fics I read

299 AC, Shipwrecker Bay, with Stannis…

When Stannis had been awoken from his slumber, he thought it would be due to good news. And that such good news would be of the Targaryen king's death. So he was disappointed and quite frankly baffled when instead he was informed that the Targaryens were launching an attack on Renly's camp.

"What did you just say?" Stannis's face was contorted in utter disbelief.

Ser Davos understood his liege's shock, he had been quite surprised at the news as well. "The Targaryens are attacking Renly's camp." He repeated.

"But the Targaryen king should be dead and his army should be surrendering." Stannis gritted out.

"I didn't receive any news about that, your grace. The only report given was about the movement of the Targaryen army. They've trapped Renly between two forces." Ser Davos told the self-proclaimed king.

As Ser Davos spoke Stannis's brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He had only been awake for a few moments and his mood was already beginning to sour. The spell Melisandre casted should have worked. In the short time that Stannis had her in his employ, the red priestess had never failed him. Her magic was absolute, he had seen it for himself.

"Where is Melisandre?" Stannis asked Ser Davos, already on his feet and quickly adorning his armor.

Ser Davos motioned upward. "On the deck. She looked just as confused as you, my king." He said with amusement.

It was no secret that Ser Davos disliked the red priestess. To him, her magic was something unnatural and dark. A power that no mortal should possess.

Stannis left the cabin, Ser Davos hot on his heels. Most of the ship's crew was up. They all gaped at the distant plumes of smoke that were rising into the night sky. It was coming from the direction of Renly's camp. War cries, clashing swords and the noise of what sounded like elephants could be heard. The battle had long since gone underway.

As Ser Davos had told him, Melisandre stood at the front of the ship. She peered at the grey stone walls of Storm's End with a peculiar look on her face.

Stannis wasted no time on petty greetings as he stormed to her side. "Why isn't Perseus Targaryen dead?" He demanded.

A flash of annoyance appeared on the priestess's face before it disappeared as quickly as it came. "I do not know. My spell was casted perfectly." Melisandre tells Stannis.

"So how is the Targaryen not dead?" Stannis repeated with a deep scowl.

Her teeming annoyance couldn't be hidden any longer. "I told you, I don't know!" Melisandre hissed back.

Stannis clicked his tongue at her lack of information. She was the one with magic and the almighty Lord of Light. If anyone had the answers to his questions it should be her. There was no use mulling over that now though. He needed to figure out his move. But first he needed to figure out just how the current events had come to pass.

If the Targaryens had been trying to get a large portion of their army behind Renly by land then someone would have noticed them. One simply couldn't move ten thousand men without anyone being the wiser. So that meant the Targaryens used their ships to place their men behind Renly before Stannis had arrived to blockade the bay. Such a plan was risky but feasible. Odds were they had completely avoided Evenhall since the house that inhabited the island, House Tarly, would have surely reported the movement of enemy ships. From there the army would have landed south possibly near Bronzegate which wasn't a very long march from Storm's End. It was smooth sailing at that point, they would have effectively sandwiched Renly's forces.

Stannis couldn't help but wonder if this was the reason the Targaryen boy had killed Robert's bastard. It definitely made Renly angry enough to stay long enough for him to be caught up in the boy's surprise attack. He had to admit that he was grudgingly impressed that the Targaryens had managed to pull off such a feat. He was also very worried. The thought of a Targaryen was already troubling but the thought of a smart Targaryen was downright terrifying. He potentially had another Aegon the Conqueror on his hands.

Now that he had some semblance of what had occurred, Stannis could make a decision that would benefit him the most. He could simply ready his own army in order to defeat the Targaryens who would no doubt be the victors of the current battle. They would be weakened considerably depending on how hard Renly's army fought back. It was the most obvious and ideal plan of action. But Stannis hadn't survived through two wars by picking the most obvious plan.

If the Targaryens had planned to surprise and battle an army of twenty thousand men, then it wouldn't be too far-fetched to say that they would be prepared to face Stannis's mere six thousand men. He could potentially be walking right into a trap. In times like this he usually consulted Melisandre on the path to victory. Sadly he doubted that she would be of any help since her magic was experiencing problems.

With that in mind, Stannis knew the course of action he would take. It was the safest choice he could currently make. "We sail back to Dragonstone. Let the Targaryens finish off my foolish brother." Stannis decided.

Maybe the remnants of his brother's army would even join him after the battle. Surely the thought of getting revenge on the Targaryens would rally the Stormland lord's to his cause. So for now Stannis would retreat. But he would be ready to face off against the Targaryens next time. They may have had some tricks up their sleeves but Stannis was a grizzled war veteran and the Targaryens were being led by a mere boy.

And what did a boy know about war?

oOo

Renly's Camp, with Tristan…

Tristan stood over the cold corpse of Renly Baratheon, silently musing on how the king had ended up dead. There didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle nor were there any visible wounds on Renly's body. He was simply dead, his glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Now that he was now closer, Tristan could make out the fresh tears on the deadman's face. Though they hadn't come from Renly, his eyes were too dry. Perhaps a whore had seen the king dead but didn't think to inform anyone about it. It would be an understandable course of action. A measly whore would have to go out and tell everyone that the king had just up and died. It wouldn't take much for the men to assume that she had been the one to do it. She'd have been hung quicker than a Tyroshi runaway slave.

It was still annoying that the woman hadn't thought to tell anyone though. With Renly already dead, there was no real reason to continue fighting. He may have liked a good fight but he didn't like to see his men die needlessly.

Just as Tristan was about to sheath his sword, his danger senses flared. Instincts gained from years of being in countless life threatening situations told him that he was in mortal danger. He whirled around, his sword in motion. And it was a good thing that he did because his sword suddenly clashed against another blade that had fully intended to lop off his head.

The strength from the enemy's swing made his jaw clench but he held strong as he took in the features of his attacker. His opponent was a wavy brown haired man with bright brown eyes. He was dressed in intricate, shiny silver armor that was obviously made for an important knight. But what Tristan noted more than his attackers attire was the sheer amount of rage that was blazing in the knight's eyes. It made him instinctively want to get away from the man.

