A big thank you to Arkyn for writing this interlude.


Lukas the Guardsman

Stormlanders were notoriously stubborn and unyielding folk, they had to be to live in a place as harsh as the Stormlands, it took a certain type of person to look up at the lightning scrawled sky, while raindrops as fat as a gold coin drenched them to the bone and ruined their crops, and have the sky fuck off first.

Stormlander stubbornness went as far back as Durran Godsgrief, a man so stubborn and prideful, that when nature itself turned his castle into nought but crumbled stone, the man took it as a challenge and built more castles in a place he was clearly not wanted, until eventually, it was nature that gave up first.

When a man or woman of the Stormlands got an idea into their heads, they clung to it with both hands until their dying breaths, and attempting to change their minds would be like trying to wrestle a bull, mayhaps even worse, since Lukas didn't doubt that a Stormlander would be more bullheaded than an actual bull.

Lukas snorted to himself, before quickly sobering up with a long drawn out sigh.

Eastwood was a prosperous region, and it was only continuing to prosper with Lord Aelon at the reins, everyone in Eastwood knew that and everyone outside of Eastwood knew that.

It was why people had willingly come from the lands of Bronzegate, seeking to settle in the lands where it was said the Lord actually cared. At first, there had been minor tension from the Eastwood and Buckler smallfolk, but the smallfolk of Eastwood weren't bitter people, after all, it was hard to stay upset when everything was going good in your life.

For a long time, the smallfolk that came willingly to Eastwood in search of better lives and the smallfolk of Eastwood coexisted peacefully, hells, Lukas's mother was best friends with their neighbours who were Bronzegate immigrants.

Until the refugees came in. They came pouring in from all over Lord Eastwood's fief and even beyond.

A harsh winter, famine, and a plague had all struck Westeros, even one of those catastrophes would have left a man bitter. All three of them together had left many men frothing at the mouth with wroth and no one to blame any of it on except the gods, and you couldn't exactly do anything to harm the gods except not show up to your local sept.

It was only a matter of time before the bitter refugees who had been forcefully displaced from their homes and had taken shelter in Eastwood became resentful of their lot in life and began blaming the only person they could, Eastwood and its Lord.

So far, their acts of defiance had been kept to slander and drunken brawls at the inns, both of which were handled easily enough by the well equipped and well trained Eastwood guard, of course, the rest of the residents of Eastwood did not stand idly by, as the Buckler men slandered Lord Aelon, to whom they owed everything to.

It wasn't uncommon for Lukas to see those refugees hurt the most by the famine and plague, disgracing the Lord of Eastwood's good name in a public area, and to see that same man walking around with bruises and a split lip the very next day.

Lukas and his fellow guardsmen were not above turning a blind eye if their fellow residents of Eastwood wished to protect their Lord's honour.

That wasn't to say that any of the Eastwood guards mistreated any discontented refugees. Lord Aelon had informed them all that while the men's disrespect could not be taken lightly, and when they crossed the line, they must be punished. But even so, he had asked them to consider that those who spoke the loudest were also often the worst affected.

Punishment was to be meted out when it was deserved. But it should be proportional to the crime, said their Lord. Now while half those words made little sense to Lukas, he understood the spirit of the Lord's order and followed it to the best of his ability.

Lukas was unsure just how effective such a thing would be, after all, in times of great distress, the smallfolk always blamed their lord for their problems, even if they did so quietly. And once a Stormlander got an idea into their heads, there was very little that could sway them.

Sometimes Lukas was unsure whether the famed Stormlander stubbornness wasn't simply Stormlander stupidity.

After all, Lord Aelon fed them, gave them jobs, took them in to his lands when no one else did and gave them better lives than they could have ever lived under the rule of the Bucklers of Bronzegate. He'd even arranged for those guardsmen who wished to advance, to be taught their letters and numbers, an opportunity that Lukas had jumped at.

