Daniel: In canon, Melisandre doesn't go to a cave to kill Renly, but she does to kill Cortnay Penrose.
Shortmike: Nothing except 15,000 Reachers...
Ona: Doran is very weird.
7am: Catelyn is flawed and a bad parent but doesn't deserve the complete bashing she gets in a lot of fics.
Slycerr: It's more so that the reader has a sense of what's going through his mind without giving him a POV.
silentmayhem: Would they?
DCosmic: Cletus is a boy, typo.
Guest: Butterflies are going to prevent a lot of what you're thinking from happening. The Olyvar and Qoren story is foreshadowing.
ATP: Easy SI invention tbh, everyone has their own version. No need to be a genius for that.
Trumpasaurus: Oh boy do I have news for you.
Archibald
"Got everything ready, Arch?"
The voice came from Quentyn, who'd barely woken up, it had seemed. His hair was completely disheveled as he tried to flatten it with water and spit, and his eyes were tired with small rings forming around them.
He couldn't blame him completely, it was still early, and the sun had yet to rise upon Storm's End.
He, on the other hand, was completely ready and had been for some time. He'd gone to bed early the previous night, expecting nothing to happen since the Reachers were to give battle at dawn.
"I have, Quentyn, but I still do not understand why we didn't leave during the night."
The prince rubbed his eyelids and yawned, adjusting the sword at his hip, as well as letting his frog rest on his shoulder.
"Because we'd be seen as traitors and untrustworthy. The Reachers had us under guard, and it's unlikely we'd have been able to escape." The prince said between stretches. "And what of the men we left behind at Bitterbridge? We barely have eighty men here. What would happen to them if we'd just left them? I couldn't gamble away their lives."
The prince stood still for a moment and shrugged.
"And besides." He added. "I've got nothing to hide. We haven't acted in any way that would offend Renly Baratheon or his host."
"You've asked for four of us to come. The stag king gave you only two guards to choose from."
"Well, fuck him." The prince's brows furrowed. "I'll have the final say in how many men I need to ensure my protection."
Arch shrugged. He wasn't going to try and argue with him, more was always good, and the Reachers were getting tiresome and needed a big swig of his hammer in the jaw if he was honest.
Gulian Qorgyle arrived a bit later, tired as well, but in slightly better shape than Quentyn. Lucian Toland with his red hair and golden armor arrived right afterward. Finally, the sand snake appeared from Quentyn's tent with a glass of lemon water, wearing a light suit of armor to which her spear was attached on her back breastplate.
Quentyn had chosen these four, and Arch still couldn't understand why. He was an obvious choice of course, but neither Gulian nor the snake were particularly strong at arms. But once again, thinking was not his stronger suit. Better to just follow what his prince was saying, and it would be for the better.
Still, the prince looked uneasy. His eyes were darting everywhere, as if frantically looking for something or someone. And it certainly wasn't the two men that came to escort them to the king's tent.
"Prince Quentyn." One of them frowned. "His grace said that you could bring two guards, not four."
"Well, Ser Loras. I couldn't care less." Quentyn frowned. "I'm taking these four whether you like it or not. I don't trust you lot as far as I can throw you."
"The feeling is mutual, Dornishman." A man with seven sunflowers on his sigil spat out. "Now come with us with your two sworn swords."
"That's not happening." Quentyn stood his ground. "All of them are coming with me."
"We've got a battle to fight." The Sunflower knight was teaming with rage now. "We don't have time for this!"
"That's funny because I have all the time in the world." Quentyn stood still, inflexible.
"Prince Quentyn." The other knight's frown grew deeper. "You will come with us."
"Is that a threat?" he scoffed. "Are we your prisoners? I will come at his grace's leisure, but he does not get to tell me how many men are needed for my own protection. I shall come with Ser Archibald, Ser Gulian, and Nymeria, or I shan't come at all."
"The Qorgyle boy doesn't know how to hold a sword and your bastard lover is only here to s…" the knight of flowers started.
It wasn't long till Arch had a hand on his hammer. Looking around, he saw that both Gulian and Lucian had their hands on their swords while the snake was grinning from ear to ear, still sipping her water.
Quentyn on the other hand made a gesture for Arch to stand down. Shame, the Tyrell boy needed to be taught some manners, and what better way to do that than to cave his chest in with his hammer?
"Careful Ser Loras." Quentyn warned, interrupting the Tyrell boy. "You have such a pretty face; it would be a shame if I'd have to shove my fist into it.
Either I come with my four guards, or I don't come at all."
