Renly III

Renly's heart pounded in his chest as the dragon swooped down towards them, its massive wings beating the air with a deafening roar. The ground shook beneath his feet, and Renly could feel the heat of the dragon's breath even from where he stood. He couldn't help but feel a wave of terror wash over him as he watched the beast descend upon the ruins. The chaos around him only added to the unease that gripped him. People ran in every direction, screaming in panic as they tried to find shelter from the dragon's wrath.

Renly found himself frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from the terrifying sight before him. The dragon's scales gleamed in the sunlight, and its eyes blazed with an otherworldly intellect. Renly knew he was witnessing something truly extraordinary, something that would be etched into his memory forever. He thought that dragons were nothing more than legends throughout his childhood, tales told by bards to entertain the masses. He learned of their reality from Stannis, when he was five; at the time it was a terrifying thought. Even then, they felt like something impossibly distant, at least until rumors came of Daenerys Targaryen accomplishing what the Mad King never could. He did not overly concern himself yet as the rumors weren't concrete enough to confirm now.

Yet, here he was faced with the reality of a dragon, not the hatchlings the Targaryen girl was said to care for but a full-sized fire-breathing beast in all its greatness and horror, He couldn't deny the fear that coursed through his veins.

As the dragon began to attack, Renly watched in terror as it breathed a stream of searing flames toward the tents and structures that made up the camp. The smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the air, and Renly felt his stomach turn. He could hear the cries of the wounded and dying, the yells of panic and fear from soldiers and civilians alike. It was chaos, pure and unbridled.

At that moment, Renly realized how vulnerable they all were. They were mere mortals, facing a creature of myth and legend. It was a humbling experience, another event that made him acutely aware of his own mortality. He couldn't help but wonder if they stood a chance against such a powerful foe, or if they were all doomed to be nothing more than ash and bone. With his survival against the shadow of Stannis, he was hopeful despite the fantastical nature of this land. A dragon was still quite unexpected. He knew the past of dragon attacks in Westeros and how terrible they all went for all those who were not soaring atop their backs. There was little chance they'd make it through if it decided to set its eyes upon the camp that it already was so near.

Loras was down there, Robar was down there... A sizable portion of his combat-ready soldiers were down below where they faced the brunt of the dragon's terror. Renly's mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, but it was hard to think straight with the dragon's roar echoing in his ears. All he knew was that they needed to get as far away as possible, to give themselves a chance at survival. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to move, to abandon his friends and allies to their fate. The only idea that popped into his head was of the witch and the new addition to the camp. Her longtime friend? Renly suspected there was more to him than her words.

Seven hells he saw as much, When Blaidd first entered the camp, Renly couldn't help but experience a mixture of amazement and horror. He observed how, despite his enormous size, the half-wolf moved with an almost uncharacteristic elegance. Renly pondered whether they would stand a chance against such a beast and how many men it would take if he could even be taken down at all. Renly was captivated by Blaidd's humor and intelligence as he started to speak, though. It was apparent that Blaidd had a mentality all his own and wasn't just some dumb monster. Despite his brutish and somewhat horrific look. If he was back at home reading about such a creature, he imagined he would've found the text an intriguing read. Though now face-to-face with yet another impossibility, it only caused him further worry.

The idea of Renna and Blaidd teaming up against the camp caused a knot to form in his stomach. Though now with the dragon attack happening in front of his very eyes if anyone stood a chance against a dragon it was her. Someone of her ability Renna seemed to at the very least rival Stannis's mysterious Red Priestess. Despite that he did not expect her to agree to help so readily, nor did he expect Blaidd to follow. Renly had to admit If the wolfman was half as ferocious as he looked he no doubt could be of use as well.

Renly's eyes widened in shock as he watched the three unlikely "heroes" emerge from the chaos victorious. Despite his thoughts on Renna's capabilities he still figured the most they could hope for was her scaring the dragon off, via some other feat of magic he lacked comprehension of. He had never expected her and Blaidd to single-handedly defeat the monster. The four-armed blue witch, stood tall behind Blaidd as he led the way, the unknown being straggling a ways behind.

