serra2
Himouto! Sylvanas-chan
She still has her aura and glyphs. So those.pirates would have to be impressive to keep up with her.
A Song of Weiss and Fire
- Thread starter Krieg Schnee
- Start date
Poor schmucks, they will be Weiss' target practice.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
Just found this story.
Very interesting beginning so far.
But I do wonder how long would Weiss be able to hide her Aura and Semblance, before she Is forced to be open about It if she wants greater freedom than what her station carries.
Also, Iet's recall Two things:
Weiss most likely never fought people Without Aura.
It's likely her first experience using Aura against someone without may he more gruesome.
And she Is still has the body of a young girl with no real physical training. Using her Aura should be very taxing at this point
Very interesting beginning so far.
But I do wonder how long would Weiss be able to hide her Aura and Semblance, before she Is forced to be open about It if she wants greater freedom than what her station carries.
Also, Iet's recall Two things:
Weiss most likely never fought people Without Aura.
It's likely her first experience using Aura against someone without may he more gruesome.
And she Is still has the body of a young girl with no real physical training. Using her Aura should be very taxing at this point
1-7
It had been over a decade since Weiss had felt this way, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, running away from men, nay, beasts that wished to kill her or perform unspeakable things on her. The scully maids of the Gold Keep had loose lips, Weiss knew some information on the Ironborn. How they worshiped their Drowned god of the deep sea, how they had raided Lannisport countless times throughout its long history, and how they had burned the city at least thrice. Weiss never thought she would live to see it happen a fourth time, or at least, during Lord Tywin's lifetime. The Old Lion was a fearsome man, intelligent and cold, who suffered no opposers to his rule. Weiss' Father had petitioned the man to open the silver mines of Castamere, to no avail. She personally would've given it to a loyal house, or form another cadet branch from one of the lesser Lannisters. Admittedly, the new owners would've had a significant mess to clean out, but there's no sense wasting good silver by leaving it in the ground.
"Don't look back, My Lady!" Ser Tylan's voice was cold and firm as he covered their retreat. Mother, Alis and Alysanne were just ahead of her, with Robart now taking the lead while holding her Mother's wrist. Even from her position near the back, Weiss could see the shadows of his short sword, dark castle forged steel made out of the finest ores. Its length was perfect for fighting in the tight hallways of the Gold Keep, long enough to kill, but short enough to allow a full swing through the corridors. "Their armor weighs them down, we can outrun them."
That was assuming that those intruders were the only Ironborn in the Gold Keep. A bold, yet likely wrong assumption. In order for these Ironborn to have infiltrated the Gold Keep so quickly, the operation had to have been planned. They must've already been in Lannisport to strike so quickly, but without any proof, they were just guesses and fantasy. All Weiss truly knew was the incompetence of the Lannister guards who allowed so many to enter the Gold Keep. Those who died to the Ironborn should consider themselves lucky, especially if they were at fault for this mess.
"Head back from where we came." Ser Tylan yelled towards Robart, having to raise his voice to be heard over the crying that escaped the throats of Alis and Alysanne. Weiss would have preferred if they cried silently to not attract anymore unwanted attention. There could be more raiders in the keep. "We shall fortify one of the rooms there."
A decent idea, if they holed up in one of the rooms they just passed by, the raiders would likely reach them soon. Weiss could hear their footsteps, faint, but drawing ever closer. If only she had Myrtenaster and was at her full strength in a grown woman's body, she'd easily be able to subdue all of them. Their group soon passed another intersection of corridors, with Weiss giving it a brief glance. She regretted it almost instantly.
She spotted three bodies against the floor, parts of their bodies hidden by the shadows of the night, yet the torches that lit the way revealed a brutality that would've traumarize any other girl her age. It looked like a bloodbath, their Lannister armor half scavenged and caked in blood and gore. The air smelled like iron, as if the Stranger himself was stalking through the walls. Weiss swore she saw a few shadows move, at least four men were hiding in the darkness.
Ser Tylan noticed, and used his body to block her view. "Keep going my Lady, I swore to your Lord Father that no harm would come to you and Lady Ceria, and a knight always keeps his vows." He said in between breaths. Ser Tylan was old, and his chain armor was slowing him down. And yet, he sounded almost excited to be in combat once more.
"We need to stop soon!" Weiss said loudly. They had already lost Joston, Byren and Tarik, Weiss wasn't going to lose Ser Tylan too. Alis and Alysanne were also slowing down, not used to running for their lives, and their crying made their breathing erratic. "If we continue like this they'll just pick us off one by one."
While they had the advantage of knowing the layout of the Gold Keep, Weiss also had no idea how many other raiders had infiltrated the castle, and how many guards were still amongst the living. They needed something to even the odds, a more defensible position for instance.
Robart pauses in front of a single door, and letting go of Mother's wrist, struggled with the keys on his belt for a few seconds before finally unlocking the door. "In here my Ladies." She thought the door looked familiar, but she couldn't place it in the dark and with her worry.
The moment the door creaked open, Weiss heard a loud battle crying coming from behind her. She turned her head at just the right angle to see an Ironborn raider charging straight at them with a long axe, alone, with his beard covered in spittle and drops of red. Ser Tylan immediately pushed Weiss in the direction of the storage room before turning to face the mad man.
"Raaaaagh!" The Ironborn yelled as Ser Tylan stared him down, both hands on the grip of his longsword. The Ironborn was faster, younger, and much larger as he crossed the distance in a few seconds.
Yet, Ser Tylan's sword moved like it was an extension of his own body, not fast, but not too slow. His longsword struck the shaft of the axe, using the Ironborn's slowed movements to move out of the way. Ser Tylan's movements were precise and calculated, he fought knowing his own limitations and using his years of experience.
"Die." Ser Tylan growled, lifting his longsword for an overhead strike. The Ironborn barely lifted his axe in time, Ser Tylan's blade impacted the weapon's shaft, causing it to splinter.
Weiss felt Robart lift her up by her armpits. "Into the room, my Lady, we shall handle it from here." She would've felt embarrassed if this wasn't a matter of life or death.
Weiss nodded slowly as she allowed Robart to guide her away, her eyes never leaving Ser Tylan's back as he kept up his assault. The Ironborn stared at him with confused eyes, while giving ground, his rusted and old chain armor clinging to his body. Relaxing his grip, Ser Tylan gave her a brief side glance.
"I shall see you when this is over, Lady Weiss." He gave her a confident grin as he swiped against the Raider's flailing strike, forming a thin red line across his cheek. The Ironborn yelled in pain and rage. Either at the implied humiliation of being toyed with, or just because his prey wasn't dying as easily as he hoped.
"Die old man!" The Ironborn overextended himself, raising his axe high in the air, giving Ser Tylan his opening. His sword sliced into the gap between the Ironborn's helmet and neck guard. Any others curses or yelled died in his throat as he choked on his own blood. Robart tried hiding the view as Weiss reluctantly entered the room.
"Robart! Go get reinforcements and bring them here. I shall protect the Ladies. Where there is one Squid, more are sure to come." Ser Tylan ordered. Mother, Alysanne and Alis were already in the room, near the back wall. "Bar the door."
Battle cries started to draw closer, causing Ser Tylan to look down the hall with a tight jaw.
"Yes Ser." Robart flashed them a sad smile, while Ser Tylan's large grin was the last thing Weiss saw before the door was closed shut. She felt a surge of hope, before it was smothered in some rage at the sheer idiocy she was seeing.
That dolt! He should've joined them in the room! Weiss wanted to yell and scream at the old knight, yet not a single noise escaped her throat. Why were the people here such idiots and morons? Weiss felt her body shake in rage, the letter opener still hidden in the sleeve of her night gown. She felt someone wrap their arms around her small, thin body.
"I'm here, Sweetling." Mother whispered into her ear in the darkness. It took a few seconds for Weiss' eyes to adjust, her aura allowed her to see better than an average human, but was still inferior to the night vision of a faunus. Mother ran her thumb under Weiss' eyes, wiping away an imaginary tear. She probably thought Weiss was crying due to her shaking. It would make sense, and given her age, was to be expected.
"W-What happens now?" Alysanne was the first to speak up. Weiss gave her a brief glance, her two friends were holding each other's hands, their faces marked by rivers of tear marks. She resisted the urge to sneer at their useless nature, they were kids and never even trained for this. It wasn't their fault, not in the least.
"We wait for relief." Weiss answered, her voice hard. "Casterly Rock must've seen the flames and received Maester Harmune's raven. Lord Tywin must be on his way."
With Father fighting off the Ironborn in Lannisport and the docks, reinforcements from Casterly Rock would be their best hope. Lord Tywin could summon hundreds of knights and riders at a moment's notice, Weiss was sure that help would be coming soon. However, it would take time to muster them, especially with the limited technology. Even with Casterly Rock being just over a mile away, it took time to rally troops and start marching.
A deadly silence soon came over them, allowing Weiss to get a good look at the room, as good as it could be in the darkness. It was a large storage room, filled with blankets and covers that would be in use once Winter arrived. Not a single useful weapon, but it did have a sturdy door for an entrance at least.
The silence was soon disturbed by the sound of metal clanging and fighting, just outside of the door. Weiss balled her hands into fist as she heard Ser Tylan yelling curses through the openings. She closed her eyes shut when the fighting died down after who knew how long. Mother held her even closer, so close that Weiss could feel her breath on the skin of her cheeks.
Someone outside the door started struggling with the doorknob, unable to open it without the key Robart had taken with him. It was probably not a good sign, combined with the silence from Ser Tylan, but she held out some hope. Maybe he'd won?
"Fuck." Weiss heard someone groan, their voice little more than whispers in the back of the storage room. It wasn't Ser Tylan's voice, it sounded cruel and dark, like nails scratching a chalkboard. Well, so much for that hope.
"Just use the axe." Another voice said. Mother gasped, pulled Weiss against the back wall. Not even a second later, a loud thud slammed against the reinforced door, and another, and another.
"Weiss, Alysanne, Alis, get behind me." Mother whispered, using her body to shield the three girls. Alysanne started to sob again, her nose dripping with mucus that leaked down to her mouth. Alis cried silently.
"I don't want to be a salt wife." One of them said in between breaths. She couldn't tell which one, their voices sound alike from all the sobbing and terror.
Soon, after what felt like an eternity, an axe head made its way past the wooden door. Even in the darkness, Weiss could see an eye staring at them from the opening.
"We have some pretty ones in here, Lions by the look of it." Another gravelly voice said before disappearing. The axe head returned in its place as the Ironborn continued their efforts, now properly motivated by an actual prize that appeared to be waiting for them.
"Father above, please grant us your justice." Mother started to pray under her breath, holding an arm out in front of Weiss, as if to shield her. "Mother above, please show us your mercy. May the Warrior defend us and give strength to those who fight for our sake."
Weiss slid the letter opener into her waiting hand, hiding it behind her back.
"Most beautiful Maiden please grant us courage, oh mighty Smith give us your strength." Mother continued her chant when the door finally failed them, bursting open. Mother flinched, but remained steadfast and continued her prayer, her voice wavering.
