Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful feedback/thoughts about the story.
Notes/Reviews: Things go from bad to good for the Reynes. Tywin Lannister is dead, his host scattered to the wind, as Stannis Baratheon sits the Iron Throne. All is not won however as Tywin doubtless had plans in place for Lann's co-conspirators. Ser Tygett rides with his new allies in the hopes of saving Castamere from another sacking...
Chapter 21: Growing Strong
Arthur awoke in an unfamiliar room, standing at a table with a large number of men staring at him. Looking down, he was wearing armor, ornate and costly, all black and red plate with a helm on the table similar to his own but this one had batlike steel wings on the sides. "Where am I?" He spoke, but the others present seemed to ignore him.
"The time to strike is now, brother." Another man, directly to his right, looked him in the eyes.
"Brother?" Arthur spoke, unable to move from his position despite his best efforts. "What is this madn-"
"Yes." Another of the men spoke with a satisfied grin. "I'll have those terms, it is a long time coming."
"Aye!" More of the gathered lords cried, each bending the knee to Arthur and swearing fealty as the 'brother' to his right whispered something incoherent in his ear.
The room faded to black and suddenly Arthur found himself blinded by the sun, a dead horse to his side, and a blade in his hand as a man armored in all white charged forward to strike him down. Until before he could actually move, bringing up his sword and locking with the white knight. "Valyrian steel." Arthur muttered aloud, noticing that both blades were far from your average metal. "Gentle Mother, font of mercy," A women's voice sang from seemingly nowhere. "Save our sons from war, we pray."
"Ha!" The white knight laughed at him, for a reason that Arthur was oblivious to. The knights strikes came swift, the man was skilled, but Arthur seemed to know every move he'd make as if he'd fought the battle before and won it a hundred times. In what seemed like moments the white knight was dead, his cloak being used to wipe the blood from-
"Beautiful." Was the first word that came to mind when he looked at the blade in his hand, the one that he seemed to still be cutting foes down with despite his mind being elsewhere. The grip was wrapped in dark leather, dragon heads with ruby eyes on each end of the guard and the pommel itself boasting a larger and more detailed head. At the guards center stood an impressive ruby. The fuller was darker than the void with the blade itself a lighter shade, ripples going down it. She was indeed beautiful.
"Stay the swords and stay the arrows," The voice kept singing sadly, echoing in Arthur's head. "Let them know a better day."
A young man fell to his knees a few feet away, his dying eyes making Arthur shed a tear. A hundred arrows darkened the sky, everything vanishing into the darkness. He found himself in a far more unfamiliar room, this time alone in the darkness. Looking around he noted a women, beautiful, slender, with black eyes and a flat chest. In the flickering torchlight she sat on her bedside cradling a babe, her voice braking as she sang. "Gentle Mother, font of mercy. Save my son from war, I pray."
"Hello?" Arthur spoke, stepping cautiously towards the women.
She turned and stared right through him, tears in her eyes. Arthur could not tell if she was looking at him or the shadowy figure that had appeared behind him, but the women was now smiling sadly. He smiled back before waves of fire crashed through the windows with a roar and submerged the room, a feeling of dread washing over him as the flames burnt the women and the figure, sparing only him, alone with the ashes with orbs of crimson staring at him from the shadows. He awoke in a panic, sweating heavily and instinctively reaching for a weapon of any sort. He found only the softness of a feathered bed and a somewhat familiar smell in the air; gone was the fire and shadow.
"Ah," A voice spoke casually, the faint smell of lilac clinging to the air. "You had us worried there for awhile, my lord."
Arthur pushed himself up on the bed, eyes darting to the owner of the voice. "Varys." He confirmed. "I should have known it would be you." He knew almost instantly where he was, without a doubt inside the Red Keep. "Where are we?" He asked, unfamiliar with the room. "What happened with the battle?", "Where are the Lannisters?"