The half-wolf charging toward the dragon throughout the fight truly left Renly in awe. The intricately decorated greatsword in the creature's hand seemed like a mere toy compared to the massive beast before them. Renly couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine as he watched Blaidd creature approach the dragon fearlessly showcasing that even with the decorative design of his weapon it still packed mighty strength in its blows. Despite the word "half" in his title, it was clear that this being was beyond human in many ways. However, it did not discount that Blaidd compared to the dragon may as well have been Tyrion compared to the Mountain who rides.

The dragon easily outmatched Blaidd, being thrice Blaidd's size, but the half-wolf didn't hesitate for a second. His determination and courage were a testament to his strength and prowess, and Renly couldn't help but feel a strange mix of admiration and terror as he watched the scene unfold before him. That's before even considering getting a glimpse at the true scope of Renna's magic projectiles, he thought her projectile spells during their encounter with the Sentinel were impressive, but the pure beams of magic she sent out toward the dragon caused his jaw to drop. He silently thanked himself for approaching her with diplomacy in their initial encounter.

He wondered what it must be like to possess such power, to easily shape the world around you with nothing but your will. It was a tantalizing thought, but also a terrifying one. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of person would be drawn to such power, and what kind of things they would do to achieve it. Though he was glad he had such a woman fighting against the dragon. If she had not been around, he doubted they would have survived this encounter.

He glanced over at Emmon Cuy, and Renly couldn't help but notice Emmons Cuy's earlier fear as the dragon descended from the sky was gone. The man was clearly panicked before, his eyes wide and his face as pale as snow. It was as if he had seen a ghost. Renly could understand why. He himself had felt a mixture of shock and terror upon seeing the beast.

Renly knew that Emmons' fear wasn't just due to the shock of seeing a dragon. He had heard stories of the destruction and devastation they caused hundreds of years ago, and those stories had been passed down through generations. Even more recently given the increased rumors of the Targaryen girl. It was no wonder that the mere sight of one had Emmons on edge.

Despite the success of the three heroes, Emmons seemed to be struggling with the sheer impossibility of it all. Renly could see the disbelief in his eyes as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around what he had just witnessed. It was understandable, really. An entire army taking down a dragon was a near-impossible feat, A group of three taking one down all on their own is something straight out of a bedtime story.

He nodded to Emmon to convey his understanding, this seemed to put the yellow-caped man more at ease. Then he caught sight of Brienne walking towards him with some soldiers trailing behind Brienne and one of the weathered men helping to keep one of the men upright.

As Brienne got closer, Renly saw the unmistakable features of Loras he was the man she was helping, flanked by two other men. The sight of his beloved knight filled him with joy, but it was quickly replaced by a deep sadness as he saw the toll of his encounter painted across his face.

Renly approached him slowly, his heart aching with empathy for the pain and trauma Loras must have endured. For a moment, he didn't care about the eyes of his people or the whispers that would surely follow their embrace. He opened his arms and pulled Loras close, holding him tightly as he felt the young man tremble with emotion.

In that moment, Renly felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. How many more would suffer the same fate as Loras? They were prepared for combat back at Bitterbridge, and every day it became a hidden dark wish of his. Perhaps this was his penance for the hope. His men certainly, were getting their fair share of combat… Just far from the kind any of them expected.

He held Loras for what seemed like an eternity, feeling the knight's body slowly relax against his own. It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything to Renly. It was a reminder that, in the midst of all this chaos and bloodshed, there was still a flicker of hope. As they pulled away, Renly saw the tears that had formed in Loras' eyes. He knew that there would be more battles to come, more losses to endure. But for now, they had each other. For a moment, it felt like enough to keep them both going.


As Renly brought Loras towards their now shadow-free tent, she gasped at the sight of her brother's injuries. "Loras?" she gasped, her voice tinged with shock and concern. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Loras winced as he tried to speak, but Margaery gently shushed him, taking his weight and helping him to lean against her shoulder. "Don't speak, my sweet brother," she whispered softly. "Just let me take care of you."

Renly could see the worry etched on Margaery's face as she approached. Her eyes were red, and her voice trembled as she asked about Loras' condition. He could sense the love and concern she had for her brother, and it only added to the weight of his own guilt.

"He's stable for now," Renly replied, trying to offer some reassurance. "But he needs rest and time to heal."