Four Ironborn blocked the exit, mostly wearing boiled leather and light mail shirts. Only one of them wore a half-helm, battered and bloodied. Half-Helm held the long axe, while the other three held short swords.
"You're right Clud." Half-Helm said, turning his head towards his friend to his left. 'Clud' had a pox marked face with a downward curved nose. "They are pretty ones."
"Hehe." Clud formed a lecherous grin. "I told ya."
"Grab 'em, Darron." Half-Helm pushed the short man to his right forward. "I always wanted a high born salt wife." He had a dagger attached to his belt, still in its sheath.
"Mother." Weiss whispered low enough for the older woman to hear. "Close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you, please."
"W-What?" Mother stuttered, drawn out of her prayer.
"Do it, and cover Alysanne and Alis' eyes too." Weiss stepped around her Mother's arm, walking in the direction of the approaching Ironborn. She didn't turn back to see if her Mother had listened to her.
"That's right, come 'ere girl." Darron, a short man with a thick and bushy black mustache, licked his brown teeth. "Good to know these clawless lions taught you we-"
Weiss launched herself forward, using her aura to enhance the strength in her legs. With the letter opener aimed forward, she sliced into Darron's throat without a second thought. That caused warm, red liquids to coat her hand. Before he had even fallen to the ground dead, Weiss was already on the move. One down, three to go.
She formed a glyph beneath her feet, launching herself in Half-Helm's direction. They hadn't expected her to fight back, much less kill one of them. To be fair, expecting a seven year old girl in Remnant to fight back was unexpected, let alone here. Dropping their guard would be a fatal mistake. With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Weiss jammed the letter opener into Half-Helm's right eye.
"Aagh!" Half-Helm screamed in pain, twisting his head to the side and causing the letter opener to snap in half, leaving Weiss with just the handle. Two down, two to go.
"Damn it." Weiss muttered, throwing away the useless handle and grabbed Half-Helm's spare dagger. She should've used her aura to enhance the letter opener's strength. Half-Helm continued yelling and screaming on the ground, clutching the side of his face with the still impaled blade protruding from his eye like a tower.
Clud and his friend stared at Weiss with wide eyes, confused and frightened by their fellow raiders dying and being gored within the span of a few seconds. Weiss held the dagger in a reverse grip, its handle was too long for her hands, but her aura would ensure she wouldn't drop it. She missed Myrtenaster, this dagger felt foreign in her hands. Weiss preferred rapiers.
"A witch." One of them, not Clud, muttered. Weiss' eyes briefly darted towards her Mother, who was shielding Alysanne and Alis with her body, her blue eyes closed shut. Good, they didn't need to see this right now.
Good, with all the bloodstains that decorated Weiss' nightgown, Mother didn't need anymore stress alongside the threat of being taken a saltwife or killed. Nor did her friends.
"Yah!" Clud suddenly regained his senses, charging Weiss with a wide swing. Weiss dodged it, using her shorter stature to get in close and stabbing the back of his knee with the dagger. It sank into the meat, causing him to stagger and fall forward a bit before regaining his balance.
"Gah." Clud fell to one knee, bringing his short sword back around to try and take off Weiss' head. A quick backstep took care of that, causing the blade to whistle through the air but not hit anything. There was an opening in his elbow, only protected by boiled leather instead of mail.
"Hear me roar." Weiss said coldly, swinging the dagger with all her aura enhanced might, parting Clud's arm from the rest of his body. With the blade strengthened by her aura, it easily sliced into flesh and bone. He stared at her in shock before yelling curses, grasping his stump of an arm. A spray of red coated the two of them. She wasn't too worried, blood loss would take him down, she just had to wait it out.
Weiss was about to finish him off when she sensed a stab in her direction, so she moved her head to the side just enough to allow Clud's friend's short sword to sweep by her. He impaled Clud who kept screaming in pain. Some people just had no luck.
"You four should've attacked me all at once if you wanted to stand a chance." Weiss sighed and narrowed her eyes. Clud's friend tried another swing, but Weiss was faster and her dagger's shorter length allowed her to bury it in his neck without having to adjust its length. Weiss felt his body spray warm liquids onto her cheeks. Three down, one to go.
"M-Monster-" The Ironborn choked out before falling on his side. How ironic, they were the ones who wanted to kidnap Weiss, her Mother, and her friends to rape and do as they pleased. And she was called a monster? Pathetic.
Weiss finally straightened her back with shaky knees, refusing to allow the dagger to slip in between her fingers, just in case any more raiders were bold enough to face them. This wasn't the first time she had killed, Weiss had done so once or twice during the White Fang's invasion of Vale, and during the Breach. She usually didn't see their final moments, and it was hard to remember that the people here were much more fragile due to their lack of Aura. She looked back at Half-Helm, seeing that he'd finally died, or at least whatever graey matter he had inside his head had finally realized he was dead. Four down, all done.
"Weiss? Weiss!" Mother screamed, and a few footsteps later she was fussing over Weiss. "B-Blood! There's so much?" She didn't give the dead bodies another look, Mother already looked like she was about to throw up. She couldn't blame the woman, it was not a pretty sight.
"There is no need to worry, Mother." Weiss gave her a reassuring smile as she wiped a few drops of blood from her forehead with her red stained sleeve. "None of it belongs to me." She felt bad for the maids who would have to clean it, maybe they should have it burned instead. At least it wasn't her outfit back on Remnant, that was considerably more difficult to clean up afterwards.
They were interrupted by the sound of horns and trumpets blasting through the walls, and the loud sound of what could be, hundreds of men pouring into the Gold Keep. Mother licked her dry lips, unsure of what to say. Weiss resisted the urge to make a joke about the cavalry showing up, she wasn't Yang after all.
"You should return to Alysanne and Alis, just in case more Ironborn arrive." Weiss tilted her head to the side cutely, to try and comfort her Mother. Mother nodded slowly, her eyes glazed over and confused as she stumbled back to the two scared ladies. They'd kept their eyes shut even without Mother covering them, so they needed the comfort more, at least at the moment. Maybe later, she'd freak out around her mother.
Weiss turned her attention back to the broken door. She would've preferred a sword, but even with her aura, she wasn't sure how well she would be able to wield it with her current height. The dagger would have to do for now. She grabbed another from Clud's catatonic, if not already dead, body. Two daggers were always better than one, and she was exhausted, not used to having her aura enhance her body.
They lost track of time, with Weiss using all of her strength to keep an eye on the door, when suddenly, she heard the sound of loud footsteps marching. Reinforcements from the Rock? Or was it the other raiders that had infiltrated the Gold Keep?
She relaxed her grip on the daggers, held them too tight and they would fly out of her hands. The marching drew closer, causing Weiss to hold her breath for a few seconds. A familiar face appeared from the right side of the door.
"Robart." Weiss released the breath she was holding. The guard rushed into the room, his eyes confused by the four dead bodies. She could understand why, that was quite a mess, and from someone who was supposedly untrained no less.
"My Ladies! Help has arrived." He flashed them a bruised smile when another figure walked through the door. Robart moved to help Mother and Weiss' friends stand, while casually stomping on the heads of the dead raiders. Evidently he was not going to take any chances with them, seemingly dead or not.
The newcomer wore heavy plate armor, with a golden lion etched onto his red breastplate. The Knight was tall, taller than even Father and thin. His full-helm looked like that of a roaring lion, and hid all but his green eyes which were visible even in the dark. His gaze was aimed at the four dead Ironborn, and the bloody dagger in her hands.
"Did you do this, girl?" His voice was deep, cold, and experienced. He sounded familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn't place him.
"Yes, my Lord." Weiss said respectfully, with a slight nod. For him to wear such expensive and glamorous armor, he must've been from the main Lannister branch. There was no heraldry, just the Lion, so he wasn't a sworn sword, the voice sounded aged and it obviously wasn't her cousin Jaime, but who?
"Impressive." The Knight said, finally removing his helm, revealing an older man with blonde hair that was slowly turning gray. He had a neatly trimmed beard so blonde that it blended in with his skin. "Not many men could take on four warriors and survive, even amongst my best men, even less a young lady such as yourself. Very impressive."
Weiss' eyes widened slowly as she quickly gave him a proper curtsey, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Thank you, my Lord."
It was the proper thing to do when in the presence of the ruler of the Westerlands, Lord Tywin Lannister.
The Old Lion of the West.
A/N
This is the longest chapter in A Song Of Weiss And Fire so far. If I had combined it with the previous chapter, as per my original plan, it would've had over 6 thousand words, maybe even reach 7 thousand.
Longer chapters such as these are only possible with the help of all my readers! We really enjoy reading all of the comments.
"Don't look back, My Lady!" Ser Tylan's voice was cold and firm as he covered their retreat. Mother, Alis and Alysanne were just ahead of her, with Robart now taking the lead while holding her Mother's wrist. Even from her position near the back, Weiss could see the shadows of his short sword, dark castle forged steel made out of the finest ores. Its length was perfect for fighting in the tight hallways of the Gold Keep, long enough to kill, but short enough to allow a full swing through the corridors. "Their armor weighs them down, we can outrun them."
That was assuming that those intruders were the only Ironborn in the Gold Keep. A bold, yet likely wrong assumption. In order for these Ironborn to have infiltrated the Gold Keep so quickly, the operation had to have been planned. They must've already been in Lannisport to strike so quickly, but without any proof, they were just guesses and fantasy. All Weiss truly knew was the incompetence of the Lannister guards who allowed so many to enter the Gold Keep. Those who died to the Ironborn should consider themselves lucky, especially if they were at fault for this mess.
"Head back from where we came." Ser Tylan yelled towards Robart, having to raise his voice to be heard over the crying that escaped the throats of Alis and Alysanne. Weiss would have preferred if they cried silently to not attract anymore unwanted attention. There could be more raiders in the keep. "We shall fortify one of the rooms there."
A decent idea, if they holed up in one of the rooms they just passed by, the raiders would likely reach them soon. Weiss could hear their footsteps, faint, but drawing ever closer. If only she had Myrtenaster and was at her full strength in a grown woman's body, she'd easily be able to subdue all of them. Their group soon passed another intersection of corridors, with Weiss giving it a brief glance. She regretted it almost instantly.
She spotted three bodies against the floor, parts of their bodies hidden by the shadows of the night, yet the torches that lit the way revealed a brutality that would've traumarize any other girl her age. It looked like a bloodbath, their Lannister armor half scavenged and caked in blood and gore. The air smelled like iron, as if the Stranger himself was stalking through the walls. Weiss swore she saw a few shadows move, at least four men were hiding in the darkness.
Ser Tylan noticed, and used his body to block her view. "Keep going my Lady, I swore to your Lord Father that no harm would come to you and Lady Ceria, and a knight always keeps his vows." He said in between breaths. Ser Tylan was old, and his chain armor was slowing him down. And yet, he sounded almost excited to be in combat once more.
"We need to stop soon!" Weiss said loudly. They had already lost Joston, Byren and Tarik, Weiss wasn't going to lose Ser Tylan too. Alis and Alysanne were also slowing down, not used to running for their lives, and their crying made their breathing erratic. "If we continue like this they'll just pick us off one by one."
