6

A Throne Nobody Wants

Chapter 6

*** King's Landing, Tower of the Hand- Sansa***

Sansa blinked as she found herself standing in the middle of an undulating field covered in flowers. The large Weirtree and Taiga, her direwolf , could be seen nearby, though Taiga was asleep. The sky overhead was clear blue, with a vibrant golden sun beaming down on the grassy hills. She looked down at herself and that she was dressed in a loose blue dress that was quite comfortable but too brief to wear in public. It was the same thing she wore when she went to sleep. Was this a dream or reality? The odd part about the field was the odd patches of flowers that covered pillars protruding a few feet from the ground.

Looking to her right, she noticed that there was such an object near her, covered in vines and an assortment of flowers. Bending down, she could smell the fragrant scent of the plants but also something else; something metallic, like steel. Narrowing her blue eyes, she touched the flower covered pillar and found that its core was solid.

She wondered on its origins before, with a determined look, she began to shift through the flowers, only to be rewarded with a sharp cut. Immediately pulling her hand out, she looked at her thumb and saw a deep cut on it, already beginning to leak blood.

Redoubling her efforts, she slowly untangled the thick growth and slowly unveil a sword in the middle of the field. With some amazement, she looked around her and realized that the other pillars were probably just like it.

"What is this...? I don't even..."

CLANK!

Sansa immediately turned around; she recognized the sound of clashing steel anywhere. Her jaw dropped slightly at the sight before her. In the horizon were two more suns in the sky. To her left, she saw brown clear hills, its landscape dotted with something she couldn't quite make out yet. The sky over head was as if dawn was breaking. To her right, there appeared to be interlocking gears rotating in the sky. The sky overhead wasn't dark, it was filled with smoky black clouds, giving the illusion of approaching dusk.

CLANK! CLANK!

Without much preamble, Sansa ran towards the sound of clashing swords in the distance. She weaved through the flowery field easily and after a few minutes, she stopped at the sight before her. Her vibrant field bordered the dawn and dusk lands. In front of her, a land blanketed in black and white fog was dotted with innumerable swords, all lying unclaimed. But why were these so different from the flower covered swords of the fields? It looked as if three different worlds had been stitched together, forming a strange amalgamation.

CLANK! CLANK!

Continuing to follow the sounds, she stepped into the field of blades as she tried to pinpoint their origin. Setting her face, she picked up two nearby swords in case whatever ahead proved unfriendly. One from the Dawnlands, and the other from the Gearworks land. They were similar in design to that of a sword from Westeros but had been curved liked sabers.

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

Sansa grimaced as the sounds of fighting intensified until she crested a hill and looked down to see two shadows fighting in the fog. Finally, as if listening to her will, the fog cleared revealing the two combatants. She saw the male on the right first. He was tall, with white hair and dark skinned. He also wore a red cloak that matched the rest of his outfit and appeared to be furiously attacking the shorter combatant. The two locked blades before pushing each other away.

Then she saw the second fighter. She must have gasped, because the two fighters froze mid-fight and turned to look at her. The boy, with the determined face and red hair, looked at her in concern. The man also gave a double take at seeing her but immediately reigned in his emotions, his face giving nothing away.

"E-Emiya Shirou?" Sansa spoke aloud at her existence in another life.

The boy, Emiya, looked at her and blushed slightly before bringing his attention back to the dark skinned man just in case he was attacked. But the dark skinned man had dropped his sword and folded his arms looking up at her with the same neutral expression.

"Who are you and how did you get here?" the white hair man asked. Her previous existence seemed to glare at the man for his bluntness but looked back at her with kindly eyes.

"I-... I don't know... I was in the field over there and saw, these two fields here," she answered them, still looking at a face she had not seen in over a life time. It was her! "The sound of fighting drew me here."

"How foolish, to follow a battle it's source," the white hair man harrumphed as he still looked at her as if trying to determine what she was. "Looks like I'm in the presence of two idiots now."

"Shut up Archer!" Her previous existence shouted at the white hair man.

'So the man's name is Archer...'

"Even you can't be so far gone as to want to do battle with an innocent bystander here of all places?" Her former self glared at Archer.

"Have I ever given you the impression that I cared about collateral damage?" Archer taunted but he didn't make any more moves to re-engage. His words only seem to incense the Emiya Shirou before her and if she was honest, her also.

"So... Umm, Miss...?" her previous existence prompted her with a questioning look. He was looking at her with those stupidly kind eyes again. Did she always look like that?

"Sansa Stark," Sansa found herself surprised at the answer. The name had come so naturally to her. Had she already abandoned her previous identity?

"The question is; how did she end up in my reality marble," Archer drawled out lazily. Before a look of epiphany lit up on his face. "You mentioned something about a third field?"

Sansa nodded and pointed in the direction she came from, her previous existence, Shirou, looked at where she pointed, as did Archer. She felt a burst of magical energy as Archer narrowed his eyes before his body stiffened.

"Impossible!" Archer spoke up in alarm as he turned close the distance between them, Shirou, immediately got in front of her, his weapon raised, which only seemed to further annoy Archer.

"Not another move!" Shirou warned, his two blades poised to strike.

Archer narrowed his eyes. "Look at where she came from you idiot and tell me if it doesn't look familiar."

