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The Little Cub
Part 44 - The Red Summer

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An extract from the diary of Princess Malora Baratheon


As a war rages on, it is the men who do the fighting and dying. But what is there left for their families to do except for fearing that dark wings might bring dark words?

And then, they arrive.

All my life people have looked up to me because of my father. I wasn't born a princess but as I grew up, I needed to become one. Being the only daughter of the King, I always knew it would be my duty to marry and by that seal a peace between my father and whomever he decided to give my hand to. Even with royal blood flowing in my veins, I am - and always will be - but cattle that was sold to the highest bidder. And of all the people I was married to Prince Arry, a pretender to the throne. Considering the fact that he's risen up in rebellion, I suppose it is only fair to admit that my marriage to him caused more harm than good to the realm, as its purpose of tying two branches of the royal bloodline together only served to feed the flames even more.

As the father of my child won his freedom, slaying Lord Commander Balon in a trial by combat, I knew I needed to make a decision. My father has made many mistakes, but the greatest of them all was ever undermining Prince Arry. It wasn't because of disappointment towards my father for his actions or because of the pity I had towards my free-yet-broken husband, but for duty that I decided to walk out of the throne room, turning my back to the royal court once and for all. In a world of schemes, I'd grown more used to doing what was expected from me rather than acting according to my feelings. And so I did once more, feeling everyone's stare as I walked out of the throne room.

Yet now that the war one side has achieved what it wanted, I'm left thinking if I made the right decision that day. But for you to understand the whole story, I must write on and retell the events surrounding the Red Summer(as the people have taken to refering the war for independence). What follows now is but the recordings of rumours and news as I heard them. I do not claim that every detail is true, but then again what does it matter? All I now have left is ink, paper, dark thoughts ready to be turned into dark words and the eternity alone with the decisions I've made along this long road.
--

After destroying the Redwyne army that was camped outside Storm's End, the gates of the fortress were opened and my husband was welcomed home. The battle had given him vigor, but I saw there was something else behind his smiles, even when he embraced his sons.

.. His. Not mine.

When I looked over them and met the stare of the White Bastard Gaston Swann, I understood why my husband felt so absent. Durran and Aemon were full of questions, having heard of the battle their father had just won outside the walls. Although stained with blood, his appearance didn't seem to frighten the boys. They were tough children, even for their age. But every word they said only made me more aware of the ones that never left Ser Gaston's lips. I'd seen how Arry tried to live up to his father, just like my father to his(although neither were likely to think so of one another). Depth of the bond between a man and a son remains a mystery to me, but I know it can drive people to strange actions. And so my eyes never left Ser Gaston, whose father Arry had killed in front of the most powerful nobles of Westeros.

The duel between the Dragonbane and Prince Arry had been a sight to spectate, ending with the greatest knight in the history being defeated by none other than his own protege. And blood demands blood - the very reason why my husband had risen up in a revolt in the first place. No expression on Ser Gaston's face told of a grudge, but for a moment I thought he might lose control of himself nevertheless. My fear was for nothing, luckily, and the two comrades embraced one another - even if somewhat coldly in my opinion. They exchanged a few quiet words that never reached my ears before going on as if nothing had happened.

The army was accommodated inside the walls of Storm's End, and all out of sudden the fortress seemed to have come alive. Rest of the day went by normally, but the night did not. I waited for Arry in bed, perhaps hoping to prove him - and myself as well - that my decision to side with him was sincere. He'd not touched me after the events of King's Landing, and after a long time I realized he would not do so that night either. The next day I learned he'd spent the night, locked in a room with Gaston. I didn't know what they'd spoken about, but then again I sort of did. Men tend to express their emotions through violence, and I knew Gaston would do so as well - fighting on Arry's side in the battle that was soon to come.

I didn't attend the war councils but it was common knowledge that Prince Arry meant to meet the Crownlander army in open battle instead of staying withing the walls of the fortress. Still feeling confident after their victory over the Redwynes, the people claimed that this next battle would be my father's last and that the war would soon be over. Storm's End.. the words earned another meaning among the Stormlander soldiers. My father was a bastard from the Stormlands, even if legitimised, and therefore known also as 'Storm'. In a moment of peril people tend to look for omens that promise good things, and the name of the place the next battle would be fought at was quite literate. Superstitious peasants.. they had no idea that there would be no winners in that battle - only losers.

