A/N: Never written a battle scene before, PM any idea's that I need to work on if you want you. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4:

The Stormlands had been aptly named, as the harsh winds and furious instant thunderstorms could turn any trek into an ominous journey. The vivid greenery of the foggy forests to the harsh rocky hills and mountain slopes, it was a beautiful as it was dangerous.

My ancestors had once been the ruling Kings of this fiefdom, a one point all the way to the Blackwater, they were fierce, and proud.

Then the conqueror had landed and brought with him, fire and blood. This conqueror's bastard half-brother Orys Baratheon the one-handed, just another of my lordly ancestors, had slew the Storm King in single combat, leaving a female as the only Durrandon heir. King Argon had ordered his half brother to marry the man's daughter to solidify his hold on the region. House Baratheon had been born of two ancient bloodlines.

Over time the Targaryens and Baratheons had continued to intermarry and so reviving the blood connections of our founders.

The loaded march we had been on for nearly week was beginning to grate on the men's nerves, I knew that as it was testing my own.

Organized In half a dozen columns of men that seemed to stretch endlessly, we marched harder than King Rhaegar's host, so that we would make it within a day of him taking the Capitol. Breaks were given obviously, short but enough before resuming our trek southeast. We had left the Kingsroad a day past, to avoid the enemy scouts and to take a route known only to those of the area, who guided the army thoroughly.

I had ordered our horse, light and heavy to spread out, hunting for game or for enemy spies. You could never be too sure of who was watching, no Reacher lords were in our host.

Prince Oberyrn had been a constant companion alongside Ser Barristan, though our talks were halted at first, we struck up a comradery of sorts. Each experts of our own chosen weapon, skilled at arms and tactics, we were alike in many ways.

We were making terrific time, I knew that and so did the men, yet it doesn't stop the frustration of such hard Marches.

In a day's time we would be coming to Storm's End, and finally relieve my home of that disgusting farce of a siege. But for now, I knew my men would need a good night's worth of rest to prepare themselves.

With this in thought, I mentally reviewed our surroundings, remembering what my father had taught of our geography of our homeland.

Though rugged and rocky, it was perfect to hide large armies on the move.

I forced the men to March for a while past dusk, making our way slowly through a winding valley until it widened into a somewhat open plain in between three of the rugged mountains.

Calling the halt, I set the men to make camp.

"Ser Barristan would you join me please?" I called out. Taking a large breath I swung out of Fury's saddle, my loyal warhorse that had been given to me by my father less than a year before he had passed.

Handing off the reign's to the ever diligent squire I moved towards an open space and began unrolling my medium sized tent.

I had made it known that we would be keeping all the luxury out of our campaign southward when we broke from the King Rhaegar's host.

Ser Barristan stood off to my right, unloading his own tent, his own squire brushing and bedding down their horse's as well.

Soon enough I had completed my task, my nobling squire from house Royce building up a small campfire, and began passing out rations to the men around us.

Looking up from my seat on the ground, next to Ser Barristan I gazed at the multitude of exhausted and silent men, Noble and commoner alike.

A wry smile crossed my face as I thought of the surprise I would give Tyrell the next day. The King didn't try to dissuade away from my intended battle plans. It was not honorable how Mace Tyrell flaunted his pompous ass outside my Castle. Bah. Banquets and tourneys for Fucks sake! My expression must have become twisted as the younger Royce seemed to inch away from me.

"No need to be afraid boy just thinking about my brothers and how they are." I explained with a lie, then with a chuckle at his reddened face.

"If Mace Tyrell had conducted this siege honorably I would attempt to sway you in a more peaceful manner my Lord." Ser Barristan spoke up from my side, his food consumed, and a mug of watered wine in hand.

"It will be nice to finally have at these damn Reachers!" The Prince spoke across from us.

"Thank you for that." I replied cordially, to the famed knight. Chuckling at the contempt in the Dornishman's voice.

"May I ask a question of you Ser?"

"Of course my Lord." He prompted

"How bad is it in the RedKeep? I've heard the rumors, but truly, aunt Rhaella, did he…" my voice trailed off.

Honestly I hadn't thought of her in a long time, not since mother and father had been killed during the storm of shipwrecker's bay.

When I was a young boy, she had always been an ever present individual when we lived with father in the Capitol, as he was the Master of Ships.

I remember her and mother being close, how she always had a smile for Rhaegar, Stannis, and I. I could still recall the beautiful violet eyes, pale silver hair, and dimpled smile.

"Yes." He answered quietly, before continuing with a calming breath.

"The King has not always been mad, you must know that. I cannot say when it truly began, whether when he was held hostage for those years in Duskendale or even before that and the NinePenny war.

