"Your Grace. . . our forces have been driven from the field," Osmund Kettleblack spoke quietly, not wishing to alarm the frightened crowd. "Battering rams are being deployed against four of the gates. We're holding them off for now, but I don't know how long that's going to last. Your cousin Lancel's been killed and the Hound is Gods-Know-Where."
By the Gods, Sansa lowered her head in prayer. She'd done everything she could to keep people's hopes alive, only for it to matter not at all. Knowing what happened to Jeyne, she doubted they would be merciful should the gates be broken.
"And my son?" Cersei questioned, now substantially drunk. Sansa was amazed she could even speak, let alone stand up.
"He's still on the walls, giving speeches and encouraging the men to fight on," Osmund informed. "He went into the field earlier, but. . ."
"Bring him back inside the Red Keep now," Cersei ordered. Sansa prayed for his safety and that his recklessness didn't get him killed.
"My Queen, our men are barely fighting on and only his presence keeps the line solid," Osmund protested. "If we pull him back. . ."
"Now!" Cersei screamed, slamming the wine goblet onto the floor. A frightened gasp echoed through the room. "Bring him back here and raise the drawbridge. No one gets in or out."
"At once, My Queen," Osmund reluctantly went to carry out his orders.
"We've lost. It's over." A few of the women began crying.
"You may not know what happens when a city is sacked, but it appears as if you'll soon find out," Cersei mocked. "Perhaps you'll persuade the men with a sweet song not to rape you bloody. Not that it'll help your dear friend, as I'm sure you've discovered."
"My Queen, perhaps we can still. . ."
"Enough, little dove. If this was a different man, I might be able to persuade him to attend a private audience, away from prying eyes. Men lose all sense when witnessing a naked woman. Most men at least, but not Renly Baratheon. He desires something I lack."
"What is that?" Sansa asked despite herself.
"A cock." Sansa's eyes widened in response. "Does that shock you, little one? There are a few men who prefer them on their partner, abominations all. Best learn to get used to it if you're to survive here."
"My Queen, surely it isn't over yet. King Joffrey can rally the troops, hold the gates."
"If I were born a man, I could have done it myself. When Jaime and I were children, we looked so much alike even our father couldn't tell us apart." Cersei continued to ramble nonsensically, the previously dignified queen now a wreck.
She's given up all hope. Sansa realized. It was pointless to try and speak to her. All eyes were on the queen, women and children clutching each other desperately.
"We'll be fine," Sansa attempted to promise, hoping she could convince herself. "Joffrey's out there on the battlement, slaying many foes. The Gold Cloaks are holding. We're in the safest place in King's Landing."
"Are they breaching the gates?" Someone screamed.
"No, they haven't gotten anywhere near the gates," Sansa lied. The city was in total darkness, depriving her of any possibility to figure out what the truth was.
"Joffrey will beat them back, won't he?" Tommen asked, eyes on his mother.
Seeing the frightened child, Sansa sat next to him and gripped his hands in her own. "Yes, Tommen, he will. He's the bravest man I've ever known." She forced herself to overlook the incident involving Arya and the butcher's boy.
"He was always mean to me, but I don't want him to die," Tommen admitted. "Maybe I should have gone out there."
"No, no, you're where you belong," Sansa promised. Tommen would swiftly die if he was forced to fight. "Can you assist your mother? She needs you to be strong and look after her, okay?"
"What will happen to everyone else? The commoners aren't allowed to be in here."
"Your brother will look after them; so will the Imp. Right now, your mother needs you more." Sansa released his effort, watching him sprint after her. She could not help but feel disgusted at the Queen for doing so little to support her people.
Sansa gestured for others to surround her, holding hands all the while. "We just need to have faith. It'll be over soon. Please, join me in song. . ."
XXXXXXXXXX
"Your Grace, the Queen has ordered you back to the Red Keep immediately," Osmund declared.
Matthew looked around. "I didn't hear any order." He responded. "Anyone hear any order for me to go back?"
"I have gone temporarily deaf, Your Grace," Tyrion quipped.
"I'm not abandoning my men," Matthew declared. "I will not ask them to go anywhere that I do not. My mother will have to understand my decision once all this is over."
