The Crowned Stags - A Game of Thrones Mod

[MattSR30]

CHAPTER IV - THE KING'S JUSTICE

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As Robert had requested, the Small Council convened in the chamber but an hour after Ser Balon Swann had been ordered to gather them. First to arrive was the King's brother, Stannis, never one to shirk his duties. Last to arrive was Septon Andren, the journey from the Great Sept taking longer than the other councilors' trips from within the Red Keep. By the hour's end, ten men had joined Robert in the Small Council chambers, where they would set out to determine what was to be done with the last remnants of the Targaryen loyalists. Robert wasn't a fool, contrary to what many pro-Targaryen lords would have whispered during the rebellion. He knew that half the room would be made up of those utterly loyal to him, and half of the room would be those who had fought against him. After all, that was why the traditional seven-member council was expanded to eleven, as to properly accommodate those on the losing side of the war, to consolidate his rule.

When the Master of the Faith had finally taken his seat at the table, business began. Robert stood to address his fellow council members.

"My lords," he spoke, "I have called you here to inform you of my brother's success in the Stormlands. Stannis has rooted out Lords Connington and Hasty, and is bringing them to the capital to face the King's justice. However, a king that acts without the advice of his advisers is a rash and reckless king, and so I have decided that it is within our best interest to leave this matter to the Small Council. What is to be done with these men, my lords? Give voice, let your opinions be heard so that we might best come to a conclusion."

Some of the men in the room with Robert had served on Aerys' Small Council, and so it must have come as a shock to them be offered the chance to voice their own opinions. They say that in the final days of his reign, the Mad King listened to no voice but the one inside his head. A Small Council with no room to give counsel. Robert would not repeat the same mistakes that brought about the end of the greatest dynasty the world had ever known, and certainly not within the first few months of his reign. No, he was smarter than that, enough time with Jon and Ned had seen to that. Though he had not shown it in his youth, Robert had always commended the ways of Jon and Ned, and perhaps now as king, he might hope to emulate such fine men.

"Take their heads, your grace." Came a voice to Robert's left. The Master of Coin had given voice to the words. "They have refused your offer of peace, and have taken up arms against their new king. That is outright treason, your grace. The Stark lords were put to death for less."

Lord Qarlton Chelsted spoke frankly and with anger in his voice. Perhaps he still bore the Targaryens ill-will for his resignation from Aerys' Small Council. Yet, Robert could not help but see the irony in the Master of Coin's words. As explained by the Master of Coin himself, he had left his position on the Small Council when Aerys Targaryen made known his intent to burn down King's Landing. Lord Chelsted could not condone such an act of ruthlessness then, and yet now he gave voice to another form of ruthlessness.

"I agree with Lord Chelsted." Spoke Grand Maester Agrivane. "Lords Connington and Hasty have committed treason. As I'm sure Prince Herbert will tell you, the law for treason is death. If we are to uphold the law, then we must abide by the law, and the law states death."

"Half the bloody realm fought against the king in the war, should we all die as well?" The words this time came from Baelor Hightower, or Brightsmile as some called him.

"A different matter entirely." Replied the Master of Coin. "You fought for your king, Lord Baelor, not against him. Regardless of your side, loyalty cannot be faulted."

"And yet you would fault the loyalty of these lords now? Lord Connington is one of Rhaegar Targaryen's greatest friends, his loyalty was never in question. You speak as if you stand on firm ground, my lord, and yet you lack the footing to do so." Baelor was getting noticeably angry at the suggestion of execution.

He has a point, Robert thought to himself. Lord Connington and Lord Hasty were both upholding their loyalty to the men they had sworn that loyalty too. Yes, those men were Aerys and Rhaegar Targaryen, but the whole damned war had started because of Jon's loyalty to Robert and Ned, and his refusal to hand them over to the Mad King. And yet, Robert knew that justice had to be served, otherwise, every man in the Seven Kingdoms could do as he pleased, fearing no consequences and seeing no repercussions. It was a difficult decision to make.

Prince Oberyn Martell spoke next, in support of Lord Baelor. "Breakwind is right," he said, etching even more anger on the face of the Hightower lord. "I would not see them die for their actions."

"And what would you have then, Prince Oberyn?" Robert asked.

"I would have you show an act of kindness, your grace, an act you had shown my sister and her children. Let them leave Westeros, let them live out their days in the pleasure houses of Lys, let them be free of this country, and you of them."

"Here here." Lord Lucerys Velaryon seconded Prince Oberyn's suggestion, an act of little surprise to any in the room.

"You fought for the Mad King, Prince Oberyn, it comes as little surprise that you would say such a thing." Kevan Lannister said, in opposition to the Red Viper's proposal.

"And you did not fight at all." Came Oberyn's reply. "Tell me, what kind of lion is it that refuses to fight?"

Rumblings of laughter escaped from a few of the men in the room, even Baelor Brightsmile showed how he came to possess the name. A clear division could be seen in the room, one side loyal to the Targaryens, wanting mercy, the other loyal to Robert, wanting death. With no mutual feelings between the two sides, the conversation was going nowhere, and so Robert stepped in to make his own feelings known.