Varys smiled thinly. "The battle was won," He assured with little emotion, still standing vigil at Arthur's bedside. "as Ser Tygett arrived with the Tyrells just in time to hand Stannis victory. As for the Lannisters?" Varys shrugged. "Stannis has yet to sentence them, although his red women is intent on burning them alive..."
"Are we to follow in Aerys footsteps now?" Arthur mocked, noting that his leg felt stiff, but still able enough. It could be worse.
"Your brother has spoken out against it, as have many others." Varys replied, hiding his own thoughts well.
Arthur simply gave a nod, feeling the wound on his leg.
"The leg will heal fully in time."
Varys, so it seemed, had all the answers. Arthur moved to get out of bed.
"You should rest." The spider protested.
"I've rested long enough, I think."
Varys seemed to know better than to think this a battle he could win. He held out a walking cane, seemingly from nowhere.
Arthur took it with a single thought. "Willas is laughing at me, I know it."
In truth he was fairly sure he could walk unaided, but Varys would not let up for a moment. For a man that portrayed a innocent and otherwise helpless showing, the truth was another tale entirely. With this in mind, Arthur used the cane to limit the weight on his leg and moved to the door that the spider was holding open for him. Until-
"Brother!" A dark blur crashed into Arthur's legs, as if to attack him.
"Robb." Arthur smirked, ignoring the pain. "Your crushing my leg."
He went wide-eyed at that, releasing Arthur from his embrace and taking a step back before showering him in apologies.
Arthur waved them off. "It's good to see you, little lion."
"Tygett said you'd be fine." Robb smiled, no longer hanging his head.
"And we mustn't argue with Tygett." Arthur replied with a smirk, messing up his brothers hair. "You up for helping me get to the king?"
Robb gave a nod, still smiling away as he gladly took on his new duty. Not helping in truth as he held onto his brothers free arm, but the boy had been through a lot. "Let him help." Arthur thought. The three made their way the short distance between the rooms Arthur had been given and the great hall where King Stannis would be.
The spider had crawled back to his web as Arthur pushed open the door to the throne room, gaining the immediate attention of every noble in attendance; ranging from Reachmen to Crownlanders and everyone between. "His Lordship," A man announced his arrival. "Arthur Reyne, Lord of Castamere and Savior of the City."
"Savior?" Arthur thought as he walked towards the throne, the crowd whispering, it seemed that Tygett had been busy. Was this his doing or that of Stannis?
He stood at the foot of the Iron Throne, the great monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and twisted metal. Stannis Baratheon looked uncomfortable, the back of the throne being fanged with steel that made leaning back impossible. Aegon I had it made this way deliberately, saying that a king should never sit easy. Arthur put more weight on the cane than was necessary, appearing to be weaker than he was. "Your Grace. I would kneel, but I fear my leg is yet to heal fully."
Stannis learnt forward on the seat. "Lord Reyne. The maester tells me your to make a full recovery, no?"
Arthur bowed his head for a moment, placing his free a hand on Robb's shoulders. "In time, Your Grace."
"Good." Stannis said simply, eyeing the obvious question on the lions face. He did not waste time. "I, Stannis Baratheon, King of the Andals the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name Arthur Reyne as Warden of the West and Lord of Castery Rock."
"Yes," Arthur though with a subtle smirk. "Tygett has been busy."
Stannis was not finished, although Arthur felt it was for show more than anything. "House Lannister, for the crime of treason and other numerous offences to the realm, are stripped of all rank and title. I denounce them, curse them and name them as enemies of the realm." The crowd cheered, long expected Arthur assumed.
"I thank His Grace for the great honor," Arthur spoke above the crowd. They hushed to listen, or at least returned to their whispering and muttering. "yet it was my father that promised the lords a choice in whom would lead them after Tywins fall and I would be amiss to brake my fathers word to them..."
"My Lord." A man Arthur knew to be the eldest son of Lord Banefort stepped out from the crowd.
"Lord Reyne." Another man, this one Lord of Faircastle.
