Garland heard the noise of another visitor, waking from his early morning sleep, sitting up a little as he heard the noise of plate rattling a little more than usual. The guards muttered a little, and he heard her name being called. Baela Targaryen. He woke up, his eyes shooting open, as he looked across the room, hearing the footsteps of her shoes against the stone. Sitting up a little, he moaned, but smiled, the Reach Lord aware that Baela had come out of her way to visit this morning, to check on him. Well...maybe he had played his bluff correctly, as he grinned at her, a certain Reachman's charm coming out.
"Good morning, Baela. You handle mornings better than I do." He said, brushing his hair from over his eye, clutching his side a little as he looked at his wound. It was getting there, he was feeling better than yesterday, that much he could say. It was a slow recovery, but it was one he was getting used to...and with people like the white-haired Targaryen around, with the charm in her eyes, he felt able to at least see through to the end of it.
"Morning Lord Tyrell... or should I say, Lord Garland the Lucky?" she said with a smile, rolling her eyes as she entered the room. She bowed politely before Lord Garland, before moving across the room to sit in a stool by the edge of the bed. "I am sorry to bother you this early, but, I thought it would be nice to say hello to you once again, before we left to take the last holdfasts of the Mad Prince's loyalist forces." She flashed another smile, fixing the folds of her dress as she got comfortable at Garland's bedside.
Garland smirked once more, his hands over his chest, as he nodded appreciatively.
"The Lucky....I never liked to associate myself with being a lucky man, but a shrewd one. But so be it...." Garland said, smiling as he offered out his hand, placing it by Baela's side, wanting to feel her touch.
"We've got Crakehalls outside, and Aerys is sending you to deal with a dragon elsewhere. You'd be so much more useful here. And besides...he's in a cell." Garland added, his voice indeed a little weaker than usual, but still holding some authority, as he smiled at her once more, at the Targaryen Princess. She seemed to have a certain gravity, a certain attraction....a warrior inside, like many a great Queen of the past. Garland could sense her aurora, that Baela was a fighter, and that indeed, she would make for a great Lady Tyrell, if they were to marry. And in Garland's mind, that was his intention. Perhaps the Seven had directed him to this? She may not have been the most beautiful woman of the Seven Kingdoms, but she was close, and her other traits more than made up for that. That, and what he knew of her personality, it made up well. She had a fire that burned brighter than Rhaenyra's, it was one that was driven, detirmined....and Garland liked that.
"You came, especially for me....maybe you are right then. Lord Garland the Lucky I am." He chuckled lightly, sitting up a little closer to her, resting his hand on the bedside.
Baela smiled devilishly, rolling her eyes as she playfully ran her fingertips across the palm of Garland's outstretched hand. "Still working to climb out of the grave, and you lay there trying to keep me close... to you no doubt." She pulled back, fixing her hair lazily as she looked about the room. She divereted her attention back at Lord Garland, fixing her eyes with his, as she chose to speak more. "There is more than just wishing to say goodbye to you that I came here... I hope you realize that... that things are balanced upon a knife's edge, even as you and eye look upon one another." She smiled weakly, before leaning back in, the fabric of her dress tightening provacatively.
"Lord Garland, I want to know the truth about a few things, and I warn you... while it may seem mundane, or perhaps inquisitive, there is a reason why I bother you with these... how can I put it, trivial, yet on the flip side, important things. So, I ask, my lucky Pale Rose, will you be honest with me?" She smiled at Garland, taking his hand in hers, as she looked at him.
"I will, sweet Dragon. On my honor rest it. What do you wish to know?" Garland said, the Reachman knowing it was almost too stereotypical a phrase, but he knew it was a word of truth. He felt comfortable, and to someone like Baela, he could trust her, or at the least, know she wasn't here to kill him on some twisted bastard's orders. She saw the same in him, Garland assumed, or at least, he hoped she did. He looked across to Baela once more, knowing what she was doing. Well...her cleavage did seem impressive, but again, when didn't Alerie's, Garland asked himself. Ah, the nature of dresses that the Targaryens wore, it wasn't all that different to that of the Reach, Garland's mind jested to itself, and he was indeed, a little exited by it....though of course, the Young Rose was a seasoned veteran of these little conquests of his.
Baela smiled, and then sighed, knowing that what she was about to ask could determine the fate of tens, if not hundreds of thousands of people. Lord Garland was a good man, or so she hoped. His eyes were still very bright and alive, even with him confined to his bed to recover. Shaking her head, and letting a few loose strands of hair fall about her face, she spoke lowly. "Do you trust Aerys Targaryen..." she spoke those words as though they were a hammer hitting upon an anvil. She looked at Garland's eyes, hoping the feelings within hers would convey what she was asking.
Garland felt the weight of the words, as he gulped, nodding. He didn't let his mind slip, and knew that the answer he was going to give was as honest as it could have been. She knew this game, the Reach Lord guessed, and he did too, though how well his interest would, he didn't know. A good fighter, a good spider? Oh, how that would be wonderful to have...that and the fact that her Targaryen looks had not suffered the pitfall of the Targaryen inbreeding that could plague the family on occasion.
"I have barely met the boy yet, but I have heard things." Garland said at first, pausing for breath.
"I trust our King. Baela, his father was the Mad Prince, but he's still a boy who can be put on the right path. The right tutors, the right people around him, and he can at least hold his Seven Kingdoms together. You and Rhaenyra are a part of that process. That's all we need right now, a King, of some sort. Not more violence. It will only get worse when those Crakehalls enter...and right now, I am his Regent, his Hand, the individual that runs his Kingdoms for him, or at least...one, maybe two of them. ." Garland said to Baela, his voice honest, as he knew that if that didn't satisfy her, he wouldn't know what would do. He did not speak loudly or quietly, but in a tone that seemed appropriate, that seemed warm, diplomatic, a little provicinal but trustworthy.
Baela listened quietly as Lord Garland spoke, allowing him to say all that he needed to, to let him speak his mind, in all his wisdom. She understood what he was getting at, and the very gravity of what the underlying message was, but she knew she had to press the matter, if not for her sake, then that of her elder sister Rhaenyra. His rule was that of the main bloodline, decended from the main branch of Targaryen rulers, but, there was more to it than just blood or relations to the last King. She sighed, brushing her hair back behind her right ear. She needed Garland to understand where she was comming from, what she was speaking for, and if neccessary, what she would fight, and die for.
"Lord Garland... you and I may have heard, and seen different things, but tell me, what have you heard, what have you seen, and what do you truly know, of this boy king, of Aerys, son of Daenys the Mad..." She paused, not sure of how best to word what she wished to convey to Lord Garland. On one hand, she wanted to convey what she felt for the man himself, and on the other, she wished to speak freely about how she felt about Aerys. "I would like to hear your part of the story, so to speak, before I tell you what I know. I do not wish to have what you know, or perhaps have heard, be misconstrued from what I will tell you. You are the center of power right now, so to speak, being the Regent. You know far more than me, but, perhaps there are things that even you may not have been privy to, as the same goes for me." She smiled, playing gently with Garland's hand and wrist, allowing the folds of her dress to move about lightly across Lord Garland's arm.
"I've been sitting here, out of the loop. I know only that there's little else have. We had yourself and Rhaenyra, but people know Aerys is alive now, he walked through King's Landing, among the smallfolk with Drogon behind him, or so I was told by Willas." Garland said, replying immediately to Baela's question, nodding. Oh, she was playing well at this...but he had to speak the truth. He couldn't say a lie, he couldn't tell her that he was some great King in the making, but the honesty of it all, that he was a boy, that while he had his temper and his mannerisms, it could be cured, it could be dealt with. Willas and his guards had only told him so much, so he couldn't say much more.