Once inside her tent, she carefully helped Loras lie down on the cot, arranging some pillows behind his head and easing his body into a more comfortable position. She then set three maester's to work, tending to his wounds with a gentle touch and a steady hand.

"I'm here, Loras," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now." The worry on her face was evident, eyes never leaving her brother's face.

After Loras was settled in their tent, Margaery turned to Renly with a look of concern. "Dear husband, I think it best if we do something to raise morale. Everyone is shaken after what happened today. I was thinking perhaps a small feast, to take their minds off of the battle, to help them relax and feel a bit of joy. The fish we have will be spoiled soon"

Renly considered the proposal, nodding in agreement. "You're right. It's been quite the eventful day, possibly the most eventful day any Westerosi has ever faced, and a feast would do us all good."

Margaery smiled, relieved that Renly was on board with the idea. "I was thinking that we could help prepare the tables, perhaps even the food, We don't want to overburden the servants, especially after everything they've been through. I know it's smallfolk work and we are not experienced but we could at least offer our assistance."

Renly nodded in agreement. "Agreed. It may be small folk work but it would be good if the people of the Reach and Stormlands alike remember, we are willing to lend a hand." The implication that resentment could build if they didn't play their part went without saying.

Margaery's face lit up smiling in triumph "I'll speak to the cooks and see what we can do. It'll be a nice change of pace for everyone, a good distraction as well." She added the last bit quietly.

Ah, yes, a distraction," Renly chuckled to himself.

Margaery smiled.

With a plan in place, Renly and Margaery set out to organize a feast, hoping to bring some happiness and relief to the anxiety and intensity of the past 24 hours.


As they made their way to the kitchens, Renly's thoughts couldn't help but drift to the bigger picture. Their brief time in the Lands Between was already taking a great toll on everyone, including those who were not directly involved in the fighting. The people of the Reach and Stormlands were weary, and morale was low. A feast might seem trivial, but it could go a long way in lifting people's spirits, the Tyrell wit shown finely in this instance.

As they approached the kitchens, they could hear the bustle of activity. The cooks and kitchen staff were busy preparing food for the feast, and it seems word had already reached them. Margaery stepped forward, addressing the head cook, a portly man with flour on his apron.

"Good day, Yerbert, My king and I were hoping to lend a hand with the preparations for the feast. Is there anything we can do to assist?"

The head cook, surprised by the offer, looked at them both skeptically before nodding. "Well, I suppose there's always something to be done. How about you two start by helping to set the tables?"

Renly and Margaery rolled up their sleeves and got to work preparing for the feast. Arranging the tables and chairs in neat rows. Renly carried a heavy oak table, grunting as he tried to slowly place it down then opting to drop it with a thud. Margaery swiftly moved to help him, lifting the opposite end with ease.

"This is harder work than I anticipated," Renly panted, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Margaery chuckled. "It's not so bad. We're just not used to doing this sort of thing."

As they continued to set the tables, their conversation drifted to more serious matters. Margaery expressed her worry about what was to come.

"I fear for the safety of our people," she said, her voice laced with concern. "Did you see the way Blaidd and the Yitish warrior handled that dragon attack earlier, I can't shake the feeling that something more terrible is coming. We need to be prepared."

Renly nodded, his expression solemn. "I share your worries, Margaery. But we must remain strong and vigilant. We have to fight and go on, to protect our people no matter the cost."

Margaery smiled at his words, her eyes shining with admiration. "You're a true leader, Renly. Your strength and conviction in the face of all this honestly is inspiring."

Renly smiled, with a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thank you, Margaery. But you are doing quite well yourself, already trying to handle our future crop concerns in the middle of all the madness last night. We need each other, now more than ever."

Together, they finished setting the tables and carefully positioned the glasses, cutlery, and plates. As they worked, their conversation drifted to lighter topics, such as the latest gossip in court and the strange habits of some of their fellow lords and ladies.

As they worked, the scent of roasting meat mingled with the fragrant spices of the stew, filling the kitchen with an appetizing aroma. The servants set out platters of fish and bread, arranging them in as artful of a display as they could manage.

Renly surveyed the table with a critical eye. "I think this should do. It's not extravagant, but it's enough to show that we're taking care of our own. Hopefully convey our appreciation towards Renna, Blaidd and the Yitish man as well. Perhaps he can give us answers as to how he got here, ideas on how to return to westeros."

