บท 4: {4} A Red Dawn
Aegors hand was clasped around the golden chain that hung at his neck. He felt the hard wood on his back as he stared up at the corner. There was a spider there, spinning it's intricate web. Focused. Uncaring of the world around it. Aegor flipped his dagger in his hand, caught it, then flipped it again. The spider jumped again to the other side of its web leaving a string trail. Aegor hated spiders. With a twang the knife point stabbed into the wood. He had missed the spider by centimetres.
Aegor was supposed to be at his lessons, instead he sat in the rafters of Willem's solar. It was three months ago since he had escaped from the Faceless Men. If escaped was the right word, in truth they had allowed him to go. During that time he had been trying to heal the rift that had formed between him and Dany. He had been so focused on becoming strong enough to protect her that he had forgotten to be present in her life. She had grown so much while he had been playing at swords. He swore to himself he would fix that.
He had not been to his lessons for nearly a fortnight. Not since Willem had gotten sick. One moment he was strong as an auroch then he was bedridden the next. Aegor had spent two days by his side, Dany was there also. But soon Aegor found he could not stand the room, it smelt like death. Not the glorious death or the peaceful one Willem deserved. It smelt like a slow painful death. Now Aegor from that room more than he did his studies. In that room there was nothing he could do.
The bastard Snow had been in the stables, a small place with three horses, when he had seen the visitors asking for an audience with 'King Viserys Targaryen'. They were mercenaries by the look and Aegor did not think them trustworthy. Aegor knew that if Willem was in a suitable state to receive them then Aegor might convince the old knight to include Aegor in the meeting. However it would be Viserys himself who would receive these visitors and there was little chance the King in exile would include his bastard nephew.
So Aegor snuck through a window and sat in the rafters of the high ceilinged room, watching the spider. He twisted his dagger from the wood at the door opened. Viserys led, taking his seat at the head of the long black table. Three mercenaries followed, a giant man who introduced himself as Mero the Titans Bastard, a small man who seemed to shrink in on himself, and a confident, eccentric man with deep blue hair and a golden moustache.
Ser Arthur stood behind his King. The Sword in the Morning stood ominously, steel plate covering him, the Targaryen three headed dragon was emblazoned on his chest each dragon's eyes being purple gems. His left arm, or lack of, was covered by a pearly white half cloak that fell only on that side of his body. The knight also wore a great full faced helmet that hid his serious features, his hard unforgiving eyes, and his short greying beard.
They talked for half an hour, Aegor listened. The mercenaries had been hired by some Magister in Pentos to bring the Targaryen King and Princess. Mero ensured the Magister was a loyal Targaryen man who wanted to see the usurper disposed and the rightful king restored. Aegor could clearly see Viserys believed the words, Ser Arthur however did not and eventually the Kingsguard was able to convince Viserys to send away the mercenaries. However Aegor saw it plain on his face that he was not happy with the decision.
After that meeting the mercenaries slunk away as did Viserys and Ser Arthur. Aegor, having nothing else to do and not wanting to go to his lessons, collected his short sword and went to see Ser Willem. The air was heavy in that room, sweetened by the smell of medicines. Dany was there when Aegor arrived and they sat together making small talk yet none really paid any attention to the conversation, this was not a place for happiness.
Dany left eventually after she could no longer bare seeing Willem in such a state. When she did Aegor found himself unable to stare at Willem's pained face without Dany's presence for strength. Instead he paced around the room. He found himself inspecting Willem's armour. It was shining ring-mail under plate, a simple visored helmet and a longsword on a silver buckled belt. The armour and sword had been displayed on a stand in the corner of the room but it had not been worn for many years. There was also a round wooden shield leaning against the stand, it had an iron rim and displayed the sigil of House Darry.
Just then Aegor heard a mumbling from behind him. It was hit the first time Ser Willem had done so. He was always dipping in and out of a dreaming state induced by Milk of the Poppy and so was often caught mumbling to people long dead. Aegor went to his side to hear what he was saying.
"My Prince...y-you must go...the Trident....the Trident." His eyes fluttered and he saw Aegors shadowed form sitting over him.
"The usurper will kill your father...he will....can't let him.....must stop him." His hand clung weakly to Aegors own.
Then Aegor heard a different commotion, the sound of battle, coming from outside. The door burst open as Viserys and Dany hurried in. Viserys had a longsword clutched in his hand but Aegor knew he had no skill with the blade. Dany however looked terrified and she ran to her bastard nephew as soon as she saw him. Aegor embraced her without hesitation, whispering that he would keep her safe.
"Aegor! It's madness they're fighting in the courtyard!" Tears welled in her eyes and she dug her head into into Aegors shoulder, grateful for the comfort of his embrace.
"Yes!"-Cough-"Fighting....the Riverlands." Just as Aegor was about to whisper, again, how he would protect Dany Ser Willem spoke again.
"Targaryen...must live...the name must live on. I will protect them....if I can....must protect them." Aegor knew he was speaking to Rhaegar, or maybe he was speaking to Rhaella now. It mattered not, Aegor took his words as if they were spoken to him. The Targaryen name must live on. Aegor would protect them, if he could.
"Be safe Dany." Aegor whispered hoarsely into her ear and there was fear in her eyes when she looked up at him. He pushed his dagger into her hands then left her tight embrace.