"I know he is of a certain disposition, any son of the Mad Prince would be. It can be cured, whatever it is. Once I meet him proper, I shall sort this mess out, and perhaps then I can tell you. For now, all I know is, our service is what matters. Let us not take it further, what Aerys is and is not. He is a boy, with much to learn of the world, and we will teach him. After all, we all thought he was dead for the last few years, so perhaps that in itself is the unknown quantity. That is it, Baela, that is all I know. Anything else would be just assumptions." Garland added, as he took Baela's hand lightly and gently with his, looking into her eyes, pulling her close towards the bed. He had to shift things, and he knew Baela was drilling...but that was not putting him off. She had a right, after what had happened, no doubt she was confused, unsure of what to do, what to make of this. Distrust was going to happen, but somehow, through all of it, Lord Tyrell could guess that she would finally come through, or so at least he hoped.
"Ah, but let us move on for now. Come lie with me for a little while, I am sure you have time, before you have to go. I still have something I need to ask of you....and it's a comfortable bed, you know....." Garland simply said to her in a friendly, inviting manner, lying back down on the bed, hoping she would take the hint, to come closer to him. It felt strange, but somehow, he knew that at the very least, she could offer a companion, much like he did for Baela. In a better state, by now things would be far faster, but Garland knew that you could only do so much when you were a little pale and weak.
She sat silently, the gears moving in her head as Garland spoke. Oh, how she wanted to fully trust in him, to believe the words he spoke, but deep down, she felt different, felt the almost primordial, instinctual feeling that was screaming for her to run, to not trust Aerys. The boy King was cut from the very same cloth as his father, and worse, from her deepest fears, from the same mold that made Aerys the II, the Mad King. Baela looked back to Garland, leaning in to him, to speak in a hushed tone... only to be abruptly pulled closer to Garland. She fell foward onto the bed, smiling foolishly, before propping herself back up once more. She shook her head, blowing a kiss to Garland, before continuing.
"Just a moment there, Pale Rose, while it'd be delightful to share your bed, you and I are hardly betrothed, let alone married... and besides... I promised to tell you what I know." She sighed, moving back a bit, still lying prone beside Garland, but propped up upon her elbows, creating a provacative view for the recovering Rose. She chose her words carefully, knowing that what she was going to say could be tantemount to treason. "Aerys is young, I will give you that, that he is a boy who knows little of the world, of being a King, a Lord, a Ruler, or of even basic court customs... but what he is not, is someone that can be molded into a good man. He has a sickness within him that will only spread with time's progression." She paused, moving her hair aside as she moved closer to speak quietly, barely above a whisper in Lord Garland's closest ear.
"Aerys is a false smile hiding a heart of hate and anger... madness that boils close to the surface, only hidden away by what one could call a false mask, one that he lets the world see, but is not who he truly is. You have no doubt heard of the tales of Aerys II, of how he was once a good man, if you can call it that, but over time, he became more and more wicked, more evil, more vile. His decent into madness could not be checked, could not be managed. I feel the same about this Aerys, who comes from the wicked blood of Daenys." She stopped, rising up, to then turn and fully lay next to Garland.
"You were not in the Throne room when I met him, when I bent the knee, spoke to him, when Rhaenyra spoke to him. You did not see the madness within him... but I will tell you what I saw. He hides behind his masks, his false pretenses and words... something his father taught him no doubt. His own guards tread wearily about him, perhaps knowing what he really is, but I can not speak for them. What I can say, is that behind all his promise, his potential, is a barely contained reservoir of madness, whose damn already strains and cracks from the weight of all of it." Her voice carried the tenseness of her feelings, of the unbridled fear and uncertainty of it all. She looked deeply into Garland's eyes, and spoke softly, this time with a tone that she'd never spoke in before... one of fear, of being scared and alone... and that of one looking for a hand in the darkness, for help...
"My Pale Rose, what would you have me do? I do not trust Aerys, for the sake of my beloved sister, for my family, for myself... for all those in the world that will surely suffer if that boy is to remain a King." She trailed off, looking to Garland for direction.
Garland knew she was close, revealing, indeed, but there was the fire in her heart and eyes that burned brighter that overruled her presence, one that seemed worried. And for that moment, Garland felt inside like he had to listen, he had to take it in. This was new, this wasn't right. And these two Princesses, he had taken care of them, well, Willas had, but now it felt like it was his mantle to take on once more. It was fear, it was worry, panic, and Garland knew that indeed, she had to feel like this, in the aftermath of what had happened. Though some of it did feel like it came through....and perhaps she was right. It did not feel right at all, whatever the look in his eyes was, whatever it was. He had to see for himself first, then he would make whatever judgement he had to. Family first, he said to himself. The Throne was his service, and it kept his family alive. Though....well, in these circumstances, it almost hadn't.
"Baela....you sound worried, scared. Do not fear, I will work this out...I promise you, I need to see it for myself, and I shall do what is right for the Realm. For now...keep your feelings inside, and when the time comes, I will tell you exactly how you will act. Don't do anything...not yet. If you do, you will certainly get yourself, or your sister into deep trouble, and worse still, the Crakehalls will want to kill us all. Right now, we have bigger worries. You speak with fire, Princess...and that I cannot deny, and when I see it, I shall understand." Garland said, adjusting himself on the bed, wrapping his arms around her, mainly his right, as his left was still a little wounded.
"That was only between us both. Nobody else shall know. Not a soul. If it does, then I will know, Baela. Secrets and lies can become webs and terrors beyond your wildest dreams. My sister knows better of these things. For now...we can't do anything, or worse will happen." He said, looking sternly into her eyes, holding her close, as he felt her warm skin against his. It was true indeed...she was very warm blooded, like the fire in her eyes was on her skin. It was a small known fact that a Tyrell could stick his hand in a Rosebush or thorns and barely feel a thing, at least, as a result of the gardening and gardens that they spent their times of youth in, and it was a strange trait of the family. Like the Starks had their Direwolves, the Targaryen warmth, their resistance to heat, their hot blooded nature, that sat proud and stubborn, ran through their very veins.
"As for my question, Baela...and I know you're going to find it difficult, but I have thought it for many an hour, about taking it further. Hardly a suprise, I wouldn't think to either of us." Garland continued after a little break, looking deeply into her eyes, knowing again, the topic was changing back. He had to break it to her, and just say the words.
"An alliance between our two Houses is one that would be formidable, one in blood, even more so...and we both know we are interested in strengthening our names in marriage, to give you any protection I can....I cannot deny that I love you, so after we defeat the Crakehalls and I become well again, I wish to become betrothed to you, Baela Targaryen, Second of your Name, and the greatest fire in my heart." The words were heavy, and Garland even felt like there was weight in what he said, knowing it was deep, like it felt like an anchor hitting the sea floor, but in his heart, he felt right. This was what he had to do...it hurt thinking what it meant, but it was the right thing to do. His voice rarely broke, but towards the end, it almost sounded like it, like something had finally snapped in the young man's head, like he had felt some sort of courage that he had finally overcome, that was far better than some common Reachwoman's, it was a real embracing of a lover that felt like someone important, a Princess that shared his heart. Even as he felt wounded, injured, he felt strong enough to know that this was no foolish move, this was something that felt right in so many ways, to his heart, his head, to his....region, particularly with the way that Baela was so close, her heat, her frame laid out alongside his. The Rose and the Dragon, two sigils that did not seem to match, one laid waste to the other once...yet everything else about it felt like the right path.
Garland... the man was intoxicating, even as he spoke, his words swirled about Baela's head, she listened to those words, what he was saying, what they meant, what he meant, the man was speaking from his heart. Baela hung on to each and every word of his. She looked into Garland's eyes, trying to see if he was truly speaking the truth of it all, wanting to believe him, wanting to feel safe in being not only beside Garland at this moment, but also in the future, whatever that could bring. She smiled, listeing to the man speak, his voice and tone easy upon her ears, as Garland spoke she began to close her eyes, just for a few moments allowing the world around her to fall away.