"My Lord." And another stepped forward. The second eldest of Lord Sarsfield.
There were others too, those previously unaligned with the Reynes and too afraid of Tywin to ever consider betraying him, having survived the Battle of the Blackwater and lived to pledged allegiance to King Stannis now that the mighty Tywin was dead. Yarwyck, Yew, Peckledon and Foote to name a handful of the numerous minor lordlings that had been captured in battle and bent the knee afterwards, doubtless, they expected rewards from House Reyne for their supposed and sudden loyalty.
"My Lord." The final man caught his attention more than the others.
"Lord Serrett." Arthur addressed him, a touch surprised. The man simply nodded in reply.
"As you can see," Stannis said from atop his throne. "your lords have chosen. It is done."
Arthur looked at each of them quickly, ambitious perhaps and given little choice in the matter, but they had forsworn the Lannisters. It was a start. "Then I accept this duty, Your Grace." He turned back to the king with a wide smile. "I swear to uphold the Kings peace and be worthy of the honor." The words were empty, but necessary all the same.
The rest of the evening was tiresome at best as Stannis held court to those nobles he had not already rewarded or punished, or both in some cases. Ser Rolland Storm was legitimized and named Lord of Nightsong in light of his fathers death at the hands of Ser Philip Foote, a cousin to the head of House Foote, one of many minor families that had bent the knee and now proclaimed loyalty to House Reyne and King Stannis. Arthur did not trust them. Words were wind, as his own father was a testament to.
Lord Mace Tyrell was granted a seat on the small council as master of ships, his son Loras a position in the Kingsguard. Ser Garlan Tyrell was named the newest Commander of the City Watch, a role Arthur could no longer fulfill as Warden of the West. He did not begrudge his childhood friend the position. Lesser awards consisted of knighthoods, suits of armor and other such gifts from the crown to those that stood out in the fighting. There were few if any rewards for Western lords, something that they did not fail to notice.
"They should consider themselves lucky." Arthur thought as he watched the nobles began to leave the room.
"Are we to get nothing?" Lord Banefort mutter to himself, standing to Arthur's left.
Arthur looked at him and raised a brow. "Have you achieved something of note, my lord?"
"I-" Banefort glared at the newest additions to the Reyne company. "Some of us, at least, have stood by you since your father-"
"My father." Arthur snapped, eyes darting to the old man. "Believed strongly in rewarding those that proved themselves loyal and true. It is something I too believe in my lord, unlike Tywin. I am not however, regardless of what Stannis names me, the Lord of anything until my banner flies over Casterly Rock. Until that day we-"
"We fought and die-"
"I am NOT finished!"
Arthur waited patiently, for any of his new lords to interrupt him again. None did.
"There will be ample opportunity for you to prove yourselves." He looked at every man that stood near him, lords and knights both. "For all of you."
Banefort lowered his head. Arthur did not care for his opinion, the lord of a small castle with no choice but to back him or find himself surrounded and doomed with not an ally to count on. The words were meant for those new to his cause, those of fresh loyalty, eager for assurance that their actions would not be forgotten. With this, in not so subtle a way, Arthur had made it clear that there was opportunity for all to prove themselves. "This war is far from over." He took his leave of the throne room.
Margaery found her betrothed in one of the larger chambers of Maegor's Holdfast, a massive square fortress inside the heart of the Red Keep, a castle-within-a-castle. He'd been easy to find, as the servants directed her towards the room that Arthur it seemed would frequent on occasion that his duties did not keep him elsewhere. The door to the chamber opened with a creek and grabbed the attention of the man inside. He was alone, Margaery noted, standing by a window looking solemn.
He looked much as she remembered. Tall and beautiful, with hauntingly dark violet eyes and fair dirty-golden hair that shun silver in the moonlight.
"Lann Reyne was not a good man." Arthur kept his gaze looking out at the city, the personal banner of Stannis Baratheon flying proudly above the walls across the city. "He was not honorable. He was not kind. He plotted and schemed, consumed by a vengeance he let fester for years. I fear in the end he was little better than what he hated..."
