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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 2
...
"Brynden Rivers if you can hear me, you're a fucking asshole!" I yelled out loud towards the air, before looking down towards the two direwolves staring at me like I was crazy. "Nothing?" I clicked my fingers. "Shoot-" I promptly turned my gaze upwards again. "The Three-eyed Raven is as psychotic as Aerys the second!" Pause. "Nothing?" I let out a sigh and promptly sat down on the ground crosslegged, before using a hand to call over one of the two direwolves, Nymeria? I think it was Nymeria, who elected to walk over towards me, bemusement oozing out of it's expression as it tilted it's head at me.
Reaching a hand out, I promptly started scratching it behind the ear, earning a contented sigh from the little beast.
"Whose a good little killing machine?" I questioned, before reaching both hands out and scratching behind both ears. "You are! Yes you are," I chuckled, only to watch as it's sister promptly tried barging it out of the way, and ended starting a scuffle between the two of them. Without much to do, I promptly leaned backwards on the ground and just stared up ahead into the sky, idly taking in the red comet in the sky.
I was pretty sure that only appeared after dragons came back to Westeros...
Huh.
I let out a shrug and just closed my-
"You..." Eddard Stark's voice drew me out of my musing as I opened one eye to stare at the man, watching as he carefully took a few steps towards me and sat down beside me, a heavy expression on his face. "You really are a messenger from them... Aren't you?"
I shrugged in response, turning my gaze back towards the sky in the process.
"It's definitely in line with your gods to send an asshole who doesn't want to stay alive to save you dumb fucks."
It was telling that he didn't get angry over that remark, instead electing to let out a sigh.
"So... You going to kill me or-" I started up again when he made no response.
"No." Ned immediately remarked. "You have the knowledge to save this kingdom-" I opened my mouth to retort, only for Ned to continue on unimpeded. "-Besides, I won't anger my gods to appease you, even if..." He shook his head. "I understand better than anyone what it's like to feel as if your life is cursed, but that doesn't mean you just give it up."
I nodded, raising myself up into a seated position.
"Is it honourable then, for you to stop me from dying and going off to a better place- 'Cos that's what death means for me, it ain't the end, it's just the start of another adventure in a much better, more civilised world." Pause. "You guys really set the bar low on that one."
"...Oh."
"Yeah." I nodded again. "It's hella dishonourable for you to hold me prisoner in this world, 'cos that's what it is."
Different emotions warred all across his face, before a resigned one took over.
"Look, I ain't trying to bust your balls here-" He raised an eyebrow at the words. "But, you don't have any power in the south, your status as a Lord Paramount is only viable in the North, and you're heading to a place where your honour, your power only means as much as the next guy with a bigger guard than you." I sighed again. "I would help, if I knew the fuckers in power would actually listen, but unfortunately the fuckers in power are literally the problem." I paused for effect, a grin growing on my face. "Besides, it's not like killing me can anger your gods enough to make things any worse." A beat passed as I leaned in consipiricaitly. "You were cursed the day you were born into the house of Stark."
He frowned at the words, taking them absolutely seriously, before to my surprise, he weakly nodded.
"It certainly feels like it... You just told me my children die one after another."
I nodded again.
"They do, well, two of them anyway. The other three survive- Sort of." I shrugged. "Sansa Stark get's traumatised to hell and back because, you know, you bethrothed her to a psychotic incest bastard that gives the Mad King a run for his gold in been an absolutely piece of shit to the continent." A very grave expression took over the Northen Lord's face at that. "Arya Stark becomes a faceless man." That turned that grave expression into the most incredulous expression on the man's face yet.
"What?"
"Yup. Girl wipes out an entire house in one night at some point in the name of revenge." Pause. "Even ends the Long Night by killing the White Walker's king. Big props to her, but I am pretty sure Westeros had gotten so insane at that point, the gods had just decided to put an end to the bullshit themselves."
He was just blinking at me now, completely out of his depths.
"Brandon Stark on the other hand..." I shook my head. "Brat gets the worst hand out of all of 'em, probably would've been a mercy if he'd just died actually."
"...Why? What could be worse than death-"
I made to answer that question, before to Ned's surprise, the Direwolves promptly started growling, a strange light filtering through their eyes as they edged towards me, menacingly.
I smiled and pointed towards them.
Ned raised a hand towards the two beasts, his eyes stuck on me.
"Well?"
I opened my mouth, my finger still pointed at the two beasts, and the wolves growled louder.
That time, he noticed, before his gaze rapidly turned back towards me.
"The gods..." He remarked, a shook expression on his face. "They prevent you from answering?"
"Something like that." I narrowed my eyes at the two wolves, as I stood up. I promptly leaned down towards Nymeria's glazed over eyes. "Piss. Off. Before I help the White Walker's win." And promptly put as much killing intent behind my eyes as I could, the wolf's instinctual need to survive briefly overcoming it's raven-control as it let out a yelp and lowered it's head on the ground.
Turning towards Eddard Stark, I found a gobsmacked expression on the man's face.
"Anywho, where was I?" I shrugged. "Brandon Stark lose-" And before I could fucking finish, I watched as Ned tensed, the sounds of dozens of gallops filling the background as my gaze took in the far away, yet approaching guard surrounding Robert the pig king of Westeros.
Eddard, himself, promptly told me to keep quiet as he rapidly stood up onto both legs, before picking up Ice and slinging it over his back.
I let out a sigh and just laid back down onto my back, my gaze on the sky.
"Well played." I deadpanned towards the Three-eyed raven as Ned tensed again, his eyes locking onto me. I don't know how he timed their approach in time, or even if he did, but fair play anyway.
"Stand!" He hissed. "That's the king approaching." He remarked, putting a serene expression on his face as he turned back towards the approaching force.
I snorted in response.
"What makes you think I'd answer to your king? I don't even answer to your gods."
...
...
"Your gr-" Ned started to speak as I made to get up and take in the halting force before me- My eyes falling on two of the Kingsguard, with a party of a dozen guards as Robert Baratheon came to a halt at the front of them, his horse turning to the right as it's gaze swivelled over towards the two direwolves.
I idly noted Barristan Selmy as one of the knights.
Still, I practically couldn't help myself as I let a surprised expression take over my face, my gaze set on Robert Baratheon in all off his un-glory.