Garland spoke sensefully, perhaps in that he truly wanted to believe what he was saying, in that there could be hope for Westeros with Aerys as its king, or perhaps it was out of loyalty, she could not say at this moment, but whatever it was, it was not exactly what she wished to hear. Yet, she still layed there, listening to his voice, his words, hanging onto each syllable and vowel. He was dreamy, that much could not be denied, and yet, even as he spoke, she knew with a deepening sadness in her heart, that she would not always be able at his side, to lay so comfortably next to this Rose, that fate, and her own heart, no matter how much she wanted it, could not be willed into existance.
It was his last comments that truly killed her, in a manner of speaking. He wanted to marry her, to combine their two houses into one, to allow her something that all women dream of, a loving husband, a home... all these things and more. Part of her yearned for that, to just say yes, and run off with Garland, the Lucky, the Handsome, her Pale Rose. She looked away from him, abruptly sitting up and turning away from Garland. She swung her legs out over the edge of the bed. She looked out at the window across from her, down onto the city below. She sighed, looking down to the floor, as she thought upon what she could say, what she could do. She didn't wish to hurt Garland, he was a good man, but at the end of the day, she had to look out for her sister, to take care of Rhaenyra, as she had taken care of herself. Perahps that was hope... but, such things would need the length of time to tell, and what she knew within her heart, was that she may not return to King's Landing, let alone Westeros, for some time to come.
Aerys could not be trusted, no matter what Garland said. The way he looked at her and Rhaenyra, like they were just pieces of meat, how he had spoken to them, no... it was not something that could not be forgotten nor forgiven. She wiped a stray tear from her left eye, not wishing for Garland to see that she was distraught about the events that were now unfolding. She pushed those feelings down, hiding them away for the time being. She would need them to keep her warm for the days to come... for what she and her sister, for what the Crownlanders needed to do. She turned back to Garland, smiling at him with a true and honest smile, one that spoke of her feelings deep within for the Pale Rose.
"Lord Garland... my Pale Rose, nothing would make me happier than to walk down that path with you, should that time ever come, should fate decide that we could be together. But... as you said, things are uncertain now, the world stands on the brink of chaos and destruction. I promise you... no, I pledge to you, that should the world slow down once more, should fate allow for our paths to cross once more, that we can become more than friends and seperate houses... but till that time comes, let us focus on the troubles at hand, the enemy we face in the capital. Today is but the first step of many towards what you and I both wish for." She smiled deeply at Garland, blushing as well, before leaning in to kiss him softly, letting her lips linger upon his for a long while, before pulling away, rising away from his bed, to stand before him. She fixed her dress, letting it fall gingerly about her, the fabric flowing like a summer rain about her.
"Lord Garland, this has been but a dream all too short... till next time, think of me, and me alone... I wouldn't want you to go off and have some fun with a washer woman or some handmaiden... that was the past... you are a different man now." She smiled, bowing before him.
Garland's face broke into a smile, a tear running down his eye, it was difficult to notice, as Garland kissed Baela's soft lips, yet he felt like perhaps something had given in his heart and soul, knowing it had been a difficult question indeed to ask. Of all the things he had to do, seducing women was easy...but such a decision felt like it was consigning his past away. Perhaps it was....he didn't entirely know, but it was the right thing. And her response was the right one...she was indeed, right in saying what she said. Like women of the Tyrell dynasty were thorns, suave, cunning and very, very sharp indeed, the women of House Targaryen seemed to have their own particular ways, of beauty, mystery and fighting that many Houses did not seem to match. Even the Baratheons didn't seem to match it, particularly because Garland knew a woman like Baela rode Jadefyre, at his sister's age. It felt strange, but particularly so, it was something that he reminded himself of. It was the right thing to do, as Lord Tyrell watched her fix her dress, before bowing.
"No more before you, my Princess. No more before you...thank you, Baela." Garland said, the smile on his face one of euphoria, just pure ecstasy, just knowing in his heart, he had done it. In these lands, marriages were taken for granted, arranged, just fixed...but this felt different, it felt like there was something behind all of this, and despite that difference, Garland knew that they would soon figure it out. Alas, she had to go, and Garland knew that there was many a thing to do.
"When you return...I shall be well, and I shall have a gift for you, my Princess. I swear it by the Seven...I will do whatever needs to be done for us." He added, as she bowed, sitting up in his bed once more, smiling as he brushed his hair aside, a beaming smile on his face, knowing that he looked into the young Targaryen's eyes...they still seemed to burn, to glow, and somehow, Garland could only guess that few would dare attempt what he did, lest they were mad...to ask a Targaryen's hand in marriage was a rare occurance, and no doubt, there were plenty of women Garland could have found, within the Reach, that much he knew. Yet his heart was set, and for once, he knew that the yield was one that seemed, by pure chance, to fit all else. It was a shame that he was like this...but you could not ask for the world when you were fighting a war.
Baela smiled her casual grin, one that she only showed her friends and family. "You take care of yourself, Pale Rose. Try not to get yourself killed... I don't think I can find enough roses to place on your damn grave." She smiled, bowing before him, and blowing him a kiss as she swirled about and away, "The only gift I need would be to have you when the time comes... keep digging your way out of that grave... can't have you smelling like soil too much." She winked, bowing once more in a mocking way, before heading out the door that she had come in. Lord Garland better stay alive, or there would be hell to pay... that was only she could think of as she headed back to her apartments, and her sister, to finish packing their belongings.
Garland smiled, looking across to Baela...why was it that everyone was saying that? He remembered Alerie telling him that....well, he had already come this far and lived, so perhaps he had to take it on board, stop while he could...the sacrafice had been made, perhaps. And it felt worthwhile, it felt justified, it felt like he had done the right thing. A Knight of the Reach, it's Lord in some chance of something, it felt like he was finally living to something that was more than bravery and the stories he felt like he was in. Death perhaps was worth fearing, Garland knowing it wasn't worth it if it meant never seeing Baela or feeling her that close again, her body by his side feeling like it was sitting next to a dragon's, and indeed, it was the easiest way to explain it at all.
"You aren't the first to say it, my Princess....but for you, I can try harder....to live." Garland gleefully said to her, a fleeting comment as she headed out, as he chuckled, knowing full well what Alerie said...well, perhaps he had learned his lesson now. And the grave he was in, whatever it was, he had to let go. He would need to walk soon, and while his body was getting better and he could begin to feel his toes and extremities far better, and it was just a case of eating well, drinking, and making sure his side was allowed to fully heal. If they made it through this, Garland only knew that then it would be worth all this pain, but for now, the situation needed his head first, and this could wait a little time.
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Several Hours Later
The meeting between Baela and Garland in the morning, followed by Willas and Alerie coming back felt a little disjointed, Garland thought to himself, but still, such happened when the madness desended outside, and he had been awake ever since.
The sound of fighting in the streets of the city, the sound of sword against sword, shield cracking against jaw, a hero standing undefeated amongst a pile of his fallen foes.
Or at least, that was what Aerys had imagined a battle to be like, him and Harys had faught against a few of Lyman's Essosi on their way to Garland's quarters, and it was quick, brutal, and wholly gutwrenching. This wasn't was war was like in his dreams, but apparently this was the real world. He'd known death from arrow, but never death from his own blade, and it hurt much worse than any cut. The only good thing to come from it was the sword that he managed to retrieve from a mercenary hand. Apparently those bastards thought they could just take Blackfyre for themselves, how foolish of them.
The Red Keep was being looted, whatever fights there were were short and small, so Aerys and Royce quickly found their way to Lord Tyrell's quarters. What guards were there had run off to take part in the fight, so Garland's room was guarded by a singular man wearing not but a courtly cloak and a smile... why he was smiling... never really passed Aerys' mind.
King and guard stopped, holding their swords at their sides.
"Lord Bar Emmon? You're still here?" The man's heavily lined face rested from it's smile.
