The days following the melee, Robert Stronghammer, now known as the "Bloody Storm," found himself on the road. Despite the respect he had earned, and the newfound acceptance as Lord Boremund's bastard son, his heart still yearned for adventure. The life of a noble, confined within the stone walls of Storm's End, was not for him. There was still so much of Westeros to see, so many untrodden paths to walk, and battles to fight.
[ Flashback Start ]
He had dreamed of exploring the Seven Kingdoms as a boy, of roaming through the Riverlands, the Reach, Dorne, and beyond, fighting bandits, saving maidens, and seeing the world with his own eyes. That dream had never left him, and now, standing on the cusp of a new chapter in his life, Robert decided it was time to follow it.
One evening, as the sun set behind Storm's End, casting a golden hue over the castle walls, Robert approached Borros Baratheon. He had made his decision.
"I'm leaving," Robert said simply.
Borros looked at him, confused. "Leaving? You've only just arrived. And what of your place here, your new title?"
Robert shook his head. "Titles and keeps aren't for me, Borros. I need to see the world, fight battles worth fighting. I don't belong in a lord's hall, sitting and waiting for the next feast or tourney. There's a whole kingdom out there I've yet to see."
Borros frowned, though he understood his half-brother's restlessness. "And what of the dangers out there? Bandits, enemies, and gods know what else lurks beyond the safety of these walls?"
Robert grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "That's exactly why I'm going. I'll fight them, just like I fought in the Stepstones. I'm not afraid."
Knowing Robert was set on his path, Borros sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then at least be smart about it. You've got coin now—don't travel the roads with your pockets full of gold. You'll be a walking target."
Robert had thought of that. The gold and silver he had earned, along with the prizes from the melee, was far too much to carry safely on the roads. Thieves and bandits would be on him in no time if they knew he had that kind of wealth.
"I've already made my decision on that, too," Robert said. "I'm leaving most of my gold with you. You can keep it safe here at Storm's End. If ever I need it, I'll return. All I'm taking is a hundred gold dragons—enough to get by on the road. The rest stays here."
Borros nodded, respecting his brother's choice. "A wise move, though I'll admit, I'll miss your company here. You've been like a brother to me, Robert."
"And you to me," Robert replied with a genuine smile. "But this is something I need to do."
The next morning, Robert gathered his things—his warhammer, his armor, and a simple travel pack. He gave the bulk of his gold to Borros for safekeeping, leaving himself with only the hundred gold dragons he would need for the road ahead. He was dressed plainly, like a sellsword or hedge knight, without the trappings of nobility. That was how he wanted it. No more assumptions about his birth or status—just a man on the road, free to carve his own path.
He stood with Borros and Lord Boremund one last time in the courtyard of Storm's End. The wind whipped at his cloak, and the sky above was a pale blue, free of clouds.
"You'll always have a place here," Boremund said, his tone fatherly. "No matter where you go or what you do, Storm's End is your home."
Robert nodded, grateful but determined to move forward. "Thank you, my lord. But for now, I'm just Robert Stronghammer, a knight on the road. I'll come back when I'm ready."
With that, Robert mounted his mare, Mya, who had become his trusted companion. The black horse whinnied softly as Robert patted her neck, ready to ride out into the unknown.
"Take care of yourself, brother," Borros called out.
"You too," Robert replied, turning Mya toward the open road. "I'll be back before you know it."
And with that, Robert set off, leaving Storm's End behind him. His heart was light, and the excitement of the open road stretched out before him. He didn't know what awaited him—bandits, adventure, or perhaps even a cause worthy of his hammer—but that was the beauty of it.
Robert Stronghammer was free, ready to explore the Seven Kingdoms, with nothing but his wits, his warhammer, and the hundred gold dragons in his pocket.
[ Flashback End ]
As Robert continued his journey through the Stormlands, he stumbled upon a group of knights unlike any he had ever encountered before. They weren't jousting in festivals or fighting in tourneys for coin or glory. Instead, these knights were rugged, battle-hardened men who wore their scars like badges of honor. They called themselves the Blackstone Legion, led by a knight named Ser Holden Cross, a man of few words but immense presence.