"By the fucking gods man," I remarked, Ned stiffening beside me. "I didn't think it was possible but you're somehow even fatter than I expected!"
A beat passed as Robert Baratheon briefly narrowed his eyes while everyone else fell silent.
I turned towards Ned with a smile on my face.
"Maybe you guys have some hope after all! I didn't realise Westeros was this far up in animals rights, you guys put a fucking boar on the Iron Throne and stuck with it!"
Dead silence followed my words as I watched the knights and guards tense- A resigned expression going over Barristan Selmy's face as he hovered a hand over his sheathed blade.
The tension however was rapidly dissipated as Robert Baratheon raised his head and started laughing.
"I like this one!" The man remarked good-naturedly, before shaking his head. "I might have you executed for dishonouring your king, but I like you."
I shrugged, putting both hands behind my head.
"Your grace-" Ned started only for me to interrupt him.
"Go ahead, but if you can't take a joke then you're not half as charming as you think you are."
The man let out a derisive snort at my words before rolling his eyes.
"Kneel before your king." One of his knights, the not-Barristan Selmy one remarked affronted.
"Only if he can prove he's capable of kneeling first." I deadpanned in return, as a very sour expression filtered through Ned's face, while Robert's eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline.
"Robert-" Ned started once again, "Forgive him he's-"
"Hilarious!" The man laughed out loud again, before he promptly turned his horse around, and told one of his guards to ride with another and give their one over to me for the journey, to their utter annoyance.
Well, not exactly how I pictured this.
"You're definitely coming with us, we could use a fool with a spine!"
I twitched at the words and promptly turned a deadpan look towards Stark, the man letting out a heavy, albeit relieved, sigh as he got up on his own horse.
I calmly looked at the disgruntled guard forced to ride with his fellow before turning my gaze towards the now free horse.
Letting out a snort I promptly climbed onto it with one smooth motion, something that seemed to intrigue Selmy.
Needless to say, I rode up beside the older man and kept beside his pace, as Robert promptly started grilling Ned on his sudden 'escape' from his responsibilities as Hand.
Because of course he'd immediately assume that's what it'd been all about.
"You know, as bad as he might be," I quietly remarked towards Selmy, "He's no Aerys, or god forbid Rhaeger." I shook my head, only to earn a verydefensive expression in return. I grinned at the man. "At least if you ever saved his fat ass from Duskendale- if you could carry it- you wouldn't regret it, right?"
The defensive expression turned into a heavily frowning one as the knight looked at me with... What I assumed was a glower?
"Have care how you speak..." The man remarked tightly as he sped up ahead.
I rolled my eyes at him.
So much for getting stabbed by Barristan Selmy. Would've been a worthy death.
I used to be so much better at pushing buttons.
Riding up ahead towards Robert and Ned's position, I idly asked the man if he'd ever considered legalising one of his bastards and letting them take over the Iron Throne.
Needless to say, no one appreciated my idea- Though Stark was mostly trying to shut me up with his glare.
Still Robert's snickering certainly seemed to lift the mood up somewhat.
"Ask me again in front of my court." He deadpanned towards me with a wink.
...I may have just met my match.
"In front of Queen Bitch-Face? Sure." I deadpanned in response.
It was telling that most of the guards and both two knights were visibly holding in the urge to draw their weapon.
Robert's laughter was the only thing that stopped them from doing it.
"Oh, it's a pity you're not going to last very long," The man sighed whimsically.
"That's the plan!" I grinned in response. "If that doesn't get me killed, I was thinking of taking a shit in Tywin's golden privy, I hear it stabs you in the arse if you're not a Lannister."
Needless to say the rest of the journey back was filled with laughter.
Hell, at some point even the guards loosened up enough to join in on the laughter.
Eddard Stark for some reason however had a very disturbed expression on his face for the entirety of it.
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 3
...
Unsurprisingly, there was already a party going on in the make-shift court before us. The sounds of cheers and a good time rising as the dining guards stationed on the outskirts of it took notice of our arrival. All of them barely paying any attention to a newcomer within the party- Hell the direwolves barely got a raised eyebrow.
Leave it to Robert Baratheon to pre-emptively set up a party for his return.
Jumping off the horse before the king was probably seen as bad decorum given the sudden minor shift in those who could see, but I didn't really care as I walked ahead, Robert and his entourage jumping down immediately after, the man's booming voice filled with cheer as he high-tailed it towards the nearest make-shift table, that been an oversized tree stump, with drinks on it.
I idly waited as he picked up the biggest wooden cup, before I promptly picked up another and walked past the bemused, albeit somehow still cheery guards.
It was telling that Ned himself immediately picked up another, and rapidly downed it without a missed beat.
Turning my gaze I watched as the rest of Roberts guard and two knights quickly surrounded him as I let them walk past me, albeit pickpocketing a dagger from one of them- Something that Ned picked up on given the fucker was staring at me like a hawk.
I shrugged at him, and calmly hid the dagger behind me.
He narrowed his eyes at me.
I bought up the drink in hand.
"Cheers?" I grinned at him.
"...You're not going to stab yourself with that, are you?" He questioned gruffly, ignoring the nearest guards who could clearly hear him.
I shrugged in response.
"Jury's out," Before I promptly turned my gaze ahead and followed the King's pace, the man hightailing it for the middle of the camp, bypassing the large ass carriage and promptly took his place on the make-shift wooden throne beside his clearly irritated wife. "'Sides," I let the grin grow a tad as I stared pointedly at Stark. "I've some Lannisters to insult."
And before he could respond to that, I watched as the direwolves beside us were promptly engulfed by their owners, Ned's attention monetarily shifting and softening towards his daughters as I took my chance to leave him behind.
...
The party atmosphere itself was admittedly contagious- I wasn't sure how I'd found myself in one of the make-shift tables but here I was drinking away and refilling my cup.
I had to admit it was somewhat fun having a relatively normal tolerance again.
Still, after Robert's fun for the evening was clearly reaching it's limit- Judging by the man's drunken face, I finally took my leave of the guards I'd befriended for some reason, and stood up from my spot.
The attention on me wasn't immediate, but it quickly started growing as I steadily made my way towards the head-table, one filled with the royal children, guarded by the kings guard, and the Hand and his two children.