Sansa moved back as Shirou backed away from Archer with her and turned his head and glanced through the fog and even his eyes widen. "What… that looks almost like... my... yours, our... reality marble? How is that possible?"

Archer's eyes never left her and before she knew it he charged her, intending to strike. Shirou and her reacted instantly and brought their weapons in a similar fashion to block the attack.

Shirou looked over to her, surprised etched on his face. The transition and flow was smoothly done, it was also one taught by her old sensei, Taiga.

"You get it now fool? She's probably a version of us." Archer answered with a level look as he pulled back from the attack.

'Us?'

Upon closer inspection, the dark skinned man really did look like an older version of her male self. As ludicrous as it sounded, if she could be reborn as a girl, then the man in front of her could be a future version of Shirou.

"What?" Shirou appeared lost looking between Archer and her.

Sansa figure it was time to revealed her identity and looked at Shirou. "Where I came from, my name IS Sansa Stark of House Stark, rulers of Winterfell. I am the third oldest child in a family of eight."

She made eye contact with Shirou and Archer once more before she continued.

"However, before I was Sansa Stark, my name was Emiya Shirou of Fuyuki City," Sansa said, drawing a wide eyed look from Shirou and a glare from Archer. Clearly he was not as unflappable as he presented himself.

There was a few moment of silence before Shirou, who eyes had blatantly started to roam over her body that would have been consider rude in Westeros, spoke up.

"How?"

"I have no idea how I ended up being reborn as Sansa Stark, but, my final memories as Shirou was getting stabbed through the heart in school by a weird guy with a lance."

Archer and Shirou, who had appeared to be at odds with each other, glanced in surprise at one another.

"You died to that attack?" Archer asked, his face adorned with a puzzled frown.

"Getting stabbed through the heart is kind of hard to survive," Sansa bluntly replied.

"... Interesting. So Rin wasn't there to bring you back..." Archer mused more to himself then anyone.

"So... You don't know anything about the Grail Wars?" Shirou spoke up suddenly looking at her.

"What are the Grail Wars?" She asked her former self.

Suddenly Archer made a movement and walked past them both in the direction of what she now considered her field.

Shirou shared a look with her before they began to follow their older counterpart through the black and white fog into the field of flowers. As they neared their destination, the saw Archer's surprised expression as he examined a gleaming blade, broken flowers and vines where the blade once was. Behind her, Shirou was stared at the Weirtree and Taiga sleeping form. Taiga have grown big, she was easily the size of a lion now.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asked the taller version of her former self. The man appeared to be eyeing the blade critically, even running his thumb on the sharp edge. Upon seeing their approach he tossed the weapon to Shirou.

"Trace it." Archer ordered the boy.

Shirou glared at Archer and shot her an apologetic look. Didn't the fool know that she was once HIM, so she knew exactly what the expression was meant to convey. And now she just sounded like Archer.

Sansa palmed her forehead even as she heard Shirou muttered the incantation.

"It's a very good blade, well crafted," Shirou complimented as he was looked at the blade.

"Yes... it shouldn't be that good." Archer mused as he took a look around at the brightly cover field, Shirou doing the same.

"What does it matter?" Shirou asked as he stabbed the plain looking blade into the ground.

"Look around you!" Archer half shouted and swung his arms out to encompass the fields. "With this for the core of her soul, she shouldn't be able to make blades this fine. Nothing should be that easy."

Shirou looked puzzled, still not understanding but Sansa had seen this behavior dozens of time in court already.

"You're jealous..."

Archer whirled on her and gave her a hard glare but he did not deny her accusation. Suddenly he propped himself down on the flowery field, his legs folded. He then beckoned for Shirou to also take a seat.

"Sit down. There will be no more fighting for now."

Shirou warily sat down, before Sansa decided to follow suit. The three made a triangle as a light breeze caressed the group. She could smell metal and soot from Archer, while dust and dry air from Shirou.

Archer seemed to breathe the clean air in before turning to face her.

"So, Sansa, tell us more about yourself."

+++ Arthur+++

Arthur watched as the melee group gathered into what was a glorified holding pen that was least a hundred yards in length and width. There were easily over one hundred men in melee pit, not counting the officials.

Due to the thunderstorm that happened yesterday, the Melee had been postponed until today. Amazingly enough, the ground wasn't too muddy and there was a large crowd around the area, most likely due to the presence of the King, the Princess and their Kingsguard. Already, he could see people trying to make allies with one another. None however offered to become allies with him. In fact he received quite a few dark looks.

Arthur surveyed the field for his target before smiling as Gregor and two of his bannermen entered the area. The rules here were brutal, but it only worked to his advantage. At any given time, a man could shout that he yielded and be disqualified. The contestant would then be forced to move on OR be disqualified himself.

Those that were knocked out would be taken from the field until only one contestant remained. Maiming was expected and dismemberment more so. The Melee was not for the faint of heart. He could already see people in smaller groups, eyeing each other up, some, like him, were hoping to settle hostilities between houses through violence.

