*Again, the second POV in this chapter was amongst my favorite parts to write in this story so far!

300 AC

Ser Barristan Selmy

They had left Starpike less than a sennight ago. As per his orders, his host marched directly west, for Horn Hill. Ser Barristan hoped that Randyll Tarly was not so foolish as Titus Peake. For if he was, unlike Titus Peake, Ser Barristan knew that Randyll Tarly could be a true difficulty. Unlike the strong-willed but incompetent Titus Peake, Randyll Tarly was a man of war.

He had beaten Robert's force, even though he had been outnumbered greatly. So Ser Barristan could not even say he had numbers on his side.

But only this morning, has his host crossed the border into Tarly territory.

It was sundown now. They could reach Horn Hill on the 'morrow. For now, he ordered the host to make camp. They had not needed a council-of-war as he along with the other commanders had discussed while on the march. So instead, he found himself around the large fire at the center of the camp.

With him were of course Lords Selmy and Caron. Along with Ser Rolland, Ser Lorens, and some other minor commanders.

His distant nephew was in conversation with his heir, so Ser Barristan had not wanted to interfere with any possible lessons being taught. So instead, he turned to the other major lord accompanying him.

"Lord Caron."

"Lord Commander?"

"Apologies if this brings bad memories…but this war has already seen the decline of many a storied houses."

"…aye?"

"So much so that I am curious. You are the only person to hold the name of 'Caron,' have you plans of forwarding your name?"

Lord Caron blinked at him. He took a moment to think on it.

"Truly, aye, I do think of it. However, I have already written in my will that should I die without any heirs born of mine own seed, that I request that Rolland here, be legitimized and carry on the name." The Lord of Nightsong patted the shoulder of his baseborn brother.

"I see. That being said, you two are both at war. Do you have any contingencies?"

"Unfortunately, no. Unlike the situation regarding the Lady Brienne, my father nor his father before him had any long distant family that sired potential heirs. Aye, I am the only person to hold the Caron name, but Rolland is the only other person to carry the blood."

"This is most unfortunate. If you wish, I can speak to His Grace about organizing a betrothal for you?"

"I thank you for your consideration Ser Barristan. However, for the time being, I plan on marrying after this fiasco. However-" He looked over to his brother. "-should I pass on this campaign, I request that you immediately recall Rolland from any fighting. He should be safe."

Ser Rolland looked to argue, but before he could, Ser Barristan responded.

"Consider it done."

At that point, his distant family seemed to have concluded their little talk. "Ser Lorens, I must ask, 'tis only my duty as your elder."

Ser Lorens seemed to widen his eyes at the sudden attention.

"Has any lady caught your eye?" To the smallfolk he was the honorable Kingsguard, but he still enjoyed the campfire talk of men…it reminded him of better days.

The young man blushed deeply. Much to the amusement of the surrounding men.

"Well…I…well Lady Marissa caught my eye…" He reddened.

"Lady Marissa? I don't not recall the name."

"Lady Marissa is the eldest of Lord Ewyn Cafferen. I visited Fawnton with father many moons ago. I think she looked beautiful."

"Aye? Well, I am sure after this debacle is cleared up, Lord Cafferen would be honored to have you as a goodson."

"I hope so as well. He is a genial fellow. Though he…"

"He…what?"

"I got the impression that he still harbored feelings of anger over the death of his father, Lord Jon Cafferen during the Rebellion."

"Ah. I see. Regardless, I am sure that he would be open to such a match. After all, you both come from marcher lords, and you both share borders."

"Aye, one can only hope."

And so, that is how the evening progressed. Talk of family, of stories, of laughter and of sadness, and much more. It had been an hour or so after the sun had fallen, and the moon had arose, that they decided to call it a night. They had a big day ahead of them tomorrow.

The host had just arrived before a large ridge. On the other side was the castle of Horn Hill. But at the moment, Ser Barristan was speaking to an outrider that had ridden back some time ago.

"Are you sure you didn't see any host?" The outrider had reported that the field in front of Horn Hill looked like it had just seen battle. Bodies all over the place, fires, arrows, and more.

"Aye, Ser Barristan."