Throughout the festive mood, Eddard had considerably gotten less and less worried with every gaze he'd set on me, evidently feeling secure in the idea I wouldn't do something stupid anytime soon.
Come the morning, according to Robert, the massive group would make their way towards King's Landing with haste, given the half a day they'd lost thanks to runaway direwolves, and a very keen man trying to be a good father.
A strange thing for the populous around us for certain.
Still, with every growing eye on me, with every step I took, I quickly had the full attention of the court of simpering idiots, minor lords, and of course household guards.
"You know, must be real nice to be king, aye?" I snorted. "Don't ever have to wipe your ass with all these ass-kissers nearby!"
My eyes however, despite the king's amused gaze on me, never left the smug-face of one Jamie Lannister. Stood right behind the King and Queen.
Cersei herself was admittedly enough rather easy on the eyes, even if she was a terrible headache on the mind.
I raised my tankard, grinning all the while.
"Ah- Where was I? Oh right, to Jaime Lannister!" The make-shift courts voices silenced quickly at my words. "The King-slayer who saved a city-" A single beat passed, as Jaime's smug look slowly whittled out in favour of slight bemusement. "-And somehow forgot the fucking wildfire beneath it!" I lowered my tankard as I let everyone process my words. "Didn't you know? Wildfire grows more dangerous with every goddamn second it's left unattended." I shook my head, and promptly raised my tankard towards the somewhat paler knight. "To the dumbest mother-" My eyes momentarily swivelled to a very irritated queen. "-fucker-" The pinched look was rapidly replaced by concern. "-in the history of knights!"
Was I surprised that, barring a single cough and a vast majority of spit-falls flying around at my statement, silence was what I got in turn.
No, I wasn't.
Was I surprised at the dawning realisation in the King-slayer's eyes, that shifted his rather pissed and wary expression, to a quickly paranoid one?
Again, no.
I was however surprised to see the dumb fuck take out his sword in front of his king, and demand a goddamn duel for his honour.
I gave him a deadpan stare, as did most of the court.
When the king made to veto the duel, having grown fond of me- my statement even getting a fucking snigger out of him, I stopped him from doing so and just started laughing out loud.
He clearly thought I was joking about the wildfire.
Ned, given the very pale face, knew I wasn't.
"...Raise your weapon..." Jaime Lannister remarked through grit teeth, his paranoia giving away to minor hints of anger.
"Sure!" I deadpanned, and promptly waved my tankard around. "Let's see how your sword fares against a tankard!" And continued laughing in his face.
Judging by the look on said face, he clearly thought me mad.
Judging by the look on Robert's face, he clearly wanted to see me try and duel one of the Kingsguard with a fucking tankard of all things, even if he was resigned at what the expected result was.
Several of those closest to the middle- And me, promptly edged their seats further away.
Jaime's twitching expression was rather fun to take in as I raised an eyebrow at him, his bravado clearly shaken by my stupidity.
"...I'll not-"
"Besides, don't you need honour for an honour duel?" I deadpanned, and cut off whatever he'd been about to say as minor hints of laughter filled my surrounding.
Jaime Lannister let out a sigh, and stepped around the dais, his blade raised.
"Very well, if you insist on dying out of stupidity," He let a sardonic smile fill his face. "Who am I to judge for your choice of weaponry?"
I nodded amiably at him, before tilting my head as the smile vanished from my face, mock-bemusement filling my face.
"Well, I mean if you insist, I can use this dagger?" I deadpanned, taking out said dagger with my free hand.
"...A dagger?" He questioned with a mocking tone, before indicating his already drawn blade. "Against a longsword?" A single beat passed, before he let out a sigh. "Do you even know how to use it?" he questioned mockingly.
I nodded amiably.
"I would use something smaller than a dagger-" I waved said cup around, "-but your manhood isn't available."
Needless to say, he didn't hesitate as he promptly swung an overhead swipe at me, and despite my disgruntlement, my instincts kicked in as I parried the blade, using most of his force against him, with said dagger and promptly smashed the tankard in my other hand right onto his face.
Unbalanced by the sudden attack, I watched as he rapidly pulled himself together, a snarl on his face as blood dripped down from a gash on his forehead, and with a bit more force and a much worse stance, he swiped again-
Instead of parrying, I swiftly dodged the swipe to his surprise, moved in between his guard, twisted into a turn on my feet and grabbed hold of his sword arm with both hands over my shoulder and used the rest of his momentum to judo drop him onto the floor, before quickly moving my dagger right above his wide-eyes.
"Rookie." I snorted, promptly raised myself back up and turned my back towards him as I quickly mock bowed before the king.
"To Jaime Lannister everybody!" I promptly continued laughing before sheathing the blade back into my tattered belt behind me.
Needless to say, I winked at the queen as Jaime Lannister got up behind me, a snarl on his face-
"I didn't yeil-" He was about to say as he swung from behind me, an attack I swiftly dodged again, despite not even turning to look towards him, before using one foot behind one of his own given he'd overextended, and promptly pulled it towards me, before quickly crouching as I put enough force into a kick on his chest and pushed him back down onto his back again.
Unfortunately, before the dumb fucker could get another chance at it, a very amused Robert promptly called a halt to the mockery of the duel, even as his wife seethed beside him.
Arya Stark however had the goofiest fucking grin on her face out of everyone else.
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 4
...
I let out a somewhat contented sigh as I stared out ahead into the evening's rather beautiful sky. Following my 'duel' with the Lannister, Robert's party mood had doubled down as he'd somehow found more energy to screw around with, effectively demanding that everyone keep at it for the rest of the night, with no end in sight.
I knew better.
Since handily giving one of his more competent Kingsguard his ass, he'd evidently taken my wildfire warnings far more seriously, even if he didn't show it. A small part of him likely only now realising how close he'd always been to death for the past decade and a half.
Regarding the trouncing of the lion, I'd had a few red cloaks unsurprisingly show their distaste for me, rather openly at that- Though any actions from their part, following an attempt at my life, had promptly vanished the moment I'd grabbed a freaking arrow out of mid-air on instinct the moment I'd left the main area.
Well, presumably, anyway.
I knew it was a red cloak giving they were on guard duty, and no one else had tried to kill me since.