Arthur did a double take when he saw a red priest here; the man no doubt planning on using his fire 'magic'. They called it magic but... Arthur knew magic. Yesterday the air was saturated in it. It was as if a dam had burst and flooded the world again, the heavy feeling of it was now gone. Looking at his plate covered gauntlets, he felt inside of him, a well of prana, untapped. Despite this, he still couldn't access it. Like any skill, it would need to be learned, worked upon and hone to perfection. Then there was the fact that he needed a weapon that can withstand the prana that would flood his weapon. Simply channeling it into regular steel would break it and he didn't want to break Irisviel.

He heard a Westeros legend that said magic left the world when the last dragon died. Well if magic returned, did that mean a dragon was alive somewhere?

"Hello my friend."

Arthur looked up to see a handsome reddish gold hair, almost as tall as him. "Greetings Ser..."

The man broke into an easy grinned and smiled. "Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven."

Arthur smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid I am not familiar with the nobles of Westeros."

If anything, the man only grinned wider as he slung his hand around Arthur shoulders. "It's quite all right. In battle, all men are equal. After all, your sword cuts just as well as mine."

Arthur frowned at the man's familiarity but that did not seem to deter the man. "I have joined expecting to do pretty well, but then the Princess and the King joined! I expected to be in a forty man pit, not one of this size."

"It seems... chaotic," Arthur admitted and saw the man was now all smiles.

"Which is why I thought to myself: 'Beric, you need to befriend the nastiest son of a bitch on this field if you want to make it home to your lovely betrothed'."

Arthur raised an eyebrow but waited for the man to continue.

"However, Ser Gregor is out of the picture, which leaves you: the mysterious Black Knight! So what do you say? Care to watch each other's backs? At least until we get to the end?"

"If you prove a liability..." Arthur started but saw the Lord of Blackhaven raise his hand.

"If I slow you down my friend, I'll yield. All I ask is that you ensure no one attacks my blindside." Beric bargained before smiling when Arthur nodded his head once.

"Excellent! If I win, I'll split the winnings with you."

Eventually, the last of the group filtered in, several heavy armored men on horses. They appeared to be from Highgarden and Loras was one of them. It was then the Knight of Flower turned his attention on Arthur and sent him a wink, something that put him ill at ease.

"Looks like you have an admirer! Pity it's the wrong sort," Beric grinned teasingly.

"Arthur! Over here!"

Arthur turned to the stands and saw that the worried looking Hand with his two daughters, and a boy that must have been his son, had taken their seats. Arya was on her seat waving frantically to him, while Sansa appeared to be quite distracted. The younger boy merely looked excited at the gathering and distracted his father by pointing at passing knights.

"Oh, I spoke too soon, your Queen calls you Ser Arthur," the Lord of Blackhaven grinned and shoved Arthur toward the girl. The girl in question was ignoring both her father and a Septa, what they called a nun in this world, who were chastising the girl no doubt for her unladylike behavior.

"Lord Dondarrion," Arthur tilted his head in acknowledgment of the man jest and made his way to the girl. To his surprise, when he reached the railing, the girl jumped at him, forcing him to catch her much like he used to with Daenerys.

"Careful!" Three voices yelled at once. Arthur saw the Hand and the Septa both looking at him in amazement. The other two voices must have been from them. Her sister had an indulgent look while her younger brother gaped at seeing him.

"You have to win today too! You're my Knight Champion after all." Arya commanded, her face solemn and serious. "Too bad father won't let me join. Could you imagine it? Me with Needle watching your back as you swing Irisviel around!"

As if she just came up with the idea she gave one last pleading look to her father but with a firm shake of his head, the Hand denied her request.

"Lord Hand," Arthur greeted as he handed the small girl back over to her father. The man looked exasperated but smiled gratefully at Arthur.

"Forgive my daughter's impudence Ser Arthur," the Hand apologized, making the girl grumble but smiled at him all the same.

"There is nothing to forgive, Lord Hand," Arthur replied and was about to leave when the older sister, Sansa, walked to the railing.

"Forgive me Ser Arthur, but might I trouble you for a request?" Sansa asked Arthur making Arya turned to her sister in shock along with her father.

"Of course," Arthur replied politely wondering what the girl could want, remembering how focused on him she had been the previous day, including when she had been competing in Archery. The girl was skilled in archery if nothing else. "What can I help you with my lady?"

He heard a huff of annoyance from Arya that was quickly silenced by a glare from the Lord Hand.

"May I see Irisviel?" Sansa asked, an uncertain tone in her voice.

Shrugging his shoulders, he nodded and pulled the blade from its scabbard and held it out to her. The girl seemed to close her eyes as she touched the blade, muttering softly under her breath. A moment later she looked up at him and smiled.

"Thank you Ser. It's a very well-crafted blade," Sansa complimented before sitting back down.

A moment later the Crown Prince and the Queen made their way behind the Hand to sit at the main dais. The Crown Prince did look princely but a bit scrawny, though there was callous on his hand to show that he had some skill. The Queen however was a beauty in her own right, almost like an older version of Princess Mordred. It appeared the Princess would age well.

"Joffrey! Get your arse down here!" a girlish voice shouted. There was a splash of water as Arthur found himself standing next to Mordred. Her armor was gray with the golden Baratheon stag engraved on her chest plate and two lion engraved on her shoulders.

"No!" the beautiful Queen rejected on the crown prince behalf.

"Awww, would you stop coddling the boy! I'm in there aren't I?" Mordred taunted as she did a quick spin in front of her mother. "And if I can do it so can he. He should be down here, make it a family affair."

