Tygett III

Somewhere in the Stormlands, 298 AC

Many years ago, someone whose name he didn't remember had told Tygett that a sunny day on the eve of a battle was a good omen. A sign that the gods where on the side of the righteous.

To him, it had always been just a load of nonsensical bullshit. He had never cared about the gods, old or new. And even if they were real, he highly doubted that they would waste their time meddling in the affairs of mortals.

To Tygett, there were neither good nor bad omens. There were just men and their skills, their will to fight and overcome any obstacles.

Their will to slay their foes.

"Gods, how can they be that stupid?" muttered Prince Vyseris from Tygett's left.

"Just give me an order, Your Grace, and they won't get any closer!" said Lord Robert angrily.

"I would advise against it, Your Grace." Tygett tried to be the voice of reason. "There are certain unwritten rules that must be respected no matter the circumstances. Like the laws of hospitality: nobody ever bothered to write them down, yet they are respected nonetheless."

Luckily, the prince choose to listen to him. The imposter's envoys, bearing a white banner of truce, were then led in front of him. Meanwhile, Lord Baratheon was seething with rage. Tygett couldn't blame him. He, too, would have executed those men right where they stood. However, disrespecting a banner of truce could prove counterproductive.

A man could never truly know when he might find himself on the opposite side.

The man leading the party then spoke. "On behalf of King Aegon VI, I commend you for your common sense. His Grace hates unnecessary bloodsheds."

Tygett saw Lord Robert clench his fist at that.

"I am Prince Vyseris of House Targaryen. With whom am I speaking?"

"I am named Moqorro, priest of R'hllor." Tygett looked at the newcomer. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with white hair and strange tatoos on his cheeks and forehead. He wore red robes and carried a staff with a dragon's head. "And spiritual advisor to His Grace King Aegon." Tygett couldn't help but notice the flawless way he spoke the Common Tongue. There was just a hint of an accent. He wondered where that man came from. The Summer Islands, maybe?

"I don't like wasting time, so I will go straight to the point. I don't see the reason for this parley. It seems, frankly, quite useless." said the prince while looking at the man in red.

"I thought you would see it like that. However, as I said earlier, His Grace hates unnecessary bloodsheds."

"You do realize that the one you serve is an imposter, do you?"

"He is the one, true king of the Seven Kingdoms. The boy currently sitting the throne is the real imposter. You couldn't possibly know, of course. His Grace doesn't blame you."

"His Grace..." The Prince of Summerhall shook his head. "Why did he even ask for this parley?"

"Because he wants to give you and your soldiers a chance to live. He doesn't want you, his uncle, to die. He doesn't want brave, honest men to die for a false king. He just wants what is rightfully his." the black-skinned priest answered. "However, should anyone actively stand in his way, they will be wiped out like flowers in a storm."

"You seem to be very confident in your king's victory."

"R'hllor is on his side."

"This...R'hllor you speak of..."

"He is the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, and the God of Flame and Shadow. And He has chosen King Aegon as His champion on this earth."

Tygett tried to make sense of those words. He had heard about the red priests and their fire god. It was an Essosi faith that was little known in Westeros. Why would the imposter have one of them as an advisor? Was he a follower? Did he mean to introduce this religion in the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps to replace the gods old and new? If the latter was the case, then he was even more of a fool then they had first thought. The Westerosi may be willing to accept a new religion, but having it forced down their throat...

"Enough with this nonsense!" spat Lord Baratheon. Prince Vyseris looked at his cousin sideways. "Just surrender, or get the fuck out of here and send in your army!"

"Cousin Robert..."

"My lord, there is no need to be so harsh." the red priest calmly said, seemingly unperturbed by the stormlander's outburst. "I come in peace. As I said, the king wants to give you a chance to live."

Prince Vyseris sighed. "Look, you surely don't expect us to just believe your claims and welcome you all to King's Landing with open arms."

"Of course not, my prince. Everybody needs proof, after all. And proof you shall have."

Tygett furrowed his brow. He didn't know why, but he didn't like the sound of that.

"For tomorrow morning, R'hllor willing," Moqorro continued. "you will see a dragon soar across these very skies."

There was a moment of silence as those words sunk in. A dragon? Gods, they aren't just stupid. They are insane. He tried his best to not burst out laughing.

