Chương 26: Chapter 26: The Green and the Black
Asha
Asha Greyjoy smiled to herself, her campaign to take Deepwood Motte was going quite well. Asha, with 30 ships and 1,000 men had landed in the bay of ice and were now marching on the northern stronghold. just as her lord father predicted, the north was lightly guarded. She and her reavers only met a few skirmishing parties. They were no match for the hardened ironborn. After dealing with the skirmishers on the beach, the ironborn made their way through the wolfswood. With no one to stop them, it was a straight shot to Deepwood Motte. Ashe could hardly wait to take the castle seeing as she always wanted one for herself. From Deepwood Motte Asha would carve out a large kingdom for herself here.
Finally there it was looming over the distance was the ancient fortress of House Glover. Asha and her men made camp on the opposite hill which gave them a good view of the castle. They spent the afternoon preparing grappling hooks and a ram made from a tree trunk.
The next morning the ironborn prepared themselves for battle. As the armed themselves and stood before their leader. Asha stepped up on a large rock, drew her ax and dirk and addressed her men.
"MY FELLOW REAVERS," She roared. "For nine long years, we have been under the yoke of the greenlander king Robert Baratheon. Now the Kraken shall rise again. Robert is dead and his seven kingdoms scattered, The north is helpless and ripe for plucking. What the Kraken grasps it never let's go." She pointed her ax to their intended target. "There lies Deepwood Motte, NOW IT'S OURS FOR THE TAKING."
The ironborn roared with approval and banged their weapons on their shields. Beside her were her lieutenants Qarl the Maid, and Tristifer Botley.
Qarl has a clean shaven face with pink cheeks. Because of his appearance, the ironborn had given him the moniker of 'The maid.' Yet despite his boyish appearance, Qarl is one of the Iron Island's fiercest warriors. Tristifer is a comely young man with unruly hair and big eyes, Unlike Qarl, he is not a fighter, nevertheless, he is as fearless as any ironborn. Both men vying for Asha's affection but she loves to string them both along.
"Are you ready?' She askes them. Qarl gives her a wide grin and Tristifer nods his eyes determined.
The ironborn crept slowly through the woods edging closer and closer to Deepwood Motte. They stopped at the treeline which was within seeing the distance of the castle. A clearing in the woods. marked the place where the castle had been raised. From the trees, Asha saw the few sentries on the towers guarding the gate. She gave the signal and the ironborn charged.
The guards on the towers fired arrows at them downing a few reavers but they would be soon overtaken. But once they reached the shadow of the palisade. dozens of archers appeared from behind the logs and started firing at the attackers. The archers were standing on wall walks giving them the high ground and a good vantage point. Waves of ironborn fell to the arrows of the defenders. Still, they pressed on.
Asha was taken back by the number of men guarding the castle and called for the ram to be brought up. the heavy tree trunk was hauled to the gateway and they began pounding on the castle's frail wooden gate. Others were taking grappling hooks and were scaling the palisade.
It didn't take long for the ram to make short work of the gate. With one final heave, the ram smashed the gate open and the ironborn swarmed in. Asha led the charge into the bailey and got the shock of her life. Instead of meeting only a few guards and helpless small folk, hundreds of Glover soldiers charged at them swords drawn and roaring. A third of her men were already inside the castle. Asha raised her axe and led a charge of her own, with Qarl right beside her.
Asha raised her axe and decapitated a soldier who came charging at her. Another came from behind but Asha spun around and bashed him in the head with her shield. The man was stunned long enough for Asha to slash his face with her axe. To her right, Qarl was cutting down men left and right. Together they cut down many glover men. Before her, Asha could see the great Motte itself. For a brief shining moment, victory was within their grasp.
Suddenly a roar came from outside the bailey and the noise of battle was increased. As she killed another glover, Tristifer ran up to her, his face drenched in blood. But as far as she could tell, none of it was his own. "Asha," he cried out, "we're being attacked from the rear, thousands of northmen came out of the woods and are surrounding us."
