The Ambitious Stag - A Renly AAR (AGoT)

[Dr Pearceson]

Hello, this is my first AAR and hopefully will go very well.

This AAR will have many POV characters, including Renly himself as he tries a different way to take the Iron Throne.

Because I'm bad at most technical things, there will be no screenshots so hopefully the words I write and my interpretation of the characters the wonderful George R.R. Martin has created will be enough.

This AAR is inspired by both the books of George R.R. Martin (I'm on book 3) and the AAR 'An Arm of Iron.' by OConnor (which I highly recommend.)

Now without further delay, I give you 'The Ambitious Stag'

Chapter One

Brienne​

Brienne strided into the command tent that had been set up and saw that all the other commanders were present. Loras Tyrell, armoured with his pretty face, stood there smirking; helmet under his right arm and his left hand casually gripping the top of his sword. Robar Royce stood near the back of the tent, near a brazier. He too was handsome, but in a more rugged way. He was glaring at Brienne and she knew why. She knew he didn’t approve of a woman being a knight and especially not on King Renly’s Rainbow Guard. Yet here she was, commanding the army of the rightful king. The last member of the group was looking intently over a map of the Stormlands and the Crownlands, where Stannis had gathered some support. He looked up and Brienne locked eyes with Parmen Crane. He wasn't handsome like the others and porbably the least capable fighter there but he held the authority over them. Even though Loras was Lord Commander of the Rainbow Guard, Brienne knew who was in charge.

Loras, however, didn’t. He strutted over to the map-table and cleared his throat. “I now declare this war council meeting has begun.” Brienne sighed at how pompous he sounded and walked over to the table, as did Robar. Parmen merely raised an eyebrow at Loras before talking.

“Thank you for that, Lord Commander” He said, putting contempt into his voice as he said ‘Lord Commander’. “We are in command of over ten thousand men…”

“And one woman.” Robar muttered under his breath. Parmen ignored him and continued.

“…While, if the raven was correct, Stannis only commands six and a half thousand. But the Crownlander Lords Gilbert Farring, Clayton Follard, Jaremy Chyttering and Maric Massey have all declared their allegiance to Stannis. As has Lord Alester Florent, but he is in the Reach and so is of no concern of ours.”

“So what?” Robar asked. “We outnumber Farring, Follard, Chyttering and Massey as well.” Parmen Crane looked up at his Rainbow Guard brother and turned to face him.

“Right you are, Ser Robar, but if we allow them to join forces with Stannis then they will match our numbers.” He put authority in his tone and it was clear that he was belittling Robar.

‘Good thing too.’ Brienne thought. ‘This man has no place on the battlefield. He is more of a political machine than anything. Then again I don’t belong here. I belong at Renly’s side, guarding him. My beloved Renly…’ Brienne’s heart ached at the thought of Renly. Handsome Renly. Noble Renly. King Renly.

Her pain turned to anger as she thought of Renly’s wife. Margaery Tyrell, Loras’ sister and Renly’s Queen. She is said to be one of the most beautiful women in Westeros and one of the smartest. She had probably stolen Renly’s heart. Brienne’s attention returned to the war council as Loras spoke up.

“Thank you for your insights Parmen and Robar, but now is the time is to decided who will command what flanks. As the Lord Commander I think I should…” But before he could finish, Parmen interrupted him.

“I shall take the centre. There I can have a good overview of the battle and thus know where to position our troops. Loras you shall have the right flank. I trust you and I know you’re a good commander. Robar take the left. And Brienne, you shall command the van.”

Brienne was speechless. The vanguard was an important part of any army and commanders only gave it to important members of their command structure. She eventually found her voice “I would be honoured to command the vanguard, Ser Parmen.” She then saw the shocked look on Loras’ face and the outraged one on Robar’s.

“I am… I am the Lord Comman…Commander.” Loras stammered, shocked to have been commanded by his inferior.

“Give a woman the van! Are you out of your mind, Crane? This is insanity! Wait until Renly hears about this!” Robar shouted. “I should take the van, not some lady from Tarth!” Brienne walked over to the shouting man and glared down at him.

“Do you want to duel over the van, Lord Royce. Do you wish to find out why His Grace made me a Rainbow Guard?” Suddenly, Parmen slammed his fist on the table. The tent went deadly quiet.

“I have given my commands.” He said in an angry whisper “If you refuse to follow them, then the king shall be told. Now, we march tonight. I want to be at Storm’s End before Lord Massey or Lord Follard or any of the rest of them can reach Stannis. We’ll crush his army and we’ll kill the heretic. I’ll do it myself if I have to! Now all of you leave and get the men ready.” They turned to leave when Parmen spoke up again. “Brienne, stay.” Robar shot Brienne a look of venom before leaving, with Loras following.

Brienne walked back to the table while Parmen poured out two goblets of wine. He passed one to Brienne. “You wished to speak to me, Ser Parmen?” Brienne asked. Parmen took a drink before answering.

“Do you know why I gave you the van, Brienne?” The question took Brienne by surprise. She didn’t expect Parmen to get her to talk to him about their tactics. He had seemed pretty set on what he wanted to do with the army. She shook her head. He grinned at her. “Look at yourself. You’re Brienne of Tarth. Brienne the Blue. Brienne the Maid…”

“Brinne the Beauty.” Brinne added with a sad smile. She was ugly and tall. A woman no man could love. Not even one as kind as Renly. Parmen gave a short laugh and nodded.

“…Exactly. You’re tall, ugly and strong.” Brienne winced slightly when he said ‘ugly’. She could accept the truth but it still hurt to be heard, especially by one of her brothers-in-arms. Parmen was famous for his honesty. “You’re one of the finest fighters in Westeros. You could probably even give our pretty little Tyrell boy a nice scare. Imagine you’re a foot-soldier of Stannis Baratheon. You see you’re against an army near twice your size and the first wave of opponents you face is led by a massive, ugly beast of a woman. It would break any man.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Brienne asked. She was getting tired of Parmen insulting her. She would hit the man if she didn’t have a grudging respect for him

“So you know why I put you in command. Not ‘veteran’ warrior like Robar Royce or famous Loras Tyrell. I put you, the brutal, tough, deadly, ugly knight who inspires her men and who scares, and kills, the others.” He finishes his wine and puts it back beside the wine jug. “Now get out and get ready, we march in two hours.”

Brienne gives a curt nod and leaves. ‘So that’s all I’m good for. Killing men and inspiring other men to kill men.’ She sighed sadly. No wonder why Renly would never love her, even without his beautiful queen. She walked into her own tent and grabbed her blue helmet and placed in on and over her head. She pulled the visor down. ‘Time to do what I’m good at.’ She grabbed her sword belt, scabbard attached with sword sheathed. She left her tent and prepared herself for war.

 

[Cuban]

Time to get Fabulous! lol

Edit: also, nice writing

 

[unmerged(339449)]

Ahh, this should be interesting.

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Thanks for the replies, heres the second chapter (I'm planning to post the first few chapters up in a span of a few days since all ive played so far is about 4 days in-game)

Chapter 2

Renly​

It was early morning and Renly Baratheon looked over the camp from the walls of Storm’s End that had been set up by his brother. It surrounded the entire castle. Six and a half thousand men, all of them willing to kill him most likely. He laughed at the notion. These walls were impenetrable, Penrose had said. Stannis had held of the entire Tyrell army during Robert’s Rebellion. ‘And now he lays siege to it.’ Renly thought to himself.

“Your Grace” A soft but masculine voice behind said. Renly turned to see Ser Guyard Morrigen ‘The Green’: One of Renly’s Rainbow Guard. The man was dressed in his simple green plate armour with his helmet on, visor up. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own your grace. All it could take is a lone arrow or a night time attack and you would be dead.” The man seemed quite terrified at the idea of any form of attack from Stannis.

‘And what would you do then, my loyal knight? You’re an honourable man, a kind one. Would you never surrender to Stannis or would you bend the knee, let the craven take over.’ Renly thought to himself. Although he knew Guyard was a loyal man, he didn’t trust him fully. All Renly could manage to say was “And wouldn’t that be a great tragedy? The realm robbed of its rightful king.”

