"You don't have to come with us." Orys picked up his polished great helm. "It'll be better if you stay here."

Cousin Hoster scowled sullenly. "Why? Is it because I'm weak and useless?"

Orys frowned at him. For the last three days, his Tully cousin moped about the castle like a wandering ghost, hatred in his blue eyes. Hoster hardly spoke; when he did, his tone was always bitter and morose. Orys pitied him, but now was not the time to brood. "You are not weak and useless," said Orys, grinding his teeth to stay patient. "I told you that a number of times."

"Then let me come with you Your Grace!" Hoster leapt up from his chair. "I am not an invalid!"

Orys sighed. By the Seven his cousin could be obstinate as a bloody ox! "I want you to stay here as my castellan," he said calmly. "You are clever, Hoster. You are good at remembering numbers and ensuring policies are maintained. I want you here to root out the traitors and keep peace in the Crownlands. There'll be others here to help as well. Think of it as practice for ruling Riverrun."

"I'm not a Rykker. I have no Rykker blood and I'm not married to a Rykker. It's not right for me to rule the Dun Fort."

"The Rykkers are traitors. They sided with the false Targaryen. I've appointed you castellan and you have every right to rule the Rykker lands and install peace until I say otherwise." Orys smiled as Hoster nodded slowly. "It is even within my right to give the Dun Fort to another more loyal House. From the moment House Rykker sided with the Essosi pretender, he lost his right to the Dun Fort and the Rykker lands. Lord Rykker cannot complain – he's on his way to Casterly Rock. If he even thinks of rebelling again, his heir will lose his life."

"Very well," Hoster relented. "When do you plan to leave?"

"Once everything here is in order. I plan to ride to Rosby where the other half of our troops are and then we will march to King's Landing." He pointed at a map of King's Landing on the solar table that Lord Rykker had helpfully left behind. "It is in our interest to attack the Old Gate, the Dragon Gate and the Iron Gate." Orys placed lumps of carved wood on the labelled gates on the map.

"You have plenty of prisoners," his cousin pointed out. "Some of them are very valuable. Why not negotiate a trade with the false dragon? Lord Velaryon will be eager to have his only son and heir back and Ser Jon Fossoway, the Knight of New Barrel is the Queen of Thorns's own good-son. If we offer the false dragon a trade, we might get your mother and wife."

Orys shook his head. "That is a good plan, but I have no desire to wait. We are in a strong position at the moment – it is better for us to take advantage of it now. The false dragon lost his first battle. His grasp on the throne isn't secure which is good news for us."

"Do you think they will kill the queen mother?"

"If they value their lives, they would not dare harm her." Orys's eyes darkened. "If she dies or my wife loses our babe, I will not rest until every Tyrell and every Martell are dead. No mercy." He clenched the wooden marker so tightly that the blunted edges dug into the palm of his hand. The thought of his poor mother and pregnant wife in the false dragon's custody angered him.

"Your Grace!" One of the guards at the door called. "Jared Buckwell wishes to speak to you. Do you wish to see him?"

"Yes!" Orys called back. He watched the door open and Jared enter. Jared was holding a piece of paper.

"Your Grace," said Jared with a bow. "My lord of Tully." He dipped his head at Hoster. He handed the piece of paper to Orys. "News from Riverrun."

"Thank you Jared." Orys opened the letter at once. As the maester had served the Rykkers for decades, Orys did not trust him. He had appointed Jared to be in charge of receiving and sending ravens. After a quick scan, Orys looked up at his Tully cousin. "It's from your lady mother," he informed him.

Hoster's expression contorted into a look of astonishment. "My mother? What in the Seven did she write?" Revelation morphed into dismay. "Is Riverrun under attack? Had some of my father's vassals rebelled?"

Orys shook his head. "Naught of that kind. A few days ago, Lady Tully received a raven from Dragonstone. It was written in code. Lady Tully sent it here. Was it sent by raven or a rider?" he asked Jared.

"Rider," said Jared promptly. "I sent the rider into the Great Hall for food and a flagon of ale. The poor fellow is exhausted."

"It's a message from my uncle Lord Stannis," explained Orys, straightening the paper and showing it to Jared and Hoster. He smiled, relieved that his Baratheon uncle was still alive and hopefully well. "You both know how distrustful that Lord Stannis can be. When I was a young boy, he taught me this code that he'd learned from old Maester Cressen." He suddenly chuckled. "Forgive me for my moment of sentiment – I unexpectedly recalled the time when I asked my uncle Stannis if I'd be able to send him secret messages for fun. I was a boy of eight. Lord Stannis, he gave me a stern look and said, 'codes are not for trivial matters in times of peace. It is to be used during times of war.'"