While they had the advantage of knowing the layout of the Gold Keep, Weiss also had no idea how many other raiders had infiltrated the castle, and how many guards were still amongst the living. They needed something to even the odds, a more defensible position for instance.
Robart pauses in front of a single door, and letting go of Mother's wrist, struggled with the keys on his belt for a few seconds before finally unlocking the door. "In here my Ladies." She thought the door looked familiar, but she couldn't place it in the dark and with her worry.
The moment the door creaked open, Weiss heard a loud battle crying coming from behind her. She turned her head at just the right angle to see an Ironborn raider charging straight at them with a long axe, alone, with his beard covered in spittle and drops of red. Ser Tylan immediately pushed Weiss in the direction of the storage room before turning to face the mad man.
"Raaaaagh!" The Ironborn yelled as Ser Tylan stared him down, both hands on the grip of his longsword. The Ironborn was faster, younger, and much larger as he crossed the distance in a few seconds.
Yet, Ser Tylan's sword moved like it was an extension of his own body, not fast, but not too slow. His longsword struck the shaft of the axe, using the Ironborn's slowed movements to move out of the way. Ser Tylan's movements were precise and calculated, he fought knowing his own limitations and using his years of experience.
"Die." Ser Tylan growled, lifting his longsword for an overhead strike. The Ironborn barely lifted his axe in time, Ser Tylan's blade impacted the weapon's shaft, causing it to splinter.
Weiss felt Robart lift her up by her armpits. "Into the room, my Lady, we shall handle it from here." She would've felt embarrassed if this wasn't a matter of life or death.
Weiss nodded slowly as she allowed Robart to guide her away, her eyes never leaving Ser Tylan's back as he kept up his assault. The Ironborn stared at him with confused eyes, while giving ground, his rusted and old chain armor clinging to his body. Relaxing his grip, Ser Tylan gave her a brief side glance.
"I shall see you when this is over, Lady Weiss." He gave her a confident grin as he swiped against the Raider's flailing strike, forming a thin red line across his cheek. The Ironborn yelled in pain and rage. Either at the implied humiliation of being toyed with, or just because his prey wasn't dying as easily as he hoped.
"Die old man!" The Ironborn overextended himself, raising his axe high in the air, giving Ser Tylan his opening. His sword sliced into the gap between the Ironborn's helmet and neck guard. Any others curses or yelled died in his throat as he choked on his own blood. Robart tried hiding the view as Weiss reluctantly entered the room.
"Robart! Go get reinforcements and bring them here. I shall protect the Ladies. Where there is one Squid, more are sure to come." Ser Tylan ordered. Mother, Alysanne and Alis were already in the room, near the back wall. "Bar the door."
Battle cries started to draw closer, causing Ser Tylan to look down the hall with a tight jaw.
"Yes Ser." Robart flashed them a sad smile, while Ser Tylan's large grin was the last thing Weiss saw before the door was closed shut. She felt a surge of hope, before it was smothered in some rage at the sheer idiocy she was seeing.
That dolt! He should've joined them in the room! Weiss wanted to yell and scream at the old knight, yet not a single noise escaped her throat. Why were the people here such idiots and morons? Weiss felt her body shake in rage, the letter opener still hidden in the sleeve of her night gown. She felt someone wrap their arms around her small, thin body.
"I'm here, Sweetling." Mother whispered into her ear in the darkness. It took a few seconds for Weiss' eyes to adjust, her aura allowed her to see better than an average human, but was still inferior to the night vision of a faunus. Mother ran her thumb under Weiss' eyes, wiping away an imaginary tear. She probably thought Weiss was crying due to her shaking. It would make sense, and given her age, was to be expected.
"W-What happens now?" Alysanne was the first to speak up. Weiss gave her a brief glance, her two friends were holding each other's hands, their faces marked by rivers of tear marks. She resisted the urge to sneer at their useless nature, they were kids and never even trained for this. It wasn't their fault, not in the least.
"We wait for relief." Weiss answered, her voice hard. "Casterly Rock must've seen the flames and received Maester Harmune's raven. Lord Tywin must be on his way."
With Father fighting off the Ironborn in Lannisport and the docks, reinforcements from Casterly Rock would be their best hope. Lord Tywin could summon hundreds of knights and riders at a moment's notice, Weiss was sure that help would be coming soon. However, it would take time to muster them, especially with the limited technology. Even with Casterly Rock being just over a mile away, it took time to rally troops and start marching.
A deadly silence soon came over them, allowing Weiss to get a good look at the room, as good as it could be in the darkness. It was a large storage room, filled with blankets and covers that would be in use once Winter arrived. Not a single useful weapon, but it did have a sturdy door for an entrance at least.
The silence was soon disturbed by the sound of metal clanging and fighting, just outside of the door. Weiss balled her hands into fist as she heard Ser Tylan yelling curses through the openings. She closed her eyes shut when the fighting died down after who knew how long. Mother held her even closer, so close that Weiss could feel her breath on the skin of her cheeks.
Someone outside the door started struggling with the doorknob, unable to open it without the key Robart had taken with him. It was probably not a good sign, combined with the silence from Ser Tylan, but she held out some hope. Maybe he'd won?
"Fuck." Weiss heard someone groan, their voice little more than whispers in the back of the storage room. It wasn't Ser Tylan's voice, it sounded cruel and dark, like nails scratching a chalkboard. Well, so much for that hope.
"Just use the axe." Another voice said. Mother gasped, pulled Weiss against the back wall. Not even a second later, a loud thud slammed against the reinforced door, and another, and another.
"Weiss, Alysanne, Alis, get behind me." Mother whispered, using her body to shield the three girls. Alysanne started to sob again, her nose dripping with mucus that leaked down to her mouth. Alis cried silently.
"I don't want to be a salt wife." One of them said in between breaths. She couldn't tell which one, their voices sound alike from all the sobbing and terror.
Soon, after what felt like an eternity, an axe head made its way past the wooden door. Even in the darkness, Weiss could see an eye staring at them from the opening.
"We have some pretty ones in here, Lions by the look of it." Another gravelly voice said before disappearing. The axe head returned in its place as the Ironborn continued their efforts, now properly motivated by an actual prize that appeared to be waiting for them.
"Father above, please grant us your justice." Mother started to pray under her breath, holding an arm out in front of Weiss, as if to shield her. "Mother above, please show us your mercy. May the Warrior defend us and give strength to those who fight for our sake."
Weiss slid the letter opener into her waiting hand, hiding it behind her back.
"Most beautiful Maiden please grant us courage, oh mighty Smith give us your strength." Mother continued her chant when the door finally failed them, bursting open. Mother flinched, but remained steadfast and continued her prayer, her voice wavering.
Four Ironborn blocked the exit, mostly wearing boiled leather and light mail shirts. Only one of them wore a half-helm, battered and bloodied. Half-Helm held the long axe, while the other three held short swords.
"You're right Clud." Half-Helm said, turning his head towards his friend to his left. 'Clud' had a pox marked face with a downward curved nose. "They are pretty ones."
"Hehe." Clud formed a lecherous grin. "I told ya."
"Grab 'em, Darron." Half-Helm pushed the short man to his right forward. "I always wanted a high born salt wife." He had a dagger attached to his belt, still in its sheath.
"Mother." Weiss whispered low enough for the older woman to hear. "Close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you, please."
"W-What?" Mother stuttered, drawn out of her prayer.
"Do it, and cover Alysanne and Alis' eyes too." Weiss stepped around her Mother's arm, walking in the direction of the approaching Ironborn. She didn't turn back to see if her Mother had listened to her.
"That's right, come 'ere girl." Darron, a short man with a thick and bushy black mustache, licked his brown teeth. "Good to know these clawless lions taught you we-"
Weiss launched herself forward, using her aura to enhance the strength in her legs. With the letter opener aimed forward, she sliced into Darron's throat without a second thought. That caused warm, red liquids to coat her hand. Before he had even fallen to the ground dead, Weiss was already on the move. One down, three to go.
She formed a glyph beneath her feet, launching herself in Half-Helm's direction. They hadn't expected her to fight back, much less kill one of them. To be fair, expecting a seven year old girl in Remnant to fight back was unexpected, let alone here. Dropping their guard would be a fatal mistake. With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Weiss jammed the letter opener into Half-Helm's right eye.
"Aagh!" Half-Helm screamed in pain, twisting his head to the side and causing the letter opener to snap in half, leaving Weiss with just the handle. Two down, two to go.
"Damn it." Weiss muttered, throwing away the useless handle and grabbed Half-Helm's spare dagger. She should've used her aura to enhance the letter opener's strength. Half-Helm continued yelling and screaming on the ground, clutching the side of his face with the still impaled blade protruding from his eye like a tower.
Clud and his friend stared at Weiss with wide eyes, confused and frightened by their fellow raiders dying and being gored within the span of a few seconds. Weiss held the dagger in a reverse grip, its handle was too long for her hands, but her aura would ensure she wouldn't drop it. She missed Myrtenaster, this dagger felt foreign in her hands. Weiss preferred rapiers.
"A witch." One of them, not Clud, muttered. Weiss' eyes briefly darted towards her Mother, who was shielding Alysanne and Alis with her body, her blue eyes closed shut. Good, they didn't need to see this right now.
Good, with all the bloodstains that decorated Weiss' nightgown, Mother didn't need anymore stress alongside the threat of being taken a saltwife or killed. Nor did her friends.
"Yah!" Clud suddenly regained his senses, charging Weiss with a wide swing. Weiss dodged it, using her shorter stature to get in close and stabbing the back of his knee with the dagger. It sank into the meat, causing him to stagger and fall forward a bit before regaining his balance.
"Gah." Clud fell to one knee, bringing his short sword back around to try and take off Weiss' head. A quick backstep took care of that, causing the blade to whistle through the air but not hit anything. There was an opening in his elbow, only protected by boiled leather instead of mail.
"Hear me roar." Weiss said coldly, swinging the dagger with all her aura enhanced might, parting Clud's arm from the rest of his body. With the blade strengthened by her aura, it easily sliced into flesh and bone. He stared at her in shock before yelling curses, grasping his stump of an arm. A spray of red coated the two of them. She wasn't too worried, blood loss would take him down, she just had to wait it out.
Weiss was about to finish him off when she sensed a stab in her direction, so she moved her head to the side just enough to allow Clud's friend's short sword to sweep by her. He impaled Clud who kept screaming in pain. Some people just had no luck.
"You four should've attacked me all at once if you wanted to stand a chance." Weiss sighed and narrowed her eyes. Clud's friend tried another swing, but Weiss was faster and her dagger's shorter length allowed her to bury it in his neck without having to adjust its length. Weiss felt his body spray warm liquids onto her cheeks. Three down, one to go.
"M-Monster-" The Ironborn choked out before falling on his side. How ironic, they were the ones who wanted to kidnap Weiss, her Mother, and her friends to rape and do as they pleased. And she was called a monster? Pathetic.
Weiss finally straightened her back with shaky knees, refusing to allow the dagger to slip in between her fingers, just in case any more raiders were bold enough to face them. This wasn't the first time she had killed, Weiss had done so once or twice during the White Fang's invasion of Vale, and during the Breach. She usually didn't see their final moments, and it was hard to remember that the people here were much more fragile due to their lack of Aura. She looked back at Half-Helm, seeing that he'd finally died, or at least whatever graey matter he had inside his head had finally realized he was dead. Four down, all done.
