A beautiful melody from a harp sang its mournful tune. "I'm ready ser." He said. The blade facing him was as pale as milk. It was Dawn, the weapon of Ser Arthur Dayne, but he knew the man as Arthur his friend. Every slash, overhand, and parry carefully timed with perfect precision. The fight was like art. Sweat rang down his brow as they continued the dance across the courtyard. In a whirlwind of blows, time ceased, and he smiled as Dawn shattered his sword and Arthur kicked him to the ground.
"I think I've won once more old friend." Ser Arthur said before offering his hand.
He chuckled. "Dawn gives you an edge."
"That's quite true. Otherwise, I dare say you and I would be here all night."
The music stopped and the tall boy prince walked to them, his violet eyes sad. "My prince." He dipped his head. "You stopped playing the harp?"
"The song was at an end."
"You seem troubled." Ser Arthur frowned. "Do you require the services of two knights of the Kingsguard? We are at your service as always, my prince."
Prince Rhaegar sighed. "No, I was just admiring from a distance. It was a beautiful fight." His tone filled with melancholy. "I'm afraid we shall never know the likes of you again." His eyes looked at them like they were dead men walking.
They were both silent, uncertain how to respond.
"It's okay, sers, we all have our roles we must play." Prince Rhaegar said. "Lets go play ours."
Ser Barristan awoke underneath the white sheets and sighed as he experienced the familiar aches and pain of old age. He splashed some water on his face to drive away the memories. It boded ill that he dreamed of that conversation again. Had his memory become addled? Did he imagine that knowing look in Prince Rhaegars eyes? It's true. The Kingsguard was a far cry from what it had been. Men like Arthur, Hightower, Whent, Lewyn no longer wore the white cloak. Instead, it was the likes of Boros Blount, and Preston Greenfield. Of the Seven, only Ser Arys was truly worthy of the white cloak, but his skill while great was not up to the levels of his predecessors.
And I'm the Lord Commander. Barristan thought dryly. The Commander of disgraced knights, cutthroats, and sycophants
Ser Arys and the Kingslayer were with his grace. Ser Mandon with the Hand per the kings wish. The others should be asleep in the White Tower, but they were off soiling the cloaks they wore in the brothels. When he had brought such to the attention of a sober King Robert, he told him. "Barristan, an oath doesn't change the needs of a man. So what? They fuck whores. As long as they don't acknowledge children, all is well." In a few hours, they would relieve the night shift from their posts. Shifts changed, but it was always the same formation. Two men of the Kingsguard with his grace at all times. One with the hand, and the other three trained and slept.
Arriving at the training yard fully armored in the white plate of the Kingsguard. He stood as one of the kings squires assigned to him placed the white cloak around him and left with a bow. He stood stalwart as the sun slowly crept up above him as he awaited for the two errant knights to come stumbling through the gate. Another hour he waited, growing more irate with a permeant scowl etched on his face the soiled knights strolled in smiling and laughing.
"Your late." Barristan said with disdain.
"I apologize Lord Commander. We lost track of time." Ser Preston said.
Ser Boros stifled a laugh.
"We shall attend to our posts." Ser Preston promised.
He shook his head. "I think we shall cross swords sers. A friendly fight, of course." The color drained from their faces as his lips twirled up ever slightly.
"King Robert requires our duty."
"It won't take long."
"Both of us?" Ser Boros laughed. "Fool be you Lord Commander."
Ser Boros was the first to be knocked to the ground, and in the next motion, sent Ser Preston's blade flying. "Yield." They both acknowledged, and looked to leave as if finished, but the lesson had yet to be learned.
"Again." He said with little pity.
"But the king-"
"Again."
Again and again he smashed and battered his so-called brothers. They sweated like pigs before him as they lunged with the grace of squires. It was not a great trial of skill. Over and over, he defeated them. Once he maneuvered them to clash into the other and they rang like bells. He permitted them to recover before he continued this brief lesson. Blades locked. When he smashed the pommel against Ser Boros jaw, a tooth went flying and he crumbled with a pathetic whimper. Ser Preston dropped his sword and fell to his knees, his chest heaving up and down. "I yield." Blood flowed when he took a shallow cut from his cheek as recompense.