'Impossible,' She thought in horror. 'How could there be so many northmen here. They're supposed to be with the wolf pup." A dreadful thought formed in her head but before she could dwell on it she heard Qarl let out a roar. She turned and saw him fighting a large man with greyish brown hair. He wore a scarlet breastplate with a silver fist in the middle and wielded a longsword and shield. He looked haggard but alert as he began pushing Qarl back against the palisade.
Asha rushed to help him but was stopped by an equally large, older man. He too wore the same armor as the other man but he was wielding a greatsword. Asha realized that it was Master Galbert Glover. The Lord of Deepwood Motte. That meant the man fighting Qarl was his brother Robett. The two combatants clash steel on steel, Asha was quicker by far but her opponent was far stronger and obviously more seasoned. He blocked Asha's numerous strikes and focused much force against her shield arm. Eventually, the force became too much and Master Galbert knocked the shield from her hand. Asha drew her dirk and continued the fight. As they clashed Asha struck up a conversation with the Master of the castle.
"Shouldn't you be with your wolf pup, Ser," She taunted.
Galbert replied with a smile. "I was, but my men and I were sent back home on the King's orders."
Asha's eyes widened. "King Roland told you to come back?"
Galbert nodded. "I must admit, I was angry that the boy ordered me home. I was doubtful that your people would attack. But now I see the wisdom in his orders."
'They knew we were coming,' Asha realized in horror. If they were ready for them so far up north. that must mean they are ready for-'
"What of Moat Cailin?" She asked already dreading the answer.
Galbert's grin broadened. "So he was right about that too. He had us fortify the Fever river and put a full garrison at the fort."
'Nuncle Victarion is sailing into a trap,' Asha thought bitterly. 'Our father's grand scheme is about to go up in the fire.' Now her mind drifted to a more horrifying thought.
'Theon'
Asha panicked, "Nuncle and I were given a substantial force. But father only gave Theon 8 ships and 300 men. If the Northmen are prepared for him, Theon will be destroyed. "NO," She cried out with newfound determination, she had to get out of this, there was no way she could capture the castle now.
As she thought this she felt a powerful kick knock her over. Asha hit the ground, the fall caused her to lose her weapons. saw Galbert towering over her sword raised. Asha closed her eyes and accepted her fate. But the blow never came. Ashe opened her eyes and saw Galbert swaying back and forth with a sword coming out his mouth. Curious, Asha looked behind him and saw Tristifer standing there clutching the handle of the sword. Asha stumbled back as the man hit the ground dead. She found her weapons and picked them up.
"We can't hold much longer," Tristifer gasped.
Asha nodded, she raised her axe and gave out a loud cry. "FALL BACK," she yelled. "FALL BACK TO THE SHIPS."
At this order, the Ironborn began to fight their way out of Deepwood Motte and flee into the wolfswood. Qarl broke off his fight with Robert Glover and rushed to join Asha the shattered gate. He didn't need to worry about his opponent, for Robert now turned his attention to avenging his brother. Tristifer turned and ran, He only got a few meters when he felt an iron grip seize him by the throat, he gagged and kicked but his struggles stopped as he felt something sharp go through his stomach. Tristifer gasped in pain. It was only for a moment but to Tristifer it seemed like forever. The blade the whent off to the side and he felt himself become much lighter. At long last, the darkness overtook him. Forever.
Arya
The ride to Harrenhal was the longest trip of her life, every day she would wake up wondering if her captors would finally slit her throat, every night she lay awake fearing that they might finally take her. Had it not been for their leader, it is likely that they would have done so already.
The Leader of the group was a young man. Lean with brown hair and a bushy mustache. He reminded Arya of a northerner somewhat. Despite his rough demeanor, he looked kind and treated Arya as well as can be expected. Needle was now strapped to his belt out of her reach. Every now and then he would try to strike up a conversation with her. Obviously trying to find out just who she was and how she came into possession of a sword and a fine horse.
Arya had her hands tied out in front of her. Which was for the best since Bane looked ready to kick something. She patted his head and that seemed to keep his ever-growing rage at bay. Bane had a thick rope tied around his neck. that rope was the root cause of his discontent. Seeing as he refused to allow anyone else to ride him the Lannisters decided to allow Arya to stay on him.
"What is your name?" He asked her one day.
Arya remained silent and kept her head down."
The man sighed, "You do not need to fear me."