"Ser Bar Emmon, my good father still holds the title of lord." Aerys had known Bar Emmon for a time, ever since they met during Aegon's tutoring, he'd have to be around five and sixty now, but his father still lived? Aerys shook his head, scanning the area for whatever persons aimed to stab the king in the back.
"Ser Bar Emmon, Ser Jaime if I am allowed to call you by your name, how fares Lord Tyrell?" Jaime paused, looking off to his left.
"He's alright, though not for much longer if he doesn't leave, how did you fare?" Aerys opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the whinny of a horse behind him, after looking over his shoulder, he noticed a much older man in heavy armor, the Targaryen dragon on his chest.
"We have not the time for pleasentries! Take the Lord Tyrell from his room immediately, or he burns with the rest of this cesspool when the Crakehalls get in." The Crakehalls were assaulting? Aerys grimaced, before allowing himself into Garland's room, rushing over to his bedside.
Garland adjusted himself up, hearing the boy's voice, not hearing it even prior, aware that it was the first time they would meet. But under these circumstances, it was never a good thing, no, never a good thing at all. Alerie was close, as she always was, and the fires and war that raged outside was now audible from this very keep itself.
"Aerys Targaryen, I cannot believe it is you. I'm sorry I couldn't come down for your crowning, I've been recovering from my wounds, and it turns out I won't walk for a little while." Garland simply said, as Alerie ran over, nodding to Bar Emmon, before she then shut the door. Garland did not know what he felt in regards to Aerys, but all he could say was that it was a good thing indeed that he had played his cards close, and let Aerys take the Seven Kingdoms, over Rhaenyra. Himself, in the small quarters of the Hand's Tower, he was still in pain, but able to move a little, able to at least rotate his legs and get some movement back, albeit he was still just too weak to hold his own weight on anything.
"They told me stories of what a beautiful child you looked like when you were younger, you look like a King indeed." He chuckled lightly, looking across at Aerys, and then over at Royce, nodding.
"Royce, I hear you're working with my uncle. That is good." The Tyrell Lord simply said, a little oblivious to the fact of what Aerys had said, aware that things were truly going to hell outside, that things were deteritorating. Lyman's Essosi may have been mostly cut down, but the fight was not calming down, and the Crakehall forces were making their inroads into the city, the Lion's Gate open and the others falling from attacking Westermen, flooding inside. It would be a protracted fight, but it would be one that was not in their favour, that much Garland could only guess. The news itself hardly suprised him, and he knew that in this moment, he had to tell Aerys what he had to tell him, to save them all. It felt horrid, it felt like something had to be done, in the heat of the moment. Garland was no fool, and he knew precisely what the boy Targaryen had brought, from the word that had been passed to him.
Royce crossed his arms, sighing. He placed a hand on his neck, which had been sore recently.
"I haven't been working with your uncle, not so much as he has been working with me, I've done nothing but be pushed around since I got here, Willas, though he apologized, Lyman, and now a few Essosi mercenaries, to their chagrin of course, but enough of that, we really should be leaving, House Valyrion have forced away any Crakehall galleys, so we should be safe at Driftmark." Aerys hushed the guard as he opened his mouth to speak again.
"I'm the king remember? I give the orders, thank you." Royce stood silently, nodding weakly before stepping back.
Aerys turned back, Blackfyre still in hand. He ran a hand through his surprisingly hairy face, before tensing suddenly.
"To hell with it, I'm not letting you travel, I'm going to hold this door until Lord Crakehall surrenders-"
Garland shook his head, as he looked across at Aerys and Royce, sitting up.
"No." Garland simply said, looking across at Aerys in particular, his voice holding with a certain vigour, a certain knowledge and a certain inevitability that he felt he had to say, he knew that it was truth.
"Look at us, we'll never make it out, not without losing everything we hold. You'll sacrifice everything you have to rule as a King on an island away from your Seven Kingdoms, and in turn, it'll take months before you reassert your rule. This "King" Tyget Crakehall could already have the Seven Kingdoms in his hand, by his coffers and by his men at that point. So we can't stop now, we have to hold this city, at all costs." Garland simply said, shaking his head once more.
"Aerys...they believe in a God that will cleanse them in the flames, and they'll murder us all too. They'll burn you, they'll burn us, they'll burn Rhaenyra and Baela, and they'll burn Royce, Willas and Footly. You need to ride Drogon, and at least thin their forces beyond those walls, reduce their size outside the walls, to some degree. Show your presence. If we don't do this, we won't hold our presence in this capital, and they'll attack without fear...we'll never get everyone out on Drogon's back neither Jadefyre's, so do something that makes you the Targaryen King you are. You'll never be a King of these Seven Kingdoms if you run, like you say." Garland paused for a second, before looking at Aerys once more.
"You'll be a King if you do something decisive, if you save your Seven Kingdoms from those who wish to set it on fire with the power of the Red God...it's the better good than the rape of this capital, and the loss of your power forever. I bow to your judgement, Aerys. It is up to you, but I am your Hand, your Regent, and I advise you, by the Seven, by your life, and by your power granted by the Mother, that you do this." He said, looking on at Aerys, knowing it was at least something he could try and do something of this, something that was frightening to say, but an act that might be enough to stop the worst of the attack from coming in.
Harys' eyes opened wide, and he walked up to interrupt. Aerys placed a finger in the center of his chest, pushing him back into his spot, which he took with bit lip. Turning back to Garland, Aerys looked down at the ground, silently thinking to himself. If he ran, yes he would have nothing, but if he did something drastic, he would be assassinated for being a madman, but mayhaps it was the only way, a dragon to break his fast on a burning army or something of the sort.
Aerys thought for a long while, a king in black steel, sitting silent for what seemed like hours in his own mind, what came to his mind was but a word, a singular word, one word upon which his fate rested upon.
"Regicide..." Regicide, the killing of a king, a crime commited by so many, a crime he knew he would have to deal with, one way or another. Attempted or successful.
"I will not burn this city, but a man will burn this day. Let it be known that your king flies for Casterly Rock, let it be known that Tyget Crakehall feasts upon the burning sup made from his house." Aerys grew madder and madder, a madman in his own head, but no matter what he thought, he knew that he only seemed madder on the outside.
"Let it be known that Tyget Crakehall and all of his retainers, all those he relied upon, he shall burn! Casterly Rock burns, but King's Landing stands until my return, the rebellion will be crushed by mine own hand at the source, then I shall return, Gerald Crakehall has his god and his flames, but who is the true master of flame? Let it be known, that I, Aerys Targaryen, the Third of that most regal name, I will bring peace, upon a throne of ashes and bones, upon a throne of Fire, and Blood!" Before anyone could respond, Aerys took his blade, and speared it into the ground, angrily screaming to some being only he could see. Ser Royce backed himself as far into a corner as he was allowed.
And the king laughed. Laughed not out of madness, but out of pleasure, pleasure brought about by his own mind.
Garland shook his head, looking out at the window before then looking back at Aerys. He exhaled, knowing it was not realistic.
"King's Landing will not hold, my King. Not for long enough." He said, looking to Royce in particular, looking over at him in the corner. Aerys may have seemed mad, but Garland could tell, he was a boy of three and ten, and indeed, with a father like his, it was expected. After all, he knew that if Aerys was to follow an order, it would be one that most likely would come down from him, and Garland knew what had to be said.
"King's Landing will not stand, because Gerald Crakehall, or whatever Crakehall is out there is going to rape, murder and burn every noble, peasant and trader he finds, for his God. We are outnumbered two to one, and as of now, while we have naval superiority, if we lose this city, we lose everything we fought for. Tyget's justice can come in time, Aerys. But for your survival here, you will have to do what a King would need to do. We have bled enough, Aerys. My men can hold the road to the Dragonpit, and you can do what you must. Then, we can deal with Tyget, and the whole Crakehall dynasty. Bring them to justice in front of the Seven, like with Daenys, and show them what a treasonous set of men recieve in punishment from the King." He said, his voice holding strong, despite his wound, as he clutched his side a little, the banadage coming a little loose as he adjusted it. The bandage had been adjusted prior, and part of the scar could be seen, though it was still being held together a little by the linen.
