Ser Andar Royce was slightly disappointed that everything was going to plan. It seemed a little too…easy. How did those men believe Perros's wild tale without questioning it? They didn't even read the forged letter.
A thought crept into Andar's mind. What if this is a trap? What if they already know of our plans and are playing along, only to lure us in? The Runestone knight shuddered. It was a preposterous idea, an honourable knight of the Vale turning his cloak to the dragon pretender's side? Ludicrous. Absolutely absurd! Making a sour expression, Andar shifted uncomfortably in the mismatched set of mail and armour he took from an Essosi sellsword prisoner at Dragonstone. It'd felt quite strange not wearing his usual shiny helm and steel armour engraved with bronze runes into battle. Since he was a young boy of six, every suit of armour he'd worn was etched with little bronze runes like his father's armour.
One day my sons will wear them too. It was quite a pleasant thought. Currently, he had four children: ten year old Yosiah, eight year old Jon, five year old Ellora, and two year old Robar. Yosiah was squire to Ser Morton Waynwood, the heir of Ironoaks, and Jon squire to Ser Jasper Redfort, the heir of Redfort. Both of them had already started entering the squire tourneys and were progressing well, that greatly pleased Andar. Ellora was a happy girl with wisps of light brown hair and sharp slate-grey eyes. Andar adored his only daughter – how could anyone resist her bright smile and cheerful chatter? Robar was still a boy; Andar was confident he too would have an illustrious career as a tourney knight. Three fine sons and a daughter! What more could a man ask for?
A lump formed in Andar's throat. If he was to fall in battle, his ten year old son Yosiah would succeed him as the heir apparent to the Royce seat of Runestone. If – Seven forbid – Father was to die as well, Yosiah would be Lord of Runestone, a responsibility too heavy for a boy.
Andar smiled reflectively to himself as he quietly made his way to King's Gate, with young Lord Steffon Baratheon at his side. His lady wife, Lady Dionne Hunter, would ensure Yosiah and his siblings were protected and well-educated. She was a fierce woman, Lady Dionne. The best huntswoman in all of Longbow Hall.
"This is a mad plan," murmured the Baratheon boy worriedly. "There's no way we can get the battering ram and the horses here without drawing attention. The soldiers stationed at the King's Gate will surely see us before we can even get the battering ram set up."
"Let's hope we can get in without raising the alarm first," said Andar, pausing and looking around. He and Steffon were almost at King's Gate along with a small number of men. Not enough men to approach the gate yet. "Are you certain you're ready to participate in this battle, Steffon? It's nothing like the training grounds," he warned, catching sight of the boy's determined expression. "There'll be a lot of blood – I hope you are not squeamish. I promised your lord father I will keep you safe as my squire. If you insist on fighting, you must follow my instructions."
Steffon nodded solemnly. "I swear by the Seven I will, Ser Andar."
"Good." Andar counted another ten men walking swiftly towards them. Two of them had shields strapped to their backs. It's almost time. "If I tell you to run, you will run. If I tell you to stay near me, you stick to me like a flea on a dog. If I order you to escape and hide, you will escape and hide. Understand?"
"Yes ser." Steffon looked rather unhappy. "Wouldn't running and escaping be seen as cowardly though?"
"Not in the slightest. What do you think will happen if this war ends horribly, and your royal cousins and father die? You are next in line to be king." The Tyrell traitors would probably declare Princess Lyanna queen for her future half-Tyrell sons to succeed her.
Andar's shoulders slumped as he sighed with relief. "Finally." Another ten men carrying an upturned boat hurried towards him, their faces red and sweaty from carrying the upturned boat over their heads. Behind them ran another eight men, sharing the load of the heavy battering ram.
"Sorry ser!" gasped the first soldier. "We couldn't leave the ship until we were absolutely certain the false dragon's men weren't watching!"
Andar nodded. "Let's start." He ran to the King's Gate with the assigned men. To his surprise, there were no guards in sight. Did the false dragon forget to put a garrison of men at King's Gate? There was no time to dwell on it. Andar turned to the men holding the battering ram and nodded.
The men took a few steps back and ran to the huge gate.
Boom.
The men retreated again and ran forward again.
Boom.
Andar waited impatiently. Even with the extra few minutes, it would not take very long before the alarm bells tolled. That was the point of the battering ram in Lord Baratheon and the Onion Knight's plans, but it would be better for the men loyal to false dragon to come in their hundreds after the gate was knocked open – that would lead to a swifter victory.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
BOOM.