"Bella," Arya replied quickly, deciding to use the name and story she had given herself to the farmer and his daughter.
"I'm Ser Raynald of House Westerling," he said in a formal manner.
Arya didn't respond as she continued to stroke Bane.
"That horse seems too big for you," He commented as he observed Bane.
"It was my brother's," Arya replied.
"And where is he?"
"Dead," Arya said trying to sound grim.
Ser Raynald bowed his head, "I'm sorry, where are your parents?"
To her credit, Arya bowed her head as a silent gesture of indicating that they had been killed. "Dead, slaughtered by men like you." She said coldly.
Raynald was taken back by that statement, "My men and I are merely a scouting force, I never razed any village and I certainly never killed any unarmed people."
"You serve Tywin Lannister." Arya retorted. "He has been ordering the burning of farms and villages everywhere."
Raynald bowed his head. "I am sorry for your loss but I am not like the Mountain's men."
"What if Tywin ordered you to do so?" Arya quipped.
The man looked at her in silence not knowing how to respond before turning his attention to something in the distance. Arya turned to what Raynald was looking at and gasped. Before them was the gigantic castle of Harrenhal.
All her life Arya had heard the tales of Harrenhals's size. Yet all those stories held nothing to the real thing. It seemed only a few miles away, but Raynald told her that the journey there would take three days. Arya was shocked that such a castle could be seen from such a distance. The towers were all Arya could see, Five massive towers reaching into the sky like the fingers of a giants hand."
Raynald's words proved to be true. It took three days to reach the gatehouse of the castle. Arya stared at the walls in awe. The tallest tower in Winterfell was shorter than the guard towers of Harrenhalls curtain wall. The gatehouse itself could fit Winterfell's great keep. As Arya got a closer look at the five great towers, she saw that they were bent and twisted. The result of often wondered what this ruined castle had looked like in its prime.
Raynald escorted Arya into the castle courtyard. There was a large group of prisoners penned up in a far corner. Next, to them, a large man was roughing up a boy. Arya could not help but look at this one particular boy. Something about him stood out. He was tall and very muscular, with black hair and sea blue eyes. Something about this boy seemed oddly familiar. They sat him down and a smaller man began to ask him questions.
"Is there gold in the village?' The small man asked.
"I'm not from the village," The boy snarled.
"Where is the brotherhood?" The man continued.
The boy spat on the ground in front of the man. "Piss off."
The small man nodded to his compatriot and he held him down as one placed a bucket with a rat inside on the boy's belly. Arya gasped in horror as she realized what the man was about to do. Bane was pawing the ground rapidly. Arya realized he was about to snap.
As the men were about to put a torch to the bucket, a thundering of hooves could be heard. Everyone turned to see. Tywin Lannister rides into the courtyard. In his golden armor and crimson cloak. Tywin knew how to make his presence known to all. His face held nothing but seriousness as he glared around. Without a word he dismounted and strode towards the commotion.
Raynald Westerling bowed as he passed. "Lord Tywin." Tywin gave him a brisk nod before continuing. "What is all this?" He demanded to a Lannister soldier.
"We not expecting you until tomorrow mi'lord," the soldier replied nervously.
Tywin hmphed, "evidently not." He eyed the penned up smallfolk. Why aren't these prisoners in their cells?" He asked somewhat annoyed.
"The cells are overflowing mi'lord." The soldier explained. "They won't be here long, don't need no permanent place. After we interrogate them we usually just-" the soldier gestured to the row of severed heads on the walls to make his point."
Tywin rolled his eyes in complete annoyance. He slowly walked towards the soldier. Tywin's own men closed in. The soldier had his back to the wall in fear. "So you decided to waste precious time by disregarding of able bodies and skilled laborers?" Tywin asked him, his voice dangerously soft.
The soldier was trembling and didn't answer. Tywin turned away and shook his head. "halfwit," he spat. Tywin approached the boy. "What is your name boy?"
The Boy looked at Tywin in the eye. "Gendry, mi'lord."
"Do you have a trade?"
Gendry nodded. "Smith mi'lord."
Tywin gestured to the boy to emphasize his point. 'He approached the soldier. "Get these prisoners to work, if you can't handle that simple task I'll find me someone that can."