“A tragedy indeed Your Grace.” Came a new voice. The two men turned to see who it belonged too, but they both knew who it was. Ser Emmon Cuy ‘The Yellow’ walked over to the king and the other knight. He was dressed in the extravagant golden armour he now wore. “After all, it might lead to me being forced to bow to Stannis.” He said with a smirk. Of all the Rainbow Guard, Renly distrusted Ser Emmon the most. He was deceitful, smart and an envious man. Renly was sure he would stab him in the back if it was to some benefit to him. But Renly couldn’t deny his skill with the sword, nor his martial knowledge.

“And no one wants to bow to Stannis.” Renly replied, with a casual smile. He knew it to be true. He shouldn’t have to worry about being betrayed by these men. They all knew Renly had the best chance of actually winning the war. Everyone loved Renly. Except for his older brother. His bitter, stubborn brother. Renly turned back to the camp. ‘I wonder which tent is his.’ Renly pondered. ‘Which one does he plan and scheme in.’ Emmon Cuy moved beside him.

“We could ride out there, take them by surprise.” Cuy suggested.

“Maybe.” Renly considered the option. There was still the parley today and the council meeting after that. “We’ll discuss this later. After we hear what my brother has too say. Probably something about this new Red God he’s worshipping now.” He took one last look at the camp before walking, with Emmon and Guyard on either side, back to the keep, back to his quarters. ‘Back to my new wife.’ He thought half-amused, half-sad. Maybe he was being harsh. It wasn’t Margaery’s fault she had married her brother’s secret lover. ‘Oh Loras.’ Renly thought, giving a soft sigh. He heard a chuckle behind him.

“Looking forward to seeing your queen, Your Grace?” Emmon teased. Renly smiled.

“Of course, Ser Emmon. Wouldn’t any man be excited in my position?” Renly asked. ‘Any man but me.’ He thought solemnly. Eventually the three men reached Renly’s quarters. “You may leave me now.” surprisingly, Ser Guyard spoke up.

“Don’t you want us to stand guard, Your Grace?” Renly simply shook his head and entered his quarters. And there she was, Margaery Tyrell, the most beautiful woman in the Seven, or Six depending on how you looked at it now, Kingdoms. She was lying there asleep when Renly entered, but his presence seemed to awake her. She sat up and locked eyes with Renly.

“Where have you been my love?” She asked innocently. Renly thought of Loras when she said ‘love’ and laughed inside at her innocent tone.

‘She’s not innocent. She’s a clever, scheming woman. She’s a useful ally but a dangerous threat.’ Loras had told Renly as much and Loras would never lie to Renly. But she would. Renly knew she would. She could play the game almost as well as him. And he had to accept that. “I’ve been walking the battlements, seeing if Stannis will try to deceive us in anyway.” He reported. She stood up and slowly started walking towards him. ‘Not this again. Not now. She’ll ask for tonight to be the night.’ She stood right infront of him, their body’s almost touching. She placed her hand on Renly’s fashionable black and gold robe. She leaned into his ear.

“How about we get you out of that robe, Your Grace.’ She whispered. Renly laughed.

“I would love that, my queen. In fact I will. But I can’t… be with you tonight. I’m exhausted and need to rest. I must be at full strength today to face Stannis.” Margaery stepped back, defeated. She nodded arm walked back to the bed. Renly quickly got changed and joined her. Before long he was asleep.

A loud knock awoke him. Renly shot up instantly. “Who is it?” He shouted at the door.

“Ser Cortnay Penrose, Your Grace. Now get your arse up Renly, we need to get to that parley!” Cortnay Penrose’s powerful voice raidiated through the door. Renly groaned and leapt out of bed. Margaery’s voice spoke behind him.

“May I join you today, Your Grace? If you would allow it.” She asked. Renly spun around and faced his queen. He considered the possible advantages and disadvantages. She would remind Stannis of the fact Renly had the Tyrell’s backing. Stannis could use her to put Renly in a tough position. She could hekp in the parley, Renly knew that she was a good talker. She might push Stannis, insult him. She didn’t know Stannis. Renly did. It might raise questions if his queen didn’t escort him. Renly cursed under his breath at how complicated things were.

“Yes, Margaery, you can join us.” A joyful smile spread across Margaery’s face as she got out of bed. Her handmaidens came through the door, perfectly timed, and began to help her.

After Renly and Margaery were ready, they joined the rest of the party in the courtyard. Ser Emmon and Ser Guyard were both mounted, their horses dressed in the same coloured armour each wore. Ser Cortnay Penrose looked at Renly, anger on his face. If looks could kill, Stannis would have the Stormlands by now. Renly respected Cortnay. He spoke the truth, something Renly didn’t hear very often, especially with Loras and Parmen away. Ser Roland Storm, representing his brother Lord Bryce the Orange, was also mounted. His horse was armour less and he wore simple grey plate. Renly was dressed quite the opposite to Storm.

He was dressed in a fine gold and black piece of armour. On the shoulders, small metal antlers came out. Renly wore a crown of golden antlers intertwined with each other, studded with rubies and sapphires. Margaery was wearing a lush, light green dress with golden flowers decorating it. The stable boy brought over two horses, one for Renly and one for Margaery. The two mounted up, as did Ser Cortnay Penrose. Beside him rode his young squire and Renly’s bastard nephew Edric Storm. Edric trotted over to Renly. “Lord Renly, what will happened today between you and Lord Stannis?”

Renly smiled down at the boy. “I’m not sure, Edric. Hopefully Stannis will see how hopeless his cause is.” Renly looked over the party again and realised someone was missing. “Where’s Lord Alesander?” He called out. Men looked around the courtyard for him but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Here, Your Grace!” A voice called out. Lord Alesander ‘Pennylover’ Steadmon entered to courtyard. He was dressed in simple but stylish garbs. He quickly mounted his horse and rode up beside Renly. “As your Hand, my King, I must request to ride beside you.” Rnely smiled at the man.

‘Already calling himself Hand of the King. He is a bit eager.’ Renly thought. “Of course, my Hand. And Margaery my dear you can ride on my other side.”

“Men! Open gate!” Called out Captain Bonnifer’s shrill voice. He was the Captain of Renly’s guard and a bit ridiculous. But he was a good man and an interesting one. Renly spurred his horse and rode out too met his brother.

Renly’s party met Stannis halfway between Storm’s End and the camp. Renly grimaced when he saw his brother. Stannis was dressed in simple plater armour with a cloth surcoat on. The surcoat had a black stag’s head trapped in a fiery heart. His banner was a similar design. And on his head rested an iron crown with a single ruby on the centre.

“Renly.” Stannis said in that cold tone of his. He did not smile or frown. His face was emotionless. Renly smiled at his brother.

“Hello brother. What brings you to Storm’s End?” He mocked. Stannis gave no reaction, much to Renly’s disappointment. After a tense minute of silence, Stannis’ master-at-arms, Richard Horpe replied.

“He’s here so you can swear loyalty to him and join him in his war to take the Iron Throne.” The parley went silent again. All eyes were on Renly.

“Oh really?” Renly replied, now frowning. “From the looks of it brother, you seem to be sieging this castle.” Some of the men behind him laughed. Once again Stannis didn’t react. However a woman dressed in all red spoke up.

“You shouldn’t mock King Stannis, Lord Renly. He is Azor Azai reborn, chosen by R’hllor. He is destined to take the Iron Throne. I have seen it in the flames. And I saw you by his side, helping your brothers as you should.” Renly took in the woman; how she held herself, how she talked and how she stared at Renly. It was off putting but Renly quickly regained his composure.

“So you’re this red priest we’ve heard about. You do seem very confident in my brother. That means you must not know him very well.” Renly moved his eyes back onto Stannis. “My brother is under the illusion that people want him for their King. He is wrong. No one does. No one loves my brothers. No one understands him. He comes here thinking I will just bend the knee to him because he is older than me? The line of succession didn’t matter when Robert rebelled and it doesn’t matter now. Don’t you see that’s how Baratheons get their lands? Through war and conquest? That’s how Robert did and that’s how I will.” And silence again. All eyes were back on Stannis. Horpe began to reply but Stannis jut raised his hand, silencing him.

After what felt like an eternity, Stannis spoke. “I can see you refuse to bow before me Renly, even if my claim is just and yours not. Which is why I’ll leave you be and let you think over it for one day. Then if you wish you join me in my war, you’ll ride out, alone, and come before me yourself. If you do not do this I will presume you have decided to continue to support your own foolish claim to the throne. And if it comes to that Renly I will have no choice.” Stannis stared intensely at Renly. Renly began to sweat. Something was wrong. It was the way Stannis spoke, He sounded so convinced and so confident.