"I'm so happy to see that you're alive....we gave so much for this city already, I was stabbed myself, by the Seven. Thousands of my own men made sure that you could arrive in a city like this in safety. We cannot leave now. Do the right thing, Aerys. The boy inside is going to die, either by their fire on a wooden pyre....or by your own choice, to finally become the man who rules our Seven Kingdoms." Garland added, as Alerie nodded, staying close by Garland's side, looking on at Aerys.
"Garland, should I fetch Baela and Rhaenyra?" She asked, as Garland shook his head. She was brave, but even he knew that Alerie would never do it, not on her own.
"We can have Royce and the others do that. They need to follow. Three dragons could kill leagues of forces, Aegon the First was able to conquer our Seven Kingdoms like that. We only need it to defend our most beautiful capital city. Nothing more, nothing less."
Aerys snorted, laughing a small amount, he pulled his sword from the floor, spinning it in his hand.
"Whatever you're suggesting sounds bad, you want me to break something for you to fix? Are you suggesting I burn the city?... Well, then I guess all my travelling was for naught, hear this Garland, I will not do something mad, whether it costs my life or not, I won't simply destroy what my family worked so hard to protect, a king needs his throne Garland, just as you need your Highgarden." Harys walked back up, Aerys moved to shush him, but the knight simply batted the hand away.
"I've heard enough from both of you." He opened the door to Lord Tyrell's chambers, grabbing Aerys by the ear and pushing him out.
Slamming the door shut, Harys turned to Lord Tyrell, angrily placing his hands akimbo.
"Tell me, Gerald Crakehall's red god tells him to burn, yes?" He leant over, resting himself on the foot of Garland's bed.
"But what kind of man is Gerald Crakehall? Would he burn thousands of innocents to satisfy his god? The answer is no, I met Gerald a time ago, when he was a young lad, came to King's Landing with his uncle Kevan, he was a slim thing, kind and just, I doubt that he'd burn a city just for a laugh, for now, the best thing we can do is protect ourselves, wait for him to take the Red Keep, then we hope that we get just treatment, I doubt he'd be willing to kill a Lord Paramount without his brother's approval, or even with." He stood up, crossing his arms.
"You don't live as long as I have by taking stupid chances."
Garland didn't know what to say, respecting the Kingsguarder's voice, knowing it was one of experience, knowing full well he had to abide by it. But still, it seemed mad, mad to abandon all of it. The Red God would no doubt, take no prisoners, and for whatever reason Gerald was attacking, it seemed too sudden, too out of the blue, it seemed inappropriately timed, like a mad dash rather than an assault made after wearing the city out more. If he had wanted control, he would have done it a week ago, not a day after Aerys had taken the crown. Something did not add up about this situation, and even Garland could tell that while Royce was right, he had to try.
"And what for Aerys? They'll murder the child! You know what they'll do to him....if Gerald wants his brother on the Throne, he'll kill him!" Garland simply said, as he knew that he had to speak those words, knowing they came from his heart, that indeed, it wasn't just his soul worth saving...he had heard tales from Dorne, and enough was enough, when it came to these believers. If the rumors were to be believed, Garland didn't know he Gerald would do any different, and refused to almost believe it, in some sense.
"And that chance we take, Harys...what then? Oh, a man like him will have nothing to lose if he has captives and a brother with a weak claim, look at the political picture. You may know Gerald, but I know that if he wants to run a Kingdom, all he needs do is get rid of the old order and instate the new." Garland added, shaking his head.
"I don't want to do this, Harys. But I'm acting in the name of the Crown, not my homeland. If I was, I would have had us on the boats, to Driftmark, before the Redwynes shipped me back to Highgarden so I can rule a neutral, seperated Reach in peace, then give in after a bloody war against the people who know of Aerys's survival." The Reach Lord felt sick inside, he was shaking a little, though the words were coming out strong, he seemed like he was in control.
"If I were Gerald Crakehall, I would act on whatever advantage I had...and bringing the Red God to our capital, regardless of wheather it burns people or not, it doesn't matter, it is fear. Fear is the greatest weapon that any man can wield. He already has his fire. We have ours. It wouldn't take an awful lot. Burn the walls, you'll minimize the damage and cut off reinforcements." Garland simply said back to Royce, thinking it over.
"We are both important people for him right now, Royce. Aerys is right.....I know it is wrong, but it is for the survival of our very Kingdoms, to holds millenia of our fibers together. I know the Kingdoms don't need, or want any more bloodshed. So we can end this here, and by the time word reaches the rest of the Kingdoms and my vassal lords, the Crakehalls will disarm, and face justice for what they have done, they'll know our fear, and the costs will come to little compared to what we will have done. I would want anything but this. But otherwise, the results will be the same."
"Aye! Aye! You are completely right! But at what cost would it be? The westerlands are already showing signs of unrest with the new faith forced upon them, and they only burn one person at a time, we would kill thousands! Aerys would be known as the next Maegor the Cruel! I never wanted this, who did! But considering-" The door burst open, Aerys stomped in, followed by Ser Bar Emmon. Jaime crossed his arms, smirking slightly.
"My levies are here, they brought food to help us last, but I guess that ship has sailed, maybe we can flee on their boats... wait a second, isn't the royal fleet still in harbor?"
Aerys rubbed the back of his head, his face turning red.
"I uh... may have forgotten." Ser Royce also turned red, forgetting this.
"We were never blockaded, we could have left any time we wanted." Jaime grew more agitated by the second by this obvious blunder. Aerys frowned.
"Well, this is certainly more boring than my idea, but... I guess we just leave? Let the city fall? Hope for Gerald to not burn it?"
"I knew of it already, Sers. It's a big ask of me. Lord Owain Tumbleton, as well as several members of House Stanton, Lord Rowan, they'll be probably left to die if we leave, the order won't reach them in time if we want to buy enough time. We can try, but it will be difficult. I don't like doing that either...and I hate hoping for things. Hope is a terrible thing." Garland said, shaking his head. He had to give in. It was a bold order to give, but he couldn't win, not here. He knew that at least the point had been put across.
"There's 60,000 Reachmen that still could be called to war. So if we leave, we must be swift to do what is right, and finish this war before the throes of winter arrive. Let him have his seat for a a few weeks. If you're right, then they'll see what decision they made comes to what they deserve." Lord Tyrell merely added, looking over at Alerie, her concern on her face as she came close to Garland.
"Brother, I thought we're agreed, we can't let them take the seat of our King back, not by any means..."
"Alerie, for our sakes, and for the sake of the Kingdoms, we need to know when to give in. Not to die by insanity or some honor, but to live to fight another day, to bring them to what they do deserve. The Redwyne Fleet is half mobilized in Blackwater Bay already, they were assisting in the provision of supplies to the capital. They'll take us from Driftmark to home. Loras will have already called the banners if he has half a brain cell on what my wishes were, and once we're on sea, we can even get a raven home to tell them we're alive. Though...wait." Garland said to his sister, swallowing a lump in his throat. He had to think this through, as he shook his head once more, looking to Jamie, remembering he mentioned levies.
"How many men do you have, Ser Bar Emmon?"
Ser Bar Emmon shook his head, placing a hand on his forehead.
"Well, I have around four hundred men on those ships..." He sighed, before shooting up and chuckling.
"You thought that I was sad didn't you? Well, let me tell you, my father Lord Luceon has about a thousand floating up the bay, mostly provided by lord Joffrey Valyrion, and considering his fleet isn't far behind... if we hold out until nightfall, we should have around five thousand Blackwater soldiers ready for battle."
"Can we hold out until nightfall?" Aerys questioned.