Grunting, Tristan pushed back against the knight. Even using all of his strength, he was only able to make the knight stumble back slightly. Just that short power struggle had taken a decent amount of energy out of him. He admittedly needed some time to catch his breath. Sadly his opponent would give him none as the knight rushed him like a mad bull.

Deflecting a wild slash, Tristan stabbed at the man's leg but ultimately missed. He was forced to duck under a retaliated sword slash that was aimed towards his head. His opponent fought with so much ferocity that Tristan couldn't help but feel like he was fighting Viserys again. Only this time his opponent was actually trying to kill him.

Tristan sidestepped a downward slash that split a chair in two before he quickly parried another strike. The fight quickly turned into a deadly storm of blades as both fighters slashed and hacked at each other. Both of them wanted to end the other's life so there was no holding back. But after the first few exchanges, it was quite obvious who was winning the fight.

It didn't matter how calm and collected Tristan stayed, he simply couldn't find a set pattern to his opponent's fighting style. And that was mainly due to the knight not currently using one. The man's rage was making his attacks completely unpredictable. A battle of endurance was also out of the question. He couldn't stay on the defensive forever. Blocking the knight's brutal swings were already starting to make his arms ache. To make matters worse, his opponent was just as skilled as him. No, this knight was even better than him.

An uneasy feeling formed Tristan's gut as he parried another strike. The force behind the strike made his brain rattle in his skull. This was not like fighting a regular knight. Even though their fight had been short, the yellow knight he had fought not long ago was nothing compared to the person he faced now. And he doubted cheap tricks would work on his current opponent.

The knight in front of him was in an entirely different league. Tristan had made the right decision when he told Duncan and the other to stay outside. If anyone other than him had entered the tent, they'd have died in seconds. But now he was stuck fighting against an opponent who was far more skilled than himself. And he could feel his body reaching its limit. He couldn't take more of the man's relentless assault for much longer. Sadly there weren't many choices left. He very much doubted the man would listen to reason. The knight fought like he had a personal vendetta against him.

Panic slowly began to ensue as Tristan hurriedly backstepped another slash that would have split him in two. Only a moment of rest was given to him before the knight continued his assault. A flurry of powerful and precise strikes made Tristan's knees buckle as he tried his hardest not to crumble under pressure.

He was quickly beginning to regret seeking out Renly. If he had known that such a skilled knight would be anywhere near the king, he may have just left the job to someone else. As much as it hurt his pride to think about it, if he had waited for Viserys or Perseus to join him, he was positive they could defeat this knight together. Alas, help didn't seem to be coming anytime soon. Duncan and the others were still probably holding off the men outside.

Tristan blocked another slash, locking blades with the knight as they entered another power struggle. And for the first time since their fight had started, the knight suddenly spoke. "Do you really think you can beat me?" The knight growled, pressing forward with all his strength.

Tristan was forced to take a step back, his strength beginning to wane. Even so, his tongue was still as sharp as ever. "You have yet to land a decisive blow." He gritted out.

"Is that so?" The knight sneered before making Tristan swallow his own words when the knight gave a hard headbutt to his face.

The blow made him stagger back, tripping on an unknown object along the way. He crashed into a desk making him lose grip of his sword. His vision blurred as he tried to blink out the white spots in his eyes. The headbutt had no doubt broken his nose, he could feel the blood running down to his chin.

A warcry alerted Tristan to the danger coming his way as the knight rushed forward, sword raised, to deliver a powerful downward slash. By the skin of his teeth, Tristan managed to roll onto his side allowing the blade to strike the remnants of the splintered desk. Twisting his body back around, he lashed out to kick the knight on the side of his head. It proved to be effective as the knight staggered back from the blow. Before his advantage could be lost, he quickly got to his feet and tackled his opponent making the knight's sword slip out of his grip.

They entered a struggle on the ground. Punches, kicks, and elbows were thrown as they rolled and wrestled around the tent. Knowing his opponent was stronger than him and that a ground fight would get him nowhere, Tristan stood to his feet to try and retrieve his sword. Before he could get far though, the knight latched onto his back. Arms wrapped around his neck and immediately began squeezing. He pulled and tried to wrench the knight's arms off of him but it was hopeless. He could feel the air slowly being squeezed out of him. The corners of his vision began to darken.

And just when he felt his consciousness slipping, the tent's entrance opened and a soldier ducked inside. Relief flooded Tristan when he recognized the gold and black leather armor the Unsullied wore. Only for his relief to turn to confusion and then dread as he noticed the soldier's feminine form. The long silver hair that flowed out from under the spiked helmet confirmed his fears.

Surprised at the new occupant, the knight's chokehold loosened just a bit. Tristan quickly used the opportunity to bash the back of his head against the knight's face, breaking away from him before dashing toward the soldier, picking up his sword along the way.

"What in the hell are you doing here Daenerys!" Tristan said as he stood protectively in front of the princess.

The knight quickly regained himself before he too snatched up his sword to slowly stalk toward them. "I was worried about you." Daenerys told him.

She had a bastard sword drawn but it was obvious she didn't know how to use it. As for her reason for being there, Tristan didn't know whether to reprimand her for making such a stupid decision or feel complimented. None of his past lovers had ever willingly walked into a battle because they were worried about his safety. If he were any less than the man he was, he would be tearing up at the gesture. But now wasn't the time to think about that.

The knight drew closer. "Is that the princess Daenerys?" He laughed mockingly.

Tristan wasn't gullible enough to think that he had a chance against the knight. He hadn't been winning before and he doubted that he'd win now. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try his hardest. It wasn't just his life that was now on the line. As he steeled himself in preparation of what would most likely be his last battle, a person suddenly appeared behind the knight.

Their shocked expressions must have been pretty authentic because the knight actually turned to look behind him. It was too late however, as the person ruthlessly bashed their fist into the knight's head. He dropped like a sack of flour, his sword falling to his side with a clang. The sound laboured breathing was the only thing that signified that he was still alive, just unconscious.

