the supply lines, and take care of the Siege equipment, along with anything else required. The Catapults will also be made from Mithril, and so too will the Siege towers. Any Legion will be trained to be able to take on larger armies, defend a fortification, or take one." He nodded to Rowan, who smiled and finished in his place.
Rowan stepped forward and began. "Unlike the Levy troops employed like the Kingdoms, which vary from skilled Men at Arms to simple peasants that don't know how to fight properly, the Legions will be formed entirely by highly trained, disciplined, and professional soldiers. Most Legionaries will dedicate most of their lives to it. I hope this satisfiers you all." Rowan finished, turning and nodding at Thurin with a smile.
"Amazing! This army will be unlike anything Westeros or Essos has ever seen!" Exclaimed Renly.
"These diagrams show that the training these Legions will go through will clearly make them into professional soldiers. I would take well trained units over the best equipped any day, and these Legions will be both well trained and the best equipped solders in the Realm." Stannis said, turning to look at Rowan and Thurin. "How many men will be in a single Legion?"
"About 10,000 men in every Legion." Answered Rowan.
H-how can we b-be so s-sure that they won't d-desert?" Asked the Maester Pycelle.
"As I said before, the Legions will recruit from every kingdom, so as to make them diverse. Each distinct Legion, when going to where they will be stationed, will learn about the land which will be their new homes." Thurin answered, eyes evaluating the supposed 'frail man.'
"B-but…."
"Oh be quiet Grand Maester, I like this idea and agree with my son!" The King said, interrupting Pycelle. "When can we start building the Legions?"
"Unfortunately, Your Grace, it is unfeasible for us to fund these…Legions. Considering the Crowns debts." Remarked Petyr Baelish.
Thurin craned his head to stare at Baelish, he abhorred the man, but he bit back his annoyance. "I wasn't aware the Crown was in debt, Lord Baelish." He lied through his teeth calmly, eyes glinting.
"I'm afraid so. The Crown owes just a little over 5 million in debt to your grandfather, the Iron Bank, and other various groups."
Thurin stared at the man in pretend suspicion and shock. 'Be calm, if I must I will. You know the game….' He barely contained a smirk as he lifted his gaze to see what they were talking about.
"You've managed to get money for us before Baelish. Why can't you do the same now?" Robert asked.
"There is a huge difference between the costs of tourneys and feasts compared to the paying for an army. I'm afraid that it's not possible." Baelish replied.
You are Turin Turambar, master of doom and by doom mastered. Bane of Glaurung, killer of Melkor. Murderer of your friends. Great General, and yet great killer. You are Mormegil!
Thurin blinked, before shaking his head discreetly. "Father! I have a few ideas that might help, but I need some time to contemplate them. Could we perhaps finish this tomorrow?" He interrupted.
"Very well. Tomorrow it is then." Robert said.
"Thank you father." He nodded before leaving the room.
"You said you wanted to see me son?" Asked Robert.
"It has come to my attention that we have a traitor running around," He brought his hand up to calm his father, "I have proof, but I wish for you to allow me to handle it father. And give me full authority. Will you allow this father?" Thurin asked, calmly staring at Robert.
Robert seemed to contemplate him for a moment, before answering. "Very well, I give you full authority on this mission to do whatever you see fit. Don't fail me. My son."
"Thank you father." He said, walking out of the chamber, nodding to the four guardsmen who had been ordered to follow him.
Petyr Baelish walked down the hall, ready to return to his main brothel to gather information.
"Excuse me, my good Lord Baelish." He recognized that voice vaguely. He turned around, coming face to face with Thurin Baratheon.
"Greetings my Prince. Please accept my apologizes, I did not realize you would come by." Petyr Baelish greeted.
"Its fine Lord Baelish, in fact, I was looking for you." Thurin said.
"Is that so? I take it you wish to discuss that matter from earlier?" Baelish asked.
"Indeed Lord Baelish." Thurin replied.
"Please there's no need to be so formal, I'm just a simple lowly council member, call me Littlefinger, everyone else tends to do so." Baelish said.
"I wouldn't dream of it. It is polite to call someone by their title, especially someone like you, who has done so much for the Realm." Thurin swiftly replied.
"You flatter me, Prince Thurin. I am just doing my duty." Baelish responded.
Baelish had to admit, at least to himself, he had been caught off guard when the Prince had sought him out. It was something he would have expected from Varys, but not from a boy who was only on his eighth nameday.
