The King's Protector

"I've seen it again. I swear, it was as real as this damn rain, Bryce," Jon Fossoway complained as they both observed the gloomy streets of the ruins of Harrenhal.

"And I'll tell you again, it's just your imagination. There are no ghosts here. It's probably one of your servants who was wandering around," Bryce Caron replied. The half-ruined towers of the fortress seemed to watch them in the darkness of the night as the rain continued to fall incessantly. It hadn't stopped raining since the day before, priving Bryce from getting any sleep the previous night, and it seemed that night would be no different.

"You don't even believe that yourself. So, why did Lord Bolton leave this place? Not even the cooks stayed, not a single soul. This castle is cursed, and if we stay here, we'll be cursed too. We'll join the ghosts that wander its halls."

"Stop talking nonsense. Would you rather spend the night out in the open? With this rain?"

"What I'd prefer is to be back in New Barrel. We've put Renly on the throne, so why are we still here? It's time to go home."

"You know perfectly well why we can't go back. The war won't end until Stannis is dead or kneels. I don't think any of us will be going home anytime soon, my friend," Bryce replied with a heavy heart.

"It's always the same. I supported Renly from the beginning, but what has it gotten me? I'm nearly bankrupt, and my lands have been plundered by those damn Dornishmen. And does the king reward me in any way? No, he sends me here to continue starving and freezing while Stannis feasts in Riverrun."

"Be careful what you say. Tarly has hanged men for saying much less."

That was their main problem, not ghosts and other hallucinations. Randyll Tarly, the Lord of Horn Hill, had not only taken command of the king's army but had also become the Hand of the King after Mace Tyrell's death. He had also become the cause of all their troubles. Since Renly had given him command, everything had gone from bad to worse. True, they had managed to take King's Landing, but that had been their only success. A success tarnished by the constant desertions and executions during the forced marches to the capital, and although they had temporarily stopped after the victory over the Kingslayer and his forces, they had resumed shortly afterward when supplies began to run critically low.

We should have gone to Oldtown with the rest before marching on the capital. Then we would have defeated Stannis instead of being here, consumed by hunger and fear, Bryce thought, although he knew all too well that such thoughts wouldn't help. What's done is done, and dwelling on it wouldn't change anything. However, that didn't mean they should forget the mistakes of the past. Tarly had to his credit a significant victory and a long list of failures, each more concerning than the last, including the near-death of the king during the assault on King's Landing. King Renly and most of the Reachmen regarded him highly, aye, but his only true achievement was defeating Robert almost twenty years ago. An empty victory.

"We need to get rid of him," Jon Fossoway said after a long pause, barely raising his voice. There didn't seem to be anyone around, but on that dark night, anyone could be listening. And the words he had just spoken were nothing short of treason.

"Have you gone mad? Do you want your head on a spike?"

"No, but I'd prefer that to Bolton flaying me alive. He's still out there, Bryce, lurking in the woods."

He could dismiss the nonsense about ghosts, but this was a different matter entirely. Bryce, like the rest of them, had seen the corpses of Amory Lorch and his men when they had entered Harrenhal. Upon seeing them, he had vomited what little had remained in his stomach that day, and he wasn't the only one. He felt no affection for the knight and those mercenaries, but seeing them there, with their hands and legs nailed to crosses and skinned from neck to toe, still sent shivers down his spine at the mere thought, and that was even though days had passed since then. The scouts they had sent out still hadn't managed to locate the Northern army, but they had discovered flayed corpses in the forests and razed villages.

That was another problem to add to the list. The lands surrounding Harrenhal, once rich and fertile, were now useless. All the nearby villages had been looted, first by Tywin Lannister and then by the Northerners. Almost all the villagers had long since perished or fled to King's Landing or Riverrun, leaving them with nothing but scorched fields and nothing to sustain themselves with.

"Assuming I support your plan... When do you intend to carry it out?" Bryce asked. It was risky, very risky, but perhaps Jon Fossoway was right. Maybe this was their only hope of getting out of this mess.

"Tonight," he said, to Bryce's astonishment.

"Then you've truly gone mad. It's impossible. Something like this will take days, if not weeks of preparation."

