—In the Red Keep—
Dragging a struggling Sansa by her long auburn hair, Jon Connington and his guards continued to ascend the stairs towards the top of Maegor's Holdfast. Upon reaching the top, Connington threw Sansa to the ground rather roughly, as did his guards with Tyrion, Tommen, Myrcella, Trystane, Pycelle, Ariyana and Trystane. More rumblings continued to follow suit accompanied by explosive eruptions of green flame, destroying more portions of the Red Keep; whether the massive castle's structures would remain standing by the end of the day had yet to be determined. But for Connington… such actions were extreme, but necessary. In his mind, House Baratheon would end here.
His eyes observed the chaos blow: screaming Dothraki galloping outside the gates poured into the streets through the broken wall; Unsullied luring the scattering royal armies into tight corners to be pick them off with their spears or by Drogon's flame. "Do you see, girl? Go on. Take a good hard look," Connington forced Sansa to observe the battle. "Your army has lost. And your friends down there will not survive."
The Wolf Queen could only watch as portions of her fellow Northmen were still putting up a fight despite the significant threat posed by Daenerys's dragon more than others; she looked on as Drogon flies along the wall and destroys another part of the battlement – listening to the sounds of destruction, the rumbling explosions and Drogon's screeching roar before unleashing its fire breath on another part of the outer wall.
"M-my word," Pycelle stammered in disbelief.
"All those innocent people…" Myrcella stared, helpless to do anything but watch the carnage.
Connington felt increasingly confident as he drew a dagger from his sleeves. "There is no escape, child," he referred to the battle. "The upstarts will die… as will your friends and family, little bird. The men of your Stark family don't do well down here."
Sansa glared up at him. You're wrong. Without everything that's happened… Cersei and Littlefinger and the rest, I would have indeed stayed a little bird all my life. "A shame for you, Lord Connington," she reiterated.
"No need to worry. Once our Queen reclaims the Iron Throne by right of birth, she will—"
"That doesn't mean Daenerys Targaryen will be a good Queen. From what we've seen and heard, her actions suggest otherwise – considering you've filled her head with lies and half-truths," she interrupts. "We've had someone else these past seven years; someone better."
That made Connington mad. "Still you cling on to hope so stubbornly. Keep talking like that and we'll see who's soon forgotten." Let me live long enough to see a Targaryen restoration take place on the Iron Throne, and the Usurper's bloodline erased from existence for such a slight and so much more.
Sansa, still defiant and composed despite the circumstances, stood her ground. "I always wanted to be there when my husband executes your Queen. Seems like I won't get the chance."
"No. You won't." Connington said before turning to Lysono. "What word of our associate?"
The spymaster looked somewhat concerned.
"Well?"
"My agents report that… King Euron Greyjoy and Princess Yara have both been slain."
That caught everyone's attention.
They failed? Fucking ironborn. All of them utterly useless! "By whom?" he pressed.
"Daveth Baratheon and the Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister. They're on their way here," Lysono answered. "But that's not all. I've just received word. Robb Stark and a few men led by Ser Lucius Blackmyre have infiltrated the Red Keep. What's more… Prince Rhaegar Targaryen's last surviving child, Prince Aegon, is with them as well."
"What?!" Connington was furious. Not only were his plans steadily falling apart, but the offspring of those who rose against the Mad King, Aerys II Targaryen, in rebellion were quickly encircling on their position. Too far up to see down Maegor's Holdfast, with areas being obliterated by wildfire explosions, he turned to see Sansa giving a mocking smirk. How dare was she to mock him?
"This doesn't sound too good," one of the sellswords motioned.
Another nodded somewhat. "What do we do now?"
"We're all going to die here if we don't do something."
"We could still fight!"
"But how? Even with a dragon on our side, there's still too many of them!"
"Maybe we should surrender?"
A sword whipped through the air to decapitate the murmuring sellsword; each of Lysono's guards and Connington's own stood in disbelief. Sansa and the others were appalled as well when the headless man slumped to the ground. Lyonel and Cassana screamed in terror while Torrhen and Nymerios wailed.
"Anyone else who even thinks of surrender will share his fate," he snarled. "Grab the boy! Bring him to me."