"Half of you want me to kill the men, the other half of you want me to do nothing." Robert said with authority, putting his foot down. "Stop the bickering and start working towards a solution, we're getting nowhere. Lords Connington and Hasty will be punished for their treason, those of you who counselled otherwise can help me decide how, not if. Those of you wanting death, remember how the damned war started. The Mad King killed any man that disagreed with him, I won't follow down the same path. Another punishment will have to do."

Jon Arryn, Robert's closest adviser and Hand of the King, finally spoke, having listened carefully to the points the other council members had made. "The Wall is always in need of good men, Robert, and Lords Connington and Hasty are nothing if not good men." He said. "Lord Jon is a fine soldier and born leader, and Lord Barristan is of the thinking type, possessing a sharper tongue than blade. Both soldiers and thinkers are needed on the Wall, and it would serve as a suitable punishment for them both."

"It would be a slight against their houses!" Protested Lord Velaryon.

"A greater slight than taking their heads?" The Spider's retort shut down the dissent of the Master of Ships.

"The First Men view serving in the Night's Watch as a great honor, your grace." Spoke the Lord Commander, himself of First Men descent. "If the Conningtons and Hastys had any sense about them, they would view such a sentence as a gift from the Gods."

"The Lord Commander is right." Spoke Prince Herbert, "Send the men to the Wall, let them see out their days in service to the realm. The men themselves will be punished, and yet their families cannot say you did not treat them with some form of respect. Taking their heads would only serve to alienate them further. This is the right course of action."

Robert nodded to his kinsmen, before looking around at the other men in the room, one eyebrow raised as if to coax an opinion out of them. Kevan Lannister nodded in agreement, and Baelor Hightower followed suit.

"Well, it's better than nothing." Joked Prince Oberyn. "Tell us, what do the Gods have to say about all this?"

Everyone turned and looked to Septon Andren. The Master of Faith was a slothful man, and had been paying little attention. He was seemingly startled by the mention of the Gods, and knew he had to say at least something, to not appear utterly incompotent.

"The... the Gods would... would see it as a fitting punishment... for the uhhh... crimes... committed. The uhhh... Faith... stands behind your decision... your grace."

Robert nodded. "Very well, it's settled then. Grand Maester, draw up letters to be sent to House Connington and House Hasty at once. Inform them of our decision here. When my brother returns, I shall bring the men before me where I will personally deliver the verdict. They will depart for Castle Black when the sentencing is complete. Unless there is anything else, you are all dismissed."

The men said their pleasantries to the king and took their leave. Robert remained in his chair, wresting his forehead in his hand. His decision to build the Small Council that he had had created tension in the room, and would likely do so for some time. Yet, it was a necessity to unite the realm under him. He hoped that by punishing the men, he had appeased those who had remained loyal to him throughout, and yet by letting them live, he hoped to appease those who had fought against him in the war- and beside the men destined for the Wall. Just one of a lifetime of difficult decisions destined for a king, he thought. How fun.

 

[MattSR30]

Sorry for the length of time between posts, just visiting with family, and sorry for the relatively-slow nature of it, it's sometimes hard splitting up events in the game into chapters that make sense.

Also, what is up with the font size? It's like the default font size on the website is 3.5 or something. I put it to 4 and it's too big, put it to 3 and it's too small. As someone who likes everything to look the same, this is hurting my brain.

 

[Saxon125]

Great chapter, nice to see Robert asserting his authority and not sitting on his arse.

 

[MattSR30]

CHAPTER V - THE GAMES

It had been near a year since Lyanna was returned to Robert's arms, and six or so moons since she had started to show signs of her pregnancy. Robert had taken her maidenhead, thank the gods- there was not a day that passed that Robert didn't thank the Seven for Rhaegar being foolish enough to march north, ignoring Lyanna whom he had left in Dorne- and in return she had now gifted him with a child of his own. Late in the evening, the midwives and Grand Maester Agrivane were called to the King's chambers, as Robert and Lyanna's child was on it's way into the world. Near fifteen hours later, Robert had a son.

It was an unusual thing, Robert shying away from blood. His whole life all he had ever wanted was to fight things, to be bloodied in battle, yet the sight of so much blood around his sweet winter rose was too much for him. It was, of course, natural, or so the midwives said, that so much blood would accompany the birth of a child, but Robert could hardly believe his eyes. He had seen men cleaved in two in the war, but white bed linens stained red being whisked away widened his eyes beyond any of the atrocities he had seen during the rebellion. When Lyanna finally came to rest after the delivery, she looked at Robert- in his bewildered state- and laughed. "Men." She remarked, heavy of breath. "Always eager for blood in battle, never when it comes naturally."