Probably figured to try again when they were sober or some other nonsense.
Still, given the other company, from the Stormlanders to the Northern members and mostly minor lords from the Riverlands, I had a feeling my little bout was been taken rather positively otherwise.
Sure most of 'em probably put it down to dumb luck, but given the overall mood at the party, barring Queen Bitch-face, a nickname Robert had actually used in public, I figured I didn't have much hope of dying any time soon. At least not until we reached the capital. Evidently having the King's favour was seen as a reason to keep me alive.
I had considered using the dagger to end my life, but somehow Ned freakin' Stark had taken it away from me.
Pity.
"You fought well." A voice called out from behind me, causing me to look towards a certain old knight who could carve the current crop of his fellows like they were cake. The aged knight promptly walked up beside me and took a seat.
I'd been sat closer towards the outskirts of the camp, hopeful some dumbass red-cloak had the balls to try and get Tywin's favour or some other nonsense.
"Don't you have a king to guard?"
"I have brothers to help keep my duty for me." He remarked easily, his eerie gaze set on me.
"Mhm." I nodded uncaringly. "What makes you think I fought well?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Most are calling it dumb luck."
Barristan Selmy chuckled at the words.
"Dumb luck doesn't help you perfectly break through a kingsguard's guard twice in rapid succession." His eyes momentarily narrowed. "You need swordsmen training to know exactly when to do so, and with a fighter like Jaime Lannister, that window is exceptionally small." He took a breather. "Not to mention you've obviously had other training given the fighting style you settled for-" His narrowed eyes gave away to a bemused expression. "Why not settle for duelling him like a knight when you obviously can?" He questioned curiously. "Many back there would've offered you a proper blade for it."
I carefully studied the man beside me.
"You're awfully certain I have the skills for it, it really could be dumb luck."
"Yes, it could." The edges of his mouth twisted into a slight smile. "But that wasn't. I've been a knight long enough to recognise a dangerous fighter when I see one." A serious expression quickly took over. "And your eyes remind me of Arthur Dayne's. You could've likely gone through the kingsguard back there and killed the king if you'd wished."
I snorted.
"Does that include you?"
"Perhaps." He answered seriously, his gaze still appraising me. "Even now, inebriated as you are- I see no open signs to attack even if I wanted to. Even now, my senses are telling me that picking a fight with you, would only end one way."
"Rather big leap in logic, don't you think? Arthur Dayne? I don't-"
"He too, found very little to worry about, no matter whose blade he faced-" He narrowed his eyes. "But even he had the sense of survival not to toy with his lessers."
"Maybe I just want to die?"
He nodded resolutely at that one.
"And that makes you all the more dangerous," He remarked pointedly. "If your body itself is capable of handing one of the finest warriors in the kingdom his backside, despite your minds indifference to it, then one could only wonder what you could when focused."
I hummed along at this explanation, before letting out a shrug.
"And? What of it? Maybe I am that good- Maybe I am the warrior come again?" I snorted. "Or maybe the warrior was based of off me? Who gives a fuck?"
He promptly raised himself into a standing position, ignoring my blasphemous remark with ease.
"I do." He remarked resolutely before he promptly unclasped one blade from his around his waist and handed it over to me. "I would very much like a proper duel with you." A single beat passed. "Perhaps when your sober, however."
I snorted in response.
"Oh trust me, old man, I've plenty of advantages as it is," A beat passed. "To the death?" I questioned with a grin.
"I would much rather not." He deadpanned. "I do have a duty to uphold."
I rolled my eyes at him and asked him to lead the way as I took hold of the offered blade, before taking out of it's sheath to test it out, Barristan's studious gaze on me all the while.
"So, what are we fighting for anyway?" I question as I followed him. "Can't just be because you want to get your ass kicked."
He harrumphed at that one, a small chuckle coming out.
"I would simply have you tell me one thing." He remarked, giving a brief look over his shoulder at me.
"Which is?"
"Are you a danger to the king?" His eyes briefly narrowed. "Am I to face a faceless man right now?"
I almost stumbled at that one, my laughter echoing out loud.
"Nah, I'm just a danger to myself- And anyone else caught in it whose too stupid to live."
After a brief moment, the man sighed, his unspoken words to my response clear as day.
Yes, yes I was a danger to the king.
...
-Barristan Selmy-
...
He held in the urge to pant, to greedily grab hold of more air as he carefully manoeuvred himself around, keeping a tight hold on his stance. His gaze focused ahead as he took in the easy-going expression before him. The stranger idly waved around his blade tauntingly, as he'd done since they'd started their bouts.
He knew he couldn't risk taking too long as he went in for a stab, keeping his body's position engrained into his head, as his sword-hand swiftly switched his blade's edge horizontally, his mind preparing and taking in the sudden sidestep to the side to the dodge before him, as he quickly manoeuvred his blade into a horizontal swipe.
He watched, barely showing any surprise, as the other, in one swift motion, threw his blade into the sky, while his body impossibly bent backwards to avoid the sudden swipe- Yet just as quickly as he'd switched his side-swipe into another overhead one down the middle, he grit his teeth as he forced himself to stop the sudden attack and quickly take a few steps backwards, just in time for the thrown blade to land down, blade first, into the exact spot his head had been in mere moments ago, his body rapidly shifting into a defensive stance-
Only for his gaze to momentarily widen as, instead of grabbing the mid-air blade and dashing for an attack as he'd done before, his mind idly noting the fact it had been diagonally aimed towards his newest position, the stranger promptly kicked the hilt of it, and forced the blade to soar towards him, spinning as it did, before it ended on a diagonal swipe that would've cut through his neck had he not made a last-minute adjustment to his guard- Only for his momentary lapse of balance to award him both, a kick on his left foot that almost buckled him as he held his blade with a two-handed grip as the stranger, just as fast, rapidly grabbed the ricocheted blade into a diagonal swipe that was barely blocked.
The stranger smirked as, instead of continuing his attack into what would've surely been an easy victory, backed off and simply started waving his blade around almost uncaringly.
Feeling the exertion of the duels take their hold on him, he let out a breath and simply chuckled as he promptly sheathed the blade. His mind idly took in the shocked onlookers, from his fellow kingsguard to the king himself, betting and drinking as they watched the bouts.