"And how long do you think I've been preparing for this? I've been thinking about it since before we took King's Landing. I had planned to do it weeks ago, but ever since Renly named him Hand, he's been completely out of my reach, until now. Mathis Rowan and the king are far away, and he, without allies. We've bribed half of his guards, tonigh he'll be defenseless."

We?

Bryce couldn't snap out of his stupor. Not only had a conspiracy of this magnitude been planned, but it had also gone completely unnoticed by Randyll Tarly and his men. From what he had just said, this had been in the works for months, and he hadn't sensed even the slightest hint that something like this could be brewing.

What a fine member of the Kingsguard I've become. How could I not have noticed? Could someone be planning something similar against Renly?

It was something he would have to find out in the future, although the chances of someone revealing anything to him were very low due to the orange cloak hanging from his shoulders. Besides, he still wasn't entirely sure what would happen if Jon and his conspirators succeeded in their assasination attempt. Would it simply mean a change in the army's leadership, assuming Renly didn't have them executed for treason? Or did they intend not only to eliminate Tarly but also to change sides? Either way, the alternative was to do nothing, and he had already seen where that was leading them.

"Will you join us then?" Fossoway asked. Bryce noticed that his friend still maintained his nervous posture but had gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. So, here's where confidence ends. If I try something, I'm a dead man. Well, I don't plan on dying here, not for Tarly and not for you.

"It doesn't seem like I have many other options. Tell me, what's the plan?"

"I'll take you to the others; it's almost time. Come, follow me." Jon Fossoway led him into the Godswood, where the night and the rain concealed their footsteps, although there wasn't much to hide from. At this hour, most of the knights were in their chambers, and the men were sleeping in their tents, except for the few guards on the charred walls. A row of heads on spikes, in various states of decomposition, adorned the wall, slightly illuminated by torches that the rain and wind hadn't extinguished. If anything went wrong, his head would soon join them.

Once they reached the woods, Bryce spotted about a dozen men gathered beneath the heart tree. However, as he got closer, he noticed dozens more hiding among the bushes and scattered throughout the grove.

Too few. They are far too few. By the Seven, if Tarly discovers us...

"You're late, Fossoway. I thought you were going to leave us hanging. Who have you brought with you?" one of the figures asked as they approached. Bryce didn't recognize the voice at first, but as he got closer, he saw the figure of Ralph Buckler, Lord of Bronzegate, one of the first to swear allegiance to Renly. He wasn't the only one from the Stormlands present. Besides him, Lords Alesander Staedmon and Casper Wylde, as well as Ser Sebastion Errol, the heir to Haystack Hall, were among the conspirators, along with several lords and knights from the Stormlands whom he barely knew. He saw almost no knight or lord from the Reach apart from Fossoway.

"I've persuaded Lord Bryce to join us. Is everything ready?" Jon Fossoway said.

"Yes, and not thanks to you, I must say," Lord Buckler replied grumpily. "With all due respect, Lord Bryce, your support won't change much, though I admit that it will give us more leverage over King Renly after everything is settled. The more of us there are, the more likely he'll accede to our demands."

"Demands? What demands?" one of those present complained. Bryce identified him as Orton Merryweather, finally. The Lord of Longtable had tried to stay behind the walls of his castle, but Lord Tarly had threatened to put him and his entire garrison to the sword if they didn't join his forces, so here he was. "I just want this all to end. That's what you promised me, Buckler. I'm not doing this so that you can sit at Renly's side."

He's only thinking about returning to his castle once and for all. If things go south, he'll be the first to flee.

"Are you sure these two haven't betrayed us?" Lord Wylde asked. "Lord Bryce is from the Rainbow Guard. We could be falling into a trap."

"Stop worrying for once. When we're done with Tarly, all our troubles will be over. We'll march to Riverrun and end this fucking war once and for all. If you're done chattering, follow me. I've made sure no one's guarding the Royal Pyre Tower tonight. It will be a piece of cake.

As Ralph Buckler had stated, when they arrived at the gates of the monstrous Royal Pyre Tower, they found none of the guards who should have been guarding the entrance anywhere. If anyone had seen the group of armed men move from the Godswood to the place where the Lord of Horn Hill had set up his quarters, they certainly hadn't raised the alarm. Or, at least, that seemed to be the case.

