The charge of seven kingdoms resounded through the arena as six kingdoms faced off against one. Ser Adam of house Terra had single-handedly defeated the forces of Dorne in the melee of Harrenhall, on foot to make it all the more impressive, and in doing so had drawn the forces of the other six kingdoms against the Westerlands. The knights of the West had only just managed to enter into a short counter-charge against their approaching enemies, with Adam, Shane and Robert at their heads.

Sitting in the stands, Rhaegar watched as the seven, though it was more akin to two, forces approached each other.

"Neither Ser Adam nor his comrades should be able to pull such a stunt again." Arthur said, watching the cavalry formations.

"And how do you suppose that Arthur?" Elia asked.

"The formations of the other kingdoms Princess." He said. "They're far closer together than Dorne was. Risky in the event of a charge, but easier to prevent and defend against a piercing attack."

"Right." Rhaegar nodded. "Ser Adam's first attack plunged deep into the Dornish lines and attacked from within. Still though, he should not have been able to attack and defeat so many warriors on horseback single-handedly."

"He might put even our sword of the morning to shame." Oberyn joked, though his voice was distinctly lacking in any trace of humor.

"None the less." Rhaegar said. "The remaining kingdoms seem to have at the very least agreed amongst themselves to put off their rivalries until the Westerlands', and the knights of Terra, are defeated."

"Then it seems that neither Dorne nor the Westerlands will be named the victors of the tourney." Arthur said.

Down in the arena, the Westerlands had finally slammed into the rest of the seven kingdoms. Adam, Shane and Robert rode near to the head of the formation, leading the outnumbered force in near on six different minor counter-charges.

Adam was riding with the Westerlings, Marbrands and several other houses towards the forces of the Vale and the Reach who had been placed closer to each other. The three kingdoms clashed together, with the Vale and Reach each attacking one flank, and in the chaos that ensued knights, sellswords and all other manner of warriors slammed together and the charges devolved into the chaos of battle. Few could truly make out individuals in the frey beyond the markings of house sigils on shields but as those were quickly destroyed by swords or discarded to the ground it became even harder for the audience to follow.

On another front, the Stormlands and Crownlands smashed into a smaller countercharge led by Shane and the knights of the houses Crakehall, Swyft, and Serrett. Shane dove in right after the first impact of the charge, but found himself faced with dozens of knights piling on top of him.

Spartan IIs were known to be able to lift three times their body weight at least, and Spartan bodies typically weight more than twice that of average human beings due to the carbide ceramic augmentations they are subjected to. Spartan III augmentations are known to be superior to those augmentations used in their predecessor program, and give similar end results to their strength, speed and overall power without many of the risks of failure common in the first regime. Because of this, when Shane found himself trapped, being piled upon by five men in steel armour. He found himself strugglin, but not overwhelmed.

Spartans IIIs stood at an average height of six foot, five inches, through their taller members could breach six foot, ten inches. The Spartan IIIs usually weighed somewhere between one-hundred to one-hundred-thirty kilograms. Combined with the massive increasees in strength due to their enhanced musculature a Spartan III could lift a total weight of three-hundred to four-hundred-twenty kilograms. However, they could still push it farther if needed.

The average knight wearing armour weighed somewhere between one-hundred to one hundred and five kilograms, and while five of them wieghted together might be beyond the upper limits to how much a Spartan III could carry, Shane had the advantage that they were not a singular mass pressing down on him. Lashing out with a leg he pushed two of the men off of him, using the lessened weight to toss his other three attackers aside. These newer enemies were not making the same mistakes that the Dornish had. They were attempting to bury him before he had the chance to wreak havoc on their men.

Shane could applaud their tactics. In the close-quarters space and comparatively tame environment of a melee it allowed them to focus on weighing him down with their bodies without real fear of serious injury or death. However, this worked less well for Shane, who in these circumstances would have to be far more careful in order to limit the damage he did to his opponents.

Finding his opponents getting to their feet, as he hadn't gotten to knock them out before he had been beset upon by another dozen men trying to forcefully drag him to the ground, he rushed forwards into the fray.

Robert rode straight into a force of Northern and Riverlands men. The North didn't have a system of knights as the south did but their men and sellswords were just as capable. It was nothing to a Spartan but much like Shane, Robert found himself an intense target and soon found himself completely surrounded.