Robert first met them at a village under siege by a group of marauding bandits. He had been passing through when he heard the cries of the villagers and the sounds of clashing steel. Instinctively, Robert spurred Mya into action and joined the fray, his warhammer swinging in brutal arcs as he crushed the attackers without hesitation. To his surprise, he wasn't alone in his defense of the small folk. A band of knights, clad in blackened steel and carrying the sigil of a dark stone on their banners, fought alongside him with precision and deadly efficiency.
When the battle ended, and the villagers were safe, Robert was approached by Ser Holden Cross himself. The leader of the Blackstone Legion was a towering figure, his face marked by battle scars and his armor heavy with the weight of countless fights. Despite his intimidating appearance, there was something about him that spoke of honor and purpose.
"You fight well," Holden remarked, wiping the blood from his sword. "Not many would join in against a group of bandits without hesitation."
"I couldn't stand by while innocents were being slaughtered," Robert replied, his tone as resolute as ever.
Holden nodded, a small flicker of approval crossing his weathered features. "That's good. But many knights would. Most would be too concerned about their titles, their coin, or their fame. We don't have time for such things."
Robert tilted his head, intrigued. "Who are you?"
"We're the Blackstone Legion," Holden said, his voice steady. "A company of knights who travel the world protecting those who can't protect themselves. We don't participate in festivals, we don't fight for lords who care only for power, and we don't waste our time on tournaments. We fight for the small folk, the ones who suffer most."
Hearing this stirred something deep within Robert. He had always thought knights were meant to be protectors of the realm, guardians of the people. But too often, he had seen them squander their strength on petty games of power or the pursuit of glory. Here, however, were knights who embodied everything he believed in—knights of strength, valor, and character.
"Sounds like something I could get behind," Robert said, meeting Holden's gaze.
Holden studied him for a long moment, his eyes sharp. "You're strong, and you fight with honor. But being part of the Blackstone Legion isn't just about swinging a sword or hammer. It's about sacrifice. We aren't paid in gold or titles. Our reward is the safety of the innocent and the knowledge that we've made a difference."
"I'm not looking for gold or titles," Robert replied, thinking back on his decision to leave Storm's End. "I just want to fight for something that matters."
Holden's expression softened slightly. "Then you're welcome to join us, if you're willing to uphold our code. The Blackstone Legion was built on the foundation that knights should be more than lords' tools. We stand for justice, for the weak and downtrodden. If you're ready to commit to that, then you can ride with us."
Without hesitation, Robert nodded. "I'm in."
The decision felt right. For so long, Robert had wandered, unsure of his place in the world. But now, with the Blackstone Legion, he had found something worth fighting for. These knights were a rare breed, men who had forsaken the vanity and corruption of the world to fight for what truly mattered.
Within hours, Robert was riding alongside them, his warhammer at the ready, as they patrolled the roads in search of those in need of protection. They traveled from village to village, helping rebuild homes, driving off bandits, and ensuring that the small folk could live without fear of violence. Robert quickly earned the respect of the other knights through his strength, skill, and unwavering dedication to their cause.
Over time, he learned more about Ser Holden Cross and the origins of the Blackstone Legion. Holden had once been a knight in service to a powerful lord, but he had grown disillusioned with the endless games of politics and the suffering of the small folk, who were often the ones to pay the price for the ambitions of the nobility. He had gathered like-minded knights, men who shared his belief that true honor lay in protecting the helpless, and together, they had formed the Legion.
The Blackstone Legion operated in the shadows, away from the eyes of the great houses of Westeros. They asked for nothing, took no sides, and held no lands. Their only goal was to ensure that justice was upheld wherever they went. For Robert, it was a revelation—knighthood as it was meant to be.
As they rode together, Robert forged strong bonds with his fellow knights. He fought alongside them, bled alongside them, and in doing so, found a new sense of purpose. He was no longer just a bastard son or a knight without a cause. He was a protector, a defender of the realm's forgotten people.
Robert had always prided himself on being one of the strongest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms. Before his unexpected arrival in this new timeline, there had been no one who could stand toe-to-toe with him—save for Ser Arthur Dayne, the legendary Sword of the Morning. He had fought beside and against some of the finest knights in the realm, and his strength was unmatched. But as he joined the Blackstone Legion and began training with them, he soon found himself facing an entirely new reality.
