A/N: This is the second part of the double upload. Thank you all for being patient and understanding. I was super busy this weekend so I was unable to release the mystery OC or the first two chapters of Our Blades are Sharp. This is another Stafford POV and it is his recollections on what happened during the first part of the scenes in the trident. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but it sets up for Sansa's first POV next chapter. Stafford will be seen with Barristan Selmy for the first time. Please continue to vote on the poll for Arya and Sansa. Thank you for all the support!
Enjoy!
Stafford
It had been a week since they had left Winterfell. Since then they had exchanged the cold northern weather with the south, Stafford had always been accustomed to. Stafford felt the cool summer breeze on his skin and he knew he was closer to home. Stafford had been born during a long summer, everyone said so. He hadn't ever experienced a winter in his life. He had been to many parts of the south, from Highgarden to Storm's End and nothing quite compared to the experiences he had up north. The people of the north were probably not used to the ways of the South. He heard they even followed the old gods. He enjoyed his time in north, however much to his own surprise as well. He had expected it to be a cold desolate wasteland of emptiness. That's what many in King's Landing called it and he had never really experienced it for himself. The people of the North usually kept to themselves. Stafford, however, found that the folk of the north did not have much in common with the people in the south. They were a hardy folk, who followed old tradition. Something that the south did not really adhere to or in fact enjoy the prospect of. Stafford had not even been in the north for very long, but he knew that he might have enjoyed living there. It might have been due to how interesting and friendly the Starks were in his visit. He enjoyed them more than most of the people in King's Landing. They were honest, and frankly weren't desperately trying get their daughters to marry him for his claim to both Storm's End and Dragonstone, after his uncles both passed on. It was a shame he had to go back to King's Landing so quickly
After he broken fast this morning, he slipped out of the camp and rode to the bend of the Trident. Stafford carried his training axe, and he grabbed a training dummy to practice on. Every time they passed by the Trident, he would always perform this ritual of having to go back to site where his father kill Rhaegar. Stafford always got so attached in trying to act like he was in that very battle and he was striking down Rhaegar as he swung every blow. His father had always lived in the past like that. It was a way Stafford thought he could avenge his father every day he passed by. Father could have been happier if Rhaegar hadn't taken everything from him. Now he seemed like he also died on the trident with Rhaegar, no longer even able to heft the warhammer he was once famous for wielding at the trident.
He reached a clearing overlooking the river where it was stable enough to plant his practice dummy on. He dismounted his horse, staked the dummy on the ground, and began to warm up his muscles for the first few rounds of training he had for today. He had always trained even during the time they had been in Winterfell. Ser Barristan had always told Stafford to train his body like you would train a horse for a racing competition. The horse must not miss a day of training lest he slow and become weak. These horses were ripe for the slaughter and would not even hold a candle to the competition. He would not be untrained horse, he would be the fastest steed in the race. Although his fighting style hardly used any type of speed and most of the time he relied on strength and endurance.
He took a deep breath after stretching and began to slowly warm up with a few swings. He swung hard at the target. He used a variety of slashes to accomplish his goals. He used upward hook slashes to clip the dummies chin, and power slashes to send its body and head sideways. He kept on hitting it hard as it slowly began to slide to the ground. After another good hit to the head, the dummy got uprooted by the hit and sent the dummy to the ground. Stafford laughed, he would be doing this all day.
He continued his routine silently, substituting the power blows with swift strikes to help improve his stamina during battle. It was something he desperately needed to work on during combat as he winded easily. Each of the hits to the dummy took a toll on Stafford, especially since he practiced in his full half plate armor, because he wanted to get used to its encumbrance in battle. Periodically, Stafford would also do some calisthenic workouts with certain repetitions to make sure his stamina increased as well. After he had worked up a bit of a sweat, he once again knocked down the dummy for probably the fifth time now.
"You sure are besting that dummy that can't fight back," he heard a voice from behind him jest. He expected it to be his uncle Jamie, he actually hoped for it to be, so he could challenge him to a match here at the trident. Only fitting for it to happen in the exact same place his father killed Rhaegar, However, he realized the voice did not sound like his uncle at all. In fact, it had age with it. It was Barristan Selmy, the knight commander of the Kingsguard. He was in all white, but surprisingly he wasn't in his garments that were usually reserved for non combat purposes. Ser Barristan was in battle armor, the armor the kingsguard usually wore in the field. Stafford had no idea why, but the armor Barristan was wearing made his armor look like some peasant blacksmith had made it. The Kingsguard wear all white cloaks and intricate suits of white enameled scales, their fastenings for breastplate and other pieces made of silver. Barristan wore it with honor, and such befits an honorable man in Stafford's opinion.