Robert lashed out with his fists and his combat knives, scraping them across armour and bashing heads together, but without much room to maneuver thanks to the thick close quarters battle he was forced somewhat on the defense. It he'd had a real weapon, his assault rifle, or even an M6G magnum it would be an entirely different story, but as it was he was defending more than attacking. For the first time he almost wanted to curse at Adam. His first assault, while spectacular, had ruined the element of surprise when it came to their strength and speed and made them the subject of serious attention. Attention that was not detrimental to the success of their mission if they were continually focused on as they were. If it kept going like this, the Spatans might have to use more than training moves in order to come out on top.

Adam himself was facing off against the forces of the Vale and Reach. The two kingdoms who considered themselves the pinnacle of knightly chivalry were the only ones who seemed to not have taken the same steps as the other kingdoms had. Already, Adam had found himself challenged nearly a hundred times to duels of honor between himself and some knight or other. Each time the other knights seemed to back off slightly in the face of the challenge. All of them ended the same, with Adam's challengers lying in the mud before he moved on to the next one. The rest of the Westerlands forces were being swarmed from all sides, outnumbered nearly six to one and losing ground Adam found himself reinforcing their crumbling lines.

While they weren't Spartans by any means, Adam's reinforcement managed to hold back the tide of the other two kingdoms somewhat as they fought. However, even as Adam managed to take down foe after foe, the rest of them were not strong enough to hold their own against forces that so outnumbered them.

Slowly they began a fighting retreat, which was matched by the other two pieces of their divided force. Slowly and surely, the six kingdoms were pushing back the Westerlands, even as the three Spartans left unconscious bodies as a trail from where they had started their retreat.

Each Spartan fought like armies unto themselves, but they were still three men. Three men who were holding back.

As the three pieces of the Westerlands' force came together, things began to change however. While it seemed that the various kingdoms had been able to focus on solely the West while divided and on seperate flanks, they were now standing withing striking distance of the other kingdoms. Smaller fights were beginning to break out between the previously cooperating forces and before too long the seperate but organised assault on the West had devolved into a brawl that seemed to no longer be about eliminating the biggest threat.

With the lessened pressure that came from the collapse of the sustained attack, the Spartan, and by extension the Westerlands were able to gain back ground. While they had been whittled away to only around twenty men, they were now facing disperate enemies as opposed to what was almost a single force. Working behind the Spartans, the forces of the West gathered together and began to lock themselves into a heavy defense in order to wait their opponents out.

Meanwhile, the three Spartans probed the battlefield, finding and disposing of anyone who came near them or their allies.

Shane slammed his fist into the breastplate of a Stormlands knight, knocking him off of his horse and to the ground.

"Shane, on your six."

Robert's warning came just a second too slow as Shane spun around, only to catch the blunt end of a warhammer slamming into his titanium breastplate.

Robert Baratheon rode upon his black warhorse, his antlered helm glinting in the sunlight. Shane rolled with the heavy blow, falling back into the ground into a backwards somersault before popping up and dodging another attack. It seemed that Lord Baratheon had no qualms with persuing an attack from horseback.

Shane was almost impressed by the man, who stood almost as tall as him even without enhancements. It was true that Westeros seemed to possess numerous people who broke the height standards of the UNSC, but Shane had never seen someone yet who could almost pass for a Spartan the way Robert Baratheon did.

He was definitely tall enough to be one, but then again, so were a quite a few others Shane had met. Where he really seemed to excel was in his balance of strength and speed.

Jamie Lannister was fast and strong, but not on the level of someone like Robert. Gregor Clegane was stronger than Robert and was strong enough he would have passed for a Spartan outside their armour, but he was far more brute than anything else. In fact, Shane had though that Gregor might have fit in with the savage Covenant race if he could grow enough hair.

That didn't mean that Robert Baratheon was on Shane's level though. While he might have struggled for a short time, with Robert being on horseback and him not, he would have defeated him all the same.

In the end, it didn't matter. The Baratheon lord wound up for another swing at Shane wen he was forced to shift in his saddle. If he hadn't, he would have found himself with one of Robert's combat knives in his side.

Robert himself rode up on his own horse, a destrier from house Lannister that while not totally obedient, was good enough to make up for Robert's less than stellar equestrian abilities.

The two Roberts turned their horses towards each other before the Baratheon discarded his helmet. The black-haired lord was smiling largely at the Spartan, who was his equal in height even out of the saddle.

"I heard there was a 'Robert' amongst you men of Terra. Is it you good ser?" He asked.