Now that Tristan was able to clearly see the person who had saved him and Daenerys, the appreciation that had been on the tip of his tongue was immediately replaced with the bitter taste of dread.

Because standing in front of them, with a very unhappy look on his face, was none other than Perseus Targaryen.

oOo

Earlier, with Percy…

Watching Ser Loras sob over Renly's corpse was a very uncomfortable experience for Percy. Especially since he had been the one to kill the king.

That wasn't to say that he regretted his actions. The Stag King had made it quite clear that he wanted Percy and his family dead. But he still couldn't stop that feeling of guilt inside of him as he stared at the depressing scene of Ser Loras crying over the corpse of his dead lover.

Thankfully and eventually, the knight's tears dried up and anger quickly replaced his sadness. Percy watched on as Ser Loras began adorning his silver armor. He no doubt intended to release some of his anger by participating in the ongoing battle. Outside, yells and the sound of violent clashes could be heard.

Slowly, Ser Loras peeked through the tent's entrance. There must have been men fighting pretty close to the tent as the Knight of Flowers visibly became tense. The sound of a man's panicked screams rang out before it abruptly ended. It wasn't too hard to guess that the man was probably dead.

Ser Loras crept off to hide behind a couple of stacked crates with his sword drawn at his side. No doubt in preparation for ambushing whoever entered the tent. Whoever the person was wouldn't find any help from Percy as he wouldn't be warning them anytime soon, lest he made his presence known.

The tent entrance flapped open and a soldier dressed in telltale golden armor walked inside. Annoyance prickled inside of Percy as he instantly recognized the newcomer. Of all the people that had to show up, it just had to be Tristan Waters. He didn't have to debate on why the boy was so deep into enemy camp. The cocky bastard had probably wanted to kill Renly himself in order to gain some kind of fame.

Percy took enjoyment in the disappointed look on Tristan's face as he realized that someone had already beaten him to his goal. As the commander stood over Renly's corpse, Ser Loras slowly crept out from his hiding place.

Seemingly oblivious to the danger he was in, Tristan continued to look at Renly as Ser Loras stealthily approached. Percy knew that he couldn't just let one of his commanders die. Even if the bastard was a pain in the ass, he was a skilled fighter that could prove to be useful later on. Though that didn't stop Percy from thinking about the benefits of just letting the boy die.

The main boon being that Daenerys would no longer be distracted. She wouldn't even think to blame him either. No one knew about his ability to shadow travel yet. And she understood that war could be deadly and unpredictable. Even the most skilled knight could fall to a squire by mere chance.

Unbeknownst to Percy, his inner turmoil made him forget all about the current danger Tristan was in. Thankfully his lack of focus wasn't punished as just when Ser Loras swung his sword to cut down Tristan, the commander almost instinctively spun around and met Ser Loras's blade.

The sound of the clanging metal brought back Percy's attention and he quickly realized his error. Guilt flooded him as the two fighters became locked in a deadly dance of combat. Too caught up in his own thoughts, he would have unknowingly allowed Tristan to die. Lapses in focus couldn't be made, especially during such crucial times. This time nothing bad came of it but if it happened again, who knows what might occur. It could have been Viserys or Daenerys in Tristan's place.

Though now that the immediate danger had past, Percy couldn't help but admire the raging battle happening before him. Sparks flew as the two skilled warriors clashed head to head. To the eyes of a commoner, it would look as if they were both equally matched. But he knew that Tristan was slowly losing ground.

Ser Loras was admittedly a very skilled fighter. If Percy had to place him somewhere, he'd put him right next to Viserys. Tristan had fought a semi-serious Viserys. One that had been trying sure but he had still been holding back considerably. Spars were, in all intents and purposes, meaningless as they could never truly show a person's skill with a blade. Even Percy's own spar with Grey Worm meant nothing. Because if he had wanted to, he could have killed Grey Worm the moment the Unsullied lost his spear.

Now Tristan was facing a skilled opponent who wanted nothing more than to separate his head from his shoulders. And as the fight went on, Percy could see that the young commander was slowly realizing this because fear began to show in his eyes.

The fight reached its end when Tristan was head butted into the ground. In a last ditch effort, Tristan kicked Ser Loras and tackled him to the ground where they rolled around.

Fists fighting was usually useless against a stronger opponent and it was obvious that Ser Loras held more strength. Tristan also seemed to know this as after sending out another hook he scrambled to retrieve his fallen sword. Unfortunately Ser Loras wasn't as incapacitated as Tristan had believed. The knight pounced on the commander, wrapping his arms around the boy's neck to put him into a chokehold.

It was obvious by the pitiful slaps and arm pulls that Tristan didn't have a clue on how to get out of his current situation so Percy readied himself to help.

But lo and behold, his movements were faltered for the second time as someone else suddenly barged into the tent. He didn't need to be a child of Athena to know just who the person in the armor was. The flowing mane of silver hair was a dead giveaway. That however didn't stop the electrifying shock that spread through Percy at the sight of Daenerys being in the middle of a literal battlefield.

Questions of why she was here didn't need to be asked. She knew that he and Viserys could handle themselves in a fight so she had obviously come because of Tristan. Why she felt the idiotic need to run directly into an battleground to do so, Percy would never know or understand.

He had thought that he made his point quite clear. Daenerys was to never be allowed anywhere near the battlefield. Viserys knew this, so why in the Hades didn't he make sure that Daenerys had stayed behind?

For no more than an hour Percy had left his uncle in charge and already Daenerys was roaming around a battlefield like a lost baby deer. It was no longer a debate of whether he should reveal himself or not. He'd promote his powers to the entire world before he let Dany get hurt.

He was behind the knight in seconds and with a hard hook, Ser Loras was forcibly put to sleep. While he had the urge to simply kill the knight, it would be more beneficial to keep him alive. Questions of how he had been knocked out would no doubt plague the knight's mind but Percy would just have to deal with that later.