After Agrivane had delivered the child, and the midwives had cleaned him up, they handed him over to Robert. The boy was black of hair and blue of eye, the child looked every bit a Baratheon, but had the cold beauty of Lyanna in him as well. Robert had a son, and an heir. Thinking back to his own childhood, it did not take long for Robert to decide a name. Staring into his son's eyes, Robert made a silent vow to the gods then and there, to always be there for his children, to the day of his death. His own father was taken away from him when he was young, leaving him with the responsibility of caring for Stannis and Renly. The name was an homage to them.

"Steffon?" He said inquisitively, in the direction of Lyanna's bed. "How about Steffon?"

"It works." Lyanna responded with a grin. Robert had loved Lyanna from afar for many years, but being wed to her, he was starting to learn her true nature. She was feisty, wild. It appeared as though Ned was right, all those times he told Robert that the wolf-blood flowed strong through her veins. Robert did not mind, in fact, it only made him love his wife more. After all, he thought, every rose has its thorns.

To celebrate Steffon's birth, games were organized by the King. Nothing large, nothing grandiose, just simple games, to be attended by friends, family and those at court. Robert was making a conscious effort to be less... extravagant than he had been as Lord of Storm's End, instead trying to take the more humble path. Yet, he still loved a good fight, and every now and again he liked to prove why it was the Targaryen family feared him as they did. He organized a few events to test the strength of his friends and members of court- a spear toss, the victor throwing their's the farthest; wrestling, the lose being the first to be pushed from the area three times; and a fight, the lose being the first to yield. Robert would not admit it out loud, but he was looking forward to it, he hadn't hit something in a long while.

The day's games started off with the wrestling. Robert did not compete, "worried he'd embarrass the others", was his excuse. Instead, a handful of members of court competed in the sands instead. There wasn't much of a crowd, save for the ladies of court and the few elderly men around. A pit of sand had been placed in the courtyard of the Red Keep, for the wrestling and the fights to take place in, while a second longer pit was designated for the spear toss. Even with each contest going to three outs, the wrestling did not last long. Men small and large, young and old, all tried to outdo one another, until only one was left standing. Brandon Norrey was his name, a man from the Northern Hill Clans who had remained in the capital since the war. He was large and strong, like half the damned Northerners Robert had met, and the King congratulated him on his victory.

With the wrestling finished, the crowd turned to the spear toss. The pit was narrow and long, stretching one hundred paces. Each contestant was given a short run of three strides before launching their spear. Baelor Brightsmile, the pride of Oldtown, offered to go first. He took his three strides and threw his spear a distance of seventy nine paces. He was a skilled soldier, but lacked immense strength. Ever the confident one, Prince Oberyn followed next, looking to embarrass the Hightower yet again. A renowned warrior who fought with a spear, Prince Oberyn chose to throw his spear with only a single stride, and still managed eighty four paces. The Red Viper laughed in the face of Brightsmile, once again putting him to shame. Robert followed next, and the crowd hushed. Not hindered by heavy plate, Robert took three large strides and launched his spear through the air.

"One hundred and thirteen paces!" The voice called out from the other end. Robert's immense strength had launched the spear so far, the course proved too short for it, instead, the point of the spear struck the cobbled paths beyond, the distance being judged solely by the scratch the spear had left in the stone. The crowd erupted into applause for their king, and Robert took a bow. It seemed unlikely that any would best such a feat. However, the victor of the wrestling appeared, cleaned now from the sand and sweat he had gathered earlier. Brandon Norrey took up a spear, and Robert moved off the lane to make way. With three strides, the man-of-few-words launched his spear, which too surpassed the sands and landed in the paths beyond. "One hundred and sixteen paces!" The crowd was shocked, but the Norrey let out a booming laugh. There weren't many men that could best Robert, but this Brandon fellow had earned his respect, albeit begrudgingly.

Last of the day's events were Robert's favorites- the fights. No weapons, no armor, two men would enter the sands with their fists, and one would leave as victor. Lyanna, as fierce as she was, even asked her husband if she might be allowed to compete, but Robert would have none of it. Robert remembered years ago how some used to talk of how Lyanna Stark donned a suit of armor and fought in the Tourney of Harrenhal as a mystery knight, to defend little Howland Reed's honor, but there was nothing to the rumor. Lyanna claimed she took no part in such events, but Robert thought back to it now that his wife was asking to take part in fist fights with men. It made him smile. No, Lyanna would not compete, but the four men who had placed well in the spear-throwing did. Baelor Hightower and Oberyn Martell, continuing on their long-time squabble, fought first, while the second and last fight proved the main attraction. Robert and Brandon, the man who had bested him once already, and who had won the wrestling, would be fighting for what was, for all intents and purposes, the fight to declare a champion.

Oberyn and Baelor took to the sands first. Oberyn had humiliated Brightsmile with his spear earlier, and it turned out the Hightower would not let that grievance go. Oberyn was fast and slender, while Baelor was build more squarely, with less height but more mass and muscle to him. Oberyn kept Baelor at a distance using his length, but eventually, the Hightower found a way through. He landed a solid blow to the stomach that winded the Prince, before throwing his shoulder into his stomach, lifting him up, and slamming him to the dirt. The fall broke the wrist of the Red Viper, while Baelor proceeded to pummel him on the floor. Blow after blow struck Oberyn's face and sides before eventually he yielded to his infuriated opponent. One final blow to the nose later, Baelor rose from his downed opponent, and walked away as victor, a hint of a smile passing over his lips.