“I will be forced to destroy you brother. And I will.” Stannis finished, his voice powerful with such conviction Renly almost believed him. It scared Renly. Stannis turned his horse around and rode back to his camp, his party following him.

“Your Grace?” Lord Alesander said, concerned. Renly was tightly gripping his reigns, his castellan looking at him. Renly swallowed nervously.

‘Don’t make a fool of yourself Renly.’ He told himself. He put on his smug smirk. “And to think… I loved him once.” And then Renly rode back to Storm’s End as fast as he could.

 

[unmerged(339449)]

I don't see how Renly is going to avoid getting shadow-babied.

 

[Cuban]

Well Renly is inside Storms End so Meli will have to be smuggled in, but with a large garrison and Renly knowing the routes Davos came through the last time..... we shall see.

 

[Victor227]

I've had an interesting Renly game of my own way back. I'm not sure how the shadowbaby event is configured when Renly is a player-character. Still! All up to that rng, there are plenty of cases where Stannis won't go through with it. I've even had him join me instead.

Keep it up!

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Sorry for the wait, I've been rather busy. Anyway here is chapter three!

Also thanks for the replies

Chapter 3

Emmon​

Renly had been incredibly silent since they had gone back to Storm’s End. He had retreated to his chambers, not allowing anyone in. Eventually Cortnay Penrose asked Emmon and Guyard to retrieve him.

“It seems Stannis has had a bad effect on His Grace.” Emmon said to Guyard as the two walked down the hall.

“Yes, it does seem that way. But I’m sure King Renly has re-gathered his thoughts and now knows what to do.” Guyard told his brother-in-arms, although he didn’t sound very sure of himself. The two reached the door to Renly’s chanber. Emmon turned to Guayrd, sly grin on his face.

“Let’s see if you were right, Ser Green.” He said as he opened the door. Renly was sat upon the End of his bed, crown in hands and not taking any notice of the two men. His face was emotionless, no, meaningless. The hold atmosphere was off putting. If wavered Emmon’s usual confidence.
Guyard was the first one to speak. “Your Grace, we are here to escort you to the council meeting.” Renly did not speak up. Guyard flashed a worried look at Emmon and then took up a firmer tone. “Your Grace, you must go to the council meeting.” Once again there was no reaction. Emmon grew impatient. He walked over to Renly and placed an armoured hand on to the King’s shoulder.

“Your Grace.” He said softly but sternly. “We must go. Finally Renly raised his head and looked at Guyard. His face was pale. There was something disturbing in his eyes. It scared Emmon. “Your… Your Grace, we must go.” He repeated as he hauled Renly up. He took the crown out of Renly’s hands and placed it on his head. Renly nodded slowly.

“Yes. Council meeting.” He said softly, before walking out. Emmon sharply turned to follow, as did Guyard.

The trio reached the council hall when Rolland met them. “Your Grace, Lord Bryce sends word he will be leaving for Storm’s End tomorrow.” Renly, slowly regaining some composure, nodded curtly.

“Good. But I’m afraid he will be of no use against Stannis. By the end of tomorrow, the victor will be decided.” He said, confidence in his voice.

‘But is it false confidence?’ Emmon thought. He was willing to betray Renly to Stannis if this kept up. Renly was showing that under pressure he collapsed. But was there more to it? Had Renly seen some truth in Stannis’ words? Emmon did not know.

Rolland opened the door and the knights entered the room. There was one empty chair at the head of the table reserved for King Renly. On the right of the vacant chair there sat Lord Alesander Pennylover, the self-proclaimed ‘Hand of the King’. On his left sat Queen Margaery, said to be one of the most beautiful woman in Westeros and fully deserving of the claim. She was also the King’s Master of Laws. Further down, next to Pennylover there sat Cortnay Penrose. Emmon, and most men in Storm’s End, had a deep respect for the man. He was a decent fighter, a good steward and a brilliant commander. He was Renly’s chief advisor and the Master of Coin. The chair that was often reserved for the Master-at-Arms wasn’t present, much like it owner Ser Parmen the Purple. Opposite the empty space there sat Maester Aemon. Next to him sat Septa Rohanne, a rather cynical lady whose belief in the Seven wasn’t that strong. Renly took his seat as Emmon and Guyard stood behind him on either side. Next to Rohanne sat the Master of Whispers Hugh Greybeard, drinking wine. Rolland leaned back against the wall, observing the group.

“Your Grace, Ser Parmen reports that the army is on the move and will be in Storm’s End soon. Stannis’ army will be crushed.” Ser Cortnay told Renly determinedly, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis. Both Maester Aemon and Septa Rohanne agreed with him, stating that Stannis’ was now a heretical traitor.

“And not only is your army on its way, Your Grace, but my father’s army is as well.” Margaery added, placing a hand on one of Renly’s.
‘Lucky bastard.’ Emmon thought. What he’d give for a night with Margaery Tyrell…

“Your points are all good ones. But what if Stannis is the lawful king.” Renly said in a shaky voice, trying to retain some form of composure. Cortnay gave him an outraged look, as did Aemon. Rohanne began to protest and Margaery had her mouth open in shock. Alesadner Pennylover stood up.

“This is nonsense King Renly! You have said yourself Stannis is not a worthy leader, not one men would follow. You’re are the rightful King, and I’m your rightful Hand. Rumour has it Stannis would make his onion Hand of the King!” He yelled directly at Renly’s face. Renly looked up, his look one of steel.

“Ser Guyard, please escort Lord Alesander from the meeting.” He said. Guyard instantly strode forward, grabbing Pennylover by the shoulder.

“With me, My Lord.” He told the man. Alesander gave Renly one last look of anger, before turning and storming out, Guyard following. There was a tense silence.

The next person to speak was Hugh Greybeard. “My King, maybe there is another way to win this conflict without violence. I have thought of this way.” He said in his croaky, old voice. Renly leaned in to listen. Emmon raised an eyebrow. Lord Hugh had a son fighting for Stannis and this might of clouded his judgement. Lord Hugh smiled. “Yes, yes. Even though Stannis may not be a fit ruler, he is certainly an accomplished commander.”

Renly grew impatient. “And what of it? He’s a good soldier, but I fail to see how this is relevant.” Hugh gave a chuckle.

“Why don’t you let Stannis win the Iron Throne for you.” Now it was Renly’s turn to laugh. But it was a short, bitter one and not his usual good-hearted one.

“Stannis would never bend the knee to Renly.” Cortnay cut in. “He’s too stubborn, too proud.”

Hugh gave another chuckle. “Yes but he wouldn’t be the one who would be bowing…” And then the entire table erupted into shouting accusations at Lord Hugh. Renly remained silent, apparently deep in thought. Eventually he stood.

“Silence!” He shouted across the table. The room went quiet. Emmon saw an opportunity to speak.

“What I think Lord Hugh here is saying is that you bow to Stannis, and then take the throne by methods more suitable to your skills, my lord.” He suggested. Renly looked up at his Rainbow Guard. He stared at him, unnervingly. Slowly, a grin began to spread on his face.

“I think I understand know. You suggest for me to take my throne by intrigue rather than war?” Renly asked. Emmon could only nod. Suddenly a voice away from the table spoke.

“Your Grace, what you are thinking of is most dishonourable. To bend the knee to your own brother and then to stab him in the back!” Rolland Storm shouted from across the room. Emmon sighed.

“I thought we were in agreement that Stannis wasn’t the rightful king, and so then it wouldn’t really be treason. Would it?” He said, turning to face the bastard. ‘The honourable fool. This could be Renly’s way to take the throne. Is he blind.’

Rolland walked over to the table, head held high and hand on hilt. “King Renly, I must advise you against this action.” He looked around the table for support, but there were murmurs of agreement with Emmon’s and Hugh’s idea. Cortnay Penrose stood up.

“I agree with Ser Rolland. We could crush Stannis but the end of the month and then take King’s Landing in three. It would be easy, Your Grace. Men respect a conqueror more than a schemer.” He told Renly. More objections and arguing. Renly raised his hand.

