Beric

The heat was sweltering; this summer was shaping up to be the longest in a very long time, and the sun held everything down with an oppressive hand. When Olyvar switched to a light tunic to fit under his armor Beric briefly considered if he'd made the wrong decision. The man had turned from a skinny teenager to a man with muscles made out of necessity. The years of running, and fighting had left inumerable scars rippling up, and down his large back. On his back was the ink of the tattoo of the red wolf, his other reminder of where he came from Beric mused. The other was his son named Robb after the boy king that died in the hall behind Beric, the red wedding, he was too young to remember the event, but no matter how long he lived he would never escape that bloody legacy. Than another thought unbidden pushed into his mind, us three on this field we are the last freys, and soon that number would fall to two, once upon a time Beric Frey was born 45th in line to the lord of the crossing. A smile drifted across his face like a fallen leaf. Beric's squire was only a year younger but a combination of slight stature, and quiet temperament meant he looked like a child compared to the towering Beric. The squire attached the armor at shoulder and waist without as much as a word. When the shield came out Beric turned to study the boy.

"Bring the spear from my castellan, quickly." His tone was a little harsher than he wanted it to be, and the boy flinched like he'd cracked a whip. The boy paused only to shoot a curious glance before he scurried off to obey. Beric's attention returned to his opponent, and tried his best to replicate his father's steely gaze. The walk across the yard toward Olyvar was the longest trek he'd ever made or at least that's how it seemed. When he'd finally made it to the older gentleman, it was a moment before Robb noticed him he stared defiantly. Beric tried his best to cover the guilt that plagued his thoughts, but the boy seemed to sense it on him.

"Olyvar I beg you to reconsider, I'd rather you leading my troops than spending eternity behind the sept. You're a good man there is no reason we should fight, this will only end in sorrow, if not for you then consider your son." Olyvar struck an imposing figure, but Beric saw the flicker of hesitation behind the eyes, and the small light of hope blossomed in his chest.

"I'm doing this for my son." The smile was bitter, and full of mirth. "Besides I've been told you're no slouch, but I have no intention of losing this fight. I hear the Dayne girl has changed the odds to five to one in my favor. She doesn't seem to have much faith in you, for a ward you grew up with. Besides, I keep the old gods, you were barely a child when we finally pushed back the others, and the Kingslayer destroyed the night king, you're a summer child with summer gods." Olyvar searched for some sign that he'd knocked the lordling off balance, but Beric's shoulders fell ever so slightly.

"We stand together, those are our words." Beric laughed a dark sound of stones hitting each other, and the sudden shift in his attitude set Olyvar's nerves on edge, he could see it written on the older man's face. "You wouldn't guess it from these last few years; the brother's couldn't do anything that we couldn't do to ourselves better. It's just us." Beric's eyes fell to Robb, the realization hit his face first, and it took Olyar and the onlookers a moment to grasp what he was getting at. "If you want, I would like to arrange a marriage with some pretty sothorn lady, but I need you to renounce any claim on the twins for you, or any of your children." Olyvar made a noise somewhere between laughing and choking, and he looked close to pulling his sword then and there.

"I am still alive damn you, and you will pay for this outrage." When Beric turned on him Olyvar saw the face of the man that had appeared in the hall, something dark and cold lurked there ready to drown him in his own blood. He'd seen it on the face of the wights, like he was just a fly to be swatted out of the way. Suddenly the red went out of Olyvar's face replaced with a sickly white. Beric's smile was only inward as he felt the warm spread of self-assurance, he had done it, he had gotten Olyvar to beat himself before the bout even started, but the warmth fled quickly he had seen too many people slow down when they thought victory was assured. That's how his father had left him, without jumping the final barrier. By then the boy had returned to Beric spear in hand, and panting just under his breath. The spear was an unwieldy thing just over 8 feet in length, and the point spoke of craftsmanship that couldn't be found in just any blacksmithery. The wood was white as snow, and he saw Olyvar recognize the material.

"A cold comfort that this far south you'd find a small piece of your gods to see you off." Beric turned took the helmet from his squire's hand, and made his way to the center of the field. He turned in a circle the sun glinted off his thin armor that only covered his chest, making a show of turning to his mother, and kneeling. The world seemed to grow smaller as Beric focused on slowing his breath to a crawl, the helmet narrowed his peripheral. Even though he couldn't see her Rae's voice cut through the quiet rustle of the crowd that was forming around the grassy clearing.

