Chapter 28: Kingswood Aftermath

Author's note: A thousand apologies for this, this wasn't meant to take this long. The chapter was suppose to come out by the end of last year but I hit a wall and after rereading the chapter, it just didn't feel right. So I had to rewrite and debate on which POVs I should do. ONE BIG NOTE THIS STORY IS ABOUT TO BE UPGRADED TO RATED 'M' FOR OBVIOUS REASONS. Any way I hear Euron Greyjoy is set to appear in Season 6 so I'm exited. But D&D better get him right because I swear if they screw this up like they screwed season 5, I'm going to snap. And One thing about Dorne that I just realized. WHERE THE HELL WAS THE ARYS OAKHEART, THE KINGSGUARD ASSIGNED TO PROTECT MYRCELLA IN ALL THIS. Don't say he never existed because we clearly see in season 2 a Kingsguard in the boat Myrcella is on when she departs. According to the wiki he returned to King's landing but, WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU LEAVE ABSOLUTELY NO SEASONED GUARDS IN DORNE TO PROTECT HER. Think writers THIIIIIIIIINK! Well read review and again apologies for the wait.

Theon

Months had passed since Theon made his fateful decision. When he landed on the stony shore he expected to meet resistance. But the force he encountered turned out to be just a bunch of green boys eager for glory. The band was cut down in a hail of arrows while their leader was taken captive.

The leader of the band happen to be Benfred Tallhart. A boy Theon knew from his time as Ned Starks ward. When Theon tried to question him, Benfred let out a stream of curses before spitting in Theon's face. Theon responded by giving him to Aeron to be drowned.

After dealing with Benfred, Theon moved on to one of the fishing villages. But when he arrived Theon quickly realized that something was amiss. The fishing village lacked the usual activity and lack of fishing boats. Coming closer he found the village had been completely abandoned. Checking the buildings, Theon found that there was nothing left. Everything had been taken leaving nothing but empty homes.

Where are the villagers?" Dagmer Cleftjaw voice the question on the minds of the ironborn. Theon shook his head, this was all wrong.

"A raid?" One man suggested.

Aeron disagreed, "look around, no damage or signs of any struggle."

"Is it possible they were warned?" Another suggested.

Theon dismissed that. "They couldn't have cleared the whole village in time."

Aeron sighed, "this place is of no use to us, nephew let us go to the next one." Theon nodded in agreement.

But in the next village they found the same thing, the whole place had been deserted. It was the same for every other fishing village of the Stony Shore. The ironborn were become frustrated and nervous.

Aeron pulled Theon aside for a private talk. "Did you warn the wolf pup of your father's plans?" He asked his voice dead panned.

Theon's eyes widened and shocked that his own uncle would make such an accusation. He shook his head rapidly, "no nuncle, I swear it by the drowned god."

Aeron sighed. "I had to ask, none of this feels right, but it wouldn't stop the men from thinking it."

Theon shook his head, He had a plan for his northern campaign, but the oddity in the fishing villages changed everything. Having a hunch, Theon sent scouts to Tornhen's Square. They returned to confirm his fear. The castle was fully garrisoned prepared for a siege. If Torrhen's Square was garrisoned than it is save to assume that Winterfell is as well.

"What now Prince Theon?" Dagmer Claftjaw asked. "We don't have the men to take Torrhen's square while it's fully garrisoned."

Theon nodded grimly. with the fishing villages and the strongholds garrisoned, he would need a new plan. "Gather the men," he ordered, "we're marching north."

"You mean to join your sister?" Aeron asked.

Theon sighed, "what else can I do Nuncle? If you have a better plan now would be the time to share it." Aeron's silence was all he needed.

Eddard

Eddard had his hands buried in his head. The news of the Ironborn incursion into the north had reached his ears. Balon Greyjoy's daughter had attacked Deepwood Motte while his brother Victarion had tried to take Moat Cailin. Then came news of the death of Galbert Glover. Galbert had been one of Eddard's closest friends and a true northman.

He sat at the table with his chief lords including GreatJon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Roose Bolton and Wylis Manderly.

"It seems the young stag was right about the Greyjoys," GreatJon said finally.

The other lords nodded in agreement. "I'm surprised that Roland was able to pinpoint exactly where the ironborn would attack so accurately." Roose added.