Raynald gestured for Arya to get down. No sooner did the dismount then Bane neighed and took off like a crossbow bolt. The noise caught everyone's attention. Everything happened so fast but to Arya, it seemed to slow down. Bane charged at the large torturer and slammed his head into the man's chest. The force caused the torturer to crash into the wall behind him and he slumped against it. Bane turned around, his eyes burning as they looked at the small man that questioned Gendry. The large man let out a groan so Bane finished him with a kick to the neck. The small man stumbled out of his chair in fear as the raging stallion approached him. he tried to crawl away but it was no use. Bane was upon him as he reared up and the man screamed in terror. Arya expected Bane to kill him instantly. But instead, Bane began slamming his hooves into the helpless man's stomach. The man let out gurgling sounds as his insides were turned to mush. Six pounds later Bane stopped and trotted back to Arya.
Amazingly the man was still alive. As he lay dying, the Lannisters and their prisoners looked in shock at what they had just witnessed. Raynald seemed the most shocked. "By the gods," he gasped, "that horse is from the seven hells."
Tywin was equally surprised but unlike the others, he hid it much better. The people present expected him to have an outburst. Instead, he approached the soldier and said simply. "That horse is smarter than you. It knows the meaning of worthless."
He walked up to Raynald, "Where did that horse come from?"
"We found him with this girl," Raynald replied gesturing to Arya.
Tywin took a look at the young girl. "Is that your horse?"
Arya nodded, Raynald backed up her lie. "It has to be, it won't let anyone else mount him."
This piqued Tywins interest as he studied Arya thoughtfully. Finally, he came to a decision, "I would speak to you in private Ser Raynald."
"Yes my lord," Raynald replied with a bow.
"And bring the girl," Tywin added. "I need a new cup-bearer."
Roland
As Roland and his Renegades galloped to Bitterbridge, they informed him on the war's progression. Due to the small size of his force, Roland was able to move swiftly as opposed to bringing his army there. He did not intend to face his uncle on the open field not with his current numbers.
Roland was dressed in his full armor this time. His armor was all black and consisted of greaves, cuisses, vambraces, rerebraces, spaulders, and mail gauntlets with studs on them. Any openings were covered by chainmail. In a sack was a barbute helm with a Y shaped opening, an aventail, and spike on top with a horsetail attached. He rode a Dark Bay courser, though he was a good mount, Roland sorely missed Bane.
Lord Beric made a report. "Due to the fact that the claimants to the Iron Throne are Baratheon, the supporters of each claimant are called out by colors as opposed to houses. Similar to what they did during the Dance of the Dragons."
Roland cocked an eyebrow in amusement, "oh?"
Lord Beric nodded, "As such, those that have to bend the knee to Joffrey are called the Reds due to his tie to House Lannister, and those that have sided with Lord Renly are called the Greens due to his own ties with House Tyrell."
Roland nodded, "How fitting, seeing as my brother always favored wearing red and my uncle always donned green." He thought foe a moment and spoke up again. "Let me guess, my supporters are called the Blacks?"
Lord Beric nodded, "That is correct, your reputation as the black prince still continues to follow you."
"I'm going to miss that title Lord Beric," Roland said. Truthfully he was, the title black prince had been something he wore proudly all his life, now he would have to discard it. "What are the thoughts of the commoners Lord Beric?" Roland asked.
Refugees continue to pour into King's Landing." Lord Beric replied. They are desperate to escape the devastation that the war has brought to the country. The city has invoked a tax on anyone who wishes to enter."
Roland shook his head, "As if they haven't lost enough already."
Lord Beric continued his report. "Tywin's men continue to raze the Riverlands. Though without the Mountain to lead these attacks, the smallfolk have taken a habit of fighting back."
"Good," Roland nodded in approval. Tywin must know that the people will not take these atrocities without a fight.
Marcus Sand, recently made a knight just before they left was now wondering the purpose of the travel. "Do you think it will come to a fight between you and your uncle?"
Roland looked at the horizon. "I hope not," He replied though he sounded unconvinced. "But considering that the Tyrells got him wrapped around their rosy fingers. The odds of reaching a peaceful agreement is grim.