The two Rainbow guard knights looked at each other. Right now, they were outnumbered, and their opponent was doggedly standing his ground.
"Ser Emmon." The Tyrell boy finally sighed. "Go get four men from your retinue, we'll be six guarding these ones."
Ser Emmon looked at Ser Loras, confused, but one look from the knight of Flowers sent him running. Soon enough, the Reacher came back with a few men, and suddenly, Quentyn was willing to come at a much more rapid pace.
"Why did you insist on the four guards?" Lucian Toland asked.
"I don't trust Renly or the Reachers to not try something stupid when I've got my guard down," Quentyn replied. "I'd rather have people I trust to watch my back, and two just wasn't enough."
If Lucian wasn't convinced by the explanation, he didn't show it, and the group made their way to Renly's tent without further incident, still flanked by Ser Loras, Ser Emmon, and the four Reacher knights.
"Ser Loras, Ser Emmon!" A surprised Renly was waiting for them. "You are late!"
"I'm sorry, your grace." Ser Loras apologized. "We were held up by the Dornish. Prince Quentyn wanted a stronger escort and I had to get more men to ensure that they do not try and stab us in the back."
"A skilled knight such as you? I believe you could take on seven Dornishmen on your own, Ser Loras." Renly waved him off, while Ser Loras stood proudly. "It is no matter. The prince wishes to be well-protected and I cannot blame him."
Seven dornishmen? Arch resisted the urge to laugh. One swing of his hammer and both Reachers would be lying broken on the ground.
Arch also noted the presence of several Reach commanders, as well as that of Lady Catelyn Stark, who had spent the night praying, or so she had told him. An unusual presence to be sure, but Arch paid it no mind. His was more focused on the men around the prince.
The men quickly delved into discussion about the future battle, the Siege of Storm's End, and the case of Ser Barristan, who had disappeared from the capital, and hadn't defected to Renly or Robb, which only left Stannis.
The commanders quickly left the tent, leaving the king to don his armor, helped by the lady-knight. Still, though, Ser Loras and Ser Emmon refused to budge, and neither did the six Reacher knights.
Lady Catelyn was the first to move, but it was Renly that spoke first.
"Well, Prince Quentyn, what is the matter with your little agreements with Stannis?" the king said, joyfully.
"Nothing of your concern, your grace." The prince shrugged, but his voice cracked ever so slightly, his eyes still darting around the tent. "We had trade agreements with Dragonstone before this war even started."
"Dragonstone?" Renly scoffed. "What could possibly be of value to you on Dragonstone?"
"Obsidian and Dragonbone." Quentyn answered honestly.
"Obsidian and Dragonbone?" Renly scoffed. "One is useless and the other is only used for decorations and those who long for the days where the dragons ruled the skies. A time that has passed for many years."
"They both have their uses." Quentyn shrugged.
"And you didn't plan on telling me?"
"Why should I? Who we trade with is of our concern only. We import grain from the Reach, and we buy timber from the North as well. It isn't like we are funneling gold into Stannis for the sole purpose of funding his efforts against you, your grace. We have traded before the war, and it is likely that we will trade after it, too. Your brother is not the only one benefitting from our trade. Are we free to leave?"
"I told you that you shall stay and watch what befalls traitors."
"Are we your prisoners, then?" Ser Gulian asked. "We are envoys, and as such should not be treated as belligerents in a conflict, or as hostages, as per the code of honor that you Reachers love to follow. We are free to go where we please."
"And you shall!" Renly exclaimed. "But only after you have witnessed what I shall do to Stannis."
Quentyn made to speak again, but Renly ignored him and turned to Lady Catelyn.
"Say your say, Lady Stark."
Suddenly, everyone in the room froze. There was something wrong, like a cold air rushing through the tent. And suddenly, something horrifying appeared in front of Arch. A shadow. With a massive blade. And it was staring.
It took half a second for Arch to realize that the shadow was staring at Quentyn's frog. The frog had jumped from Quentyn's shoulders and made its way on the ground towards the shadow, looking at it dead in the eyes.
Suddenly, Arch heard a guttural screech. Something of the likes he hadn't heard before, that shook him to the bone. One of pure terror. The shadow lifted its blade, and every person in the room started unsheathing theirs.
But the shadow was faster, and it struck, albeit clumsily.
"YOUR GRACE!" Ser Brienne shouted, shoving Renly to the side.
The Tarth knight barely had time to unsheathe her sword. The shadow blade parted her armor like it was made of silk and struck deep into her heart. The lady-knight coughed blood and fell to the ground with a large thud.