The great bronze gate shuddered. Andar drew out his longsword from the old, plain black scabbard that had also belonged to a captured sellsword. The sword, belonged to him, not the sellsword. Tiny silver runes gleamed from the fuller and more bronze runes decorated the black grip of the longsword. Seeing the familiar runes comforted Andar.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM!
With a final whine and shudder, the King's Gate was rammed open. The eight men dropped the battering ram instantly. They had seconds to grab their swords before the false dragon's men ran out.
"Attack!" Andar roared. "Lord Baratheon wants no prisoners!" He charged to the gate and with a loud cry, began to fight his way through King's Gate, knocking down soldiers left and right. He cut through the pitiful stream of soldiers as if he was wading through a field of crops. "Where are the horses?" he shouted. Without the horses, everyone here was as good as dead. Without horses, they wouldn't be able to reach the rest of the host in time. Andar's worst fears were realised when he heard the dreaded city bells finally sing.
"Shit," Andar muttered to himself. He strode out of the King's Gate. All the men who had sided with the false dragon were dead, but more would come very soon. "Where are the horses?" he asked another soldier.
"On the way here ser," the soldier answered. "The horses were frightened and needed a little convincing to leave the ships. I saw some men riding some horses and leading more horses here. It wouldn't take very long ser." He looked around. "All the false dragon's men here are dead?" he questioned dubiously. "There was not many of them were there?"
"The ones that received us are all dead. There'll be more of them coming."
"No prisoners?"
"No prisoners," Andar confirmed, wiping the blood from his longsword with a linen cloth he kept in his pocket (he always replaced it once a week). "Unless he's a nobleman or a knight from a noble House," he added, after a thoughtful pause. "We can keep them for hefty ransoms. I'm certain the king will greatly appreciate the additional gold for the royal treasury. Tell the others. No prisoners unless he is a knight or nobleman."
"Aye ser." The soldier ran off to deliver the message.
"The horses are coming!" Steffon raced up to Andar. His hair was tousled and there was dirt and smears of blood on his armour and face. "I saw them," he said, panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "The horses are coming. Do you want me to bring one to you, Ser Andar?"
Andar nodded. That was a typical duty assigned to a squire. When he was a lad and squiring for his late good-father, he was often instructed to fetch the stallion or old warhorse. "Take one for yourself as well," he advised. "We'll be riding into battle from now on." He kept his longsword at a comfortable fighting stance as he waited for Steffon to fetch the horses. Please do not attack, he thought. Wait even a minute. For the sake of King Orys, please do not attack.
His prayer was miraculously answered.
No soldier attacked until Andar was on a brown destrier galloping down River Row towards the market square. Andar rode past piles of dead bodies and many injured men who were too wounded to move. Lord Baratheon most certainly did not waste any time in eliminating his royal nephew's enemies.
Andar pulled his horse into a halt.
There were too many freshly killed soldiers.
"What is it?" said Steffon, alert. His blue eyes swivelled around before landing on Andar. "What's wrong?"
Andar gestured around. "This is a battlefield," he said shortly. "See the bodies? Too many to be just Reachmen and gold cloaks." He pointed down at the ground that ran with puddles of blood mixed with dirt, bits of grass and water. "That is a sign that many people marched and fought here. King's Landing is filthy, but the streets wouldn't normally be covered in blood and dirt. Horse shit yes; blood of a dozen soldiers no."
"Maybe my father was here…"
Andar frowned. "He would've marched here, but he would've marched to the Red Keep on River Row. He wouldn't linger here unless they started killing those soldiers before the alarm bells were raised."
"Was that likely?"
"Ser Andar!" Andar whipped around when he heard his name. "Yes?" he said tersely as two unrecognisable men rode up to him. One of the men removed his helm. Recognition flooded Andar's face. "Ser Creighton Redfort?" His fellow Vale knight nodded with the tiniest of smiles.
"Our plans have changed," Ser Creighton, the second son of old Horton Redfort, Lord of Redfort, said bluntly. He scratched his short, well-trimmed dark beard. "I found it odd that we did not encounter as many foes as expected so I sent scouts to Lion's Gate. That gate had been rammed open too, Ser Andar. Many corpses, a couple of wounded and no fit guards in sight. I questioned-" He was cut short by loud voices that rose to a clamour.