Each time Renly's forces approached the gates, more wildfire was sent in their direction. Men and rams alike burned just outside the city walls.
Damn good thing I'm not fleeing, The Gold Cloaks' courage was hanging by a thread. If anything more happened, their only thoughts would be of flight. Part of him was tempted, but knew he'd be condemning the entire city to pillage, rape, and murder.
"Get the cannons off the city walls and move them near the gates," Matthew ordered. "Carefully remove the remaining gunpowder and have them ready to fire should they be breached. We're firing blind right now, and all we're accomplishing is a waste of limited resources."
Matthew knew it would not be a quick deployment, especially in the dark. Only flames from the wildfire gave people any sense of direction.
"Your Grace, perhaps it would be wiser to retreat to the Red Keep," Meryn Trant offered.
"If I do that, the men break, our enemies get inside, and I'll be killed in any case. I'm not going anywhere." Matthew mounted his horse. "Uncle Imp, with me."
"Do you plan on making another attack outside?" Tyrion questioned. "If so, nephew, I fear I'd. . ."
"No, I've got something different in mind." Matthew grabbed a torch and ordered his Kingsguard to carry them as well.
In the distance, Matthew heard fighting breaking out inside the city. He cursed to himself despite knowing how likely it was. People were panicking, losing hope. Should the gates break, it was every man for himself.
He rode from one gate to another, ensuring the remaining defenders were aware of his presence. Matthew kept his eyes up, relieved that the smallfolk posted on the rooftops at least had not fled.
Seeing the King among his men, Matthew hoped it would keep morale up at least enough to avoid a terrified rout. Renly's forces were cut off, and had to either storm the castle or surrender. They couldn't bring any siege equipment across, save for battering rams. I saw no signs of siege ladders, although that doesn't mean they may not have them anyway. Even with them, climbing the city walls would be a fool's errand. No, the battering rams are the only hope they have.
"I'm glad to see you're still willing to fight, Your Grace," Barristan complimented. "So long as you are visible, they will fight on. Shall we do anything about the rioters?"
"Not as long as they don't interfere with our defensive operations." The civilians would have to fend for themselves, at least for now. He called to those on the walls: "Redeploy to the gates; form a line of pikemen behind the cannons! No matter what, we will not let them loose into the city!"
One by one, the cannons were moved to the Mud Gate, the Lion's Gate, the Gate of the Gods, and the King's Gate. It took longer than Matthew would have liked, but they were loaded and ready to rain death on any enemy foolish enough to approach them.
Matthew checked the wooden barriers on the side, making sure they held, and ordering them strengthened when necessary. "So you believe they're going to breach the gates, then?" Tyrion quipped but he knew how worried the dwarf was.
"I intend to prepare for the possibility," Matthew announced. "No plan survives first contact with the enemy. Any word on whether the other gates are being assaulted?" He waved down Jacelyn Bywater, who looked ready to piss himself in terror but was nonetheless encouraging his men.
"No, Your Grace. They're focusing on the four gates for now. As of yet, none have managed to get that far, but I fear it won't be long."
"Make sure to remind your men their wives and children are depending on them. Keep me informed if anything changes."
I never should have tried to change things from canon. In doing so, Matthew had only made matters worse for himself. He kept a confident appearance, but began to fear the worst. That so many were counting on him only added to his dread. Matthew had experience in combat, but of a very different form and he had never commanded thousands of men.
"Your Grace, they've taken a battering ram to the Lion's Gate!" A Gold Cloak informed in panic.
"Hit them with wildfire, show them what it means to defy me," Matthew instructed.
"Your Grace. . . there is no more wildfire on that gate," The man trembled, fearing he would be killed for giving Matthew bad news.
Fuck! Matthew's face hardened, knowing what would now be necessary. "All right, get as many men on the walls as you can spare. Pull them off the gates not being attacked if you have to. Make sure the peasants are ready to give them a proper greeting. Are the cannons ready?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Form a wall of pikes, make sure we have a good choke point. Archers and crossbowmen will be behind the pikes. Those cannons better be ready to fire the instant those gates fall. Mark my words, we will pull through this, and we will make that son of a bitch sorry he ever tried to take this city!"