"I said no, I'll not let the next king of the Seven Kingdoms be maimed just because you want to have fun!" the Queen's tone brooked no argument as she glared at her daughter.

Suddenly Mordred's glare disappeared, replaced by a coy smile. "Don't you think a boy should fight by his father's side? If not how about Uncle Jaime?"

The Queen looked stricken by her daughter's words as her eyes darted to where the king and his kingsguard were gathered before turning red with rage.

"Wish us luck mother!" Mordred, as if having already achieving her aims, gave the Queen a jauntily salute and skipped back to the king forces.

Arthur saw the dark hair king talked with his daughter before she pointed over to where the Queen and Crown prince was standing. There appeared to be a surprised look on the king face before both father and daughter began to laugh boisterously while pointing over to where the Queen was, Mordred earned yet another gale of laughter from her father by puffing out her cheeks.

"But I wanted to join mother, I need to prove that I am worthy of my sister's... praise, her praises that is!" Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon amended as to not be misconstrued.

"Arthur!" Arya shouted to get his attention. The girl was leaning on the railing and beckoning him to come closer. When he leaned down, he was surprise to feel a little sensation on his cheek. It was as if a butterfly landed on his cheek. Eyes wide in amazement he looked down at the red faced girl. Apparently, he wasn't the only one surprised as her father and sister were also staring at her.

"That- That's for luck, so you better go out there and win!"

"...right," Arthur nodded and bowed low earning another smile from her. "I will try my best my lady."

"You're damn right..." the little girl muttered under her breath.

"Arya!" the Septa admonished but the girl was seated again.

Arthur smiled and turned to make his back to Lord Dondarrion-

"Ser Arthur, a moment if you please."

-when the Queen asked him to stop. Schooling his face he bowed low. "Your Grace?"

"Do you consider yourself skilled with the blade?" the Queen of the Seven Kingdom asked, her frosty demeanor not unlike Guinevere's.

"I am skilled enough to get by Your Grace," Arthur admitted.

"Then I would consider it a great favor if you defeat Mordred in combat-"

"But Mother that would mea-" The Crown prince had protested but was silence by a single look from his mother.

"-and for it I shall give you a reward of 400,000 dragons."

"Your Grace!" the Lord hand spoke up alarm on his face.

"Do not worry Lord Hand; it will come from Casterly Rock, not the Kingdom." The Queen declared imperiously. Apparently it was enough as the Lord Hand nodded his head and looked relieved.

"Do we have a deal?"

The Queen was looking as him expectantly before he shook his head, shocking the queen. "In battle, no one can guarantee anything. I will try to keep her in mind but I cannot guarantee anything."

"Hmmm, not stupid," the Queen murmured as her green eyes examined him like one. "Most knights would promise anything and I have gotten use to empty promises. Honesty. How refreshing."

"Your Grace?" Arthur asked hoping to be dismissed now.

The Queen smiled thinly as if determining his worth before nodding. "My offer still stands. If you beat her, 400,000 Dragons will be yours along with another prize."

"But Mo-" The crown prince started up again before the Queen silence him with yet another glare. The blond prince could only pout as he shot Arthur a murderous glare.

"You may go," The Queen dismissed with a wave of her hand.

Arthur dipped his head in acknowledgment and retreated.

"Kick their arses!"

"ARYA!"

When he made it back to Beric he saw the man looking at him wide eyed. "You-You spoke to the Queen?"

"She request a boon of me and I told her it was not within my power to grant it," Arthur replied as he saw the officials starting to filter in, looking up the now clear blue sky, he noticed no odd weather pattern like the day before.

"Oh is it anything I can help with?" Beric asked eagerly. The lord of Blackhaven was obviously looking for a way to get in the good graces of their lord liege.

"Apparently, defeat her daughter in combat," Arthur commented as he got into a corner opposite of the princess but closer to Gregor with Beric following. His answered however seemed to knock the wind out of the knight.

"Yeah... that's not going to happen." Beric's shoulders shagged dejectedly even as he and Arthur put on their helms. "She's damn near unbeatable by herself and now the King and his Kingsguard is there with Jaime Lannister, you had a better chance of finding a virgin whore at Lord Baelish brothel."

"MELEE CONTESTANTS! PREPARE YOURSELVES! FOR THE HONOR OF YOUR HOUSE AND KINGDOM!"

The Crier shouted as he looked over to the Queen, who held out a silken handkerchief. There was tangible tension in the arena as Beric and Arthur nodded to each other. Arthur had already unsheathed his bastard blade, and Beric had his sword and shield at the ready.

"Fight well!" the Queen shouted as she tossed the piece of cloth in the air. The fighters waited anxiously for the piece of cloth to hit the ground.

Arthur scanned the crowd behind his helm and stuck close by Bedric as the cloth fluttered one last time in the wind before it landed.

The roar of the fighters rumbled through the arena, even Arthur as he turned to the enemy closest to him and struck him with all his strength sending the man flying a few feet on his back. In the same swinging motion he brought the sword down on another man shoulder biting into his plate.

"I yield!" the Knight with a raven crest on it shouted immediately as Arthur pulled his blade free.