He almost couldn't believe what he'd witnessed himself.
The stranger was...
He shook his head again.
He was someone he wouldn't want to face in an actual battle, that was for certain.
His fighting style was near impossible to read, and any time spent trying to figure out was time spent giving the other to not only read him but proceed to predict him. Openings he purposely left open were the very openings he'd planned three, four, even five steps ahead- The visual of the fight and what was going to happen already seen before he'd even had time to consider taking them.
Likewise, if he made to break his guard instead of falling for the clear traps presented, he'd find himself overtaken because said defence was almost impossible to break through without exertion on his own side, and worse generally led towards a chaotic dance that the other was still in control of.
The stranger didn't bother using his own strength, instead allowing momentum to dictate the fight itself, he didn't waste energy, he didn't miss a single step. Every attempt he'd made, whether it was to change his own stance, to attempting to manoeuvre around the other was perfectly countered.
Yet, possibly the hardest thing to overcome- Even if they were on similar levels, which he sorely doubted, for while his own swordsmanship was better, it was the sheer number of alternatives that the other was experienced in, to faith defying levels, that prevented him from capitalising on his own advantage.
But even then, what made it truly impossible, was the simple fact that the other, somehow, seemed to control not just his own body's placement, not just his ability to predict him action for action, but rather his control of their surroundings- Going as far as using the minuscule change in the wind itself as an advantage if he'd felt the need to. The man had complete, absolute control of their surroundings and a near on superhuman insight into him and the flow of the fight.
It was more akin to fighting a blade-wielding storm than a knight. The man weaponised everything around him, down to the last minuscule detail.
He was practically a sorcerer with a blade.
Barristan simply couldn't fathom the amount of training, the number of decades it would take to be able to instinctually pull off what he'd seen. And yet... look as young as the other- Even Jaime Lannister had likely expected him to be as good as his age dictated, a green warrior who'd been too young to join the Rebellion- Though odds were the Lannister truthfully hadn't expected much.
He shook his head again, a genuine chuckle coming out of him, as he reached a hand out, the other snorting as he took it and promptly sheathed the blade he'd lent him before handing it over.
"Good fights," The man grinned at him. "Nice to warm up every now and then, don't you think? Really sober's one up."
He couldn't help the second chuckle at the words, a mournful part of him reminiscing as to why Rhaeger hadn't had a blade this adept on his side during the war.
"Gods man," Robert's booming voice overtook them as both of them promptly turned towards the approaching king, Barristan instantly lowering his head into a small bow. "Where the bloody hell did you learn how to fight like that!?" There was a veritable tone of respect in the Demon of the Trident's voice.
The other shrugged and uttered a word that was both utterly ridiculous, yet utterly terrifying if truthful.
"I am self-taught."
Robert's eyes momentarily widened, before steeling themselves.
"If one of the useless fucks meant to protect me loses their place for whatever bloody reason, I want you in my kingsguard!"
The man waited a single beat before snorting at the King's request.
"Hell no. Would literally rather die." And promptly walked away as if he hadn't just insulted an order that's been around for centuries, and not to mention the king himself! Something that the king seemed to find humorous judging by the shake of his head at the response, yet judging by the veritable sea of disapprovement-
He tensed as he heard the sudden sound of a crossbow's discharge fill the air, the sound stopping Robert's own voice as the king's eyes momentarily widened. Yet before any of them could so much as move toward the stranger- He watched, his eyes disbelieving the sight before him, as without even turning towards the source of the bolt... Faster than any of them could process, the stranger had raised a hand towards the side of his head and caught it.
"Seriously?" The man deadpanned. "Freakin' rookies." And promptly threw it away as he continued walking off, the disbelieving king at his heel. Robert's cries to find the one responsible were ignored as he promptly started scouring the area around him, as he started going through the hundreds of very confused and panicking onlookers doing the same.
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 5
...
He carefully walked in between the mounds of sleeping and snoring men, his gaze going through every make-shift tent as he kept himself hidden and out of sight of the relatively low number of guards.
The dumb scary fucker he was been paid a gold dragon to kill had refused any guards for himself, or even a closer spot to the nobles, for whatever reason.
At least according to her.
He briefly shivered at the look he'd gotten when he'd asked her why she wanted the guy dead.
Questioning royalty would've been a stupid way to die. Though given he had no family, at the very least he would've died curious and without regret? Well. Mostly.
It didn't take long before he finally found his mark, the scary ass fucker was thankfully still sleeping, practically dead to the world as he snored, laid against the tree as he did.
He'd seen the duels... Most of them had... The thought of them momentarily brought a shiver down his spine, one he ignored.
He was asleep. That was all that mattered.
It didn't matter if you were the goddamn warrior, once asleep, you were easy prey.
For a brief moment he considered just throwing the knife at him- The Queen had refused to allow him the use of anything else, given the two previously failed attempts by what he presumed were other desperate guards.
Thinking of the possibility that he might miss his mark, he held in a sigh and crept towards the man- His gaze locked onto those sleeping within close proximity, most likely passed out from drinking. His mind idly noted a few nobles and heirs among them.
Evidently, the fucker was already popular among them, despite been a literal nobody.
Keeping his gaze locked onto the ground, in case he missed any unseen branches and twigs, it wasn't long before he found himself almost face to face with the man.
Slowly, and carefully, he reached the knife out towards his neck, his own breathing practically non-existent as he listened to the other's obnoxious snoring-
"Don't mess up now, you only get one shot at it." The words practically froze him on the spot as pure fear filtered through him. "It won't be pretty if you do." The man remarked, his eyes still closed as he literally kept on snoring after his statement. A serene expression on his 'sleeping' face.
Gulping once, the guard made the on the quick decision to resign from his post and become an Essosi sellsword as he calmly turned around on the spot and hightailed it out.
He ignored the sudden whine and curse he heard in the background, as he kept his gaze far and away from that entire direction.
Fuck the Queen, she can kill that demon herself.
...
...
I was admittedly feeling rather down- I'd been so close, so fucking close!
Why, in god's killing floor of a planet, did I open my fucking mouth!?
"Ha! You look like the seven hells right now!" Robert's voice pricked my ears as I turned my gaze towards him. The man had insisted I accompany him at the front the moment everyone was up and ready to move, while by his other side was a lost in thought Stark.