"Arthur..."
"Stannis." Arthur interrupted. "Now there is a good man, perhaps not a kind one by any means, but good all the same."
She had moved to his side. "You respect the king?"
"He does not smile nearly enough." Arthur smirked, deep in thought. "In the Siege of Storm's End, during the rebellion. Did your father tell you about it?"
She nodded. "My fathers greatest achievement, he would have people think. In truth I think he sat and feasted while-"
"-Stannis starved." Arthur finished. "He ate rats and boot leather as I've learnt. Until a lone smuggler took it upon himself to run the Redwyne blockade to smuggle onions into the castle. Stannis had the food shared equally and only ate once everyone else had a bowl, despite his own hunger. Tell me, how many lords would do such a thing?"
"Very few." She admitted, with no attempt to cover the truth with honey.
"As a reward for his service, Stannis knighted the smuggler, but not before taking the first joint from each finger of his left hand as payment for his past crimes."
"Ser Davos," She noted. "the King's hand?"
"A man of undying loyalty, that one." Arthur turned his head to look at her for a moment, as beautiful as he remembered.
"The servants said you came here often." Margaery looked around at the room, large enough for royalty, yet strangely underused by the looks of things.
"Did they tell you anything else?"
"No." She answered simply. "Should they have?"
Arthur hesitated for a moment, as if picking his words carefully. "This room," he turned his back to the window and put his back up against the cold stone wall. "is where Elia Martell breathed her last at the end of the rebellion. And over there," Arthur nodded in the direction of the eastern wall. "is where a mere babe was murdered."
"I-" Margaery paused to think. What did he want from her? It was clear he found the act disgusting, and to be frank, so did she. "It was a dreadful thing," She opted with agreement, both the safe road and the true one. "what happened here. But-" She hesitated, as Arthur stared at her waiting patiently for whatever answer he wanted. He was testing her, Margaery knew, just as she knew how this was not the boy she'd known as a child. "why trouble yourself over things you cant change?"
Arthur kept his face blank. "Reyne, Martell, Stark," he paused for but a moment. "Targaryen. We have all suffered at Lannister hands."
"Tywin Lannister is dead." She opted to comfort him with the fact.
"Tywin is dead." Arthur agreed, a genuine smirk on his lips that died as quickly as it came. "Yet it did not bring back the dead."
"You have avenged them, Arthur." Margaery smiled brightly.
"Not yet." He replied with sigh before pushing himself off the wall, taking the hand his betrothed was offering and walking in silence as they left the room behind. "Not yet." Arthur thought as they walked. He'd missed her, true enough, and thinking on it as he held her hand there was still a part of him that even now wished to run off with her.
Tygett left the capital shortly after the funeral of his father and now rode at the head of a Reyne-Tyrell host beside Garlan Tyrell, twin-commanders of a joint host numbering in the range of around forty thousand, moving along the Gold Road towards the Westerlands to bring the Lannisters to the kings justice; although it would not be the Stag to deliver the blow. The thorns would hold the crimson lions still, as the red lion clawed out it's preys throat, attacking from the East and South in tandem.
Moving along the road at what Tygett named in jest as a reachmens pace, came swords and pikes and spears with shields of bright red and green that shun in the daylight. Behind those were thousands of archers, with longbows and crossbows; less effective at range but requiring less skill and training, easily ending even the most armored of knights if aimed well enough. Lastly was the assortment of heavy cavalry, the true claws of any lords army, none their rival... a matter of heavy debate between the Reachmen and Westermen whom argued often and loudly about various topics, knights and honor being paramount among them.
"Why do they call it the Gold Road?" Came the voice of Edric Dayne, Tygetts cousin, and newest squire.