One of the guards, not wanting to be beheaded, quickly converged in an attempt to yank Lyonel away from his mother's grasp. The younger Baratheon child cried out and tried desperately to cling onto his mother's dress; Sansa, feeling her maternal instincts shift into overdrive, was quick to respond.
No. NO!
"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Lyonel wailed.
Sansa slipped one hand out of her bindings and jumped at the guard. "No!" she said loudly. "No, you will not have my son! Let him go!" One hand clamped down around Lyonel and the other sunk deep into the guard's hands, clawing at him and trying to pry his grip off her offspring.
"Nagh! Fuckin' bitch! Let go!" He dropped the boy who quickly scurried away to his twin sister. "OW! She bit me! She bit me! The fucking bitch bit me!" The guard shifted his gaze and yanked Sansa's head back hard and brought the blade up to her windpipe; the stench of his breath was overwhelming. "That's it! NOW YOU'RE DEAD!"
Sansa reached up with both hands and gripped his wrists with all her strength, pulling it away from her throat as she again bit down hard on his hands; sinking her teeth into his hands, the Wolf Queen was putting up a fierce resistance in protecting her offspring. She heard him cursing into her ear. He was physically larger and stronger than her, but Sansa would not let go.
"What kind of knight threatens a defenseless child?! Let alone a mother trying to protect them!" Tyrion yelled.
Tommen, despite being tied, quickly rose to his feet and ran towards them. Before he could reach Sansa, more guards kneed him and threw him to the ground.
"Stupid boy!" they cursed.
"Tommen!" Margaery exclaimed.
Trystane Martell wanted to come to the aid of his brother-in-law, but yet doing so would leave Myrcella and Nymerios vulnerable to the other guards as well. Sansa twisted her head to the side and managed to get a piece of the guard's flesh between her teeth; biting down hard into his palm, the man grunted and cursed as the Wolf Queen ground her teeth together and tore at him, and all of a sudden more guards came over and grabbed her hair to pull Sansa away from him. Wrapping one arm around her throat, the guard held a dagger to her throat.
"That's it! Slit this bitch's throat and be done with—"
"Drop the knife!" yelled a familiar voice.
On que, all in attendance turned to see who it was that called out to them like that—as if they were making demands in a situation like this. But Sansa knew immediately who that voice belonged to; having ascended the steps all the way up to Maegor's Holdfast stood Robb, Jon, Sandor and Lucius along with the two Stark direwolves Grey Wind and Ghost. The beasts snarled and bared their teeth at those who threatened their master's relatives. Seeing the sight of such animals, a few of the guards were trembling slightly.
"*Grrrrrr!*"
"Um, Jacor—is th-that a d-direwolf?"
"*Grrrrrr!*"
"Two?! There's two of them?!"
"M-maybe this wasn't such a good idea!"
Cowards! Connington seethed mentally.
Robb unsheathed his longsword from its scabbard. "Let my sister go and I'll let you live," he warned. His eyes are full of rage. "Release my nephews and niece from their bindings, along with the others."
"So," Connington folded his arms, "you're Lord Eddard Stark's son. I hear your countrymen call you 'the Young Wolf.' Not surprising, really."
Jon held Longclaw tight in his grip.
"And you… Aegon, do you feel no shame or remorse for what you have done? Siding with those that murdered your family instead of your own kin? Robert Baratheon killed your father at the Battle of the Trident! Caved in Rhaegar's breastplate with a swing of his war hammer! Tywin Lannister had his mad dogs butcher both your half-brother and half-sister like cattle! Smashed in the infant Aegon's head—your own namesake—against the wall and stabbed Rhaenys with half a hundred thrusts! Jaime Lannister killed your grandfather despite his vows to protect him! Stabbed King Aerys in the back and slit his throat at the foot of the Iron Throne. They would have killed you too, a newborn babe, had the Usurper learned of your existence."