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The royal army, led by my father, arrived three days after the annihilation of the Redwyne host. The Stormlanders were well rested and the siege equipment left behind by the Reachmen served to fortify Arry's host's position outside the fortress. I watched on the walls as the two armies approached one another in the distance. And then the battle began. I only saw men killing men, but afterwards learned what actually happened in the gory show that was displayed in front of me that day. My father had called his banners and raised a mighty host. Not only did it consist of the Crownlander army, but shadows of the past also marched with him.

The Unsullied of Astapor - or who still remained after all these years - had been led to King's Landing by Ser Barristan Selmy after Daenerys Stormborn's demise in battle as she tried to free the slaves of Essos. King Tommen hadn't had a need for them, but nevertheless allowed the remaining Unsullied to live in King's Landing and find their own place in the world now that their queen was no more. But though freed, the shackles in the minds of the Unsullied never broke. They were men reborn for one purpose, and only a handful were able to go on with their lives. The rest remained united under the leadership of one specific castrate called Grey Worm, who found them a safe harbor in the slums of Flea Bottom. And there they awaited years for a purpose they'd lost with their queen.. Until my father had need of every soldier he could get.

The Crownlander army was bigger in size. Its right flank consisted mostly of the remaining Unsullied, who were said to be fearsome even despite the fact that most had grey hair under their spiked helmets. My father had granted their leader Grey Worm the command of that flank whereas he himself led the center. My husband had taken over the command of the vanguard of his own army, no doubt hoping to meet my father in close combat, whereas the two flanks were commanded by Ser Horas Flowers and Gaston the White Bastard.

I tried to follow Arry with my eyes, but after the battle broke out, I lost the sight of him. I later learned that he was wounded in the thick of fighting soon after the battle began, taking a spear through his thigh and an arrow in the chest. Whatever hopes he'd harbored of meeting Edric in a duel like Robert Baratheon and Prince Rhaegar once did must've faded quickly. I later heard that my father had offered a handsome reward to whomever brought him my husband's head; a thing many men attempted to do. But knowing that the center would collapse without his presence, Arry remained in command despite his wounds - with the rogue Kingsguard Ser Guyard Buckler at his side.

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The battle lasted less than half an hour, but watching it felt like an eternity. I saw the Stormlander right flank collapse, but at the same time their left flank seemed to be getting the upper hand in the fight. It wasn't enough, however, and the Crownlander center - three thousand men bigger in size - managed to rout the Stormlanders under Arry's leadership. I could hardly believe my eyes when I realized the outcome of the battle: my father had won the day. The remaining Stormlanders fled eastwards, leaving Storm's End undefended.

Afterwards I learned what had happened. The Stormlander left flank under the command of Ser Horas Flowers had managed to break the Unsullied, and their leader Grey Worm was slain in attempt to turn the tide of the battle by joining the frontlines. But though the battle on the left was a success, the right flank fell into disorder. My husband had given the command to Ser Gaston - a man with vast knowledge of the art of war, and a capable commander overall. Under his leadership the right flank of the Stormlanders might've prevailed, but fate had another thing in mind that day.

Not all of the Stormlanders had rallied when my father's army arrived, seeking for battle. Several detachments arrived at the nick of time to join the battle, one from Griffin's Roost. Ser Ronnet the Red of House Connington hadn't been in Storm's End to take part in the war councils, and had no idea of what my husband's plans were for the battle. When he and his men were told to join the right flank and take orders from Ser Gaston, the old and arrogant knight of Griffin's Roost refused. And not only did 'Red Ronnet' do that, but he also shouted commands that were in contrary to the ones given by Ser Gaston once the fighting broke out. Mayhaps the old Connington was hungry for more glory for himself or perhaps the thought of taking orders from a landless knight(and a bastard) didn't appeal to him - I never got to know. But the orders given by Ser Ronnet confused the men, and Ser Gaston sent a messenger to Prince Arry with information of Red Ronnet's behaviour. And waiting orders from my husband before deciding what to do proved to be futile, for at the same time Arry had sustained his wounds and the messenger was unable to find him.

By the time Ser Horas' flank managed to break the Unsullied, the right flank under 'Red Ronnet's leadership had fallen into chaos. The Stormlander center was under attack from one side and the front when Ser Horas' men were still pursuing the fleeing enemies. The battle was over soon after that, with over thirty-thousand bodies watering the fields outside Storm's End with their blood. Although the Crownlanders had lost more men, they'd also managed to rout the Stormlanders which count as a strategic victory.