"It's a good thing The king had us send those forces back when he did." Rickard said shaking his head. I can't imagine what would of happened with the north undefended."

"Is it true about Theon?" Eddard asked again with a deep sigh.

Roose Bolton nodded, "we received ravens from Barrowtown, the Rills and Torrhen's Square. I fear it is true. Theon tried to raid the fishing villages, and slayed Se Talharts heir."

"How is Robb handling the news?" Wylis Manderly asked gently.

Eddard shook his head, "not well, my son has just experienced his first betrayal."

"Boy should have known better than to trust that ironborn shit." Greatjon roared to the approval of everyone present.

A squire entered the tent and bowed. "Pardon me, my lords," He said nervously. "But a man of the Night's Watch is here to see you."

The Northerners looked at each other and Eddard nodded. "Send him in."

The Squire nodded and opened the flap. A slim middle-aged man entered. He had black eyes and hair streaked with grey, his face was hard and bore little humor. As he entered he gave a bow and focused on Lord Stark his eyes showing nothing but contempt. "Lord Stark."

"Ser Alliser," Eddard nodded in acknowledgment, he offered the man a seat which Alliser took. "I have not seen you since the sack of King's Landing."

"It has been a long time 'Lord' Stark," Ser Alliser replied.

"What brings you this far south?"

Ser Alliser sighed heavily. "Nominally I wouldn't of come here at all, given your status as a traitor." This caused angry muttering amongst the northmen present. GreatJon nearly drew his sword causing the knight to look around nervously. But Eddard raised his hand, calming his fuming bannermen.

Ser Alliser continued. "But I know you are probably the only one who will take my case seriously."

"What is of such importance to me." Lord Eddard asked now curious.

"The cold winds are rising Lord Stark and the dead now rise with it. The tales of the wrights are true."

The Walkers are a myth." Eddard said dismissively. "They have been gone for thousands of years."

Ser Alliser shook his head, "that is where you are wrong Lord Stark." The knight placed a jar on the table and pulled off the cover. Inside was a severed rotting hand. Nothing about it stood out and it looked perfectly normal except for one thing. The fingers on the hand slowly opened and closed like the pedals of a flower.

Greatjon Umber reeled back in shock. "By the gods," he exclaimed. "It still moves."

"What sorcery is this?" Rickard Karstark demanded.

Ser Alliser remained calm as he spoke. "I assure you my lords that this is no ruse. What you see before you is real. This hand was taken from a dead ranger that attacked our lord commander. He would of killed him had Stark's Bastard not intervened. This is only a taste, there will be more, many more."

Eddard stood up and paced the room. 'Roland must be warned,' He thought. After a moment he turned to Ser Alliser, "you did the realm a great service by bringing this to us. We shall send any man we can spare to help in this turn of events.

Ser Alliser bowed. "The Nights Watch is grateful for any aid sent to us."

After the council, Eddard went to visit his son As he entered the tent he found Robb brooding over a flagon of wine. His eyes in a thousand mile stare as he looked down at a map of the north.

Robb barely noticed his father enter the tent. Eddard cleared his throat, "Robb."

Robb finally broke his stare and turned to face his father with a nod, "Father."

Eddard walked over to him and placed a hand on his back. "How are you feeling."

Robb shook his head and took a gulp of wine. "How do you think I feel Father?" He asked in exasperation. "The man I called brother for years has betrayed me and our family."

Eddard sighed and squeezed his son's shoulder. "I'm sure this wasn't an easy choice for him," Eddard always tried to be the reasonable one. For his part Eddard remembered the young boy he had taken from his own family many years ago. Perhaps Theon had harbored hidden resentment for the separation. "It is not an easy thing to do, fighting against your own blood."

"Roland doesn't seem to be too bothered," Robb pointed out.

"No," Eddard agreed. "But Theon's family never tried to kill him." He smiled tightly, "Perhaps Roland is troubled but refused to show it. Baratheons have always had a terrible habit of containing their feelings."

Robb bowed his head. "In the end he was right," Robb muttered miserably. "I refused to believe it would happen I prayed that it was false. Now I can hear Roland telling me 'I told you so." Robb took another gulp of wine and continued. "I don't understand, I have known Theon for years, Roland knew him for a week, How could he have seen it and I could not?"

