Trigger Warning; Gore and Violence.

The Monstrous

251 AC

The sounds of metal striking metal were like songs to his ears. Men yelled, both in determination and pain, as they fought and died on the battlefield. Maelys stood towards the center, taking in the situation around him.

At times he missed when he were a teen. He'd yet gained his 'monstrous' title, and men saw his size as a way to test their own skills. He'd used to keep track of the number of men who challenged him, but the number had grown so much that he'd lost count.

Now, his reputation had been cemented. Men avoided him like the plague, more than aware of his capabilities. Only the truly brave – or truly stupid challenged him nowadays. It didn't matter much to him, though. The thrill of hunting was one he enjoyed a lot, almost to the degree of battle.

His grip on his steel flail tightened as he spotted a man on horseback in the corner of his eye. In a burst of speed unnatural for a man his size, he found himself before the charging horse, no doubt aiming towards the men behind him.

Even through the helmet the fear in the man's face was evident as he tried to turn his horse from the giant before him. It was too late for that however, as the spiked ball of his flail made contact with the horse's neck, nearly decapitating the thing.

Not even able to scream, the horse crashed to the side, burying its rider beneath its intense weight. The man didn't get much of a chance to react before he found a ball of spiked metal in his chest, tearing through his body as if his armor wasn't even there.

Maelys ignored the words of appreciation from the men he'd just saved, instead scanning the battlefield for his next prey. He spotted a group of men in fierce battle and charged towards them, his flail raised high above his head.

The men were unable to do anything, his superior strength and size bowling through them as if they were children. His flail tore through them the same as it'd done to those before.

It was not long before the horns of their enemies sounded, calling for their retreat. They'd won the battle, but it didn't stop Maelys from killing the few men who'd been unlucky enough to get within his range.

The sounds of their own horn was sounded shortly after. Their cavalry and archers would hunt down those fleeing, but the rest were to return to camp. The Golden Company stood victorious once again.

The mood in the war camp was as it always were. Men sharing their experiences on the battlefield or boasting about the number of men they'd killed. They ate and joked and cheered as they did after every victorious battle, something that the Golden Company had grown very accustomed to.

Maelys didn't share the signs of happiness as his peers, for he believed he was better than them. They shouldn't even be his peers, as he had the blood of a king while they were sellswords, exiles, or outlaws.

Maelys detested the direction the Golden Company was heading towards. It seemed as if his cousin had forgotten the reason it existed in the first place, more than content with running around as a simple mercenary group.

In the past, he'd let his cowardly cousin be. He too shared the beliefs that they needed to cultivate strength and that they weren't to make the trip west. Years had passed since, however, and the Golden Company had done nothing but contracts for others. Yes their coffers had grown, but they'd barely grown in size.

The Disputed Lands were ripe for the taking, but his cowardly cousin was content with doing the Myrish or the Lyseni's bidding. Wars they won and territories they claimed were then turned over towards their contractors. No more would that stand.

The air surrounding the war camp clearly shifted as men made clear of his monstrous form, marching fiercely towards his cousin's tent. Men muttered to themselves and their peers on what could be the cause of his sour attitude.

Maelys stomped his way towards Daemon's tent, still clad in the bloodied armor of the battle before. "Daemon!" He shouted, his deep, harsh voice establishing itself above the chatter of their soldiers.

The monstrous man soon made eye contact with the supposed 'leader' of the Golden Company. The man scanned him, clearly noticing his bloodied armor. "Your craven ways will stand no more! Face me, for I share the true vision instilled in the Blackfyre name!" The murmurs of the men behind him grew, but he paid them no mind. His gaze locked onto that of his cousin.

The man was clearly hesitant, but didn't speak it. It was clear that Maelys couldn't be dissuaded from his way of thinking. With a resigned sigh, he spoke. "So be it, cousin. I shall retrieve my armor and my horse and face you an hour from now," he turned towards the men gathered before him, projecting his voice louder. "May the results of this battle dissuade anyone else from such actions as you have taken."

The men erupted in applause and cheer. If there was one thing the men of the Golden Company liked, it was a fight. Maelys stood as he were for the next hour, even as his cousin prepared for their match. He didn't need a horse or even a weapon to showcase the difference between the two of them.

Soon, the two met face to face, separated by fifty yards. Daemon sat atop his horse, his black armor stamped with the pure gold of the Golden Company and the sigil of house Blackfyre. He wielded a lance, and a sword could be seen attached to his waist.

Opposite him stood Maelys, still clad in his own black armor from the battle earlier in the day. Like his cousin, his armor was also stamped with the pure gold of the Golden Company and the Blackfyre sigil. His lack of any weapon at all was clear to those who watched.

A horn sounded, signaling the beginning of the fight. With a shout of determination, Daemon charged forward of his horse, the silver metal of his steed's armor reflecting the torchlight around them.

Maelys stood still, watching the movements of his opponent. Finally, once in range, he shifted his body, the lance of his cousin glancing off the side of his armor. Maelys clenched his fist, burying it into the head of the horse.