"A...a dragon? Perhaps you haven't been told, but the dragons died a long time before you or me were even born." the prince said patiently.

"I know that, Your Grace. But there are still ways to bring them back. Their remains can be found in some places, and with enough magic they can be awakened.

"This is what some of the king's best men were sent to do on Dragonstone. Once they have taken the island, which they should already have done by now, they will awaken the dragon that has been laying there for centuries."

Tygett looked at the faces of those around him. It was clear that they too were having a hard time believing those words.

"And you claim that...that this will be a sign from your god of your king's legitimacy?"

The red priest nodded. "Indeed. So, I simply ask you all to wait until the morrow, so that you may witness the truth of my words with your own eyes."

In a move that surprised everyone, Prince Vyseris agreed to the priest's request.

"Your Grace, may I ask..." Tygett tried to say later, once they were on their way back to camp.

"What was I thinking, Ser Tygett? Well, I supposed there was no harm in humoring a fool's request." stated the prince with a smirk. "I think it's plain to everyone that these people are just desperate fools. Dragons awakening? A fire god? The Blackfyre line has reached its lowest point." He chuckled. "We will wait until the sun is high, and then we will put an end to this folly once and for all!"

"So, you don't think that they can wield actual magic? Or that they can take Dragonstone?"

"Please! The garrison on that island is strong enough to witstand and repel a siege. As for magic, it died with the dragons."

There were no further exchanges after that. Tygett went to sleep in his tent, and waited for the next day to arrive.

At dawn, the camp became once again a hotbed of activity. The news of the red priest's request had spread like wildfire, so many soldiers could be seen curiously looking at the sky. Tygett, too, took a few glances. A small part of him couldn't help but wonder what would happen if those absurd claims proved true.

They all waited, and waited, until the sun was at its highest point.

Nothing happened. No dragons, and no signs of magic. Not even a cloud. Only a few birds, and that feeling that always came right before a battle. Fear, the desperate need to hit something, and the hope to survive.

"Well, we have waited long enough." said Prince Vyseris from his horse, looking at the sky. He looked nervous, though he tried to hide it. "Let's get this done with."

Tygett, Lord Robert, and the other commanders began barking orders to their men. Banners were raised, swords and pikes were readied. The sounds of feet and hooves filled the air as the march began.

And finally, they came into sight of the enemy host. It seemed that they had somehow foreseen their arrival, for they too were moving.

Tygett held his breath as the warhorns were blared.

Prince Viserys took out his sword and shouted at the top of his lungs. "FIRE AND BLOOD!"

Similar warcries followed. Lord Robert menacingly held his warhammer and surged ahead, charging the enemy like a demon from the seven hells. "STORM'S END!" As soon as the two hosts met, his warhammer smashed an enemy soldier's head. Without wasting time, Lord Robert soon moved to another target. Tygett couldn't help but shudder at the ferocity of the stormlord.

He didn't get much time to think about that, however, as he soon found himself crossing blades with a knight. The other man almost managed to take him by surprise and knock him off his horse. Tygett reacted fast enough to repel his attack and send him reeling backwards.

Tygett grit his teeth. He couldn't afford any kind of distraction. He would keep an eye out for Tyrek and Prince Vyseris, of course. But aside from this, he had to focus all of himself on the battle. He spat on the ground and tightened the grip on the hilt of his sword, the noises of the battle slowly filling his ears.

"CASTERLY ROCK!" he bellowed, and spurred his horse.

XXXXXX

Taken from a letter sent by Ser Willem Darry, castellan of Dragonstone, to Queen Dowager Cersei Targaryen

...I don't know whether to pity them or laugh at their stupidity. They really thought that they could take the island with that paltry lot of theirs. Anyway, Your Grace, I'm glad to inform you that this pathetic invasion attempt has been suppressed, and those few invaders that survived are now in the dungeons awaiting execution...

AN: I really wanted to show you the entire battle. I had this wonderful image in my mind of Tygett and Robert fighting back to back. However, as I realized while I was rewriting this chapter for the third time, I really suck at writing action scenes. I hope you still enjoyed the chapter.

Anyway, next chapter we will go back to the North, to poor little Minisa and her fate! And someone else will die!