Eddard took a seat. "It is plain that we are not meant for the south Robb." Robb looked at his father confused. Eddard continued, "we Starks were raised in the north, where integrity is valued and strength is our weapon. Roland was raised in the south, where cunning is a value, and deception is the weapon of choice. He is use to it and I know he has skill in it. I nearly made the mistake of trusting Baelish because he was your mother's friend. Had I not heeded Roland's advice, I might of ended up far worse."

Roland

Roland woke with a start and was met with a splitting headache. He found himself in the medical tent. In a camp bustling with activity. Shaking the sleep from his brain he sat up on the bed. Roland groaned as he rubbed his ribs were he had been bruised. The flap of the tent opened to reveal his uncle coming.

Lord Stannis approached him with a bow. "Nephew."

Roland's eyes widened in surprise. "Uncle, how are you here?"

"I arrive late last night my king," Stannis replied in his usual gruff voice.

Roland nodded and winced as the gesture hurt his head. "What is the situation?" Roland wanted to know everything, their losses and gains.

Stannis took a deep breath before continuing. "We lost about 2,000 men, my king. Renly's losses number three times that."

Roland sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. "What of any gains?" he asked wondering the answer.

"Most of the Renly's forces surrendered and bend the knee after my brother's death," Stannis replied. "About 10,000, the other 4,000 fled with Randyll Tarly."

Roland got up a little too fast, his arms holding his bruised side. He put on a doublet and a jerkin over it. After he had dressed, Roland and his uncle began walking along the camp. as they passed many men bowed with the usual "my king", much to Roland slight annoyance. "How many horse do we have?"

Stannis looked at his nephew curiously. "Around 12,000 in total, why do you ask?"

Roland sighed heavily. "I need them ready to ride as soon as they are able."

This took Stannis back, what did Roland plan to do with their cavalry, "A-all of them Roland?"

His nephew nodded briskly, "all of them."

"Would you mind telling me what you have planned."

Roland nodded, "We need to get to Bitterbridge."

That was when Stannis understood. Over half of the stormlords were still there. When news of Renly's death reaches them. A fight would likely break out between. Those who would support Roland and those that would not. Perhaps some reach lords would also be willing to bend the knee.

"Why not just sent a few envoys?" Stannis asked.

Roland shook his head, "you know Randyll Tarly he'll spear their heads to spikes." Stannis nodded admittingly

"How soon can we be ready?" Roland pressed urgently.

Stannis took a moment to think. "This is rather sudden Nephew, It will take time to prepare. My best estimate will be tomorrow morning."

Roland nodded, "It will have to do." He paused for a moment and turned to his uncle. "I-I'm sorry about Renly," he said cautiously. "You must know that I didn't want this."

Stannis looked down at his nephew, the hurt was clear in both their eyes. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I know nephew, I grieve for him as well. Renly may have brought his doom upon himself, but I did love him Roland, I know that now."

Roland shook his head. "Where is he now?"

Stannis stopped. "He is in the tent further ahead. Ser Loras is already there mourning his lover."

That surprised Roland. "I did not know we had captured the Knight of the Flowers uncle."

Stannis nodded. "He passed out sometime during the battle."

Roland nodded and walked ahead towards the tent, He lifted the flap and went inside. In the middle of the tent, the body of Renly Baratheon was stretched out across the table. He was dressed in his distinctive green armour and his sword places atop his chest. Loras Tyrell was kneeling beside his body. He was quiet but Roland could see the drops of water streaming down his face.

Loras turned his head upon hearing the tent flap open. As soon as he saw Roland, his eyes narrowed. Loras wanted nothing more then to wrap his hands around the young king's throat and choke the life from him. But Roland was armed and Loras' hands were bound.

Roland noted the bandage wrapped around Loras' face. The scar Roland had given him was still relatively fresh. Loras looked away back to the body of Renly.

"I'm sorry," Roland said after a moment. "I never wanted it to come to this. I warned him I practically begged him so see reason. But your lover brought this upon himself."

Loras' breath shuddered as he clenched his fist. "He would have been a true king, a good king. But now you have doomed the realm by doing this."