The shadow advanced, clumsily, its face slowly becoming more apparent, and that's when Arch recognized it. It was Stannis.
It shrieked again. Arch wanted to cover his ears, the noise becoming unbearable. This scream was one of pure rage, though, and his hammer was close to being ready to strike, but again, the shadow was faster and struck Renly through his armor. The king fell to the ground.
"NO!" Ser Loras screamed.
But the king wasn't dead. The shadow seemed to understand it, but it became…weary? What in the seven hells was happening? The shadow made to strike again…but he tried striking at Quentyn's frog.
It was Quentyn's turn to panic.
"ACHILLES! MOVE!" Quentyn almost begged, while his companions were just as horrified as him.
The frog didn't do as his master commanded. Instead, it stayed still and croaked once.
The blade came down.
There was a third shriek, even more horrifying than the first two. This time, it didn't seem like a screech of rage or terror, this was a screech of pain. A pain of the like of which he had never heard. No human being could ever scream like this.
The blade came down, and as it hit Quentyn's frog, the shadow withered away, as if broken into a hundred smaller pieces, which faded away into the wind.
By the time he had taken out his hammer, though, the shadow had disappeared, and the frog was still there, unconcerned with anything that was happening around it.
Suddenly, it was chaos. Two more guards entered the room, and saw the carnage. One of the Reacher knights was also on the floor, having fainted, while everyone in attendance was pale, with Lady Catelyn spewing her guts in the corner, watching blood starting to pool around Lady Brienne's body.
Quentyn's eyes darted to the snake, who sent him a reassuring glance, with both of them breathing a sigh of relief.
Ser Loras was the first one to react, rushing to his king's side in tears. Quentyn was quick to follow, with Arch right behind him.
The prince quickly looked down on Renly Baratheon. The king was a mess. His armor had been pierced through and through, and he was losing heaps of blood rapidly.
"He's breathing…" Quentyn whispered to Arch. "He's still alive…we can save him."
Quentyn made to take off his armor and reached in his doublet but Ser Loras quickly drew his sword and pointed it at the prince.
"GET BACK YOU FILTHY DORNISHMAN!" he screamed with tears in his eyes. "YOU WOULD LOOK TO HARM RENLY? YOU WOULD STRIKE HIM WHEN HE IS ALREADY DOWN, YOU SWINE?"
Instinctively, Arch readied his hammer.
"You fool, I'm trying to keep him alive!" Quentyn shouted back. "The love of your life is still alive but he's not going to be for long if you don't let me fucking help him!"
In the meantime, a few men had entered the tent, and looked to Ser Emmon.
The man was also as white as a sheet and kept repeating the same phrase.
"Kinslayer. Kinslayer. Kinslayer."
"Stannis did this!" another man cried out
"Foul magic! Blood magic!" were the words of another
"GULIAN!" Quentyn shouted over the commotion caused by the irruption of more than a few men inside the tent. "GET QYBURN! NOW!"
The heir to Sandstone quickly nodded and rushed out, pushing everyone away whilst he did so. However, Ser Loras still had his sword pointed at Quentyn's face.
"Don't be stupid, Ser Loras." Quentyn begged. "We don't have much time. Help me take off his armor and treat his wound or he's going to bleed out in front of your eyes!"
The Tyrell boy hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, allowing for Nym and Lucian to come closer along with Ser Emmon and a few other lords who had just entered the tent.
Finally, Ser Loras sheathed his sword. Whether he trusted Quentyn or not was irrelevant, Arch thought, he had to save his king first.
The pair quickly took off Renly's armor and vest. And…it was messy to say the least. The king had received a wound in the middle of the chest, and it was gaping on both sides. He was losing a lot of blood.
"Shit…" Quentyn whispered as he pulled out bandages from his doublet.
The prince quickly shoved the bandages on Renly's chest wound and had water from the pint on Renly's table poured all over it. The stink from the rotting flesh made Arch want to look away, but the prince needed him.
"Do we have powder?" Quentyn asked.
"I have some spare." Lucian gave him a few. It wasn't much, not for a wound that size, but it would have to do.
The prince quickly poured the powder over the wound, causing Renly to wince in pain. That was good news. It meant the king was still alive. And it was enough for the prince's maester or healer to arrive.
The old man looked at the king in shock, and he asked:
"What in the seven hells did that?"
"Magic." Arch replied. "A shadowed blade."
