"Fourteen combat missions, all successful and with no casualties across their entire period of active deployment. That's one hell of a resume Lieutenant. "
Sitting at the table in front of his superior Lieutenant Commander Kurt Ambrose regarded the man before him with the critical eye of a Spartan.
Fleet Admiral Terence Hood was a man who commanded respect. The people of the UNSC could love him or hate him but no matter what, everyone from the newest recruits to the most veteran of ONI spooks respected him.
"Thank you, sir."
"Your welcome son, but you really I should be thanking you. These soldiers you've trained are some of the best I've ever seen, and the missions they've seen through have been a bigger boon to the war effort than a dozen campaigns."
Kurt felt his chest swell with pride, to hear that kind of praise from the head of the UNSC, for all intents and purposes the sole leader of humanity in the dark times that had befallen their species, was a true gratification and a sign that he'd done his job well. That he'd helped train the finest soldiers in the UNSC.
"That's why I'm postponing their next deployment."
Kurt felt his chest deflate, curiosity and slight dread filling his bones.
"Sir?"
"Don't misunderstand son, your Spartans aren't being taken out of the field, just taking a detour. Come with me."
The head of the UNSC navy stood, walking out of the room with Kurt trailing behind him, both of them looking the picture of military discipline as they walked the dull steel grey halls of the assembly plant just finishing up in its construction.
"We need more Spartans Lieutenant. Just one of your generation can turn a ground offensive on its head. A squad can hold a front. At least long enough to make a difference. Your Spartans are a step in the right direction."
Kurt followed behind, paying rapt attention to the man and his words.
"ONI did a good job keeping yours a secret. Kept me in the dark for years, but as of three weeks ago I've taken full command and control of the Spartan-III initiative."
The two stopped in front of a large door, standing on either side were armed guards no doubt charged to stop any unauthorized personnel from entering. Standing apart from them was another man, holding a black case which Admiral Hood promptly took before handing it over to Kurt.
"Can't have you stuck as a Lieutenant for this. As of now you're a Captain, congratulations son."
"Sir, I don't understand."
"You will in a moment."
Hood walked up to the door, pressing several keys on a small pad to the side as the light flashed from red to green.
"Come with me."
Kurt, now Captain Kurt Ambrose, walked with Fleet Admiral Hood through the doors into a large observation deck overlooking a manufacturing plant.
Kurt's eyes showed only the smallest degree of his true shock, just below him, being manufactured in the hundreds, were full sets of MJOLNIR armor. Each one was nearly sparkling as they came off of the various conveyer belts.
"Sir… What is this?"
"This is the next step in the Spartan-III project."
Admiral Hood turned to look hard at Kurt and despite being a Spartan with almost two feet of height and a hundred-fifty pounds of muscle on the older man the super soldier still felt small.
"Don't make me regret this son, the money that had to be diverted to pay for this was worth a half-dozen battle groups."
"Permission to speak freely sir?"
"Granted."
"Why? Why take the risk? Half a dozen battle groups or a group of barely tested Spartans, it's an obvious choice."
"Maybe to some, but they don't seem to realize something; more ships aren't going to win this war. Every day we get more and more reports of ships being destroyed, soldiers being lost."
The admiral turned back to the glass window, giving him a view of armor sets that were being moved throughout the facility.
"Even if we make more ships eventually we'll run out of men to staff them. Spartans solve two problems at once, less men dying on the ground, and more Covenant forces taken off of the board. When your IIIs finish suiting up they'll be shipped out of K7-49 for PROMETHEUS. Until then, I want you to make sure they're up to snuff."
Kurt straightened into a crisp salute.
"Sir, yes sir."
"Good."
The Admiral walked out of the room, leaving the Spartan-II to ponder as fresh sets of MJOLNIR were assembled for use.
More than fifteen years later Kurt often looked back at that single conversation as a major turning point in his life. Before lord Hood's intervention, Kurt had all but resigned himself to a life of training children to kill with the knowledge that most likely all of them would die before they even hit twenty. Now, he had a ship, a crew and three companies of Spartans under his command, almost all of whom were alive and happy.
He watched Robert and Shane mount their horses, speaking softly with each other. With time and age his Spartan's had truly been forged not just into efficient groups of warriors, but into family. Brothers and sisters in arms who would lay down their lives for each other at a moment's notice. Jane was still a little miffed that she wouldn't be participating with the rest of team wolf-pack, but letting her compete in the archery competition was already pushing their luck with the prickly Westerosi nobility, not to mention the king.
While Tywin's plan called for them to utterly humiliate the other forces of Westeros, Kurt doubted that the lord of Casterly Rock would appreciate his knights and lords being defeated by women.
Still, Kurt almost wanted to dress up Jane or Lucy in armour and send them out just for the thrill of it. He kept that impulse in check however. Their mission was meant to demonstrate them as formidible in order to both display house Lannister's power and act as a deterent to armed conflict with them.