"Don't play the victim here Loras Tyrell," Roland snarled. "Or do you truly believe none of this is your fault."

Loras leaped up and grabbed him by the collar. "HOW DARE YOU BLAME ME FOR HIS DEATH!" He roared. "I LOVED HIM, I WOULD OF DONE ANYTHING FOR HIM!"

Roland remained calm even with the angry man in his face. "Of that I have no doubt." He said. "But you are the one who poisoned his mind with whisperings of Kingship. You talked and he listened. You thought you could protect him defeat his foes with a single swing of your sword. In that, you are so much like Jaime Lannister."

Loras' angry demeanor broke and he released his grip as he collapsed against the table sobbing.

Roland sighed and placed his hand on Renly's forehead. "Farewell Uncle, I wish things had been different." He turned to walk out of the tent when Loras spoke up.

"What will become of him?"

Roland thought for a moment before answering. "I would be sending him to Storm's End to be buried with the rest of our kin. Renly may have betrayed the family but he's still a Baratheon. You will be allowed to accompany the convoy if you wish."

"Am I your prisoner then?" Loras asked.

"I don't like that idea any more than you do." Roland said softly. "But I have little choice."

Loras bowed his head and turned back to Renly's body as Roland left the Tent.

As Stannis prepared the bulk of the army for the march to Storm's End. Roland prepared his mounted units to ride for Bitterbridge. The entire mounted force numbered around 12,000. Roland's Renegades gained more men as well. Dermot of the Rainwood, Will the Stork, Shadrich the Mad Mouse, Illifer the Penniless, Creighton Longbough, had joined Roland's band. A number from Renly's former Rainbow guard also joined him Robar Royce, Guyard Morrigan, Emmon Cuy and Parmen Crane. Roland had sent Lord Beric back to Blackhaven and Lord Caron to Nightsong. By morning, they were ready to depart.

Roland mounted his horse and turned to Stannis. "I will rejoin you in two weeks time," He told his uncle.

"I hope that your ride is not in vain," Stannis replied.

Roland nodded, "as do I uncle."

Cersei

Roland's victory over King Renly had spread across King's Landing. The capital buzzed with talk, rumors or reports. Those that has supported Renly now divided themselves between the Blacks and the Reds. It was no secret much of the population supported Roland. Now that he had proven himself in battle his number of supporters will likely increase.

Cersei sat with her brothers and the small council. The elimination of Renly was celebrated in the Red Keep. One king was down only two more remained to oppose Joffrey.

"Here's to Renly Baratheon," Cersei toasted with a smile.

"May he sit forever on a chair made of cock," Jaime added with a laugh

Everyone raised their goblets and took a drink. Tyrion was not as cheery as his elder siblings.

"This is all well and good," He said. "But the death of Renly means that his forces will flock to Roland giving him the strength he needs to take King's Landing.

Cersei laughed, "I doubt the Tyrells will flock to him after what he did to their precious flower Knight. She laughed, but she understood that Roland was now one step closer to winning the war.

Despite this Cersei couldn't help but feel pride in Roland's victory at the Battle of the Kingswood. 'My own son did that,' she thought to herself. 'His first battle and his first victory.' She had laughed when she heard that Roland had not only defeated Loras Tyrell in single combat he had marred that arrogant twat's pretty face.

Varys nodded. "Well at the moment Roland has Ser Loras captive, that should keep the Reach at bay for a time."

"Perhaps we should take advantage of this," Littlefinger suggested. Everyone turned to him and Baelish continued. Renly's death now means that his wife is now a widow. Maybe we should take advantage of Margaery Tyrell's availability.

Everyone quickly realized what he was suggesting. "My late husband did have plans to betroth my son to the Tyrell girl," Cersei remembered. "Joff did express interest in the idea ever since he lost Sansa to Roland."

"But who would be so bold as to offer this proposal to Mace Tyrell?" Tyrion wondered. Their was no seriousness in his voice as everyone knew who would be the first to jump at the opportunity.

Littlefinger stood up, "it would my humble honor and privilege to do this your grace he told Cersei. The small council turned to Cersei for a verdict. Cersei smiled slyly, "you have our blessing Lord Baelish," Cersei said. "Bring the Tyrells into our arms and should you succeed I'll see to it that you are properly rewarded." Littlefinger bowed deeply and left the room.