"Interesting." The maester showed no emotion and started patching whatever he could. "Are we trying to keep him alive?"
If looks could kill then Loras Tyrell would have ripped that man apart.
"Now is not the time for jests, Qyburn." The prince frowned. "Get to work."
"The wound is deep." The maester sighed.
"Do your best." Quentyn replied, trying to shove Ser Loras off of the king's body.
"Ser Loras!" Quentyn screamed, the Tyrell boy's arms still trying to attach themselves to his king's. "Let Qyburn work. You have done all you could."
"He needs me…" the boy pleaded.
"I agree but he also needs you to let my healer do his work for him to live. Do you hear me, Ser Loras?"
"Y…yes." The boy stammered while several lords were already discussing what happened with Lady Stark and Ser Emmon.
Arch spared a look for Ser Brienne, whose body was attended to by several Stormlanders. Unfortunately for her, there was nothing to be done. The blade had slammed into her heart, and she likely had died instantly. Her father would mayhaps take solace in the fact that she likely had died so that her king could live. The Stormlanders were a proud folk after all, and there was no greater death than that to save your king.
Meanwhile Nymeria, Lucian and Gulian approached Quentyn, who was desperately trying to clean Renly's blood off of his hands. The snake rushed to his side and kissed him square on the lips for a brief moment, but with a slight frown on her face.
"I'm glad you're all fine." Quentyn whispered as she broke the short moment.
"And I'm glad you're still in one piece too." the snake nodded. "But what in the seven hells is your frog made of?"
"I…I don't know." Quentyn stammered. "It's just a good luck charm, nothing else…I am as clueless as you are."
The prince picked up his frog, and looked at it. It seemed as if the frog hadn't experienced anything at all, since it was just staring blankly at Quentyn, quickly hopping onto his shoulder.
"It…It just made the shadow shatter like glass…" Lucian gulped. "And that shadow…it had Stannis' face on it. It was him. Don't ask me how, but it was him."
"That red priestess?" Lord Mathis Rowan, who had come to witness the scene, proposed from behind them. "She was at the parlay, and rumors come from the East of such foul magics."
"It has to be." A knight of house Hightower said from behind. "Who else could summon a shadow out of thin air?"
"Heretic, oath-breaker and kinslayer…" a knight of house Morrigen spat out. "I'll be damned if I ever followed such a man."
Arch couldn't agree more with him. Stannis had already admitted to burning down septs, and he had just killed someone with foul magic, and tried to have his brother killed! At the end of the moon's turn, there would be no one, from Sunspear to the Wall, that wouldn't know of what transpired here.
Whether they would believe it…that was another story. Arch could scarcely have believed it if it was told to him in a tale. And yet, he had witnessed it with his own eyes.
A loud groan pulled him out of his reverie, as every single eye in the room turned to the king, who was being helped up by Quentyn's healer. His belly was red with blood and white with bandages, but he was alive. Or at least Arch thought he was.
"I need a bed, milk of the poppy, a dozen bandages and for at least half of the people here to get the fuck out so I can work!" the healer yelled.
Yet, no one heard him, all eyes being on the king's mouth.
The proud stag said nothing for a while, humming what seemed like a children's tune. Then, all of a sudden, his voice cleared and tears rolled down his face.
"Brother." The king's tears flowed freely. "Brother…brother…why?"
The king passed out again, but it seemed as though it was still breathing.
Arch looked around, and all he saw were determined faces.
"There will be battle today." Randyll Tarly said with clenched fists.
"And we shall avenge our king." Mathis Rowan raged.
"DEATH TO THE KINSLAYER!" chanted Richard Morrigen
"DEATH TO THE TRAITOR!" Ser Loras chanted, raising his sword into the air, his voice filled with pure rage.
"DEATH TO THE KINSLAYER! DEATH TO THE TRAITOR! AVENGE RENLY! AVENGE THE CROWNED STAG!" chanted the crowd that had gathered around the tent.
Arch's eyes crossed with that of Lady Catelyn's. Both seemed to be equally amazed and horrified at what was happening. It would seem that there would be a battle today, but it would be very different from the one he had planned on seeing earlier today.
It seemed that there would be little quarter given from Renly's followers.
Far away, a red priestess shook with fear, her face white and her teeth clasping. A would-be king helped her up.
"What is it?" the would-be king asked.
"The Rhoynar…" the red priestess managed to let out, her voice trembling. "The blood of the Rhoynar…"
"What of it?"
"The prince of the Rhoynar…" the red priestess continued. "The prince of the Rhoynar must die."