After Oberyn was helped from the sands, Brandon Norrey took to them, inviting the king to follow suit. Robert removed his tunic, and the chatter of the crowd turned to giggles, as the young women of the court marveled at his physique. Robert wasn't enormously tall, but he was build unlike any other man in Westeros, and he still had his youth. He smiled at his wife, and Lyanna smiled back, as he stepped onto the sands in front of Brandon. A beginning to the bout was signaled, and each men stepped sideways rather than forwards as they began to circle one another. Eventually, the Norrey made the first move, lunging forward, striking at the king's head. It was no surprise that it took a man from as far north as north goes to have the courage to strike at the king, but Robert was glad.

The King blocked the blow, and launched one of his own, that was also blocked. They traded punches for a while, some landing, some not, before the Norrey attempted a bold move. He charged forward to take Robert down, and wrapped himself around the King's waist. As Robert fell backwards, he launched a knee into the midsection of Brandon, clearly taking the wind from his lungs. They hit the ground and the Norrey started to land punched on Robert, similar to how Baelor had finished the Red Viper. Robert began to bleed from the nose, and he could feel a welt growing under his left eye. With a thrust of his hips, Robert threw Brandon to his side, and reversed the position, finding himself landing blows down onto the Norrey now. He too began to bleed, both from the nose and a cut that opened under his eye. Eventually, he through Robert from off of him, and both men rose to their feet, the crowd applauding the act.

They circled each other once more, both men battered and bloodied, and slightly short of breath. Robert made a move, side stepping one way before lunging another, fooling the Norrey. He landed a solid punch to the gut, but was met with a fist to the face in return. He stepped back, and found Brandon charging him with a flurry of punches. Robert blocked most, before he managed to catch Brandon's forearm with his own, allowing him space to land a solid number of blows to his midsection. The Norrey reeled in reaction to the punches, and Robert used this opportunity to push away from Brandon. By the time Brandon began to stand upright again, Robert was already in full swing. Robert planted his left foot forward in the sand, , ducked at the waist, and launched his right arm from his shoulder with all his might. The blow hit Brandon square in the jaw before he could even see it, and the Norrey was sent tumbling towards the earth, unconscious.

By the time Brandon Norrey came to, the crowd was already applauding the King's victory. Robert approached his fallen opponent laughing, and lifted him from the sand before patting him from the back. Robert spat the blood form his mouth and laughed some more. "Good fight, friend, good bloody fight." He said, as he raised the Norrey's hand to the crowd, who showed their appreciation to the loser. "You gave me a better fight than anyone has in years." the King continued. "You're welcome here any time." Robert waved forth a young lad from the side, who brought forth two rags, one he handed to the King, the other he handed to Brandon. They wiped the blood from their faces, and the sand and sweat from their bodies, and walked from the sands. Robert felt alive, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew he couldn't fight any time he wanted, and anyone he wanted, but he at least knew that there were some occassions on which he could get away with it, and men still strong enough to challenge him.

He donned his tunic and began walking over to the shade, where water, a seat, his wife and his newborn son all awaited him. It's good to be king, he thought to himself with a smile.

 

[Dayni]

Well, a bit more lighthearted, but at least there's another heir in it.

Wonder if he'll be more of the Robert we know over time. I mean, he hasn't entirely changed from the old days.

Also, where did the Norrey come from?

 

[MattSR30]

Also, where did the Norrey come from?

Haven't got a clue to be honest. When you're a powerful enough lord, you'll end up with courtiers from all over the place. Brandon Norrey just kept popping up all over the place for me, and so I wrote that he's just been here since the war and stayed. I'm assuming something happened with his family that got him sent off from the Northern Hills, but I'm not sure.

Anywho, he's an interesting fellow, without going into much detail, he does have his part to play in the future.

 

[guillec87]

this is a really fine King... not the one from JRRM books

 

[MattSR30]

this is a really fine King... not the one from JRRM books

So far...

We'll see if that can continue for long.

 

[MattSR30]

CHAPTER VI - THE DRIFTWOOD KING

Robert was in his solar when the news was brought to him, only Lyanna and their babe were present. Steffon was nearly a year old now, and Lyanna was already beginning to swell with a second child. While Lyanna was resting with young Steffon on the bed, Robert was panning over letters and parchments of 'great importance.' It pained him, being a ruler, but it's what he had to do. He had failed Jon Arryn in his youth, choosing his hammer and the brothels instead of his books, but now was the time to make amends. Jon was his Hand, and Robert would heed his Hand's counsel to the day he died.