All through the field the sound of metal crashing into metal resounded. The mounted men, thinking they had an advantage were pulled from their horses and beaten until they yielded.

"Come on Ser Arthur!" Beric shouted happily as he smashed his shield into one knight and hammered down with his sword onto the beaten knight over and over again.

Arthur ducked under a flail and stabbed his bastard sword into his attacker's thigh, making him cry out in pain. Pulling it out quickly, he cut the man's other leg forcing him to forfeit as he fought his way to Beric who appeared to be holding his own quite well until three men surrounded him.

Immediately, Arthur charged the first one hitting him with such force he flopped into the mud face first obviously concussed. Without losing his momentum, he spun around and swung at the second attacker, a giant man with an axe to match, who brought the shaft of his weapon into the path of his attack in an attempt to block, only for the force behind the swing cause him to stagger.

Arthur then rammed into the man with his shoulder, knocking him off balance before he put his sword at the man's throat.

"I yield!" the axe wielder shouted quickly before the blade could go through his armor.

Pulling the blade away, Arthur blocked two incoming strikes, flicking the two blades away. It was Lancel Lannister, the jouster from the day before, and another man he didn't recognize. They then both proceeded to attack, forcing him onto the defensive until he had backed up to the railing.

"You're mine!" Lancel shouted as he charged at Arthur with a fast swing.

Arthur, anticipating the move, quickly brought his blade up to redirect the swing while simultaneously grabbing Lancel by the scruff of his neck and using the momentum to toss him out of the arena. Preparing to deal with his second adversary, he turned around, only to see the man on his knees and weapon in the ground with his hands raised.

"I yield!" the red armored Lannister man shouted.

Arthur turned to see Beric, who had finished off his own attackers, begin to move towards him. It was then Thoros of Myr, the red priest, attacked Beric with his flaming blade.

The spectators 'ohh' in awed at seeing a flaming sword, some of the highborn lady even shouting in fright. The red priest of R'hllor was pretty skilled with the blade and many of the fighters around the two gave them a wide berth.

Making his way to his partner, he beat down five more men in his way when he heard a loud cheer erupted form the audience and a name chanted.

"Robert! Robert! Robert! Robert! Robert!"

The king's hammer had struck a horse right on its chest caving it instantly and tossed the Knight of Flower, Loras, off his horse and onto his face. The fat king raised his hammer and roared louder as if challenging anyone to come near him. The kingsguard, to their credit, were dispatching all attackers with ease, letting few stragglers get to the king and the princess.

Suddenly there was a loud gasp as the priest of R'hollor was forcefully removed from the competition by Gregor Clegane whom had barrel into both Beric and Priest. The eight foot giant smashed into the red priest frame and sent his flaming sword into the mud, snuffing it out.

Gregor wielded a sword that was as tall as a man with both hands and stalked up to the red priest, who were trying to get up but was in no condition to yield. The Mountain brought his blade down onto the red priest, intending to behead the man when Beric jumped in front of his attack and took the full brunt of the blow.

The fame knight had been surprised by the interference but looked none too pleased as he let out a loud roar and began to hammer the sword over and over into Beric shield, denting it with each strike caving it inward. Beric was holding onto the shield for dear life as far as Arthur could tell until he sagged limply on top of the red priest body.

"Beric!" a female scream the name full of anguish from the direction of the nobles stand.

Arthur was already making his way to the Mountain, running at full speed. Gregor had kicked the shield away and expose Beric as he raised his sword to finish the job.

"Gregor!" Arthur shouted making the Mountain freeze to see who dared challenge him as he jumped behind the Mountain's back and grabbing his neck ring. Using the momentum of the run he was able to twist the Mountain away from Beric and sent him flat on his face.

Immediately Gregor's two companions, wearing the symbol of House Clegane, the three black dogs, attacked Arthur. Arthur however, had no patience for the two and in two swift motions, cut the sword arms off of the Mountain's two retainers, the two men falling to their knees, clutching their open wounds screaming in pain.

"S-Ser Arthur?"

Arthur turned around to see Beric arm's limp by his side, most likely broken.

"You need to yield. Now."

"R-right, my gratitude, Ser Arthur." Beric nodded as he declared his forfeiture. The red priest, Thoros, unable to get up also was taken from the field.

"You back stabbing bitch!" the King roar in outrage a distance away. "We were winning!"

"Goodbye father~" the Princess gleefully answered the king's in a saccharine tone.

Anything else was not his concern as the Mountain got back up to his feet and ripped off his helm, his eyes blood shot with rage.

Grabbing his sword, the Mountain of a man stood to his impressive height, snorting through his nose like a bull.

Arthur followed suit, taking off his helm and tossing it to the side, making eye contact with the giant.

"You shouldn't have interfered. Now I will destroy that pretty face of yours," the Mountain rumbled menacingly lifting up his large broadsword.

"And you will answer for your crimes today, Gregor Clegane," Arthur replied firmly.

"Crime?" Gregor scoff, sounding almost amused. "Which one?"

Arthur eyes swung his sword experimentally and looked at the Mountain. "The rape of Elia Martell Targaryen and the murder of her two children; Aegon and Rhaenys."

Gregor looked confused a bit before he started to laugh out loud. "Ah, is this WHAT this is all about?! Do you think you are the first? What are you some Dorne assassin, those cunts down at Sunspear don't have the guts to come after me like a real man?"