The horse screeched in pain before crashing to the ground. His cousin was able to jump off the horse before being buried under it, scrambling to draw his sword.

Maelys was on him in an instant, striking his arm with such force that the metal encasing it dented. He lifted his cousin by the neck, positioning him so that his body was buried under Maelys' knee. Maelys' gigantic palm stretched across the older Blackfyre's face, and with a display of strength he began twisting.

Soon, after a tear akin to one ripping a shirt, Maelys pulled his cousin's head, now separated from its body. Maelys raised his arm high, showcasing the clear victor of their bout.

"As The Seven as witnesses, I, Maelys Blackfyre, am the true leader of the Golden Company!" The men erupted in applause once again, not batting an eye towards the death of their now usurped leader.

"Now, men, rest! For we will serve as mere sellswords no longer! There are lands ripe for the taking, and we will establish ourselves as the kings we were meant to be!" The applause only grew in size as the men hooted and hollered at their new leader's words. Maelys didn't bask in the applause, however, for he had land to conquer.

254 AC

Maelys stood true to his words years prior. News quickly got out that the Golden Company were working for themselves, shortly followed by their streak of victories across the disputed lands.

First was the keep beneath the Tree of Crowns, a holding protected by a lush forest. The previous owner had been a Myrish magister who'd been exiled. His head now stood atop a pike, among a plethora of others that met the monstrous Blackfyre in battle.

The Tree of Crowns was established as a base of operations for the Golden Company and the newly dubbed provenance of 'Hells Barren'. It'd earned its role as base of operations for being the first settlement Maelys claimed, but it was far from the first.

Maelys swiftly hit the nearby holdings of the bandits and sellswords nearby, before turning his eye south to a holding in Oubeis. The self-proclaimed lord of the holding was quickly dispatched and the territory claimed for Hell's Barren.

From there, Maelys would strike Coin Hoard and Sellsword's Perch to the east, and Pendanne and Rael Trunos to the north before finally making his way back to the Tree of Crowns. Hell's Barren now controlled all of the lands between Lys and Myr.

Maelys' gaze turned west towards the Stepstones, but he didn't control any coastal territories nor the boats for his men to make the trip to the islands.

He was no longer surrounded by petty sellswords or outlaws that claimed a keep for their own, however, which halted his conquest. Now, his enemies were people with established territories and the men to protect them.

Along the west coast sat the territories of The Old Mother. The woman was a distinguished pirate who constantly raided the lands of Lys, Tyrosh, and even Myr from time to time. She'd raided along the Stepstones numerous times, and was seen as one of the most dangerous pirates in Essos.

Her rival was Samarro Saan. While technically being vassals of Lys, the man and his family paid no attention to the laws of their liege, raiding other Lyseni territories and coastal cities. The Saans controlled a good portion of the Lyseni navy, meaning that any actions toward them would result in a deadly civil war.

Controlling the lands between Lys and Volantis was the Ebon Prince, an exiled Summer Island prince who led a sellsword company.

Spotted Tom was another company leader, who controlled the territories between Maelys and The Old Mother.

The Lord of Battles was also a company leader, but he didn't have any lands of his own. Instead, he bolstered an army of men similar to the Golden Company in size.

Lastly was Nine Eyes, who led the Jolly Fellows. Like the Lord of Battles, Nine Eyes also controlled a mercenary company of significant size.

Maelys was certain that the Golden Company would come out victorious in a war against any of them, but he needed all the men possible for his journey west.

So, instead of waging war, he sought an alliance. In his keep beneath the Tree of Crowns, sat his potential allies. Alongside them was Ser Derrick Fassoway, an exiled Westerosi knight, and Silvertongue, a wealthy Tyroshi merchant.

The hostility in the air was clear to everyone in the room, but none acted upon it. Maelys' presence stood as a deterrent, for they knew that none of the people present could beat him in battle, even if they were to fight him eight to one.

"Now, to discuss the matters before us," he spoke, his voice as deep and harsh as ever. "All of us here have something in common, tremendous power rivaled only by that of the Free Cities." He paused, scanning the reaction of his host. They were clearly waiting for him to get to his point, but tried their best not to showcase it in front of the mountain of a man.

"And such power should be recognized for its value. Why settle for pirates and sellswords when our true calling is that of a king? I have established a kingdom for myself, but still yearn for more. If we were to cull our strength together, the only choice for our enemies would be to bow before us."

"From Volantis to Braavos we'll reign, even the Iron Throne will bend to our might," his purple eyes gazed upon those sitting before him, making eye contact with all of them. "The nine of us are destined to rule, so why make destiny wait. We will carve our names in history as they should be."

A range of emotions formed on the faces of the people before him, but it was clear that his message struck. The Old Mother was the first to speak, her voice brittle and weak despite her fierce appearance. "Your words strike deep, Maelys the Monstrous," she stood, extending a hand towards the mountainous man. "Let us write our names in history."

Her acceptance was followed by the rest, marking what Maelys was sure to be a turning point in history.

On this cold night, inside the keep beneath the Tree of Crowns, the Band of Nine came to be.