"Is that all you think when you look at me? My name? My birth?" Jon shook his head. "No. You think our house words are stamped on our bodies and that's automatically who we are? No. If that were the case, I'd be 'Fire and Blood.' Your statement generates conflict, self-doubt. You see, I'm both Jon Snow and Aegon Targaryen. Not because I must be, now, but who I choose to be. Forget house and bloodline, but rather a man's way of life. It's what I learned a long time ago from my uncle Ned Stark, an honorable man I truly believed was my father and someone I greatly respected."
Lucius, having been reminded of the most atrocious war crimes, decided to intervene. "The men who committed those terrible crimes are long gone, Connington," he spoke out. "Robert Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, Gregor Clegane… all of them are dead! They've already paid for their actions, as does Ser Jaime, but the sins of the father do not fall on the shoulders of their sons."
Connington turned to face the Old Bull. "You speak in defense of these sycophants? After all they've done? After everything House Targaryen has DONE for YOU?! You served the dragon kings faithfully for many years, Ser Lucius. It was King Aegon the Fifth himself who elevated you to the Kingsguard as a reward for your valor against Maelys the Monstrous! You fought for them during Robert's Rebellion! Your strategies and knowledge of warfare tactics led us to many victorious, and yet you chose to throw it all away for these traitors?"
"Yes, Connington I served the Targaryens without question for over 40 years. Since then, I have done my duty as a knight of the Kingsguard and I will continue to do so for as long as these old bones will allow it," the Old Bull reminded him. "Yes, I fought for King Aerys when Robert Baratheon, Ned Stark, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully raised their banners in rebellion. Yes, I'm fully aware of what Tywin Lannister did with the Targaryen babes and it was a despicable act! Yes, I fought alongside Prince Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident – as did my friends Ser Barristan Selmy the Bold and Prince Lewyn Martell. Yes, they were good, honorable men. Heroes! Barristan, Lewyn, Jonothor Darry, Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne… all of them. And I miss them all, but all of us knew the horrible truth from the beginning: our enemies did not lie about Aerys."
"Lies! Slander! You spout the same deception as our enemies did back then."
"Keep convincing yourself otherwise, but you know full damn well I speak the truth. 'Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.' At first, we believed Aerys avoided the family madness. But as he grew older and after the defiance at Duskendale, he believed there were conspirators everywhere. And when there were none, he created problems themselves."
"LIES!"
"We endured King Aerys's madness and cruelty for as long as we could because we had hope that his heir Prince Rhaegar would repair the damage his father inflicted on the Seven Kingdoms when he ascended to the throne. Rhaegar was everything a kingdom could expect from a ruler and had the bearings of a man who would have become the greatest sovereign in all of history – a sovereign who never came to be," the Old Bull continued his lecture. "We failed to protect Aerys, Rhaegar and the Targaryen children. But what's done is done. It cannot be undone nor can it be forgotten. The dragon kings have had their 300 years of rule; now we must turn the pages of history and allow the next generation of youngsters to assume the mantle."
"The nonsense you speak," Connington spat. "Oh, how Prince Rhaegar would be rolling in his grave if he heard you say that."
Lucius shook his head. "Wrong again, lad," he countered. "It is YOU Rhaegar would be disappointed in! He would never have stooped so low as to threaten the lives of children. Little children! He never treated prisoners terribly, but rather with honor and humility. He never liked killing; he'd rather sing songs as he played from the silver strings of his harp. I fought for the last dragon that day on the Trident. Unlike you, I bled beside him. Men were more than willing to die for him not because he asked them to, but they did so anyway simply because they believed in him – because they loved him, from the highest of nobles to the lowest of smallfolk. Much like this one," he referred to Daveth. "When I look at Daveth Baratheon, I don't see Robert – but rather it's as if Prince Rhaegar's soul had never left this world, like he was reborn from the ashes."
Despite being held hostage, Sansa listening to Lucius comparing Daveth to Rhaegar set a series of questions running through her mind: what was the Old Bull implying? How and in what way did her husband compare to the man who allegedly abduct her aunt Lyanna Stark? How were they similar? "How many tens of thousands had to die because Rhaegar chose your aunt?" Petyr Baelish once asked her.
"You DARE compare the Usurper's spawn with our gallant Silver Dragon?! Your old age has indeed severely stunted your mind, old man! Bah! Enough of this prattle!" He roughly yanked the boy Lyonel away from one of his guards, startling others around him and causing the Starks to take another step forward.