Margaery nodded, smiling slightly. "I'm sure it will be well received. We always make the best of what we have… t'd be incredible if he did had some idea of where they could go to return. I would make sure grandmother gave him enough gold to become a high lord of his very own."

Renly smiled at the comment, imagining the Queen of Throns making snide remarks about the funds.

Adding some final touches, they then headed out to officially announce the feast being finished in its preparation, and a great many of the denizens of the camp began to make their way enthusiastically to the tent.


Margaery III

Margaery and Renly moved to the high table to take their seats as soon as the rainbow guard started making their way in. However, as she ascended to her chair, she overheard a conversation from one of the lower tables. Guyard Morrigen, the Green, was announcing loudly to the other soldiers present, "If I were there fighting the dragon, I would have taken it down with ten strikes and one swift blow of my sword! You all saw how I took down that giant in the last battle. A dragon would be no match for me!"

Guyard's seatmate Emmon Cuy rolled his eyes and said, "More like you would have run away with your tail between your legs like the rest of us," under his breath.

"At least I have the courage to face my enemies head-on, unlike you, who cower in fear at the sight of a dragon," Guyard snapped back as he glared at Emmon.

Margaery couldn't help but snort at Guyard's ale-fueled bravado. She whispered to Renly, "I think Guyard has had a bit too much to drink. He's boasting about taking down a dragon now."

Renly chuckled and whispered back, "Well, let's hope he doesn't try to take on the dragon with a bottle of dornish red instead of a sword."

Margaery stifled a giggle at Renly's joke, but she couldn't help but agree with him. The soldiers were already on edge after the dragon attack, and Guyard's drunken boasting was not helping the situation.

As she sat next to Renly, she couldn't help but wonder how they were going to deal with the fear and trauma that the soldiers were experiencing. She knew that a feast wasn't going to solve everything, but it was a start. Perhaps it would help to remind the soldiers that they were not alone, and that they had each other to rely on.

Margaery observes the tense atmosphere as the dinner guests begin to arrive and take their places. She watches as the Westerosi sit rigidly, still apprehensive of the new foreign visitors, while Renna and Blaidd appear uneasy in their alien surroundings and attire.

Margaery makes an effort to establish a rapport by saying, "It's wonderful to see you all here tonight. We've had a difficult day, but I hope we can all get along and enjoy this feast"

Although the guests murmur their agreement, the tension is still there. Since Margaery notices that some of them are still on edge, she tries to start a discussion.

She continues, "I realize it's a little different from the Seven Kingdoms, but don't you think there's a certain beauty to the lands between?"

One of the soldiers nods hesitantly. "It's...different, to be sure," he says.

Margaery smiles, sensing an opening. "That keeps things exciting. Who knows, perhaps tonight will teach us all something new."

Renly had invited several soldiers and commanders who had helped slay the tree sentinel to join them for a feast. Renna was intrigued by the idea of a feast but was hesitant, unsure of what to expect from this strange land. Blaidd, on the other hand, was ravenous and followed Renna dutifully.

As the guests arrived, they were greeted with a spread of food that had been prepared by Renly, Margaery, and their servants. There was cooked fish, vegetables, and a variety of bread.

As they passed around the fish dish, Margaery watched as Renna tentatively took a small portion, eyeing it warily before taking a cautious bite. Blaidd, on the other hand, eagerly dug in, his wolfish hunger apparent as he devoured his portion with relish.

Yura, the mysterious warrior from the battle with the dragon, looked on with interest as the fish made its way around the table. "This is a delicacy in your land?" he asked, his voice heavily accented.

"Not typically," Renly replied, his gaze fixed on Yura. "These fish were caught near our camp in bitterbridge before we were teleported to this land."

Yura looked thoughtful for a moment before a gleam appeared in his eyes. "In my land, we have a dish that is similar to this," he said. "But it is prepared in a different way."

With that comment Maester Murthur approached Yura, curious about his origins. "Excuse me, Yura, is it?" he asked. "I couldn't help but notice your features and gear. Are you from Yi Ti? I thought fishing was a common profession in those lands, I know theres a variety of dishes even some dishes prepared without any cooking necessary"

Yura smiled, shaking his head. "No, I can not say I have heard of such a place. Though the manner of variety in fish dishes is familiar, well in a time a ways past it was common place at least."