Andar and Ser Creighton Redfort looked at each other, shrugged and turned to the source of the noise. A host of soldiers wearing ringmail over leather jerkins, with gauntlets and greaves, and steel helms with golden lions on the peaks came up to them, their blood red cloaks swirling around them. Their leader was a big man with broad shoulders, balding hair, a close-cropped yellow beard and green eyes. His great cloak was crimson red like his men, and was clasped together by a matched pair of miniature lions crouching on his shoulders, as if poised to spring. Another lion, wrought in gold with ruby eyes, reclined atop the man's great helm. His armour was heavy steel plate, enamelled in a dark crimson, greaves and his gauntlets inlaid with ornate gold scrollwork. His rondels were golden sunbursts, all his fastenings were gilded and the red steel burnished to such a high sheen it shone like fire in the light of the rising sun.
Who would show up in battle dressed like a tourney knight? Andar wondered, as the finely armoured knight approached him. The man was clearly a Lannister, as proven by the lions on his armour and helm; a wealthy one too. A poor knight could not afford that heavily decorated suit of armour infused with so much gold. Golden lions, golden sunbursts, gold scrollwork…too much gold for Andar's taste. As a Royce of Runestone, Andar personally preferred bronze runes for protection in battle, not golden swirls for the sake of embellishment.
The man in such splendour was recognised first by Steffon Baratheon. "Great Uncle Kevan," the Baratheon boy said respectfully, dipping his head. "It's been ah, quite some time since I last saw you."
"Steffon," the Lannister knight acknowledged, giving him a small smile. Andar spotted the glimmer of vigilance in his green eyes rather than warmth of a great uncle to his great nephew. "I didn't expect to see you here squiring for a…hedge knight of sorts. Why didn't your father send you to me?" His lips tightened. "Am I or any Lannister not good enough to have a Baratheon squire now?"
"I'm not a hedge knight," said Andar, gravely offended. "My lord Lannister, I'm Ser Andar Royce, heir to Runestone. That is Ser Creighton Redfort." He nodded at Ser Creighton, who nodded curtly at Lord Lannister. "I offered to take Steffon as my squire before we left for King's Landing. If I had any idea that you intended to take your great nephew as a squire, I would not have offered. As you did not see us in sellsword armour, you clearly are not aware of the plan."
"Of course not!" snapped the young man next to Lord Lannister with the same green eyes and sandy hair. "We marched here, fought against some Reachmen on the way and rammed down a gate where we killed more traitors. We sent ravens to the River lords, but no one replied."
"We're here in support of King Orys Baratheon," said Lord Lannister stiffly. "In the last war, my family did naught until the war was almost over. I did not want a colourful nickname like Walder Frey for refusing to help the king so I called the banners. This is also proof to the king that we are not traitors. King Orys did not even send us a raven requesting aid."
Lannisters and their pride. How prickly.
"We're honoured you brought men to the king's cause," said Andar politely. "It will greatly help in the battle against the false dragon."
Lord Lannister nodded. "The Lion Gate is ours. I posted a troop of men there." He glanced at King's Gate. "Do you wish for me to station another host of men at the King's Gate? It will give us time to catch up with Lord Baratheon and his men, and with soldiers here, we won't have to worry too much."
"An excellent idea." Having Lannister soldiers at two of the seven gates would give Lord Lannister a powerful position, but he did have much more men present and Lord Kevan Lannister did not seem as ruthless as the previous Lord of Casterly Rock.
Lord Lannister looked at the young man next to him. "Lancel, I'm putting you in charge of the King's Gate garrison."
The young man scowled. "I fight better than half your men! Father! Surely I'm of better use fighting by your side than guarding a gate. Ask Ser Addam – he'll tell you that I'm good with the sword."
The Lord of Casterly Rock looked weary when he said, "Lancel, chasing glory in battle is foolish. You'll get credit for your efforts like any soldier in our host. It is for your safety that I want you here. I trust you enough to command a troop of soldiers – isn't that enough, Son? I already lost Willem today. I don't want to bury another son." He sounded tired.
"Very well," the young man Lancel relented sullenly. He shot Andar a horrible glare. Andar responded with a courteous nod.
"I'm sorry for your loss," spoke Steffon quietly as he, Andar, Ser Creighton, the Lord of Casterly Rock and his men slowly made their way around market square, most of them on their horses. "I haven't seen Willem in many months, but I recall him to be a good man, a fair swordsman. Did he ever wed or father children?"