Tygett looked to his side at the boy, with his pale blond hair and dark blue eyes that appear purple in the right light. The boy had grown more bold since the Battle of the Blackwater; earning a few scars of his own and coming out of the conflict alive when so many others had fallen. The boy had the luck of the gods about him, to go through so much at such a young age. Tygett smiled at his cousin. "The road begins at the Lion Gate of King's Landing, extending west along the Blackwater and," Tygett looked around him as if to make an obvious point. "through the portion of the northern Reach that we current ride through lad. As for the name? Lannisters like gold."
"Hm," Edric thought in silence. "do you think we'll see battle again soon cousin?"
"Payne Hall is not far to the north of the road," Tygett thought openly. "but they cannot field the men to challenge us and would be fools to do anything but hide behind their meager walls and pray we ignore him." And they would ignore them, unless they were foolish enough to ride out. "No. We ride for Deep Den and, most like, a siege."
"House Lydden." Edric blurted out the name of the house.
"Aye," Tygett confirmed. "A white badger on a per pale green and brown field, truly a fearsome sight to behold."
This made Edric smile and in turn made Tygett happy to have given the boy some moment of joy before what would be a bloody campaign. Lord Serrett's shift of allegiance after his capture meant that Silverhill was with them and would be spared from what would've otherwise been the first castle to fall; unless the host from Highgarden got to Crakehall first. Tygett doubted that Lord Lydden would kneel, badger or no, he'd have no choice but to uphold his family honor as protectors of the road; the mans castle sitting pretty in the hilly and mountainous terrain east of Lannisport, with Hornvale to the north and Silverhill to the south. The Goldroad passed between them, right beside Deep Den.
The wedding was to be a small and fairly rushed affair, despite the insistence of Mace Tyrell who seemed to wish a wedding feast fit for a king. On one hand the man seemed to want the best for his daughter, while the other hand slapped you with the knowledge that the man only truly wanted a show of power; he couldn't care less for Arthur's bride, only for his families standing. The Fat Flower was all too easy to read. Arthur knew well that the reach would be far better off in the hands of Willas.
"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The Septon spoke as Arthur draped a red cloak with silver lining around his brides shoulders. "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity." tying together the couples hands with a red ribbon. "Look upon one another and say the words." At this point, Arthur and Margaery turn to face each other and begin to recite their vows in unison.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days."
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."
"Let it be known that Margaery of the House Tyrell and Arthur of the House Reyne, are one heart and flesh, one soul." The septon paused, "Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The hall erupted in cheers and soon husband and wife walked from the Great Sept of Baelor, where Stannis had generously allowed the 'Savior of the City' to be wed much to the peoples merriment. The crowds of smallfolk were gathered outside to greet the newly weds, the savior and the Tyrells, equally responsible for food and provisions returning to the city; ceasing the hard times that had befallen the capitals people. They'd forgotten the wildfire and destruction. The mob was fickle.
"Bed them!" The call came from one of the more drunken lord, a Westerman at a glance. Most like, Arthur thought, drowning his doubts and sorrows.
Margaery stood up before he did, offering a reassuring smile to her husband. Arthur stood up and locked arms with her as the pair walked past the well-wishers and drunkards. It was tradition that the bride be stripped of her garments as she exited, but Arthur had easily persuaded King Stannis that such custom was not necessary. "More than a few men here were disappointed at that." Arthur thought as he walked with his wife towards the chambers provided to them, having left the hall and drunkenness behind.
Arthur later figured how he must have looked standing there mute like a simple minded fool as his wife undressed before their marriage bed. The moonlight crept through the window as she, naked as her nameday, got under the covers of the feather bed. "Husband." Margaery called him over to her with a warm and confident smile.
"Wife." He shook himself from his thoughts, moving in to kiss her before his mind could betray him and say anything stupid.
"Wife," She smirked at the title. "I like that."
"I should hope so." Arthur spoke before being pulled into her embrace, the young lion now truly trapped in the roses thorns. He'd later be beset by thoughts of his first wife and the child they never had. He'd remember Tywins words on the battlefield and the many questions left unanswered. For now though, he didn't care about any of it.