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I'd half expected my father to ride to Storm's End and personally ask to see me and try to win over the mighty fortress with words. Instead his men built a camp away from the battlefield, and Storm's End was left alone. My father's army had suffered heavy losses, and it needed to recover before laying siege on my husband's seat(that ironically once was my father's home as well). But it wasn't thinking father that troubled me, but my uncertainity regarding Arry's fate. By the time the day was done, word had spread he'd been wounded lethally. I didn't know if the words were true or not, but luckily they later turned out to be false.

Unknown to me at the time, the command to retreat to east was given by Arry himself when he saw he couldn't turn the battle into a victory without heavy losses. He'd lost over half his forces, and fifteen thousand dead Stormlanders were enough for one afternoon. I was surprised he'd not commanded his men to retreat back to Storm's End into the safety of the walls, but the next day I understood the reason behind his actions. A small host from the Westerlands came to harry the remaining Crownlanders, turning their attention to west. At the same time another, huge host emerged from the east. When I saw the stag of House Baratheon next to the trout of House Tully, all I could do was smile.

Some count the events of those two days as one big battle, whereas others think of them as separate ones. If so, my father won the first day but lost the second. After the day was done, even more corpses were lying outside Storm's End. During those two days my husband and his allies had lost about twenty thousand men while my father's losses were estimated to be close to twenty-seven thousand. In total that made almost fifty-thousand, and this was only the beginning of the war.

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More confident and determined by his recent victory and, Arry - along with the small Westerman host - pursued the loyalist army. At the same time a Tyrell host of some fifteen thousand men met an army consisting of Reachmen rebels and some nine thousand thousand Valemen in Bronzegate. It seemed that none of the Lord Paramounts bothered to rally all their levies in one location, but instead sent them to the Stormlands in smaller detachments.

The Tyrells beat the loyalist army in Bronzegate, just as the Stormlanders thinned the Crownlander army's numbers once more in the forest of Galemont. Though Arry's army had suffered heavy losses and only consisted of some eleven thousand men, his men were driven by hunger for vengeance over their fallen comrades. Gaston the White Bastard, the last member of the male bloodline of House Swann affirmed his position as one of Arry's generals when he leading the right flank not only broke the enemy lines, but also slayed the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard during the battle. My father evaded meeting the same fate, and led what little was left of his army further towards the capital.

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The Riverlanders stayed at Storm's End, first seeing to the burial of the fallen and then remaining vigilant defenders of the heartland of the uprising. It was obvious that my husband was concerned about Dorne - Princess Emberlei Martell, the daughter of Arianne Martell the Bewicked, had declared for my father. Arry's fears of another army emerging from the south didn't however seem to come true, as the Dorne had fallen into a civil war and the Martells were busy tending to their own problems before marching to my father's aid. Overall, it seemed that Arry would win the war. But with only little more than ten thousand men and his allies scattered, he could not march to King's Landing. As more and more enemy hosts found their way to the Stormlands, he became too occupied in the defensive warfare to press on towards the capital.

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Every day brought more news about the war. The tales told about battles fought and won were almost idealizing, but I'd seen on the walls of Storm's End what the they actually were about. Part of me wanted the suffering to end, but I as well feared what the end would bring. Whichever side lost or won, I'd still have someone to mourn when the war would finally be over.

The Second Battle of Bronzegate was fought next. Lord Rickon Stark had brought some fifteen thousand Northmen to the war on my father's side, but they were defeated when the Reachmen, the small Westerman host and Arry's men combined forces. I was told that two loyalists had died for every rebel that was killed, but with the war already turning to Arry's favor, I was not sure if it was but talk that was meant to inspire the people even more and boost the morale.

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Having focused on the Northern host, Arry had let the remaining Crownlanders slip away. The loyalist army was given the time it needed to rally in King's Landing, after which they marched south once more under my father's leadership, joining forces with Lord Rickon Stark's remaining men. With seventeen thousand men against Arry's army of an equal size, the odds seemed even. Another Lannister army was approaching from the west, and instead of waiting to be crushed between an anvil and a hammer, my father decided to engage the combined army of Reachmen, a small force of Westerman and the Stormlanders. It seemed a desperate attempt, for a decisive victory with little casualties would have been required if my father meant to defeat the approaching Westerman army as well.