“My lords, my lady. I have come to a decision.” Renly said “I have never been much of a commander, but a man of court? I have no equal. Thus I have decided I will bow to my brother, and then take the Iron Throne from within the capital. And only you here, along with a few others, will be privy to my plans. I hereby declare this meeting finished. Emmon, go tell Ser Guyard of the change in plans.” Emmon nodded and walked out the meeting hall, grinning at the rising voices of the lords in the room. He saw Ser Guyard down the hallway, causally talking to a guardsman.

“Ser Guyard, a moment alone please.” Ser Emmon requested. The soldier gave a nod and left the two knights. Ser Guyard looked at Emmon expectantly. “His Grace has decided to bow the knee to Stannis and take the throne by other means. And as a member of the Rainbow Guard, he expects you to follow him in this pursuit.” Emmon waited for Guyard’s reaction.

Guyard gave a confused frown. “Seriously? Is this truly His Grace’s decision?” His frown deepened when Emmon confirmed it. “I will follow but I do not approve of this idea.”

“Well we have no choice, King… no, Lord Renly has decided and his mind seems set. Lord Hugh put the idea in his mind.” He said, trying to not associate himself with the plot around his fellow Rainbow Guard who openly disapproved of it. “So now we wait and see how Stannis will handle this.”

 

[Cuban]

Interesting choice on Renly's part, we shall see if it pay's off...

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Chapter 4​

Renly​

Renly held his crown in both hands, a sad smile on his lips. It was a beautiful thing: gold antlers entwined with rubies and sapphires embedded in it. It was incredible craftsmanship. Stannis’ crown, on the other hand, was simple and ugly. Renly remembered how it was grey iron, shaped in the style of flames. ‘Stannis will soon be king. With my help.’ Renly thought bitterly. ‘Although, with luck, I may sit on the throne before the year is done.’

He considered the future. Stannis and his wife wouldn’t have another child and no-one would bow the knee to Shireen Baratheon. Especially with her gallant, handsome uncle Renly. He rset his crown upon the bed and got undressed into simpler clothes. After, he put on his armour. It was a set of good steel, with antlers coming out of the shoulders and the helm. All this work to make him seem like the new Robert… all wasted now Stannis would be king.

He left his chanbers to see Emmon Cuy and Guyard Morrigen waiting for him. Guyard was the first to speak. “Are you sure you don’t want us to accompany you, Your Gra… My Lord?” He asked, fear creeping into his voice. Earlier, Rnely had told them he would meed Stannis by himself with no escort. Renly nodded at the knight. And, as expected, Emmon had a sly remark.

“But, Lord Renly, Stannis might cook you over a fire for his new God. It gets very hot in those suits of armour, you know?” He said, smirk present on his lips. Renly laughed nervously but gave no reply. He moved past the duo, out into the courtyard. His nephew, Edric Storm, was waiting for him.

“Lord Renly, are you going to bend the knee to Lord Stannis.” The boy asked. Renly smiled down at the boy. He looked like a young Robert.

“I will discuss things with Lord Stannis, Edric. I’m sure we will come to an agreement.” Renly said, ruffling the boy’s black hair. The stable boy brought Renly’s horse over, the horse armoured. Renly mounted it and brought his visor down. His hand brushed his sword hilt He would be prepared for any treachery Stannis might have planned. ‘If I die.’ He thought to himself. ‘He dies with me. But who would my vassals follow then. Shireen? Or maybe Edric.’ Renly, spurring his horse into a trot, took one last look at the boy as he rode out.

The ride between Storm’s End and Stannis’ camp was short but lonely. Renly went other all his demands and wishes he would tell Stannis when he was done. As he approached, two knights rode out to meet him. “Halt! Who goes there?” Demanded one of the knights. Renly recognised the voice as that of Ser Narbert Grandison: Lord Hugh’s son.

“I am Lord Renly Baratheon. I’m here to swear fealty to Stannis.” Renly told the two men. He could feel the smirks from underneath their helms.

The second knight spoke. “Come with us.” This voice belonged to Richard Horpe. The two men lead him through the camp. Shouts of ‘Usurper!’ and ‘Traitor!’ were frequent. Renly felt out of place here. He was no commander and men of war didn’t love him.

‘It is the men of court who love me.’ He told himself. ‘And they shall be the ones to crown him.’ Eventually the three men reached a large, fiery red ten with two identical banners, the stag trapped in the heart of fire, on either side of the entrance. Renly dismounted and began to walk towards the entrance. The two men-at-arms guarding the entrance both drew their swords slightly and took a step forward.

“What business do you have with the King?” The one of the left asked suspiciously. Renly raised his visor.

“As you can see, it is I, Lord Renly. I am here to… swear fealty to him.” Renly explained. The man who had spoken simply grunted at Renly but the other man smiled warmly and opened the tent’s flap.

“This was my Lord.” He said. Renly, with his two knightly escorts, entered the tent. Stannis was hunched over a map of Westeros, discussing his plans with a man who, judging by the onion sewn on his simple garb, was Ser Davos; Stannis’ onion. The red woman was there aswell, right beside Stannis.

“…After we’ve dealt with Renly, we’ll crush Joffrey on the field. If I’m right, the boy will be arrogant to think he could take on the might of the Stormlands.” Stannis was saying, not realising Renly was in the room.

“And how do you plan to deal with me, brother?” Renly asked, sly grin on his face. Stannis looked up. His face, as ever, wasn’t amused. In fact it was devoid of emotion.

“Renly, I thought you weren’t going to come.” He told his younger brother, rather bluntly.

‘More like hoped.’ Renly thought. He knew Stannis would prefer to hold the Stormlands personally then have to rely on Renly. Stannis stood up straight and stared right at Renly.

“I presume, since you’re here, you wish to bend the knee to me brother.” He stated, once again bluntly. Renly nodded.

‘Here’s my chance.’ Renly thought. “Yes brother, you are right in that regard. But I have some demands.” Renly loved the confused look that appeared on Stannis’ face. He continued. “I wish to be named your Hand and your heir.” Stannis cocked his head to the side, as if considering which was would be best to kill Renly. Renly shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“But I have already promised Lord Davos to be the Hand of the King. I can’t have two now, can I?” Renly was tempted to say other kings had done stranger but he kept his mouth shut. “And to be my heir? Have you forgot about your dear niece, brother?” He asked in a voice of ice. Renly was getting more nervous. Stannis looked over Renly’s shoulder and gave a slight nod. Suddenly Renly was grabbed by two pairs of arms. Before he could react, he was wrestled to the ground and his helmet removed. Richard Horpe’s and Narbert Grandison’s swords were inches from his face. He could hear footsteps as Stannis moved to stand over him. “I don’t like having demands thrown at me like that, brother. Never do something like that again or I’ll have you punished. Know get in one knee and swear fealty to me.” He growled. Thankfully the two knights moved their swords, allowing Renly to shift himself into the correct position.

He swallowed nervously. “I, Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands and Lord of Storm’s End, swear fealty to you, King Stannis Baratheon, first of his name, rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.” He arose, held a stare with Stannis and turned around to leave. The man at arms who had let him in held his helmet. He handed it over as Renly thanked him. Renly donned the helmet once more and pulled himself on to his horse. He gave the tent a glare of disgust before riding back to his keep.

The moment Renly returned, Alesander Staedmon and Cortnay Penrose rushed to his side. “How did things go Renly?” Cortnay asked the second he reached Renly. He leapt dow from his horse and removed his helmet, dropping it too the floor. He put a hand each on either man’s shoulder and gave them a sad smile.

“Long live King Stannis the Would-be-Brother-Killer.” He said with a laugh. He explained all that happened to the two men, each listening with absolute attention. At the end the two exchanged a worried look. Both of them disliked Renly swearing fealty: Penrose because he despised Stannis for betraying the Seven and Staedmon because he could no longer call himself Hand of the King.

As Renly made his way back to the keep, Margaery exited from the great doors. She ran too his side. “My Lord, pray do tell what happened.” Renly gave a watered down version of the story he gave to his councillors. He needed to tell his wife something.

“My dear, I have an important mission for you. I need you to convince your father to follow Lord Stannis into war against Joffrey. You must leave tonight. I will give you an escort led by Ser Emmon. Please Margaery, I need you to do this. With the Reach, House Baratheon can retake the throne.”

Margeary nodded. “I’ll go get ready and inform Ser Emmon of your plans.” She turned and ran off. Renly sighed sadly.

‘Loras.’ He thought. ‘What would you have done in my position? Have I made the right choice?’