"Surely a Tyrell is better than a Lannister,"
Roland shrugged, "to be perfectly honest I really don't see much difference between either a Lannister or a Tyrell." Roland turned to Marcus. "Both are as ambitious as they are wealthy. Both influence all of Westeros by virtue of something essential. With the Lannisters it's gold and with the Tyrells it's harvest. Their lords have produced 2 children of renowned beauty and a son with keen intelligence. The leaders of both houses are the most politically astute minds of our time. Tywin Lannister and The Queen of Thorns.
"She's not that keen on military tactics though." Lord Beric pointed out.
Roland smiled tightly. "The Reach has Randyll Tarly for that, I'm convinced Tywin Lannister and Randyll Tarly are twins, given that their minds think alike."
Roland contemplated Renly's support. Roland himself had been more popular than his own siblings. But he had never sought attention like his father and Uncle Renly had. As a result, both Baratheon Brothers, Renly in particular, was always the center of attention at court.
Roland and his companions reached the outskirts of Renly's huge encampment. The scouts were right, there were at least 100,000 men in this sea of tents and banners. Roland guessed that most of these bannermen hailed from the Reach. Roland shook his head, Renly is drowning in flowers, how long before those flowers envelope the Stormlands."
A stormlander sentry stops them and demanded that they identify themselves. But upon seeing Prince Roland at the head he was unsure what to do and chose to let them pass into Renly's camp.
It wasn't hard to find Where King Renly was. All they had to do was follow the source of the loudest cheers. They found a large group of people shouting and jeering in a circle.
At the far end of the circle, Roland saw his uncle wearing his distinctive green armor and a golden crown upon his head. Beside him was a woman of breathtaking beauty, she had big brown eyes and soft brown curls. Roland recognized her as nonother than Margaery Tyrell. 'Gods she is beautiful,' Roland admitted, 'though not as beautiful as Sansa.' the two of them were seated on a heightened platform flanked by men wearing armor of different colors. 'Rainbow Gaurd indeed,' Roland thought.
Inside the circle, they saw that a melee was taking place and only two combatants remained. One was obviously Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers. He was unmistakable in that ridiculous jewel-crusted breastplate. He was wielding a long axe against his opponent.
His opponent was a huge knight in blue colored armor wielding a flail. Roland could see on the sigil of the opponent's shield it hailed from the island of Tarth. The reach lords cheered for their champion knight, while the stormlords rooted for the knight from Tarth.
Both combatants manage to land a number of blows. Ser Loras struck the knight's helm with his axe, The knight responded by bashing Loras with its shield. It was clear that the duel had been going on for some time as both of them were showing signs of fatigue. Ser Loras became more desperate and began swinging the axe around and around.
On the platform, Margaery Tyrell Leaped up and cheered for her brother. Loras had managed to relieve his opponent if it's shield and now was jabbing forward with his axe. The Knight dropped the flail and used it's bulk to tackle the knight of the flowers to the ground. The knight pinned Ser Loras down with its knee and drew a dagger and pointed it at his face.
"Yield, I yield," Ser Loras raised his hands in surrender. Around them, the Reach Lords groaned at seeing their champion defeated.
Renly was the first to clap in congratulations to the knight. "Well fought, well fought," he said genuinely impressed. The crowd followed their king's lead as really gave a gesture to the mysterious knight. "Approach."
The knight obeyed and knelt in front of Renly. Renly smiled at the victor. "Rise and remove your helm."
The knight obeyed without hesitation and revealed to everyone's surprise that the person inside was a Woman. Roland after getting over his surprise chuckled softly to himself he realized now that this was none other than Brienne of Tarth. She was very unattractive, yet her skill in arms could not be denied. "Well, this is certainly interesting."
"You are all you father promised and more My lady," Renly said. "I've seen Ser Loras bested once or twice but never in such a fashion. You may ask anything of me you desire. If it is within my power it is yours."
Brienne knelt once more, "Your grace, I ask for the honor of a place in your Rainbow Gaurd." This caused a stirring amongst the crowd. Ser Loras, in particular, looked very cross. Brienne continued. "I will be one of your seven, pledge my life to yours and keep you safe from all harm."