The armies met in the Kingswood, now on the Crownland soil. Until then all the battles had been fought in the Stormlands, but after four victories Arry had taken the war to my father's doorsteps. The war had reached a higher scale now when Lord Rickon Stark and my father led an army to battle against my husband and Lord Jaden Tyrell. And as the fighting went on, my father's fears came true. Lord Melwyn Lannister's bigger army had marched through day and night, and arrived just in time to attack the loyalist army in the rear. I was told that what followed was a massacre, and that once the loyalist army routed, the Kingswood became a hunting ground once more - this time the prey being the king himself.

Tales of that day vary depending on the source, but one thing is certain; my father died at the hands of none other than Ser Horas Flowers, one of my husband's generals. He died despite being protected by the newly-appointed Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Hewett. He died, knowing I'd turned my back to him. He died, knowing he'd leave a shattered realm for my young brother to rule. And suddenly I felt more lonely than in a long time.

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No one knew the name Ser Horas Flowers before the war. But killing Ser Arthur - who was escorting my father out of the battlefield - and then committing regicide made his name be on everyone's lips. There was a kingslayer in Westeros once more. I'd spent enough time in Arry's court to know the man only vaguely, as Ser Horas had never been a man of many words. His speechlessness was a little flaw, however, considering he was kind and brave and an excellent swordsman. Born from a Tyrell father and a Lannister mother, there was highborn in his veins from both parents.

But to understand why some considered his existence an insult, one must understand the situation surrounding his origin. His father was Lucas Tyrell, a brother to Alla Tyrell, the mother of my husband Prince Arry(making them cousins). Whereas Lucas Tyrell was never married, Ser Horas' mother was. After the wife of Lord Mace Tyrell(the father of Lord Garlan Tyrell, the father of Lord Jaden Tyrell) died, the Lord of the Reach(at that time) began seeking for a new wife. To strenghten the ties with the Westerlands, he married Joy Hill, a bastard girl from House Lannister. For whatever reason, she turned to Lucas Tyrell and gave birth to his illegitimate son. Lord Mace divorced her soon after, and King Tommen invited both parents to the capital soon after, where the boy grew up and was tutored in the art of war.

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Now, one might think why I bother writing such detailed records of the life of a man who murdered my father cold-bloodedly. It is a crime not easily forgiven, but then again the name 'Kingslayer' is a punishment great enough for him.

While I sat in Storm's End, being blissfully ignorant of the events that had taken place in Woodmere, the battle in the Kingswood was nearing its end. Arry was kind enough to send a letter to me, informing me of my father's demise. The writing didn't contain any details, and for obvious reasons I wanted to know exactly what had happened. Stories of a new kingslayer spread soon enough, but what happened to my father's body wasn't known. Arry's letter to me was formal and didn't reveal his thoughts regarding what happened, nor what he means to do now.
--

I write this, uncertain of the future of my family. My brother Jerion is my father's rightful heir, yet he's but a boy of fifteen. Whether or not he means to go on fighting our father's war against Arry remains uncertain to me, but I fear of the outcome it might lead to. Whatever the case, I hope that whenever I read this again, I can think with ease and in peace of the times that now remain yet to come.
 
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Awesome update! It seems that Horace carried out Arry's revenge.

I'm very interested in how the war will play out. What is the war score so far, or at least at this point in the game?
 
Awesome update! It seems that Horace carried out Arry's revenge.

I'm very interested in how the war will play out. What is the war score so far, or at least at this point in the game?

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That was a good update! I liked the change in perspective.
I don't seem to be able to stick to one way of writing. I've swapped the text style between the first and the third person, sometimes even including different POV characters(like in the last update). Sometimes I am not sure if it is a good or a bad thing, so hearing positive feedback about it is more than welcome!
 
I normally don't follow AGOT AARs that closely since I'm not hugely familiar with the setting beyond some second-hand sources, but I have to say that I've enjoyed this one immensely despite that. I love the amount of depth you put into your characters and the complexity behind their motivations, especially how you manage to make some rather offbeat AI decisions seem feasible from an in-universe standpoint.

Hoping to see more!
 
I'm not sure about the forum's current policy about links to external websites, but I suppose I could share the save with a private message. Keep in mind that it only works in 0.51 version of the mod, and that only runs in 2.04 version of Crusader Kings 2(which you simply can revert back to in Steam). Perhaps you can find a download link for v0.51 of the mod from the Citadel, a website hosted by the developers. That is where I'd start looking.