First he went to the side of the bed, picked up his short sword and strapped the belt around him. He passed Viserys who stood dumbly in the middle of the room. The Targaryen looked scornfully at his bastard nephew but Aegor ignored him. Now the bastard stood before the armour of Ser Willem Darry. Aegor knew he had to be quick yet even if he wished to put on all the armour none of it would have fit him. The bastard was only twelve and a half while Ser Willem was a large man, tall and muscled.
Instead Aegor only grabbed the helmet, it was oversized and the visor only covered the top half of his face as it was not a full faced helm. But it was better than nothing and so Aegor strapped it around his chin. Then he loosened the brown leather belt, attached to which was the longsword on its scabbard. He slung the sword over his shoulder, pulling the buckle so tight it hurt. Ser Arthur had always told him it was easier to draw a sword over your shoulder during battle.
Finally he hefted the Darry shield, stapling it to his forearm then he turned. Viserys scowled but said nothing, he did not like the fact he would cower while his bastard nephew fought but he liked the thought of battle even less. Dany however begged. She pleaded for him to not leave, to keep them safe but he had made up his mind. After promising to return to her safe he turned to Viserys as he was at the door.
"You keep her safe or I will slit you navel to gullet." With that he turned and left.
"Aegor, hold my sword." The voice surprised him.
It was Ser Arthur Dayne. The Sword in the Morning. He stood with his back to Aegor, staring down the king hallway, it was lit by a iron chandelier covered in dim candles. Aegor did as he was bid and took the sword. Dawns hilt was beautiful and invited him to draw the blade but he did not just holding it.
"You took longer than I expected." The knight said still not turning to face him. There were people outside the door at the hallways end, axes falling and cutting into wood.
"I'm sorry to disappoint Ser." Arthur laughed at that.
"I hoped with every part of my being you would stay in that room were I could protect you. I knew you would not." The knight reached his hand into his half cloak and withdrew his helm, securing it on his head, the bright amethyst star shining in its front as he turned to the bastard.
Aegor presented the sword to the man, hilt first. Arthur's hand ram over the purple star in the pommel then down to the hilt where he gripped and pulled. He smiled as the pale blade came gracefully from its sheath. His eyes were stormy yet they glowed with an excitement. Aegor looked up at the tall man. One armed he stood, every small movement made a chorus of metal clinks. The knight turned to face the door. He set the point of Dawn on the stone and rested his hand on the pommel.
"The window leads to the stable roof, from there you should be able to jump to the courtyard." That was all he said as Aegor discarded the sheath of Dawn and drew his own short sword.
"I do not know if I will survive this Aegor. If I should not then know I have always cared for you." He did not turn to face the boy but Aegor knew the words were true. The bastard punched his shield into the glass and it shattered.
"Then die well Arthur. As befits the Sword in the Morning." Arthur laughed at that, then Aegor jumped.
It was a short drop onto the stables thatch roof. Then sliding down the slanted thatch he fell again. This drop of larger but still nothing dangerous. As he stood in the courtyard he surveyed the chaos. And chaos is the only word to describe it. Aegor did not count the mercenaries but he knew how many his own household numbered. They were fifty four, a mix of Darry, Stark, Targaryen, and Dayne men at arms.
There was some semblance of a battle line but it had not yet formed the shield wall. Aegor realised the men were waiting for the order but Ser Willem was bedridden, Ser Arthur would not leave his Kings side. Someone would have to lead. Aegor knew then what he had to do, so he did it.
"Shield wall!"
Aegor called for the shield wall and so it was around him that the wall formed. Behind him was a Dayne man, to his left was a Darry and to his right was a man with a Stark and Targaryen quartered shield. Aegors nerves ran wild, but it was more than just nerves, he was terrified, he had no armour, bar an oversized helmet while the rest of his men and his opponents wore good mail and strong leather.
Aegor expected to die but he remembered his lessons that Ser Arthur hammered into his head with his remaining hand. He clenched the hilt of his sword so hard that it hurt the cuts left on his hand by the faceless man. The mercenaries built up the courage to charge the wall of wood and steel. His throat was dry, his stomach churned and felt sour with fear. Mixed with that fear was excitement. This is what his life had lead to, all his life spent with a blunted sword in his hand all leading up to this moment, the shield wall.
Aegor could see a man behind tue enemy ranks, he had blue flowing hair, a blue driven beard and a golden moustache. The man was on horseback and was rapidly loosing his patience. The man drew his golden scimitar and gave a great scream and the mercenaries finally charged. It was a small shield wall, not a great battle. It was not a clash of great armies only mercenaries against the household troops of a king without a kingdom but it was Aegors first battle and he would always remember it the same way you remember your first kiss, your first kill.
As they came at him Aegor rattled his shield against his neighbours to ensure it was secure and brought his short blade low meaning to bring it up under the shield rim. The mercenaries were howling like dogs with the intent of scaring the men but Aegor was too focused on his lessons to think about the howls.
'Beware the blade beneath the shield' he remembered Ser Arthur saying. 'Fast as a shadow cat' he remembered Syrio's teaching, or Jaqen H'ghar, or what ever his true name is. 'Shout in the face of fear do not crumble before it.' Ser Arthur had told him. 'Fear cuts deeper than swords' he remembered that lesson the most but no matter how many times he repeated it in his head it did not lessen the fear in his soul.