 

[unmerged(339449)]

As a Stannis fan I fully support Renly's decision.

 

[Dr Pearceson]

As a Stannis fan I fully support Renly's decision.

As a Stannis fan, you shouldn't feel too comfortable with Renly's position and goals.

Next chapter will be in the Reach and will introduce several new characters

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Chapter 5

Margaery​

Margaery had found the ride to the Reach dull. Ser Emmon was good company, but the dozen guardsmen Renly had spared for her were extremely dull. She couldn’t even remember their names. So it was a huge relief when she saw her father’s camp as they got closer. ‘It’ll be good to see father again, and Garlan too.’ She thought to herself. Ser Emmon rode up beside her.

“I’ll always be amazed by the army of the Reach. With your father at our side, Joffrey’s days are numbered.” He commented.

“If my father joins our cause.” She replied, half-joking, half-serious. She didn’t know if her father would decide to follow Stannis into war. Stannis and father were complete opposites and Mace Tyrell might not have forgiven Stannis for not surrendering Storm’s End to him back in Robert’s Rebellion.

Margaery spurred her horse onwards. The thirteen men escorting her followed. She kicked her horse to go faster and faster. “You ride like a knight, milady.” Emmon called out from behind her, she looked around and smirked at him. He spurred his horse on to catch up.

“A race then?” She asked, laughing. She forced her horse faster as Ser Emmon caught up.

Eventually the group reached the boundaries of the camp. The guardsmen, seeing that Margaery was leading them, quickly let them through. A mounted knight rode over to them. Margaery recognised him as Willam Wythers. “Queen Margaery, what do we owe the honour?” He asked.

“Lady Margaery, Stannis is the true king as." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Lord Renly has bent the knee.” She told the knight. His face went to one on utter confusion and anger, but he gave no comment. They reached a massive, green pavilion with hundreds of Tyrell gold roses spread across it.

Two knights stood proudly outside the entrance. “Queen Margaery.” They both said, bowing their heads.

“Lady Margaery.” Willem corrected them, anger clear in his voice. “Please escort Margaery inside. Lady Margeary, I’ll take your men to suitable accommodations.”

“Actually, Lord Renly ordered me to stay by Margaery’s side while she is away from Storm’s End or until I receive further instructios.” Emmon told the knight. Willem walked over to the man.

“Well you’ve received your new orders.” He said to Emmon. Emmon looked him dead in the eyes. His hand crept to his blade. Willam quickly grabbed his own sword and drew it. Emmon reacted just as quickly. The air was filled with the sound of swords on leather as Margaery’s guard was surrounded by the knights of the Reach. Then an uneasy silence fell on the camp.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Ser Emmon.” Margaery told the knight. He sheathed his sword, spat at the feet of Willem and followed the knights who offered to escort them. The rest of the guard followed. Willem sheathed his own sword, murmered something about Emmon being no true Reachman before turning to Margaery.

“Milady, please follow me. I’m sure your father will be delighted to see you. And very angry with the news you bring” He led Margeary inside the tent. The tent was decorated beautifully. The furnishings were extravagant: The seats and tables were gilded. The wine-jug and goblets had roses carved on them. Tapestries hanged from the sides. He father sat at the head of a great table in the centre, goblet in hand. He was listening eagerly to the man who had his back to Margeary. However she could tell from the greatsword that hanged from his back it was Randyll Tarly, Lord of the Westmarch. He was said to be the greatest tactician in Westeros. On the right of the table sat her brother, Garlan the Gallant, who was listening to Randyll aswell. He was the first of the three to notice his sister.

“Margaery? What are you doing here?” He asked while running over to her. They shared a quick hug as her father as well. Garlan was dressed in plate armour, sword at his waist. He was one of the finest fighters in Westeros, probably better than Loras.

“Margaery, why are you here?” Her father demanded. She turned to face him while Randyll gave her a ‘Your Grace.’ She swallowed nervously.

“You see father… Renly is no longer king…” She began. But before she could continue her father interrupted her explanation.

“What! Is he dead? Why haven’t we received ravens? Surely we would have been told before hand? Damn Stannis, I’d rather die than watch him be king! We must surely swear fealty to…”

“Father!” Margaery exclaimed. She had to tell him what happened before he could convince himself any further than Stannis was no king. “Lord Renly is alive and well. But he’s seen… the error of his ways and has pledged himself to Stannis.”
The pavillion filled with an awkward silence. Margaery held a stare with her father. She could hear ser Willam shifting on his feet and Randyll Tarly’s face showed no emotion. Her father was red in the face from shouting. Then Garlan began to laugh. He just stood there, laughing like he’d just heard the funniest joke in the Seven Kingdoms.

“What is it?” Father demanded from his second son. Garlan laughed for a while longer before he regained his composure.

“Well… it’s just that this whole time you’ve been talking about crushing Stannis and getting revenge for Storm’s End. But now it looks like you’ll be crowning him instead.” He began to laugh again, but seeing his father’s confused face he felt the need to explain himself. “Stannis and Renly can’t win without you. And you’re bound to Stannis through Renly so now you’ve got to fight for him.”

Randyll Tarly glared at Garlan before speaking. “You may be bound to Renly by marriage, but you owe nothing to Stannis Baratheon. We should stay out of this, see how things play out. If the Baratheons seem to be winning, join them. If Tywin Lannister rides south before clashing with the Young Wolf then join him.” Lord Mace nodded, clearly in agreement with his vassal. Margaery saw she had no choice but to tell them Renly's plan.

“Renly will still be a king.” She told them, forcing confidence into her voice. “His whole life he’s grown up in court. It’s where he belongs. And isn’t court where a king belong?. Warriors aren’t kings, father. Renly will take the throne after Stannis had won it for him. You're not figting for Stannis, you're fighting for Renly!” She could see her father contemplating everything in his head. He beckoned Lord Tarly over and the two discussed things in hushed whispers. After what seemed like an eternity the two turned back to Margaery, Willam and Garlan.

“Margaery, my dear, you have convinced me that Renly will be King and you his Queen. I, then, hearby proclaim that the Reach shall aide King Stannis Baratheon, rightful king of the Andals and all the rest, in his war against the bastard Joffrey… Hill? Waters? Storm? I don’t know, but this time the Reach shall be on the winning side!”

He slammed his fist on the table triumphantly, but noly succed to spill his wine onto his garb. Garlan laughed again while Willam took Margeary out of the tent. He called over two knights to escort her to a tent sutiable for her rank. She however demanded to be taken to the rest of the party from Storm’s End
When she arrived at the tent given to her guard, she felt sorry for her men. It was designed for six men, not thirteen. However she hear laughter from within. She entered and saw Emmon playing a drinking game with four of the guardsmen while the others placed bets. When he saw Margaery, he rasied a finger as if too say to give him a moment as he finished his drink. When he did he gave a happy shout as the rest of the men cheered him on. Finally he got up and moved to Margaery.

“Milady, how do things go?” He asked, drunk from the drink. “Will the fine knights of the Reach, and the terrible ones like Willam, join us on our quest to seat the true king, Stannis, onto that rather uncomfortable chair?” She laughed at his manner of speech as he struggled to stand up straight.

“Yes, my father will help crown Stannis. Now I’ll be off, I don’t want to interrupt your game.” She said. As her knightly escorts led her away, she could hear the men crying out things like ‘Long Live Renly!’ or ‘To King Stannis’ or ‘Death to Joffrey!’ Margaery smiled to herself. The war would certainly be won by Renly, Stannis and her father. And after Joffrey was dealt with, all there was left was Robb Stark. And then there was Tywin Lannister. Yes, Tywin would be a problem. Tywin, Margaery reckoned, would be Stannis’ greatest threat.

“One war at a time, Margaery. One at a time.” She said to herself.

 

[Victor227]

In for a rough time post-victory, if it goes so far! A lot of the time Stannis goes and takes Storm's End from Renly upon winning the war, amongst other things. It's a pesky thing to deal with him. At the very least though, you won't find a shortage of co-conspirators.

 

[Cuban]

The Knights of Summer strike back !

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Chapter 6

Brienne​

Brienne was tired of riding. She had rode all the way to Storm’s End, where she had found out Renly, King Renly, had bent the knee. And now she was riding to Farring’s Cross, the lands of a man she thought she might have had to kill a few weeks ago, to meet the army of the Reach. At least she was by Renly’s side. He was in a poor mood though. She didn’t know exactly what had happened at Storm’s End but Ser Guyard had given her a watered down version.