"Weiss? Weiss!" Mother screamed, and a few footsteps later she was fussing over Weiss. "B-Blood! There's so much?" She didn't give the dead bodies another look, Mother already looked like she was about to throw up. She couldn't blame the woman, it was not a pretty sight.
"There is no need to worry, Mother." Weiss gave her a reassuring smile as she wiped a few drops of blood from her forehead with her red stained sleeve. "None of it belongs to me." She felt bad for the maids who would have to clean it, maybe they should have it burned instead. At least it wasn't her outfit back on Remnant, that was considerably more difficult to clean up afterwards.
They were interrupted by the sound of horns and trumpets blasting through the walls, and the loud sound of what could be, hundreds of men pouring into the Gold Keep. Mother licked her dry lips, unsure of what to say. Weiss resisted the urge to make a joke about the cavalry showing up, she wasn't Yang after all.
"You should return to Alysanne and Alis, just in case more Ironborn arrive." Weiss tilted her head to the side cutely, to try and comfort her Mother. Mother nodded slowly, her eyes glazed over and confused as she stumbled back to the two scared ladies. They'd kept their eyes shut even without Mother covering them, so they needed the comfort more, at least at the moment. Maybe later, she'd freak out around her mother.
Weiss turned her attention back to the broken door. She would've preferred a sword, but even with her aura, she wasn't sure how well she would be able to wield it with her current height. The dagger would have to do for now. She grabbed another from Clud's catatonic, if not already dead, body. Two daggers were always better than one, and she was exhausted, not used to having her aura enhance her body.
They lost track of time, with Weiss using all of her strength to keep an eye on the door, when suddenly, she heard the sound of loud footsteps marching. Reinforcements from the Rock? Or was it the other raiders that had infiltrated the Gold Keep?
She relaxed her grip on the daggers, held them too tight and they would fly out of her hands. The marching drew closer, causing Weiss to hold her breath for a few seconds. A familiar face appeared from the right side of the door.
"Robart." Weiss released the breath she was holding. The guard rushed into the room, his eyes confused by the four dead bodies. She could understand why, that was quite a mess, and from someone who was supposedly untrained no less.
"My Ladies! Help has arrived." He flashed them a bruised smile when another figure walked through the door. Robart moved to help Mother and Weiss' friends stand, while casually stomping on the heads of the dead raiders. Evidently he was not going to take any chances with them, seemingly dead or not.
The newcomer wore heavy plate armor, with a golden lion etched onto his red breastplate. The Knight was tall, taller than even Father and thin. His full-helm looked like that of a roaring lion, and hid all but his green eyes which were visible even in the dark. His gaze was aimed at the four dead Ironborn, and the bloody dagger in her hands.
"Did you do this, girl?" His voice was deep, cold, and experienced. He sounded familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn't place him.
"Yes, my Lord." Weiss said respectfully, with a slight nod. For him to wear such expensive and glamorous armor, he must've been from the main Lannister branch. There was no heraldry, just the Lion, so he wasn't a sworn sword, the voice sounded aged and it obviously wasn't her cousin Jaime, but who?
"Impressive." The Knight said, finally removing his helm, revealing an older man with blonde hair that was slowly turning gray. He had a neatly trimmed beard so blonde that it blended in with his skin. "Not many men could take on four warriors and survive, even amongst my best men, even less a young lady such as yourself. Very impressive."
Weiss' eyes widened slowly as she quickly gave him a proper curtsey, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Thank you, my Lord."
It was the proper thing to do when in the presence of the ruler of the Westerlands, Lord Tywin Lannister.
The Old Lion of the West.
A/N
This is the longest chapter in A Song Of Weiss And Fire so far. If I had combined it with the previous chapter, as per my original plan, it would've had over 6 thousand words, maybe even reach 7 thousand.
Longer chapters such as these are only possible with the help of all my readers! We really enjoy reading all of the comments.
Ironborn: "We need an adult!"
Weiss: "I am an adult."
Oh yeah, in ASOIAF, knights have cool and unique helmets that stand them out from the regular soldiers, and they strike fear into the hearts of men.
Should Weiss decide to wear armor, she might wear a helmet that of her summoned Giant Knight from her Glyphs.
Looks like Tywin Lannister acknowledged Weiss after seeing the aftermath of her handiwork. She might see this as an opportunity and capitalize on it, to get back to the closest thing to be a Huntress in her previous life.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
Yeah, Weiss won't be able to hide her Powers for too long. Specially now with Tywin himself seeing the aftermath and right away thinking something doesn't add up.
No 7 year old, Let alone a girl with no formal training, could have killed 4 Ironborn raiders.
Tywin Will ask/demand explanations.
But hey, Tywin never was someone Religious, specially after the Death of Joanna.
If Weiss, a Lannister, even from a cadet branch, Is truly special. He Will Use it.
...even if it's only with the idea of Weiss being married to someone martially competent to get children just as capable.
No 7 year old, Let alone a girl with no formal training, could have killed 4 Ironborn raiders.
Tywin Will ask/demand explanations.
But hey, Tywin never was someone Religious, specially after the Death of Joanna.
If Weiss, a Lannister, even from a cadet branch, Is truly special. He Will Use it.
...even if it's only with the idea of Weiss being married to someone martially competent to get children just as capable.
Nerrevarrine
Formerly of House Indoril
- Location
- Stranded in Akavir
He better hope he's smart enough to see Weiss as a warrior. Any reasonable characterization of Weiss will object violently to being arbitrarily paired off to be a baby mommy, even if she accepts that political marriage is a reality of her new life.
I don't think we have to worry about that though. Weiss just killed four fully armed and armored men as a seven year old with a letter opener. You'd have to be some sort of moron to see that and think "this seems like someone to manipulate through abuse." He's gonna want Weiss to like him, if only to mitigate the risk of being shanked.
Making Tyrion's life miserable aside, Tywin would want to win Weiss over and see what her "magic" can do if it can prove beneficial for House Lannister when she gets older and properly trained. Such power she possessed would make her a one-woman army against enemy knights and soldiers in battle. Especially none of them have Aura protecting them from her, their bodies are as weak as paper mache.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
Not in the near future.
Maybe by the time the War of the Five Kings (if) happens.
I would argue her Aura Is beyond what her body can actually take until she Is much older and trained.
Besides, most RWBY fights where More of often than not short-lived.
It's likely she wouldn't be able to keep up her feats if the battle prolongues to long, ending up fatigued and vulnerable.
Of course Weiss Is Smart enough to realice her current and possible limitations.
She Is a Game-changer, but alone can't win Wars
1-8
Lannisport was in flames, the outward edges of the city closest to the sea were burning in the distance, and the Lannister fleet was busy sinking to the bottom of the port, with whatever was left above the water on fire. From the balcony that was attached to his solar, Tywin stared into the flames with a tight jaw, lifting a glass of mulled wine to his lips. He took a small, calculated sip before returning it to his cupbearer, a young Crakehall boy, a cousin to Ser Lyle Crakehall who was still within the walls of Casterly Rock.
"Dramen, you fool." Tywin said blankly, in a tone one could mistake for apathy, save for a low undercurrent of absolute rage. Whoever organized this attack was an idiot if they thought they could do so freely, without any sort of pushback. They insulted Tywin, attacking his bannermen and distant kin, they insulted House Lannister, burning his fleet and attempting to sack Lannisport, the largest city in the Westerlands which rivaled King's Landing and Oldtown. The doors to his solar creaked open, with what sounded like half a dozen footsteps following. Tywin kept his hard eyes focused on the burning docks.
"Brother." It was Kevan who spoke up, his voice grave and serious. "We have received a raven from the Gold Keep, the Ironborn wish to sack the city. Lord Dramen calls upon Casterly Rock for help." Well, that answered the question of who would be stupid enough to think this was a 'smart' idea. For a given definition of smart in any event.
"And Casterly Rock shall answer." Tywin said coldly. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a city sacked for a city sacked. If Balon Greyjoy wanted a war, then he shall have it. He finally turned around. Kevan, Gerion and Tygett were both standing behind his desk, all in varying stages of undress. Kevan was already in plate armor, a full-helm in his hands. "Tygett, marshal every rider, available or not and Kevan, I leave you to muster our foot. Gerion, I leave you in command of the Rock until my return. Double the guard, the only Greyjoys I shall in here will be in the dungeons, or have their heads on spikes."
Gerion, his youngest brother, had his trousers sagging along with a shirt that was several sizes too big. His pale face was red, with dark markings along his neck and shoulder. Tywin gave him a sharp glare. Gerion had brought that whore back into the Rock once more had he? His brother's usual lazy grin was gone, replaced by a dower glare, one that Tygett imitated. Tygett had managed to make himself presentable, with a red doublet with a golden lion etched on it.
"As you command." Kevan responded, crossing an armored hand over his chest. He moved to leave, leaving him alone with Gerion and Tygett, but paused when Tywin slowly raised a hand to stop him.
"We leave when I give the word, no sooner and no later." Tywin continued. "We are not common rabble that shall charge in a disorganized manner without a battle plan, we are Lannisters."
And Tywin's reputation was ruined with the burning of Lannisport, if he did not proactively take steps to ensure nobody was going to perform a repeat. Evidently people's memories of the Reynes and the Sack had faltered a bit, so he felt a need to be a bit more creative this time around.. If any Lannister of Lannisport ended up dead or as a saltwife, it would sink even lower. They may not have been members of the main branch, but they still held the name of Lannister. An unprovoked attack on them, was an attack on Tywin himself. He waved them off, his brothers had work to do. Tygett and Gerion left without another word, while Kevan bowed his head ever so slightly.
"Bring my squire." Tywin told the Crakehall boy, who was silently standing in the corner, still holding the goblet of wine. The boy looked up, shocked at being addressed by his superior in such a manner "And have him bring my armor."
"Y-Yes my lord." The boy squeaked like a mouse despite his large size. The Strongboar must've been very disappointed with his kinsman. Still, he was just a boy after all, he would learn. The Crakehall scurried away, leaving Tywin alone in his solar.
The realm would soon know of this embarrassing defeat, yet there was an opportunity at hand, even if it was rather expensive. It seemed that Balon Greyjoy needed to be reminded that Tywin Lannister still had claws, long and sharp enough to cut any squid to shreds with ease. The fool should've learned from the Reynes of Castamere. Tywin narrowed his eyes as he grabbed a quill and an expensive sheet of parchment to write. If that idiot Robert was going to find out, then he would by Tywin's own hand. He felt his jaw tighten as he started to write.
Tywin could already hear that buffoon laughing. Whether at him, or a chance to go out and smash some skulls once more, he was uncertain.
In the end, Tygett had managed to gather four hundred horses, heavily armored knights and lightly armored outriders that should be able to easily run down any unorganized rabble. Kevan gathered double that in foot, drawn from the men-at-arms that were sworn to Casterly Rock, visitors that had brought their entourages, and from nearby garrisons. Even in the night, the banners Crakehall, Marbrand, Brax, Broom and Lorch were easily visible. It was an impressive amount of men, gathered so quickly on such short notice. They were gathered just outside of the south gate, in the direction of Lannisport. Tywin's three brothers were already armored and on horses by the time he arrived, mounted on the finest horse in the Westerlands and wearing an expensive set of armor.