The Maester's eyes widened in surprise. "You say you do not come from YiTi but a place with similar dishes.I've never heard of such a place. Please, do tell me more."

Despite the maesters curiosity, she saw Renly's own eyes sink at Yuras mention he is not from YiTi. She was saddened by the information as well but she truly did not expect him to have an answer so she was prepared. Though she did hold a curiosity for the true origins of this foreign warrior.

Yura said he was from the Land of Reeds. He spoke of strange creatures that roamed the swamps and jungles, creatures that seemed almost otherworldly in their appearance and behavior. Margaery listened intently, her mind struggling to comprehend the surreal visions that the foreigner described.

Margaery experienced a chill when Yura described the blood-based religion of his native country. She seemed to be overcome with horror at the mere concept of such a cult, a fear that gnawed at the borders of her thoughts like a terrifying embrace waiting in the shadows.

Yura's voice grew somber as he spoke of the destruction wrought upon the Land of Reeds by this religion, how the once-beautiful land had become a place filled with darkness, blood, and horror. The tales he told of his battles against dragons only added to the sense of unease that clung to Margaery like a morning cloak.

Margaery yet discovered herself captivated by Yura in spite of her worries. His presence offered a fascinating peek into a world that was very different from her own and was exotic and alluring. With him, she started to feel more at ease, her anxieties and uncertainties melting away like ice in the light.

But then a shudder raced down Margaery's spine once more when she noticed Yura's strangely intense fixation on Brienne. She couldn't help but be curious about the foreigner's hidden agenda and the shadows that lingered in the corners of his enigmatic eyes. With that he begun to explain more.

"In my travels, I have seen numerous dragons," he said. "But, few were as dreadful as Agheel. He has lived too long a life and I'm glad to say I played a part in seeing to its end. Though more terrible than the dragon itself were her supporters. In an attempt to be burned alive alongside their victims, they would entice people into her path."

Yura winced at the thought. "I once witnessed it. Agheel's followers threw a group of men and women into his path, begging and pleading for their life. Their annihilation was celebrated by the dragon's worshippers as she burned them all alive. It was an appalling scene. Witnessed the very same this day the difference being there were adequate contenders for a fight with her this time around " Yura nodded his respects as he turned to face Renna, Blaidd, and Brienne.

"So, what's all this fuss about a dragon?" Blaidd asked, his heavy his northernesque accent adding a rough edge to his words. Blaidd's half-wolf features were prominent in the flickering light, causing a subtle discomfort in the other two.

Renly looked at him, surprised. "You don't understand why we celebrate the defeat of such a monster?"

Blaidd shrugged his shoulders. "Dragons are not uncommon where I come from. Why make such a big deal about it?"

Margaery spoke up, her voice laced with a hint of fear. "But Blaidd, Dragons have not been around in westeros for centuries. This dragon. It was like nothing we've ever seen before. It was huge and powerful, and it destroyed everything in its path."

Blaidd remained unfazed. "I've seen Gransax, a dragon nearly the size of the capital, the celebrations after its death were immense and since then no one made such a fuss when a dragon was defeated."

Renly looked at him with a mix of admiration and unease. "You've lived through things that would drive others to madness, Blaidd. I can only imagine what horrors you've seen."

Blaidd gave a small nod, his eyes seeming to glimmer in the flickering light. "You 'ave no idea, mi lord. There are things in this world that would 'ake your blood run cold. Things that lurk in the shadows and feast on the flesh of men."

Margaery shuddered at his words, her eyes darting around the tents as if searching for some unseen danger.

Renly attempted to calm the tense atmosphere by clearing his throat. Let's hope we don't come across any such terrors on our voyage, then.

Blaidd gave a wry smile. "aye, my lord, I can assure you will."

Despite Blaidds tense words, as the feast progressed the atmosphere became more relaxed. The Westerosi were uneasy at first, but they were glad for the respite from the constant battles and danger of this strange land. They engaged in conversations with each other, exchanging stories of their homes and families.