"You guessed correctly Lord Baelish. I would like to talk to you about the Legions. May we discuss it somewhere private?" Thurin continued.
"Of course. I find that private discussion are always the most enjoyable. We can talk in my study here in the castle. Please, follow me."
As Baelish led Thurin to his study, his mind began to plot. He knew that the prince had some sort of plan. He wasn't worried of course, the prince was only eight, how much of a threat could he be? Besides, it was possible that he could turn this meeting to his favour.
After reaching the study, Baelish and Thurin took their seats, and Baelish offered the prince a drink, but Thurin politely refused.
"I have to say that your plan is an interesting one. But, as you are aware, the Crown's treasury is not doing too well. We owe money primarily to Twin Lannister your grandfather, and the Iron Bank. While I could, perhaps borrow more in order to pay for the Legions. I would put the treasury in a far worse situation." Baelish began.
"Actually, it's the treasury I wish to speak about Lord Baelish." Thurin returned.
"Oh? And what exactly do you mean?" Baelish asked.
"After the meeting, I went and looked into the financial reports." Thurin said.
"That's surprising. I didn't think a boy like yourself would be interested in reading such…boring papers." Baelish replied.
"Oh didn't you hear? I love books, when I'm not training my heads most likely stuck in a book. And thus, in my reading of the reports, I found some very….interesting things." Thurin continued.
"And what exactly would that be my Prince?"
"Oh, just details of how much the kingdoms have been making for these years of summer. It seems that everyone but the Crown is making money. I may not be an expert, but I still find it quite odd." Thurin answered.
"Well, as you know, your father likes to host many tourneys and feasts. They have been slowly putting us into…."
"I'm well aware of my father's….hobbies Lord Baelish. But you see, I wondered to myself, how could tourneys and banquets put us into such debt? So I cross referenced the income reports. And not so shockingly, they do not add up. And the royal census backs it up as well." Thurin replied.
"But my Prince, there hasn't been a royal census since….."
Since Aegon the Fifth, yes I know." Thurin interrupted. "But the last census does show how much the Crown and the kingdom as a whole makes during the summer. The kingdoms finances fit, but the Crowns does not. Certainly my father's 'hobbies' might stack up and cost a bit. But not nearly enough to put us into the amount of debt we are in." Thurin's icy, greyish blue eyes met Baelish's like thunder and flames. "So you can imagine that I am wondering where all the money is going."
Baelish's eyes widened but mere heartbeats after Thurin's words. His face paled as he realized just where the prince was getting to with his words.
"You and I both know the answer to that. Especially since all that money has disappeared into your own pockets." Thurin's face went deathly cold, as cold as his icy eyes.
Baelish's mind worked overtime to desperately figure out a way out of this situation.
"My Prince this is quite a serious accusation. Surely….."
"That I don't believe you've been committing treason for years? Sorry, but yes, I do." Thurin answered.
"Maybe we could strike a deal?" Asked Baelish desperately.
"Oh sorry, did I forget to mention what else I found?" Thurin said, handing Baelish a few notes.
Baelish's blood ran cold as he stared at what was written on the notes.
"I have proof of every act of treason. Every act of buying everyone of in this city. I'm terribly sorry, but you've dug your own grave." Thurin said.
Baelish stared up at Thurin in shock. "H-how? You're just a boy!" Baelish shouted.
"That was your mistake, Lord Baelish, or should I call you Littlefinger? After all, the title you held is gone." Thurin smirked.
"But I was winning the game! How could I have…."
Thurin stood, grabbing Baelish and throwing him onto the floor. "Petyr Baelish, I Prince Thurin Baratheon, say your guilty of treason, and sentence you to death."
Baelsih desperately tried to move, but several hidden guards came from nowhere and held him down.
"Ours is the fury." Whispered Thurin, wrath on his face unlike any Baelish had ever seen.
Thurin turned to the fourth guard, and nodded to him. "Unsheathe your blade."
The guard understood, and nodded as unsheathed his blade, and brought it up in the air atop Baelish's head.
"Ours is the fury." The words thundered out from Thurin's mouth like water.
"Listen ere my words. The true winner Littlefinger, is thou who shalt stare into the future….." Thurin whispered.
'Ours is the Fury.' He thought to himself, his eyes turned harsh, he nodded.
The Guard's blade came down.