"My lord would you like my favor." Despite himself the smile came unbidden to his lips, "Anything that would help you win I have five dragons on you after all." Beric tried as hard as he could to suppress a laugh, but the effort proved futile as she finished. "And I'll kill you myself if you lose this."

It took Olyvar a few more minutes to equip the last few pieces of his unadorned plate, and by the time he reached the center of the field the crowd had taken seats at the benches the servants had brought out that morning, the dark wood seemed at odds with the bright sun bleached dirt that peaked out from the tufts of glass that covered most of the field. The lady Maryan Frey had a small stage assembled at one end of the field to look over the arena such as it was. When finally Olyvar kneeled to her tightness grasped her throat, Beric could see her struggling to find the words, and after a moment too long the whispers and looks of pity began shooting her way. No one wanted to start something that could end in their child's death, but somewhere deep down she found the courage.

"Begin." She didn't even sit down as the word pushed its way into the silence. The two men turned to each other, and tapped weapons together spear point to the point of Olyvar's sword. Beric fell to a low stance, and immediately started falling back. He's stronger, he's faster, and he's more experienced, keep him off balance, and use your reach to your advantage. The bigger man pressed the opening matching him step for step the axe came down in an arc onto the shield; it was a powerful blow that almost knocked Beric out of his stance. With the axe coming back from the shield the spear burst with blinding speed at the exposed joint just under the shoulder, the older man grunted, and turned the point glancing of the breastplate skidded to a halt as Beric pushed with his shield breaking the engagement. His long stride carried him away from the wicked edge of his axe, but the older man was too tricky as Beric took his time backing up the man came down with all his weight where the long spear still lingered. Beric saw the action moments before he made the strike, time slowed to a crawl as he considered his options, the smart side of him screamed to fall back more maybe abandon the spear to gain some extra time, he was after all equipped with a small sword as a backup. As Beric thought of this another image appeared just behind his eyes, he saw Black Peter shove the knife into Lady Wyldes back, the sound of blade crunching solidly against her ribs, and he felt something deeper grip him. He brought the spear up as if to counter the blow, and ran directly into the larger man. It wasn't enough to stop the downward strike, but as the spear split down the middle the knife came up, and found the flesh of Olyvar's sword arm just above the elbow. The man roared angrily as the axe clattered he turned suddenly bringing his arms around taking the knife with him, Beric scrambled under the wild blow, and came up with a double handed strike under the chin. The blow sent the bigger man sprawling backwards, and the blow took him with such force it sent the helmet flying backwards. To his credit he recovers remarkably quickly for someone of his years, Beric for all his blows was looking worse off weaponless, shiedless, and on his knees. Olyvar laughed a full bodied laugh as he pulled a small dagger out of his belt.

"You fought bravely; I will carry these scars for the rest of my life. Yield or die." The bigger man kept a wary distance as he waited for the tall lord Frey's response. Beric shrugged with what little strength remained in his arms.

"I suppose I die like a man, I will leave my mark on this world or I will die bloody. I suppose it will be the latter. Today we stand alone." Olyvar laughed at the play on the Frey words. The loud squish of his boots were the only sounds save for Raesel fighting against Aemon Charlton and Dedrike Herenford to get to the field, they seemed to want to intervene themselves to Beric's pleasure. Beric tried his hardest to look defeated as he came up to his feet, the big man began running in a bull charge, the timing was supreme just before the blade reached his chest Beric put all his weight behind a fist that caught his opponent's shoulder. Olyvar seemed to have expected something of the sort as he let it hit him bringing the knife up with his offhand, the knife whistled then clanged loudly against the edge of Beric's helmet and eye guard. Raesel yelled, he saw his mother over the man's shoulder sob quietly, and somewhere behind him the cheer of a boy, that must have been Robb Frey. His eye met Olyvar's shocked gaze as he looked down at the broken piece of weirwood as it slid deep into the shoulder joint toward his heart, and for a moment only they knew like lovers whispering in the bed, a secret they shared. When his mouth opened to laugh he coughed up a large wet mess of blood, they were now kneeling on the cracked dirt staring into each other, and when Olyvar's body hit the ground a murmur of confusion ran through the crowd. It took what little strength for Beric to stand up, when the helmet came off a wave of disgust rolled through the crowd, he felt his fingers reach up to where his left eye had been. Then another feeling tugging at his pants, he looked to where the big man was crumpled on the ground. He knew what he had to do in that moment, it sickened him, he felt his heart turn over, and felt the sun beating down on his sweat covered brow. 'To be king' his voice was barely a whisper as he leaned down to pick up the helmet by the flared neck guard, and the whisper came again as he turned over Olyvar 'I will be king'. 'To inspire fear and respect' Beric straddled the man's chest and held the helmet above his head 'they will remember my name'. An animalistic rage consumed his body as the helmet crunched into the big man's face for the first time, when the helmet came down again he heard Bracken gasp aghast this one broke his cheekbone, and nearly popped out his eye. The third did pop out his eye, the fourth found his mouth and knocked the teeth back into the wolf's muzzle, the fifth nearly missed and the small point at the top of the helmet caught the ear ripping it clean in half. The sixth was not nearly kind as it found the jaw unhinging it in an instant, and the seventh knocked the jaw clean. There were six more blows before the young Herenford dragged him off, and then the boy was on him punching vainly against the studded leather before he was dragged off by Lord Bracken.