It was Jon Arryn himself who brought the news. Knocking on the door, Lord Jon entered the solar, with a rolled-up parchment in his hand. Taking the parchment from the Hand of the King, Robert scanned over its contents. It had been sent from Fair Isle, Faircastle to be precise. The island had been raided by Ironborn, villages were razed to the ground and families were slaughtered. Those who were allowed to live were told to deliver a message. "The Driftwood Crown has been claimed, we are the Stag's thralls no more." Balon Greyjoy had decided to test Robert's rule, believing the new king weak enough, and his Ironborn strong enough, to win their independence through war. "Call the banners." Robert commanded of his Hand. Robert would prove soon enough that his rule was not as weak as this Driftwood King supposed.

By the seventh moon of the year, three months after the news from Fair Isle, two armies had been raised in Robert's name. Twenty thousand Riverlanders had been raised near Riverrun by the Tullys, and sixteen thousand men from the Crownlanders were mustered near Duskendale. Robert was marching to the Riverlands to personally take command of the larger army, while the royal fleet sailed around the continent to carry them from Seagard to the Isles. Lord Ardrian Celtigar had been given command of the Crownlander host, to act as an auxiliary to the main force led by Robert. They would remain in the Crownlands, near Duskendale, to support the King when needed, or to fend off any attempts at an assault on the capital. The Ironborn could muster a decently-sized force, though to call it an army would be giving the Ironborn too much credit. More warriors than soldiers, their power rested in their ships, and if they proved foolish enough to attack the mainland, they would be crushed.

Robert had rendezvoused with the army at Riverrun when news came from King's Landing. Reports from the Westerlands had been quiet- only a few minor raids had occurred over the last few moons, nothing substantial. However, the reason for this soon emerged. Within days or Robert taking command of the Tully army, thirty thousand Ironborn landed near the capital, and began raiding the surrounding countryside. If they wanted to, thirty thousand Ironborn could have taken the under-defended capital, but they did not want to. Ironborn weren't interested in a siege, luckily, they were interested in blood, and women, and gold. And so, they stuck to the lands surrounding King's Landing, buying Robert some much needed time. Sending word to Duskendale, the King commanded Lord Celtigar to hold his position there until he was closer, and then together they would take the fight to the invaders.

During their march south, Robert was beginning to contemplate. He began to wonder if Balon Greyjoy had been right. The Iron King had staked his independence on Robert lacking in friends, and months after the declaration, Robert was still largely without aid. The Tullys had been the first, and so far only, house to answer the call. It was understandable why Ned Stark kept his troops in the North, for they lacked ships. He too understood why no word came from the Martells, or from Highgarden. Dorne and the Reach had sided with the Targaryens during the rebellion, and it seemed unlikely that they would side with King Robert so soon after their own allies were defeated. However, Robert had received no word from Tywin Lannister to the West, or his own flesh and blood in Storm's End.

Luckily, that all changed but a few weeks later. A raven came from Highgarden, carrying word from Lord Mace Tyrell himself. The Westerlands and the Reach had both answered the call of their king, and their combined armies had landed on Pyke. These armies totaled nearly twenty thousand troops, and would be more than enough to significantly change the tide of the war. With conformation of his vassals' support, and knowing that no more troops would come flowing out of the Iron Islands, Robert's confidence returned, and the King marched south with renewed vigor, ready to throw the krakens back into the ocean.

A few weeks later, the first battle of the war commenced. Robert had entered the Crownlands with his army from Riverrun, and Lord Ardrian Celtigar had been given leave to attack the Ironborn. According to reports, the Ironborn split their own host in half, with the Driftwood King commanding half of their forces, and his brother Victarion commanding the remnants. Robert had been marching to Duskendale, taking a wide birth around the Ironborn position as to avoid any attempts on their part to envelop him, and so he ended up near Rosby when Lord Celtigar engaged Balon Greyjoy's army. The two armies, roughly of the same size, came together near Dragonmarsh, and Robert quickly turned his army around to support the Crownlanders. However, they were interrupted near Drakecastle on their way to reinforce Lord Celtigar by the other fifteen thousand Ironborn, under the command of Victarion Greyjoy. The swift arrival of the Greyjoy brother meant that Lord Celtigar would have to do without the King's reinforcements, and so the four armies clashed within a day's march from one another.

Robert, as one would expect, led the center of the army, while Lord Commander Nestor led the left, and a young knight of House Farring, Ser Godry, led the right. The King's army outnumbered the Ironborn by nearly four thousand men, enough of a difference to give them a significant advantage over their enemy. The armies clashed, and the ring of steel sang out over the fields, accompanied by the screams of the men dying below. The battle was going well, they were starting to push back the Ironborn, and looking to the right, Robert saw an opportunity. A small contingent of Ironborn had turned to their left, and began rushing into the side of Ser Godry's forces, dealing significant damage. If allowed to press further, they would potentially cut through Ser Godry's flank, separating the center from the right, allowing the Ironborn an opportunity to surround the King.

Seeing their leader pushing them on, Robert took a few dozen of his own men and started to press towards the Ironborn that were hacking away at the right flank. Right before Robert could reach their leader, the man took a wound, and started to fall back. Not wishing to allow them to regroup, Robert rushed forward to take the man out, when a larger man emerged from behind the Ironborn commander, no doubt intent on defending his lord. The man made his way towards Robert, and launched a frenzied attack with his axe. Usually Robert would be on horseback, but there was something about these Ironborn that made him want to fight them face to face. Regardless of all his attempts, Robert could still not shake his desire to simply hit things with his hammer.