I wish I was as confident as I'm trying to sound. If the gates were breached, the battle was usually over in the time period Matthew was forced into. His more modern view could just as easily be a detriment as an asset.
XXXXXXXXXX
"The gates are nearly breached!" Loras attempted to inspire his men despite the statement being at best a half-truth. "Your King is counting on you!" None of them knew of Renly's death and he intended to keep it that way.
He found himself incapable of seeing more than a few feet in front of him, but there was no other choice. Joffrey's navy held the bay, preventing retreat. Only by getting into King's Landing would they survive.
Loras refused to consider surrender, not after what happened to the man he loved. Garlan would perhaps encourage him to bend the knee, but he had not seen any sign of his older brother since the sun set. For all he knew, Garlan was dead as well.
Men on the walls crashed to the ground from arrow wounds, dead from the impact even if the arrowheads were not immediately fatal. If Loras hated one thing, it was being helpless. All he could do was wait for an opening and direct the troops to provide as much distraction as they could to protect those at the gates.
"Spread out! Spread out!" Loras ordered. Too dense of a mob would provide nothing more than an easy target for the enemy. Crossbowmen and longbowmen moved as close to the walls as they dared, here and there managing to take out King Landing's defenders.
At least those damn devices are no longer heard. Loras sighed with relief. While effective, they weren't enough on their own to hold back such a massive host. He presumed those who operated them were dead, meaning their victory was soon at hand.
Provided, of course, the gates could be broken down. Loras jumped feeling the wind of a scorpion bolt, knowing that even his armor would be no match for it. Even once they got inside the city, the Reach would have paid a massive cost for it. Loras could not see the exact toll, but listening to dead and dying all around the fields warned the number was unlikely to be a small one.
He fought down the urge to panic and flee, knowing his men needed a strong example to follow. Whispers were already abundant that the King was dead, try and Loras might to keep the news from spreading.
"For Renly's sake, we have to win this battle," Brienne spoke softly, even more afraid than Loras.
"We will and I'm going to personally execute that abomination," Loras vowed. The woman had stayed by his side from the moment Renly died, her tears visible even in the darkness. Two siege ladders were placed against the walls, those who occupied them hoping to climb up without being seen. The moonless sky hindered friend and foe alike.
Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Loras believed he saw the numbers of projectiles flinging toward the fields to be dropping. Certainly there were crossbowmen firing from slits where they could not be easily taken down. We will get in there. We will.
A loud crack inspired a cheer from those close enough to notice, seeing the first sign the Lion's Gate was ready to give way. Loras' head perked up at the sound of the battering ram's pace increasing.
"Reform! Reform!" Loras ordered, sending the other members of the Rainbow Guard out to make sure his orders were given. It was a risk, especially if the gate was not as close to breaking as he believed. No battle, however, could be won without taking chances.
Siege ladders crashed to the ground right after the first men climbed onto the walls, fighting back the Gold Cloaks and mercenaries determined to thwart them. Dragging the injured men away to relative safety, those already on the walls bought time for them to push the ladders back up, allowing them a true opening for the first time.
The opportunity they needed. Loras marched to the formation ready to storm once the gate was battered down. No more wildfire, only rocks that could easily be shielded against.
Archers on the flanks covered their assault, picking off anyone foolish enough to stand by a torch. With each blow, the gate gave more and more. Nothing would stand in the way of his vengeance.
XXXXXXXXXXX
We've got a few minutes, maybe less than that, Matthew worried, seeing the bolts on the gate cracking. Only a few were still above the walls, the rest either fleeing or dead.
Prayers were whispered among the pikemen, many of their bodies shaking. Matthew wasn't sure they would hold if the gates were truly breached. All he could do was trust in their courage and make sure to be seen.
"This isn't exactly the way I would have chosen to die," Tyrion quipped behind Ser Barristan.
"Shut up!" Matthew ordered, not wanting to have his men hear such words. He would have rode along the side of his phalanx if the barriers he built would have permitted it. The cannons would tear through the first ones to break through, killing dozens of enemies, boosting the morale of those wishing to flee.