"Very well." He waved him off.

Snapping his reins, Ser Barristan urged his mount on. The lords and mounted soldiers galloped after him. Reaching the top of the hill, he saw first-hand of what the soldier spoke of. Weapons and armor and bodies strewn about the land. Moans from dying men, fires and tents.

"What in the seven hells happened here?" Ser Rolland wondered aloud.

Ser Barristan scanned the field. It appeared to be mostly made of one party. Meaning that they lost or were caught by surprise.

"There!" Ser Lorens exclaimed, his finger pointing to banners that were broken on the field.

"Good eyes lad."

"I see the three castles of House Peake; I see three thunderbolts of House Leygood…and I see the blue field of House Wold." Lord Caron reported.

"Well, it seems we found the missing host from Starpike." Ser Rolland japed.

"Yes…but what happened."

"Ser! Riders incoming!" Ser Lorens pointed to a group of horsemen galloping straight for them.

"Ready men! We know not their intentions yet!" Lord Selmy ordered.

Ser Barristan could hear the ring of swords leaving their scabbards.

When they were close enough, the lead rider called out. "Is that the cloak of a Kingsguard?!"

"Aye! and who do you speak for?"

"Good ser! I am an outrider for Lord Tarly, meant to keep any more hosts from sneaking up upon the castle."

"Stand down. Take me to Lord Tarly now."

The outriders nodded before turning and snapping their reins. Many of the mounted soldiers stayed behind but about two score kept riding with them.

It took a few minutes, but he knew it, their party was past the gates of Horn Hill, and were circling the main yard of the castle. A bald man, with a beard, and a massive greatsword strapped to his back approached.

"Ser Barristan Selmy."

"Lord Tarly, a pleasure as always. What happened here? Why does it look like a battle took place?"

"Because there was one Lord Commander. About a sennight ago, a guard from a small village rode here warning of a host coming. Two days later, a host of several thousand came over the hill that you yourself came from."

"We saw the banners while riding here. Titus Peake, who has been attainted from his seat, and his two vassals. Why would they march on you?"

"Many fortnights ago, many houses in the Reach received ravens from Tywin Lannister. Promising gold and the rule of Highgarden in support of overthrowing the Tyrells."

"I assume you refused the offer?"

"A tempting one, especially for the greedy lords of the Reach, but I trust Tywin Lannister as much as I trust a snake not to bite me. It appears his allies did not take kindly to my refusal."

"Well, it certainly speaks to your character, to stand by your liege lord."

"That fat oaf? I didn't do it for him. He is useless, much like he has been for decades. I did this for mine own house, and for the future of House Tyrell. Willas Tyrell will be a good lord."

"I see. In the meantime, do you have any news about the state of the realm? We have been at march for fortnights."

"Aye, perhaps you have heard, but a host of many thousands of Westermen marched down the Ocean Road. They took Old Oak by surprise. Houses Stackhouse, Dunn, Bridges, Wold, Leygood, Peake, and Florent have all openly revolted."

Ser Barristan was surprised at the amount of rebel lords. And they offered a significant opposition too. Those houses together, could offer close to twenty thousand men, not mentioning the host of Westermen.

"Is that all?"

"Nay. It appears Robb Stark and his brother, Edwyle Stark, have tied up Tywin's campaign in the Riverlands. Robb Stark took Harrenhal back from the Westermen, and Edwyle Stark has been able to hit the Old Lion's supply trains for moons."

"This is desperation. Tywin directed these houses to rebel just to tie up His Grace's men."

Lord Tarly nodded. "I agree ser. This reeks of backhand desperation and politicking."

"Very well. Regardless, I have my orders Lord Tarly. If you would be so kind to have rooms prepared for me and my council. Additionally, we shall need your men when we set off in some day to march north to Highgarden."

"I will see it done Lord Commander. I shall lead the men of my land. My son and heir, Dickon, shall remain here to rule in my stead."

"I understand…forgive me my lord…but I thought you had another son, and older son."

"Aye, I did." It seemed he did not wish to go further into details.