"Push!" Aegor shouted as they finally came and the front lines pushed their shields forward into the enemy charge and there was a thud on his shield like a smiths hammer hitting an anvil. It was the thunder of shield hitting shield as Aegor felt his arm pushed back against his chest. Shouts of rage. A spear between his ankles. His short sword lunged forward struck wood. A scream to his left, an axe flailing overhead. He ducked, lunged again and again hit shield. Pushing back with his own shield, the painted Darry sigil smashed against the broken sword on the enemies shield.
Aegor twisted his short sword free of the wood, stamped on the spear between his ankles, stabbed the sword over the shield rim and into a bearded face. The man twisted away as the blade scraped on skull bone and blood filled his face from his torn cheek. Aegor took a half pace forward and a sword glanced off his oversized helmet, knocking it over his eyes then leaving a shallow cut on his shoulder.
The Dayne behind him pulled him back hard because Aegor had broken the line and the first wall to break would be the wall to die. Aegor knew the man on his right was hard pressed but he could spare no to time to help because the man with the torn cheek was thrashing at his shield with a short axe, trying to splinter it.
Aegor lowered his shield suddenly, spoiling his stroke and swung his short sword at his face a second time and it drew blood again. Aegor hammered forward with his own shield and the man staggered back but was pushed forward by the men in the ranks behind him and this time the short sword took his throat and he was bubbling blood from a slit gullet.
He fell to his knees and the man behind him shoved a spear forward that pierced Aegors shield but it was stuck there. They mercenaries were heaving but the dying man obstructed their path and the spearman tripped on his fallen comrade. The man to Aegors right chopped his shield edge down onto the man's head and Aegor kicked him in the face then stabbed the short sword down.
A mercenary pulled the spear from Aegor's shield and stabbed with it but was cut down by the man on his left. By then the space in front of him had been filled and Aeogor and his men took half a step back. Aegor glimpsed an axe overhead and ducked, raising his shield up and stabbing his short sword out and into the man's stomach. The blade went smooth and savage just as Ser Arthur had taught, just as Syrio had taught.
It was a wicked blow and the man screamed as he went down with the short sword stuck in his body. Blood poured down its hilt staining Aegors hands red and an axe fell at his side as he straightened. Aegor drew the longsword from his back and swung her at the man attacking a Dayne man at his left. It was a well aimed stroke crunching through the iron helmet and biting deep into the skull.
He pulled back, letting the blades edge do the work. The man who had the short sword in his stomach was now under his feet and so Aegor stomped on his face. Now Aegor was shouting, shouting in Valyrian, shouting in common, shouting in the old tongue. Screaming insults, howling like a beast. Suddenly it came easy to him.
He stepped over his victim to finish the other, that meant Aegor had broken the shield wall but it did not matter to him in that moment as a man with the Dayne star on his shield filled the space. He was in the mercenaries ranks now with countless dead mercenaries beside him and more turning to him. A mercenary swung his sword at Aegor in a wide arc which he met with his shield.
As the mercenary tried to cover his body with his own shield Aegor lunged forward with his Longsword stabbing it deep into his throat. He ripped it out, swung it around his body and it clattered against a shield behind him. Aegor spun to face that shield full of battle madness and seeking blood. Aegor charged the man, toppling him and he pleaded for mercy but he received none.
The joy he felt in that moment was the greatest thing he had felt in his entire life. This was the spear din, the battle song and the blade dance. This was the battle joy that the singers and the bards tell about in their ballads. This was the warriors joy. In that moment Aegor could only think how he had not lived until he had felt that joy.
It was not a proper battle, just household guards against mercenaries but it was Aegors first battle, the first time it was him with men at his back. His first and the gods had moved through him that day, they gave his sword arm speed and his shield arm strength. When the battle had finished Aegor had danced the steel dance of blades and blood. In that moment, as he soaked in the blood of his enemies he knew that he was good. He knew that he was more than good. He could have conquered the world in that moment with nothing but his sword and the only regret would be that Willem Darry, the man who had raised him, would not be able to see him in all his blood spattered glory.
The battle ended suddenly, Aegor had led his men savagely in the shield wall and they had wrought death but there were still many more to kill when the blue haired man ordered the retreat from his horse. Men clapped Aegor on the back as he passed them, called his name in celebration. But Aegor was worried. Why had they fled? Where was Ser Arthur? Was Dany alright? So he discarded his battered, splintered shield and made his way into the manse.
The battle had gone differently from Ser Arthur's perspective. Aegor leapt out the window and Ser Arthur was still laughing at his comment when the door finally burst open and seven men poured in led by the Titans Bastard. Ser Arthur did not move as the fanned out as best they could in the narrow corridor. Mero went before the other six.
"I give you one chance to surrender, Knight of one hand." The mercenary captain called condescendingly. But he was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword in the Morning. He was of the Kingsguard and the Kingsguard do not flee.
"And I give you all one chance, turn the way you came or discover why the people of Westeros speak my name as they do the Dragon Knight and Ser Duncan the Tall." But they were seven and he was a one armed man, they did not fear him. They should have.
Ser Arthur placed the tip of Dawn at one wall of the hallway, then sliding the sword point across the stone he left a shallow line from end to end. His opponents approached slowly. Ser Arthur stepped a heavy boot over the line, as long as he lives, no enemy of his grace Viserys Targaryen would cross that line.
Arthur evaluated his immediate threats. The hallway was wide enough for three to stand beside each other comfortably and still fight. Mero nodded three men forward with his fancy silver helm. The three went forward and Arthur evaluated them. The one to his right held a spear in two hands, the man to his left held a longsword and a shield. There was another man standing close to the one on the left, he had a crossbow but it had yet to be loaded.