“King Stannis… scared Renly at the meeting, convinced him too bend the knee.” The knight had told her right before she left Storm’s End. He was staying there under Renly’s orders. He had claimed that a rainbow knight should always be in Storm’s End, but Brienne knew the truth. Ser Guyard was a craven and craven’s had no place on the battlefield. Yet he could fight: He did well enough in the tournament, losing only to Rolland Storm, Lord Bryce Caron’s champion.

It had been a month of riding for Brienne, but they were finally at Farring Cross. It was a huge relief when Brienne first saw the Tyrell banners. They would wait here for a few days, meaning a break from the riding. “I see Margaery’s letter didn’t lie. The entire Reach, man, woman and child seems to be here. No doubt Stannis will want to convert them all.” Renly jested. He joke as much anymore, so even one was welcome. A laugh rippled among the knight.

“My Lord, a rider is approaching. By the looks of that ghastly golden armour, I believe it to be Ser Emmon the Yellow.” Reported Rolland Storm. Brienne sensed there was tension between Rolland and Emmon. And Rolland was right, the rider was Emmon Cuy. He reached the army a few minutes later. He dismounted and bent one knee to Renly.

“Lord Renly, I have urgent news from Lord Mace Tyrell.” He said, removing his helm. Emmon was a handsome man, but no Renly or Loras. His face was covered in sweat and his eyes were full of shock, not his normal playful look. Renly dismounted, concern written on his face. He was thinking what they were all thinking: ‘What has happened?’

He offered a hand to Emmon, who took it. Emmon leaned in to Renly’s ear and whispered his message. Renly gave a small gasp at the news. Whatever had happened, it was important. Renly turned around, his face one of no joy, sadness, anger or calm. It was a deep frown. The news had clearly troubled Renly.

“My Lord.” Ser Parmen said. “I beg of you to tell us what has happened.” Renly locked eyes with Parmen, and he looked over the other three knights with him: Loras, Brienne and Rolland. Then he started to laugh. It wasn’t a dark laugh, a deep one, almost as if Renly had just found out how he was going to die but found it amusing. “My Lord.” Ser Parmen repeated. Renly simply mounted his horse and rod eoff towards the Reachmen army. Loras rode right after him.

Brienne spurred her horse into action. More riding, just what she wanted. Renly’s laugh carried on for a while until it died down. Loras levelled with Renly and the two had a quick conversation. They were good friends, Brienne realised, and for a moment she felt incredibly jealous of Loras. She looked over her shoulder. Parmen, anger clear on his face, was riding after them. Robar Royce and Emmon Cuy where having a conversation while Rolland Storm rode with the other knights who had followed them The Reachmen must have seen the riders approaching since they sent out their own party. As they got closer, Brienne could make them out.

In the centre rode a knight in a beautiful set of gilded green armour, with golden trim. Next to him rode a man in a set of decorated but plainly coloured steel, but his surcoat was green with what might have been two golden roses. He carried the banner of House Tyrell. On the left of Green Armour rode a man in a basic set of steel, yet the way he held himself gave off the aura, even from where Brienne was, of authority. On the right of the banner holder rode a lady. Brienne, much to her disappointment, realised it was Lady Margaery. On the left of the plain armoured man rode a knight who seemed to have a squirrel for his helmet’s crest. Behind them rode a small column of knights.

By the time the two parties met, Brienne had a good idea of who they were. The man in the centre must have been Mace Tyrell. The man with the two-rose surcoat was his second born, Ser Garlan the Gallant. The man on his left was most likely Randyll Tarly. Brienne didn’t know from the armour, more so that Mace always seemed to have Randyll by his side. The other knight, with the squirrel, was most likely Willam Wythers. The central knight removed his helm and sure enough it was Lord Mace Tyrell.

“Lord Renly, is it true that you’ve bent the knee to Stannis? With our two hosts combined…” He began.

“Yes I have.” Renly interrupted. “And I presume since your army isn’t attacking me, you’ve declared with Stannis?" He inquired. Mace Tyrell shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.

“We have the ravens prepared, we were just waiting for your confirmation. And I trust Ser Emmon gave you my message.” He said, glaring at Ser Emmon, who had rode up beside Brienne. Emmon murmured something not to complimentary about the Lord of the Reach.

“I have. And is it true? Are you sure it’s not a lie spread about by the Northmen?” Renly asked. Brinne was dying to know what had happened. Had Robb taken the capital? Had Balon Greyjoy declared with the Young Wolf? There were so many possibilities.

Randyll Tarly spoke for his Lord. “Yes, it’s true, we had three letters: One from the North, one from Casterly Rock and one from King’s Landing. Tywin Lannister is dead.”

The meeting went quiet, except for the murmur that spread around by the knights behind Brienne.

“How?” Ser Parmen demanded. Randyll Tarly looked at him, not used to such tone being used by his inferior.

“Ser Parmen, I trust your father is well? Not that you would know, you’re too busy in the Stormlands and not here, leading your fellow Reahmen.” Randyll quipped. The sentence had nothing to dowith the news but it was obvious what the message was: Randyll Tarly didn't approve of men like Parmen Crane and Emmon Cuy 'abandoning' the Reach. Parmen seemed to be going for a reply when Garlan raised his hand for silence.

“Yes, Tywin is dead." He began. "Of course by now rumours have been spread: Robb Stark turned into a direwolf and ate him, the ghost of Harren the Black killed him, his own brother did it and so on. But we know the truth. While in battle with the usurper Robb Stark, Tywin Lannister met with Brynden Tully, also known as the Blackfish, and fought him in personal combat. Needless to say, Tywin Lannister was slain by the Blackfish.” The new of Tywin’s death had surprised Brienne, but the fact he was slain by the Blackfish didn’t surprise her. Brynden Tully was a skilled warrior, much better than the likes of Tywin Lannister.

“And what of Ser Jamie?” Renly inquired further. “Is it true he’s escaped the Young Wolf’s dungeon?” Mace nodded.

“Yes, some trick the Imp came up with. And guess how the Kingslayer repays his little brother? Anyone? You, my love?” Margaery asked with a beautiful smile, building up to some humorous sentence.

“How?” Brienne asked, forcing politeness in her voice. Margaery was a schemer, and a good one. None of these men saw it, but Brienne saw it now. The way she was dressed was suggestive but fitting for a lady of her rank. Her voice was soft, playing with the men. She used her beauty as a weapon. All these men just viewed her as a pretty face. ‘Damn this woman. She’d sell Renly to Joffrey if she saw benefit in it. Her whole family would. Except maybe Loras…’

“Well, Lady… or do you prefer Ser, Brienne.” A laugh was heard among the meeting. They all laughed, even Renly. Only Ser Parmen Crane remained silent

“I prefer Lady, milady.” Brienne said, giving a small nod of the head.

“Well Ser Jamie has claimed the Westerlands as his father’s heir. The Imp also claims it, as he argue Jamie can’t take it since he’s the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

Renly laughed. “Well it seems the game has changed. A few weeks ago, the Baratheons fought each other and the Lannisters fought side by side. Now it is the opposite. But enough of the Lannisters, we’ll be seeing enough of them when we take the capital.”

“Indeed.” Randyll agreed. “But we must talk of the war. I believe that thus boy king is reckless enough to rally his armies and try to crush us in battle. We march on the capital now, without Stannis, and take the city. Then we crush the North, the Riverlands and anyone else who tries to rebel against our… good king Stannis.” There was so much conviction in his voice that everyone agreed.

“It is settled then.” Mace Tyrell said. “We march on the capital and show the Joffrey how real men fight!” Ser Emmon stifled a laugh.

“Lord Renly.” Parmen got his lord’s attention. “We should ride back to the army. Every moment we waste gives the Lannister’s another to prepare.” Renly nodded, smile on his lips. He turned around and rode off. Brienne gave chase. It was good to see him getting his confidence back, yet it was also a worry.

‘What if he follows Tywin to the grave?’ She thought.



POST CHAPTER SUMMARY

So some big news dropped this chapter. I wish I could say that I had the imagination to have had Tywin and Brynden fight when in reality Tywin only died in battle, in-game. But it's true: Brynden did slay Tywin Lannister in-game

Also I know some (all) of the chapters have been meeting and such, but the next few chapters is when things heat up (maybe even literally)

 

[Victor227]

Any screenshots of the whole affair so far? Territory and so on?