Lord Lannister shook his head. "I'd hoped he would ask for the Lady Alysanne Lefford's hand. She was our guest at Casterly Rock for a few months."
"Our condolences," murmured Andar.
"Thank you, Ser Andar." Lord Lannister paused. "Do you have any news at all? Any news from Lord Baratheon or the king?"
Andar shook his head. "Last I heard from Lord Baratheon was a minute before we left Dragonstone for King's Landing. If we sent ravens to each other from the ships, it would be suspicious. We knew the plan well – every second man sneaks to King's Gate and with the battering ram, cause a distraction and hopefully open the gate. It will create chaos and give Lord Baratheon and the other soldiers just enough time to kill the false dragon's soldiers present and head towards the Red Keep. Once we have killed the men here, we are to bring Lord Baratheon and the others horses. I've heard naught from the king or the river lords. They should be nearby, should they not? My father Lord Royce, and many other Vale lords were part of the king's party when they left the Vale months ago."
"Why didn't Lord Baratheon bring horses with him inside the gates?"
"We didn't have enough horses from Essos. It'd seemed that the two sellsword companies sailed here expecting the false dragon to supply them with horses and other wartime animals, or perhaps half the horses died on the journey here from Essos. Some of the Dornish and Reachmen are horse breeders – we did not want the risk of them recognising our horses as Westerosi and not Essosi."
"Fair enough." Lord Lannister paused again. "That is similar to the plan that I – and my generals – agreed upon earlier. Once we rammed down Lion Gate, we'd ride to the Red Keep to storm the walls."
"Kill any babes?" asked Ser Creighton scornfully.
Lord Lannister shot the Redfort knight a scathing look. "I don't know you well, Ser Creighton, and you don't know me either. Just because one Lannister ordered the deaths of babes doesn't mean all Lannisters enjoy watching infants murdered by the Mountain That Rides and other killers."
"Now's not the time for arguing," said Andar sharply before Ser Creighton said anything insulting back to Lord Kevan Lannister. "How would it look to our men – and our enemies – if we march towards the Red Keep squabbling over a matter that happened in the past with naught to do with us?"
"History teaches us better than the maesters do," muttered Ser Creighton. "We Remember. Isn't that the Royce words, Ser Andar?"
Andar sighed. "Take your anger out on our foes, Ser Creighton, not our allies." He gave Lord Lannister an apologetic look on behalf of his fellow Vale knight. "It is the stress and desire to rid Westeros of foreign invaders, my lord. From time to time, I also feel angry and say unintentional insults."
"I understand," said Lord Lannister courteously.
Andar pulled his horse into a halt for a second time. "Can you hear that?"
Ser Creighton, Steffon and Lord Lannister stopped in their tracks and listened. There were battle cries and loud shouts coming from the direction of Rhaenys's Hill. It sounded faint, but it must've been loud otherwise the wind wouldn't have carried the yells all the way to Fishmonger's Square. Andar hesitated. There were three huge gates near Rhaenys's Hill: Old Gate, Dragon Gate and Iron Gate. Either one of them could be under attack at the moment. It's impossible…Lord Baratheon cannot possibly have ran all the way to the northern gates in such little time! There are guards everywhere!
"What do we do?" inquired Steffon, looking at Andar expectedly.
The soldiers are probably all occupied near the northern gates, Andar pondered, his eyes fixed on the buildings ahead. If we go and aid our allies, it will destroy the false dragon's garrisons. He'll be completely cut off from his allies. However…what if it isn't Lord Baratheon's men fighting there? What if those men are unaware that we are here and on the same side as them?
"Well?" said Ser Creighton impatiently.
The knight of Runestone took a deep breath. "We persist with the original plan as decided earlier," he said firmly, noting relief in Steffon's blue eyes and consent in Ser Creighton's. "There are many risks in changing the plan – we have no idea what is happening in the northern gates; Lord Baratheon is expecting us to storm the Red Keep's walls; and the men of our host will be thoroughly confused. Even if the soldiers fighting in the northern gates are King Orys's allies, we'll continue following our original plan." He raised his sword and pointed it at the shadows of the massive curtain walls and rising towers. "To the Red Keep!"
Congratulations amata0221! You guessed correctly! What prompt do you want me to write for you and what is the pairing? You can mention it in the 'Reviews' section or you can PM me. I'm excited to write the prompt for you!