Adam was receiving encouragement from the rest of team foxtrot. Though Lucy and Min hadn't won the archery competition, they were encouraging Adam to show Westeros what beta company spartans were made of.
Kurt watched and smiled at the three spartans trotted out onto the melee grounds on their horses, swords and knives strapped to their bodies and shields on their arms. Compared to their drills in training the melee would be a breeze, to say nothing of how inconsequencial it was compared to their missions from ONI. Looking out across the grounds he saw dozens of banners and sigils adourning the armour and shields of the other competitors.
Prince Rhaegar watched from the Royal box as the melee was being set up. Where once targets and stands had ben placed for the archery competition now walls were being made to enclose the melee. Groups and teams in the upcoming fight were being formed from the knights, lords and commoners who would be taking part in the massive mock battle. In the chaos of men and horses he could see his cousin Robert seated astride his horse. His black armour covered in a yellow tunic with the Baratheon's black stag. The lords of the Stormlands were rallied behind him, laughing and joking together as they were directed across the field.
Briefly his eyes flickered over to Lyanna Stark, his cousin's beloved betrothed. She was a lovely girl, and even from his distance he could just feel that there was a wildness to her. For a moment he considered the idea that she was the one.
The pact of fire and ice was ancient and necessary. Every scroll and history he'd read led him to believe that it was far older than just the agreements between houses Stark and Targaryen, and even then, that pact between their two families had never been honoured. Even with that though, Rhaegar had his doubts about whether the prophesy needed the pact for it to be fulfilled.
Rhaenys was already born and healthy, and the Maesters had already assured him that Elia's latest pregnancy was going well. His wife was strong enough to travel with him to the tourney, even though she was more than half way through the process and her belly was large enough that it was obvious she was with child. Soon enough their second born would come and he would have his prince that was promised, or one of the sister wives who would stand by his side.
Still, the lingering doubt prickled at his mind. Elia was Dornish, and the prophesy said that the ice and fire, that Starks and Targaryens, needed to come together to defeat the great other. Would fate allow him his three heads, and the fulfillment of his destiny, if ice and fire were not brought together?
He was pulled out of his thoughts as Elia's hand gripped his a tad tighter. He was brought out of his thoughts as more knights rode out onto the field. The representatives of the Westerlands were taking to the field and were every bit as rancourous as the other kingdoms. Well, all except for a few. Among those few who retained a sense of composure and equinimity were the three knights of the house that everyone was watching. Rhaegar could even see his father's eyes focus for a moment on those three before they returned to darting around the pavilion, looking for enemies that weren't there.
'The house of Terra'. Rhaegar thought to himself.
While is was a new house that had emerged on Fair Isle off the coast of the Westerlands, appearing out of seemingly nowhere only two years ago. It had risen to prominence unnaturally fast. Rumours had run rampant, due in no small part to the stories brought back by lord Varys, the master of whispers. Rhaegar didn't place much credence into the stories of gods and demons come down to bless the Lannisters with warriors of great power. Nor did he take too seriously the tales of a massive structure of magic, said to be three times as tall as the wall and large enough to be seen from even Kayce or the Crag.
One rumour that had persisted though, was that membership in the house of Terra was not one passed down by blood as all other family names were. Many cited that their lord did not carry the name though he was their lord. In fact, he had heard the man refered to as Kurt Ambrose more than once when he had been caught up in court gossip. It was an odd thing, considering that house Ambrose was a minor noble house of the Reach. He would have to speak with Mace Tyrell about whether or not some branch of the family had journeyed to the Westerlands.
No matter the outlandish tales however, one of their number, and a woman at that, had won the archery competition and managed to shoot a target dead center from about a thousand feet away. Such a shot was not strictly impossible, but was nonetheless impressive. Now three of them were riding out into the melee, armed and armoured. Rhaegar would make sure to keep a close eye on them as the tournament progressed.
"I wonder if the Terras thought to enter their women?" Oberyn wondered, sitting beside Elia. The Dornish prince's seat was next to the royal family's, on acount of both his almost equal status, and the fact that his sister was Rhaegar's wife.
"Don't be foolish Oberyn." Elia admonished her younger brother. "No matter that lady Jane prevailed in the archery competition, none of the northern kingdoms would ever enter a lady into a melee, even Dorne would think twice."
Rhaegar nodded in agreement with his wife. There was no way that lord Ambrose of Terra would enter his ladies into such a violent competition, not to mention the reaction from his father if it happened.
"My lords and ladies." A herald cried. "The melee has been prepared, we present to you, the pride of Westeros."
Down in the field, The forces of each kingdom were set up ad different corners of the arena. As the Iron Islands had decided not to participate in the tourney, the field had been divided into eight sections for each realm of Westeros.