Unless the cannons failed to go off. Or those responsible for operating them were killed before the fuse could be ignited. Enough, Matthew told himself. The gate was nearly open but he kept his eyes on his men. Matthew was certain that if even one threw down his spear and fled, all his fellows would do the same or so many that a strong defense would be futile.
Reports of enemies who managed to climb the walls reached his ears. It was all but impossible to tell the difference between friend and foe among those who were inside the city. Matthew cursed at the idea, but he could only focus on a single task. Should he leave, even for a moment, he was certain all his plans would fall apart.
"I speak to those who stand before me today, ready to hold back the hordes who wish to destroy this fine city!" Matthew made sure his voice carried to everyone. "To those who stand with me now, those who will fight and bleed by my side, I will, from this day to my last day, consider you all my brothers! This night, the streets will run red with Tyrell blood! Stand firm, no matter what they throw at you!
"I could not be prouder to fight alongside men of such caliber! This time tomorrow, we will feast triumphant in the Red Keep! Are you with me?"
A few hesitant cries were his only response. "I can't hear you! Are you with me?"
"For the King!" More exclaimed, though not as many as Matthew hoped. Regardless, it had done its job.
The Kingsguard moved to surround Matthew, informing him that only seconds remained. All his plans, all his training. . . whether it would be enough to keep him alive, he would soon find out.
Both doors of the gate were flung aside, archers peppering those who carried the battering rams. Arms and legs were punctured, seeing them fall helplessly to the ground.
But those behind them charged forward, trampling over the wounded in their haste to come to grips with the enemy. Loud booms echoed through the streets, Matthew finding his orders to fire the cannons were not necessary. The pair of iron balls tore through armored and unarmored men alike, dozens perishing from a mere two cannonballs. More died from the barrage of rocks and filth thrown from above.
Yet still more attempted to pour into the breach, throwing themselves against the hasty spear wall. With adversaries in full plate, arrows could do little to stop them. Only large rocks slamming into their heads inflicted casualties among the knights.
Mercenaries attempted to flank the wall, only to be hampered by the barricade. Tyrion rushed to the archers, ordering them to concentrate their fire on those trying to cut through the wooden barrier.
Dead Tyrell bannerman soon proved another obstacle for their allies to overcome. Wounded men were given no attention, even killed by their careless comrades stepping on them.
"Hold the line! Hold the line! They are breaking!" Matthew called out, though he could barely see what was going on. Only the clashing sounds informed him that the battle was not yet over.
Spears were hacked and pushed aside by desperate knights trying to break through the wall, Matthew grateful to witness their stupidity. Each enemy falling would provide another obstacle to the remainder. A pair of crossbow bolts struck Matthew's armor, having no more effect than on the previous occasion. Many Gold Cloaks were not so lucky, often having only a breastplate and helmet if they were lucky.
Matthew dismounted, not wanting his horse to be shot down from under him. More Gold Cloaks fell, creating gaps in the line. His eyes watched his men, praying they wouldn't break and flee, dooming the entire city to a sack.
"If we don't stop them here, we're dead," Matthew warned his Kingsguard, keeping his voice quiet. Trying to flee would lead to certain death for everyone, but he knew their flight-or-fight instincts could overcome that.
Knights hacked through the spears, pouring through the small gaps the crossbows created. Matthew prepared himself for battle, intent on buying as much time as he could. His plans would prove sufficient, provided morale didn't shatter.
Gold Cloaks threw down their spears, fleeing for their lives. Matthew screamed at them, demanding they return to their post, but it was useless. "Well, I can't say it's been an honor fighting beside them," Tyrion commented. More Gold Cloaks fled, the line all but broken. Only a handful who retreated managed to get away, being slaughtered by crossbow bolts.
Peasants on the roof fought valiantly, but were running out of heavy objects to hinder the enemy. Yet unlike the gold cloaks below them, they refused to break. Men and women alike on the roofs knew what a sack entailed, many of whom having a personal memory of the one 17 years before.