"Brother." Tygett spoke first. His long blonde hair and bushy beard made him look more lion than man. He wore full-plate as all of Tywin's brothers did, with full-helms decorated with lions and lionesses. Two hundred men on horses stood at the edge of the gathered army. Some of the finest knights in the Westerlands were waiting for his orders.
"Take your men and ride for the docks." Tywin said, his horse clopping past his brother, towards the knights chosen as part of the vanguard. "Have your outriders report back how far the Ironborn have penetrated our defenses. Kevan shall follow behind with his foot." Kevan would take half of the foot, heavily armored pikes and swords to drive the entrenched Ironborn out of the streets. He already had his orders, as the most reliable of Tywin's brothers.
"Very well, Brother." Tygett said, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. He could complain all he wanted, but he would still do his duty for the family. He could work with that. He didn't have to like Tywin, just fear the consequences.
"I will take the rest of our men and reinforce the Gold Keep." Tywin's horse continued walking, each step slow to conserve energy for now. "From there I will organize our defenses and deploy reinforcements as needed." Tywin would lead from the rear, he would leave the fighting to the younger and more foolish men. He knew his strengths, and would play to them in the fullest.
"Ser Lyle, you're with me." Tywin said loud enough for the large man, a knight in full armor with a boar on his surcoat, to hear. The Strongboar was a fierce warrior, one of Tywin's best, and easily controlled, unlike Ser Gregor Clegane. Relieving Lannisport would require a delicate knife, not a warhammer that could possibly kill or rape one of Tywin's kinsmen. Ser Lyle would be a worthy bodyguard for this engagement. "Lorch, bring the banner."
"Yes, my Lord!" Ser Lyle boomed, his great-helm echoing his words. He held a long lance in his hands, with a morningstar strapped to his side. He seemed almost eager to kill, but it was restrained. Tempered, one could say.
Ser Amory Lorch, an ugly pig-faced man, who wore unmarked armor approached Tywin, holding the banner with the Lannister sigil high in the air. Their squires carried torches, providing them light until morning arrived. Tygett approached him, his destrier eager for bloodshed. Tywin raised his hand in the air, and after a few seconds, lowered it.
"Casterly Rock!" Tygett yelled, unsheathing his sword and raising it high in the air. With that he charged, his two hundred men following closely behind with their own shouts and battlecries in battle formation.
"Lannister!"
"Hear Me Roar!"
"Death!"
The two hundred horses soon disappeared into the night, just barely visible due to the torches they carried. Tywin's annoyance was hidden by his great-helm, modeled after a lion with ruby eyes. He urged his horse onward, the infantry and other horses behind him. "Forward!"
It was time for a new song to be written.
The streets of Lannisport were cleared by the time Tywin arrived. Honest smallfolk had long barricaded themselves in their dwellings, hoping for the fighting to end before it reached their homes. That didn't matter, if Lannisport had to be burned to ashes in order to create a better, richer city, Tywin would throw the first torch himself. Still, that didn't stop the smallfolk cheering from their windows as Tywin's army entered the city, the gates opened by the members of the City Watch left to guard the rear. It still felt gratifying, knowing all his efforts would be appreciated, even if it was by the sheep of his flock.
"Go on ahead and take a score of riders to the Gold Keep, ensure the area is secured." Tywin ordered Ser Lyle, not even giving the Strongboar a second look. The lions did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, they would do as commanded.
"As you command, Lord Lannister." Ser Lyle boomed before riding off, yelling at the dozens of lances that marched ahead of them. Kevan had already parted ways, leading his four hundred foot to reinforce Tygett and Lord Dramen's forces fighting at the dockyard.
Lorch lowered the banner just slightly, his armored arm likely tired.
"Lower that banner another inch and I shall have you sent into the thickest part of the fighting." Tywin said evenly. Lorch was a bloodthirsty beast, but even monsters had some sort of self preservation. And it would not do to keep them where they would be left unsupervised.
"Yes, my Lord." Lorch responded, his high pitched voice doing little to hide his anxiety. Tywin would've chosen a better, more competent man to hold the Lannister banner, but he needed those men to lead sorties to drive the Ironborn out of Lannisport by the time morning came. If nothing else, Lorch was useful in this aspect.
The rest of the march continued in silence, with knights covering the front, sides, and rear of Tywin's advance, just in case an Ironborn or two decided to be even more daring. The sound of his foot marching, their armor clanging and battle cries from around the city formed what sounded like music. They soon reached the outskirts of the Gold Keep, Ser Lyle and his riders forming a defensive position close to the drawbridge. Tywin's guards opened their ranks, allowing him to push his destrier onward in a trot.
"Why hasn't the drawbridge been lowered?" Tywin gave the moat a glare. A fortress in the middle of the city, the Gold Keep was built centuries ago by the first Lannisters of Lannisport, built to withstand attacks from the Ironborn. Each time they had sacked the city, the Lannisters would rebuild stronger and better, learning from their past mistakes.
"They have not been answering our calls." Ser Lyle explained. He could hear the faint sound of swords clanging and men yelling coming from within the keep.
"Lorch, secure the drawbridge." Tywin narrowed his eyes. Something was not right here. Even if Dramen had been incompetent in defending Lannisport, he should've at least left a heavy guard to ensure the safety of the Gold Keep. If only to preserve his family.
"My Lord?" Lorch was only a few paces behind Tywin, alongside two knights in Lannister armor. Apparently Lorch hadn't learned to stop questioning his betters, and was keen on being in the vanguard.
"Hand the banner to Ser Damion and take the drawbridge." Tywin did not like having to repeat himself. "You do have experience scaling walls, don't you? Take thirty men, that should be more than enough."
Lorch shivered in his armor and nodded as much as he could with his heavy armor. "I shall do as you command, my Lord."
"Bring our crossbows forward, I want no surprises." Tywin started his short ride back to the column of men-at-arms, Ser Lyle following closely behind him. If Lord Dramen had lost the Gold Keep, then he was more incompetent than Tywin had thought.
What an embarrassment to the family. At least he wasn't as bad as the Imp was, but Dramen was rapidly proving himself a equal before too long.
To Ser Amory Lorch's credit, he had quickly taken the walls after commandeering long ladders and crossing the moat. The man was brave enough to scale the walls of the Red Keep, and was the perfect pawn to use. They threw a dead body over the walls, splashing into the waters below. The body turned the nearby water red, and wore a chain shirt over boiled leather, an Ironborn. With the Gold Keep captured, Tywin's organization of Lannisport's defenses would have to be delayed. Especially after a bloody skirmish in the courtyard that had three of his men injured and one dead.
Still, the Ironborn had taken heavy losses before they retreated back into the Keep itself. That was the last thing Tywin needed, a siege within a siege even if he had the advantage of numbers on his side. He remained on his horse, overseeing the men-at-arms that formed a defensive position around him.
"Captain Vylarr, take your men and hunt down those filthy Ironborn that remain." Tywin kept a firm grip on the horses' reins. Ser Lyle had dismounted, and stood a few paces ahead of him, his morningstar in his hands.
A man in Lannister half-plate and mail armor stepped forward, his face hidden by his half-helm. Vylarr kept his hand on the pommel of his sword. Before he could speak, the large set of double doors slammed opened as best as they could. Within seconds two dozen crossbows were aimed at the newcomer, an older, bloodied man wearing Lannister armor. He dropped a bloody short sword on the ground before approaching and dropping to his knees before the wall of armored soldiers.
"M-My Lord! You have arrived just in time." The strange man looked up, attempting to meet Tywin's eyes that were hidden by his great-helm. "M-My Ladies Lannister, the raiders wished to take them as saltwives, they've taken the keep! Lady Lefford and Peckledon as well!" The crazed man rambled and yelled.
The squids wished to take Tywin's kinsmen as saltwives? An insult to all who bore the name Lannister and his bannermen, this was not an insult that Tywin was not going to take lightly. Tonight was just proving that the madness of House Targaryean was causing yet another mess for him to clean up. And this time it wasn't even Aery's fault.
"Do you know where the Ladies are?" Ser Lyle was the one who spoke up. His voice was calm, and yet, there was an undertone of eagerness in it that said he was anxious to fight and kill, actual foes no less.
"Yes! I can lead you to them." The man groveled. Tywin pursed his lips together for a few seconds before dismounting from his horse. He ignored his squire who attempted to help him.
"Lead onwards." Tywin placed a hand on the handle of his ruby encrusted sword.
"My Lord, this could be an attempt to ambush you." Ser Damion approached, his visor lifted. He was not much of a fighter, despite earning the title of 'ser'. Where had the knights of his childhood gone? If any of the knights he'd served with as a squire had seen this excuse for a knight, they'd rip the spurs right off his armor.
"I will not sit here and continue to watch the family name ruined." Tywin kept the growl out of his voice, turning his attention back to the lowly guard. "Lead onward. Ser Lyle, if he attempts to betray us, kill him first." He was sure the Strongboar grinned under his helm.
The Guard bowed his head once more. "Y-Yes my Lord."
Within minutes the halls of the Gold Keep were filled by Lannister soldiers, killing and exterminating any Ironborn they came across like the vermin they were. Robart, as the guard called himself, led Tywin and a score of knights down several twists and turns. Dead guards seemed to litter every hallway, their blood coating the dark walls of the Gold Keep. A waste, but a sign that at least Draven had left a fairly strong garrison in the Gold Keep.
"Through here, my Lords." Robart said loudly, his voice echoing through the corridors as they turned right at the next section. There was a body beside a door that was smashed open. Robart scurried towards the door, popping his head in. "My Ladies! Help has arrived."
Tywin heard the whispering of women not even a second later. Raising a fist, he ordered Ser Lyle and the other knights to remain behind by a few paces and approached the door, grabbing a nearby torch. There were three bodies near the door, not just one.
Two wore old armor, and died with a snarl on their faces. They were several feet apart, and died like animals, as they deserved. The third body was the closest to the door, wearing expensive chain and boiled leather, with a longsword of castle forged steel in his hands. It was an older man, around Tywin's age. His green eyes were still open, yet they held no signs of life, with his chest caved in. He must've been a distant Lantell or Lanny, from a minor cadet branch. He vaguely recognized him from somewhere in his past, but he was not certain where. Still, he had done his duty, and would receive the honors he was due in death.
Without another look, Tywin entered the dark room. Robart was near the back of the room, helping a woman with long silver hair to her feet, along with the two girls that accompanied her. They looked disgusted and were on the verge of vomiting due to the four dead bodies that laid on the ground closest to the entrance. All four laid in a pool of their own blood, with one missing an arm, two with their throats slashed, and another with a broken blade protruding from his right eye.
Tywin felt his eyes drawn toward the only girl standing in the room, her gaze focused on the Lord of Casterly Rock. She was a small thing, her night gown caked in blood and gore. Even with the light from the torches, her white hair was stained red, and the dagger in one of her hands bloody. Her pale hands firmly held onto her two blades, one redder than the other. She looked like she had walked through a warzone.