"What are you doing here? Reminiscing your glory days? I wasn't expecting to see you here at all" Stafford replied. Ser Barristan laughed. Stafford grounded his axe and approached the old knight. Ser Barristan's long white hair blew in the wind.
"I accompanied Lord Renly here to meet the royal party. I expected to find you here," Ser Barristan stated, "Anyway, care to face a real opponent instead of dominating an unarmed scarecrow dummy?" Stafford grinned and picked up his axe.
"Gladly, you're youth is behind you. This time I will defeat you!" Stafford declared.
"Come then, let's see if you can beat the man, who taught you how to fight," Ser Barristan stated. Stafford picked up his axe and they began encircling each other for the fight. Ser Barristan initiated the battle using his sword to try to penetrate Stafford's guard. Stafford deflected the blows, and knew Ser Barristan wasn't holding anything back with the amount of power he felt while trying to do so. Luckily, they were fighting with blunted tourney blades, and not real ones. He would be quite nervous if they were. Ser Barristan drove him back as he deflected the blows with his axe. Stafford always tried to use the tactic of wearing down his opponents, by them thinking they had the upper hand and making them expend all their energy trying to hit his defensive stance. The crack of the wood on blunted sword could probably be heard from camp.
This time, however, Stafford could not see Ser Barristan's blows come any slower than they had been. They had come with a constant flurry, they had always had as they continued. Stafford not having any more time, before he himself tired out from having to deflect the blows went out of his defensive shell and assaulted Ser Barristan with his own flurry of axe. Stafford got in close and tried to get himself a hit at the close range. His battle axe was a pole arm, but if Stafford knew how to use it in close. In fact for some reason, he was better at close range with all of his axes than he was from the long reach area his battle axe was designed for. Ser Barristan got pushed back, by the flurry but he was unable to land a hit on him. When Ser Barristan tried to swipe at him with his sword to try to catch Stafford off guard, Stafford decided to try his luck and use his signature move. He caught the sword and tried to use the beard of his axe and all his strength to disarm Barristan. As soon as he tried to do so, Barristan smiled and yanked his sword quickly back before Stafford could put his full weight into his sword.
"Still up to your old tricks I see!" Ser Barristan declared with a smile on his face. Stafford resetting himself took a little breath.
"Should have expected not to be able disarm you like that. My fault, that will be my last mistake," Stafford proclaimed in reply as he charged Ser Barristan. Stafford's flurry of axes took a new found fury. They were fast, but powerful. Every passing blow dealt the force of a stag charge hitting it's target. Each slash was a woodcutters strike at a tree. Ser Barristan was driven back and Stafford managed to land a few clean blows on him. Stafford gaining confidence continued his pressured assault on Ser Barristan. Ser Barristan still deflected a majority of his blows and barely looked winded. Stafford had begun to take breaths in bunches now. He had not prepared for this long of a fight. He felt like the last minute of fighting had been an eternity. Stafford felt as if he had not longer had the energy to continue the assault, so he got even closer to try to close it out quicker. He began exchanging his flurry with strong power blows. They were winded up and exaggerated. Stafford felt his arms were wobbly despite the amount of blows he had landed on Ser Barristan.
Suddenly like a hunter's trap had been sprung, Ser Barristan began to respond to Stafford's blows. No longer able to keep up with each of the strikes while attacking, Stafford went on the full defensive. He was unable to deflect all the blows and Ser Barristan was about to hit major blows to his injured side. He still felt some of it, but he trained through it anyway. It was definitely affecting him now. Even more winded now than ever, Stafford realized the situation was dire. Defiantly, he began to make his final charge. With all his mind, and with the adrenaline pumping through him, he forgot about his pain and suffering. He landed blow after blow on Ser Barristan, hitting a majority of it, but the old knight stood strong and was able to weather the storm. The axe wasn't able to chop down the tree today. Now drained of energy, Stafford tried to land his final winded up strike to try to knock down Ser Barristan. However, before he could do so, he felt all the wind leave him. He realised, Ser Barristan had hit him right at his side after he had winded up. Ser Barristan landed a much more powerful cleave to his shoulder, sending Stafford straight to the ground on his knees, axe flying to the ground. Ser Barristan threw his blade on the ground.
"Well fought, almost had me with that last flurry. Try not show weakness on your side, you were clearly vulnerable and you showed it. If I had been Rhaegar, however you would have bested me like your father," Ser Barristan stated as he extended a hand to Stafford. Stafford laughed and took his hand as he got up.
"Stafford?" he heard a voice ask. He turned around and saw Arya with a boy he didn't recognize. He looked common, probably of the Riverlands. Ser Barristan looked at both of them, and picked up his practice blade from the ground.
"Arya? What are you doing here?" Stafford stated.