The fish was a hit, with many of the guests eager to try it. Renna however stopped at her tiny bites at the beginning of the feast though she seemed perfectly content. Blaidd devoured everything in front of him, his wolfish hunger satisfied. Blaidd and Renna also were surprised by the edible nature of the fish it seemed. Though it did not stop the latter from consuming more of the dish.

The visitors' fatigue, fullness, and mental fatigue from their ongoing struggles and difficulties increased as the evening carried on. But for a few fleeting hours, they were able to put their concerns aside and take pleasure in a brief period of serenity and companionship in this strange new world.


Robar II

Robar stepped forward cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He had never encountered anyone like the tarnished before, and the strange, purple stone of the cave was only adding to his unease.

He introduced himself by saying, "I am Robar Royce. "I was unexpectedly ensnared by some form of chest enchantment in this place. I don't know much about this area."

The warrior gave him a confused and suspicious look as they regarded him. He looked at Robar's cloak, "You are not one of General Radahn's Redmane soldiers?"

Robar answered firmly, "No. "I am a subject of Westerosi King Renly Baratheon."

The warrior nodded slowly, seeming to consider this. "I see," he said finally, his eyes flicking to Robar's sword. "And what brings you to this cursed land?"

"I seek a way out," Robar replied. "I have no desire to stay here any longer than necessary."

The helmed eye narrowed, and for a moment Robar thought he might be in danger. But then the man simply shrugged. "As do we all," he said, turning to continue down the twisted cavern path."

As he followed he saw red enter his vision the sky was blood red and the ground a sickly pink, He looked on to see the helmed warrior quickly Robar fell into step beside him, still gripping his sword tightly. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the twisted plants seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own. Robar felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead, and he knew that he was in a land of horrors.

As they walked, Robar could feel the tension building between them. The tarnished seemed to be sizing him up, and Robar could not shake the feeling that he was being judged, weighed and measured. It was only when they reached a small clearing that the tarnished spoke again.

"You are a long way from home, Robar Royce," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I know not of a realm called Westeros but This land is not one that welcomes outsiders."

Robar felt a chill run down his spine, but he stood his ground. "I am aware of that," he said firmly. "But I have no choice. I must find my way back to Westeros."

The tarnished nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied. "Very well," he said. "But know that the path ahead is fraught with danger. If you are to survive greater Caelid, you will need my help I am Abere, The Tarnished."

Robar nodded, grateful for the offer of assistance, but still wary of this strange man and the horrors of Greater Caelid as he surmised was the name of this land. He knew that he was in a place where the rules of his own land did not apply in a great many ways, and that anything could happen. But he also knew that he had no choice but to press on, no matter the cost.

Abere looks to Robar and assesses him once more before stating, "You're welcome to come along, but let me just stress that this is no simple task. You had best contribute and keep up the pace if you don't want to be left behind to fend for yourself."

Robar nods solemnly, intent on demonstrating his abilities. "I'm not going to fail you. I'll go to any lengths to finish this project."

He arches an eyebrow and says, "You best pray to Marika you don't get in my way," with a menacing look in his eyes.

The Tarnished's remarks cause Robar to experience a brief moment of panic. He is aware that he is in a hazardous environment and that if he wants to survive, he must maintain his vigilance.

Robar kept an eye out for any signals of danger as they traveled together through the twisted landscape. The canines and crows that prowl the area appear to have been bent and perverted by an unseen force, and the fungus growths appear to writhe and pulse.

Robar can't get rid of the feeling that they are being watched as they make their way further into Caelid and that a dreadful fate awaits them if they let their guard down even for a second.

Then they got closer…


The dog was unlike anything he had ever seen before, its fur matted and tangled, its eyes glowing with a terror. The crow flew in from above the dog's massive head, its black eyes filled with rotting malice.

When it moved closer to Abere, the dog growled loudly and rumblingly, its enormous jaws snapping hungrily. The crow cawed and flailed its wings before swooping down to use its beak to prick Abere in the face. Abere lurched backward while holding his sword at the ready in an effort to disperse both beasts.

Abere managed to turn away barely in time, avoiding the dog's scorching breath on his face, as it lunged and clamped its teeth around his arm. The dog snarled and snapped its jaws even more forcefully as the man's sword swung, cutting deep into its flesh but appearing to feel nothing.