"MAMA!" he wailed.
"Lyonel!" Sansa struggled. "No! Nngggh! Release my son!"
"Let him go! He's only a child!" Jon exclaimed.
"Put him down now!" Robb demanded.
"Drop him! Put him down!"
"Let him go!"
"ENOUGH!" Connington yelled. "We know how conquerors ensure their throne is secured. Tywin knew this all too well. Any rival claimants could not be allowed to survive. And as you still cannot see, I have the proper leverage here. Now…" he turns to the Stark host, "put down your weapons, Stark, or I will cut this boy's throat from ear to ear and everyone here will die."
Sansa continued to fight against her captors. No, Robb. Jon. Even if you two comply with his demands, Connington will still have us all killed anyway. It's how conquest works. I don't care what happens to me, but… please, by the Old Gods and the New, save my children. Keep them safe. Don't worry about me.
Robb looks at Sansa and then at Jon, who appear to be rather unnerved at how quickly the situation had escalated. Before either could slowly set their swords on the ground, Sandor stepped in.
"Bah! Don't bother," huffed the Hound in a gruff manner. "He'll just kill 'em all anyway whether you fight or surrender."
"Clever dog," Connington acknowledged. But before the griffin could make his move, a knife shot up from behind one of the guards – stabbing him in the back of the neck. The guard made a sick gurgling noise before falling to the ground.
Sensing the distraction, Sansa again bit down on her captor's arm and forced herself free, managing to pry her firstborn son from one of the guards and made a break for it to the others – this allowed Robb, Jon, Sandor and Lucius to stand directly in front of Tyrion, Trystane, Tommen, Myrcella, Ariyana, Pycelle and Nymerios. As they did so, the accompanied unit began to work to untie them from their bindings. Ghost and Grey Wind lunged forth, jaws open and baring their teeth; snapping shut on the closest guards, the Griffin's Roost guards loyal to Connington were able to get in a few stab wounds on Grey Wind and Ghost before backing off.
Looking behind, Connington was taken aback by Arya Stark leaping upwards from her climb and delivered a swift kick to his face; but being older and more experienced, Connington was able to recover relatively quickly as he looked to see his new foe dance through the air and land nimbly on her feet with a low grunt, swinging her sword Needle behind her back with her left hand.
"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed in surprise.
"Arya?" Jon also said with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Protecting my family my own way," Arya replied.
Connington analyzed her stance rather closely. "Ah, yes, the Water Dance," he fixed his nose. "I've seen this before during my exile. And the Faceless Men of Braavos too."
"Then you know by now that you can't win," she stated. "Now that we're all here, you won't be getting out of this alive. Threaten one wolf, the entire pack comes to the rescue."
"Brave, but foolish. Exactly according to plan."
"Plan?"
"You think I led you all here willingly without any sort of backup strategies? I led you here deliberately, knowing your sense of honor would cloud your judgment," Connington smirked. "If you love these people so much, then you can mourn for them."
*KABOOM!*
An explosive eruption of wildfire shot out from beneath one of Maegor Holdfast's floors, ensnaring those who were relatively too near. The Starks including Sandor and Lucius shielded their eyes from the fiery green inferno as it consumed five volunteers and four more; Pycelle, in a panic, attempted to flee the chaos – only to be quickly consumed by another wall of wildfire erupting from one of the cellars.
*KABOOM!*
"Ah-AAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!" the Grand Maester screamed in terror and agony, devoured in green flame. The old man flailed his arms in the air and ran in random directions, screaming to put out the immensity of the wildfire – however, he ran too dangerously close to one of the holes in the comprised walls created by the explosion and falls amidst an avalanche of stone down to the raging wildfire below before disappearing into the conflagration. The screams were suddenly silenced.
"Grand Maester!" Tyrion exclaimed.
"You monster…" Sansa snarled angrily, holding her three children close.
"Mama, make the bad man go away!" her twins pleaded with tears, snot and fear covering their faces.