The two men began a duel, with some men even stopping to watch as some lowly Ironborn attempted to kill the King of Westeros. Though his strikes were powerful, they were reckless, and nothing Robert couldn't handle. Before long, he swept the large man off his feet, and buried the spike of his hammer into the man's chest. The Crownlanders roared with approval, as Robert stared down his next foe. Already injured from the fighting, the Ironborn commander looked horrified as Robert rushed towards him. Finally close enough to see, Robert noticed the sigil on the man's chest- a black longship silhouetted by the sun, the sigil of the Lords of the Lonely Light, House Farwynd. Though he did not know the lord's name, Robert at least had an idea of who he was fighting. Already injured, the man stood no chance, and Robert delivered a heavy blow to the side of the Lord's helmet, crumpling it and the head within.

With the small Ironborn force scattered, Ser Godry's flank was allowed to continue its attack, and within a few hours, the Ironborn were defeated. Once the left and right flanks had fallen, all three of the crown's flanks descended upon Victarion Greyjoy's vanguard, and wiped most of them out. The Greyjoy managed to escape with his life, as did a few thousand other Ironborn, but the battle was a costly one for the Greyjoys. When the counting was done, nearly six Ironborn had been killed or wounded for every one of the Riverlanders. Most had died, many were captured, and a few thousand had escaped, but with half of their army crushed, the Ironborn could not last for much longer. Now, Robert only had Balon Greyjoy left to deal with. If all went well, Lord Celtigar would defeat him as well, and bring a swift end to the war, but Robert prepared for a march nonetheless, hoping he could reinforce his second army if they required it.

Unfortunately, things had not gone as the King had hoped. News came in of Lord Celtigar's defeat at the hands of Balon Greyjoy. The Crownlanders were pulling back, hoping to regroup as best they could. Their initial reports indicated that over half of their army had fallen, while the Greyjoys had lost only a few thousand of their own. It was a heavy loss for the crown, but luckily the defeat of Victarion Greyjoy's army meant that the tide of the war was still in their favor. With the Tyrells and Lannisters besieging Pyke, even if Robert lost in the field, the war would still be theirs, in time. With Lord Celtigar's defeat, Robert ordered the army to quicken the pace of their march. Balon Greyjoy would not be allowed to escape, not when he was within reach of Robert himself. Robert didn't need Lord Celtigar's remaining forces to defeat the Driftwood King, they could regroup and rejoin the efforts when needed. All Robert needed to do was catch up the the Ironborn, and victory would be his.

Less than a day from where Lord Ardrian Celtigar had been defeated, Robert's army stopped to rest for the night. There, a raven arrived for the King. Robert had been at war for nearly half a year now, and had been receiving regular updates from his Hand back in the capital, keeping him aware of the goings-on of the Kingdoms. Deaths, births, other various pieces of information. However, this raven did not come from the capital, instead, this raven traveled up from the south. Robert fiddled with the letter in his hands, turning it to properly see the wax seal that held it together. Imprinted in the crimson wax as the image of a stag- Robert's own personal seal before his coronation. Stannis, he thought, snapping the seal to unravel the letter:

Brother,

I have recently been to King's Landing, and have visited with your family. I would have you know that they are all well, including your new son. Her Grace gave birth to a boy not days ago, naming him Eddard, in honor of her brother, Lord Stark. He is strong and healthy, and looks every bit a Baratheon.

Regarding more pressing matters however, When this letter finds you, I will no doubt be only a few days from your position. I have decided to ride north to aid you, though I am not coming alone. Fifteen thousand men, I have brought with me, ready to answer their King's summons. We shall march on these rebellious Ironborn and toss them back into the sea for you, Your Grace. They will soon know the error of their ways.

Ours is the Fury, brother.

Lord Paramount Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End.

 

[guillec87]

finally Stannis appears

 

[Maximus_96]

Will you do as Bobby B did in the books and let Balon bend the knee at the conclusion of the war or take a different path?

 

[guillec87]

Will you do as Bobby B did in the books and let Balon bend the knee at the conclusion of the war or take a different path?

I think that if the one of the books allowed Balon to bend the knee this one should also

 

[MattSR30]

Will you do as Bobby B did in the books and let Balon bend the knee at the conclusion of the war or take a different path?

I think that if the one of the books allowed Balon to bend the knee this one should also

Balon Greyjoy will see justice, that's all I can guarantee you at the moment.

 

[karmicknight]

Balon Greyjoy will see justice, that's all I can guarantee you at the moment.

The question is, does Robert need to make a statement about vassals declaring themselves kings and finding crowns for themselves. Or is his position strong enough that a show of mercy will continue to improve his standing with the Lords Paramount.

Basically, the question is whether the Reach and Dorne need the open palm or the closed fist. The Ironborn make a good object lesson either way.