"There's no need to spill blood unless necessary. In the morning, we'll explain to the soldiers and the rest of the lords what we've done. They'll understand," Bryce said.

"It's too late for that," Lord Staedmon replied. "If Tarly lives, his men may try to free him, and that will be disastrous for all of us. Don't hesitate now, Lord Caron."

When they burst in, they found the rooms of the tower almost deserted. As expected at this hour of the night, most of the servants and attendants were resting in their chambers, and the few they encountered on their way quickly stepped aside and raised their hands when they saw them with drawn swords.

The first obstacle they encountered on their way was a young soldier with Tarly's red archer embroidered on his doublet, resting on his spear when he saw them climbing the stairs. The boy could barely react and found one of Lord Buckler's men's swords piercing his stomach. He wasn't the only one to lose his life before the majority of the conspiring lords' group reached the Hand of the King's chambers. Three of his men died when a handful of guards who had heard the commotion tried to block their path by creating an improvised barricade on the third floor. Casper Wylde lost his life when one of his soldiers missed his target and hit his lord in the neck. He had futilely tried to contain the blood gushing from his throat before perishing. It wasn't the last one, as at least half a dozen more of the men accompanying him died or suffered serious injuries before reaching the floor where Randyll Tarly's rooms were located.

He doesn't know, Bryce allowed himself to think with some hope as they continued to advance with almost no opposition. The bastard didn't expect anyone to rebel against him.

When they reached the floor where the rooms of the Lord of Harrenhal, who now were occupied by the Hand of the King, were located, they came face to face with the man himself. Surrounded by a dozen of his guards, Randyll Tarly wielded his house's Valyrian steel greatsword with determination as he watched them coldly. He was dressed in his sleepwear, but even so, he seemed more dangerous than the men who accompanied him, whose fear was clearly reflected in their faces.

"So you've changed your cloak, haven't you, traitors?" Randyll Tarly exclaimed as he brandished his large Valyrian steel greatsword, leading his remaining guards. The black blade of the weapon was beautiful and gleamed in the torchlight, but, above all, it inspired fear. The men in the front row took a step back.

"The only traitor here is you. Since Renly gave you command of the army, things have only gone from bad to worse," Lord Buckler said. "If you surrender now, we'll spare your life." Bryce knew all too well that the latter was nothing but a blatant lie, and Randyll didn't buy it either.

"I think I'll decline your offer. But if you surrender, I'll try to convince the king to make your death quick. Maybe even to send you to the Wall, although that's more than you deserve, especially you, Caron. I see you're still wearing the orange cloak Renly gave you. I'll take it off so you stop tarnishing it. A black one will suit you better."

"Renly gave it to me to protect him, and that's what I'm doing. Protecting him from you and your incompetence," Bryce retorted. "We have you cornered, and we greatly outnumber you. Stop talking nonsense."

"Oh, really? Then why am I only seeing a bunch of cowardly rats before me? Come at me if you have even a shred of courage left!" Tarly roared and lunged at them.

Two men were cut down with a single stroke, Heart's Bane cutting through their chainmail-covered chests like butter. Lord Buckler managed to parry a couple of thrusts until his hand couldn't withstand the force of the next blow, and his sword was sent flying. The next slash of the Valyrian steel blade opened him up entirely. Randyll Tarly didn't stop there and chose to make Bryce his next target.

Still shaken from the fierce attack by the Lord of Horn Hill, Bryce was seconds away from losing his head, if he hadn't managed to stop his opponent's strike with his sword almost at the last moment. Tarly continued to attack, delivering blow after blow, but Bryce managed to parry them all, albeit with difficulty. At that moment, the tide of the battle shifted. Unable to quickly defeat his opponent, the Hand of the King found himself surrounded by the enemy soldiers who had previously stepped aside, fearful of his charges. A thrust pierced his unprotected side, as it seemed he hadn't had time to don his armor. Randyll Tarly remained standing, but he was already doomed.