Robert didn't return Baratheon's smile, instead offering him only a nod.

"Yep."

Baratheon laughed.

"Excellent, it'll be a grand battle then. Think of it, two Roberts battling in the largest Melee of the realm. Wait for me at the end of this tournament Ser Robert of Terra, then we shall see which of us is the greater combatant."

With his piece said, Robert Baratheon dove back into the fray, disappearing from sight as the sounds of his war hammer smashing men faded into the din of battle.

"That's an odd guy." Robert said, taking a moment to speak as he punched a Crownlands knight off of his horse. Grabbing its reins, he handed them over to Shane who took them and vaulted himself up into the saddle.

"Should we take care of him now?" He asked, trying to find the lord of Storm's End in the fight.

"He'll come to us eventually." Robert shrugged. "Let's get back into this thing. We have orders."

Shane nodded, urging his horse alongside Robert's as they ploughed through the forces of Westeros.

The battle raged on for a while afterwards. With so many men fighting the whole thing lasted more than an hour before finally, the contestants were beginning to thin out. Where once over eight hundred men had ridden and ran through the arena, now less than a hundred stood. Of the Westerlands, no more than eight men stood, the rest had either been knocked unconscious or yielded in defeat. The forces of the other six kingdoms made up the rest, with the largest contingents belonging to the North and Stormlands.

Adam, Shane and Robert clashed against the few remaining forces, keeping close together in order to prevent themselves from being separated.

the numbers continued to thin. men grew tired, sword swings and hammer blows grew less frequent as the day wore on and the head of the new spring made men sweat in their armour.

By the end of the second hour of the melee there were less than thirty men who fought a series of duels and battles. With the number now so low, the three Spartans found themselves spliting off from each other and cleaning up the rest of the competition. They and a knight of Casterly Rock were now the only members left of the Westerlands' forces.

Shane found a duel being fought between a group of five men, two of them displaying arms of the Vale, while the other three were of the North. Most prominently amongst them was a man of the Vale fighting two Northern men at once. He wore bronze or bronze coloured armour and fought with experience. His hair was greying it seems, and the man's long beard was flecked with grey and white. Even without the sigil sown into the front of the clothe he wore over his armour Shane would have recognised him. Shane had been seated with the Vale lords during the archery torunament and had seen the man enough. Lord Yohn Royce was a formidable warrior by Westerosi, and even UNSC standards, but by the standards of Spartans, he was incosequential.

With a slash of his sword he sent one of his opponents tumbling into the dirt, where he finished him off with a kick to his helmeted head. The other went down soon after, surrendering as the older man held his blade to his throat. The second Valeman was matched evenly with the Northman he was fighting, but their duel found no conclusion. Shane rushed forwards, using the element of surprise in order to get between the two men. With a deft calmness he grabbed the base of both mens' blades, his titanium armour giving him the option of simple grabbing both sharpened steel blades before they gained momentum through a swing. The two men were so shocked by not only his intervention, but by his act of casually catching their swinging blades, that they did not think to defend themselves against his next attack. Shane pulled both blades from their hands, flipping them both in the air and catching them by their pommels. He held both at the throats of the Vale and Northman.

"Yield." He said.

Both men merely nodded and Shane lowered both blades, letting the two me leave the arena. Hearing the ground crunch behind him he whirled around and brought up his blade in time to catch the swing of the older Vale warrior.

"Your one of those Terra knights, aren't you. I saw one of you speaking with Lord Arryn."

Shane didn't say anything behind his helmet, which concealed his face from the other man. Lord Yohn Royce tried to swing again at the man, bringing his blade around in an expert display of skill. His strike was met by the other blade, which pushed him back as Shane's superior strength overcame the larger man. Shane continued to push the man back, but Lord Royce's skill in battle made it difficult for Shane to outright defeat him without relying on a degree of strength that very well could kill the man.

Captain Ambrose had warned them that they were not facing Covenant, or even other Spartans. All of them would have to hold themselves back to a level they never had before, lest they end up killing everyone they faced off against. As such, Shane, Adam and Robert had been forced to rein back so much of their true capabilities that the strength and skill of some of the other competitors was almost a threat.

Yohn Royce was one of those almost threats. The man was tall for a Spartan III, an almost on par with the heights of the average spartan II. Standing at two meters he looked fearsome enough that even UNSC soldiers would likely have thought twice before engaging him. To Shane though, he was an old man who he would have to hold back even more than normal against in order to prevent permanent damage.