Which, well, was a good sign at least.
Most Starks tended to reach the bad ending if they didn't use their brain. Rather quickly at that.
It was nice to know I was somewhat changing things- Hell the fact he hadn't already tried to arrest Cersei spoke volumes! Or maybe he was just waiting for actual proof? Or he really took my White Walker warning seriously enough to let her keep a semblance of power until the night dick was dealt with?
Either way, the change was good! I think.
Behind us stood some of Robert's, somewhat wary Kingsguard, their gazes focused on me- Well, Barristan wasn't wary, hell the man looked relaxed for whatever reason.
"Can't handle your drink like you handle a blade?" Robert questioned with a grin.
I shrugged, earning a snort out of him.
"Well, glad to see you're not good at everything!" The man barked out. "I'd lose my crown if you were!"
...Did this fucker actually think being able to handle one's drink was a freaking requirement to be king!?
I mentally sent Ned Stark my condolences.
"Eh, less that and more that I am still alive right now." I deadpanned, shaking my head. "Was so close to getting my neck split open last night by some idiot with a knife!"
I ignored Jaime Lannister's sudden cough.
And before Robert could respond to that, I let out a mournful sigh stomping his reaction.
"Fucker lost his balls before he could go through with it!"
"..." Robert turned his gaze momentarily towards Ned, and before he even said anything, the Stark promptly nodded and slowed down on his trot as he turned his horse around and started giving out orders to a few of the guards he'd brought with him. To presumably find the assassin, while I turned my attention back to Robert. "You're upset that you didn't die? To a cunt without balls?" He questioned confused. Yet before I could even answer, his eyes quickly narrowed. "With skill like yours, the only place you should even think of dying in is a battle! Where every moment, every breath could be your last! Surrounded by death, and the only thing stopping it is the weapon in your hand and enough booze in your body to dull the pain!"
Yeah, well, give your boyfriend a few weeks and there might be a fucking war.
For Ned's sake, I didn't say that out loud. I felt he had enough on his plate as it is- Though if I make it to the moment Robert decides to freakin' assassinate a child, we were gonna have a problem.
A single beat passed following his words before an excited grin quickly showed itself onto his face.
"Have you ever been in a battle?" His frown rapidly made itself known. "Gods, I don't even know your name!" I was pretty sure there was a question there.
"I've had a lot." I shrugged, "And yes I have been in a few battles."
He completely forgot about my name and excitedly asked me how many soldiers I'd taken down by myself.
"It had-"
"Trained, or untrained?" I deadpanned the question towards him, briefly freezing his own words as bemusement filled his gaze. "Though in all honesty, everyone looks untrained to me..." I paused, frowning. "It's kind of hard to tell really, after the first few dumbasses that try to fight me in a one on one for whatever stupid reason, I kind of just get swarmed by the rest when they see me kill their betters." A beat passed, my gaze oblivious to the expression on Robert's face. "At that point, there's just so many bloody corpses on the ground it's hard to tell-" Another beat passed. "It's even harder when they start running away, freeze out of stupidity, and in one rare instance actually just kill themselves because they think it's less painful." One final pause and I gave the other another shrug. "Which is really stupid 'cos I would've spared that fucker's life if he'd just asked."
I blinked at the wide-eyed, childish expression on the goddamn king's face.
"...So yeah, I guess death does sort of surround you when you're just handing it out like cheap brothel wine?"
After a brief moment of... what I presumed was adoration, the man let out a sigh and shook his head.
"Thank fuck you weren't in the rebellion." The man remarked towards me. "The bloody priests used to talk about people like you-" He suddenly frowned as a look of realization set in. "Maybe the faith isn't as full of it as everyone makes them out to be..."
Well. I may have just convinced Robert to start going to church of all fucking places.
Which, considering what his lore said about his actual duties as king and the number of council meetings he'd gone to- I figured was a pretty big butterfly... Almost as big as him actually.
Frankly, the only church, chapel, faith-building-thingy that I'd have figured him to go to was a blasphemously named brothel.
Something like The Father's Whores? The Warrior's Brothel? The Crones Bitches? The MILF? The Smith's Sex Toys? The Stranger's Chlamydia?
Obviously, the Maiden's brothel already exists- It's called Dorne.
I idly considered opening one of those up, if only to increase the number of people after my head.
Regardless- The idea of making Robert more pious was hilarious... Unless, you know, he became a priest of Rohypnol.
Red faith?
Lord of Light pricks?
I can't remember what they were called.
The cult that burns people alive for placebo visuals in a fire.
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 6: Interlude: Sandor Clegane
...
He let out a grunt as he walked through the shit-stained road, the wary Stark guards following behind him as they failed to hide their gawking at the numerous banners around them.
Leave it to Robert Baratheon to have a freakin' tourney in secret prepared for their return. He was just glad he had his royal shit-head of a charge back in the Red Keep and out of trouble.
Stopping on his feet, the Mud Gate in the distance, he turned a sneer towards the bemused soldiers behind him.
"This is where I lost sight of him." He grumbled.
He wasn't sure why the King himself had asked him to accompany the mad fucker, nor was it his place to question orders.
He was just pissed off he'd lost sight of the blasted dick almost five minutes after entering the city. After which he'd just headed towards a nearby tavern for a few drinks before the fuckers around him had come and interrupted him, asking for the fucker he'd lost because the fucking Hand was looking for him.
His eyes briefly narrowed as he heard the sound of the commotion, his gaze turning around towards the source of the noise as he started walking through the multitude of camps before him- Banners of the lords they belonged to flying high, even if none of the high-born pricks stayed in them. Their knights were either too broke or too cheap to bother with paying for a stay in the city's admittedly expensive lodgings- Well, expensive if they didn't want to spend time looking at the desolate fuckers that lived in the poorer parts at any rate.
"If I had to guess- He's over there." He snorted, intent on turning back and letting the fuckers look for him themselves before his eyes narrowed at one particular banner he'd caught sight of.
Judging by the looks on the guard captain's face, he recognized it as well.
"Isn't that..?" He didn't bother hearing the rest as he grit his teeth and sped up towards it, his anger briefly filling him at the thought of what he might find-
When the sound of fighting grew louder with every step, as the banners slowly whittled down in number, a scowl rapidly filled up his face.