Arthur guessed it would take nearly three minutes to load the heavy crossbow, once it was loaded though it would he deadly. Without a shield the crossbow bolt would pierce his armour easily. So he must be quick with dispatching the crossbow man. Three men, three minutes. Arthur saw the man on the left shift his shield, there was a small hand axe strapped to his waist. Arthur smiled behind his steel helm, this was living. He held Dawn before ready for either of the two men to make their move.
"We warned you." Mero nodded for his chosen three to attack and the crossbow man began loading his heavy weapon.
The spear lunged from his right but the flat of Dawn checked it and knocked it off course. Then there was a boot in the spearman's chest and he was stumbling backwards clattering into the wall. Turning to the man on his left Arthur feinted a high lunge then stabbed low but the man brought his shield down in time and Dawn's pale blade struck wood. From the corner of his eye Ser Arthur saw the spearman clumsily approaching.
With the skill of a water dancer Dawns tip was brought around in a wide arc and into the small space between the helm and the chain links. The sword opened his throat making it a fountain of blood. The spear fell and the man hands came up to his throat as he collapsed to a chocking death. Then he was pivoting allowing a stab from the man on his left to pass harmlessly. The spin sent his half cloak up in a swirl of white. As the heavy fabric settled Dawn was being pushed up under the shield rim and into the mans stomach.
He continued the lunge, pushing the dying man back until Dawns sharp point hit the stone of the wall, then with a last stab he pinned the man standing up, Dawn in his chest. Arthur chanced a quick glance, the crossbowman had moved fast and had nearly loaded his weapon, of the other four only one man seemed to be readying himself to charge.
Ser Arthurs hand left Dawns hilt, instead it grabbed at the man's belt for his hand axe, with a pull the knight freed it form the belt then with another glance he saw the crossbow aiming, not a second too late Arthur threw the axe and with a spinning brutality it cut through the nasal guard of the crossbowmans helmet and killed him. There was a man right behind him who stepped over his friends corpse.
This new man had a great sword much like Arthur, but he belt it was both hands and had it levelled at shoulder height. There were tears in his eyes as he charged the Sword in the Morning. Ser Arthur felt to pity for those that came to harm his king. Arthur brought Dawn up and allowed the man's blade to clash against it, then using the flat of Dawn he side stepped and the charging blade slid down Dawn.
Then Arthur brought the hilt up into the back of the man's head. He fell with the crunch of metal and the thunder of steel. It took a single stab through the back of his head to end the man. Ser Arthur spun and levelled his sword at the three remaining men. The watched him wearily now. They had underestimated him before, that was not a mistake they would make again.
Mero shouldered through his men. He wore studded leather and ring-mail. There was a heavy wooden kite shield strapped to his forearm that's as studded in metal bolts and ringed in iron. A sword hung from his belt but Arthur found himself looking at his helmet. It was an expensive piece of steel, black and silver studded with rubies. Ser Arthur expected him to draw his sword but he did not.
Dawn was a greatsword and Arthur's arm felt the weight of holding it level at the three. Deciding the were not about to charge him immediately Ser Arthur instead laid the blade across his body and on his white cloaked shoulder. His pristine white half cloak now had a bright red steak across it but Arthur cared not as Mero grasped his weapon. He heard the sound of chains before he saw the weapon. It was a spiked flail hung on a long chain.
The weapon was simple made, not wrought in silver or gold, not shaped like a skull or a dragon head. It was a tool made form cruel dark steel. Against a shielded opponent the flail would struggle, especially someone as skilled as Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword in the Morning. But against a one handed swordsman wielding a greatsword, it was perfect.
Mero spun is slowly, almost casually. His two remaining companions each took a step to the side. One of them had a sword and shield, the other a heavy two handed axe. The axe man slowly began walking until he half stood behind Arthur. Dawn fell from his shoulder, but the knight allowed the man to move behind him. The flail spun faster now. The man to Mero's right raised his shield.
'Tap'
'Tap'
'Tap'
Dawns red tip connected with the stone floor thrice. Movement! Arthur ducked as the axeman came from his left. A half step back and Ser Arthur was behind the rapidly turning man. Dawn swung and struck true in a savage stroke, taking one leg at the joint where the armour was light then followed quickly by another hasty slash that severed the chain links of his side mail. The man was now slowly bleeding out.
Dawn was raised quickly nearly touching the wooden shield. Using the wet blade tip to ward off the last two. It only worked as a deterrent for a moment. With both shields raised they charged him. Twice Dawn cut, once catching the iron lip of a shield and the second leaving a gash in wood. Mero punched his own studded shield into Arthur's guard, it crunched into his helmet dazing the knight.
I'm his daze Arthur had lost sight of the second man, but he had more pressing matters as the flail was descending. A step back that was more a stumble avoided the first. Then twice more avoided the second. Arthur stepped into the third and cut at Mero with a backhanded slash that met shield. Suddenly there was a burning pain as the second man stabbed Arthur's back. Luckily the plate took the brunt of the attack but still it pierced flesh.
Without thought Arthur threw his elbow behind him but it crashed into wood and sent a shattering pain shooting up his remaining arm. Not being deterred Ser Arthur immediately threw us hand back again, this time using the pommel of Dawn. It smashed into the man's jaw with a crunch. Spinning Arthur saw the man staggering. The Sword in the Morning charged, his hood shoulder first.