 

[Keinwyn]

I'm rather enjoying this. Following.

Regardless of all his attempts, Robert could still not shake his desire to simply hit things with his hammer.

This made me snicker.

 

[MattSR30]

The question is, does Robert need to make a statement about vassals declaring themselves kings and finding crowns for themselves. Or is his position strong enough that a show of mercy will continue to improve his standing with the Lords Paramount.

Basically, the question is whether the Reach and Dorne need the open palm or the closed fist. The Ironborn make a good object lesson either way.

In my (Robert's) mind, I don't care if these other vassals want to declare themselves king. My hammer knows no difference between the flesh and bones of a Martell or a Tyrell.

I'm rather enjoying this. Following.



This made me snicker.

Are you laughing at the king, boy? It is a dangerous thing, to laugh at a king...

 

[Specialist290]

Glad to see that Bobby B the Bro! His Grace King Robert is having such a whacking good time.

 

[MattSR30]

Glad to see that Bobby B the Bro! His Grace King Robert is having such a whacking good time.

A whacking good time?

I... I see what you did there.

 

[MattSR30]

CHAPTER VII - BACK IN THE CAPITAL

​

The news from Stannis had been most welcome. Robert had won a significant battle over the Greyjoys, but had also suffered a heavy defeat at their hands as well. Fifteen thousand men would change the tide of the war significantly, and Robert knew that Stannis' arrival meant that the war would soon be over. They had also reached the capital far faster than he had expected. Within a day or two, Stannis would be nearing his position, and some thirty thousand of their men would be able to quickly descend upon the remaining Greyjoys, whose numbers surely amounted to only half their own.

This proved true just days later. Robert's army met the Driftwood King's - the one that had defeated Lord Celtigar earlier - near where that earlier battle had taken place. It surprised the king, Balon Greyjoy remaining so static. The Ironborn's strength was in their ability to hit an area and leave before anyone could respond. Having defeated Robert's second host, it would have made sense for the Greyjoy king to either give chase, or move further north, further away from Robert's own army. However, he had elected to stay all-but-stationary. A grave error, the King thought.

Robert's sixteen thousand men met Balon Greyjoy's eleven thousand near Dragonmarsh once more. The numerical advantage was great, but not enough to ensure certain victory. The Young Dragon lost sixty thousand men attempting to conquer, and hold, Dorne, when the Dornish had far fewer men. Robert was surprised at his ability to recount the tales of Daeron Targaryen, he was never very good with books. Then again, this particular book was about war, and Robert was very, very good at that. Even with the advantage, Robert could not afford to get careless, he could afford no mistakes. Their attack would be simple yet disciplined, hard but flexible, and with it, Balon Greyjoy would be brought to heel.

The fighting was going well, as was expected. For hours, the forces loyal to Robert crashed against the savages from the Iron Islands. Though their ferocity brought down many of Robert's men, discipline prevailed over brute strength. Even Robert knew that. There were few men who could match his might, but he was not reckless in his attack. Every blow of his warhammer was thought out. Every swoop, every strike, whether it be from horseback or on foot, Robert knew what he was doing. However, the battle nearly turned sour. For all their discipline, Robert's army lapsed in concentration for a period, focused solely on the crazed warriors directly in front of them. They failed to see what was coming from behind them.

Victarion Greyjoy, whose army had been smashed by Robert earlier, had rallied the surviving Ironborn and now thousands of them crashed against the exposed back of Robert's lines. They were cutting through scores of men, and discipline began to break in favor of of individuals saving their own lives. It was just the right amount of pandemonium needed for the Ironborn to mount a comeback, to turn the battle in their favor. Luckily however, as Balon Greyjoy had Victarion, Robert too had a brother he could count on.

Before any true damage could be done, the horns from the south sounded, and a wave of mounted knights came cresting over a hill in the distance. Five hundred mounted knights from the Stormlands, led by Stannis Baratheon himself, came surging forward. The wall of Ironborn between Robert and Stannis proved an easy target, and they cut through the clueless Ironborn like a knife through warm butter. The Ironborn's already fragile lines could not hold. They broke soon enough, and the slaughter began. A few thousand of Stannis' foot soldiers joined the fray, adding in some fresh faces to finish the fight. Before long, it was all over. Thousands of Ironborn were dead, double the number of Robert's casualties. The remaining Ironborn, including Victarion, scurried back to their longships, though the Driftwood King did not. Balon Greyjoy was captured, and was soon in chains. The war was all but over.

With Balon Greyjoy in custody, the Ironborn scuttled back to their islands, ending their little rebellion. The victorious King Robert was greeted to rapturous applause upon his return to the capital. Just a few short years ago, Robert had come to the capital a conqueror, a man many of the smallfolk viewed as their enemy. However, he understood that deep down most of them truly did not care for who sat the Iron Throne, so long as they did not worsen their lives, and Robert was an improvement over his predecessor, surely. The people lined the Street of Seeds as Robert's procession entered through the Gate of the Gods and straight to the Red Keep. Stannis had elected to not be present, instead choosing the comfort, and silence, of the journey back to Storm's End. He wasn't one to be celebrated, Stannis, he was more than happy to let his brother bask in the light, as was Robert himself.