Once freed from her bindings, one of the remaining volunteers gave Ariyana her longsword along with her family's ancestral blade Dawn. Knowing she had weapons again, she stood side-by-side with Ser Lucius in front of the royal family. "Protect the Queen and her children! Defend them at all cost!" the Sword of the Morning proclaimed.
Sandor is nearly paralyzed with the sight of fire; Arya, meanwhile, was covered in a thin layer of dust and debris from the explosion. Blood from a head wound coats her cheek when multiple stones flew from the explosion's force with one hitting her in the head and has now soaked into her tunic; she gasps and coughs but slowly gets back up – ready to fight.
Having remained almost relatively unharmed, Connington unsheathed his longsword as did Lysono with his dual twin daggers. "Pitiful upstarts," he said with spite. "Your hopes and dreams end here!" they assumed a fighting stance. The rest of his remaining guards were quick to follow suit. "AND YOUR MEANINGLESS EXISTENCE WITH IT!"
Knowing this was going to be their last fight, the Stark and Connington forces charged at each other as more parts of the ceiling of Maegor's Holdfast begins to collapse.
"For House Targaryen!" Connington exclaimed.
"For Westeros!" Jon shouted.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Chapter End
Author's Note: The Stark family has reunited and has now converged to engage Jon Connington and his men in battle; but Connington deals the first blow with his wildfire stunt to even the playing field. Robb, Jon, Arya, Lucius, Ariyana and Sandor are in position to make their last stand… but they're also against the clock. Maegor's Holdfast might be the strongest castle in the Red Keep, but even then, it can only take so much structural damage. How long will the fight last? How will it play out? Stay tuned for more updates!
Also guys, I've made a new poll concerning the epilogue when we eventually get there. If you want to check it out, go ahead. If you have trouble finding it, contact me.
Tohka123: Really, enjoyed the chapter.
randomdude24: Wait little confused who all just died in the wildfire?! I know Pycelle did, but did Tommen, Mrycella, etc, die as well?
—No; just members of the volunteer unit accompanying the Starks
ACE4ace: Wait a minute, so you're saying that Ser Lucius is in his 80s? By my count, if he served as a Kingsguard for the Targaryens for 40 years, then Robert Baratheon for at least 18, Daveth for at least 6, and he'd have to be at least 17 when first appointed (as Jaime was the youngest ever at 16), that's AT LEAST 81 years old. When was the last time you saw a man in his 80s who could do a fraction of what you've had Lucius do?
—Ser Lucius Blackmyre was born in 236 AC and joined the Kingsguard with Ser Barristan Selmy after the War of the Ninepenny Kings (aka Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion) in 259 AC, making him almost 70 by Season 8. Not sure if I mentioned this in the first few chapters when I introduced him, but he's an old man just not THAT old yet.
Bio RL: Thanks for the chapter
C.E.W: Connington has been consumed by vengeance, and it has destroyed the noble man he might've been before, and made into a monster. So driven that he cannot see that he is acted in every way that Rhaegar was against.
Good news is, the family is no longer at knife point of Connington and his men. But the bad news is, the wildfire set has left them trapped. So the first order of business is to find a way to get the family out of there safely.
Here's an idea on how Jon Connington will die, I think during the fighting he will be pinned by the leg by collapsing rubble of the Red Keep. Daveth and Jaime arrive, Daveth approaches Connington with Stormbringer drawn, and Connington looks at him defiantly and pure spite telling him to finish him. Daveth refuses however, seeing how his hate and obsessive vengeance has consumed him and that Daveth is done letting it consume him and decided to put his family first. He also doesn't have to save Connington and leaves him to die of the wildfire, destruction that he caused, Connington will be the architect of his own undoing. He also tells him to give the Mad King House Baratheon's regards, Jaime also tells to give the Mad King his before he leaves as well. Connington may protest like "GET BACK HERE YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS." which of course ignored.
The end of the story is near.
nbj: great chapter on trials and tribulations of the oath keeper, so can you please put up the next chapter to the story now please
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
10868letsgo: How can anyone believe this is justice? No, to me you are just the same as every other bad guy.
—Are you referring to Connington?
ABEBOABDU: Boy leave everything and finish this story quickly
—Patience.