"I mean I'm not sure, considering the amount of soldiers holding the Red Keep, we may be able to, but at a large cost." Harys answered in his commanding voice. Jaime turned to Lord Tyrell.
"And if we hold out longer, than we should have the might of Dragonstone behind us, another five thousand, perhaps we could use them as a distraction of a sort? Hold the port, allowing us to sail south and gather the levies of the northern Stormlands? Send the rest towards the Reach with you, Lord Tyrell?" Harys covered his mouth, moving into the corner of the room.
"Lady Baratheon is still in the city, if she dies we lose Lord Gris' support, we cannot simply leave with anyone still in the keep, we have to fight our way in there and find her." They all turned to the Lord Regent, waiting for his response.
Alerie looked on, she walked over.
"I might have something better than that, the messenger has still not been sent to the Yunkish navvies, to inform them of our changes in plans. 20,000 men, that we could call into the capital. Give them about four to five days, and we can have them here, rather than in the Stormlands. Add that to the forces of Dragonstone....and perhaps it is an alternative. It will be bloody warfare, but better than what we suggested." She said, looking to Garland, before looking back at Harys.
"The Stormlands themselves are embroiled in civil war, and the last thing they want is a Reachman taking their forces in the north. The men of Tarth should be already on their way, some 5,000 themselves, but I doubt we can find more, unless Ser Bar Emmon's forces are bolstered. That is all we have....and no doubt, when they find out that we didn't quell their rebellions, we'll be facing problems." Alerie added, as Garland nodded.
"That is a good thought, and I am willing to risk that. We have around thirteen-thousand men right here in the city, against thirty-five to forty thousand, but we can still hold our defenses well, to drag out the fight for as long as we can, holding the port and the major points of the city against the enemy. We were waiting for this....and all we can do is buy time." Garland added as he thought a little on another topic altogether, regarding two other important women in his life.
"Rhaenyra and Baela could lead the Dragonstone forces and at least remind those Crakehalls entering that we have dragons, burn a few, then leave and fetch the others...let that much happen, Aerys. If we have 10,000 men to add to our own 20,000 mercenaries and existing 13,000, we can beat them back. But it will be long, drawn out and bloody. Thousands are still going to die, civilian, soldier, noble, peasant. It would only take one slip of a breach, and the situation I described earlier happens." He added, his mind running quick, knowing that he didn't know the full details of the situation, but at the very least, he had to map something out, some sort of defensive.
"We can try and hold for as long as we can...." He said, coughing a little in the middle of his sentence, sitting up a little more, driven by his word, driven to at least think for once, to put his head to some half-decent thought now.
"But it is in the Seven's hands wheather we can make it to the end of the week, or if in the next hour, my head, my sister's head, your head, Aerys's head, and several dragon heads will be mounted on spears. The Dragon Pit cannot fall....by the Seven, Aerys, you know what would happen if they made it there. It was a stroke of luck dragons returned to this world, and 500 Reachmen are all that stand between three dragons and the enemy's capability to kill them in their home."
Bar Emmon frowned dutifully, his milky skin seeming to be transparent in the growing sunlight.
"I'll give most of my forces to you, I'll wait at the docks for my father, then I'll march for the dragonpit, I'll try to hold it for as long as possible, hopefully the Dragonstone forces come to relieve me quick, but your goal must be to recover Ladies Baratheon and Targaryen, I'm no tactical genius, but my father is in a league all his own, once he arrives we have a much greater chance, but for now, we need to protect the dragons, hopefully he arrives soon."
"I'll lead the Dragonpit detachment until we're relieved, Aerys needs to find the Ladies Targaryen and the other kingsguards, Jullon is still unconscious, so we need to get him to safety. Lord Tyrell will remain at the docks with Bar Emmon, once the Blackwater forces have landed he'll be taken to Driftmark." Royce spoke, before turning to Garland.
"That is alright? Right My Lord Regent?"
"If we can hold the Red Keep for long enough, Maegor's Holdfast may be a better place to wait for myself, Jullon and Lady Baratheon. Get Alerie out to Driftmark, with her Handmaiden, do that for me at least, Ser Bar Emmon. We might be outnumbered, but we can stall them. I know Lord Owain isn't the brightest commander, but he has a simple command, so he'll follow it. Otherwise, I'll stay and advise. I need to be here." Garland simply added, as he rotated himself around, resting his feet on the stone floor, not being able to put a heavy amount of weight onto them, but able to at least rest his feet, and keep some vague level of movement. He was not going to walk, not yet, but he was not as when he woke up, fighting the Stranger's call to death.
"Royce, let Willas command my force. I know he's Kingsguard, but he's the most competent commander in the city that we have right now. He can at least keep the line, while you sort out the logistics. If the King stays in this city, then he will prove to his people that he is truly indeed brave, willing to hold his Throne in the face of these usurpers." The Lord Tyrell simply said, Garland wiping his brow, looking to Alerie. She took the water from the table by the side of his bed and passed to him, allowing him to get a drink down his throat, before he looked over at Bar Emmon.
"That is truly good to hear. In these times, whatever means we can win this fight. It will be difficult, and there will be sacrafices, but I can promise you, we fought hard enough to get here. We rout the Crakehalls to where they came from, we'll be able to get the rest of the Reach to invade the Westerlands, and we'll have our King's power unquestioned."
Aerys shook his head, they really expected him to just wait? He wasn't just going to leave his guards and dragon to die without him.
"I was trained by Royce and my uncle, I'm not a worthless pawn, I will go to the dragonpit, a brave king doesn't simply hide in his castle, and I won't let Drogon die alone if it comes to that." He swung his sword in a small arc, showing at least a little posture, though not even close to Royce's level. Royce grimaced, clapping a hand over the young king's shoulder.
"I won't allow it, you remain in the holdfast until the enemy is routed." Aerys pushed the hand off, growling.
"I will not remain here, I will join you, and I will kill as many of them as neccessary to protect my family!" Royce held his hand back a second, before retaining his composure and sighing.
"Fine, but you will remain behind Willas and I, and once Lord Bar Emmon arrives, you will ride with him in the back of his forces."
Garland nodded, looking over at Aerys.
"I agree with Harys. The men will fight harder if they see your presence, but you still have much to learn about swords and warfare, and we will keep you in the rear." He said, stretching his arm a little, wincing as he looked at his bandage once more.
"If I bloody could, I would be out there. Seven fucking Hells." His voice was a little provincial, indeed it was, as he put his legs back up, Alerie putting the canteen back onto the table, as she sat at the end of the bed.
"Then we're agreed? We hold the city?"
"The dragons only as a last resort. I still suggest we use Rhaenyra and Baela to cut off the siegers outside, to frighten them, before they leave for Dragonstone."
"Hang on, I still haven't said my piece." The large soldier wearing the Targaryen colors entered the room, holding a two-hander over his left shoulder.
"I say that we still have opportunities we haven't explored, the Red Keep hides several hidden passageways, that is how Daenys Targaryen escaped the Black Cells, we may use those as a burrow for our wounded." His voice was gravelly, and his open hand moved with every word he said. Royce looked at the man suspiciously.
"And who are you?" The large man turned his helmeted head towards the old knight, looking down upon him.
"A member of Dragon's Rest's personal guard, well, city guard... okay... woods patrol." The man sighed before the last statement, as if he were disappointed.
Garland and Alerie looked on, shocked.
"Did you just say Daenys escaped?" Alerie asked, the look of shock on both their faces justified, both aware that he had been locked in that cell with a large number of guards by his side....and he had gotten out? Why hadn't this come to them more recently?
The large man nodded, his right arm akimbo.
"I witnessed it with my own eyes, he fell into the Blackwater and I haven't seen him since, but enough of that, do you agree to my plan?"
Garland shook his head, shocked. The man wore full plate, he didn't even remove his helm...it was risky, but Garland didn't want to complicate things. It was already mad enough as it was, too much was going on, and too much had to be solved.