And Petyr Baelsh was no more, his head rolling to the floor, and his own blood fountained out and soaked the carpets in crimson.
Thurin turned, his blade moving with him as he addressed the guardsmen. "Go, tell my father of what has transpired, give him my proof, and tell him I shall get us a new Master of Coin."
The guards nodded, bolting out of the office.
"Oh, and get someone to clean this floor!" He shouted to their running.
'Ours is the fury.' He breathed, his breath quaking in the air.
"I wish for you to be the new Master of Coin, use the finances I've given you to bring the treasury up to par." Thurin said, talking to a man in a tavern.
"Very well." Said the man.
"Oh, and Tuor." Thurin said.
Tuor stopped, turning to stare at Thurin.
"Be discreet."
"I have managed to find ways to bring the treasury back up to par, Your Grace." Said Tuor, the new Master of Coin.
"Ha ha, excellent, it seems my son is crafty when it comes to finding useful people. I look forward to see these Legions in action. But we must decide where they will be created, and who is to lead them." Robert said.
"I and Rowan talked about it. He says he wishes to be the Second Marshal General, and the current leader of the Legions. He would be best for the job after all. And as for the headquarters, I think we should use the ancient city of Skyfall." Thurin replied.
"Aye, Rowan would be perfect for the job. But that old fortress? It's in ruins my son." Robert said.
"That may be true, but it is in a very good strategic positon. It is just north-west from the crossroads. As for it being ruins? I plan to rebuild the fortress with Mithril." Thurin replied.
Robert finally nodded, realizing his son was right. "Very well."
After the meeting finally came to an end, Robert asked to speak with Thurin.
"Thurin, I am proud of you." He said. "You managed to rid us of a treasonous snake, and you put a lot of effort into this plan, in which you have prevailed."
Thurin smiled, a rare smile, taking his father aback. "Father, may I make a request?"
"Of course, your deeds and devotion to the Realm deserves a reward." Robert answered.
"Would you name me Lord of Skyfall? Please?"
Robert stared at his son in bewilderment, he had not expected such a request. But before he could question, his son continued.
"Much is changing father, the Legions will change even more. Joffrey will be King, but I want to be remembered for something. And building the Royal Army and becoming Lord of Skyfall fits the bill. Long have I felt a burning fire to wander father, I wish to see much of this land, and yet more." Thurin said.
"Are you sure? There's a chance you could become Lord of the Stormlands, Seven Hells even Casterly Rock." Robert asked.
Thurin nodded. "I can be Lord of the Stormlands as well, father."
"Your crazy!" Robert said, letting out a loud, booming laugh. "I like that boy. You are not of age yet, so some would think you should not be a Lord. But they will have to accept it, because I bloody well say so! I name you Lord of Skyfall and I shall allow you to be Renly's heir, use the titles well, my son."
"Well, it supposedly has a nice view of dirt father." Thurin said, causing the both of them to start laughing. "I must take my leave Father. Oh and…..you have got quite a tough task ahead of you."
"Tough? What's so tough about this? I'm the King after all." Robert asked.
"I'm not referring to that, I'm talking about how you will manage to deal with Mother." Thurin grinned as he left the room.
Robert found his mouth fall agape at the thought.
"Fuck….that little shit!"
"Times are changing." Rasped a man, spiral, golden eyes glimmering in the dark.
"It's nigh time for us to begin." Said another.
"When will I be able to unleash my blade upon my foes?" Asked another with fanged teeth.
"The Storm is nigh." Rasped the first man.
And the world shook.
Authors Note.
It's an extra few hundred words longer lol.
I've changed much, it was not Thurin who beheaded Baelish but one of the guards, I realized that a mere boy killing someone without remorse would be suspicious to some, so yeah.
I've Made Thurin Lord of Skyfall and Heir of the Stormlands, nice right?
I changed it so Thurin knew about Baelish all along, he just didn't know if he needed to get rid of him. The Beginning part has been changed also.
I will put it in later, but I'll tell you my readers what Skyfall is, it's an ancient fortress that goes way back to the old days of the First Men, it was revered as a great fortress, and much is hidden within it. Cool right?
Fans of Meteor and Naruto-Obito, I am still writing them, and am getting ever closer to finalising the plot and rewrites. As I said before I've promised not to simply stop writing them, so be patient.
If any wish to be a beta for my story than simply PM me.
Please review!