6 Fighting and Viewing The Fight

I'd been riding alongside Sansa's carriage when I'd first heard the commotion up front. It started with a shout I didn't even bother to react to - a warning from one of the forefront infantrymen. It wasn't unusual to hear it every now and then when they warned people to move off the pathway and out of the King's procession.

Yet unlike all the other times when it only took one shout of warning, this time the first shout was followed by a second and a third.

All until one shout finally got my full attention.

"BANDITS! PROTECT THE ROYAL FAMILY!" a particularly loud sergeant roared and I spared one look to Sansa before I spoke.

"Keep the door closed and the guards will protect you, Sansa. I will be back soon after the problem is solved," I spoke to her, her eyes worried yet her expression steeled as she nodded to me, closing the open door through which we were communicating through. Looking to the nearby guards, I pointed to the carriage, "Guard it with your life. If even a scratch is found on her, you'll get much worse," I growled a threat, matching it with a serious glare, before I signaled to Wisp to speed up into a full on gallop.

She shot through the air, her hooves barely touching the ground before she'd pushed further across the path below.

The procession to the side of me was also a blur of movement, both due to Wisp's speed and due to the fact that the infantrymen were moving on their own, forming into a formation with their shields raised their weapons drawn.

But my attention wasn't on them, it was on the sixty or so bandits coming over the incline in front of us. As I arrived at the front of the procession, to the side of the infantry there, I leaned back on the seat and my horse slowly exited the gallop they were in and slowed to a stop before huffing in slight exertion.

I turned my eyes to the bandits and got to thinking.

They lined up in front of us, maybe thirty of so meters between us, and I found myself wondering what their plan and motive was. They must know that they've signed their own death warrant if they want to rob the King. Worst of all, we even have Ned Stark and his daughters with us - if harm came to either him or his daughters, these bandits would be hunted and hated by everyone in the North. That isn't considering the treason of trying to steal from the King which would lead to parties rising from all of the Seven Kingdoms in an effort to secure some sort of ransom.

Which led me to one conclusion - these people had been set on us by a third party who promised them safeguarding in whatever lands that person owned. Either they'd lied to the bandits and would kill them afterwards or this person was one of renown. From one of the major houses.

This doesn't fit the Tyrells motif. They're more about poison and discrete schemes - the type you don't find out about until you're about to die, choking on your own food and wine.

Doesn't fit Dorne either. There isn't much enmity between them and the crown just yet. Neither would the Crownlands, Riverlands, Westerlands or Stormlands send bandits after us because each of them have beneficial ties to those in this procession. The Crownlands are owned by the King, so they can't send bandits. The Riverlands' Lord House is House Tully, who wouldn't set wild bandits on Catelyn Stark's children Sansa and Arya who are both of Tully heritage. Westerlands are ruled by the Lannisters and Tywin isn't so stupid as to attack us outright either. The Stormlands love Robert, as well, so they wouldn't commit treason.

The wind coming from behind the bandits allowed me a whiff of what they smelled like. Mostly dirt and bad body odor, but I also smelled something a little more unique. Salt. The sea.

...They'd come from the Iron Islands. Someone was most likely giving information to Balon who was keen to get revenge for his ruined rebellion. But who would join hands with those band of rapists and thieves? I'll have to capture a few of them for interrogation.

My thoughts, per usual, were quick and barely a second had passed before I squeezed Wisp's body tightly with the inside of my legs, spurring her on into a gallop again.

The bandits saw this as a start and I felt my heart begin to thrum in my chest, beating like an unstoppable engine inside my chest, the movements sending thunderous vibrations through my ribcage. Reaching down to the side as Wisp galloped, I brought up my two longswords and looked back to the bandits before nodding. They'd be enough.

My ears were abuzz with sounds as the infantry behind me began charging while the bandits in front of me roared in a pathetic attempt to scare me and/or my horse. It didn't work and I continued my charge.

I wasn't wearing much armor unlike my uncle who was fully clad in plate. I hadn't expected us to be attacked, which was on me for relying too much on foreknowledge. Yet I wasn't without armor either. I was wearing boiled leather armor over chain mail and a padded jacket. It would be enough for this ragtag group of Iron Born.