"Mycah and I were going to look for rubies in the Trident, what are you doing here?" she asked him.
"Ah, must Lord Eddard's daughter, I am Ser Barristan Selmy," Ser Barristan introduced himself. The boy's face lit up when Ser Barristan introduced himself tot the pair.
"Barristan the bold? Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?" Mycah, or at least that's what Stafford thought the boy's name was, asked.
"Indeed. Child. Stafford, I need to head back to the camp. Keep up with your training, and maybe one day you can best me," Ser Barristan stated as he began walking away from the clearing. Stafford sighed feeling the crushing defeat in his system. It wasn't like he put great worth in the duel, it was just that his sides and his arms were now ready to disintegrate after all the hard work he put in. Stafford kept his head up and decided it was best he move on from the defeat he had experienced.
"How long were you two standing there?" Stafford asked Arya and the boy curiously. The boy still awestruck came up with the answer before Arya could even speak. This surprised even Stafford.
"We saw the whole thing m'lord. Nothing to be ashamed of, Ser Barristan is quite the formidable warrior from what I heard in my father," Mycah stated.
"And what does your father do?"
"He's the butcher m'lord," the boy replied. Stafford noticed they were both carrying long wooden sticks, which really stood out to them. They looked like long branches, that could've been taken from a tree.
"So..What were you and that old knight doing here?" Arya asked Stafford. Stafford readjusted the sparring dummy for himself.
"Well, I was training by myself like I always do when we pass by this part of the Trident, when Ser Barristan showed up and challenged me to a duel. It seems he always does that whenever he sees me training alone, probably testing me or something," Stafford stated.
"So, he trains you?" Arya said.
"Well, yes, he is the man, who taught me all I know in a fight. Every man, who wants to fight has to learn from someone, and that someone just happened to be Ser Barristan for me," Stafford replied. The butcher's boy stood there in amazement after what Stafford had just said.
"Ser Barristan Selmy is the one who taught you how to fight? Just who are you m'lord," the butcher's boy asked. Stafford smiled.
"I'm Stafford Baratheon, Prince Stafford Baratheon I should say, but I hate having to repeat that title," Stafford replied in a calm dignified tone. The boy stood even more awestruck like he had met one of the seven. Stafford didn't like telling people of his status, especially commoners, who believed every noble was some legendary figure. Unlike his brother, Joffrey, who believes every bit that he is better than the people of the world, just because of his noble birth. Stafford Baratheon is someone, who really didn't give a damn about his birth. By the seven hells, he didn't want to lose his noble birth, though. He felt as if he wanted the titles that came with it, especially if he inherited Storm's End, but didn't want to be recognized as a Lord, but a common everyday person. Sure Stafford was a proud man, but he thought titles meant nothing. The titles themselves don't make a man, his actions did Ser Barristan once told him. Ser Barristan, once told him.
"The Stafford Baratheon, the Demon's Headsman? The second son of King Robert Baratheon" The butcher's boy stated. By the gods, that nickname had spread farther than he ever wanted to. He had earned the nickname after Joffrey's little tourney, which caused him much fame and infamy alike. Many in the Riverlands, especially at the crossing called him the Fiend Axeman, and others throughout the Seven Kingdoms called him the Demon's Headsman, because of how he had crushed the head of the Frey bastard in the tourney. He couldn't even remember the young man's name. Stafford was one of the youngest in that tourney and some had speculated he might be the next highborn boy to die in a tournament. His father apparently thought it was funny they nicknamed him the Demon's Headsman, because he had been the Demon of the Trident. Stafford shrugged off the nickname and returned to his training.
"Mycah, quit bothering Stafford like that. Now do you want to duel or not?" Arya asked the butcher's boy. The butcher's boy simply nodded in reply and they went to another open place right next to his training position. Stafford curious began to use his perpherial vision see what they were both doing. Stafford wanted to see what they meant by dueling. Stafford hoped that Arya wasn't going to pull out Needle and enter a deadly duel with a butcher's boy. Because he might have to kill the butcher's boy if he drew a weapon on Arya. He wasn't going to risk anything bad happening to her. He had promised that to her half brother Jon, and he was going to keep that promise.
The two brandished the blades in front of one another like they were about to clash with true swords. Stafford noticed how they gripped the two sticks like two swords. He gave out a sigh of relief, they were just going to fight with two sticks, he didn't want to kill anyone today. He only killed one person, and he didn't mean to.
Stafford moved up and attacked the dummy with a new vigor. Stafford moved up all over the dummy and struck it down with his axe. He heard the banging of two sticks, but paid no attention to the other two fighting with one another with sticks. He focused all his time and effort in defeating the dummy, he was going to be one of the best warriors in the land. He was not let a defeat let him get out. Stafford continued thrashing dummy vigorously and continued with such a fire in his heart that even the Targaryen dragons could produce a flame its equal. Eventually he knocked it down again, and Stafford turned to the two, who were still fighting with the sticks as if they were both swords.