As his party began to dismount in earnest, he and Lord Tarly walked further into the castle. "Though we had forewarning, we could still not raise our entire host. On my word, my son, Dickon fled Horn Hill to ride for all our demesne west of here, to raise a secondary host. This host was led by the nephew of Lord Sylas Hunt, Ser Hyle Hunt. When we were put under siege, they were able to attack them from the rear, as I sent the host we had through the gates to attack them from the front. We crushed them together."

"Any notable hostages?"

"Aye. Ser Amaury Wold, Ser Felwood Leygood, and Ser Darren Leygood all rot in my dungeons at the moment. Ser Wilbert Wold died on the field of battle."

"I see much of their host has been destroyed."

"Aye, I ensured it. Worry not ser, I'll have four thousand men ready to march with you. Give me a sennight."

"Only a sennight?"

"The battle only ended two days ago. Much of the host has already been raised."

"Very well. Come the sennight, we march however."

"Of course. Oh, I nearly forgot. Word reached us here in Horn Hill; His Grace has already taken Ashford and the last word we received was that his host was marching on Cider Hall."

"Good to hear, many thank my lord."

The Lord of Horn Hill nodded before leaving to finish his work. Ser Barristan let out a sigh of relief. Come a couple of days, and he'd have a force over fifteen thousand strong behind him. Not an insignificant amount.

He could only hope it was enough.

Brienne of Tarth

She had reached a position that no woman ever had. She was the first woman to ever be a member of the fabled Kingsguard. It was a life that possessed a dichotomy.

On one hand, she expected the mass of ridicule and jeering from those lesser men. Yet on the other, she received unexpected knowledge of the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

Ser Preston Greenfield insulted her every chance he got. Until even the King grew tired of the talk and ordered them to spar. Ser Preston had not since spoke to her since she sent him falling over his own ass.

Ser Arys Oakheart was respectful and less rude, though she would oft note how he would look at her oddly, as if still trying to understand her.

Ser Guyard Morrigen seemed to not even notice that she wasn't a man. A cheery man, Ser Guyard was always known for his song and fair attitude. He had actually flirted with her at one point. She had denied him with a blush but grew surprised when she saw him flirt with literally every single woman in the immediate vicinity. He seemed to know his vows, but it was a game to him.

She had yet to meet Ser Mandon Moore, still in the capital. Ser Barristan was a great Lord Commander…for the two days she had been around him.

But 'twas the King who surprised her the most. As the Kingsguard, she and her sworn brothers were those closest to the king, ergo the need to swear to keep silent about matters they hear.

It was not until her first nighttime shift that she heard. No whores had joined their host yet at the moment, and the king had stumbled back into the tent from yet another minor feast in some tent or another.

As she heard the great beast of a man breathe heavily, no doubt trying to fall asleep, she swear she heard him whisper a name just as he fell asleep. She couldn't be sure of course, but she heard him whisper 'Lyanna.'

No doubt there were those whose would remark about great hypocrisy, a king laying with whores when still thinking of a long-lost love.

But she was not such a person.

She did not remark.

She was a Kingsguard; and a Kingsguard kept their vows.

The more the host marched, the more it took form. Camp followers grew, traveling merchants made coin, and green boys became men.

Their first engagement was at Ashford Meadows before the castle of Ashford. The King had grumbled the day before. She knew from stories of her father that Robert Baratheon's only defeat in the Rebellion was at Ashford.

The Battle of Ashford Meadows was much different from the one many decades prior. The royal force caught the middling amount of Reachmen by surprise. Of the seemingly six thousand men roughly, about half were killed before they made a hasty retreat.

The traitor leaders; Lord Reynard Dunn of Whitegrove, his son and heir Ser Ossifer Dunn. Ser Rayford Stackhouse, second son of Lord Gerold Stackhouse, and Ser Erren Florent.

The names were confusing as they all came from families all over the Reach, it appeared that the host they faced was actually only a small band, raised by the second sons and more minor lords that rebelled.

Unfortunately, they were not able to capture or slay any of the leaders. Their own force faced a number of casualties. The King's younger brother, Lord Renly Baratheon had taken an arrow in the shoulder while sitting atop his mount. After examination, it appeared to be naught but a minor wound, but it still sent the lord off his horse from the force.