Shane was good with a knife, but swords were an entirely different skill-set. The most he'd ever had to use them was when he took energy swords from dead elites during his missions. Still, with his superior physical abilities it was less about skill and more about sheer force. Before long Shane was hammering Yohn Royce back, striking with a speed and strength that was all but impossible for the older knight and lord to follow. A well timed blow disarmed the Vale lord and placed the tip of Shane's blade at his throat.

"Yield." Again, it was all Shane said, and after a moment, Lord Royce nodded in surrender.

Shane lowered the point of his blade, turning away from his beated enemy to see how many other competitors were left.

Adam, in contrast to his fellows from Alpha company, hadn't found anyone willing to tangle with him. After his display against the Dornish most of the competitors gave a cursory showing before they surrendered to him, hoping to be spared his wrath. Not that Adam felt any wrath or anger at these people. They were primative, backwards people who at best were a mystery the egg-heads back at the Plataea wanted to solve and at worse were savages that they would have to drag, kicking and screaming, into the twenty-sixth century.

Adam watched Shane take on his three opponents, and as he finished, the two of them made momentary eye contact even at their distance before as one, they turned again to watch the last few men knock each other out of the running.

With the last of the fighting wrapping up, there were about a half-dozen men still standing. The knights of Terra made up half of them, while the other three who were not were a pair of warriors from the North and Riverlands, who were dueling each other and seemed to be evenly matched. The last of the six was none other than Robert Baratheon, lord of Storm's end and lord paramount of the Stormlands.

The stag lord had his eyes on one man however. Ser Robert of house Terra could see that the stormlord was focused on him, prepared himself for the conflict. Robert Baratheon charged forwards, the only man still on horseback as the rest of the competitors had as various points either dismounted or been thrown from their steeds and benn forced to fight on foot. The Baratheon covered the ground between himself and Robert, swinging his warhammer in an attempt to knock Robert off of his feet. It was a good move, and at the speeds he was going and his strength behind the blow, dodging would have been a challenge for most men.

Robert was not most men though. He braced himself, and as the warhammer came downfor the blow, he caught it in his hands. Gripping tight he allowed the horse to ride past while pulling hard on the weapon. Baratheon for his part did not go down clumsily. He stood in the saddle, feet in the stirups and managed to fling himself backwards, landing on the ground with both feet under him. He pulled on his weapon, and had Robert been a normal man he would have been pulled forwards. Robert was not ordinary though, and stood firm before retaliating with a harsh tug of his own. Baratheon found himself being the one pulled forwards, right into Robert's attack which left his warhammer on the ground, and Baratheon on his back. Robert stood over the lord of Storm's End, a foot on the man's chest pushing him down and his sword unsheathed and pointed at his throat.

"Yield." Robert said, advancing the point until the side of the blade touched the side of Baratheon's neck. The stormlord stilled from his futile struggling before he struck the ground twice with his palm.

"I yield." He said, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Robert took his foot off of Baratheon's chest and offered him a hand, which the lord took graciously.

"You're a right strong shit aren't you?" He said, a smile forming on his face. "Looks like we'll have to celebrate your victory tonight instead of mine."

The stormlord walked off towards one of the gates in order to leave the arena and Robert turned back to find out how many men were still fighting. He came face to face with Shane and Adam. The Northern and Riverlander were both lying at Adam's feet, their blades in his hands as he likewise offered them the chance to yield. Both men acceted and the melee of Harrenhall found its last three competitors. Shane, Adam and Robert eyed each other as the crowd murmered and muttered, wondering who might be the winner of the last battle.

Together, all three men readied themselves, before as one, they charged.

And that's where we're gonna leave it. I'm sorry about the lack of a Spartan fight but I don't think I could do it justice at the moment.

For anyone who thinks that I am nerfing the Spartans. You're right, I am, but training and tourneys is like the only area the Spartans can really lose to real people. They have to hold back their strength and speed to marginally human levels in order not to kill anyone, while the Westerosi can essentially go all out. That's one of the reasons why, when trapped and dog-piled by half a dozen knights, Shane was actually struggling. Also they're not wearing Mjolnir armour, otherwise this whole thing would have been over in minutes, if that.

I'm actually quite happy that so many people see what i'm getting at with R+L and how creepy it is. I do kind of bash Rhaegar during these chapters but still, I hope I don't do it too hard. I'm not trying to paint Rhaegar as malicious, just as delusional and obsessed with prophesy.