"For this momentous toruney, we have altered the melee. All seven kingdoms will fight for themselves, and will fight until all others are eliminated. If one kingdom ends the tourney with more than one participant, they will fight for the honour of being named the victor. Are the rule clearly understood by all?"
There was a chorus of affirmations from the forces in the arena as all of them retreated to their various starting area. Horses were readied and weapons drawn as the seven kingdoms collectively waited for the starting horn.
In the Westerlands area, Shane, Robert and Adam exchanged looks. While Shane and Robert remained on their horses, Adam dismounted before crouching down in a foot-racer's ready position.
Rhaegar watched alongside the rest of the realm as one of the knights of house Terra dismounted his horse before the tourney had even begun.
"What in the name of the gods is he doing?" Oberyn asked with a confused look on his face.
"Is he surrendering?" Elia asked.
"No. That is a runner's stance." Arthur Dayne was just as confused as the rest of them. "Does he intend to outrun horses at a full charge?"
"If he is, he'd be a fool." Rhaegar nodded in agreement with the Dornish kingsguard.
"Well, such foolhardiness will no doubt end in a swift death." Oberyn. "I suppose the Terras are not so grand as we were made to believe.
"Your man has dismounted." Tywin said, raising an eyebrow at Kurt. "I was under the impression they were fearless, now I see one resign before the horn is sounded."
"My pardon lord Tywin." Kurt reassured the lord of Casterly Rock. "I told my men to make this a spectacle, I believe that Adam has taken it a bit too far."
"In what way?" Tywin asked, interested now but his voice still carried a tone of minor irritation. "Does he intend to outrun them?"
"Yes."
In the boxes of the North, Brandon, Eddard, Lyanna and Benjen, alongside several other Northern lords and ladies and Tom, watched Adam dismount his horse and get into position.
"Well, it seems like Adam is really going to try his best here."
"Try his best?" Brandon asked incredulously. "He's gone and dismounted his horse. The melee hasn't even started yet."
"A horse would just slow him down." Tom said.
Lyanna scoffed.
"You believe he can really outrun a cavalry charge?"
"I do lady Lyanna, and if you watch you will see it yourself."
The sheer confidence with which the spartan spoke gave even Lyanna and Brandon pause. Turning back to the arena, they watched with baited breath for the melee to start and for the Spartan down in the arena to prove them right of wrong.
As the realm watched, the horn for the start of the melee was sounded. As the clear, crisp note resounded throughout the arena, it was followed with the sound of neighing horses, shouting men, and hooves beating on the ground.
The charge had begun.
And was subsequently left in the dust.
From the Westerlands' corner, a single man burst ahead of the cavalry formation and with astonishing speed he tore across the arena. The spartan Adam ran through the mud, reaching nearly fifty miles an hour without breaking a sweat. It took only seconds before he was clear across the grounds and slamming into the forces of Dorne, who were stationed opposite the Westerlands.
Most would think his speed to be impossible, but more than that, a single man on foot bearing down on nearly a hundred knights on horseback was an absolute death sentence.
Unfortunately for Dorne, they had never faced a Spartan. The charges of not only the Westerlands, but of every other faction in the melee slowed as they watched the devesation that unfolded. Adam was a hurricane of power and speed. He vaulted himself onto the saddle of one of the Dornish knights at the front of the charge, unhorsing him with a swift punch to the side of the head. Instead of sitting down and turning the horse about, he stood in the saddle and lept from it to another. The knight astride that horse was closely surrounded by another half-dozen men, but it didn't save him, nor did their numbers save them. Adam landed on the horse's saddle and knocked the knight right out of it, at the same time knocking him unconscious, before swinging his legs in an arc and taking down the six men who surrounded him. In but the first minute of the melee, Adam had managed to bring down near a tenth of the Dornish forces that had entered the fray.
Rhaegar didn't need to see the faces of his companions to know they were all as slack jawed as he was.
"By the gods." Arthur muttered, watching the destruction that was unfolding. "This... this is impossible. No man could move like that."
"if this is a delusion, it seems it is one we are all suffering." Elia whispered.
After the initial clash of Ser Adam against the Dornish forces had resulted in eight eliminations for the southern most kingdom the remaining knights broken up to attack from multiple angles. As they charged Adam didn't unsheath his sword, instead choosing to pull out a pair of knives.
Oberyn narrowed his eyes and even began to grit his teeth as he watched Adam deflect strike after strike from all angles.
"How can he block so well? He shouldn't be able to hold back a sword swing with just a dagger. The blade could never hold up to that kind of force for long."
Arthur nodded but watched as the melee went on, though at this point the rest of the competitiors had stopped in order to watch the fight of one against many, just like the rest of the audience. Already ser Adam had dealt with over twenty knights of Dorne, leaving them littered across the mud as their abandoned horses were riding off.