After He had left Jaime turned to Cersei, "now that matter has been settled, we should discuss our plan to defend the city against Roland attack."

"We've been preparing," Cersei insisted. "Janos Slynt had already increased the size of the city watch. Siege engines have been built to defend against Roland's fleet. I also have other plans being arranged."

"What sort of plans?" Jaime inquired.

Cersei froze. Her mind was working out as to wether to tell her brothers the plan. Despite her mistrust for Tyrion she did trust Jaime. "I have had the Achlemist Guild producing wildfire," She said quietly.

Jaime and Tyrion paled when they heard the name of the weapon. "Wildfire?!" Tyrion exclaimed in horror. Have you lost your mind Cersei."

"Watch your tongue little brother," Cersei snapped.

"Tyrion's right Cersei," Jamie intervened. "Do you realize how dangerous that is, have you forgotten King Aerys wildfire plot?"

"Of course I haven't Jaime," Cersei turned on him. "But we need something to beat back Roland's army. I have the wildfire in jugs and we'll use the catapults to fling them at the black's ships and men."

"That Wildfyre can just as easily burn the whole city down." Jaime protested. "Get rid of it."

"No."

Cersei and Jaime turned towards Tyrion both shocked at his answer. Tyrion was stroking his chin in thought. Before either twin could say anything Tyrion continued. Both of you are right, we need a weapon and it is extremely dangerous. The situation is delicate But I can work with this.

"Do you have a plan little brother," Jaime asked curiously.

Tyrion tapped the table as a smile spread across his face.

Joffrey no longer attended the small council meetings much to the relief of everyone. Ever since Jaime's return He had taken Roland's advice to heart and began training Joffrey with a blade. Naturally Joffrey had outright refused, to take it seriously. So Jaime decided on a different method, He used Joffrey's hatred for his brother to motivate him. Joffrey was ecstatic about the idea of beating Roland in a duel and agreed.

Now Cersei watched as her eldest son was sparring with her brother. Joffrey was drenched in sweat and he was breathing heavily nevertheless he continued on clashing steel with Jaime. Every so often Jaime would shout advice to his 'nephew'.

"You keep leaving your right side open." Jaime scolded. Joffrey blocked and parried as best he could. "Don't hold the sword so tightly." Jaime swatted Joffrey's hand with the flat end of his practice sword causing Joffrey to drop his weapon.

"Now you held it too lightly." Jaime scolded.

Joffrey scoffed and kicked the dirt. "This is pointless," He exclaimed.

"This is to prepare you Joffrey," Jaime quipped. "Would you let Roland cut you to ribbons."

Joffrey laughed, "If Roland does have the courage to face me the only thing that will be cut down is him." Joffrey declared.

"You'll be dead before you even touch him." Jaime snapped. "Roland has trained with a blade all his life," he explained. "Ever since he received a wooden sword on his sixth nameday, from dawn to dust he practiced. He would push himself, until his bones cacked, his skin split and his muscles ached. Yet he still continued, until he could barely walk back to his chambers." Jaime sighed, "you were once the same way, then Uncle Kevan gives you a crossbow on your ninth nameday and you fell in love with the weapon. You wouldn't touch your sword unless it was for appearances."

"So what if I prefer crossbows over swords?"

"Did Aegon Targaryen use a crossbow?" Jaime asked. "How about the Young Dragon or king Maekar or your own father. All were great warriors and none of them ever used a crossbow. "Swords are the weapons of kings, warhammers, battleaxes, and maces are all weapons of kings, not crossbows. Do you want to be called a cub forever."

Joffrey look at the ground remembering Roland. 'It's not fair,' Joffrey thought, I am the king, yet Roland is the one who gets anything he wants. Father's affection, smallfolk calling his name, Sansa. Though he couldn't care less for the girl the fact that Roland took a beautiful girl from his grasp shook him to no end. Plus the fact that Roland had robbed him of the pleasure of seeing Ned Stark's head roll of his shoulders. 'Roland will pay,' Joffrey thought, 'one day I will bring him down.' With those thoughts in his head Joffrey nodded. He picked up his sword and resumed a fighting stance.