"Seven Hells, knowledge of these things never gets through in time here....I agree with that notion. Just so long as they aren't aware of our presence." Garland added, shaking his head.
"And here I was, going to try him. It is how it is." The Reachman added, as Alerie looked out the window, the distant smoke and fire rising a little, at the farthest gates, as she turned back to the man. If he wanted to kill them all, he would have done it already, and he seemed like he knew something, not in a way that seemed entirely nefarious, but honest. This wasn't Daenys Targaryen, that much was true, he seemed like a barreling figure, perhaps a head above Garland's or Willas's height.
A crow flew into the room through the window, landing on the man's right wrist, it's eyes were oddly... expressive, in a way nobody in the room could explain, and Aerys couldn't shake the feeling of some other presence in the room.
"Good, then I'll retrieve Ser Jullon, the rest of you focus on the Dragonpit or whatever it is that you are planning." Harys was baffled.
"You're going alone?" The man moved to exit the room, but turned back to nod, and then he left, without another word.
Ser Bar Emmon shook his head, shrugging in confusion and bewilderment, before turning back towards the group.
"So... Lady Alerie, come with me, I'll take you to the docks. I guess the rest of you have to start soon, or else we will have no time left." He bowed, before leaving as well, beckoning for the Lady Tyrell to follow.
"You stay strong, Garland." Alerie said, reaching over and kissing her brother on the cheek, as he kissed her back, smiling.
"Now it's up to you to not die on me. Get back to Highgarden. Just do what you must, I'll make sure we hold the peace." He simply said back, as she ran her hand through his hair, and then over his scar a little, looking into his eyes once more. Raising her dress, she walked over to Bar Emmon's side, looking back in at Garland. The confusion was clear in here, and even Garland didn't entirely know what was going on, but he had to continue on with it.
"I wish I could follow you out to the Dragonpit, but this is sadly the body I broke. I'll need to walk again when I recover fully, whatever pain it might be. I can run things from Maegor's Holdfast, and a good number of men." Garland simply said to the two, as he put his feet back down on the stone, putting his hands up. He was going to need to be carried, or at least, held a little by the other two men in the room, if he was going to go anywhere.
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Walking up the steps, Lyman was wounded heavily, his shirt cut open, by the front of the throne. He mumbled, coughing blood as Willas took the Poleaxe in both hands, and looked down.
"No words, Lyman. This is how your line ends." And with that, Willas let the axe handle sink to the floor as he then raised the Poleaxe once more, and he rammed the pike straight into his throat, bludgeoning his fair face, with the axe's side as it went in, snatching the life out of him faster than could be thought. So it seemed here then, that the last living Lannister was killed as a result of his outright stupidity. He was not going to shit gold, Ser Willas thought to himself. He looked at Dawn, thrown down by the chair, the big chair built of swords that a King would call his seat. Taking it, he inspected it. It was Dawn indeed...the sword of Dayne, and Lyman had it? Willas was too confused, sick and horrified to know, but he took the sword, knowing that it was probably safer in his hands right now than just left behind here...it was a precious sword, and the next time he saw Edlrick, he would give it back, on a Reachman's honor.
Reachman's honor didn't feel alive here however, as he looked across, Willas not in visible shock on his face, or horror, just....a certain blankness, a certain lack of direction, in the immediate aftermath of the chaos that unfolded. Dead Dothraki, with gold, swords and other Reachmen in hand, it felt like insanity. Walking down the steps, his footsteps from his steel boots were in blood as he stepped over a Dothraki's body, next to another Reachman's, most of the men thinned out, Willas himself plastered. Many of the men were...it had been unspeakable, it had turned ugly the very moment Aerys had left. There was no Wildfire, and the men were smart enough to know it...it was a complete bluff, and it was one that Willas was lucky to take. The Essosi and Dothraki fought like hell, and with the men that entered this room, a relatively expected number were now dead. Willas had taken a couple of hits, but his breastplate had glanced whatever curved swords they had, as he kept himself at a distance from the skilled fighters and picked them off a little further away. He felt dazed, a little overwhelmed...he had lost count of what he had done. Flickers went through his mind. It had been brutal, and the whole hall had been fighting, it had been vicious, loud, and horrid. Every corridor inside, from the Treasury to here, had men being killed, or in the process of it. His Poleaxe was completely covered, stained in blood, from it's last victim, the Lannister's red pouring off the end of the pole like the last of a drop of a pale wine.
"Continue sweeping the Red Keep, if you find a Dothraki, kill them, no quarter! My guard, you're with me. We head out." Willas said, his voice not trembling, but weathered, as he looked at his gauntlets. There was an awful lot of blood there, and the sandstone beneath his feet that formed the floor had blood on every single crack and line, it was a small pool of blood, in fact. Most of them were dead, but at the cost of a few dozen men. It was never a good thing, as he stepped over a couple more bodies, looking around, just wondering what the hell to make of all of this. It was a slow walk, it was one that wanted to make him sick, but he had to hold. He could still see straight, and knew that any cut or bruise was minor, but it was the stench, the sheer sight of it, that made it what it was. All around the Hall, it seemed there were bodies, blood, and the Iron Throne overlooked it all grandly.
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Baela and Rhaenyra had finished packing up all their personal belongings when the bells had begun to toll. They panged and ranged with one message, the city was being attacked. Both sisters would stop, looking at one another with disbelief. Now, of all times, the Crakehall forces had finally decided to act, to press whatever advantage they had, and try to sack the capital. Rhaenyra was first to act, rushing to the foyer where a handful of her guards milled about, they too having heard the bells tolling. At the forefront of them were two men, Ser Trevan and Ser Footly. She skidded to a halt before her loyal knight, before speaking to him at length able what needed to be done.
"Ser Trevan... this is bad. We need to get to the Dragon Pit now... before things get too chaotic for us to take action. Ser Footly, I need you to go and recall what forces are mustering at the docks, and have them follow you to the Dragon Pit and reinforce what men still remain there. The dragons of House Targaryen must not die." She took a breath, before turning back to Ser Trevan. "Forget the crates and belongings, I can live without them, as can Baela. How many men do we have here at the keep? How many men can we ride with to the Dragon Pit?"
Ser Trevan was caught off guard by the sudden level of command and seriousness in Princess Rhaenyra's voice. She was not the normal calm, cool, and perhaps tender woman she normally was. Snapping back to reality, he spoke quickly. "My Lady, we have perhaps two, no, two hundred and twenty men here in the keep. Perhaps half of them are ready to ride out in force... I could get all of them ready within ten minutes." He looked at the princess, seeing the grave concern in her voice and the tension in her body. But, before he could speak, she strode forth and out the door of her apartments.
"We will ride with whoever is ready, have the rest grab what they can, and head to the docks, we must do all we can to provide a safe passage out of the city. Dragons or not, these Crakehall men will stop it nothing till either we are prisoners, dead, or they all lie dead. Baela, you ready to ride?" Rhaenyra looked at her younger sister, smiling at her, offering out her right hand... "Let's show the world why dragons are to be feared."
The two sisters and their guards rushed down the stairways and passages to the Red Keep's stables, running to the quickest means of getting from the Red Keep to the Street of Sisters, and from there, to the Dragon Pit high upon Rahenys's Hill. Some of the Crownlander forces were already assembling, corraling the horses into some sort of sensible formation. Rhaenyra came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, looking at across the courtyard as Tyrell men were rushing to the keep, fighting amongst what looked like sellswords that had come in during the previous days. High above a window shattered, and within moments, a body plummeted down into the courtyard, splattering onto the hard cobble of the Red Keep.