Six days of work in a week takes its toll, and I'm often too tired to work on the AAR when I get home. Still, part 45 is on its way. Glad to see there are still those that are reading.
 
Six days of work in a week takes its toll, and I'm often too tired to work on the AAR when I get home. Still, part 45 is on its way. Glad to see there are still those that are reading.

Indeed there are. Take all the time you feel you need; I'm sure the wait will prove to be worth it in the end.
 
I'm not sure about the forum's current policy about links to external websites, but I suppose I could share the save with a private message. Keep in mind that it only works in 0.51 version of the mod, and that only runs in 2.04 version of Crusader Kings 2(which you simply can revert back to in Steam). Perhaps you can find a download link for v0.51 of the mod from the Citadel, a website hosted by the developers. That is where I'd start looking.

Six days of work in a week takes its toll, and I'm often too tired to work on the AAR when I get home. Still, part 45 is on its way. Glad to see there are still those that are reading.

As far as I know, you can post links to download sites like mediafire and the like. The state of Westeros and its royal family is quite interesting; I'm glad you kept it going. Take all the time you need.
 
The Little Cub
Part 45 - Lord of Light

--

The Riverlander army led by Lord Ryan Tully had suffered a decisive defeat against the Valemen at a place called Brickendon. At the time my army met King Edric's in Woodmere, I wasn't aware of the fact that the host I'd left to guard the Stormlands had been routed and shattered. Thinking that victory was but one battle ahead, I engaged the Crownlander army in the Kingswood in a battle that mayhaps was the most significant so far. If the remaining loyalists lost in Woodmere, the road to King's Landing would be open for me. Despite the wounds I'd received earlier in the war, I joined the fighting personally and led the men to victory.

The fight was chaotic. Like in the previous battles, I'd hoped to find Edric and take revenge for the things he'd made me go through. But the location of the battle of Woodmere made that almost impossible; moving in formations in the dense woods was out of question. It was every man for himself when the killing began. As I rode through the forest, seeking my rival, a champion of the Northmen attempted to do the same so many had tried before. A lowborn man named Tybolt who for one reason or another had risen into Lord Rickon Stark's favor put himself on my way, only to meet the same fate as all the other would-be-killers of mine so far.

While I was busy staining my Valyrian steel sword in the blood of the Northmen, another did what I'd considered my private mission. The news of Ser Horas Flowers' deed spread soon, and I had to ride to see it with mine own eyes when the forest fell quiet after the battle had ended. My hatred for Edric had but grown as the time had passed, and believing that his end had now finally come was hard to believe. I'd thought that the news would bring me joy for I'd known that only one of us would survive this war, but when I arrived on horseback and witnessed Edric laying dead in a pool of his own blood, I felt simply nothing. Neither relief that my greatest enemy was dead nor remorse over the fact that my actions had led to that moment. Edric's death marked one more reached milestone in my war, but no words left my lips. Perhaps my cousin had expected to be rewarded for his actions and loyalty, for the way I looked at him silently seemingly confused him. I felt the same as Eddard Stark must've felt once, having ridden to King's Landing seeking justice, only to find someone had robbed him of it.

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Following Edric's demise, I led my army out of the Kingswood and up the Kingsroad. The capital of Westeros was but a day's ride to the north when I received the word from Lord Ryan about his defeat. The Lord of the Riverlands had avoided being captured, but his host had scattered and now the Stormlands were without any protection against the Valemen army. Cursing the fate for this setback and knowing that I lacked the men needed for taking the capital swiftly, I turned my host around and returned to the Stormlands to defend my homefront. For whatever reason, I sent Edric's and Lord Commander Arthur Hewett's remains to King's Landing and gave my enemies the unnecessary comfort of burying their loved ones. Perhaps I hoped that Edric's son, now King Jerion Baratheon of Westeros, would realize the folly of continuing the war if he saw the prize it had cost his father. Yet the boy didn't decide to send words of peace, and so I marched south to meet Lord Harrold Arryn's host.