Soon enough, Lukas had become an officer in the guard and had near ten men reporting to him. And so when he saw discontent smallfolk in the streets responding to Lord Aelon's kindness with vile words and disrupting the peace in Eastwood, he didn't mind if someone took them out of sight and showed them the 'error' of their ways.

Things were tense in Eastwood, Lukas didn't think things would boil over into the smallfolk of Eastwood and the smallfolk of Bronzegate battling it out in the streets, but then again, he never thought that a long winter, famine and plague would strike Westeros at the same time, so who knew what could happen?

It wasn't too hard to avoid mistreating the discontent Buckler refugees, nor was it hard to avoid killing them, for they were trained men, and Lord Aelon had seen fit to equip them with a long wooden club that he referred to as a "Baton."

A queer name, but Lukas wasn't one to question his Lord.

After all, Lord Aelon had given him everything, three meals on his family's table a day, a job in the Eastwood guard, and even a little brother, since his Ma and Pa had deemed their family stable enough to birth another baby boy, whom they had named Daegon, after Lord Aelon's deceased father.

Lukas smiled fondly at the thought of his family, as he walked towards the training yard outside of the Stormtower, the sounds of steel striking steel and the shouts of training men echoing in his ears.

The Lord had summoned the men at arms of Eastwood to the yard for some kind of announcement. When he arrived, it was to the sight of Ser James Potter and Lord Aelon sparring.

Though, mayhaps spar was a bit of an understatement.

Ser James Potter was a whirlwind of steel, his sword moving in intricate and skilful patterns that were impossible for Lukas to follow, let alone even think of countering, and he moved like a dancer, never in the same place for more than a second and using his sword to slash, stab and parry as if it were an extension of his arm, he appeared to be skill and grace personified.

In direct contrast to Ser James, Lord Aelon was the concept of efficiency made flesh, his sword didn't move in the staggeringly complex patterns of Ser James, it moved in simple manoeuvres that were perfectly executed, and not a single movement of his was wasted, every dodge, every stab and every block was performed with the absolute minimum movement and energy required.

There were some detractors of Lord Aelon's father, who claimed the baseborn bastard had used dirty tricks to beat the Darkrobin, for how else could a bastard beat a prestigious knight of the Kingsguard?

There was no doubt in Lukas's mind that if those same people saw Lord Aelon fighting, there would be no doubts as to Daegon's fighting ability.

Lord Aelon slowly lost ground to Ser James, not that it was surprising, while Lord Aelon was good with a blade and invested many hours into practising, he was still the Lord of Eastwood, with all the duties and responsibilities such a title carried. Whereas Ser James Potter had all the time in the world to practice the blade, and it was even his job to be good with a blade.

Of course, Lord Aelon was a good man, but he certainly wasn't above fighting dirty.

Ser James sent a stab towards Lord Aelon's midriff, which Lord Aelon dodged by the barest amounts, Lukas saw Ser James lift his shield in preparation for the attack that he thought Lord Aelon would send.

Only it never came.

Lord Aelon smirked at Ser James and trapped Ser James' sword arm under his armpit.

Ser James clearly didn't expect the move for his eyes widened in shock and having his backwards momentum suddenly halted, tripped on his feet.

The taller Lord Aelon used this opportunity to tackle Ser James to the dirt, and carried by his larger frame and heavy training gear, sent Ser James to the ground with a huff as the air left Ser James' lungs.

With Ser James' sword arm pinned beneath him, Lord Aelon dropped his sword, unsheathed the dagger at his hip and placed it underneath Ser James' chin.

"Yield?" The Lord of Eastwood asked his friend.

No one was surprised when Ser James said "Yes," with a smile on his face directed towards his Lord and friend.

"Not bad my Lord, what's the score now? Seventeen to seven?" Ser James asked as Lord Aelon helped him up to his feet, a cheeky smile etched on his face and mirth dancing in the green eyes he had inherited from his father Ser Harys Potter.