There was a moment of silence, all eyes turned to Renly. Many, Roland suspected wanted Renly to refuse. Instead, Renly gave a broad grin and nodded. "Done, rise Brienne the Blue of the Rainbow Gaurd."
Amongst the subdued applause, a louder clapping could be heard accompanied by a shrill voice. "Bravo, bravo. How artistically done."
Everyone turned their heads to see a figure dressed in black armor followed by two men and a large dog. The crowd parted to make room for the newcomer. The figure stepped into the circle, revealing the grinning face of Roland. "The Knight of the Flowers bested by a woman. Now that's a song I could listen to all winter."
Murmuring could be heard amongst the men. Ser Loras glared at Roland as Renly's smile faltered slightly. He regained his composure and stood up. "Nephew, how wonderful to see you." He said with false delight. May I introduce you to my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell."
Roland gave her a bow, "Charmed," he replied with a smile.
Margaery declined her head. "You are welcome here Prince Roland, I'm so sorry about your father."
"You are most kind Lady Margaery," Roland replied with a smile.
Renly reached into his jerkin and pulled out a fruit. "Would you care for a peach Roland?" He asked.
"How generous of you Uncle," Roland said with a smile. He reached into his own jerkin and drew out a fruit of his own. "I prefer apples myself." He took a bite savoring the taste as Renly did the same. "I hear that you are hosting a big tourney," Roland spoke up, he smiled deciding to toy with these people for a little bit. "I must admit, I was quite upset when I never was invited to it."
"You weren't invited Prince Roland," Ser Loras quipped icily.
"No?" Roland stepped back in mock shock and turned to his uncle. "My, my, my what an awkward situation my lord."
"Your Grace," Brienne cut in. "And you should kneel when you approach the king."
Beside him, Shadow growled at the armored woman. Roland, however, broadened his smile and looked around mockingly. "A king?" He asked, "There's a king here? Ohh my sincere apologies, someone should have told me. Had I known, I would have put on my best silk." Roland tugged on his jerkin lightly. Some of the Storm Lords hid their smiles. For Roland Baratheon NEVER wore silk.
Marcus Sand glared dangerously at Lady Brienne. "You should remember you courtesies when speaking to your betters Lady Brienne." He growled. "If I recall correctly, House Tarth are banners of House Baratheon."
"King Renly has been crowned by the banners of the Stormlands and the Reach." The voice of Lord Randyll Tarly cut through the air. "You would be wise to bend the knee to him, boy."
Roland chuckled, "King? Uncle Renly?" Roland began to clap, "Well congratulations Uncle, I'm no stranger to ambition, having witnessed plenty of it in King's Landing. I can certainly respect your desire to remove Joffrey." Roland's smile vanished and he began stepping towards the platform. "But there is a small problem with that plan Uncle. I may not know much when it comes to the line of succession. But if I recall correctly you are-" Roland counted his fingers before finishing, "-fourth in line for the throne. Behind me, Tommen and your own brother Stannis. What you are doing here is nothing short of treason Uncle."
The gathered lord was murmuring to themselves. The Stormlords unsure and the Reach lords angry. Margaery Tyrell frowned at the young Baratheon and her brother looked ready to run him through. Renly, however, retained his smile and raised his hand demanding silence. "The Targaryens and their supporters called your father a traitor nephew," Renly pointed out. "Yet he was able to live with it and so shall I."
Roland's smile disappeared and narrowed his eyes, "Don't ever dare to compare yourself to my father Renly." he snapped. "My father merely rebelled against a king. A madman that wanted him dead. You are rebelling not only your king but your family as well. To betray the crown is one thing, to betray your own blood is something else entirely."
At long last Renly's smile vanished, around him the Lords were murmuring again. Renly put a smile back on and spoke. "The crown did not suit your father Roland, It would suit me fine."
Roland rolled his eyes. "AHH, there you go again Renly, bathing in your bubbles of fiction." He looked down before speaking to Renly amused. "Though you are correct Renly, a golden crown will suit you fine. The Iron Throne, however, will not suit you at all."
"Your uncle would make a good king, Prince Roland," Ser Loras snapped. "People love Renly, he is brave, gentle, kind and caring."