As the crow raked its talons across Abere's skin and drew blood, he experienced a stinging ache in his arm. He clinched his teeth and struck his sword once more, hitting the crow as it was in midflight. The bird screamed in agony and fell to the ground while frantically beating its wings.

He was poised for the dog's second charge despite its terrible cry. He avoided its teeth and slashed at the creature's stomach with his sword, twisting the blade until the dog sagged to the ground and its weird, guttural growls started to slowly fade.

Abere turned to confront the injured crow, which had lost the use of its wings. The bird no longer appeared to have the strength to defend itself as he gently drew closer while holding his blade at the ready. Its breath was ragged and shallow as it simply stared at both of them with its beady black eyes.

With one swift blow, He manage to dispatch the creature, ending its suffering and terror. He stood there for a moment, panting and covered in its guts, his heart no doubt racing from the intense fight.

Robar appeared at his side, looking his own heart still quickened despite not partaking in the encounter. "Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes flicking nervously between Abere and the dead creatures.

Abere flexed his hurt arm while nodding. He grimaced and said, "I'll live. "But, we must proceed. Who knows what more horrors this wicked realm has in store for us."


Robar's curiosity regarding the tarnished warriors genuine motivations and goals in Greater Caelid grew. He couldn't help but inquire as they resumed their journey, "What are you actually here for?"

The tarnished glanced at Robar before responding. "My purpose, is a personal matter that I'd rather not disclose at this time. But I will tell you this, I am in search of the great runes of the world, and I seek to better this ruined realm."

Robar was intrigued by Abere's words, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. "And what about this 'ruined realm'?" he asked. "What happened to it?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "This Realm was once prosperous and beautiful, but now it's nothing but a desolate wasteland, consumed by rot this part some of the worst of it. The only hope for this land is to find the great runes and use their power to heal it."

Robar nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was more complicated more than what he was letting on. "And why are you so reluctant to tell me your true purpose?" he pressed.

Abere's eyes narrowed, and he replied in a cold, stern voice. "Because it's none of your concern. And if you want to accompany me on this journey, you better pull your weight."

Robar was becoming increasingly frightened and uneasy with Abere, and he was unable to suppress these feelings. Yet he also couldn't deny the fact that he was stranded in this foreign land, with no way to return home. He was compelled to maintain his allegiance to The Warrior.

Abere reached inside a little leather pouch at his waist, and Robar's gaze started to follow his hands. He observed as he took out a delicate golden needle, its pointed tip gleaming in the gloomy setting. When he watched him roll the needle in his hand, he couldn't help but feel uneasy.

Robar couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue as he watched the Tarnished glanced at the golden needle in his hand. It was clear that the warrior took pride in the object, but Robar couldn't fathom its significance. He made a mental note to ask about it later. Despite the man's guarded nature and the unknowns that laid ahead, Robar felt a sense of gratitude towards the man for saving him for allowing him to travel with him. It was clear that Abere was a skilled warrior and Robar was grateful to have him as a companion in this strange and terrifying land. But as much as the horrors of Caelid and the nature of Abere were on his mind, his thoughts never strayed far from King Renly, Captain Loras, and his people. He knew he had to find a way back to them, even if it meant traversing the horrors of Greater Caelid.


A.N. This was by far the hardest chapter to write. I hope everyone enjoyed it. wanted to get it out by 8 p.m., believe it or not. It's currently 10:40 pm. Anyway, I hope everyone liked the POVs and interactions in this chapter. Curious about everyone's thoughts on where its leading and generally if they liked the chapter.

Also good news I have been working on earlier chapters. I will just need to edit them a bit more by the next chapter, and the old chapters should be rewritten, removing some of the wording and grammar mistakes. As well as my unfortunate chapter 1 blunder where I got the Spectral Steed whistle and spirit calling bell confused. For anyone unaware, I do have one other ASOIAF crossover I am actively working on: A Song of Bard and Maso. I suggest anyone interested in reading more of my work check that out it's quite a bit different from this fic. Though I plan for it to be equally as interesting once things get rolling.

SIDENOTE: I saw the Mario Movie, and despite some negative reviews speaking about it, I liked it a lot and thought it did a good job referencing several things in the game series' history. I recommend.