"In your favour, aye," Lord Aelon replied with good cheer, Lukas hadn't seen every spar between Lord Aelon and Ser James, but if the words of his fellow Eastwood guardsmen were to be believed, Lord Aelon had not won any of his other matches fairly either.

None of the Eastwood guard or man at arms thought less of Lord Aelon for that, after all, they weren't fancy knights with notions of honour and valour who rode into war in full plate armour. They were men of the land and they all knew that war was not pretty nor was it fair, and to use any dirty trick at your disposal if it meant you went home alive. Honour and chivalry were a luxury enjoyed by the highborn…and those pansy Reachmen.

Such had been drilled into all of them by their fathers, their mothers and the late Ser Morden, and as the former squire of Ser Morden, it made sense that Lord Aelon was the biggest cheater out of all of them.

Ser James, on account of being younger than Lord Aelon, was still slow to resort to the same dirty tactics Lord Aelon did, but he was learning.

Lukas had even heard Ser James had thrown dirt in the eyes of Lord Aelon during their last spar.

Still, the fact that Lord Aelon could keep up with Ser James at all was a testament to his prowess with a blade and was a reason all the men of Eastwood respected Lord Aelon even more, after all.

It was hard not to respect a man that could kick your ass.

This was also a testament to Ser James's prowess with a sword, after all, he was younger, had trained for fewer years with a sword than Lord Aelon and he could still manage to beat Lord Aelon in a fair fight.

It eased Lukas's anxiety, he wasn't blind and he had seen the Baratheons taking refuge in the Eastwood, and he had heard that the call had gone out summoning the banners. Lord Aelon had his complete and utter loyalty and respect, and he would die for him if he needed to, however, that didn't mean he exactly wanted to die.

But knowing just how capable his liege Lord and Master of Arms were with a blade put him at ease, after all, with such capable warriors on their side, what had they to fear?

Lukas spied Lady Elena approaching the training yard, with the little lords' Ned and Aethan in tow.

How the good Lady could give birth to such monsters, Lukas would never know. That wasn't to say Lukas or any of the Eastwood guardsmen hated the little lords, far from it.

They were simply a pain to look after.

The little lords took after their father and mother in appearance, inheriting the valyrian hair that made it look as if they had locks of spun silver, and eyes the colour of the most vibrant amethyst.

Ned as the older of the two was the tallest, and may even grow to be taller than Lord Aelon, with Aethan looking to grow just as tall, though Ned would be the thinner of the two, with Aethan looking to develop a body that was a mountain of muscle.

The little lords took after their father and mother in more than just appearance, they took after them in cunning as well, but where Lord Aelon and Lady Elena used their minds to better Eastwood and nurture their household.

Ned and Aethan used their minds for nothing but mischief, they were the terrors of the castle, they frequently managed to break into the guard barracks and steal pieces of equipment only to hide them in the most inconvenient of places.

Snuck into the kitchens late at night to steal enough food worthy of a King's banquet for a late-night snack and one occasion, when Lady Elena had remarked there was an uptake in the population of rats in the Stormtower, the two terrors had managed to get and release no less than a dozen feral cats into the keep.

To this day no one knew how they managed to get so many cats.

And the less said about the acts of mischief they pulled on poor Maester Armon, the better.

Of course, they weren't completely out of control, they were dutiful boys looking to have some fun, and it was an open secret that Lord Aelon encouraged and even helped their bouts of mischief, he and Lady Elena knew when to lay down the law and stop the little lords from going too far.

Moreso Lady Elena, than Lord Aelon, for she was the true ruler of the castle, Lord Aelon listened to everything she said, like the dutiful husband he was.

Such were the pitfalls of marriage, Lukas supposed.

As the little lords went to embrace their father, and Lady Elena gave Lord Aelon a peck on the cheek, Lukas was reminded of when his own Ma and Pa stood side by side.

"Gather up men!" Lord Aelon called out to the men in the training yard, and they all dutifully responded.