Rhaegar managed to tear his eyes off of the battle long enough to glance at his father. Aerys was watching the fight with a similar rapturous attention to everyone else, but more than being shocked, he seemed to be relishing in the humiliation of the Dornish forces. Rhaegar didn't know if his father understood just how detrimental it was that the Westerlands apparently had a warrior who could face such overwhelming odds and survive.
As he looked away from his father's gleeful face he instead found lord Tywin Lannister sitting in the box reserved for the Westerlands alongside lord Terra. Both were watching the battle with a sort of detached indifference, though Rhaegar was too far away to truly read their faces for any sort of crack in their facades. Tywin turned his head and exchanged a few words with the man seated next to him before turning back to the brawl.
In the stands belonging to the North, the Starks and the rest of the Northern lordship watched in awe as Adam alone crushed the forces of Dorne in their entirety. Sitting with them, Tom watched with an impassive look on his face.
"How is he doing that?" Benjen asked, watching.
"He's a spartan." Was Tom's short response.
"A Spartan?" Eddard asked curiously. "And what might a Spartan be? Other than, of course, a quite terrifying soldier."
"That is just what a Spartan is lord Eddard." Tom said. "A Spartan is a soldier, a fighter, a survivor, every one of those things, all in one."
"How do you become a spartan?" Lyanna asked, a gleam flickering in her eyes.
"Training, blood, and medicine." Tom told her. "Also age. One cannot be a spartan if they are too old."
"And how old is that Ser Tom?" Brandon asked.
"I am unfortunately not at liberty to discuss the exact details of spartan training lord Brandon." Tom told him. "I suggest speaking to my captain if you want to find out."
"Oh I will." Brandon said, smirking.
Sitting back down next to his brother, Eddard made a note to speak again with the lord of house Terra, even as Lyanna began to ask if the ladies Jane and Lucy were Spartans and if anyone could become one. As Tom seemed to divert all of his sister's questions his eyes wandered across the stands before they focused on Kurt Ambrose, who was sitting with Tywin Lannister in the Westerlands' box.
"I hope this will satisfy you lord Tywin." Kurt said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.
Tywin watched as Adam defeated even more of Dorne's knights, nearing two thirds of the Dornish forces unconscious at Adam's feet. He managed to keep his face largely neutral compared to the slack-jawed looks that seemed to adorne the faces of nearly everyone witnessing the battle.
"I must say this is impressive Ambrose." He said, keeping the approval out of his voice.
"Unfortunately this will not likely work again. Adam's assult here is based on surprise and speed, but now that the other competitors have seen it, they will likely not make the same mistakes Dorne did."
"Their mistake being not thinking a single man on foot could decimate their entire host?" Tywin allowed just the slightest trace of humour to enter his voice.
Kurt just smiled kindly.
"More so that they allowed Adam to fight them in smaller groups instead of simply burying him under their combined weight. Though, as it is now I believe that a message of our forces' strength has been clearly sent."
"I believe it has." Tywin replied, turning back to watch Adam continue his onslaught.
The final knight of Dorne fell as Adam punched him in the face hard enough to slightly dent his helm. Taking a deep breath he relaxed slightly from his ready position in the sadle of a random Dornish horse to assess his surroundings. All over the ground, unconscious members of Dornish chivalry were laid out on the mud and dirt. Their horses were scattered around the arena, driven away by Adam but without harming any of the warriors who they might have walked over.
Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the Westerlands' forces. A few of the men in the lead leaned back and clutched the reigns of their steeds, unsure if thier countryman might come to attack them.
Applause rang out in the arena. Two pairs of hands clapped for Adam's successful charge. Shane and Robert both lightly applauded the younger spartan and held his horse next to them. Calmly, Adam returned to the Westerlands host and mounted his horse, all the while never saying a world.
"Ours it the Fury!" There was a sudden roar from the Stormlands host as Robert Baratheon led a charge against the stationary Westerlands. Soon enough his call, and the sound of horse hooves pounding on the ground, rallied the other kingdoms and as one, the remaining realms of Westeros charged against the Westerlands.
Adam's actions had the dual consequence of instantly making the Spartans feared, but also that fear instantly made them, and the Westerlands by extension, a target. We also see a glimpse of Rhaegar's mind pre-rebellion. I personally really don't like R+L=J, or at least the portrayal of R+L=J as a good thing. By all metrics, both modern and contemporary, it was a terrible, stupid, insane decision that Rhaegar made, and if Lyanna was compliant she was almost as bad. Everything about it sucks and it's only seemed to have grown more popular with the portrayal of Lyanna as a grown woman in the tv show when in both universes Lyanna would have been 14-16 at most when she died, and 14-15 when she married. All of it is suspect and gross.