The cousin and heir of Lord Ralph Buckler, Ser Brus Buckler, also received a minor injury. He had taken a blade slash right above the eye. Due to the amount of veins, there was quite amount of blood. Fortunately, it was more an appearance than anything, he'd be right within a couple of days.

The more serious injury had been her sworn brother; Ser Preston Greenfield. Whether knowingly or unknowingly, the knight had gotten between a rebel and the King just in time to take the swing of his axe. He was still in the healer's tent, a large wound in his side. The knight that had done it had his skull crushed by the King's hammer.

They faced one sad death, however. The head of House Penrose, Lord Edmyn Penrose had volunteered to lead the van at the start of the battle. His brother, Ser Cortnay was serving as the castellan of Storm's End and the King readily granted the request. But like the fortunes of war are fickle, so too are lives. The Lord of Parchments fell in a death of blades, overrun before the main force could reach the lines from charging.

Both the King and the Lord of Storm's End had been greatly saddened at his death. Though a relatively minor lord, the current House of Penrose had very close relationships with the Baratheons.

Of their force of twenty thousand men, they lost less than a thousand.

The host had reached Cider Hall some days later. Not wishing to become traitors, House Fossoway of Cider Hall quickly bent to the King. Additionally, Lord Balon Fossoway lent his entire family along with their host to the King's.

The King had Ser Arys take the second son, Tanton, as a squire. The fourth son, Edwyd, had unusually strapped himself to her own hip, following her around everywhere.

The first and third sons; Bordric and Bryan, were formally leading their House's host, though due to their age, true command was with their uncle, Ser Samwell Fossoway. His bastard son Franklyn was in exile in Essos.

Brienne was a warrior, no doubt. But her martial abilities laid in combat, much more than larger strategy. She wouldn't deny it; better to know yourself as best as others believe they know you. But to her, she felt that this entire debacle, this war…it had to be close to finishing.

Yes the Reach was large and wealthy, yet the true power behind the rebels was Tywin Lannister, and yet the scions of House Stark seemed to be slowly winning against him. Once…if, Tywin Lannister was defeated, it was only a matter of time until the Reach calmed.

Or so she had thought.

"Brienne!"

She had to shake herself to attention. So long had she been on guard duty led her to almost forget about the sounds of voices. Yet her liege, Robert I Baratheon had called her. Turning, she entered the room.

As she entered, she observed the king sitting on the edge of the bed. Bloated as the man was, he was thinner than he had been when she first met him. His beard, still wiry and wild, was trimmed. Not in length, but in formation; the sides were shortened just a tad. Just so he wouldn't look like some barbarian.

But there was a look in his eyes, one that was a cross between sadness and…acceptance?

"Your Grace?"

He roughly gestured to a chair beside the bed. "Sit."

"Your Grace?"

"Sit!" Not shouting but raising his voice.

Adjusting her scabbard so as to sit more comfortably, Brienne sat in the chair. Only a small distance from the King.

"Here. Drink." He handed her a large mug of what looked like ale.

"Your Grace, I mustn't. I need to be on alert to guard you."

"Would you?"

"Your Grace?" She looked at him alarmed. His eyes were now alert, but also filled with self-pity…unusual to see in a man like Robert Baratheon.

"Would you protect me? Over half of my original Kingsguard knowingly committed treason against me. I've no doubt that if that Lion Bitch told them to, they'd kill me in my sleep."

"I am not Meryn Trant. I am not Jaime Lannister. I am the daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth. I hold to my oaths."

The King was silent as he gazed at her with a hard stare. After a few moments, she worried that she'd overstepped her words, until King Robert visibly relaxed and let out a chuckle.

"Well fuck me with a broom lass, if you'd been born with a cock, I'd've called you 'Ned Stark,' you two and your fucking honor."

"Your Grace?" She was unsure how to respond to such a statement. But she felt it best to simply let the King talk.

"Oh Ned. You ever meet the man?" He looked at her curiously.

"No. I've not had the pleasure to meet Lord Stark."

"You would like him…he'd sure as hell like you. You know the story of us?"

"Yes, Your Grace. You two were raised as wards under Lord Arryn in the Eyrie, from my understanding."