A frustrated sigh came from his mouth as he slowly approached the duo. "I don't really need to ask, but why are you here and not inside of the castle?" Percy asked Daenerys.

She had the audacity to look guilty. "V-Viserys let me come." She didn't even look like she believed her own lie.

"Do you think I'm stupid? And take off that fucking helmet." Percy snapped, making Daenerys quickly toss the helmet onto the floor.

Once again the tent's entrance opened and Viserys entered, leading a group of men. Percy could make out Duncan amongst the group but he didn't know the names of the others.

Viserys's eyes went Daenerys and Tristan, to the unconscious Ser Loras and finally to the angry looking Percy. "Perseus I-." He was cut off with an irritated gesture.

Percy chose to first address the group behind him. "Stay here and protect the princess. Make sure this man doesn't escape either, he's our prisoner." He added, motioning to the unconscious Ser Loras.

The men simply nodded as they all either took defensive positions by the tent entrance or went to secure the Knight of Flowers. "We'll be talking about this later." Percy firmly told Daenerys who mutely nodded.

With an irritated look thrown at Tristan, Percy began making his way to the tent entrance. Though he stopped when Viserys saddled up to his side. "What are you doing?" Percy looked at him peculiarly.

Viserys blinked. "I'm going out to fight with you." He replied slowly.

An incredulous look appeared on Percy's face. "And I guess the dragons of old are just going to swoop down to keep Daenerys safe." His voice was thick with sarcasm.

"There's already men protecting Daenerys, including Tristan." It was the prince's poor decision to put the words 'Tristan', 'protect' and 'Daenerys' in the same sentence that made the already angered Percy snap.

Percy's hand latched onto Viserys's chest plate, effortlessly bringing the older Targaryen to his face even though the slightly taller Viserys looked down at him. "I'm already pissed that you didn't stop her from coming here, so don't fucking push me. You will stay here and make sure she is safe, is that understood?" He raged.

In an almost ironic choice of action, Viserys roughly pushed Percy back. Though the younger Targaryen was only slightly moved. The surrounding men, Tristan and Daenerys looked on nervously as they glared at each other with neither of the two backing down.

After a long and intense moment, where one could almost feel the heat of both Targaryen's fiery wills, Viserys begrudgingly conceded to Percy's order.

"As you wish, my king." Viserys sneered before turning heel to go off to a random section of the tent.

A deep frown formed on Percy's brow as he stared at his uncle's back. He truly didn't mean to snap at Viserys. It was just the fact that they were currently surrounded by an army of men who wanted nothing more than to take off Daenerys's head that made him react in the manner that he did. His ever present paranoia when it came to the safety of his family was at an all-time high. Still, he shouldn't have taken out his anger and fears on Viserys.

Silently vowing to apologize after the battle was over, Percy swiftly exited the tent. He was promptly exposed to the scenery of battle and death. It wasn't a sight that was particularly new to him. And as bad as it may sound, he almost felt at home being amidst the chaos that was war.

Drawing his sword, Percy began advancing towards the nearest enemy. No regrets were had as he brutally cut down his first victim. There was a battle to end and he intended to do just that.

oOo

Elsewhere in King's Landing…

Meanwhile in the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, the tension between nobles and smallfolk were at an all time high.

News of the Targaryen invasion, Renly Baratheon's slow and steady march toward Kong's Landing, and the battles between Robb Stark and Tywin Lannister had long since reached the ears of the capital. They were well aware of the war currently being fought.

Most of the general population didn't really care what lord was fighting against the other. Every king or nobleman was the same to them. As long as their bellies were full and the whore houses remained open, they could care less who sat on the iron throne. Unfortunately, the current throne holder seemed to take pleasure in not doing either of those things.

Their current king was just a cruel boy who cared little for actually ruling his kingdom and only enjoyed seeing them being tormented. As one might guess, this way of ruling did nothing but incite the starving smallfolk of King's Landing. The tension in the air was so thick one could cut it with a knife. It was only a matter of time before that last struggling thread of civil order snapped.

"Make way for the king!"

After a tourney in celebration of King Joffrey's 'joyous' reign, the king's royal party could be seen making their way back to the Red Keep through the shit-filled streets of Flea Bottom.

"I hate coming through here and seeing all these filthy people." Joffrey Baratheon, clad in the most expensive clothes gold could buy, sat atop his majestic white steed.

The inhabitants of Flea Bottom, most of them starved and caked in dirt, watched the passing party with varying looks. None of them were positive ones.

"A king shouldn't disrespect his own subjects." Tyrion Lannister, current Hand of the King, said with a pained smile.

The Hand tried his best to act polite in front of the scores of commoners but his waves and smiles did very little to make their frowns disappear.

Joffrey turned to his uncle. "Are you trying to tell me what to do, Imp?" He sneered nastily.

Tyrion discreetly rolled his eyes. "I could never hope to influence your truly magnificent thinking, your grace." An oblivious Joffrey puffed his chest at what he perceived to be a compliment.

"A king should always do what's best for his people." The auburn haired beauty, Sansa Stark, daughter of the late Eddard Stark, spoke from atop her mount.

"And who gave you permission to speak?" Joffrey glared at the girl.

Sansa lowered her head. "Forgive me, your grace. I only remembered something my father taught me." She apologized.

Joffrey scoffed. "I wouldn't take your father's words to heart if I were you. Lord Stark was a fool and a traitor. Isn't that right, dear Sansa?" He smiled evilly.

"My father was nothing but a traitor." Sansa murmured sadly.

"And a stupid one at that. My only regret is that he didn't die slower." Joffrey says, oblivious to the dark look being sent his way by Sansa.

Just ahead of the group, a lone woman walked out onto the street, a bundle of cloth was clutched tightly in her arms. The party slowed as they neared the woman, who remained unmoving in the middle of the path. All of the faces of the ladies and handmaidens present paled when they noticed that the woman was actually carrying a baby that was quiet and still as a rock.

"Make way for the king!" A kingsguard, Ser Aron Santagar, yelled at the woman, but she completely ignored the order and simply stared at the unmoving baby, silent tears fell down her face.