"An eye for a title, that seems fair, set me down." Dedrike ignored him, and started dragging him toward the twins. "I have to say something; you will help me stand bannerman." Beric tried his best to keep his voice even, and Dedrike paused in response his fist grasped tighter against the fabric of his vest. They waddled back to the platform where his mother waited, her face spoke of indifference but the tears flowed freely and fell down her cheeks staining the wood beneath her. Beric nodded in place of a bow and turned to the crowd of knights and lords, he saw second sons and eldest daughters, he saw his bannermen. The dragon wolf sat high in his chair, the court played at being important in king's landing , and even the river lord did not dain to come, the name of Frey was worth less than dirt, and he did not blame them he saw the blood shed same as them. They will regret not coming here, they will regret not seeing the birth of a king, that I swear with my blood. The eyes were on him, he had their attention, they will dream my dream he assured himself.

"Look at us, the unloved, the unfavored, bloodied, and the young. We are the lords of the riverlands, but they spit in our direction. They look at my twins and laugh behind their hands; I was the forty-fifth in line to these halls. We are the youngest sons to houses men like Edmure Tully will never remember, and I am fed up with it, sitting idly under the thumb of that mad child. They will remember us if I have to write it on the histories with the blood of my enemies, they will know each and every one of us as heroes, as kings. The long night is ended the sun is rising again I declare this will be the second age of heroes. A time that you or I can take what we want so long as we are clever, and true. I will tell you what I want. I want it all, everything the light touches, I will rule it all. I can only promise you one thing, more. More than you own, more than you dared to dream, I will dream for you, I will give you the mind to dream and swords to fight for it. You will give me your blood and we shall tear down the walls. We shall build a staircase of everyone's bones if that's what it will take. I ask all of you, here and now will you come with me, will you bask in the sun with me even if we have to cut through the bodies of a thousand men, of a hundred thousand." Beric's eye had taken on a frantic look the blue seemed to gleam purple, the smile on his face stretched from ear to ear and the teeth sparkled red with blood. Dedrike was the first to kneel, but it spread quickly from man to man, and then the women, a few removed themselves from the situation, and finally when Bracken knelt last the boy Robb was revealed. "They will hear our name's and tremble, but never again will they rape our lands." A cheer as they began to rise. "Never again will they harass the smallfolk of the riverland." another cheer. "We will carve our mark into this world." This cheer was hungrier than the previous he could tell. "We will tear the lions from their rock, and they will see their streets run with blood, and gold." The men who lived around the trident despised the Lannisters, Tywin's plunder of the riverlands meant they had all nearly starved; each man had lost a lover or a mother. Each woman had lost a babe, and each child a parent, the cheer was deafening. "I have no dragons, no direwolf, no sword of legend, people like us would never possess such things, I was no prophecy, and no bard knows my name. They will though with our minds and our will, we will burn our names into the very land which we stand." The roar was so loud that Beric's throbbing head felt like it might explode. "Tomorrow we will rise, it seems that at some point I've lost an eye, if you see it on the ground let me know, it will be the one looking to the horizon." The ones with tougher stomachs laughed loudly, but others looked a little green at the jest. Beric allowed himself a smile, and wondered if he'd gone too far with that, but earlier he loudly announced treason so maybe it wasn't the worst thing he'd said. "Greyjoy help me to the maester will you, unless you'd like to go home." The squire shook his head.

"Your dream is my dream." For the first time since he'd arrived Victarrion smiled.