"It looks like nonsense to me," said Jared Buckwell doubtfully.

Orys looked at the coded message again.

"Drag ons' tone" I s'se cure inyo, urn ame. Va lean-d stor m'men w. I'll at-tack. (Frombla) ckwate r/Rus h.

What did Uncle Stannis say to decode the message? Ignore everything except the letters. Yes, that was it.

Dragonstoneissecureinyournamevaleandstormmenwillattackfromblackwaterrush. A whole string of letters.

Orys studied the letters and carefully circled the words he recognised straight away before decoding the rest of the sentence.

Dragonstone is secure in your name vale and storm men will attack from black water rush.

"Did you decode it?" asked Cousin Hoster.

"Dragonstone is secure in your name," Orys read out loud little by little. "Vale and storm men will attack from Blackwater Rush." He folded the letter. His heart jumped with hope. Dragonstone was in Baratheon hands again – how long did it take Uncle Stannis to recapture Dragonstone? When did the Vale fleet disembark on Dragonstone? When did the Stormlands-Vale troops leave for King's Landing? Were they still sailing there or have they already started the siege?

"That's quite the victory," said Jared, grinning from ear to ear. "I must offer my congratulations Your Grace! With Dragonstone in Baratheon control now, it will not be long before King's Landing falls to you."

"The Stormlands-Vale host must be on their way to King's Landing," said Orys thoughtfully. "We must march immediately. I cannot allow my uncle to fight in a battle in my name without support." He stood up. "I won't sit here waiting for my uncle to win me a victory." He rummaged through a stack of letters on the table. He pulled one out. "This message is from Lord Lannister." He handed it to Hoster for him and Jared to read. "He left his cousin Ser Stafford as Castellan of Casterly Rock whilst he and his bannermen are marching to King's Landing. They will be attacking from Lion Gate. Do you think my uncle is aware of this?"

"You should speak to Lord Royce and the Blackfish about it," advised Cousin Hoster. "They are more experienced than all of us."

Orys nodded. "I will. I will speak to them at once."


It was late afternoon when Orys left Duskendale in the middle of a large army consisting of valemen, rivermen, northmen, men from the Crownlands and a few prisoners valuable enough for potential trade. Orys would've ridden at the front of the army, but more than five prominent lords insisted for him to ride where it was relatively safe – in the middle of the army.

"You are our king," said Lord Mallister gravely. "You must be protected. We've lost many kings in battles in the past. King Robert wouldn't want his son to die in battle fighting for his rightful place on the Iron Throne." The other lords present had nodded in agreement and Orys found himself riding between Robb Stark and Ser Arthur Estermont.

"Do you feel like a knight in shining armour, Your Grace?" Ser Arthur asked, an hour after they departed Duskendale.

Orys arched an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"You are riding into battle on a white horse to rescue your lady wife. I'm sure the queen will be thrilled, if not relieved."

"I…" Orys was at a loss for words. "I desire Lyarra safe. Now is not the time to be imagining myself as a knight and Lyarra as a damsel in distress."

"Lyarra's strong," said Robb confidently. "She is a wolf of Winterfell – she will not give in to the false dragon's demands without a fight. A fight with words that is. Lyarra doesn't know how to fight with a sword like Arya does."

"I wish I know her better," Orys confessed. "I care for her, but I don't really…" He hesitated. "I don't really know how to make our marriage happy and loving – like your parents' marriage. My father preferred the company of prostitutes and his secret stash of wine to my mother; my mother was very patient with him and held their marriage together for the sake of my siblings and I. By the time Father died, my mother hardly spoke to him. They had nothing to say to each other. No compliments, no interests. I don't want that."

"Spend time with her."

"I do every day. Every morning I break my fast with Lyarra and then walk with her in the gardens. After the council meeting, we would go to the library or plan a design for the nursery."

"That seems…" Robb seemed to be choosing his words with great care. "Dull. A little tedious. Your Grace," he added hastily when Orys frowned at him. "It seems that your time with my sister is all planned on a schedule. Have you thought that perhaps it would be nice to surprise her? Take her to a surprise luncheon in the gardens or somewhere beautiful with only the two of you. Sing with her, or play the harp or some other musical instrument. Lyarra likes singing and she's fond of the harp. She will appreciate it."

"That sounds like courting," said Orys uncomfortably. "I didn't realise that it is still required in a marriage. Does your father take your mother on an unexpected picnic from time to time?"

"No," Robb admitted. "They do like to spend time together in front of the fire, or a long walk before supper."