Though what I do know is that It killed us all, the Kingsguard, everytime he hurt her, every scream for help that we couldn't answer. Then and now I still curse Aerys to the deepest of the seven bells, and painful death. As I stood silently by as my Queen was brutalized by her own husband and brother, we did nothing." His voice had become bitter and self loathing. Silence permeated through the air.

I didn't reply, I couldn't. If I had heard this even a year prior I would have raged, and screamed and called him a coward.

Yet I knew he only did his duty as his oath demanded. I knew that in my heart he and his fellow knights must be tormented to have served a mad man.

'Ned is rubbing off on me!' I thought before I Said,

"Promise me Ser.." I begin. Taking a breath.

"That you will protect Lyanna, her child, Elia and her own children no matter the cost. Promise me that you will never allow another Mad King to live."

"I swore an oath."

I was about to cut him off in rage, 'an oath'? Yet he continued speaking in a steady voice before I could.

"I swore to King Rhaegar that day on the field, that if the time ever comes that should he ever become his father when I serve him I would strike him down in that moment, damn the consequences. To protect his family, and to protect his people." He ended in almost a whisper.

I relaxed, letting out the air collected in my lungs in relief.

'Yes, that does sound like something Rhaegar would expect from his KingsGuard.'

"May that time never come." I tell him, raising my own mug in salute.

"If you don't I will, my sister has suffered enough embarrassment." Prince Oberyn muttered quietly.

I knew that he and Rhaegar had a very long conversation between them, both before the Trident and the time after. Whatever was said had stayed between them, and no one wished to risk the wrath of the Viper.

The night was spent resting, enjoying time with the men we had all come to befriend, for on the morrow some would never be able to do so again. Soon I begged off to sleep as we would strike camp come mid morning, march half the day it would take to get in position, then finally take the enemy by surprise.

--

The next morning..

"I will lead the Vanguard myself. Bronze will take the left and Prince Obyrn the right. Ser Barristan will lead the main host in the center, with the heavy calvary following right behind the Van.

Our archers will be commanded by Lord Caron. Lord Ryswell will attack their flank, which is why he and 4000 of our horse left early this morning. " I explained to the gathered lords of the various regions, Ser Barristan, and the Prince at my side.

" We move out now, by an hour before dusk we will attack."

Near a hundred lords of various notoriety surrounds us, all mounted, with faces set in excited or grim anticipation.

Wheeling around Fury I held my hammer high into the sky, slowing bringing ot down in front of me, the order 'March' had been given.

Some would say the hours before a planned battle is more taxing than the actual battle itself, from either worry or stress. Existential life crisis tend to become normal at these times. Others would say the aftermath of a battle is worse, for the injured, or the dead, or those who cannot process what had happened soon become shells of who they once were. Battle Fatigue it was named.

But it's a bit of both I believe, the building of excitement for combat verse the fatigue and realization that so many have died, that you may die. It was a complex, messy thing to bs sure.

I won't lie, I love battle, I live to fight. It is what makes me feel alive, more so than either fucking or wine could ever do.

Soon my blood began to rise, the anticipation building quicker, the time for blood was soon. I could see it in the veteran warriors around me, from the faces of the pikemen and spearmen nearest me, to the noble's on their mounts with their sparkling naive eyes.

Oh yes, today would be a good day. I could finally let my sorrow, my frustrations loose. I could finally calm my ravaged heart with the Hammer and the shield.

Today would be a red day. Yes, today would be a good day!

Several Hours later..

It was nearing evening, the sun not yet hanging too low to be considered dusk but soon it would be.

We trudged slowly over rocky hills in a route step formation, as to keep our approach as silent as we could for as long as we could.

We had stopped the procession an hour pass for all men to quickly take a piss and shit, to lessen the chance of doing so before battle. Some would still loose then bowels but it always helps to give the men a chance to die with their dignity if you can help it.

We had finally reached our destination, the men silently shuffled into their pre-ordered formations, banners held high, blades naked to air. Bowstrings taunt, they were the first to move. Then the vanguard cantered directly behind me as I trotted forward, towards the final hill that separates the enemy's camp and the plateau that Storm's End resides on overlooking the bay.

The archers finished moving into position, waiting for the signal, their commander doing a weapons check, verifying his men were ready, he looked over to me, giving me the affirmative. I gave Lord Caron the go-ahead, as he signaled for them to fire three consecutive volleys of arrows, as they stood up from their crouched positions on top of the hill. At the same time I raised my hammer high up into the air once more, however this time swiftly brought it down, urging Fury forward he broke out into a gallop.