Already off balance it did not take much effort for the man to fly into the stone wall behind him. Then quick as lightning Dawn flashed, opening the man's throat into a river of red that flowed down his brown beard. Bleeding and tired, Arthur turned again to face Mero. The man was furious, his anger and malice shining from dead, pale green eyes.
"I'll kill you bastard!" Mero snarled.
Ser Arthur just raised Dawn. With a shrug his blood stained white cloak fell to sit over his missing arm. With slow deliberate movements Ser Arthur raised Dawn, set it against his white cloak and pulled, whiling the blood on the garment. Then spinning it he did the same with the other side. All throughout Mero watched uneasily, glancing around the room until his vision settled on the ceiling. His eyes returned to Arthur when he began to speak.
"I, Ser Arthur Dayne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, In the name of his Grace Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do here by sentence you to die." His voice was grave but brokered no argument.
At once they both attacked. Dawn soaring overhead, the flail swinging to meet it. Arthur was so confident. He had not even looked at the roof before him. Between Mero and Arthur hung the iron branches all clasping candles. Dawn struck it, cutting several of the iron arms, then the flail was there, tangling and mixing with the greatsword. Mero had let go and he charged forth.
Arthur tried to pull Dawn away but it was stuck, tangled in chains and steel. Then it no longer mattered as Arthur's hand fell limply away from Dawns hilt. There was a pain in his chest. Mero was so close, his pale eyes glowing with malice. Battle raged outside but everything seemed quiet. The mercenary's blackened teeth smiled a grim smile. Then Arthur fell. And dirk fell with him, jutting from his chest where it had punctured a lung.
That was the scene Aegor saw as he burst through the door. He saw six dead men, the hallway a river of blood. Dawn was tangled on the ground wrapped up in the flails chain. And at the end of the hallway, body being clutched by his sobbing sister, was Ser Arthur Dayne. Ser Willems longsword clattered to the ground as he dropped it. And sprinting down the hall in a panic he almost fell over a corpse.
Ashara had pulled his helmet off and thrown it to the side. She took his face in her hands, they were bloody hands. Aegor thought he had died and so he pulled Ashara from his body and held her tight, in a warm embrace as tears welled in his eyes. But he was not yet dead. His eyes cracked open and a groan came from his lips.
"Aegor, Dawn." It was a short command but Aegor understood its meaning.
The bastard retrieved the greatsword and wrapped his hands around it. Arthur whispers to his sister and she nodded sadly, helping him to lift the sword. In truth Arthur did little but grasp weakly at the hilt.
"Kneel." The shirt statement was followed by a fit of coughs but Aegor kneeled none the less. Ashara guided Arthur's arm and set the blade upon his shoulders.
"Aegor Snow Bastard of House Targaryen and Stark." He began in a solemn and hoarse voice.
"In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave." The blade dipped to his other shoulder
"In the name of the Father I charge you to be just." Back to his left shoulder.
"In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and the innocent." Back right.
"In the name of the Smith I charge you to be humble." He coughed again and Ashara struggled to lift his metal clad arm back over his shoulder.
"In the name of the Crone I charge you to be wise." His eyes glazed and blood poured form his mouth.
Arthur gestured for Aegor to take Dawn and he did. Aegor wanted to beam with pride but the sadness in his heart gripped him tightly. Arthur have a pained and bloody smile and his sister squeezed his hand tight. Aegor held the greatsword uncomfortably, it felt as though he was intruding by holding it. Arthur gave a choked laugh that devolved into coughs and sputtering blood.
"The youngest knight to ever live." He smiled up at him, though it was not entirely true, Daemon Blackfyre had also been knighted at age twelve. Aegor found it strange how both of them were two Targaryen bastards.
"They took the King, and Dany." Aegor knew that already, he would kill all of Bravoos to ensure Dany was safe, but first he would say goodbye.
"You will save them won't you." It was barely a whisper.
"Of course Arthur." Silent tears fell down Asharas cheeks.
"Aegor. In the name of the Stranger I charge you to do what ever is necessary, protect them." With that Arthur looked up, exposing us neck.
"And make it quick." He tried so hard to sound confident but his voice cracked at the end.
"Clean stroke." And the stroke was clean, quick and painless.
Ashara wept, Aegor wished he could comfort her but he could not, Arthur had given him a mission. He must protect them, although there was not a force in Essos that could stop Aegor from hunting Mero and saving Dany. When it came to Viserys Aegor cared little for the spoiled Beggar King. But he had promised Arthur, and so he would save him.
Before he had even lady the manse Aegor was faced with another tragedy, he entered the room to find Ser Willem dead, he had died from his vicious illness while the battle raged outside the door. Aegor stayed in that room only long enough to say his goodbyes, then he turned. He embraced Ashara in the hall, promising to bring Dany home and to avenge her brother. She wept for Arthur, begged him not to go, then told him to be safe once she recognised he would not be swayed. Then she smiled sadly.
"Arthur had that same determined look when he was about to charge headlong into battle." She said fondly
"He taught me well." Aegor smiled back, wiping the tears from her face.
With that he left. The men were celebrating in the courtyard still when Aegor appeared, all grim and serious. He called to them, told them Arthur had been slain, their King and Princess taken and that he meant to ride to save them. Not a single man there did not cheer for 'Ser' Snow. The bastard Knight. Aegor pulled the strap of his helmet tight and approached the stables.