Yet, what caught his attention the most, was her eyes. Sapphire blue, cold, and unyielding, the girl stared at Tywin without fear. She had her knees slightly bent, ready to pounce like a lion, like a Lannister. For some reason, they sent a slight shiver down his spine, they reminded him of when Ser Clegane had been knighted, he had the same look in his eyes when swearing the oaths.
"Did you do this, girl?" Tywin asked. He doubted that a little girl could take on four full grown men, Ironborn raiders at that, and live to tell the tale. Yet, if she wasn't the one who massacred them, who did? There was no window or other door to the room, and she was covered in blood. A maester would be able to determine how injured she was, and the dead Ironborn.
"Yes, my Lord." The girl said respectfully, bowing her head. At the very least, she knew her place in this world.
"Impressive." Tywin removed his helmet. The girl's cold blue eyes slightly widened in shock, showing she wasn't just putting on a mask. "Not many men could take on four warriors and survive, even amongst my best men, even less a lady such as yourself. Very impressive."
He would play along for now, at least until he had enough proof to prove that it wasn't this little girl that killed those men. She wasn't Jaime, but she could always prove to be useful in other ways. And if she was, well, he could see the advantage of a blade being able to go places where a knight could not go.
"Thank you, my Lord." The girl curtseyed, recognizing him as her overlord. She certainly knew her manners.
"What is your name, girl?" Tywin ignored the knights that entered the room behind him, assisting Robart the lowly guard with the three other ladies. His attention was solely on the waif who had proven to be quite the interesting figure thus far.
"Weiss of House Lannister of Lannisport, my Lord." Lady Weiss said, her light voice even and calm despite all of the death she had seen. She didn't speak like a girl, instead she sounded like a woman far older. "Daughter of Lord Dramen Lannister and Lady Ceria Velaryon." A distant relative then, Dramen's grandmother had been a Lannister of the Rock, one of Tywin's aunts.
How interesting.
A/N
Welcome to another long chapter! We really enjoyed reading and discussing all those comments, it's been fun even when some got really close to guessing some plot points.
Leaving that out there to fuel more guessing, but we won't say who/what idea was getting a bit too close. And like Night_Stalker confirmed, RBJY are somewhere else, and will eventually appear. The circumstances will be a closely held secret for now.
We hope today's chapter was fun!
"Dramen, you fool." Tywin said blankly, in a tone one could mistake for apathy, save for a low undercurrent of absolute rage. Whoever organized this attack was an idiot if they thought they could do so freely, without any sort of pushback. They insulted Tywin, attacking his bannermen and distant kin, they insulted House Lannister, burning his fleet and attempting to sack Lannisport, the largest city in the Westerlands which rivaled King's Landing and Oldtown. The doors to his solar creaked open, with what sounded like half a dozen footsteps following. Tywin kept his hard eyes focused on the burning docks.
"Brother." It was Kevan who spoke up, his voice grave and serious. "We have received a raven from the Gold Keep, the Ironborn wish to sack the city. Lord Dramen calls upon Casterly Rock for help." Well, that answered the question of who would be stupid enough to think this was a 'smart' idea. For a given definition of smart in any event.
"And Casterly Rock shall answer." Tywin said coldly. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a city sacked for a city sacked. If Balon Greyjoy wanted a war, then he shall have it. He finally turned around. Kevan, Gerion and Tygett were both standing behind his desk, all in varying stages of undress. Kevan was already in plate armor, a full-helm in his hands. "Tygett, marshal every rider, available or not and Kevan, I leave you to muster our foot. Gerion, I leave you in command of the Rock until my return. Double the guard, the only Greyjoys I shall in here will be in the dungeons, or have their heads on spikes."
Gerion, his youngest brother, had his trousers sagging along with a shirt that was several sizes too big. His pale face was red, with dark markings along his neck and shoulder. Tywin gave him a sharp glare. Gerion had brought that whore back into the Rock once more had he? His brother's usual lazy grin was gone, replaced by a dower glare, one that Tygett imitated. Tygett had managed to make himself presentable, with a red doublet with a golden lion etched on it.
"As you command." Kevan responded, crossing an armored hand over his chest. He moved to leave, leaving him alone with Gerion and Tygett, but paused when Tywin slowly raised a hand to stop him.
"We leave when I give the word, no sooner and no later." Tywin continued. "We are not common rabble that shall charge in a disorganized manner without a battle plan, we are Lannisters."
And Tywin's reputation was ruined with the burning of Lannisport, if he did not proactively take steps to ensure nobody was going to perform a repeat. Evidently people's memories of the Reynes and the Sack had faltered a bit, so he felt a need to be a bit more creative this time around.. If any Lannister of Lannisport ended up dead or as a saltwife, it would sink even lower. They may not have been members of the main branch, but they still held the name of Lannister. An unprovoked attack on them, was an attack on Tywin himself. He waved them off, his brothers had work to do. Tygett and Gerion left without another word, while Kevan bowed his head ever so slightly.
"Bring my squire." Tywin told the Crakehall boy, who was silently standing in the corner, still holding the goblet of wine. The boy looked up, shocked at being addressed by his superior in such a manner "And have him bring my armor."
"Y-Yes my lord." The boy squeaked like a mouse despite his large size. The Strongboar must've been very disappointed with his kinsman. Still, he was just a boy after all, he would learn. The Crakehall scurried away, leaving Tywin alone in his solar.
The realm would soon know of this embarrassing defeat, yet there was an opportunity at hand, even if it was rather expensive. It seemed that Balon Greyjoy needed to be reminded that Tywin Lannister still had claws, long and sharp enough to cut any squid to shreds with ease. The fool should've learned from the Reynes of Castamere. Tywin narrowed his eyes as he grabbed a quill and an expensive sheet of parchment to write. If that idiot Robert was going to find out, then he would by Tywin's own hand. He felt his jaw tighten as he started to write.
Tywin could already hear that buffoon laughing. Whether at him, or a chance to go out and smash some skulls once more, he was uncertain.
In the end, Tygett had managed to gather four hundred horses, heavily armored knights and lightly armored outriders that should be able to easily run down any unorganized rabble. Kevan gathered double that in foot, drawn from the men-at-arms that were sworn to Casterly Rock, visitors that had brought their entourages, and from nearby garrisons. Even in the night, the banners Crakehall, Marbrand, Brax, Broom and Lorch were easily visible. It was an impressive amount of men, gathered so quickly on such short notice. They were gathered just outside of the south gate, in the direction of Lannisport. Tywin's three brothers were already armored and on horses by the time he arrived, mounted on the finest horse in the Westerlands and wearing an expensive set of armor.
"Brother." Tygett spoke first. His long blonde hair and bushy beard made him look more lion than man. He wore full-plate as all of Tywin's brothers did, with full-helms decorated with lions and lionesses. Two hundred men on horses stood at the edge of the gathered army. Some of the finest knights in the Westerlands were waiting for his orders.
"Take your men and ride for the docks." Tywin said, his horse clopping past his brother, towards the knights chosen as part of the vanguard. "Have your outriders report back how far the Ironborn have penetrated our defenses. Kevan shall follow behind with his foot." Kevan would take half of the foot, heavily armored pikes and swords to drive the entrenched Ironborn out of the streets. He already had his orders, as the most reliable of Tywin's brothers.
"Very well, Brother." Tygett said, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. He could complain all he wanted, but he would still do his duty for the family. He could work with that. He didn't have to like Tywin, just fear the consequences.
"I will take the rest of our men and reinforce the Gold Keep." Tywin's horse continued walking, each step slow to conserve energy for now. "From there I will organize our defenses and deploy reinforcements as needed." Tywin would lead from the rear, he would leave the fighting to the younger and more foolish men. He knew his strengths, and would play to them in the fullest.
"Ser Lyle, you're with me." Tywin said loud enough for the large man, a knight in full armor with a boar on his surcoat, to hear. The Strongboar was a fierce warrior, one of Tywin's best, and easily controlled, unlike Ser Gregor Clegane. Relieving Lannisport would require a delicate knife, not a warhammer that could possibly kill or rape one of Tywin's kinsmen. Ser Lyle would be a worthy bodyguard for this engagement. "Lorch, bring the banner."
"Yes, my Lord!" Ser Lyle boomed, his great-helm echoing his words. He held a long lance in his hands, with a morningstar strapped to his side. He seemed almost eager to kill, but it was restrained. Tempered, one could say.
Ser Amory Lorch, an ugly pig-faced man, who wore unmarked armor approached Tywin, holding the banner with the Lannister sigil high in the air. Their squires carried torches, providing them light until morning arrived. Tygett approached him, his destrier eager for bloodshed. Tywin raised his hand in the air, and after a few seconds, lowered it.
"Casterly Rock!" Tygett yelled, unsheathing his sword and raising it high in the air. With that he charged, his two hundred men following closely behind with their own shouts and battlecries in battle formation.
"Lannister!"
"Hear Me Roar!"
"Death!"
The two hundred horses soon disappeared into the night, just barely visible due to the torches they carried. Tywin's annoyance was hidden by his great-helm, modeled after a lion with ruby eyes. He urged his horse onward, the infantry and other horses behind him. "Forward!"
It was time for a new song to be written.
The streets of Lannisport were cleared by the time Tywin arrived. Honest smallfolk had long barricaded themselves in their dwellings, hoping for the fighting to end before it reached their homes. That didn't matter, if Lannisport had to be burned to ashes in order to create a better, richer city, Tywin would throw the first torch himself. Still, that didn't stop the smallfolk cheering from their windows as Tywin's army entered the city, the gates opened by the members of the City Watch left to guard the rear. It still felt gratifying, knowing all his efforts would be appreciated, even if it was by the sheep of his flock.
"Go on ahead and take a score of riders to the Gold Keep, ensure the area is secured." Tywin ordered Ser Lyle, not even giving the Strongboar a second look. The lions did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, they would do as commanded.
"As you command, Lord Lannister." Ser Lyle boomed before riding off, yelling at the dozens of lances that marched ahead of them. Kevan had already parted ways, leading his four hundred foot to reinforce Tygett and Lord Dramen's forces fighting at the dockyard.
Lorch lowered the banner just slightly, his armored arm likely tired.
"Lower that banner another inch and I shall have you sent into the thickest part of the fighting." Tywin said evenly. Lorch was a bloodthirsty beast, but even monsters had some sort of self preservation. And it would not do to keep them where they would be left unsupervised.
"Yes, my Lord." Lorch responded, his high pitched voice doing little to hide his anxiety. Tywin would've chosen a better, more competent man to hold the Lannister banner, but he needed those men to lead sorties to drive the Ironborn out of Lannisport by the time morning came. If nothing else, Lorch was useful in this aspect.
The rest of the march continued in silence, with knights covering the front, sides, and rear of Tywin's advance, just in case an Ironborn or two decided to be even more daring. The sound of his foot marching, their armor clanging and battle cries from around the city formed what sounded like music. They soon reached the outskirts of the Gold Keep, Ser Lyle and his riders forming a defensive position close to the drawbridge. Tywin's guards opened their ranks, allowing him to push his destrier onward in a trot.