"May, you both remember the oaths you swore every time you look in the mirror." Barristan said. "Your shame shall follow you, old I may be, but I can still cut through the two of you with ease. Next time, arrive when I say to arrive or it won't be just a tooth and shallow cut you suffer."
They moaned out a response as he turned away, leaving his sworn brothers struggling to rise. A single droplet of sweat finally formed on his brow.
He sighed. How pathetic we've become.
Ser Jamie gave him a lazy smile when he bended the corner in the Kings Tower. "Finally, a changing of the guard." He yawned. "I'm half asleep here."
"Where is Ser Preston?" Ser Arys asked.
"Nothing escapes you, Arys." Ser Jamie japed.
Barristan felt a pang of disgust and disappointment in Jaime Lannister. He held such promise as a knight, but the boy grew into the kingslayer. A vain oath breaker that soiled his cloak he wore. Where did that eager boy go? The one Ser Arthur spoke of in glowing terms.
Not in front of me. He thought.
Ser Arys reddened.
"Both of you are dismissed." He commanded and took up his position as Ser Arys protested. "I can protect his grace myself ser. Sleep, you've well earned it."
"WINE LANCEL! WINE DAMN IT! POUR IT YOU HALF-WIT! GODS CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT!?" Something shattered against the wall and the boy made a hasty retreat out of the room as King Robert boomed with laughter.
"GET IN HERE BARRY! YOUR KING COMMANDS IT!"
He sighed heavily as he peeped his head through the doorway. "Your grace I'm on duty."
King Robert scoffed and snorted. "Fuck that. I need a drinking partner. Thoros is elsewhere." His grin expanded. "And I want to hear about this duel in the courtyard! Is it true did you fight with Ser Preston and Ser Boros?"
The look on his face said he had small choice in the manner and entered the solar. "A friendly match, your grace."
"YOU KNOCKED HIS TOOTH OUT!"
Barristan nodded. "That happened, your grace." As a glass of wine was foisted into his hand. "Your grace-"
"One glass." King Robert commanded and rolled his eyes. "Gods, you're worse than Ned. How he sired such a large family is beyond me, nether less that bastard of his. " The king stretched and chugged the wine in a single movement before burping and wiping the spilled wine from his beard with his long sleeves. "You know my wife won't be happy you disciplined Ser Preston."
"I'm the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." He said curtly.
"Aye, I'm sure it was HILARIOUS." His voice raised into a booming laugh before his eyes became dead inside. "Bastards, probably deserved it." He mumbled. "Sit. Please." And he did as bid, even sipping on the sweet wine while His Grace drank like a sailor on leave.
King Robert started talking about the Vale, the Rebellion, and Lyanna Stark as he became drunker and drunker. His face was red as a tomato and his eyes were dead despite the enormous smile on his face. Rhaegar would have worn the Crown better. He thought with growing sadness at his failure on the Trident or the Tourney of Harrenhal. Why couldn't I win that tourney? How many would have lived?
"DAMN IT!" His king slammed his fist against the desk. "DAMN IT TO THE SEVEN HELLS! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT WHAT THIS CROWN HAS DONE TO ME?!"
He held his tongue and kept his silence as the king's mood worsened.
"I was never meant to be king. I'm good at fucking and killing, not ruling. Ned was made for this." Something flashed in his eyes as he rubbed his beard and said again. "Ned was made for this." He started laughing madly and stumbled for ink and parchment. "I'll just have to make Ned King! Then I can go back to the good things in life like fucking and killing!"
Barristan coughed in disbelief. "Your grace, you have a son. The line of succession."
"I'll do the fuck what I want." His grace slurred. "I'll make Ned my heir, and then I'll abdicate. Ha! King Eddard Stark The First of His Name. The honorable lord of Winterfell."
His mind raced. How far would this drunken haze go? No doubt King Robert was just boasting, but he banished that thought as His Grace penned the letter. "My king, Lord Stark, is an honorable man. It's true, but he has no claim to the Iron Throne."
"I'll make him king, and I'll smash anyone who disagrees with me with a war hammer." King Robert declared, making a fist. "Gods, I'll be strong again!"
"Mayhaps," He agreed. "And if it is your wish I'll follow it, but I doubt Lord Stark or Lord Arryn would agree."