"What do you do with your lady wife?"

Robb bowed his head for a second. "My wife is dead," he said finally. "She died giving birth to our twin daughters. I was on the way home from a skirmish. She'd died before I returned to Winterfell. She died hiding in the crypts. I did not know you were unaware of it."

"My condolences, Robb. What are your daughters' names?"

"Lysara and Alysanne. Both of them are beautiful. Jon thought Daenerys chose the name 'Lysara' in honour of Lyarra."

Orys smiled. "I hope I will see them one day. If Lyarra births a girl, maybe they will become good friends. They will be close in age after all. Once peace returns to Westeros, we will come to Winterfell often."

"Your Grace." Radford Rykker rode back to Orys. Radford had been designated as one of the scouts. "There's a small host of men near the Iron Gate. They're men from the Crownlands I think. None of the sigils seem to belong to noble Houses of the Reach or Dorne. What do you want us to do, Your Grace? Should we negotiate their surrender or engage in battle?"

"Negotiate," answered Orys. "Tell them if they disband and return to their own homes in half an hour, they will retain their lands. They can join us if they wish to fight. If they refuse to yield, we will slay them in battle."

Radford nodded. "Yes, Your Grace." He directed his horse away from Orys and galloped off, two soldiers behind him.

"Let us hope they surrender," murmured Orys. He couldn't afford to delay on a petty negotiation hour with disgruntled Crownlands knights who might not even wish to fight in the name of the false Targaryen. He swiftly broke away from his good-brother and Ser Arthur and galloped to the second line where Lords Royce and Tully marched.

"Do you think they will surrender?" Orys asked the two lords.

"No one will support a false Targaryen king," said Lord Tully confidently. "Just you wait, Your Grace. They will yield to you. You're the rightful king after all. The true King of Westeros."

Orys smiled uneasily at his uncle. The plan was to march straight to the three huge gates without engaging in any sort of warfare from an ambush to a battle in the night. Thankfully, Lord Tully's prediction came true. After waiting on the side of Rosby Road for only a little time, Radford rode back with a massive grin on his face. Riding with him was an old man with grey hair garbed in black armour with black breastplates ornamented with four golden disks and a heavy woollen cloak dyed in gold. The old man looked tired, yet he managed a smile when he caught a glimpse of Orys on his horse.

"Your Grace," the old man croaked, dipping his head politely. "My garrison at Iron Gate is yours. We are all stag supporters, Your Grace. I was part of your late grandfather Lord Steffon Baratheon's household in my youth and I followed your late father King Robert to King's Landing. My illegitimate son Humfrey Waters, is the Captain of the Dragon Gate. If you send men to the Dragon Gate, he'll be more than happy to open the gates."

"This can be a trap," Lord Mallister muttered softly, eyeing the old man.

"I am glad to meet a man loyal to my grandfather and father," said Orys, giving a discreet nod to Lord Mallister. "Your men must trust you as their captain. Were you ordered to take your men out here to guard the Iron Gate?" The old man was looking distressed when he nodded. "The false dragon must have replaced your garrison with men he trusted – Reachmen and Dornishmen. He must think we'll attack through Iron Gate."

"Aye Your Grace," the old man confirmed. "The false dragon believes Iron Gate will be the targeted gate."

"We don't have time to march to Dragon Gate." Lord Royce frowned. "If we do, the false dragon's men will see us."

"The probably already have," Orys pointed out. "We have enough men to send to the three gates closest to us." He thought for a moment. "Lord Mallister, I want you to lead a host of men to the Old Gate. Lord Royce, I place you in charge of the troops to breach Iron Gate. Ser Barristan will be with you." Hopefully seeing two formidable warriors would dampen the false dragon's men's morale which may lead to an early surrender. "I will lead the vanguard of another host of men to the Dragon Gate with Lord Robb. Lord Tully and Ser Brynden, I want both of you and a force of your best men to march to the Kingsroad and wait."

Lord Tully's expression was full of rage. "Your Grace! My sister – your mother – is a hostage in the Red Keep! You must allow me to go and fight! What use am I here? Family, Duty, Honour! Catelyn is family!"

"I want you here as a last resort," said Orys quietly. "If I happen to die in battle, I want you, Ser Brynden, to leave immediately for the Eyrie, proclaim my brother Prince Ormund the king and protect him. That is when you, Lord Tully, will fight. If all our efforts to regain King's Landing fails, at least your army will still have a number of excellent warriors. If I die, I name my uncle Lord Stannis Baratheon as regent in the name of Ormund. If he happens to fall in battle as well, I name Lord Royce and Lord Tully as co-regents."