"Why hasn't the drawbridge been lowered?" Tywin gave the moat a glare. A fortress in the middle of the city, the Gold Keep was built centuries ago by the first Lannisters of Lannisport, built to withstand attacks from the Ironborn. Each time they had sacked the city, the Lannisters would rebuild stronger and better, learning from their past mistakes.
"They have not been answering our calls." Ser Lyle explained. He could hear the faint sound of swords clanging and men yelling coming from within the keep.
"Lorch, secure the drawbridge." Tywin narrowed his eyes. Something was not right here. Even if Dramen had been incompetent in defending Lannisport, he should've at least left a heavy guard to ensure the safety of the Gold Keep. If only to preserve his family.
"My Lord?" Lorch was only a few paces behind Tywin, alongside two knights in Lannister armor. Apparently Lorch hadn't learned to stop questioning his betters, and was keen on being in the vanguard.
"Hand the banner to Ser Damion and take the drawbridge." Tywin did not like having to repeat himself. "You do have experience scaling walls, don't you? Take thirty men, that should be more than enough."
Lorch shivered in his armor and nodded as much as he could with his heavy armor. "I shall do as you command, my Lord."
"Bring our crossbows forward, I want no surprises." Tywin started his short ride back to the column of men-at-arms, Ser Lyle following closely behind him. If Lord Dramen had lost the Gold Keep, then he was more incompetent than Tywin had thought.
What an embarrassment to the family. At least he wasn't as bad as the Imp was, but Dramen was rapidly proving himself a equal before too long.
To Ser Amory Lorch's credit, he had quickly taken the walls after commandeering long ladders and crossing the moat. The man was brave enough to scale the walls of the Red Keep, and was the perfect pawn to use. They threw a dead body over the walls, splashing into the waters below. The body turned the nearby water red, and wore a chain shirt over boiled leather, an Ironborn. With the Gold Keep captured, Tywin's organization of Lannisport's defenses would have to be delayed. Especially after a bloody skirmish in the courtyard that had three of his men injured and one dead.
Still, the Ironborn had taken heavy losses before they retreated back into the Keep itself. That was the last thing Tywin needed, a siege within a siege even if he had the advantage of numbers on his side. He remained on his horse, overseeing the men-at-arms that formed a defensive position around him.
"Captain Vylarr, take your men and hunt down those filthy Ironborn that remain." Tywin kept a firm grip on the horses' reins. Ser Lyle had dismounted, and stood a few paces ahead of him, his morningstar in his hands.
A man in Lannister half-plate and mail armor stepped forward, his face hidden by his half-helm. Vylarr kept his hand on the pommel of his sword. Before he could speak, the large set of double doors slammed opened as best as they could. Within seconds two dozen crossbows were aimed at the newcomer, an older, bloodied man wearing Lannister armor. He dropped a bloody short sword on the ground before approaching and dropping to his knees before the wall of armored soldiers.
"M-My Lord! You have arrived just in time." The strange man looked up, attempting to meet Tywin's eyes that were hidden by his great-helm. "M-My Ladies Lannister, the raiders wished to take them as saltwives, they've taken the keep! Lady Lefford and Peckledon as well!" The crazed man rambled and yelled.
The squids wished to take Tywin's kinsmen as saltwives? An insult to all who bore the name Lannister and his bannermen, this was not an insult that Tywin was not going to take lightly. Tonight was just proving that the madness of House Targaryean was causing yet another mess for him to clean up. And this time it wasn't even Aery's fault.
"Do you know where the Ladies are?" Ser Lyle was the one who spoke up. His voice was calm, and yet, there was an undertone of eagerness in it that said he was anxious to fight and kill, actual foes no less.
"Yes! I can lead you to them." The man groveled. Tywin pursed his lips together for a few seconds before dismounting from his horse. He ignored his squire who attempted to help him.
"Lead onwards." Tywin placed a hand on the handle of his ruby encrusted sword.
"My Lord, this could be an attempt to ambush you." Ser Damion approached, his visor lifted. He was not much of a fighter, despite earning the title of 'ser'. Where had the knights of his childhood gone? If any of the knights he'd served with as a squire had seen this excuse for a knight, they'd rip the spurs right off his armor.
"I will not sit here and continue to watch the family name ruined." Tywin kept the growl out of his voice, turning his attention back to the lowly guard. "Lead onward. Ser Lyle, if he attempts to betray us, kill him first." He was sure the Strongboar grinned under his helm.
The Guard bowed his head once more. "Y-Yes my Lord."
Within minutes the halls of the Gold Keep were filled by Lannister soldiers, killing and exterminating any Ironborn they came across like the vermin they were. Robart, as the guard called himself, led Tywin and a score of knights down several twists and turns. Dead guards seemed to litter every hallway, their blood coating the dark walls of the Gold Keep. A waste, but a sign that at least Draven had left a fairly strong garrison in the Gold Keep.
"Through here, my Lords." Robart said loudly, his voice echoing through the corridors as they turned right at the next section. There was a body beside a door that was smashed open. Robart scurried towards the door, popping his head in. "My Ladies! Help has arrived."
Tywin heard the whispering of women not even a second later. Raising a fist, he ordered Ser Lyle and the other knights to remain behind by a few paces and approached the door, grabbing a nearby torch. There were three bodies near the door, not just one.
Two wore old armor, and died with a snarl on their faces. They were several feet apart, and died like animals, as they deserved. The third body was the closest to the door, wearing expensive chain and boiled leather, with a longsword of castle forged steel in his hands. It was an older man, around Tywin's age. His green eyes were still open, yet they held no signs of life, with his chest caved in. He must've been a distant Lantell or Lanny, from a minor cadet branch. He vaguely recognized him from somewhere in his past, but he was not certain where. Still, he had done his duty, and would receive the honors he was due in death.
Without another look, Tywin entered the dark room. Robart was near the back of the room, helping a woman with long silver hair to her feet, along with the two girls that accompanied her. They looked disgusted and were on the verge of vomiting due to the four dead bodies that laid on the ground closest to the entrance. All four laid in a pool of their own blood, with one missing an arm, two with their throats slashed, and another with a broken blade protruding from his right eye.
Tywin felt his eyes drawn toward the only girl standing in the room, her gaze focused on the Lord of Casterly Rock. She was a small thing, her night gown caked in blood and gore. Even with the light from the torches, her white hair was stained red, and the dagger in one of her hands bloody. Her pale hands firmly held onto her two blades, one redder than the other. She looked like she had walked through a warzone.
Yet, what caught his attention the most, was her eyes. Sapphire blue, cold, and unyielding, the girl stared at Tywin without fear. She had her knees slightly bent, ready to pounce like a lion, like a Lannister. For some reason, they sent a slight shiver down his spine, they reminded him of when Ser Clegane had been knighted, he had the same look in his eyes when swearing the oaths.
"Did you do this, girl?" Tywin asked. He doubted that a little girl could take on four full grown men, Ironborn raiders at that, and live to tell the tale. Yet, if she wasn't the one who massacred them, who did? There was no window or other door to the room, and she was covered in blood. A maester would be able to determine how injured she was, and the dead Ironborn.
"Yes, my Lord." The girl said respectfully, bowing her head. At the very least, she knew her place in this world.
"Impressive." Tywin removed his helmet. The girl's cold blue eyes slightly widened in shock, showing she wasn't just putting on a mask. "Not many men could take on four warriors and survive, even amongst my best men, even less a lady such as yourself. Very impressive."
He would play along for now, at least until he had enough proof to prove that it wasn't this little girl that killed those men. She wasn't Jaime, but she could always prove to be useful in other ways. And if she was, well, he could see the advantage of a blade being able to go places where a knight could not go.
"Thank you, my Lord." The girl curtseyed, recognizing him as her overlord. She certainly knew her manners.
"What is your name, girl?" Tywin ignored the knights that entered the room behind him, assisting Robart the lowly guard with the three other ladies. His attention was solely on the waif who had proven to be quite the interesting figure thus far.
"Weiss of House Lannister of Lannisport, my Lord." Lady Weiss said, her light voice even and calm despite all of the death she had seen. She didn't speak like a girl, instead she sounded like a woman far older. "Daughter of Lord Dramen Lannister and Lady Ceria Velaryon." A distant relative then, Dramen's grandmother had been a Lannister of the Rock, one of Tywin's aunts.
How interesting.
A/N
Welcome to another long chapter! We really enjoyed reading and discussing all those comments, it's been fun even when some got really close to guessing some plot points.
Leaving that out there to fuel more guessing, but we won't say who/what idea was getting a bit too close. And like Night_Stalker confirmed, RBJY are somewhere else, and will eventually appear. The circumstances will be a closely held secret for now.
We hope today's chapter was fun!
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
I wonder (and I bit hope) things look bad for them.
Weiss adapted being born into a High-level Noble Family. Both better and worst (but mostly better because her new Family carnes for her) than her life as a Schnee.
But Jaune, Ruby, Blake and Yang would have belonged to Middle-class in Remnant. A world Made akin to present day United Statues and stereotypes of other parts of Earth.
A Social Class that Doesn't Exist in Westeros.
Depending in where they live, they Will have a Bad Time adapting to their new reality.
And most importantly, and in contrast to Weiss, they may simply not know how to change the world despite their potential powers.
Edit: Specially Blake should have a Bad Time coming to terms with the reality of this new world. Better pray she isn't born with Cat Ears or she would be killed on her crib
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- Location
- Russia
I was thinking about how in this timeline Weiss and Tyrion can be the best friends and what relationship Tyrion might develop with Weiss but I am not sure about how old are they here
Tyrion may believe what Weiss is a witch and be fascinated by her magic
And then I saw update alert! Magnificent!
Tyrion may believe what Weiss is a witch and be fascinated by her magic
And then I saw update alert! Magnificent!
Hopefully Tywin Lannister doesn't assume she's a Faceless Man who were known to appear as children among their many disguises.
Tywin Lannister will be more interested when he eventually finds out about her "magic" that summons a giant knight.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
If anything, gonna be very interesting how Weiss deals with the incoming Civil War.
She would be fighting to preserve Joffrey's position as King, in the same side with Gregor Clegane. All under the Eye of Tywin Lannister, who didn't need much argument to help with the Red Wedding.
...Weiss isn't going to have a fun Time in the War to come.
Edit: And this Is not mentioning how Warfare here Is much More slower and bloodier than back in Remnant.
For when Grimm die, there Is no body left behind.
She would be fighting to preserve Joffrey's position as King, in the same side with Gregor Clegane. All under the Eye of Tywin Lannister, who didn't need much argument to help with the Red Wedding.
...Weiss isn't going to have a fun Time in the War to come.
Edit: And this Is not mentioning how Warfare here Is much More slower and bloodier than back in Remnant.
For when Grimm die, there Is no body left behind.
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1-9
By the time the dawn arrived, the surviving Ironborn had been driven back to their longships, with their fleet sailing out of view of the sentries placed at the highest points of Lannisport. It had been a long night, the Ironborn had caught them off guard, and the City Watch barely managed to turn the fighting into a stalemate under the command of Lord Commander Tytos, until he took an axe to the neck. Dramen would have to find a replacement soon enough. Still, at least they had been able to turn the tide once reinforcements from Casterly Rock arrived, driving the Ironborn raiders out of the city.