When the distance between Wisp and the bandits was as short as four meters, I pulled on the reins and leaned to the side to signify a turn. Wisp followed the instructions, her hooves skidding across the pathway as I moved my left leg over the horse's head and rotated on the saddle to face the bandits. Time seemed to slow down as my vision sharpened and my POV seemed to expand, my peripheral vision bordering on inhuman.

I planted my feet against the side of Wisp and pressed off her, drawing my longswords as I rocketed through the air. As soon as I'd done that, Wisp was already galloping off the side, turning around and heading back to the carriage where Sansa had been. Clever horse.

Yet such thoughts were quickly banished as I was now barely gliding above the first line of bandits.

Before any of them could react, I placed my feet that I'd tucked into my chest outwards as I was falling down. They impacted an unlucky bandits chest and his body crumpled under the force of my momentum. I was 6'6" and must've weighed upwards of 100kg. Put that with the momentum built from pushing off of my galloping horse and my superhumanly strong leg muscles...and the guy never stood a chance.

He hit the floor and I rode him like a skateboard for a few feet before I exploded off of his caved in chest, my destination a bandit right next to me.

I brought my right sword forward, blocking a particularly quick bowman's arrow, deflecting it so it harmlessly passed by my face and was fired into the crowd of bandits behind me. My left sword, as if it had a mind of it's own, blurred across a man's throat like a snake lunging for his carotid artery.

He dropped to the floor not even a moment, later, his sword and shield forgotten and dropped to the floor as he grabbed at his neck that was torn open and leaking blood.

I dodged backward seamlessly dodging two more arrows and I spun round, slicing with my two swords in tandem and catching two more bandits unaware as I carved open their torsos.

My blood was pumping faster and faster and I could feel the effects of adrenaline flooding my body, carried by the increasingly faster flow of blood through my veins. I felt a savage smile come across my face as I thought that maybe against this many people I could really let loose on some of my pent-up energy.

. . .

POV Change - Ned Stark

Actual madmen. Bandits without brains.

Why would I say so? Because they'd attacked Robert's procession and that alone was enough to get them hunted by all in the Seven Kingdoms who were looking for gold. Let alone that Robert was known for being heavy with his rewards, I'd reward them equally if they could find and catch these people.

Why didn't I just kill them here and now? There were too many of them and a handful would no doubt be able to run away.

But that didn't stop the anger that was dwelling in my gut from wanting to break free and slaughter these fucking bastards. It was bad they'd decided to attack me but I could deal with that. It wasn't the first time I'd been attacked or in a fight for my life. No, I was only so utterly furious because there was the chance my daughters could be pulled into this.

Which is why I rushed to their carriage first, urging my horse to move as quickly as possible. To my relief, they were safe, six guards standing around the carriage dutifully, looking for any dangers that may be coming for them.

Though I saw that Prince Tommen wasn't there, I did see his horse grazing next to the carriage without a care in the word. This...confused me somewhat.

I was sure that the Prince would no doubt participate in the battle. He didn't strike me as a coward. Yet, if he was in battle, why was he not fighting on horseback? It posed a question that wasn't solved until I rode up to the front of the procession where the fighting was underway.

I saw Prince Tommen, wielding two longswords, weaving in and out of engagements with a speed and explosiveness that belied his size.

He moved from bandit to bandit, attacking, blocking, parrying and even deflecting arrows fired at him. He usually ended each engagement within an attack or two, and more often than not, his opponent would be dead by this point. As I watched, I saw him take a half-step backward out of a downward slash, blocking an attack that would have skewered his side, returning with a thrust that killed the attacker before stepping back to his original place and planting a kick into his original attackers chest that caved the bandit's chest inward and sent them flying backward as they coughed up mouthfuls of blood.

...He was a monstrous combatant. He moved in a strong and meaningful way yet it was also fluid and surprisingly light. It didn't look like he was fighting either, and I suddenly remembered a quote about his teacher. A title of sorts.

''A painter who only used red.''

It would seem he'd taught his squire, the prince, to do just as he did. Because right now, it seemed more like Prince Tommen was making a piece of art than he was killing bandits. He made the act like hauntingly beautiful. And the way he dual-wielded those longswords reminded me of someone I'd much rather forget. A memory of a black-haired Dornishman who wielded two swords. A man who died outside the Tower of Joy.

