[h1][center][color=f26522]Gerald Crakehall-Wilderness near Casterly Rock.[/color][/center][/h1]

Gerald had been away too long.

He had forgotten what home was, where it was, and mostly, he missed it, just the Westerlands in general, he'd sure not missed the time when lord Brax had spat in his face and called him a deserter, and he'd doubt that Tyget missed him, considering his actions up until that moment.

All he really could do was be the best damn puppet-king he could be.

Lord North had lost Harrenhal to rioting, so he hanged another of Lord Footly's sons and cut off one of the lord's fingers, proceeding to disembowel him slowly, following by tearing out the man's throat with his teeth. Right now, House Footly rested at a daughter and a son, though the son was only alive because one of the ironborn took him to ship and sailed for Pyke, so Lord North forced the now Lady Footly to declare her forces for the new king, to seal the deal, Lord North married her.

Gerald couldn't leave, the men liked Lord North too much to let him go, but he was afraid of what the man could do, he was one of Daenys Targaryen's few friends, which was never a good sign, though he had managed to endear himself to King Aegon as well, serving two terms as hand of the king. Lord Torwin Costayne of Three Towers had been taken riding for Highgarden, Tambur the Wull tore one of his arms clean off, then drank the brain-fluid that was leaking from the dying man's nose. Lord Guy Baelish had attempted to run for home, Ser Osney North, the lord's son, castrated him and presented his naked corpse to Lord North. Ser Bruce North was the Lord's cousin, he had raped Costayne's youngest son and squire and avoided punishment by hiding the corpse in Gerald's quarters, when Gerald told, Lord North had the man drowned in his armor as to avoid becoming a kinslayer.

Now they were riding for Casterly, with purpose to sneak into Tyget's home and take one of Gerald's sisters as hostage.

Now he was just pissed off more than anything, he couldn't really do anything about it.

They'd met up with Connington on their way to Casterly, they had managed to collect what remained of their armies to sack Hornvale and recruit a group of hedgeknights with the dragons they had stolen. Speaking of dragons, the Lord North had found old Daenys Targaryen's dragon, he had sent the dragonseed to try to tame it, Gerald honestly doubted anything good would come of it.

Suddenly, his horse pitched one direction sharply, and then he found himself riding an uncontrollable beast towards a large yellow plateau. A whistle rang out in his ears, and an arrow appeared bloodily in his horse's neck, sending it falling into the ground. Gerald threw himself out of the way of the falling beast, bouncing across the ground against the feet of a noble, looking up slowly, he saw a peace banner flying over him, an older man smiled at him and placed the tip of his sword against Gerald's throat. "Hello deserter." The silver haired man stated matter-of-factly. Gerald grabbed at his sword, but he only recieved a kick to the ribs from a nearby guardsman. The noble was dressed in a long coat fastened with the pin of House Targaryen, showing him to be there by command of the king. 
"What brings you back home?"

Gerald groaned and fought against the men who held him there, but he couldn't manage to make a move.
"You're as of now, in the custody of House Bar Emmon." Was it the lord? No, now that he looked, Gerald could see that it was probably the lord's younger son Jaime, they had never met, but Gerald had heard he was a hellraiser in his youth, but as an old man he was dutiful and willing to listen, maybe he would help. Gerald looked at the older man's confused look, and frowned himself, sighing and being unable to give an answer. "Then it's just the fun of some lad who doesn't know better? Your brother's a hard man, I doubt he'd just take this with stubborn acceptance." Gerald looked back up at the man, bit his lip a moment, then sighed again. Bar Emmon stood Gerald up and grabbed around his throat near tenderly, he smelled of roses and grass, dressed very well for a campaign leader, probably meaning that this was a diplomatic mission, perhaps for peace between the two sides.
"I'm arresting you, and I'm bringing you before your brother as a peace offering, you bloody cunt." He spat out a mere hair from Gerald's face.
"No, I, I need... I need you, to tell him... tell Tyget..." Tambur's voice bellowed from behind them, interrupting Gerald's words.
"Let the king go, or we'll go right through you." Bar Emmon mouthed the word king confusedly, his smell slightly changing as he turned from angry to confused. Gerald spat out some dirt, attempting again to speak to Ser Jaime.
"Tyget, tell him that he's being invaded, tell him Lord North calls me king, you ride under a peace banner, do this one thing, I'll make sure you get away, they won't hurt me." Tambur growled over the hill, causing Gerald to speak more quietly, as he did, Bar Emmon nodded as he spoke, he looked with open eyes and mouth for a moment, before nodding and turning to his guards. Gerald was released, and he stood looked back at the enraged Tambur, and turned to run, instructing Bar Emmon to do the same.

Before he got far, he heard clopping hooves behind him, so he slid to a stop on the balls of his feet, yanking his sword loose. He took one last look at the confused Bar Emmon, before taking a fighting pose and facing down the horsemen. Tambur was utterly taken aback. "What is this?" Gerald smiled, cried out, and slashed the legs of Tambur's steed out from under him.

"This is me killing you, ser." Tambur growled on the ground, shooting up before Gerald could take advantage. Gerald realized how much he wished he was the Bar Emmon side of this plan, but he knew that Tambur wouldn't risk hurting him.

Tambur grabbed Gerald around the throat and threw him a few feet away. Gerald bounced across the ground before rolling back to his feet, landing in an awkward position unable to counter. Tambur pulled his mace from off of his back, charging forth with an overhand blow looking to take Gerald's head clean off. Gerald parried, but he was thrown from his feet and unable to go for a strike. Gerald's legs crossed as he recovered, and he instantly realized his mistake, Tambur followed with a left handed punch that flattened him, his legs getting trapped together and falling out from underneath him. Gerald rolled back to his feet and gripped hard at his blade. [i]Prepare yourself Tyg, I'm coming home, and I'm done being an oaf, just you wait, give me something, I'll do it, I swear to you.[/i] Gerald's feet flew forwards to a new position, planting themselves in the dirt before Tambur and pulling his body back, the rest of his being followed with a swing that hurt his body with the power in the twisting of his hips. It buried itself in Tambur's side, the large clansman placing a huge hand over Gerald's face and pushing against his nose and mouth. Gerald again and again yanked for his sword, unable to breathe or see. Eventually he got it free, placing a hand upon the pommel and driving it into the Wull's mouth. He pushed again, screaming like a burning dragon, small sparks began flying from his fists and his eyes lit up with an invisible fire that only he could see. "I am the brother of Azor Ahai reborn! I am a man aflame! I am Gerald Crakehall, my father's son, and I am no maid!" He pulled the blade loose, grabbing the man's face and leaving a burn in the shape of his fingers, before stabbing the blade through the Wull's lower spine with enough force to throw the clansman off his feet.

And then he realized he was facing down an army.

Reality ensued, and Gerald awoke with one less finger than he remembered.