"They wanted too," Arthur replied evenly, barely aware that the field was now silent, the spectators looking on. "But I asked them for the honor of killing you, unless you would like to yield, tuck your head between your tail and run like the dog you are."

Gregor growled at the insult, his blood lust starting up in full force again. "If you are not working for those Dornish cunts, then who the fuck you are, why do you care about the Martell bitch and her fucking spawn?"

Arthur raised his sword arm up and got into stance. "I care because that was my goodsister, my niece and nephew you butchered."

Gregor eyes appeared confused before his eyes widen and he stared. "You can't mean to tell me that you are-"

"I was born Viserys Targaryen, and I am here to be your executioner," Arthur replied in a calm tone, he ignored the gasped and heard the sound of blades being drawn.

"Sheath your swords! Now!" Princess Mordred authoritative voice could be heard through the silence. Moments later sword being slide back into their scabbards could be heard.

"Gregor Clegane, for your crimes of raping Princess Elia Martell Targaryen and murdering her children afterward, I hereby sentence you to death."

"You got it wrong dragon spawn," Gregor laughed as he looked at Arthur directly into his eyes. "I actually bashed her children head in front of the bitch first THEN I raped her!"

And without any warning but a roar, the Mountain charged and swung his sword with the full might of his strength.

Arthur heard the pride in Gregor voice and growled as he too charged and swung his sword to meet that of Gregor's. There was ten different ways he could have killed the Mountain, he only needed one.

CLANG!

The Mountain face echo his surprised as his arm was jarred from the impact.

"Impossible!"

The Mountain swung down his sword once more, only to have the shock from the clash travel up his arm.

"No! How can a dragon shit like you be stronger than me?!" Gregor shouted in disbelief.

The two traded brute strength blows as the two heavy sword rang out loudly and sparked as they came together violently. To to all amazement, it was the Mountain who recoiled unsteadily each time from the exchange. As if proving himself superior and faster than Gregor could recover, Arthur pulled his sword back and struck out again, severing the Mountain hand from his wrist.

"Argggh! My hand you fucker!" Gregor cried looking at his stump in disbelief.

"That was for killing Aegon," Arthur calmly stated and then lashed out once more and cut Gregor's other hand, making the man scream in pain as he sank to his knees looking at the two bleeding stumps where his hands use to be. "And that was for sweet Rhaenys."

For the first time, Gregor looked fearful since their fight began, he then look down to see Arthur's sword pointing towards his crotch. "No... please..."

With a strong push, his sword slid slowly into the Mountain's crotch gelding as him. The Mountain let out a high pitch scream as he was unmanned.

"And that was for Elia," Arthur informed the Mountain who was trying to cover his bleeding crotch with his bloodied stumps. In one smooth motion, he kicked the Mountain chest and made him fall onto his back.

Walking imperiously on the Mountain's body, he made eye contact with the giant. Taking his sword, he rested the tip of his blade on the Mountains neck.

"Elia, Rhaenys, Ageon, rest in peace, I now send your murderer to the Seven Hells," Arthur recited the words clearly for all to hear as he continued to stare in the eyes of the Mountain which was now laced with fear.

Easing onto the blade, he saw the Mountain struggle as the blade sank into his throat as blood bubbled out from his mouth. Gregor Clegane gave one final shudder of his massive body before he became still.

Suddenly there was a clap; it started at the noble stands before spreading to the small folk. Not caring but wanting to finish the job, he flicked his wrist and separated the Mountain's head from his shoulders. Grabbing the Mountain head, he looked over to his personal bodyguard that was near the railings and tossed the head to him.

His bodyguards were to take the Mountain's head to Prince Doran as fast as possible. The people were still too stunned and the tourney made the outer area of the city lightly defended. Looking back up, he saw Prince Oberyn and his mistress standing on their feet clapping.

He turned to where Sansa was and saw her embracing Arya's head into her bosom, the look the red head gave him was one of approval. Surprisingly enough, Lord Eddard Stark was also looking at him in approval.

"Arrest that Dragon Spawn!" Robert bellow loudly as the guards started to move in formation.

Arthur grimace as he prepared to fight his way out. He saw Prince Oberyn escort closing in on the Gold Cloaks to run interference for him.

"Stand down!" Mordred shouted making the Gold cloak hesitate and look to their king who was looking angry but not at them but at his daughter.

"You dare go against me on this girl?! Do you know what th-"

"Oh maiden tits!" Princess Mordred shouted as she pointed over Arthur. "I don't give a shit if he's the Night King himself. This Melee contest is not over yet."

Robert face redden even more. "You want to talk about Melee when there could be an upris-"

"Does that look like someone that is going to lead a rebellion to reclaim his lost land?!" Mordred shouted as she pointed to Arthur in disbelief. "He is here alone and armed with only a sword. We could kill him a hundred different ways if we wanted too. It would be foolish for him to not show up here with an army that could actually challenge you."

"And what would you know about sedition?!" Robert shouted back glaring at his daughter who, to Arthur's surprise, began to shift uncomfortably.

"Look," Mordred began before she looked over at Arthur and narrowed her eyes at the other knights still in the Melee. "No one leaves!"

The other contestant froze in place not sure how to take this new awkward revelation.