Prince Tommen's job was made all the more easier by the fact the bandits had to concentrate more on the infantry attacking them than dealing with him. Which allowed him to sow disorder in their ranks, his powerful and blindingly fast slashes taking more than a third of the bandits' lives.

They couldn't stop him, no matter the weapon or tactic used. Arrows seemed like they could hit him, he skillfully disarmed people with larger weapons and sometimes even shattered weapons with wooden shafts like spears and other such polearms.

With the deadly combination of the infantry and Prince Tommen...the fight was soon over.

Like I'd thought, a few of the bandits tried to run but they held no hope of outrunning the prince. His long legs elegantly and effortlessly carried him across the ground like a Shadowcat* and he sliced each of them on the back of their legs. Not deep enough to amputate them but still deep enough to make it so running or escaping would no longer be possible.

(*A/N - Shadowcats are basically the Tigers/Mountain Lions of 'Game of Thrones'. Except their fur is black and they have white stripes.)

When they were dropped to the floor, screaming in pain, Prince Tommen gave each of the downed bandits a kick to the back of the head, knocking them out but leaving them alive.

Whoever wasn't caught by the prince were shot by archers among the infantry, being taken out unceremoniously and left filled with arrows like hedgehogs. I'd bargain that they were the lucky ones - there was only one reason to take your enemy alive, after all.

As it was all done and over with, that only left Prince Tommen surrounded by corpses.

He was covered in blood. His face, his armor, his weapons--all of it had at least a few splatters of blood and gore on it.

Gone was the youth who talked about cooking and reading. The kind young man who'd helped my son, Bran. The one who smiled gently at my daughter Sansa. Right now, right here, was Prince Tommen Baratheon, an extraordinary warrior who moved like no human should be able to. He held none of the kind and understanding aura he usually did, and he instead gave off the feeling of an angry Lion's barely controlled fury.

...It had been many years since I'd felt fearful of another man's martial prowess, and I felt no shame in admitting said fear when I looked at the prince right now.

Power and speed and death, all rolled into one entity.

. . .

POV Change - Tommen Baratheon

Pouring the barrel toward me, the freezing cold water hit my face and washed away the drying blood. Sighing in relief, I bent back down and moved the barrel through the flowing river below once more before pouring it over myself again.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy fighting. I'd practically been taught to find some enjoyment in the act of crossing weapons with another. Without that enjoyment and that drive, most swordsmen only ever end up mediocre in their skills, but with it, the skies the limit.

But I didn't enjoy being covered in blood and gore. I hated it.

The ever present warmth of the stuff and the knowledge that it belonged to someone else moments prior was more than enough to sour my mood. Even if only a little.

Right now, washing myself of the blood, I was reminded of the first time I took a life.

It was around five years ago, and I was out of King's Landing in the surrounding towns with Barristan and a squad of Knights. Barristan had been tasked by Robert to hunt down a particularly nasty hedge Knight who'd turned from a life of tourneys and working for Lords, to being a bandit who raided towns and raped women. He'd gathered himself a small group of similarly minded people and taken to raiding closer and closer to King's Landing.

Being thirteen at the time and having disillusions about my readiness, I begged Barristan to let me come with him on the hunt for the man. Reluctantly, he agreed to it, telling me it would be a good lesson for me.

Fast forward a few weeks of following the trail and we were fighting the hedge Knight and his merry group of misfits.

I was face-to-face with a slim man who looked like he was seconds away from shitting his breeches.

His sword skills were worth shit all and I parried all of his rushed attacks easily enough. When I finally went in for the kill, I went for a quick slash to the throat. You know, a quick, clean kill.

It hadn't been very clean at all.

His blood squirted out and covered my face which had been about eye-level with his neck. It was disgusting, but it was also the day I learnt I don't very much like having blood on me - not that many people probably do, mind you.

Another barrel of cold water poured over me, I felt the old memories returning to the back of my mind as I let out a sigh of relief for the second time. My face and hair actually felt clean now.

Throwing the barrel into the river, I turned my head away from the forest opposite the side of the river I was standing in, as I heard footsteps rushing toward me and the harsh, heavy breath of someone running alongside those steps. My eyes quickly caught sight of Sansa, holding her dress up as she stepped over branches and exposed tree roots in a surprisingly coordinated manner.