Lord Arryn was called Harry the Heir in his youth - being but a distant relative to the rulers of Vale until the sickly Lord Robert Arryn had done one grave mistake. My father, King Tommen Baratheon had Lord Robert banished to the Wall and named Harrold the lord of the Vale - a title he'd held until this very day. Despite the fact that he was married to Lady Sansa Stark - a true beauty of noble birth - Harrold's adventures outside the marital bed had been one of the daily topics in gossips in King's Landing during my youth. But may the rumours be true or not, I was in debt to the man all the same. My war over the Stormlands would've proven futile without his help, for with the levies of Dragonstone alone I couldn't have wrestled the ancestral seat of House Baratheon from the Delicate Dondarrion.

The fact that Lord Harrold had declared for Edric had kept me awake for many nights. Not only was it due to my personal history with Lord Harrold but also for the fact that his son and heir Damon had squired for my father at the same time as Lord Ryan Tully. The heir of the Vale and Lord of the Riverlands had known each other since a child, and I'd counted that this friendship would've been enough for Damon to convince his father to side with me instead. Meeting Lord Harry or his son in battle was something I would've wished to avoid, but the ties the Arryns had to the royal family had taken root too deep. With one of his daughters married to Jerion Baratheon, Lord Harrold had had little choice.

The Arryn host wasn't the only loyalist army. I knew that destroying it would only bring an end to thousands more lives, not to the war, but I had learned from the mistakes made by those before me. The Young Wolf of the North had won all his battles, but losing his lands had began a chain reaction that eventually led to his demise. I could sit besieging King's Landing whilst a hostile army was ravaging the homes of those that had gone to war with me. The decision to turn around my host was a bitter one. I wanted nothing more than for the war to end quickly, and by returning to the Stormlands I was taking one step backwards.

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The journey south the Kingsroad took days. The wounds I'd received at the start of war weren't healing despite the great efforts of maesters, and the time I spent in the saddle didn't make my state any better. I wanted to have my wits about, so consumption of milk of the poppy to ease my pain was out of question. As my state remained the same, I began to doubt the expertise of my healers. Having heard of a priestess of Rhllor who'd made a name for herself with her mastery in the arts of healing, I decided to dismiss the maesters and try the alternative. The prospect of letting a witch mix potions for me didn't sound comforting to some, but their attempts to sow the seed of mistrust inside of me for her were to no avail. Whatever expectations I'd had for the priestess crumbled the moment I saw her. Though a follower of a foreing religion, the priestess was Westerosi - and only little more than a child. Joyeuse was her name.

As expected, I felt more comfortable in a young woman's care than being poked by old men wearing chains. But Joyeuse's appearance was but an illusion; the priestess posessed knowledge and wisdom well beyond her years, and her words stirred something inside of me. I'd never been a religious person and at first I didn't even have any interests towards her personal beliefs. My childhood friend Clayton had been a follower of Rhllor so I was somewhat aware of the consept around his religion. Its followers had risen up against my rule in Dragonstone years ago, leading to massacre of thousands of peasants at the hands of King Edric's army, and I didn't hesitate to point that out to the priestess. Yet cynicism was a useless weapon against Joyeuse, for she always had an answer at hand to be thrown at me.

Fire as an element had always been closely tied to my story. My father had perished in it, and I bore a sword by that name. Even my hair was red, a sign of being kissed by fire - and cleansed by it. After having discovered my father's true parentage, I had clung on to the belief that not having born with the golden locks of a Lannister, I was free from the sins of those before me. I never spoke about that to Joyeuse, but somehow in her presence words weren't often needed to explain what I felt. Yet when she told me that I had a connection with the Lord of Light that I didn't fully understand, I think it was actually her who didn't comprehend how troubled relations I had with her god. But to deny the truth in her voice would've been to avoid the evident - her presence had lit up a spark inside of me, and I dared not extinguish it. So I let her burn my wounds close and teach me how to study the flames.

I met the Arryn host in a battle at Bronzegate. The war had taken its toll around that area, and two major battles had already been fought in there before my encounter with the Valemen. It was as if my time with Joyeuse had filled me with confidence and determination, for I noticed a different tone in my voice when I led the men into battle. I'd gone through a long journey and that day in Bronzegate when I broke yet another loyalist army, I realized just how much I'd been changed by it.