Arthur watched as the princess rushed over to her father and started talking quickly while pointing to him, then at the rest of the contestant. He watched Robert's face change from rage to sullen to contemplative.

Finally, to his surprise, Robert beckoned him over to the dais, he could see the Kingsguard looking at him warily as are the gold cloaks. He could see Oberyn face look worry, but a short curt nod made Oberyn remain in his seat.

Robert stared down at Arthur, who returned the gaze unflinchingly.

"Oh come on, enough of this male posturing, just talk already!" Mordred exasperatedly chimed in looking at her father.

"You know, when I killed your brother he looked very surprised as if he couldn't believe that he'd be killed," Robert began still staring down at him before he lifted up his war mace. "This was that very same warhammer I used at the Trident to cave his chest in, and then to make sure, I bashed it in over and over again until the river was ran red with his blood."

There was an audible gasp and even the Queen looked a bit ill. Robert eyes however never left Arthur's face.

"As far as I am concerned," Arthur spoke up slowly looking at Robert. "Rhaegar got exactly what he deserved."

Robert's eyes, which had been glaring at him, widened in surprised. Arthur could feel a lot of eyes on him, most insistent was those of Lord Eddard Stark and two of the Kingsguard.

"You really expect me to believe that?" Robert asked in surprised. "He was your family, your kin!"

"He was filled with lust over a woman, set his own wife aside, abandoned his kingdom, and then left my goodsister and other family members to die with but a single Kingsguard to guard them," Arthur replied flatly, still maintaining eye contact with Robert. "He was no kin of mine when he caused my family's downfall and kept my sister and I on the run from your assassins. I spit on Rhaegar's name."

Robert frowned at that. "I never sent assassins after you. In fact, after your lot disappeared altogether, I thought you were dead somewhere."

This time it was Arthur's turn to be shocked, having searched Robert for any falsehood and finding none.

"Truly?"

"On my King's Honor," Robert declared fiercely. "Don't get me wrong, I wanted too, but when no words of you or your sister came after years. I assumed you two died in a ditch somewhere."

"No, we did not," Arthur replied musing now on who could have sent assassins after him and his sister.

"So do you have dreams of the throne boy?" Robert asked suddenly looking at Arthur. "Want this crown off my head?"

"No," Arthur replied immediately looking at the crown. "My family forfeited all rights to the crown when they became Tyrant and put their will over that of the people."

The only sound that he could hear now was the soft breathing around him. The Hand was looking at him something to surprise while Robert and Mordred appeared shocked by his answer.

"You... willingly admit that?" Robert asked, his face only showing trace amount of confusion. "You call your own family Tyrants Viserys?"

Arthur could feel all eyes on him again and replied with conviction, never breaking eye contact with Robert. "A Just rule with, with Just laws, those were the duties my family was responsible for, they failed, is it a wonder then why the people rose up against them?"

Robert appeared stunned once more by his answer. "But, they are your family... you were once in power, anyone would trade their very souls for such a life, to wield such power."

"The only family I have and care about now-" Arthur began slowly. "-is my sister. So long as she is safe, I am content with just living out the rest of my days in Essos."

Robert fell silent after that, his face still searching Arthur's.

"You really mean that don't you," Robert asked in genuine amazement.

"What good is gaining me a kingdom that hates my family anyway?" Arthur asked sensibly. "The Vale would never forget what my farther done; the Stormlands would never forgive what my brother has done. The North will always remember what they lost to my family. Then there is Tywin and the Lannisters, hardly reliable."

"Hey!" Mordred spoke up but Robert gave her a look that made her take on a sheepish expression. "Well... they're family..."

The Queen pressed her lips tighter together but said nothing.

"The Targaryen era is over," Arthur stated firmly, his statement sending shock wave through the stands. "My sister and I renounced all claims to the throne if that help alleviate any of your... concerns."

"You must have known it was suicide to come here today in front of so many of your enemies," Robert spoke up again giving Arthur an unreadable look.

"I was honor bound to," Arthur answered still maintain eye contact. "This is the only time Gregor Clegane would have been out in the open. I had to avenge Elia and the children."

There was a brief flash of shame across Robert's face before he drew himself back up to his full height. "Well then Viserys-"

"Arthur," Arthur corrected looking at the confused man. "I have discarded the name Viserys a long time ago. Arthur is my name now."

"Arthur? Truly? Not after Arthur Dayne?" Robert asked in a genuinely curious tone.

"No," Arthur replied harshly making Robert and Mordred blink.

"You don't like him either do you," Robert inquired as he searched Arthur's face.

"Because of my respect for the Dayne family, I will not speak ill of their dead, but Arthur is my name. I have worn it for most of my life since I fled Westeros. It is who I am."

Robert then turned to look the Lord Hand. "What do I do Ned? Here is the last dragon son that could be a threat to my throne. What does my Hand suggest?"

Arthur noticed that Arya was looking at him wide eye but also looking at her father with a pleading expression. Sansa looked sadly at him but also look to her father.

"I think the Prince-"

"Former, I have no kingdom to be a prince of," Arthur corrected the Hand and saw the man's startled expression.