He wasn't getting caught dead without evidence- 'Cos that was his fucking house banner rapidly getting closer.
"Hound!" A sword was quickly drawn behind him as he turned a sneer towards the captain himself. Said man was very wary as he stared at him, hard.
"Lord Stark wants him back in one piece..." The man remarked as his fellows hovered their hands over their hilts, while the captain's eyes momentarily went towards the banner directly behind him.
He let out a snort at the words.
"I ain't the Clegane you gotta worry about right now." He responded before turning again as he walked further into the camp itself. His gaze set on the large tent set up ahead.
Oh, he wasn't surprised to see his banner whatsoever- The moment he'd walked in, he'd figured his psychotic brother was already here.
He never could resist a tourney- It was practically the only thing that he showed up to early if only to get a good whiff of whichever poor fuckers he was probably going to kill.
Still, that didn't prepare him for the sight that awaited him- there wasn't any of Gregor's usual company stationed outside the massive tent, though there was a handful of very... Worried? Timid? Scared squires... Still the pool of blood coming out of the tent wasn't a good sign that the person the fucking King had asked him to accompany was still alive.
Warily, he stepped over the dead bodies of his brother's companions as he walked in, and practically felt his jaw drop at what awaited him.
Surrounded by the cleaved bodies of his brother's companions, the tell-tale sign of his brother's handiwork at that, his eyes widened at the sight of his brother on his knees, a pool of blood around his eyes, and... Stumps. Both of his hands, one clasping hold of his two-hander on the ground beside him.
He blinked a few times, his presence finally noticed by the fucker responsible, the man's bloody dagger idly held by the same hand he was using to scratch the back of his head.
His gaze momentarily lowered itself towards the pool of blood surrounding his brother's... Well, where his dick was supposed to be.
He'd never thought he'd see the day where he'd look there with a fucking smile on his face.
Though... Judging by the blood on the clothing itself, he doubted there was anything hidden inside them, anymore.
"Hmm? Sandor!" The fucker grinned as he turned on the spot. "What, you wanna do the honors?" The fucker questioned, his empty hand idly waving Gregor's delirious head around. "Pretty sure he's still kicking!" The fucker deadpanned, idly pointing towards his brother's knees, the only thing holding him up, with his dagger, before his gaze slowly traveled towards the speechless Stark guards around them, as a sheepish expression filled his face.
"He started it!" The man deadpanned. "Like, just ask anyone..." The man's gaze slowly fell towards his brother's dead companion. "Outside?"
He blinked a few times as he took a few careful steps inside, his gaze taking the fucker as he shrugged and promptly let go of Gregor's head, the giant man falling backwards to the ground with a thud, his very rapid breathing the only sign he was still alive, even as he bled out.
"I didn't kill his friends-" He paused frowning- "I might've used them as meat shields- But I didn't kill 'em." The man deadpanned again.
He ignored the man's drivel as he walked up towards his brother's wheezing form. And for perhaps the first time in a long while, he let out a genuine laugh, his mind ignoring the wary Stark guards as they calmly told the fucker the Hand was looking for him.
"Bugger." The man deadpanned as he walked past him, intent on leaving him with his brother's soon-to-be corpse, only to stop as Sandor lashed a hand out towards his shoulder, the other's gaze pinning him with a bemused look.
"Drinks, whores, whatever you're into, it's on me tonight." He remarked out, his tone light, as he turned around on the spot, and left his brother to his death.
It didn't take very long before he breathed his last.
"Cool." The man shrugged as he idly pocketed the bloody dagger. "Think ole' Rob's going to execute me for this?"
He doubted it.
"What for? My brother had an accident." He deadpanned towards him, before gracing the Stark guards with a pinning look. "Ain't that right? He fell right on his own bloody sword." He paused, his good cheer very hard to hide. "Happens all the time in these fucking tourneys."
After a brief tense moment, the wary Stark guards chose to shake their heads as they started on their way back.
"That's for Lord Stark to decide." One of them remarked, warily staring at the two of them, before gracing his brother's and his companion's corpses with a look. "Hard enough to believe one man did it anyway..." He muttered to himself.
He snorted it in response
"That's what I am afraid of." The other let out with a sigh.
...
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Trying To Get Myself Killed: Westeros Edition by NotAHero101
TV » Game of Thrones Rated: M, English, Humor & Adventure, Robert B., Eddard S., Words: 71k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Nov 25, 2021 Updated: Oct 6, 2023
279Chapter 6
It was a weary, and rather tired Eddard Stark that made his way to the Tower of the Hand- the dark night's moon peeking through his windows, the affairs of... Everything was heavy on his head.
Truth to be told, most of the affairs involved the... Messenger from the gods. The messenger that the gods he had prayed to for as long as he could remember had seen fit to send. Seen fit to deal with Westeros.
The very fact it had been in this day and age, as opposed to the previous man to hold the crown, was a worrying thought all on its own.
For what madness could possibly eclipse that of the Targaryens? Worse, what madness had his oldest friend, with the crown at his beck and call, somehow fallen to?
Madness plenty it seemed. If the words of the messenger proved true if the words he'd heard that fateful day when he'd first met him. The words of the stranger his daughter direwolves had led him to, words that proved honest.
A man who knew of an impossible memory. The dying plea, echoed by his long-dead sister.
Of treacherous knowledge, and ominous warnings.
And frankly, having spent enough time taking heed of the crown prince, taking heed of his mother and her brother...
All he felt was anger.
Anger at their duplicity, their dishonor. Their vile treachery.
It wasn't enough that they practiced the same... The thought made him urge for a bucket to pour his dinner into. It wasn't enough that they laid with one another- The queen had seen fit to provide Robert, the crown, the kingdom, children born out of incest, out of-
He took in a deep breath.
What was the point of the war they fought? What was the point of his father and brother's death? Of Elbert Arryn's? Of the countless number of soldiers, loyal and otherwise?
What was the point of all that needless death, if in the end, the bloody Lannisters had seen fit to continue the same madness that had led to a war the likes of which Westeros hadn't seen for decades!?
The Lannisters whose only inclusion, whose only help in the rebellion was to sour it, to twist its purpose thanks to the hands of Tywin Lannister.
The murder of children. The sacking of a city.