Matthew bowed in respect to their courage, the peasants' effort the only reason the battle was not yet completely lost. "No matter what, we will not let them through." He declared, knowing what he was asking of his Kingsguard. Not one moved, ready to fight to the end.
A third of the Gold Cloaks, knowing their families would die should the battle be lost, stood their ground alongside the archers. The others emitted panicked screams, tossing aside their weapons and fleeing for their lives.
Barristan, Moore, and Swann bolstered the Gold Cloaks, proving their reputation for swordsmanship was not hyperbole. Barristan cut down two knights in seconds, his sword thrusting through the gaps in their armor.
Meryn Trant and Preston Greenfield flanked Matthew, intercepting the knights intending to kill the King. Tyrion moved to the flanks, bashing the unprepared with his axe. He briefly shared a terrified expression with Matthew, each knowing the battle was likely lost.
"You!" An enraged man screamed so loudly it could be heard even through the melee.
Oh, fuck! Matthew cursed, coming face to face with Loras Tyrell. He raised his hammer, praying one of his bodyguards would be able to assist him. Maybe I can. . . Hopes of a lucky shot were instantly dashed when Loras' sword slammed into him four times in two seconds.
Matthew swung his hammer around at top speed, aiming for the younger knight's head, for it was the only way to bring him down. He moved back, refusing to be a stationery target, but it made no difference. Each of Loras' blows hit their mark, with only his armor allowing him to stay standing.
Only occasionally was he able to dodge or deflect Loras' attacks. Were it not for the fact the legendary fighter was too enraged to think clearly, the clash would have already been over. Matthew charged him, intent on turning it into hand-to-hand combat, where he could face the Knight of the Flowers on more even terms.
He grabbed Loras' arms, attempting to use his greater size to force him to heel, but his opponent broke out of Matthew's grip. With a single strong blow, the hammer was knocked out of his hand, leaving him defenseless. Loras aimed his sword behind Matthew's knee, finding a gap in the armor and cutting. He felt a warm substance covering his leg, but gave no more thought to it. Matthew kept himself moving, knowing he was a corpse if he stayed still.
Half a dozen arrows impacted Loras' armor, failing to penetrate any part of his body. However, the brief window allowed Matthew a chance to get out of his reach, not wanting to be anywhere near a man crazed with rage.
Matthew felt a second impact against his left leg, the force sufficient to send him to the ground. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the end. I'm sorry, Matthew gave a mental apology to the people he failed to protect.
Several seconds passed before he realized he wasn't dead. Matthew opened his eyes, open mouthed at the sight of Loras and Barristan's combat. Both men moved too quickly for Matthew to follow, swords smashing into each other and the armor several times a second.
Fighting still surrounded him, though Matthew could not make out the difference between friend and for. Clashing outside the walls. . . it didn't sound possible, and more likely than not, a hallucination.
Wasting no time, Matthew pushed himself to his feet, searching for a weapon. However unlikely his survival now was, he refused to go down without as much resistance as he could offer.
His left leg strained under his weight, forcing Matthew to rely on his right. Barristan and Loras continued their duel, oblivious to everything else around them. Bloodied and exhausted, Balon Swann moved to support Matthew, attempting to take him off the battlefield.
"You're in no condition to fight, Your Grace," Balon insisted. "We must get you back to the Red Keep!"
Matthew wanted to argue, but his leg was refusing to cooperate with him. "All right, do everything you can to hold the enemy back." He saw no more of Renly's forces rushing the breached gate, which he had anticipated.
Men fell to the ground right and left, some of whom were butchered by their own comrades. Bodies piled up in the streets, making it all but impossible to move through King's Landing, or tell friend from foe. Matthew breathed with gratitude to see his barriers were mostly intact, forcing the enemy into a choke point.
Only a few still fought on. Despite the horrific circumstances, part of Matthew was disappointed he would not be able to see the final results of the legendary clash before him.
Balon supported him in his return to the Red Keep, while Mandon made sure no foes were charging in their direction. Flames erupted outside the city walls, Matthew only just making out a pair of horses.