Some type of expression passed through his face before he nodded as if coming to a conclusion. "Then, I think Arthur here, the last of the Targaryens, is an honorable man and therefore speaks the truth. You know how I felt about what Gregor did, what a stain it was on your rule. He came here all this way, out of hiding from the safety of his home, where ever that may be, to avenge his goodsister, his niece and nephew. He said he is not here to incite rebellion, and I believe him."

Robert looked on as his Lord Hand fell silent and looked to his daughter who merely looked on expectantly. Finally he looked up to the sky then back down to Arthur.

"As hard as it is to believe, I do believe you," Robert spoke up finally after a long pause.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Arthur allowed himself a small smile and was thankful that he would not have to fight his way out of King's Landing.

"Bring me some bread and salt!" Robert bellowed as he stood up. A few moments later, a servant scramble with a plate of bread with some salt on in a small bow. With a turn of his head he directed the servant to Arthur.

There was a loud gasp from the crowd at the significance of the gesture. Robert was offering him, a Targaryen, his most hated enemy, Guest Rights. To swear to the very gods that he would never be harmed under by Robert under his roof, in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

"You are not what I expected," Arthur said meaningfully as he took the bread, dipped it in the salt and ate the piece in front of the King.

"Aye, and neither are you what I expected," Robert rebutted before he sat back down on the chair. "You are free to leave."

"He can't!" Mordred cried out in alarm. "The Melee competition is not over, not until I beat him. Come on, you know you want to see a Baratheon battle a Targaryen again."

Robert actually looked interested in the proposition as he looked appraising at his daughter. Arthur however, would not overstay his welcome.

"No need Princess, as much as it would displease Lady Arya, I will forfeit, the victory is yours."

Mordred look gobsmacked as Robert shrugged and Cersei sighed. Surely she couldn't still have hoped for him to fight her daughter knowing his true identity. Oberyn looked relieved and even gave him a small wink.

With a polite bow, he turned around and made to leave the area.

"Like hell you are!" Princess Mordred growled as he heard her pulled her blade and attacked. Responding quickly, he blocked her first strike expertly but was amazed at the sheer strength behind it. Then faster than he anticipated, she slashed at his side. He immediately brought his blade down to block, but she did a quick turned and hammer the blade into his other side, only narrowly being blocked by a hasty movement.

The two exchanged a flurry of blows, the sound of their steel clashing filling the stadium before he locked her blade on his and pushed her away.

Once more there was stunned silence at the skilled that was just displayed. Robert, who had been just as shocked as everyone else, cleared his head first.

"You know," Robert focused on Arthur while drumming his fingers on his chair. "I think I would like to see this fight after all."

Crown Prince Joffrey, however, looked panicked and look to his father. "But what if he wi-"

Anything else the crown prince wanted to saw was silence with a look from the king. He then turned his attention to Arthur.

"You know, you should finish this competition. You came this far." Robert spoke up surprising everyone else, but there was a strange glint in his eyes as they darted back and forth between the two fighters.

Mordred glared at the King for a moment for pointing two fingers to her eyes and motion toward Robert. She then got into a ready stance and grinned at Arthur.

"Ready to re-enact the Battle of the Trident Ser Arthur?" Mordred asked cheekily, her eyes portraying her certainty in her victory. Something in her looks irked him, was he not Arturia king of Britannia at one time? There was no pride as a Targaryen anymore but as Arthur and a Pendragon? Yes there was!

"There is only one notable difference if we are to re-enact that duel," Arthur got into a ready stance with his blade.

"Oh?" Mordred began to rotate her wrist moving her swords in lazy motion. "And what would that be?"

"I'm not Rhaegar." With that he rushed to meet the princess on the battlefield.

TBC!

UpNext: Battle of the Trident 2!

AN: We Riding High now... And nuts and bolts are so lose it's not even funny. Quick, someone come and tighten this as I make a pit stop!

First a big thank you to Cheeser, the only editor on this fic. He work hard so you guys don't have to! Second is UN and Icura who let me bounce ideas back and forth as sounding boards. Third, to everyone that put in a nice fat review, those observation were awesome and made me think.

I can't believe I am saying this but ever heard of the expression, a story writes itself? I started this with a three basic idea. Fate Stay night characters mythos + Westeros world with a dash of magic cement by humor. Somehow... Someway. I now have a true outline for a story... THere is an endgame, a true goal so to speak... and I am surprise it presented itself to me. Before I started I would have never seen that but... yeah. New outland and well, lots more...Westeros and FSN crossing over.

So what is up with that thing with Sansa-Shirou? I will say there will be no blatant use of magic like FSN series. So no PEW PEW LASZERS BLAST! Magic out the wahzu. There instead will be inspired magic of FSN made to fit in westeros world.

I can show you my secret Excerpt of what would happen if I gave everyone their ability in Westeros:

Saber: Excalibur!

Westeros royals are in awe, bend knee to Saber.

Saber: Hail to the King.

Saber Steam Rolls everything, Why? Because it's fucking Saber with Excaliblast! Or Sub Saber for Archer who just UBW everything into submission.

The End.

It would be a very short fic. Less then 500 words I should say. It's just not in me to do it.

So yeah, hope you guys enjoy this fic for what it is, I have been told my writing is subpar or barely passable. I appreciate those feedbacks too! After all like I always say.

C+C (Comment and Criticism) are welcome, Reviews are appreciated.