"As you all have no doubt heard, war is brewing on the horizon, Borys Baratheon means to wrongfully imprison his younger brother and rightful regent Garon Baratheon," Lord Aelon looked each of them in the eyes, his own haunting violet eyes conveying the severity of the situation.

"He marches on Eastwood with Lords Buckler, Fell, and Trant," they all heard the mocking edge with which Lord Aelon spoke the word "Lords," a small snicker rising through the gathered crowd of men loyal to House Eastwood.

"It's no secret that the Bucklers have despised me practically since the moment I was installed as Lord of Eastwood, in my younger years I wondered why he would hate me, for I had given him no cause to do so," Lord Aelon didn't raise his voice when he spoke, for he did not need to, all of them were silent as they hung onto every word.

"It is only now that I realise why he hates me so, would you all like to know why?" Lord Aelon asked rhetorically.

"Envy, " the young Lord said with a mocking smirk on his face "For hundreds of years the Bucklers of Bronzegate have grown fat and lazy, stagnating. While we men of Eastwood in barely a dozen years have gone from a land that isn't worth the dirt it rests on, to a land that rivals, nay, a land that surpasses their own."

"He thinks me a peasant, reaching above his station. And you know what? I am," continued the Lord of Eastwood, "I am no different to you. I wasn't born in some lordly castle under a Maester's care. I was born in a hovel in the Riverlands. I worked the fields in summer and hungered in winter. Eventually, I learnt a trade."

A hush fell across the yard. Seeing the regal visage of their lord, it was hard to imagine that he had been one of them once upon a time. But it was for this very reason that they loved him. For once, they were ruled by a man, who was one of their own, who not only knew how hard their lot in life was; but had actually experienced it himself.

"I have toiled as you have. I have hungered as you have. I have felt the pain of starvation during winter as I rubbed my toes to prevent the bite from taking them. And when by the grace of the Seven, I was ennobled, I swore that none of my people would ever face that again. Borys Baratheon and his lackeys seek to destroy what we have built here. Will you let that happen?!" roared his Lord.

Pride rushed through all their veins like lava, and a roar almost broke out of the throats of every single man in the crowd, a roar held back by nothing but respect for Lord Aelon, for no one wished to interrupt their beloved liege lord.

"And when the same incompetent man, marches on Eastwood, to sack your homes, murder your women and kill me, are we going to let him?" The lord roared his fury.

"NO!" The word was shouted out by every man there, by some unspoken signal, the word itself spoken with such fury and hate for the men who would dare try to ruin their livelihoods, to take what was theirs, to destroy their homes.

It was only the fact that the bastards were leagues away that stopped Lukas from taking up his sword and racing to murder the first man in Buckler livery he could, and even that almost wasn't enough.

"GOOD!" Lord Aelon shouted back "We are the men of Eastwood, we beat those bastards off once before, and by the gods, old and new, we will do it again!"

"And if the senile old man Bryce Buckler thinks he can take what I love!" The Lord of Eastwood, the Stormtower and Daegon's Valley looked back at his wife and children, a frightening and complex mix of emotions swirling in his haunting violet eyes and on his face, he appeared as a rabid animal.

No.

He looked like a dragon.

"Then may the gods have mercy on his soul, for I will not!" Aelon roared once more at his men, and in that moment, Lukas felt invincible as him and his fellow men of Eastwood roared back their rage and defiance, he doubted even the gods could have stopped them in that moment.

"For Eastwood!"

"For Eastwood!"

"For Eastwood!"

"Now get back to training! For in but a few days, Borys Baratheon and Bryce Buckler will be dead, and Eastwood will be victorious!"

The men of House Eastwood followed their lord's order with more vigour than they had done anything in their lives.

Lukas spied Lord Aelon taking his lady wife by the waist and escorted her and his two sons away from the training yard, and in that moment Lukas knew Lord Aelon would fight with a fury, if for no other reason than to protect his family.

'Never mess with a man's family,' Lukas thought to himself as he took up a training sword and went to fulfil his lord's orders.