Three horses were tied there, the largest was Ser Willem's, a great red stallion. Aegor handed Dawn to some nearby man and mounted, taking the blade back and spurring his horse forward through the assembled men. Two men saddled and mounted as Aegor reached the gate, then he turned.
"These mercenaries have stolen the King! The Princess! They have killed Ser Arthur, though it took them half an army to bring low the Sword in the Morning!" They all cheered Ser Arthur's name.
"I mean to follow them, to fight them, to cut off their heads and to feed their guts to the crows! We are wolves! And we smell blood!" Aegor raised Dawn, its pale blade faintly red with blood, and the crowd of nearly thirty men howled like wolves.
Aegor clutched the pommel of his saddle hard as they beat down the track and into the canal. Across the water was a manse filled with warriors and sunlight glinted off spear tips and steel helmets. Aegors red stallion lead the charge, two Dayne knights mounted beside him, eager to avenge Ser Arthur.
Two dozen men ran behind them with spears and swords and axes as they rounded the corner and saw the mercenaries approaching the canal banks to face them. Three men, two stark and one in Darry colours, trudged up the side of the bank and plucked bows from their backs and pulled arrows from bursting quivers.
Men came from the manse by the canal, two were on horseback and they numbered thirty at first glance. They waded into the thigh high water and shouted insults at Aegor and his men as they charged. Aegor raised Dawn as he led them into the water, it was a beautiful blade, Arthur had let him hold it countless times but there was something different about it now that he was not just holding the blade but was about to kill with it.
As his red stallion crashed through the water all the melancholy left Aegor, battle was not a place for sadness but for rage and fury and joy. So he did not cry, there were no tears on his face as he raised Dawn and steadied his breathing. He did not cry as he brought her low in a sweeping strike, he laughed. It was the battle madness, the joy of bringing death with every strike of his blade.
The first man had came at him with an axe but did not complete his swing before Dawn was on him, she was heavy and the weight worked for Aegor as it's razor sharp edge bit through steel helm and bone skull. Aegor did not complete the swing but drove his horse forward with the pressure of his knees and the warhorse understood, blaring forward into the waters.
The man was dragged through the waters limply until Aegor finished the swing and the sword slid from his cracked skull and blood and brains darkened the reddening waters. A glance showed Aegor the silver hair of the two he was rescuing but down river in the canal was a large pleasure barge that was crowned with a black jewel. Staring from the balcony of the barge was a beauty of dark skin, dark hair and she was draped in a silk dress of vibrant colours. She was captivating, and he stared at her for a moment too long and a hand grabbed at his foot.
He pulled it from the stirrup and brought his boot down into the man's face with a crunch. The blade he had been bringing up to stab into Aegors stomach fell to the side as the man stumbled backwards, his free hand went to his face, cradling a broken nose. Chaos was around them, men were dying in the waters, a horse fell with a shout and an arrow flew overhead.
Aegor whirled his horse around to face the man only to see an axe take his head by a man in stark colours. The next man came with caution, his shield raised high and his longsword held close to its metal rim. Bringing his horse beside the man, Aegor grasped Dawn in both hands and swiped it at the shield then swiped again. The incredible blade left deep gashes and as Aegor raised it for a third time the man swung back in a slow backwards swipe.
Aegor leant back in the saddle and watched as the man instinctively lowered his shield to swing the sword and by doing so left his shoulder open. With a shout Aegor drove the blade deep through flesh and bone as the man clawed at the blade, shredding his hands as he slid form the blood red blade to die in the waters.
Aegor did not see the fourth man anymore than he saw the second as the man charged with a spear. A well placed stab could have ended Aegor or his horse but the man tripped over a corpse in the bloody waters and the spear tip did not find the horses vital organs nor did it find Aegor instead it scraped against the red stallion's collarbone. With a neigh of pain he raised into his hind legs and it was all Aegor could do to hold onto the pommel of his saddle as the front hooves of the red beast crashed down on the man before them, cracking his skull with a deafening crunch.
Men were dying, his men and the mercenaries but Aegor laughed. His grief for Ser Arthur and Ser Willem had left his mind for a fleeting moment and it was blissful. He was blood soaked and battle high, this was what he was made for. He looked at a giant of a man beside Daenerys and Viserys and with a crazed look in his eyes Aegor howled. Howled like the Direwolf of his mothers house, howled like a madman, howled death at them, death and ruin.
The two horsemen came at him then, the first came from his left and he came recklessly heaving his shield high and swinging wildly. Aegor clutched Dawn with two hands and brought it around in a wide arcing feint. The horseman raised his shield to meet the strike but instead Aegor sent the sword point lower, cutting through the horses mouth and deep into its neck. The steed went down into the water in a flailing crash of limbs and screams.
Aegor turned just in time to see the sun reflecting off a sword point before it sheared through his fine black and grey clothing. The links of Aegors golden chain, scattered into the canal as blood seeped into his clothing. Aegor was stunned and in pain so he could not bring Dawn up in time to block the next strike. The sword clanged against Ser Willems helmet, denting it and half knocking the oversized helm of his head.
Worry should have gripped his heart at that moment, it's was a sane man would have felt but at that moment Aegor was far from sane. He laughed and brought Dawn down on the man's shield, using all the blades weight to his advantage. The edge bit through the iron rim of the shield and deep into the wood. Pushing with all his strength Aegor pushed the shield back against the man.