Rhaenyra turned away to throw up her breakfast, the sight of that mangled body was un-nerving, the screaming as the person fell, before they died upon impact. After another moment of upchucking, she turned back, looking at the chaos as it unfolded before her. The body of the Tyrell Guard was shortly joined by two more, that of a sellsword, and that of a handmaiden. It was a gruesome sight, one that caused not only Rhaenyra to throw up. Things were definitely worse now, as whoever these sellswords belonged to had either betrayed their master, or their master betrayed the King.
Baela moved to the front of the party, grabbing her sister, and turning her towards the stables. Whatever was happening in the keep, little could be done to stop it. They had a different goal, a different path that they would need to follow. Innocents would die, there was nothing they could do to stop it, but if they did not get to the Dragon Pit, the entire city could be lost. Baela took the lead now, drawing her sword to cut a man down as he chased after a scully maid. His back split open to the Valaryian steel blade, expelling his life out, before his body crumpled to the floor, twitching in its death throws.
They had to fight their way across the courtyard, as a few sellswords tried to block their way to the stables, which these vile traitors intended to use as their own means of escape. Still, little could be done to prevent losses, as the eighty men were dwindled to sixty three. Baela recieved a little cut to her right arm, but ensured that the man who dealt such a blow recieved his just deserts tenfold, lopping his head off, before cutting down another man. She gritted her teeth as they pressed forward.
Ser Trevan and Lord Rykker rallied the remainder of their men about the two princesses, gathering within the stables, and begining to mount up with the horses that were ready to go. They could not wait any longer. As every moment spent here meant another moment closer the Crakehall forces were to cutting off the thoroghfare to the Dragon Pit. The Crownlanders were gathering themselves, strapping shields and armor in their last pre-charging forth measures, dreading the worst, and hoping for the best. Ser Trevan swallowed hard, adjusting his helmet, while looking out at the carnage that was engulfing the city.
The doors to the Great Hall opened once more, to a different sight, as the Reachmen left, the sight inside covered by their number, though it was significantly less than the one that had entered, sweeping out. It had not been good, and Willas was leaving for good reason, for a reason that involved Rhaenyra and Baela Targaryen. He had protected them for the last two weeks, so finding them and making sure they had their heads on. It did not take long at all to find them, the Crownlanders a good indication of wherever they were, the the Tyrell concluded.
They swept through to the Stables, moving through, as Willas could only wipe the blood from his forehead, looking like he had literally swam in the stuff. Words didn't form at first, as he looked up at the Crownlanders, walking through, a significant knock against his left arm leaving him a little weak, but just weathered. He could fight on, he told himself. He was a little dazed...as he looked over at the two, alongside Ser Trevan and Lord Rykker, exhaling, Willas looking very clearly like he had waded through a bloodbath. Oh, he didn't want to begin.
"Lyman Lannister is dead, or whatever the hell he was. Almost all of his men are dead too, but they took a good number of ours. The Red Keep is almost secure...but those dragons of yours need to either fly now or...we know the consequences." Willas simply said to the two, looking a little worse for wear, though of course, he didn't the time to exlpain what had entirely happened in there. All that could be said was, he had more than enough blood to make it look like he had walked out of a Butcher's and dealt with far, far too many animals, blood particularly staining his right hand, the mail and plate almost completely covered in a red stain. His men followed close, as Willas spat, wiping his bloodied gauntlet, the Kingsguarder looking like he had gone through one hell of a fight.
Ser Trevan wheeled his horse around, taking notice of Ser Willas... "Ser Willas, are you alright? What the hell happened in there, where did these sellswords come from?" He raised his shield up to better situate it upon his arm, before turning around once more to look at the battered looking knight.
Willas wiped his brow once more, looking back at the Great Hall in the distance, then back at Trevan, shaking his head.
"Fucking Lannisters....I don't know, but if there is any more of them, they're not smart, so they'll run or die." Willas said bitterly, as he adjusted the poleaxe in his hands, the pike and the axe on the end of the pole coated in red, not one part of it clean, though it seemed that it wasn't gored and covered in guts...most of that had spilled off.
"I'm fine...oh what in Seven Hells is going on down there? Are the Crakehalls attacking?" Willas asked Trevan, or any Knight, Reachmen moving past, cleaning up the bodies as best they could while another group headed out towards the city, where the distant noises and smoke trails could be seen.
The Crownlanders were almost done gearing up, the last of the combat ready men mounting up, when Princess Rhaenyra rode up beside Ser Trevan. She smiled at Sir Willas, bowing her head to him, before looking off into the distance. "The Crakehalls besige the city as we speak, and not in a passive manner anymore. They are assualting the walls and gates. I mean to take flight upon my dragon, and show the world the power of the Targaryens... You should get your nephew, and make for the docks... you have little time to waste if you wish for him to survive the chaos." She spoke in a tone that brokered a sense of urgency and warning, as though eluding to the possibility of things going far worse than they already were.
Baela moved her horse forward, to whisper something quietly into Rhaenyra's ear, before she too looked at Willas, and smiled. From her saddlebag, she pulled out a white rose, perhaps taken from the castle gardens, and tossed it towards Ser Willas. "Catch." She called out playfully. "I need your nephew to get that, he is my Pale Rose... and I would like it if he lived to see another day." She motioned with her right hand for the Crownlanders to rally up, signalling their impending departure. It was Rhaenyra that spoke now.
Willas nodded, catching the rose with his bloody gauntlet, looking across to the two Targaryens in their scaled and mail armour, as he caught the end of the pole in his hand, placing the handle into the ground. The rose was truly a beautiful one, and yet Willas did not understand the context of it, of what it entirely was.
"I trust in you to do the right thing...but be careful, my Princesses. Keep them at bay, then do what you can to get soldiers to join us from Claw Isle and Dragonstone, if you leave. I'll make sure Garland's safe, but I need to lead the defense of this city if we are to have a chance...the more time we can get holding the Red Keep for everyone that is left, the better. Alerie has mentioned men to me that may be able to reinforce our position, so if we can hold the line for a little longer...then perhaps the tide will turn. And no doubt, you know what you're doing." Garland said, as he heard Rhaenyra speak, the Crownlanders assembling near her, among the other Reachmen that were hiving around the area. His voice was a tactical one, as he knew that Rhaenyra had words to say.
"Ser Willas... whatever happens today, we do this for our Kingdom... never forget that. The sacrifices we must make for the greater good, they are worth it, no matter what people will say when this battle is over and done with. May the sun rise for you many more years to come, and may it breathe life unto you, your kin, and the fields and gardens of Highgarden. Till we meet again..." Rhaenyra bowed her head deeply, before donning her helmet, and beckoning her mount into the center of the mustering formation.
"Until we meet again, Princess Rhaenyra. You are wise to act...when needs must, you know ." Willas quickly said to her, as she placed her helm over her white locks, and rode her steed into formation, as Willas sighed. Footly was with them, and while the orders seemed clear to keep them safe, no amount of talking would change that fact, that Visaxes and Jadefyre had to leave, before the worst could happen. They had to move quickly, and Willas knew that the Crownlanders would keep their Princesses secured, and their dragons too. Perhaps it would turn the tide...though just how far, he did not know. For now, he had to check on Garland, and then head down to the city, and help in whatever way he could.
The Crownlanders rallied about their two princesses, unfurling their dragon banners, and steeling themselves for the chaos the awaited them in the city below. Rhaenyra mouthed a silent prayer, while Baela moved to her sister's side, placing an armored hand on her shoulder. "Ready?" She said, smiling to her sister, doing what she could to help prepare the two of them for whatever they may face. It was going to be a long hard ride, but if they were quick enough, if luck favored them, the two would make it to the Dragon Pit, and from there, to the skies above. Rhaenyra nodded, closing her helmet, and beckoned her horse forward, as the host of Crownlanders, who numbered roughly one hundred and twelve, sallied forth, out of the Red Keep, pouring across its massive drawbridge, and out onto the main thoroughfare the led out of Aegon's High Hill, to the city below. It was a race against time, and only fate could fortell what was to happen next.
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