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Any screenshots of the whole affair so far? Territory and so on?

Sorry, I forgot to take screenshots of the game and i've already played a lot of it.

Plus I've never been really able to implement screen shots into a post very well and i think having links to my steam would ruin the chapter. i might start including screenshots in a post chapter summary and i'll definitely do a big overview of whats going on in westeros after part 1 is done

 

[Dr Pearceson]

Chapter 7​

Emmon​

The combined forces of the Stormlands and the Reach had reached King’s Landing. Emmon had been thankful to get away from the army of the Reach. He wasn’t too popular among some lords for ‘abandoning the Reach’ because he went to serve their King. He was currently riding alongside some knights of the Stormlands. He had never seen the capial before and it was simply awe-inspiring. Its massive walls, the bay, and the three hills. Such a shame that it had to be sacked.

Below the walls of King’s Landing sat the camp of Joffrey’s Army. Scouts had reported roughly nine thousand men had rallied to the capital. Emmon suspected that the Lords of the Crownlands didn’t give their full support and men to Joffrey: they wanted to see how things would play out. It seemed certain they had made the right move. The combined army of the Reach and the Stormlands numbered over twenty thousand. The battle would be short and bloody.

Emmon was distracted from his pre-battle analysing by Ser Rolland Storm riding over to him. “Ser Emmon, Lord Renly has requested you join him and the other Lords in the command tent.” Emmon nodded curtly.

“Will you be joining us, Ser Rolland? Will you be there to remind us how terrible we all are for seating Stannis on that ghastly iron chair?” Emmon questioned, evidently annoying Rolland. The other knight gave no reply, but turned around and rode off. Emmon quickly followed.

The temporary command tent was small and simple. Two banners hanged outside: The crowned stag of House Baratheon and the golden rose of House Tyrell. Emmon quickly entered and looked over the men who had gathered in the tent: Ser Robar Royce, Ser Parmen Crane, Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Garlan the Gallant, Ser Rolland Storm, Ser Willem Wythers, Lord Renly Baratheon, Lord Randyll Tarly and Lord Mace Tyrell. It was an interesting gathering of men. There was also one woman: Brienne of Tarth. Some of the finest fighters and commanders in Westeros were gathered here. And who did Joffrey have? His two uncles, one of which was his father. In Emmon’s eyes, Joffrey was a bastard as much as Rolland. He had seen Edric Storm: a boy who looked so much like Renly, who apparently looked like Robert.
Randyll Tarly called for silence. “Right.” He began. “Let’s get this meeting started…”

About half an hour later, the meeting was done. The plan was simple. Surrond the army with half of the infantry, then send in the cavalry and the rest of the infantry to route the army. The surrounding half of the infantry will kill and survivors. It would be a massacre.

The Rainbow Guard had been divided. Loras and Parmen would take the left, Brienne and Robar would accompany Renly down the centre while Emmon and Rolland, who technically wasn’t a Rainbow Guard but was a much greater fighter than his brother Bryce Caron, would go right.

By the time the men were ready, the sun was setting. Joffrey’s commanders must have seen that the battle was coming, since all nine thousand men of the opposing army seemed to be mustered. Emmon took his place in the ranks of knights he, Garland the Gallant and Rolland Storm would be commanding. His golden armour shone in the dying sunlight. Garland rode out in front of the men.

“A false king sits on the Throne! He is said to be a monster, harming his queen-to-be and killing the people of the realm. You, as good men of the Seven Kingdoms, of Westeros, surely fight with me to depose this man and put the true king on the throne! For Stannis!” he shouted. The men took up his call, Emmon among them. And then they charged.

Emmon had never been in a battle before. The bards always made them seem like great events: where Knights fought for honor, where men led others to heroism and where the true and just prevail over the wrong. They were made to seem calm and collected. The moment Emmon began to charge he knew it was all lies. He saw the lines of smallfolk lined up at the front, waiting for the knights. The call of ‘For Stannis!’ continued to ring out over the ranks of men. Emmon saw the enemy getting bigger and bigger. The enemy ranks became unorganised as panic and fear washed through the men. Emmon gave one last prayer to the Warrior. He gripped his sword slightly firmer. They were only moments from impact with the enemy. Emmon counted down in his head.

‘Five.’ The screams of ‘For Stannis’ were getting louder.

‘Four.’ He could hear commanders behind the enemy lines shouting orders like ‘Hold rank.’ Or ‘Get in line.’

‘Three.’ He saw the look of fear in the eyes of one young boy, right at the front, spear in hand. He must have been seventeen, maybe younger.

‘Two.’ Emmon prepared him sword for the first swing.

‘One.’ Emmon’s horse collided with two men and he brought his sword through the young boy. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he swiped, struck, lunged and stabbed at the men of Joffrey’s army. The first few ranks of the enemy broke and ran. Those who stayed to fight were cut down. A horn sounded out somewhere.

“Men, form ranks.” Garlan’s voice called out in the chaos. Emmon looked up from the man who he had just cut the thoat of. The knights of Joffrey, led by a man in white armour and white cloak, were charging at them.

“For Stannis! For Renly! Death to Joffrey!” Emmon screamed, kicking his horse into a gallop. His fellow knights followed him. The two forces of knights met and more chaos exploded across the battlefield. Emmon crossed blades with some knight. The two fought for and time stood still. The clash of steel rang out. Then the other knight let down his defences and Emmon struck with all his might. His blade went through the plate armour and shot out the other end. Emmon tore out his blade and watched with satisfaction as the enemy fell to the floor.

A sudden movment to his right caught his eye and he ducked as a mace flew over his head. With a quick slash of his blade, his cut of the hand of his attacker, who screamed out in pain. His screams stopped when another knight rode him down, decapitating him. The ranks of smallfolk of Joffrey’s army had regrouped. Emmon stole a glance over his shoulder and saw their own infantry advancing on the battle.

The battle raged on and Emmon lost all track of time. He couldn’t remember how many he killed, how many he saw die or how many screams for mercy he heard. The opposing army seemed to notice how lost their cause was and finally broke. Some men ran away from the city in all directions, unaware of the men who awaited them in ambush. Others fled back to the city gates, begging for to be let in. While Emmon stayed back, others, knights and smallfolk alike, descended on the men like a pack of hungry wolves.

“This is most dishonourable.” A voice behind him complained. Emmon looked around and saw, judging by the plain set of armour and nightingales on his shield, Rolland Storm. Emmon trotted over to him.

“Let the men have their fun. They…” Emmon gestured to the men being slaughtered. “Would have done the same to us.” Rolland grunted in reply. Then more shouts were heard and they turned to see men bringing up ladders. A knight rode over to them.

“The battle isn’t done yet.” He said the, his voice one of elation. Suddenly an arrow appeared in one of his eyes and he fell back, dead. Emmon cursed and raised his shield, as did Rolland. Men placed the ladders against the walls as a ram was brought up.

“Wall or streets?” Emmon asked Rolland, grinning even though Rolland couldn’t see him doing it.

“There are archers killing our men on the walls. We better kill them.” He stated bluntly. He dismounted and rushed over to one of the ladders. Emmon quickly followed. Emmon quickly got to the top and saw dismembered bodies everywhere. Rolland was busy fighting. He slammed his shield into one archers, pushing the poor man over the walls. He brought his sword in an upward curve, slicing a man in half.

Emmon himself was confronted by two archers. Both drew short swords and attacked him. Emmon quickly parried their blows and easily sliced the chest of one, killing him. The other, either stupid or brave, charge in. Emmon pushed the blows aside with his shield before stabbing the man in the stomach. The men cheered as they saw the walls were theirs. Emmon lifted his visor and smiled grimly at Rolland.
“Dirty work, isn’t it?” He asked, trying to get Rolland to laugh. Instead he was given a cold star from behind the helmet. Then came a cry from one of their men. A spear had been shoved through his chest. Suddenly, the City Watch rushed onto the walls. Emmon and Rolland called their men to them as both sides were covered in Goldcloaks. Emmon found himself back-to-back with Rolland. “Well this will be enjoyable.” He whispered. Rolland gave a quick grunt of disinterest. The Goldcloaks surged forwards and attacked the small force of Emmon and Rolland’s men. The group fought with a ferocity, fighting off push agter push. However, after the fifth attack from the Goldcloaks, only Emmon and Rolland remained.