The horseman brought his own sword down on Aegors now unprotected back but Aegors hand lashed out, viper quick and snatched the man's wrist then pushed again, this time the man fell from the saddle of his horse. Dawn slid loose from the wooden shield but before Aegor could straighten, his own foot had come loose form it's stirrup.
He was falling, tumbling to the water, covered in blood and grime and sweat form the battle at the courtyard and here in the canal. Dawn left his grasps as he was suddenly underwater. Horse hooves clattered around his head but all missed thankfully. His head shot up from the water and he struggled to his knees, spluttering water and gasping for air.
The world was dizzy and the helmet seemed even more dented but Aegor ripped the battered steel off his head and felt the back of his head. It was wet and sticky with blood that had begun matting the back of his head. It was painful to touch but did not seem like a deep wound and so Aegor pushed the worry from his mind and groped the water for the handle of Dawn.
Feeling the star of Dawns pommel Aegor got a secure hold of the hilt but before he could rise from the red waters he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Spinning Aegor wildly cut with a twisting slash at whoever was behind him. Dawns edge sheared through leather and mail and flesh. The man wailed as his guts spilled from his slit stomach like wriggling eels, he dropped his dirk and his hand went to his intestines as if he could stuff them back inside and sow himself back up, instead he fell face first into the canal as an arrow shattered through his head.
Adrenaline and battle madness drove away the pain from his shoulder as he struggled to his knees. He found the horseman on his hands and knees, heaving water from his lungs. Seeing the pathetic sight, Aegor waded through the thigh high water and kick him in the stomach so he lay on his back with his neck barely out of the water then with a savage backwards slash Aegor opened the man's throat so his blood spurted into the canal to dilute in the murky waters.
Then the madness came in truth. A man came at him with an axe and a man fell. A swipe, a dodge, a slash and a spray of blood as Ser Aegor Snow, bastard in exile, brought death to the mercenaries like a man possessed. He was an avatar of the gods that day, the stranger itself worked through him as he wrought death with a milk white blade.
"Form ranks!" He bellowed after a semblance of sense returned to him. Ten men formed up behind Aegor, and the three archers departed from the banks, drawing their short swords to stand in the ranks behind Aegor.
Their leader came forth from behind his lines, leaving the hill with the manse. Dany and Viserys stayed tied by the tree their silver gold hair damp from being rushed through the stream. He had a bald head and a long, wild red beard that was tied with iron chains. Grey green pools glowed with malice from his sunken eyes in his skull face. Those were dead eyes, the eyes of a monster not a man.
Two men walked beside him. a strong looking man with deep blue hair, a golden moustache and intelligent eyes. From his grinning face glinted a golden tooth and a golden handled scimitar hung by his waist. He looked dangerous, but not quite so dangerous as the big man he japed with, the leader did not jape back but stared at Aegor, still standing in the knee deep canal, with his dreadful eyes.
The final man was a small, more a boy than a man. The blue haired man stopped before the canal while the other two shouldered through the mercenaries and waded ankle deep into the water. The small man strapped a studded kite shield to the leaders forearm. The big man wore studded leather sown with steel disks over the vital areas in his armour.
Aegor held Dawn in one hand and stared impatiently at the mercenary leader, his free hand opened and closed in an agitated state. The mercenary drew his bastard sword and Aegor tensed and raised Dawn for half a heartbeat but the man just plunged the blade into the murky waters, stabbing it into the mud. He noticed Aegor tense and grinned at him with a black tooth grin.
The man unslung his sword belt, throwing it to the rushes below. Using his free hand he hung a chainmail hood over his bald head then held out his hand to the small man who produced a helm. It was an impressive helm, black steel with a face piece that ended just above his upper lip and was shaped shaped like a screaming face wrought in silver. Rubies had been set in the face piece to make it seem as the the man was crying red blood, but the mercenary did not cry, he grinned his black smile and stared with dead eyes.
Without a word he wrenched his sword from the blood red water. Bodies littered the canal, men in Stark colours, in Dayne and Darry colours, men proudly showing the three headed dragon of his fathers house. But for every two of Aegors men floating dead in the water there were three mercenaries. Aegor grasped Dawn in both hands as the man waded into the water.
"I am Mero, the Titans Bastard, Captain of the Second Sons." He greeted smiling in a way that more resembled a grimace.
"I am Ser Aegor, a prince's bastard. You have taken my family, you have killed the man who taught me to fight and now I will use his blade to take your head." Aegor growled in return.
Aegor was growling and baring his teeth at the captain like a beast, promising death and vengeance but the truth was, exhaustion had returning to Aegor, the battle haze leaving and ushering in the ache of his bones and the dulled pain left by his escape from the faceless men months ago came back to him in full force. Mero grunted, Aegors head throbbed, a crow squawked above and a cat stretched on a wall nearby. The crow made him think of his dreams and the visions the three eyed crow send him, the cat made him think of Syrio and the other faceless men. 'Quick as a cat.' So he struck and he struck quick.
Without another word being spoken Aegor hacked down at Mero and the studded shield shot up to meet it. Pulling it free of the wood Aegor swiped again, trying to knock the shield out of the way. Instead it bit through the iron lip of the shield and into the wood. The razor edge of Dawn slid out of the shield as Aegor quickly stepped backwards avoiding a backwards slash from Mero's bastard sword.