The fight left Robert, as his shoulder slouched and he slumped into his chair like a petulant child, the words hitting the mark. Only with a heavy sigh did his Grace rise and made his way to the door. "Follow." He said, and as his Kingsguard, he obeyed.
They arrived at the usual establishment filled to the celling with whores and men of ill repute using them. Rhaegar never visited a brothel. But Robert was king, and he had sworn an oath to him and his family. He felt little pride in serving a drunkard. At least he doesn't burn men alive. He told himself. Little happened while he stood guard, save the grunts and moans coming behind him. Suddenly, his nostrils burned. He smelled smoke and where there was smoke, one normally saw fire. The window at the end of the hall offered some clues and he heard the screams and pandemonium breakout across the street. Baelors Orphanage across the street was on fire, smoke rising thickly and every instinct as a knight told him to run to the screams. To protect the weak and the innocent, but he had sworn an oath to protect the king.
The screams increased in volume even his grace noticed." BARRY! WHAT'S GOING ON OUT THERE?!"
He peered his head through the doorway. "Baelors Orphanage is aflame, your grace." His eyes wandered briefly.
"Well, that's shit. Go on, save them. Be a hero Barry old boy."
"My king?" Barristan said, aghast. "You would be unprotected; I swore an oath."
King Robert laughed. "Unprotected? Ha, I got these!" He made two fists. "And Evelyns tits are bigger than Bessies. Could stop an arrow. Your whoremonger, drunkard of a king, will be fine while you go save some orphans." And for the first time in years, Barristan could feel pride in wearing the white cloak.
"As you command my king." Barristan said, smiling.
When he returned with a cloak of ash and soot feeling a rare sense of pride; his grace was underneath the sheets with some woman, but his eyes widened and he drew his sword at the corpse and the pool of blood that had formed. "Your grace!" He called out. I never should have left.
King Robert groaned, removing the sheets. "Barristan, what are you yammering about." Before smacking his hand against his forehead. "Ah, the corpse. Gods, you missed it!"
"Explain my king." He surveyed the room, looking for threats.
"Shortly after you left, I had to piss like a warhorse. Man, I pissed the wine away and I return to this weakling threatening Evelyn with that little knife of his." His grace mocked, waving his hands. "What craven needs a dagger against a woman?" He grinned and lifted his hand into a fist. "So I used this Barry. One swing to his head and he crumbled like parchment and his skull cracked like an egg against the wall. I'm still strong! It felt good hitting something!"
Why was he threatening a mere whore? Men got jealous or mayhaps some other vice? Or was this some conspiracy of sorts and the king was the target? "Is this true milady?" He asked, and the whore merely smiled sweetly.
"She doesn't speak Common Tounge." King Robert told him.
The whore giggled and kissed his grace.
He frowned, still unconvinced, but he was content that no threats resided in the room and surely no fool would only send a man with a little knife to kill King Robert.
"But she sure gave me some appreciation!" His grace winked. "I haven't felt this alive in years. A good kill, and a good bedding. A good day Barry! Ha!"
Ser Barristan nodded, satisfied and relaxed. "When you wish to return to the Red Keep, inform me my king."
He bowed.
However, King Robert's eyes widened." Wait." Over the whores giggling. "Did you save the orphans?"
"Yes, my king I did." He whispered.
And for the first time since Rhaegar, he actually felt like a true knight worthy of his cloak.
Authors notes: Next up Bobby B is sober and Kings Landing trembles
Johannes293: Glad, you enjoy them. Cersei isn't exactly good with her plots is she? And Bobby B is one of my favorite characters Mark Addy really did a good job with him. I really like writing these chapters they are just really easy. Just come up with a funny ridiculous plot and go for it. You don't really have to do any overarching plots. I got a Robert SI on the backburner yet to be posted. No idea if it ever will be. (First three chapters done) and its more complicated. If one character does something, than another would react another way. This is far more simple.
Guest: Oh yeah no way Cersei told Tywin that she would be too embarrassed. Tywin would go full Reynes on them thats for certain. Honestly, I'd imagine Cersei helped rise up Roberts debt too. She put all these schemes on good old Tywins credit card.
Normen Rider: Glad you enjoy it!