"Aye, you have the truth of it. But Ned…Ned was always the best between us. He always paid attention to lessons more than me. Always paid more attention to the Master-at-Arms than I. Always was more honorable than the fucking Seven themselves." He grumbled out.

Brienne was sure that the King was still slightly drunk. He was looser than she'd seen him before.

"…I'm sure that Your Grace was just as good a young man." Brienne responded neutrally.

But it was obvious quickly, that it was the wrong thing to say. The King snapped to her faster than she thought possible. "Not you!" He growled. "Not you too. I've been surrounded by snakes and liars for twenty damned years! I'll not have you begin lying to me as well."

"Apologies Your Grace."

She heard him moan. "Oh drop the 'Your Grace' shite. It is grating on the ears."

"It would be inappropriate Your Grace."

"Oh fuck you. Just like that goddamned idiot Ned."

Brienne spoke before she realized she opened her mouth. "You speak of your friend like that?"

As soon as she realized what she had said, she snapped shut, and her eyes went wide as she stared at the King, who in turn stared at her too.

"Apologies Your Grace! I never meant to-"

"Stop lassie. 'Tis the first time someone's spoken to me like that as they should."

"Still, apologies."

"Have them. Ned was always better than I. Once…" The King stopped for a moment, deep in thought. "…once, I had stumbled into the kitchens of the Eyrie. It was late morning and my head hurt like a bitch. As I grabbed a loaf of bread from a cupboard, I overheard two servants speak. They said; 'Have you seen Eddard Stark, the one from the North? He is so plain, isn't he? Much worse on the eyes than that Robert fellow." He let out a sigh. "In that moment, I felt so much rage against them, I almost threw them out of the Moon Door myself."

"What happened?"

"I almost did…but then I thought of what Ned would do."

"What would the Lord Stark do?"

"Ned…it wasn't until that moment that I realized what Ned went through, being the second son. Women may think him plain, but to me, he is the best man in the world."

They fell into a silence once more until the King began again.

"I didn't want it, did you know?"

"Your Grace? Didn't want what?"

"That chair! That damnable iron chair covered in the filth of dragons!"

"Truly?"

"Aye. I just wanted Lyanna back. My dear, dear Lyanna. When King's Landing was taken, everyone turned to me. It was all so much at the time. Ned had already ridden south to look for Lyanna. Jon Arryn, damn the man, had me take the crown and my life was no longer my own. But Ned? By the gods he would've made a better King! Aye, definitely. He would never want it, but for different reasons than I. I always thought the job boring, but Ned, he never wanted it because of the expectations. And a man who doesn't wish for that power because they fear they'll fail, is the exact right person for the job."

"I see Your Grace." At this point, she was just trying to tire the man out, to let him fall asleep.

"You know, I hear what they say behind my back. I hear the whispers that Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar. I hear them say that Lyanna thought that I didn't truly love her." He said ever so mournfully.

"I…I've heard such things myself."

"Aye, I'm sure you have. But answer me this-" He leaned so far forward she feared he'd fall out of the bed. "-in this sick fucking world of ours; is it better to love the idea of a person, than nothing at all? I loved Lyanna, but perhaps to some, not in the right way, but I would've tried. Gods know we only knew each other for so long! We had so long to learn to love! I would've given her everything! I would've, I would've, I would've…" His voice fell off weakly.

Brienne was shocked. She had heard that Robert Baratheon was a drunken oaf. But perhaps there was a side to him that only very few had seen.

But as she paid more attention, she realized that the King's eyes were beginning to droop. No doubt the signs of imminent sleep.

"Lyanna? Lyanna?" She saw him reach his hand up as he fell over on the mattress, in the same, soft voice, that she'd heard previously.

She stood to make way for the entrance of the room. She turned just before she stepped out.

"Sleep well, Your Grace."

She knew that he never heard her.

But gods had her mind been reeling from the conversation.

*Keep updated. The next few chapters are going to be a tad shorter, and more connected; better to be read altogether instead of one chapter one week, and another the next. This particular story WILL end in about ten chapters, most likely less. But...I already have a direct sequel planned and a rough story formed already.