Mero pressed the attack with a lunge and Aegor was on the back foot. A dodge, a parry, a duck, a slash, a hack, a sidestep. The dance of blades continued. The Titans Bastards studded shield was now half destroyed, with deep gashes in the wood from the ever-sharp edge of Dawn. Then Mero came at him again but instead of sidestepping Aegor planted his feet, ducked into the swipe and lunged forward, stabbing the point of Dawn into shield. The pale blade burst through the raised wood, shearing through the the mail hood and cutting along the mercenary captain's jaw bone.
He twisted away as Aegor pulled Dawn from the shield and held it before him, using the point to keep distance between them both. His chest heaved as Aegor struggled to fill his lungs. There was a searing pain in his shoulder and the longer he remained in his feet the worse his head throbbed. He needed to end this soon.
Aegor planted his feet and waited for Mero, he did not wait long. The Titans Bastard marched forward with purpose and drive, trudging through the water. He raised his studded shield gouged with deep blade wounds, he was ready for a sword stroke but it never came. Aegor kicked the kite shield and Mero staggered.
A sidestep and Aegor was on his right, then came an onslaught of blows. Each slash was met by Mero's bastard sword but Dawn was not normal steel. It was pale as milkglass, forged from a fallen star, it was razor sharp, sharper even than Valyrian steel and so as Aegor brought his blade down on Mero's it began to chip and crack. Again and again Dawn crashed against the bastard sword until eventually it shattered.
Aegor readied Dawn one last time, preparing the final stroke. It never came as Mero surged forward slamming the shield into Aegors chest and knocking him to the ground. He threw down his broken sword and drew a dirk that had been strapped across his chest. Aegor was under the water for but a moment before he sat up, his hand still clutched around Dawns hilt.
Aegor felt the water plaster his raven hair to his head and a silver streak of hair hung before his scared eye that looked purple in the lowering sun. Aegor moved to get to his feet but Mero was on him then, with a crash Aegor fell backwards, his sword arm pinned beneath Mero's shield and the dirk was stabbed forward at his face.
Aegor barely held his head above the water, but the small thrashing waves crashed over his face. He stared into the mercenary's sunken eyes, the dead green orbs shining behind the face plates, the ruby tears weeping on the screaming silver face. Aegor felt like screaming at that moment as his free hand shot up to grasp Mero's wrist. Aegor pushed with all his strength but despite everything, despite his years of training, despite the mixtures given to him in the house of black and white, despite his vision from the three eyed crow, despite everything Mero was still stronger.
Blood coated the Mercenary's beard, flowing from the cut in his cheek. Aegor could only watch as the red liquid flowed down his wild beard. He could only watch and push, push with all his strength against the blade hiking closer to his neck. He felt cold steel against his throat and he thought of Dany, of Ser Arthur, Ser Willem he thought of his uncle Eddard the man who spared Arthur and sent him here to be safe. He thought of Ashara who likely still sat, clutching her brothers dead corpse. He thought of his foolish mother with her childlike innocence, he thought of his selfish father who had thrown the world into war for 'love' as Ser Arthur called it. He thought of Elia and Aegon and Rhaenys, of the family he will ever know.
Then he thought of the woman. The dark skinned beauty he had seen at the beginning of the battle. That was strange, why would she of all people enter his mind at the end. She was no one to him, a beautiful woman who wished to watch foolish men play with swords. Yet in his last moment Aegor found himself thinking about her, wondering if she still watched, perhaps the blood was too much for her, perhaps she had seen it all before and it was nothing special. He wondered if she was impressed, he was only twelve, newly knighted and holding his own against a renowned mercenary captain. He wondered what she would think when he died, he didn't like that thought.
Years from now Aegor would still ponder why it was the thought of that woman that gave him the strength that he needed in that moment. Was it purely the need of foolish young boys to impress pretty women, he does not know. But it does not matter. For whatever reason, it was she that gave him the strength to push the dirk off his throat and send it flying into the water.
Filled with a new strength he jumped up, throwing Mero off him and using Dawn as a cane to rise to his feet. All around there was shouting but Aegor heard none. His men were cheering for the bastard they followed to death in this canal, while the mercenaries were cursing him. To Aegor it did not matter.
He marched forward, stomping towards Mero's kneeling form. The mercenary groped in the bloody water for a weapon and swung up with a spiked mace once Aegor was within distance, but Aegor batted the attack aside with a swift sword stroke, then sent it from his hand with a sharp kick. Another kick was sent to the man's face, the boot crunching in his mouth as his teeth shattered and he fell backwards.
Placing a muddy wet boot on the man's armoured chest Aegor pushed down, forcing his head under the red wetness. His hands came up to claw at the leg, scratching at his leather boots but Aegor did not move. He stabbed down with Dawn, stabbing and hacking his shoulders until the clawing ended then he pushed his boot down even harder. Eventually the bubbling stopped, then the thrashing of his legs. Then still. A quite.
People screamed but Aegor heard none of it. He pulled off the black steel and silver helmet and threw it to the banks were his men cheered for the Bastard in Exile. Looking scornfully at Mero's corpse, he sawed at the neck with Dawn until the thick neck severed. Lifting the head by his red, blood soaked beard Aegor presented his blackened, screaming, bloody mouth to the mercenaries. Over half had fled when their captain had died, the blue haired man among them. Of those that remained none seemed eager to fight the slayer of Mero, the Titans Bastard.
"Release my family, and you can go on your way!" Aegor bellowed, throwing Mero's head at their feet. It took less than a minute for Dany to be in his arms.
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