Sansa looked at the woman with a somber expression. "She's just lost her child." She said sadly.

Joffrey clicked his teeth in annoyance. "I don't have time for this, tell her to get out of the way!" He said uncaringly.

Those heartless words didn't go very well with the surrounding civilians who all roused and began shouting insults at the king. The City Watch readied themselves to draw their swords at a moments notice as the crowds got more and more rowdy.

"Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say." Tyrion remarked dryly. His worry increased when rocks, food and other projectiles started pelting them.

"How dare you disrespect your king! I order you all to stop this instance or I'll-" Joffrey's rant was cut short when a nappy sack was flung directly at his face.

Everyone (though Sansa and Tyrion were both secretly elated) looked on in horror at the sight of a shocked Joffrey whose face was now covered in piss and shit. And then the king exploded. "Who threw that?" He raged.

All around the common people of King's Landing continued jeering and throwing anything they could at the royal party. The Kingsgaurd drew their swords and positioned themselves around the king and the royal family.

Humiliated and enraged, Joffrey shouted an order at his sworn sword. "Dog, bring me the head of whoever threw that!" He ordered the Hound, Sandor Clegane, and like any obedient dog, the scar-faced man drew his sword and went to do just as he was ordered.

The moment the Hound took a step toward the crowd all hell broke loose. Hordes of enraged commoners surged forward and began clashing with the guards and knights. Servants and handmaidens were dragged down from their horses as the attackers numbers were simply too many for the few present gold cloaks to protect everyone.

"I order you to bring me and my family to safety!" A frightened and cowardly Joffrey ordered his Kingsgaurd who immediately began creating a path for the king and his family to escape, uncaring that they were leaving the rest of the party unprotected.

Sansa gaped in betrayal as Joffrey and his family fled to safety. The gap they left behind quickly filled with more raging smallfolk who continued to fight against the gold cloaks. No one was spared as even the High Septon was dragged down to be ruthlessly beaten by the crowd. Handmaidens were carried away, kicking and screaming, by scores of men who ripped off their clothes along the way. A sick feeling permeated in her gut as she realized what would happen to the handmaidens.

Suddenly, her leg was gripped tightly making her look down in horror. "I'll have fun with you bitch!" A yellow-teethed man leered at her before he began trying to pull her down from her mount.

She tried her best to kick the man away from her but her efforts were all in vain. Just when all hope seemed lost, a sword suddenly swooped down and cleaved the man's arm off. The man screamed in pain as Sansa looked toward her savior who was none other than Sandor Clegane.

With one swift movement, Sandor mounted Sansa's horse and reached around her to whip it into action. They barreled through a few people before taking off through stone-paved streets, leaving behind the ensuing conflict.

After they got further and further away, Sansa timidly looked over her shoulder. "T-Thank you for saving me, Ser Sandor." Sansa thanked the scar-faced man.

"I'm not a knight." The Hound grumbled.

"Well, I'm still grateful to you. I fear what would have happened if you hadn't come to save me." Sansa told him.

"I didn't come to save you. I needed a horse to get away from all those crazy fuckers." Sandor replied bluntly.

Sansa took on an almost pouting look. "Will you accept my thanks or not?" Sandor looked down at her, his dull grey eyes met her startling blue.

After a moment of silence, his permanent scowl lessened by a fraction. "You're welcome." He grunted before he focused back on the road ahead.

They rode through the streets in silence, leaving behind the chaos that was spreading through King's Landing.

oOo

Storm's End, with Percy…

The battle was finished.

Prior to the fight, Percy had already accepted the inevitable loss of his soldier's lives. While they did have the element of surprise and were only outnumbered by five thousand men, he had well expected to lose at least a quarter of his army in the fight.

But to put it simply, he had vastly underestimated the effect his surprise attack had on Renly's army. More specifically, the six oliphaunts that had been unleashed on the half-drunken camp. Even though he knew the gigantic mammals would strike fear into the hearts of any sane person, he truly hadn't expected a significant portion of Renly's army to flee at the sight of them.

Of Percy's total number of fifteen thousand men, only a few hundred had perished in the battle while close to five thousand of Renly's men had been killed with the rest either fleeing or surrendering when it became clear who the winner was.

All in all, his attack had gone far better than he thought it would. And he wasn't the only one that noticed either. Most of the Golden Company seemed to look at Percy in a new light after the battle. Before he was simply their golden ticket back home. But now he could see the newfound and genuine respect he had gained with them. They were starting to look at him not only as a king but as a leader. He supposed this was a good thing. Devotion inspired bravery and a braver man was more willing to die for his cause.

"The last of Renly's men have been rounded up, your grace. What should we do with them?" Balaq approached where Percy and his commanders stood.

For a moment Percy continued to gaze out toward the bay where he could see the sailing ships of Stannis as they retreated before he turned around. "How many did you round up?" He asked him.

"Many fled but around six thousand." Balaq answered.

That was much more than what the dungeons of Storm's End could hold which was only around a hundred.

"Well we can't keep them here and if we let them run off, odd are they'll join Stannis. So what now?" Percy mused to himself.

"We could always just kill them." Viserys spoke with a shrug.

Some of the other commanders present shifted and glanced at one another at that disturbing prospect while Percy frowned, deep in thought. He hadn't thought so many of Renly's men would surrender. When he entered the battle, he had entered it with the mindset that the fight was to the death. Obviously not everyone had the same resolve as him. But now what? He couldn't just let Stannis gain even more support, could he? It certainly would be the moral thing to do but definitely not the wisest.

"I think the decision is pretty obvious. We can't just kill them. Right, Perseus?" Daenerys looked at him.

Percy's thoughtful frown slipped right off his face the moment those words left her mouth. "Of course not. Send them on their way." He ordered Balaq.

A barely noticeable smile came onto the archers lips. "As you wish, my king." Balaq bowed before setting off.

Viserys groaned dramatically. "I still say we should have killed them. We'll only have to fight them again." He said blandly.