Seeing his vulnerability, several more soldiers and knights pounced on him, and Tarly fell to the ground as nearly a dozen swords pierced his flesh repeatedly. The guards that had been fighting at his side dropped their weapons and begged for mercy as soon as they saw their lord fall.

Bryce sheathed his sword again, somewhat dulled from Randyll Tarly's attacks but still pristine. I haven't killed anyone. I haven't committed treason. Renly can't accuse me of anything; my hands are clean. They would have succeeded without me anyway.

Tarly's corpse was still fresh, but the soldiers who had killed him had already searched his body for anything valuable and then continued their search in his chambers. Jon Fossoway and one of Lord Buckler's knights were arguing over the right to claim Heart's Bane until the knight drew a dagger and quickly stabbed Fossoway in the throat, taking the sword with him as he left the lord bleeding on the ground. The rest paid him no mind, as they were busy sacking what little remained.

"Someone has to restore order," Bryce told Orton Merryweather when he saw him heading downstairs escorted by a couple of his men. His armor was still pristine, not a drop of blood covering it.

"That won't be me. The only ones who wanted the army to stay here were Buckler and Wylde, and I don't think they're in any condition to say anything now, are they? My men and I are going home. I suggest you do the same, Caron. Renly won't be pleased that you killed his Hand."

"I didn't kill Tarly," Bryce Caron replied. "And you're as much guilty of this as I am".

"If that's what you tell yourself, go ahead and beg forgiveness to the king. But rumors may say otherwise. You might as well try your luck with Bolton when he returns. Who knows, maybe he'll reward you." Then he turned around and quickly went downstairs, followed by his guards.

Hours later, Lord Bryce Caron regretted not having taken that advice. One of the men from Horn Hill who had managed to escape from the Royal Pyre gave the alarm in their camp. Tarly's soldiers packed up their camp while the rest slept or were busy looting the Royal Pyre, and before they fled, they took as many supplies as they could and burned the neighboring camps, unleashing even more chaos in Harrenhal. The fragile alliance that made up the royal army had shattered with Randyll Tarly's death, and the violence with which it had occurred only hastened the events. The nobles who hadn't fled after the first night were quick to rekindle their old feuds, and despite several attempts to choose a new leader, all of them came to naught. Lord Staedmon and a few others took their men with them when Los Titus Peake of Starpike was chosen as Tarly's replacement, although not even three days had passed when a couple of his guards found his corpse, squashed against the ground after falling from the walls while on patrol. After that, no candidate managed to garner the necessary consensus, and the army continued to disintegrate day by day.

Bryce was on the verge of leaving with his men from that accursed place, but he couldn't tell if it was the little honor he had left or the shame he already carried with him that made him stay in those wretched ruins. The days continued to pass, as men from the Stormlands and the Reach kept deserting or killing each other in almost constant brawls.

Until the flayed men arrived.

Hello there. Seems like this time I got to finish the chapter in the dates I expected. So, let's talk a little about what happened here. I guess many of you expected a great battle between Stannis and Randyll or between Stannis and Renly, and when I was drafting the story, years ago, that was my intention. But as the story progressed I started changing my mind. With the story's ending looming in the horizon, a battle whose outcome was already decided didn't seem that appealing to me and I prefered to try something different, some kind of Renly's Red Wedding if you get me. Most of Renly's supporters in OTL (and in this fanfic) were opportunists, just there so they could be in the winning side. The only thing that kept that army united was Renly's charisma and the expectations of a quick and easy victory. In this story, where the war demands more of Renly's army, and his victory doesn't seem like the most probable outcome, it seemed fitting that his supporters started doubting him and his leadership. Yes, it isn't Tarly's fault. He's the most competent of Renly's commanders, but when the tide of war seems to have changed to Stannis favor, it appeared logical to me that Renly's lords and knights would blame Tarly for it (although it's mostly Renly and Mace Tyrell who are to blame). Mix that with Randyll harsh methods and you get the setup for a coup. I wanted to give the sensation that, were the coup to fail, maybe Tarly would have defeated Stannis in battle but, Renly's lords, in their own fear and stupidity, ruined their only chances of getting out of this war victorious.

As always, thank you for your comments, favs and follows. This story wouldn't have come so far without your support. Hope you liked the chapter and see you in the next one!