Suddenly the rush of fresh sobering air mixed with the evening fog crashed against my antlered helm. The air filled my nares and mouth as I lowered myself more compactly over Fury, shield brought in close and held in the same hand as my reigns, hammer tucked in, but at the ready to swing.

I could hear the horn bellow, and the drums of war crash, and then! Ah yes, the panicked screams of the enemy being pelted by our Marcher lord's bowmen.

A roar ripped through my throat as another volley landed, a mere 100 yards from our charge, pounding into the front line of hastily erected spearmen.

With an ungodly crash worthy of thunder of the mightiest storms we collided in a flurry of steel and wood, of flesh and blood.

My mind blanked. No thoughts but of where my hammer fell. The first man to fall was a Tarley levy, his face was crushed under the weight of dull steel.

My second crumpling under the hooves Fury's charge, after a back-handed swing.

Pushing further into their lines, my hammer fell steadily, my Vanguard brothers at my side, our charge had broken their attempted barrier.

Everywhere I looked the enemy fell, it seemed almost pitiful.

A knight in full plate, came rushing at me, his great sword arching to take me off my horse.

Quickly I raised my shield and blocked the man's strong swing.

He backed off, as if goading me into dismounting to face him on equal terms.

'This is a knight worth fighting' I couldn't help but grin.

Complying, I suddenly hopped out of my saddle crashing onto the ground next to Fury.

Stalking forward, I circled the knight, though I could see no indication as to whom he served, I could see he was a professional.

He made the first move, stepping forward, a double hand over head swing. I didn't bother blocking, just dodged swiftly to the side, bringing my warhammer from the right, parallel from the ground I hammered his left arm, causing him to drop the greatsword.

Stunned, he didn't move quickly enough to dodge the next instant my hammer caved his helmet into his skull.

'Okay, maybe not a professional. A green boy more like.' I scoff, moving towards Fury. batting away levies, crushing them like bugs under my boots.

I don't remember how much time had passed, but it was near fully dark at this point.

After dispatching another knight in the flowery rose of the Tyrell's I noticed the lack of bodies coming our way. Looking around I saw the men had begun to lay down their arms, surrendering.

'What the fuck?'

"Lord Baratheon!" I heard from my left, swinging around to see who had called out.

It was Ser Barristan, his white plate covered in blood and grime.

"The Tyrell's have given the flag of surrender! Their men are running!" He shouted, his voice almost hoarse.

"Aye, I see that, have the nobles rounded up, and the maesters begin to treat the wounded, all the wounded." I call out, adding the last portion, knowing it was the right thing to do.

Looking for my companions, I saw them right behind me, some 10 feet away, each still hail and alive.

My squire had fought right behind me the entire time, killing left and right, that boy had earned his knighthood. His father would be a proud man.

Many of my men at arms saluted me as we rode past, headed towards my family, my ancestral home, Storm's End.

The reacher lords were lined up, their weapons still on them, as they knew they had been beaten.

Hell, Mace Tyrell looked as if he hadn't even gotten to draw his sword, hiding back behind his men most like.

Nodding to Lord Bolton, who had it seemed taken charge of the prisoners, we moved under the raised gates and battlements to reach the inner courtyard where my brother Stannis stood.

Stannis, gods that boy looked horrible! Skinny, and gaunt, his eyes set on me as I dismounted, walking towards him.

"My Lord, Storm's End is yours." His grim voice acknowledges, teeth grinding as usual.

I didn't bother saying anything, and just swept the annoying sullen brother into a crushing hug.

"Thank the gods you are alright." My voice was low, emotion straining my normally loud tone.

He was taken aback, I could tell. Unsure of what to do, he finally settled with wrapping his arms around me and said,

"Thank you Robert." It was quiet, but I could tell he meant it.

Releasing him him with a squeeze of his shoulder I turned towards our prisoners and men o' war that escorted them.

"You will kneel, and swear fealty in from of me in proxy for his Highness King Rhaegar Targaryen lord of the Seven Kingdoms, the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar." My voice boomed at full volume, filling every crevice with my proclamation.

"If you had not mocked me and my people by this farce of a siege, the King would have allowed a peaceful ending to this conflict. However you not only starved my family, you taunted and dishonored them by your foolishness." I yell at Mace Tyrell, his face pale as a ghost in honor to gods fright.

"You will be held as a guest for one day as my men distribute food and see to the wounded, your men will be well taken care of, I swear that by the old and new." I finish, relaying as to why they had to be held, well that was so my men didn't tear them apart.

We have rather stormy tempers here in the Stormlands after all.

Lord Mace Tyrell officially swore his life and house to that of the crown, his men followed suit immediately.

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