"If everything goes as planned, it won't matter how much men Stannis gains. The next time we meet, he'll be crushed." Percy tells him.

"Hopefully he doesn't just drop dead like Renly. I'm still curious how you ended up in his tent. Another True Targaryen trait, perhaps?" Tristan grinned.

Seeing the young commander so at ease around him annoyed Percy, considering the fact that he was seriously considering killing the boy for inadvertently endangering Daenerys. He had become used to feeling rankled around Tristan but now that he knew the reason for his annoyance, which was jealousy, it only enhanced his vexed feelings towards the bastard. Still, the sellsword had his uses so for now he would be allowed to remain unharmed.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Percy responded neutrally before turning back to face the bay, "Can everyone leave, please? I have to talk to Viserys about something." Although slightly startled at the sudden dismissal, everyone, besides Viserys, did as he asked.

As they all made their departure, Percy looked to where Daenerys and Missandei were wandered off to. His gaze drifted down to Dany's retreating backside. She was still sporting the form-fitting Unsullied armor she had stolen and he'd be lying if he said she didn't look damn good in it.

"Need I remind you that she's not of age." Someone suddenly spoke nearly making Percy jump, he turned to see an amused looking Viserys.

"What?" Percy asked dumbly.

Viserys rolled his eyes and jerked his head in the direction of Daenerys and Missandei. "The slave girl, Missandei, she's only ten name days. Though I must admit, she'll be a fine woman when she's older." He remarked.

Percy didn't know whether to be relieved that Viserys hadn't caught him eyeing Daenerys or disgusted at the insinuation that he was attracted to a child. His morals may have changed a bit since his reincarnation but he wasn't at rock bottom.

"Yeah, whatever you say." Percy decided to just let that particular conversation die out, "How are you doing by the way? After the whole battle to the death thing, I mean." He reiterated when Viserys raised a questioning brow.

"If you think I'm moments away from breaking down into tears, you must not know me well enough, dear nephew." Viserys snorted, causing Percy to roll his own eyes.

He didn't even know why he bothered to ask honestly. If anyone were to feel afraid after fighting in such a bloody battle it surely wouldn't be his uncle. Viserys enjoyed fighting just as much as Ares.

"Did you predict that Stannis would retreat once we attacked?" Viserys gestured toward the retreating fleet.

Percy thought for a moment. "There was definitely a chance that he would but no, I didn't really expect him to." He says.

Viserys hummed at that. "So what would you have done if Stannis decided to help his beloved brother?" He inquired.

Another prominent pause. "Probably call for a retreat." Percy answered honestly.

"... well, now I'm glad Stannis didn't join the fight. Retreating would have definitely ruined all the fun." Viserys quipped, eliciting a snort from Percy.

They continued staring after the fleet of Stannis which were mere black dots in the horizon by now. "I'm sorry about before, I shouldn't have ordered you around like that." Percy told Viserys.

"Bah, I'm already over that. Plus, I know how stupid you can get when it comes to Daenerys." Viserys grinned, "Remember that time you sat up all night with a sword in your lap because you were sure some noble you saw gawking at her was going to try and steal her away."

A blush made its way onto Percy's face. "I have no clue what you're talking about." He murmured, embarrassed.

"Oh? Well I remember perfectly, because you tried to take my head off when I opened the door." Viserys says.

Percy smiled at the memory before his expression grew somber. "I honestly don't know how to get through to Dany anymore. She doesn't listen to me, no matter what I do." He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

"Don't worry about it. She's probably just going through one of those cycles women have. You remember how she was when she flowered." Viserys told him.

"Now that's something I don't wanna remember." Percy grimaced, gaining a grunt of agreement from Viserys.

Twelve year old Daenerys had been an absolute nightmare to handle. A day didn't go by where she wasn't either screaming at the top of lungs about how much she hated them to bawling her eyes out whenever they had to leave her to go to their respective jobs. A shiver ran through Percy's spine at the thought of ever dealing with that again.

"So what's next? News of Renly's death and our success will no doubt spread like wildfire." Viserys spoke.

Percy hummed, absently kicking at the dirt. "I'm gonna send a raven to House Tyrell, requesting a meeting with them. And hopefully during that meeting I can persuade them to join us." He says.

Viserys took on an interested look. "And how exactly do you plan on gaining their allegiance?" He asks.

"Ser Loras will be a nice bargaining chip. He's not the heir of House Tyrell but he's still an important and popular member." Percy replied, making Viserys frown thoughtfully.

"What's stopping them from simply breaking the alliance once they get him back?" Viserys points out.

"That's why we'll have Renly's wife, Margaery. So it wouldn't be a very good idea if they tried to betray us." Percy says.

"And just how do you plan to obtain the only daughter of House Tyrell? Trading one prisoner for another sounds very counterproductive." Viserys said.

"I heard that Margaery Tyrell is one of the most beautiful women in the seven kingdoms." Percy thought aloud.

Viserys narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I've heard the same but what does that have do with anything?" He asks slowly.

A sly look formed on Percy's face and he turned to look at his suspicious uncle. "What do you think about marriage, Viserys?" He smiled.

oOo

Bitterbridge, Some days later...

Margaery Tyrell sat keenly scrutinizing herself in the reflection of a mirror. A servant girl stood behind her, slowly and carefully brushing her hair.

"Do you think my breasts are too small?" Margaery suddenly asked the servant girl who froze in her motions.

"Your b-breasts are perfect, my lady." The girl slowly stammered out, red faced.

Margaery giggled as she adjusted her dress to try and make her cleavage stand out more. "Thank you, but I didn't ask if they were perfect. I asked if they were too small." She said, amused.

The girl chewed her lip. "As long as it pleases your lord husband, I don't think it really matters, your grace." She replied cautiously.

A soft exasperated sigh left Margaery's lips. "That's the problem." She murmured before giving up on trying to somehow make her breasts look bigger.

Both women turned toward the tent entrance as it flapped open. Another servant girl entered, a letter clutched tightly in her hands.

"My lady, a message arrived… it's from the Targaryens." The servant shakily handed the letter to Margaery who's own heart had started to beat a little faster.