"You two should have asked me for tourney blades, maybe you could get some better fighting practice in with them rather than using sticks," Stafford declared. The two stopped momentarily and looked at Stafford.
"Do you have anything we could use besides sticks?" Arya asked with a gleam in her eyes. Stafford chuckled a little.
"Here let me show you how to wield an actual blade," Stafford stated. Stafford went to his horse, and searched the saddlebags for a little. He threw out some of his spare axe and got out a tourney blade.
"Who wants to use the axe?" the butcher's boy quickly made himself known that he wanted the axe. Stafford handed the tourney blade to Arya. She grabbed it and got herself ready.
"Alright, first we'll work on stance, then we'll work on your swordsmanship," Stafford began, "I am not the expert in using swords, but I can use one well enough to teach you the basics. Axes on the other hand, you ask I know." Stafford then spent some time talking about the proper stance. Ser Barristan told him that the stance was the foundation of the skill in combat. With a good stance, one can channel and control the battle. After he taught them the stance, he taught them about the basic parry and reposte with a sword and an axe.
"Deflect it with the beard of your axe, Mycah! Arya don't get so aggresive, You're leaving yourself wide open for an attack!" Stafford instructed. The hours passed as Stafford continued telling advice to the two as they contiued to fight. Stafford even joined in a few rounds to spar with the two. He beat them both of course, but he always told them their mistakes when he did. The only way to get better is to face good opponents and how you went wrong if you lose to these good opponents. To be honest, the fight he recieved might rival even Joffrey, who has tried and failed to be a good swordsman.
Suddenly they heard a voice yell in surprise, "Arya?" Stafford heard his favorThe hours passed as Stafford continued telling advice to the two as they contiued to fight. Stafford even joined in a few rounds to spar with the two. He beat them both of course, but he always told them their mistakes when he did. The only way to get better is to face good opponents and how you went wrong if you lose to these good opponents. To be honest, the fight he recieved might rival even Joffrey, who has tried and failed to be a good swordsman.
Suddenly they heard a voice yell in surprise, "Arya?" Stafford heard his favorite brother Joffrey's laugh afterwards. There the two were with Joffrey having what looked like a skin for a drink. Stafford looked at the two of them, they seemed to be having a good time. The sparring between Mycah and Arya stopped as soon as they saw what was going on.
"Go away," Arya shouted back at them, angry tears in her eyes. "What are you doing here? Leave us alone."
"Alright, enough. Joffrey. There are plenty of other places in the Trident to take your lady," Stafford stated as calmly as he possibly could. The nerves his brother had were amazing. Such boldness for someone as low as Joffrey.
Joffrey glanced from Arya to Sansa and back again. He completely ignored Stafford, which only served to enrage Stafford a bit more. "Your sister?" She nodded, blushing.
"And who are you, boy?" he asked in a commanding tone that took no notice of the fact that the other was a year his senior.
"Mycah, m'lord" the boy stated.
"He's my friend," Arya said sharply. "You leave him alone." "A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, is it?" Joffrey swung down from his mount, sword in hand. "Pick up your sword, butcher's boy," he said, his eyes bright with amusement. "Let us see how good you are."
"Probably better than you ever will be," Stafford taunted, but when Joffrey detects a fear in another human being, he begins to ignore those, who do stand up to him.
Mycah stood there, frozen with fear. He looked at Stafford obviously wanting him to defend him. Joffrey walked toward him. "Go on, pick it up. Or do you only fight little girls?"
"She ast me to, m'lord," Mycah said. "She ast me to." Without warning he laid his sword on the boy's cheek. Luckily Stafford carried his sharp hand axe with him to defend himself in times like these. He drew it, but Joffrey still didn't seem to notice him. He was too busy trying bully Mycah.
"I won't hurt him . . . much," Joffrey told Arya, never taking his eyes off the butcher's boy. Arya went for him.
There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince's head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa's horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion's Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire.
Sansa was shrieking, "No, no, stop it, stop it, both of you, you're spoiling it." Stafford tried his hardest to intervene in the situation as he suddenly pushed Joffrey with the back of his axe. No one endangered Arya's life with a sharp sword and gets away with it. Stafford now stood his ground and faced Joffrey in a straight stand off.
"You little…"Joffrey stated as he began swining at Stafford. Stafford deflected the blows with ease, and just as about he was disarm him quickly, he saw a grey whirl go right past him.
Stafford gasped as his brother got bit by the direwolf, he hadn't noticed it up until this point.