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The war was turning into my favor, but its first battle had consumed my army more than I liked. Of the eight-and-twenty thousand Stormlanders that had first joined my side, only about half remained. My thirst for blood had been satisfied, and I was left with the hollow feeling of knowing that all those who'd died, had died because of my decisions. When I announced I was disbanding our army and returning home to Storm's End, my decision surprised all the lords. The war was still going on and by wasting time I was going be giving Jerion time to recover. But what men I had left were too few in numbers to take King's Landing by force. I only hoped that trying to stabilize what little remained of the shattered realm would keep the boy king busy for a little while.

And so my men returned to their families, as did I. But even before I reached Storm's End, news from across the Narrow Sea brought ill tidings. The weakening of the Stormlands defences hadn't gone unnoticed, and Magister Beqqo Rhegan of Myr had decided to try profit from it. Arming men and preparing a fleet hadn't gone unnoticed, and an opportunistic aristocrat from Myr informed me in hopes of a reward that the destination of that army was indeed going to be the Stormlands. For centuries the Free Cities and Westeros had left one another alone and not contested with each other, but it seemed like new winds were blowing. As the final destination and the date of arrival of the raiding host remained unknown, I deemed unnecessary to raise my army so soon after disbanding it, only making sure that all the coastal lords in the Stormlands were informed of this external threat. I considered Joyeuse trustworthy enough to tell her about the plans the Myrmen had, and she took the news heavier than I'd expected. Though she didn't say it, I understood she feared that the actions Myr was taking could endanger everything she'd built with me so far and make the followers of Rhllor once more a despised minority among the Westerosi folk.

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The killing field outside the walls of Storm's End had been looted through and the slain had been buried, making the place seem unnaturally peaceful to me, having once witnessed it being the gory site of a butchery. I'd been imprisoned and tortured, wounded and suffered. I'd fought and I'd killed, and I'd found peace from the flames. I rode across the field to the ancient fortress, almost thinking nothing else than how my family might react to me having changed by what I'd gone through. But what I didn't come to think of at that point was that they'd changed as well. My boys who I'd barely seen during the last year had grown taller while my daughter was already walking. And my wife - she'd grown even more distant to me. And closer to someone else.

While I was at war, my wife had taken another man into our bed. Had I not been so tired and weary of fighting, I might've gone and killed her lover the moment I got to know about their affair. What made the case even more painful was that Ser Donal Rogers was the husband of my cousin Allyria Martell, daughter of my aunt Myrcella and her dead husband Trystane Martell. I'd kept him fed and given him a roof above his head, and in return he'd not only been unfaithful to my kinswoman but also cuckolded me. Though I despised him for his actions, I also pitied him and Malora both who sincerely appeared to have fallen in love. I realized that killing him might be too much for Malora to handle considering what else she'd already had to go through recently. So I decided choose another path.

Ser Donal and Malora had been foolish enough to keep their affair going on even after my return. One evening I made it loud and clear that I'd be praying with the Red Priestess through the night. Ser Donal took his chances and sneaked to pay my wife a visit, unaware that I'd expected him to do so. As I gazed into the fire with Joyeuse beside me, I was granted my first vision. Where once danced the flames now stood a man, sneaking out of a bedchamber I knew very well. He moved silently in the dark, but men like shadows tailed him and then grabbed him. The man tried to resist and shout for help, but a hand pressed on his mouth muffled all the sounds - and then he was gone, engulfed by the black.

I blinked my eyes and realized just how right Joyeuse was when she told me that the night is dark and full of terrors.

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I knew Malora would get the message, even if I didn't reveal I was behind Ser Donal's disapperance or what had happened to him. Some say ignorance is a bliss, but I was quite sure she wouldn't agree the next day when his absence would be noted.

As I gazed into the flames, I felt I was at peace. But as they say, there's always the calm before the storm.

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Yet another Baretheon follows the lord of light, I really have enjoyed reading this AAR this year. It is truly a great read, What is next for Arry I wonder.
 
To make matters worse, Myr becomes a party pooper. I'm certain you have more loyalist armies to the north, and now this Myr army that needs to be dealt with. Surely you only have so much manpower?
 
It seems that whenever the lions, wolves, eagles, and stags fight, the vultures are never too far behind to prey on the scraps they leave in their wake. There may be little to be done now, but hopefully Myr's perfidy shall not be forgotten.

...Though, of course, undoubtedly loyal followers of the Seven must wonder if it's a fitting punishment for the man who would abandon his own family's gods and try to break the Seven Kingdoms asunder.
 
Hmm, How will Arry's convertion affect his relationship with his allies in future wars?