Margaery looked at the letter and sure enough the blood red seal of House Targaryen gleamed malevolently in the candle light. Her tongue lashed out against her dry lips before she carefully began to break open the letter. She took a calming breath before beginning to read,

Dear Margaery Tyrell,

I am writing to you to share some newly discovered and important information in regards to your husband, Renly Baratheon.

It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of your beloved husband's tragic death.

A sharp inhale came from Margaery when she read those words. "Leave me." She ordered her two servants.

While confused, the two girls did as ordered and quickly left the tent. After regaining her composure, Margaery began reading again,

I'm sure Renly told you of his plan to retake Storm's End, our current stronghold. Unfortunately for Renly, this brazen (stupid) plan did not quite go as he had expected it to. It is understandable if you are currently doubting the truth of this letter. But I assure you, Renly Baratheon is dead and his men have been defeated. You shall be made aware of this fact soon enough.

Now, the real reason I am writing to you is to formally request a meeting between both our families. During this meeting I will make your parents, Lord and Lady Tyrell, an offer that would greatly benefit the House of Tyrell.

I shall await your answer.

With best regards, Perseus of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, Rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Conqueror of the Seven Kingdoms.

P.S. I have your brother, Ser Flowers, lol.

With that odd sign off, Margaery shakily placed the letter onto her dresser as she slowly absorbed the shocking information she had just been told.

News of Renly's death, while shocking, wasn't as petrifying as the news of her darling brother, Loras, being in the hands of the Targaryens. Just how had they been defeated? The Targaryens should have been badly outnumbered by nearly ten thousand men. It didn't matter if Renly's army had been ambushed or what have you, no amount of planning could make up for that big of a gap in manpower. Perhaps the letter wasn't authentic and her brother was just playing a prank on her?

The moment that thought crossed her mind, alarms began ringing from outside. A worrying feeling that started to worm itself inside of her and a small voice in her mind whispered that perhaps the contents of the letter was indeed true. And if it was true, then it made one thing painfully clear. The future was now uncertain.

oOo

Storm's End, With Percy…

Jovial whistling could be heard clearly as Percy casually strolled through the dungeons of Storm's End, flanked by two guards. Many of the cells he passed were occupied with one or two of the many lords and knights they had captured during and after the battle.

It was an odd and new feeling for Percy to have real life prisoners. If said prisoners weren't such useful bargaining chips he would honestly rather they be set free just so they wouldn't weigh on his conscience.

Although, the fact that most of the prisoners were currently yelling insults at him as he passed by made him feel a bit less guilty for keeping them there.

"Fuck you, Targaryen cunt!"

"Can you shut up with that fucking whistling!"

"Bet you won't let me out of this cell, I'd kick your ass all across Westeros you sister-fucker!"

"King my ass, you look like a snot-nosed, prissy bitch to me!"

"God's please, I'll suck your cock if you let me out of this place!"

The last comment actually made Percy cringe. Whoever that person was truly wasn't built to withstand dark and dreary places.

Eventually he reached his destination which was a large, iron-barred cell situated at the far back of the dungeon, a good distance away from the rest of the prisoners. His eyes had long since gotten used to the shortage of light and he was easily able to make out the form of Ser Loras who had been stripped of his stylish armor and now wore the equivalent of rags.

The knight was curled up in one of the corners of the cell, fresh tear stains marked his dirty face. Percy signaled for the guards to unlock the cell. Ser Loras remained still even as the cell door swung wide open.

Percy stepped inside of the cell. "Hello, Ser Loras." He greeted the knight who stayed silent.

"You know, you don't have to be in here. I could have you put in a much nicer room than this if you want." Percy offered.

For a moment Percy thought the knight would ignore him again but Ser Loras finally looked at him. "Spare me your pity, Targaryen." He rasped.

"What can I say, I'm a merciful guy." Percy shrugged as he walked over to lean against a wall.

Loras scoffed which sounded more like a chuff due to his dry throat. "As merciful as you are cowardly." He snarked.

"I take it your head is still a bit sore." Percy chuckled at the venomous glare he received from the knight, "Was I just supposed to let you kill one of my commanders?"

"You were going to let me do it before the princess came." Loras claimed.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Oh, care to elaborate?" He asked.

"How did you end up behind me? I would have heard if you had entered the tent." Loras narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Maybe you just didn't notice me enter because you were in the middle of a fight." Percy replied easily.

"I'm not some third-rate knight oblivious to his surroundings. I would've noticed you. How did you end up behind me?" Loras asked again with a fierce tone.

Percy hummed before feigning an clueless look. "Perhaps it was magic." He shrugged.

Loras angrily shot to his feet. "Don't play games with me, Targaryen!" He shouted.

"Ser Loras, I understand that you're distraught due to the loss of your king, Renly-" Loras took a threatening step forward.

"Don't you dare say his name." Loras warned darkly, uncaring of the fact that the guards were close to drawing their respective swords.

Percy stared at the knight for a long moment before he looked to the guards. "Close the cell." He ordered.

The guards froze in shock. "Your grace?" One of the guards questioned, puzzled.

"You heard me, close the cell and make sure you lock it." Percy told them.

Unwilling to disobey a direct order from their liege, the two very confused knights slowly backed out of the cell before locking the door. "Now hand me the keys." Percy outstretched his hand through the bars.

"But my king-" Percy pinned the guard down with a hard look.

Hesitantly, the guard placed the keys into Percy's hand who then tucked the keys into his pocket before looking back to Loras who had watched the entire exchange with a perplexed expression.

"Now what was that about a dare?" Percy asked Loras with a challenging grin.

Loras blinked at him before he let loose a snort. "You Targaryens are truly mad." He said.

Percy stood up straight. "Am I as mad as that fool, Renly, who thought he could ever become king?" He mocked.

"Watch your mouth, scum!" Loras spat furiously though that didn't stop the next onslaught of words.