Roland rolled his eyes and turned to the knight of the flowers. "Kindness?" He scoffed. "King Aenys was kind, so was Tytos Lannister, and look where it got them. Rebellions that almost ended their dynasties and an early grave." He turned to Renly. "Tyrell has your stones in a vice uncle, they like you because you are easy to manipulate. They'll provide your army, and fund your war. But in the end, if you sit on the Iron Throne, they will own you. You will reign uncle, but you will not rule. I can only hope that the orders come from the Queen of Thorns rather than that giant bag of pudding that is the Lord of Highgarden."
The Stormlords could stand it no longer and many of them began laughing. The Tyrells looked indignant. "You forget Prince Roland," Margaery spoke up. "Our father gave your father his only defeat at the Battle of Ashford."
Roland's eyes darkened, he closed his eyes and started rubbing his temples. "Not this horseshit again." He opened his eyes and glared at them. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's bumbling fools trying to take credits of the accomplishments of better men." He started darting his finger between both Margaery and her brother. "Get this through your heads, Mace Tyrell DID NOT DEFEAT MY FATHER, Randyll Tarly did."
In the crowd, Randyll Tarly was surprised by this show of praise and found himself smiling. He and Roland both seemed to have the same opinion of Mace Tyrell. Roland turned to Margaery and grinned. "Though I suppose we do owe Mace credit. If that moron had not wasted his time at Storm's End my father would never have won the rebellion. Randyll Tarly practically gave you ultimate victory on a silver platter. But thanks to Mace Tyrell that victory was rendered meaningless."
This left the Tyrell siblings fuming at the Baratheon prince's banter. But they did nothing for now anticipating bringing him down to size once they took King's Landing.
Renly spoke up. "I assure you nephew, I am not House Tyrell's pawn.
Roland and his companions Roared with laughter. "Oh really," He challenged, he pointed to Margaery. "Your queen is the daughter of a very wealthy and powerful great lord." Roland's finger then shifted to where Loras was standing. "And her brother is in your personal guard." Roland then began stroking his chin and pretended to think. "this seems oddly familiar. Where have I seen this before? Let me think." The other lords wondered where this was going, The more astute ones figured it out.
Finally, Roland raised a finger into the air. "Ahh, yes I remember now, It's the exact same set up my father had with the Lannisters." Roland cocked his eyebrow in amusement. "Tell me, Uncle, why should I trade a Baratheon king ruled by Lannisters for a Baratheon king ruled by Tyrells?"
"The Tyrells are not Lannisters Nephew." Renly insisted.
Roland smirked. "What did the Tyrells promise, you Uncle? A crown? A share of the power? The Iron Throne?" He turned to Lady Margaery and laughed. "As if it was theirs to give. If I recall correctly you were plotting to make Lady Margaery my father's new Queen. Which I find disgusting mind you seeing as the girl is young enough to be my sister."
Renly shrugged, "well that plot is under the bridge now nephew, she's my queen now."
"Perhaps," Roland quipped before his face darkened and he moved closer to the platform. "Yet it raised a point if Margaery was to be the queen that must mean that something has to happen to my mother?" Roland's face turned angry as he climbed the platform. The Rainbow Gaurd moved to stop him but Renly raised his hand. Roland leaned forward. "So now I ask, uncle what was your plan for my mother?"
For the first time, Renly's eyes betrayed fear as he stared into the dark blue orbs of his nephew's eyes. "Where are you going to slit her throat in the night and call it an accident? Or perhaps drag me and my siblings from our beds in the night like you wanted to do after my father died?"
Renly shook his head rapidly. "N-no I wouldn't harm you."
"But you would usurp me, my mother and my sibling from our rightful place as royals in court. and replace us with Tyrell Royals." Roland countered. Renly remained silent and after a moment Roland descended the platform. "Lion or Rose, a puppet is a puppet. He turns his attention to Renly's new banner." Just look at what you've done to the sigil of our House. Our colors are Black and gold not green and yellow. You might as well go all out and decorate the border with pretty yellow flowers as well."
"The colors are meant to represent my alliance with the Tyrells," Renly reasoned.
"Robert married into House Lannister yet HE never was the need to change his banner."