And in the end, they had been rewarded with a queen. In the end, they had been given a far bigger honor than was their due.
And this was how they repaid it?
If not for the tales of the White Walker's return, a tale that truthfully was the only thing that kept him somewhat sane with the revelations of the Gods intervention, he would've marched into the red keep and denounced the Lannisters for their treachery, and more than likely instigated a war then and there.
Truth be told, he had been glad when he had heard of the Mountain's gruesome death. Had been more than happy to cement the lie that it was an accident, even if Robert knew the truth himself. Even if the vile queen cried for justice of all things.
In the end, it had been easy to see why even Robert wouldn't have gone with the truth, even if it had been staring at him in the face.
Even if it had been the result of someone he hadn't taken a liking to.
To tell the court that a single man, half the size of the mountain, had leisurely walked into the man's tent, openly taunted them all into killing him, and proceeded to gut them all like rats.
With a dagger.
Even jaime Lannister, his... Everything be damned, had looked in horror at the idea of a single man that could do such a thing- Even he had begrudgingly accepted that it must've been an accident, for anything else was... Well. Too much to bear thinking to a man who had spent his life trying to reach the level of skill necessary to do so, to believe a stranger half his age in appearance able to pull it off.
It would've been madness. For that was what the court would've seen. They would've seen Robert going down the same road that led to the Targaryen madness that had long befell the former king.
It was only as he settled into his seat, in the tower, that Eddard Stark finally noticed the letter on his desk.
His eyes narrowed, he promptly picked it up and started reading, his eyes growing wider with every line.
'Dear Ned. Can I call you Ned? I am gonna call ya Ned. See, Ned, killing the Mountain, and well, getting away with it-'
He couldn't help the tension in his shoulders as his mind could only grasp the meaning of such words.
While Robert had been lenient in declaring it an accident, he'd made it expressively clear that there would be no more- At least not until the damned tourney was over.
Though he supposed the Messenger could always ask for a trial by combat- One he'd very likely win to clear his name for whatever overdue justice he more than likely intended- He shook his head, the hard part would be convincing the man to actually ask for one, instead of cheerily walking up to the bloody headsmen block.
'- I figure, given your noble status, that I have far more freedom compared to the bloody hand of the king! Which isn't saying much- When ya wanna die, there's very little to dissuade you!'
He could practically feel the forming headache, his mind half a second away from ordering another detail of guards to go searching for the mad seer.
Though truthfully, considering what he revealed to him, a small part of him was starting to understand his wish for death.
The man had no attachments, no reasons to help the realm, and by all accounts, death was likely to lead to something better for him.
At the very least, Eddard Stark supposed, the man had been generous enough to warn him of the treachery that likely would've taken months- And on the account of the White Walkers, would've taken too long to learn of regardless of when, or even if, he ever found out.
'-So, I figured, why not solve some of your problems for you? Go on a good ole' fashioned killing spree! Here's a list of the coming corpses, and their crimes! Though, by the time you read this letter, I reckon they'll already be dead- When you hear the bells toll, know that I likely won't be in the city anymore, so don't waste your poor guards' breath! Oh, and try to keep bobby alive will you?'
"...Oh... No..." The words escaped his mouth as he read on.
'Tommen ain't ready for the crown just yet.'
He blinked once, twice, and a third time for good measure at the line he'd just read.
The sinking feeling in his chest grew-
The Messenger was advocating to keep a spawn of incest on the throne?
Could he? With all that he knew? Would he allow such a thing?
Honor and duty determined that he warn Robert, that he rightfully claim that Stannis, until a true heir was born, deserved the throne should the King, gods forbid, fall...
Yet... What right did he have to question a messenger of the gods themselves?
It took him a second later to realize the true implications as he stiffened.
What of Joffrey? If the messenger claimed that he ought to keep- Why not Joffrey? He was the elder.
Yet, just as his eyes went further down, towards the list- Just as his ears picked up the sound of the bells tolls in the distance, his stomach sinking further...
As he stared pointedly at the list of names...
He knew then and there, that he would need to prepare. Would need to call the banners.
For Tywin Lannister was, without a doubt, going to march on the capital.
His guard's echo promptly took him out of his stupor, Eddard's gaze swiveling towards the hurried, gasping man at arms at his door.
"Milord!" There was a stricken look on his face. "The King has called for a council!"
A single beat passed, one he dared not interrupt as he watched the man gasp for air.
"The royal family has been struck! The Queen- The prince!" There was pure horror on the man's face.
With a single wave of his hand, Eddard pointedly walked past the man, his footsteps hurried, even as his mind failed to comprehend the turn of events.
A small part of his mind idly wondered if the Kingslayer's body would be found next?
If the Master of Coin, his wife's childhood friend, and the man responsible for his foster father's death, already had a knife in his neck?
If Armory Lorch, the man who killed a child, former royalty aside, gruesomely, was dying this very instant? With the whole of Kingslanding focused on the royal family...
A city in chaos was ample grounds for a dagger in the night to do its job.
He visibly shook, entirely unsure, nor prepared to deal with the fallout.
With the blessing that had fallen into his lap.
No disgrace would be necessary- Perhaps a war could be avoided entirely in truth, and the honor of the throne upheld... The coming White Walkers... While an ominous threat all the same, it would be better handled if the full might of Westeros didn't descend into war before it came upon them.
Tommen... And Stannis's girl would do enough to truly keep Baratheon blood on the throne.
Perhaps even persuade Stannis himself, should his brother be the one to tell him.
Though he abhorred the idea of killing a child... The words, the crimes, and the madness that the letter spoke of regarding Joffrey Barath- Lannister was... For the gods themselves to consider him a blight when even Aerys had been allowed to live far longer than he deserved said quite a bit on the boy's mind.
He shook his head.
The dreaded letter was still in his hands.
The dreaded letter, urging him to pin the blame on the messenger himself, if only to halt the coming war, by the barest of days. The dreaded letter that was signed off by the man's true, albeit strange, name. And its meaning.
The letter he would likely need to have burnt... Or used as the proof needed to halt a war... Though certain parts may need to be covered up, or removed entirely-
He shook his head, he would worry about it after the coming meeting, his mind instead focused on the immediate future.
For Karma had come to Westeros, the gods' divine justice.
...
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