The Blackstone Legion was made up of 13 knights, each of whom carried themselves with the weight of countless battles. Robert, confident in his skills, eagerly joined them for their practice sessions, thinking it would be a matter of routine. But to his utter shock, he was soundly defeated by many of them. He managed to best only four out of the thirteen knights. The others were so powerful, so disciplined in their movements, that Robert barely had the chance to swing his sword before being disarmed or knocked to the ground.
It was humiliating, a blow to his pride. How could these knights—knights whose names were not even whispered in the songs of Westeros—overpower him so easily? As he rose from the dirt after yet another defeat, bruised and sore, he couldn't help but think to himself, What kind of monsters are these? He had never encountered such formidable opponents, not even in his days as a renowned warrior.
After a grueling day of sparring, Robert sought out Ser Holden Cross, the leader of the Blackstone Legion. He found Holden sharpening his sword by the campfire, his expression as unreadable as ever. Robert, still nursing his bruised ego, sat beside him.
"Why weren't you fighting in the Stepstones?" Robert asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and genuine curiosity. "With your strength, your skill, you could have turned the tide of the war. Why weren't you there with Daemon Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon, helping to drive the Triarchy from the islands?"
Holden glanced at Robert, his sharp eyes gleaming in the firelight. He sighed, his hands still moving steadily as he worked the whetstone across his blade.
"The Stepstones?" Holden said, his voice calm but heavy with meaning. "The war in the Stepstones is not what it seems, Robert. It's not about honor or justice, not for the common people. It's about power and profit. Corlys Velaryon led the charge because his profits were threatened when the Triarchy started collecting tolls. That's the real reason for the war."
Robert blinked, surprised by the bluntness of the statement. "But they were attacking ships—raiding them, sinking them. That's why we were fighting."
Holden shook his head. "Some of the attacks were real, yes. But many were exaggerated or outright fabrications, designed to rally support for Corlys' cause. He needed more houses, more men, more resources to fight his personal war, and he spun a tale to get them. In the end, it's the smallfolk who suffer. The lords fight their wars, but the people pay the price—burned villages, pillaged homes, lost lives."
Robert was silent for a moment, taking in the words. He had always known that politics played a part in war, but he had never considered the full extent of it. He thought of the countless men he had fought alongside in the Stepstones, many of whom had died believing they were fighting for a noble cause. Yet here was Holden, a man who could have easily been a hero in that war, explaining that it had all been about coin.
"So why are you here?" Robert finally asked. "Why not fight in those battles if you have the strength to make a difference?"
Holden set his sword aside, his eyes meeting Robert's with a steady gaze. "We don't fight for lords to grow rich, or for kings to win their thrones. The Blackstone Legion exists to protect the smallfolk—the real victims of war, the ones who don't have the luxury of banners or castles. We fight bandits, raiders, and those who prey on the weak. That's the only cause that matters to us."
Robert let the words sink in. He had spent his whole life fighting, but he realized now that he had never truly questioned why he fought. Whether it was in tourneys or wars, he had always assumed that being a warrior meant serving a lord or a cause dictated by those in power. But the Blackstone Legion fought for something deeper, something more meaningful.
"They don't write songs about men like you," Robert said quietly, "but maybe they should."
Holden gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "We don't need songs. We just need to know that when we leave a village, the people are safe."
That night, as Robert lay beneath the stars, he thought about the path he had chosen. Joining the Blackstone Legion had humbled him in ways he hadn't expected. His strength had been tested, his pride bruised, but for the first time in his life, he felt like he was fighting for something that truly mattered. It wasn't about glory or fame. It was about justice, about making the world a little less dark for those who had no power to protect themselves.
And as Robert drifted off to sleep, he knew that his journey had only just begun. There was still much for him to learn, not just about battle, but about the world and the forces that shaped it. But now, at least, he was no longer fighting alone.
Author's Note:
Enjoying the story?
Consider joining my to get early access to more chapters and exclusive fanfictions! Even as a free member you will get one extra chapter and you'll receive early access to chapters before they're posted elsewhere and various other fanfictions.Your support helps me create more content for you to enjoy!
Join here: (dot)com(slash)Beuwulf