Robert's return to the Red Keep was his first appearance in the capital for nearly a year. As such, it was the first time the king was to lay eyes on his son and here. There before him stood the love of his life, holding in her arms the future king of Westeros. The two of them together was enough to nearly take the young king to his knees. For all the love Robert had for fighting, and years ago, wenching, it paled in comparison to his love for Lyanna. Nothing could ever match that, or so he thought. However, there he was, the little bundle of pale skin and black hair. Steffon, Lyanna had called him, to honor her husband's late father. Gods, Robert thought, as if I didn't love her enough already. Young Steffon was a gift to Robert's battle-weary eyes, and he knew that one day those very eyes would see his son grow into a man worthy of his crown, there was no doubt about that.

For all the good that came of Robert's return, there was no shortage of poor news either. Robert's Hand, Jon Arryn, had sent few updates from the capital in Robert's absence. Robert took it to mean nothing of note was happening, which was partially true, but there proved to be a second reason for the lack of correspondence as well. In the King's absence, a terrible fate had befallen the Arryn Lord. When Robert's war began, Jon Arryn knew he needed more allies. Storm's End, Winterfell and the Eyrie might have been enough to take the throne, but there was no reason to leave it to chance. House Tully was wed into both House Stark and House Arryn - Ned wedding Catelyn and Jon wedding Lysa - to ensure their allegiance. Not a moon's turn ago however, part of that alliance was no more. Lysa Tully was murdered, found dead in the Hand's chambers by Lord Jon himself at night, upon his return after a day's work.

"Who has done this Jon?" Robert asked in shock.

"We have reason to believe the act was carried out by Rowena Waynwood," came Jon's reply.

"Waynwood? Who is she to you? To Lysa? Why would she do such a thing?"

"I cannot say Your Grace," Jon answered. "The only relation we know of is one Petyr Baelish, Lord of Midlor Point. Lord Baelish is the Lady Waynwood's husband."

Robert knew the name, Ned had mentioned it before. Petyr Baelish had been stupid enough to challenge Ned's brother Brandon to a duel for Catelyn Tully, one which he lost. Handily. Ned said the boy was infatuated with Cat, but he seemed as though he had nevertheless married for duty, as most men must.

Robert continued. "He has a connection to the Tullys, do you think he had a hand to play in this?"

"Perhaps," Jon replied, "though all we know now is that this was Lady Rowena's doing, not his."

"You still have men loyal to you in the Vale I hope?" Robert asked with a chuckle. He knew the answer was obvious. The men of the Vale loved Jon Arryn.

"I do, and it is already being done, Your Grace." Jon knew what Robert was going to ask, and so he answered the question that had not yet been asked. "Men have already been sent to arrest Lady Rowena. She will be in the capital within a month, Gods be good."

"Good," Robert replied. "I'm sorry, Jon. I'm sorry."

Together, in a short moment of silence, Robert was oddly happy. Jon Arryn had been there for him when others were not. He had been there when Aerys Targaryen called for his head, he had been there when Lyanna Stark was taken. Now, it was Robert's turn to be there for his old friend. It was the only comfort Robert could find in the news. However, the silence was quickly interrupted by a rasp at the door.

"Come in," Robert called out. A man dressed in boiled leather armor, lacking a shield and a helm, carrying only a sword, entered the King's chambers. Robert identified him as a guard from the dungeons.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but I have news from Balon Greyjoy." The guard could scare help but stare at his own feet when facing the king. Robert knew then it was more news he wished he would not have to here. "Lord Balon has demanded a trial, Your Grace-"

"And he shall have one," Robert interrupted.

"By combat," the guard finished.

A trial by combat? Robert thought. Balon Greyjoy could have saved himself a lot of trouble by making such a request days ago, when he had been captured in the field. Perhaps he sought to create a spectacle, perhaps he wished to make a mockery of the Baratheon king. It would not matter though, Robert would not let the defeated Lord of Pyke make a mockery of him, not in his own home. Even though he followed the Drowned God, Robert would not deny Balon Greyjoy his request, his own Gods would surely appreciate a champion of their own faith defeating a follower of that false god.

"Very well then," Robert answered. "Lord Balon will have his trial by combat. Tomorrow." Robert paused a moment before ensuring the guard was listening closely. "Ensure he is fed well, and get him a feather pillow, too. He will stand for himself tomorrow, and I would not wish him to be weak."

Robert ended his speech there, not speaking what came to his mind next. "I would not wish him to be weak," Robert had said. Not when facing me, he had thought.

 

[Specialist290]

A Trial by Combat in which the newly-minted King on the Iron Throne fights personally. I don't know whether it's Robert's intent or not, but a victory here would certainly solidify Robert's ascent as just in the sight of gods and men.

Having said that, however, I have to admit I get this sinking feeling all of a sudden...