"You know, I find it odd how Renly was already dead by the time my commander reached his tent. Would you like to know something even weirder?" Percy innocently continued, "You were the only other person inside of the tent. It's quite suspicious, no? I may just have a theory as to who really killed Renly."

Loras was practically frothing at the mouth, his rage from before was rekindling. "Don't you dare…" He trailed off, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

Percy's hummed with a dramatically thoughtful expression. "All the facts line up perfectly. This wouldn't be the first time this happened. My own grandfather was slain by a knight sworn to him." He mused aloud.

"Don't say it." Loras's deathly quiet whisper was barely audible.

Slowly, a smile made its way onto Percy's lips. "Maybe… it was you who killed Renly." His words brought about the reaction he had been hoping for.

Ser Loras let out a mighty roar before he barreled forward, his mind filled with nothing but murderous intent. The sheer madness exhibited on the knight's face would have made any man pause. The reason for Tristan's reluctance during his fight with Ser Loras was made crystal clear now that Percy himself was on the receiving end of the knight's fury. But unlike Tristan, he didn't have a single ounce of fear in his heart.

When Ser Loras closed the short distance between them, he pulled back and delivered a jaw-breaking hook. Or at least it would have been if Percy hadn't caught the man's fist, stopping the attack dead in its tracks.

The feat, even in Ser Loras's rage-addled mind, was registered with shock. Percy's hand was wrapped firmly around the knight's fist, holding in an unyielding grip. Ser Loras's gaze connected with Percy's and his body instinctively froze up while his senses screamed danger as he saw the menacing red glow in the Targaryens eyes.

"I'm nothing like that boy you fought." Percy said darkly before leaning back to deliver a hard head-butt that connected with a sickening crack.

Ser Loras stumbled back, blood already beginning to gush from his nose. Percy's hand then lashed out to wrap around the dazed knight's throat. His iron-like grip made Ser Loras let out a strangled gasp as his airways were suddenly clenched shut.

With barely a grunt of effort, Percy lifted the knight high into the air in an astounding show of strength before brutally choke-slamming him into the ground. The groan that escaped Ser Loras's mouth quickly turned into a scream when a stomp, harder than anything he had ever felt before, connected with his stomach.

Rolling onto his front, a pained Ser Loras tried to lift himself up but his movements were completely halted when a boot firmly pinned his head down to the floor making his bloody face mingle with the rocky ground.

Percy absently wiped away the few drops of Ser Loras's blood that dribbled down his forehead as he stared down at the easily defeated knight. While Ser Loras was a very skilled fighter, that was strictly in regards to his sword fighting. He had neither the strength nor skill to match Percy in hand-to-hand combat. The fact that he had recklessly charged forward like a bull in a china shop had further cemented his defeat.

"I spoke with the other prisoners. Each of them told me that you were the last one seen with Renly before his murder." Ser Loras began shaking helplessly underneath Percy's foot, "I understand if you're afraid of being labeled as a dishonorable knight that turned his back on the oath he made to his king. I'd imagine your family wouldn't be very happy if such a shame ever became known to the seven kingdoms."

"I didn't kill him!" Ser Loras screamed helplessly.

Percy realized that the knight wasn't shaking from any kind of struggling but because he was crying. "Do you think anyone will believe you? The word of dozens of men stands firmly against you. Even your own fellow knight, Lord Caron." He told him, further dousing the knight with the true nature of his predicament.

"But it doesn't have to be this way, Ser Loras." Percy finally took his foot off the man's head.

Ser Loras remained stationary in the ground as he now openly sobbed, mixing blood and tears on the floor. "I didn't kill him." He weeped.

"As long as you say nothing, your secret will be safe with me. Instead, I'll choose someone else to take the blame for Renly's murder." Percy reached into his pockets to retrieve the keys before he walked to the cell door, "I'll be returning you to your family soon enough. They'll proudly accept you as their honorable son who fought valiantly for his king. I'm sure that's how you want them to see you."

While he may have been cool and calm on the outside, Percy could hardly believe how well this was going for him. He wasn't a complete novice when it came to manipulation but to do it on the fly was something that only ever came naturally to someone like Annabeth.

"Mother, I didn't do it, I swear." Ser Loras's schizophrenic whisper barely reached Percy's sensitive ears, he gave the sobbing and broken knight one last look before he left the cell, locking it behind him.

Percy then pinned both guards with a hard glare, purposely making his eyes glow a bit for added effect. "Not a word about what happened here to anyone, am I clear?" He warned them.

"Y-yes, my king." One guard stammered while the other quickly nodded.

Satisfied, Percy tossed the keys to one of the guards before walking away. When he had originally come down to see Ser Loras, he wanted to see if could still instill the idea that Melisandre had somehow killed Renly with magic. As he feared though, that plan was ruined due to him having to expose himself to save Daenerys and Tristan.

Though now it seemed like his plan wasn't completely in shambles. Even though it was really just luck sprinkled with some quick thinking that allowed him to pull off what he just did. The fact that kingslayers were also widely disliked paired with Ser Loras being a renowned knight of House Tyrell had pushed the Flower Knight, albeit unwillingly, to accept his role in Percy's plan.

Now all he needed to do now was pitch his marriage offer to the Tyrell's. Viserys was still annoyed with him about that but he'd get over it eventually (If Margaery truly was as beautiful as everyone claimed, Viserys would soon be singing praises). He also needed to find a scapegoat to take the blame for Renly's murder.

Percy paused as he recalled something. Hadn't there been seven knights in the Rainbow Guard? Viserys had killed the purple knight and captured the orange one while Jon and Grey Worm killed the red and green knights, and Tristan had told him about a yellow knight he had slain. Ser Loras had also been captured. That made six knights in total, leaving the big and burly, blue armored woman he had seen at Renly's parley.

Now that he thought about it, when he had snuck into Renly's tent, he hadn't seen the blue knight with the other Rainbow Knights. Did she realize something was up and escaped that night? If so, that meant she practically spat on her oath to protect her king with her life.

This was oddly convenient, but Percy wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. With that final thought, he stuffed his hands inside his pockets and resumed his jovial whistling.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"