XXXXXXXXXX
Loras' swings became more sloppy in his desperate efforts to kill Joffrey, to make him suffer just as he had. Numerous blows impacted Barristan's armor, but the older fighter never stayed still long enough for him to pierce the gaps. When the gates were breached, he was certain victory was at hand, yet the enemy's troops held. Barristan jumped back, his sword swinging out and catching Loras' face just deep enough to draw blood.
Seeing Joffrey being evacuated inspired him to fight all the more desperately. Loras could not even guess how the battle was going, not daring to take his eyes off Barristan for a moment.
Barristan inflicted more blows, two of them coming dangerously close to killing him. Loras would have been excited for such a test under other circumstances, but all he wanted in that moment was to avenge his lover.
Loras was forced to retreat, taking several steps to the side, allowing him a moment to regain his bearings. No sooner did he recover than Barristan was already upon him, gripping his sword arm. Loras countered by wrapping his leg around Barristan's, intent on bringing his body to the ground.
"Joffrey is mine!" Loras promised, seeing an advantage. Barristan was a legend, but he was old, whereas the Knight of the Flowers was in his prime.
Loras' eyes widened as he found himself falling to the ground as well, Barristan succeeding in dragging him down with him. Loras cursed, rapidly getting to his feet, only to find a sword pressed against his neck.
"I recommend you yield, Ser Loras," Barristan warned, stony-eyed. "Your forces are broken. It is pointless to continue fighting any longer."
No! No! Loras didn't care if he died, so long as he took Joffrey with him. Seeing a sword tip pressed against his neck, however, made him realize that an a minimum, he could not personally do the deed.
Having no other choice, he moved his hand away from his sword. Were it another fighter, Loras would have been confident he could grab his weapon in time. Not Barristan the Bold.
"Kill me; I will not bend the knee to the likes of Joffrey," Loras demanded. He didn't care how selfish it was; he wanted to be reunited with his love.
"I'm afraid not," Barristan refused. "I am not one to spill unnecessary blood."
For the first time, Loras had enough time to check on the status of his forces. Joffrey's men were in disarray, but those who held were enough to keep them from pouring into the city.
Outside the walls, he could hear the sounds of combat, a sinking feeling in his heart. Tywin Lannister. Loras clenched his fists, having been certain Renly could take the city before he could possibly be an issue.
His will to fight broken, Loras slumped and prepared himself for the consequences of losing. Tyrell ambition cost him Renly, and all he could do was pray it would not cost the life of his siblings as well.
XXXXXXXXXX
Matthew only vaguely registered his armor being removed. Relief came with each piece of plate taken from his body, a cool rag placed on his forehead.
Have we won the fight? He wanted to ask, but was too weak to utter the words. Eyes blinking, he made out at least half a dozen people around him. An older gentleman was saying something to a terrified woman, though it was impossible to make out.
In the corner, someone with red hair was pleading for news. Emily? The hair looked familiar for a moment before Matthew reminded himself where he was. No, it's got to be Sansa.
Exhaustion creeping over him, Matthew half-shut his eyes, struggling to keep them open. Am I going into shock? He knew he didn't have the benefits of modern medicine and even a minor wound could be deadly in Westeros.
Matthew made out a ceiling, seeing the room surrounded by candles, more so than was typical for the time period. His leg couldn't be moved, but he was in little pain.
He wanted to speak, grab their attention, demand to know how the battle was progressing. Yet Matthew's brain demanded rest and his eyes shut.
The next thing he knew, Matthew found himself in a deserted field. His leg was healed, allowing him to walk or even run, should he so choose. He rubbed his temples, wondering what. . . My skin! Matthew turned his arm around, seeing the dark skin that felt almost strange after months in Westeros. I'm in my old body.
"Am I home again?" Matthew dared to hope, checking himself out to see if it was indeed his old body. Green grass littered the landscape far as the eye could see. "Maybe. . . but perhaps I shouldn't make assumptions after everything that's happened."
"Did you forget I existed, bastard?" A voice screamed from behind him. Matthew instinctively reached for his sword, only to find himself armed with a pistol inside. Ready for the worst, he turned around to face his new opponent.
And made eye contact with a livid Joffrey Baratheon.