There were only four city watch on both sides left, but they seemed to be the toughest the watch had to offer. One came forward at Emmon, cudgel in hand. He brought blow after blow on Emmon, who blocked them with his shield. Another watchmen, this one with a spear, lunged at the knight. He quickly parried it. The other two circled behind him. He heard a death cry and a spear falling to the floor. The Goldcloak with the cudgel came at Emmon again, but this time he dodged to the side and stabbed through the man’s side, piercing his heart. He had barely enough time to get his sword out as the next Goldcloak, also with a cudgel, attacked. Emmon blocked his blows at stuck his helmet off. He then managed to slice thorough his thigh and smash his unguarded head onto the stone walls.

Emmon spun around, only to be forced to jump back as a spear stabbed at him. The two remaining watchmen, both with spears in their hands, approached. He looked over to see Rolland shove his blade through a man’s throat and quickly whipping it out and bringing it down through another man’s chest. His last watchmen held a sword in his hand. Emmon quickly looked back at his adversaries, one of which was stabbing at him. His parries became a blur and his blocks pushed the attacks away, then he quickly parried and stabbed the man in the stomach, before tearing it out from the side.

The last Goldcloak stood back, waiting for Emmon to approach. Emmon rushed in, pushing the spear to the side with his shield and stabbed the man right through the chest. Emmon took a moment to breathe steadily before pulling out his sword. He turned to see Rolland cut the sword-using Goldcloak in half. Emmon removed his helm and smiled at Rolland. “Well, Ser Rolland, was that more appropriate to your tastes?” He asked.

Rolland removed his helm and glared at Emmon. “It had to be done. It’s a shame about our men, they seemed like a good lot. Now we need to get to the Red Keep before the Tyrell men. No doubt Mace Tyrell would be happy to have Joffrey as his prisoner." Emmon nodded and donned his helmet again and the two ran down the walls to the streets.

The city was ablaze from the looters, and the screams of men, women and children alike could be heard. The sparks and smoke rose into the starry night sky. It was almost beautiful. The two knights continued their way through the capital. A gruff voice called out. “Ser Emmon? Ser Rolland?” the duo turned to see five knights. The centre had a surcoat that Emmon recognised as one that belonged to a knight he rode with. If he recalled correctly he was Ser Jon of something. “I believe it to be safer if we travelled together.” Jon said. Emmon and Rolland couldn’t help but agree.

Jon’s hunch seemed to be a good one as a few streets later. They turned a corner to see a dozen men dressed in armour, with red cloaks. The Lannister household guard. They stood there, swords in hand. Behind them, moved a man who Emmon couldn’t see very clearly. He seemed to be dressed in white. Emmon looked at his companions and nodded. They charged forward.

The guards went down easily enough. Emmon quickly sliced the neck of one man, before cutting the arm off another and gutting a third. However, right as he cut down the last man there was a flash of white and one of Emmon’s knights fell back, blood pouring over his armour. A second knight was quickly stabbed through the chest.

A third tried to fight the man who had entered the fight, but was disarmed and decapitated. Emmon finally got a good look on the man. He was dressed all in white: white armour, white cloak. His shoulder-guards were designed after lion heads. His surcoat was crimson red with the Lannuster gold lion on it. Emmon froze as he reliazed who they were against. One of his companions clearly didn’t and threw himself at the white knight, who quickly killed him. Only Emmon, Rolland, Jon and the white knight remained.

“Jamie Lannister. I heard you fought in gold armour.” Emmon commented, holding his sword out. Rolland shifted from foot to foot while Jon growled at Jamie.

“Yes, but I heard someone else had already taken the colour for this battle. I must say it suits me far better than it suited you.” Jamie Lannister said dryly. He had used past tense for Emmon. Clearly Jamie already considered them dead.

“Enough talk.” Jon growled. “Let’s finish this.” He charged wildly at Jamie, who was probably smirking under his helmet. He feigned being beaten back before slicing down Ser Jon.

“What a poor group of knights. I hope you two fair much better. Let me see who you are. You’re clearly one of Renly’s Rainbow Guard, judging by the armour. And you, I have no idea who in Seven hells you are.” Jamie said to Rolland.

“Seven Hells is where you’re destined for, Lannister.” He replied. Emmon smirked grimly

“Good reply, Storm. You see Lannister, I am Ser Emmon Cuy, member of Lord Renly’s Rainbow Guard. My fine companion here is Ser Rolland Storm, bastard of Nightsong.” Emmon informed the Kingslayer. He then turned to Rolland. “Together.” Rolland nodded.

They both ran at Jamie Lannister, who easily parried their charging attacks. Emmon continued to attack, as did Rolland. All that was heard was steel in steel. The blades met again and again. The Kingslayer seemed untouchable: No matter where Emmon attacked from, Jamie parried or dodged. He was unlike anything Emmon had ever seen. Emmon fought with even more fury. Suddenly Jamie leapt back. “Well, you two together make some sort of competition. Not much though,” He mocked.

“Die, you incestuous monster!” Rolland shouted and charged again. Jamie, probably feeling over confident that only one of the two knights had attacked, lazily parried. However he quick;y realized Rolland was a skilled fighter and Emmon was rushing forward to help. He rabbed the straps of Rolland’s armour and tripped him over, making him tumble to the floor. Emmon quickly lunged, not allowing Jamie to finish off Rolland.

“Very well, I won’t kill him yet.” Jamie said, crossing blades with Emmon, slowly gaining the upper hand. “Although, I’d rather be called ‘Bastardslayer’ than ‘Kingslayer’. Don’t you agree?” Emmon replied by bringing his sword down in an arc. Jamie easily parried and shoved into him. Emmon fell to the floor, rolling back. He heard more swords clashing, meaning Rolland was back on his feet.
Emmon picked himself up again and re-joined the fray. Jamie Lannister now had one knight facing him and one behind him, but he didn’t seem to care. He easily spun around to meet each knight when it was required. He was unlike anyone Emmon had ever faced. Fear shot through Emmon: he had though that him and Rolland could of beaten the Kingslayer, but it seemed unlikely. Rolland was pushed back again and Jamie focused on Emmon. He pushed Emmon back, not allowing him a moment’s break. He then somehow managed to get behind Emmon and slice his sword against the back of Emmon’s left leg.
Emmon shook with pain and stubled forward, only to have Rolland rush part him, back at Jamie.

Jamie parried every blow, pushed Rolland’s sword arm to the side and slashed at his side. Emmon struck at Jamie again, who easily blocked the attack. “I must say, you two are rather well trained. Better than half of my Kingsguard brothers.” Jamie pointed out. “But I’ll kill you all the same.” He launched a furious attack against Emmon, who could barely block the attacks. He rolled to the side and saw Rolland. An idea popped into his head. He held up his hand, gesturing to Rolland to stay still. Emmon forced himself up, his leg on fire from the pain. He turned around, quickly parrying Jamie’s next attacks. He moved back, back to Rolland. All the while he was given the toughest fight of his life. Jamie was a god among men when it came to fighting. His sword struck Emmon’s helmet, cutting through the metal. The attack was slowed by the helmet but his cheek was slashed open. Emmon yelled in pain but conituned to maintain his defences Emmon had moved back. He took a small leap back. Jamie stopped his relentless onslaught for a second.
“Most impressive, Ser Emmon. You’ve lasted longer than most, but I’m afraid this game must come to an end. You’ll die now Ser Emmon. Dying in the city you helped sacked.” Jamie said. He gripped his sword in both hands, preparing to lunge into Emmon.

At the last moment Emmon threw himself to the side, watching Jamie lunge at air. Rolland threw himself up, blade in hand. He took advantage of Jamie’s awkaward positioning and managed to disarm the Kingslayer. He then used his might to throw Jamie to the floor. He flipped open Jamie’s visor with his foot and placed a sword at his throat.

Emmon moved up beside him, placing his sword at Jamie’s throat as well. Rolland flipped his own visor up and gave Emmon a smile. “Well, Emmon, I think we just bested the Kingslayer.”

BAD NEWS: AKA I'M AN IDIOT

So, this is funny... i may have deleted my ck 2 folder on my pc deleting all my mods and saves... so the story shall end within a few chapter and to have no continuation. thanks for all the advice and such