"What of your own child?" demanded Robb. "You will disinherit him?"

Orys looked at him and said steadily, "Better a boy king than an infant king or queen. Besides, my unborn child is technically a hostage. How can he or she be a ruler if he or she is in enemy hands?"

Robb did not look happy, but he said nothing.

Orys looked backed at the old man, who had been listening intently this whole time. "I will be honoured if you escort Lord Royce and his troops to the Iron Gate, my good man," he said kindly. "If you fear for your safety, there will be a few men picked to protect you. Lead Lord Royce into Iron Gate without much bloodshed, I promise you will be knighted at the end of the war."

The old man nodded vigorously. "I'll be honoured Your Grace." He gestured to Lord Royce. "Come with me my lord. Do you have battering rams and shields? It will take time to batter down the gate."

Leaving Lord Royce in charge of his host of men, Orys led his own troops away to Dragon Gate. The old man best be truthful about Humfrey Waters, he thought, as he approached the massive gate with four stone carved dragons crawling up its walls (two on each side of the gate) and one resting above the portcullis. Orys turned around and signalled for eight rivermen to bring the battering ram to the front of the army.

Before Orys could shout for Humfrey Waters, there was a loud thump.

Orys looked down on the ground in front of him and saw the corpse of a man, blood trickling down from the knife wedged in the back of his neck. The blood on the man's body was fresh. Too fresh.

Gendry, who had ridden with him, peered at the body. "That's Humfrey, Your Grace," he identified. "Humfrey Waters."

Orys stifled a groan. The one man who could have lessened the bloodshed was now dead! Praying to the Warrior for strength and courage, Orys gave the order to start ramming the gate.

The eight men marched to the Dragon Gate and taking a step or two back, ran to the gate, slamming the battering ram at it.

Boom.

"Arrows!" shouted Robb. Orys pushed his shield above his head as a volley of arrows rained down on them. His horse snickered and moved nervously around. Orys watched as the eight men continued slamming the battering ram against the Dragon Gate, ignoring the few arrows that hit their arms and shoulders.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Hurry up, Orys prayed, raising his shield again as another wave of arrows flew down. If the gate does not open, they were all sitting ducks. They would be shot by the false dragon's arrows before they could even draw their swords and fight. If this was happening at all the gates, he would lose a good quarter of men before riding into the Red Keep. That did not even include the number of wounded men. Orys couldn't help but hesitate. Would it be wiser to bring out the trebuchets and scorpions? It would cause a lot of damage but…

"The trebuchets!" Orys heard Lord Redfort shout. "Bring forth the trebuchets! Bring forth the trebuchets!"

It sounded like the Lord of Redfort was yelling his command to the enemy, as a rotting head was catapulted over the city walls and hit a Frey soldier squarely in the chest. Orys grimaced in disgust. Did the false dragon dig up the bodies or by chance did he keep a stash of all the men and women he'd killed? He wondered, as a few more rotting heads hit a few more soldiers.

"Almost there Your Grace!" a man yelled, moving with the other men to ram at the Dragon Gate with the battering ram. "Almost there!" With a final slam, the big, heavy gate groaned open.

Orys glanced at Ser Arthur Estermont and Ser Hendry Bracken. "Keep both the hostages safe," he instructed. "We'll need them very soon." He urged his horse to trot forward. He raised his sword and bellowed, "Charge!" He galloped forward, through the open Dragon Gate, his generals and allies behind him.

Waiting for them was an army of Reachmen. At the head of the troops was the Lord of Horn Hill. Standing beside him in chains were a scowling Edric Storm and a furious-looking Lady Wylla Manderly, who despite being chained, had her arms crossed as if in an act of defiance.

Orys and his good-brother Robb, exchanged worried looks.

"Baratheon," said Lord Tarly bluntly. "The king has no desire to lose more of his men than necessary. He is feeling rather merciful. I'll make this simple for you, Baratheon: surrender now and dispense your men – everyone here lives. Refuse? I will kill your bastard brother right in front of you. If you remain stubborn, Lady Wylla here will die after your bastard brother. Make your choice."


Thank you Guest for pointing out the mistake in the last chapter. I changed it and it should be fixed :) The only reason Orys named his brother as his heir is because he's the closest in line to the Iron Throne that is currently dwelling in a safe location. If they are going by the Targaryen succession (all male Targaryens first and then the closest female I think), after Ormund would be Stannis and his sons. Stannis is fighting in the war, Orys doesn't know where Steffon is and Robert (Stannis's younger son) is at Storm's End.