But what really caught my eye was how worried she looked. Her eyes looked like they were bordering on tears. I was surprised she cared that much despite the short time we'd known one another - though I did think this might happen.

She'd been raised in this type of setting without any prior experiences with life. Meaning she was fully on board with the ''When you marry someone, learn to love them if you don't already'' mindset most highborn women held. Meaning she'd no doubt sped up the process by being so ready to accept me as her husband and a focus for her love. Now, don't get me wrong, she doesn't love me. Not by any stretch. But I would say she holds some emotional connection to me, made through her own beliefs and the influences Westeros has had on those said beliefs.

Basically, she has a crush. And her crush just fought a group of bandits and rushed off to a nearby river, covered in blood.

She was worried about her crush. Nothing fancy like love or deep romantic feelings.

She surprised me further by the fact she seemed not to care about the river between us as she easily stepped into the water with a splash before making her way toward me. Even as the water wet the bottom of her high-quality blue dress, she continued toward me before she stood in front of me. Then she began looking over me, her hands not minding the more tenacious scant splotches of blood on my body as she wiped them away to see whether it was blood from a wound or not.

This continued, with her walking around me and wiping the blood away with handfuls of water until she'd done a full loop around me and was back standing in front of me and looking up at me with somewhat relieved eyes.

"Why did you rush off so, Tommen?" she said, her voice somewhat shaky, "I feared the worst when I heard from father that you'd rushed so quickly to the nearest river. I thought you'd come to clean your wounds, so I came to offer what little assistance I could...I feel a bit silly now that I know you weren't injured at all."

Hearing her, I smiled down at her and lifted a hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face, "I came here to wash the blood off of myself. I quite dislike the sensation of it on me and it's best to clean it as soon as possible so it doesn't dry and stick to you," I explained and she nodded.

"Though, don't you think you've somehow taken advantage of me?" I smirked teasingly, "You've rushed in on me while I'm only half-dressed, Sansa. However will you repay me?" I joked.

"Ah--!" Sansa seemed to realize I was without a shirt, my upper body bare, and backed up, "I apologize, Tommen--I, uh, didn't mean to--" she stopped when I began laughing out loud.

Taking a step closer to her and cutting the space between us away, I looked down at her and she looked up at me as I spoke to her, "I was only joking, Sansa. We're to be wed one day. As such, someday you'll see much more than just my bare chest," I joked, wiggling my eyebrows for effect and while she blushed at my joke, she also laughed lightly at it.

Things went silent between us for a few seconds and I mentally remarked to myself about how I don't think I'd ever get used to how beautiful she was. Every time I saw her, she looked stunning and each expression she showed me was just a new facet of that striking beauty she held.

"...Thank you for worrying about me, Sansa," I gently smiled at her, lifting her chin a little with my hand and stroking along her jawline and cheek. Her face lit up like a tomato but she didn't pull away from me or my touch. Instead she even seemed to lean into it.

Deciding to go for it, I craned my head down and while making sure she wasn't pulling away in denial, I planted a kiss on Sansa's full, soft lips.

It wasn't a kiss of passion or lust. Just a simple kiss between two people who were attracted to one another. One that Sansa gave back to me as she laid a hand against my chest, resting it against the hard muscle there. The kiss lasted a few more seconds before I pulled back and gave Sansa a small smile. A smile she returned.

Breathing in a lungful of air, I let a content chuckle escape my throat as I bent down and lifted Sansa up into a princess carry. She barely even weighed anything to me.

Sansa yelped when I lifted her, looking toward me with wide blue eyes, "Tommen--?!"

"Now, my lady, I've forced you to wade through a river in your worry for me," I started with a knightly expression, "How could I possibly force you to stay in the water any longer?" I asked, my expression giving way for a toothy smile.

She looked at me for a few more seconds before she giggled and the tension seemed to leak it's way out of her body. Her arms came up and hung around my neck and she rested her head against the crook of my neck. Not another word was said as I began walking through the water toward the riverbank where I'd left my armor, both of us just enjoying the situation we'd found ourselves in.

It was nice.