Renly was losing patience. "Why are you here Roland."
Roland sighed his expression softened and his tone sincere. "Renly you're my uncle, you gave me Bane. We had a decent relationship in the past. I came here to try and convince you to give up this foolish ambition. My brother and the Lannisters are the enemies. We should be fighting together against them instead of each other."
Renly expression softened as he looked at his nephew. "You are only a boy Roland. You are too much like my brother. You love hunting and War as much as he did. Your Father never welcomed the Tyrells to court, you would do the same."
"With good reason, it seems." Roland countered. "Turning the members of house Baratheon against each other doesn't exactly, help merit any form of trust. I've had my belly full of schemers at kings landing I'll not tolerate anymore."
Renly shook his head, "just like Stannis not willing to forgive and forget."
"You were given the role of Master of Laws, yet you refuse to take your duty seriously. How much more for being King?"
"Being King has so many more advantages compared to Master of Laws," Renly replied with a smile. This is the Game of Thrones Roland, the man with more friends is the man with more power."
Roland cocked an eyebrow. "The Game of THRONES, uncle? It seems you are forgetting something. There is only one throne uncle, the only one that matters. Roland's expression became almost pleading, "You think you are the best-suited uncle. But you're not, your to silly and too soft, and the Iron Throne is not made for soft men. For the sake of our family, I beg you to reconsider your actions, I don't wish to destroy you."
Renly gave him a wide smile and gestured to his bannermen. "Look around you nephew, do you see all the banners?"
Roland smirked. "Do you expect me to look at your army and tremble?" He looked around, "well I see them, I see 100,000 men gathered to fight for one man's selfish ambition."
Renly glared at him. "The Stormlords would make me King and the Reach would make me king. What do you have to challenge me?"
"The North and the Riverlands, and the Lords of the Narrow Sea," Roland admitted. "It's not much but it's workable."
"Renly shook his head sadly, "It matters little to me, you have no way of defeating me, Roland."
Roland bowed his head, knowing that a battle was now unavoidable. "We'll see about that uncle, soon we shall see." With that Roland and his companions turned to leave. Shadow let out a bark at Ser Loras causing the man to recoil.
Some of the lords tried to block his path. but Renly raised his hand. "Let my nephew go, we're finished here."
Roland mounted his horse and beckoned for the renegades to follow. but just as he was about to leave a Stormlord approached him. The man, Lord Lester Morrigan gave a slight bow and spoke. "Might I have a word, my prince?"
Roland studied the man for a moment and nodded. He followed the man to a tent at the edge of the camp. Roland, Shadow, Marcus and Rolland Storm entered. Inside was near a dozen other lords from the Stormlands.
"May I ask the purpose of this meeting?" Roland wondered."
The leader of the group was clearly Lord Lester. He was the one to speak. We heard what you said out there." Roland was silent and the man continued. "Some of the lords and I had a bit of council and we think that you raised an interesting point."
Another Lord Omer Blackberry spoke. "Renly could have won the war by now, instead he wastes our time hosting these ridiculous tourneys."
"Given his connection to the Tyrells, he might seceed our lands to that fat Flower of Highgarden." Gerald Gower added.
"We've already had a puppet king under the Lannisters Roland. I mean no disrespect to your father but he was a horrible king. We don't need another."
Roland raised his hand for silence. "It is no crime to tell hard truths. Though my father wasn't as bad as many Targaryen Kings, he was far from a good one. What do you propose exactly Lord Morrigen."
Lord Lester bowed his head. "Renly is our liege lord and by all rights, we must follow where he leads, but his follies cannot be ignored. If you would have us, we wish to pledge our swords to you." With that, the Lords Morrigan, Grandison, Horpe, Wensington, Peasebury, Fell, Wylde, Gower, Bolling, and Blackberry all drew their swords and bend their knees before the black prince.
Roland has studied these men for a while. He could use every sword he could get. But their loyalty remained to be seen. Finally, he gave a gesture. "Your support will be most welcome. Rise, my lords, may your loyalty to me never waver."
Roland, his renegades, and his newly acquired bannermen rode to Fawnton to prepare for the next phase in the war. In the next few months, the war was about to escalate.
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