Yet, even with that victory, the loss of the Lannister Fleet stung, the pride of Dramen's Father and his father before him. Without the fleet, any form of a counterattack would be delayed by years, if not decades without help from the Reach or King's Landing. Rebuilding the fleet would be a princely endeavor, one that would likely come from Dramen's pocket. And with the docks in desperate need of repairs, the coffers of House Lannister of Lannisport were likely going to be much emptier for the next year or so. That was fine, Lannisters always rebuilt, stronger and better than before. The districts closest to the docks had been hit the hardest, with the fire that engulfed the fleet spreading quickly despite the best efforts of the City Watch.
All those buildings and ships were expensive and would take time to rebuild. With the docks in desperate need of repair, it would take months if not a year to start building new ships, and even longer to regain the trust of the merchants that had lost merchandise and coin in the attack. At least some of the ships could be refloated from where they had sunk in port.
Those thoughts did little to stop a frown from forming on Dramen's face as he rode to the Gold Keep, with Ser Larys, Ser Tygett, and Ser Kevan by his side. A collection of other knights, mounted men-at-arms and squires followed behind them. Dramen and Ser Lary's armor were the dirtiest of the four, caked in blood and dirt, they smelled awful.
"I am very appreciative." Dramen drawled, doing his best to hide his lack of sleep in his voice. "Had Casterly Rock not answered our call, I fear driving the raiders out would have taken much longer."
Ser Tygett's lips curled upwards. "Casterly Rock always remains poised to defend its bannermen, especially family." They were distant cousins, since Dramen's grandmother had been their aunt. Still, family was family, even if the bonds could be somewhat distant at times.
"There's no greater bond than blood." Ser Kevan added. Both brothers had removed their helmets, leaving them only in their Lannister plate armor decorated with images of a golden lion on red. Ser Kevan's wife, a daughter of House Swyft had a mansion in Lannisport, she was lucky she had been visiting Casterly Rock when the attack had occurred. He shuddered to imagine what would happen if she had been targeted. As it was, he was going to have to act very carefully to keep his head.
"On that I can agree." Dramen nodded. Ser Larys remained silent, holding the banner of House Lannister of Lannisport with an aching swordhand. He had refused to allow a squire to hold it. The Lantell had been in the thickest part of the fighting, never leaving Dramen's side. Such loyalty would have to be rewarded.
The rest of the trot to the Gold Keep was in silence, with the fighting long over the smallfolk had slowly started to come out of hiding, emerging from their homes with wide and confused eyes. None stood in their way, out of fear of being trampled by their destriers and war horses, or out of sheer shyness. Under the rule of Lord Tywin, the Lannister name had become more respected and feared than loved. That didn't stop some from cheering.
"Lions of Lannisters!" A little girl in a ragged old dress shrieked.
"Lannister!" An older man in a fine doublet boomed, raising his fist in the air. Others began to join in with their own cries.
"Casterly Rock!" A whore wearing a revealing dress shouted from the balcony of her brothel.
"Lannisport!" A bruised and battered member of the City Watch walking the streets raised his spear high in the air.
"Lannister!"
"Lannister!"
Dramen pressed his lips together, remaining silent even as the knights, soldiers and squires cheered along with the crowd. He just wanted to get home and see his family. Under the care of Ser Tylan, they should've been safe and sound, far away from any fighting. Weiss should still be asleep at this hour even if the news somehow had somehow awoken her.
It took longer than he had expected, due to the streets suddenly becoming full of cheers and shouts, but in the end the Gold Keep soon came into view, with its high walls and moat. The drawbridge was lowered, with at least a dozen mounted men-at-arms guarding the entrance, and about double that in foot. Scores more patrolled the walls, crossbows and short swords in hand.
Urging his mount into a faster trot, Dramen and his companions soon reached the drawbridge. A massive knight on a dark destrier was waiting for them, his heavy steel plate armor covered by a surcoat with the image of a boar. The Crakehall had his helm by his side, revealing his dark and bushy mustache that was connected to his side whiskers. His long black hair fell to just below his shoulders.
"Ser Lyle! A pleasure to see you again, though I wish it had been under better circumstances." Dramen spoke first, approaching the large man. The Strongboar was a regular visitor to Lannisport and Casterly Rock, often visiting for tourneys or to visit the brothels.
"Lord Dramen." Ser Lyle Crakehall bowed his head slightly. "Ser Kevan, Ser Tygett." He didn't give Ser Larys a glance. The Strongboar looked serious for once. That was not a good sign.
"Is Lord Tywin present?" Dramen inquired. Kevan Lannister was rarely far from Lord Tywin's presence. Where one was spotted, the other was sure to be nearby.
"Aye, Lord Tywin requested that you be escorted to the Great Hall as soon as you arrive." Ser Lyle answered, his voice deep and low.
Dramen frowned. "Allow me to wash up and I shall meet him as soon as possible."
Ser Lyle shook his head side to side. "Lord Tywin specifically commanded to escort you the moment you arrived."
This was not good. Family they may be, but Lord Tywin was still a hard man, exterminating the Reynes to the last child when they opposed him. And as the Lannister in charge of presiding over the single largest defeat in recent memory, Dramen's position was fragile.
He wrinkled his nose and gave the Strongboar a single nod. "Very well, lead onward Ser Lyle." He wouldn't shirk his responsibility, or the consequences therein. He had failed, and it was time to pay the Stranger.
As Lord Tywin often said, a Lannister always paid their debts.
The halls and corridors of the Gold Keep were lined with soldiers, each clad in the finest armor available, and armed with short swords and spears. Dramen didn't recognize many of them. Evidently they were some of Lord Tywin's foot, which did not bode well for his own forces. Their armor was cleaned and polished, while the Lord of Lannisport looked like he had just emerged from the battlefield.
Ser Lyle led him to the foyer of the Great Hall, where dozens of knights and lordlings were already breaking their fast. Dramen could feel some of their stares, he looked out of place with his battered armor, blood stained beard and greasy hair. He felt another pair of eyes trained on him, green with flecks of gold in them. Lord Tywin sat at the high table, in Dramen's seat. Taking a sharp breath, the younger Lord approached.
"Lord Tywin." Dramen paused before the high table to bow, an embarrassing thing to do in one's home. Under the circumstances though, it couldn't be helped. And if it was all the price he had to pay, he'd do so gladly. "I must thank you for your assistance, Lannisport owes you greatly."
Lord Tywin stared at him for a few seconds with cold eyes, before turning to the parchment beside his plate of grapes, imported from the Reach. "The Westerlands are now the laughing stock of all Seven Kingdoms."
Dramen remained silent, hardening his eyes and doing his best to keep his composure. This was not a time to speak. Not unless he had a sudden desire to travel North and wear black for the rest of his life.
"Our fleet sits at the bottom of the bay, and Lannisport is half burnt to the ground." Lord Tywin continued speaking. He was exaggerating about the second point, the majority of Lannisport remained untouched. "Do you know how this makes us look?"
Dramen licked his lips and bowed his head, avoiding Lord Tywin's accusing glare. "Weak, my Lord."
"Weak." Lord Tywin scoffed. "We look like fools allowing my fleet to burn, we look like buffoons who will now have to rely on King Robert's strength just to muster a reprisal. We can match the Greyjoys on land on our own, but without a fleet my armies are useless. The Sunset Sea is their fortress, and without our battering rams our superior numbers are useless."
Dramen clenched his fist. It was well known that Lord Tywin only cared about his reputation.
"I have already sent a raven to King's Landing, requesting help from the Royal Fleet." Lord Tywin's jaw was tight. "I have no doubt that Robert will send his younger brother, Stannis, to take command as Master-of-Ships."
Stannis Baratheon, the Iron Stag who had held Storms End for over a year while the Tyrells and Redwynes did their best to starve him out during Robert's Rebellion. The man had held onto the ancient castle until the end of the war, when Ned Stark marched south to relieve him. He seemed to be a fine commander, but he was unblooded at sea, untested and raw. King Robert naming him Master-of-Ships had caused quite an uproar in all the houses with any sort of naval tradition. That soon turned into whispers in between cups once it was made known that Stannis was stripped of Storms End and given Dragonstone instead.
Why was Lord Tywin saying all of this in a room full of other men, instead of in his solar? Was this his way of punishing and embarrassing Dramen in front of his bannermen? He was already embarrassed as it was, his port was burned to the ground and he had to beg for help from his liege lord.
"And you, you couldn't even protect your family correctly." Lord Tywin's voice level dropped, sounding more like a growl than a whisper. Dramen felt his heartbeat skip, his hands released from his fist.
"M-My Lord?" Dramen nearly croaked, his lips dry. Was that supposed to be a threat? He resisted the urge to try to strangle his cousin. If he'd pulled another repeat of what had happened to Lady Martell and her child as an abject lesson to him, he would kill the man, kinslaying be damned.
Lord Tywin's cold eyes seemed amused. "It appeared that this attack coincided with a raid on the Gold Keep. The Ironborn had managed to pierce your defenses, and had attempted to make off with your wife, daughter and their companions."
Ceria and Weiss were nearly taken as saltwives? Where was Ser Tylan? Their safety had been his responsibility!
"Fortunately, my forces arrived before they could escape with their ill-gotten gains." Lord Tywin reached for the pitcher of wine, serving himself a small glass. "Your wife and daughter are safe, the Maester should be seeing to any injuries they have about now."
Lord Tywin raised the cup of Myrish glass to his lips and took a small sip. "Go and see how they fare. We will have much to discuss with war on our horizon, and wash up. You reek of death."
Dramen bowed his head deeply once more, anxious to see his wife and daughter. He would find Ser Tylan once he was done and get an explanation from the old knight.
"Yes, my Lord."
The Maester's Tower was located at the far end of the Gold Keep, towards the east away from the coast. Maester Harmune had been in the service of the Lannister of Lannisport for decades, and had helped Ceria when she had given birth to Weiss all those years ago. The old Maester was one of Dramen's closest advisors, alongside Ser Larys, Ser Tylan and Joff the steward of the Gold Keep.
Not bothering to strip off his armor, Dramen sped towards the Maester's Tower, with servants and guards doing their best to stay out of his way. It worried him somewhat that there seemed to be far less of the later than the former, at least, in his house's colors. It took longer than he would've liked to arrive at the Tower, or at least it appeared to take longer. Catching sight of the door to Maester Harmune's room, Dramen shoved the door open without a word, wiping his armor as best as he could with a wool cloth he had grabbed from a cleaning maid.
Ceria was sitting on a cot, her already pale skin lighter than usual, with one of her hands covering her mouth as she shook softly. She was crying, and Maester Harmune was nowhere to be found.
"My Lady!" Dramen ran to his wife's side, and got on one knee, stripping his hands of the gloves and gauntlets that he wore. He took her free hand into his own hands, seeking to comfort her. "Are you injured?"
Ceria shook her head, her silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders. She smelled of lavender-berries, and wore a simple red dress. Her blue eyes were puffy, red and swollen from her tears. "I am fine, husband. Maester Harmune assured me that I suffered no injuries."
That was good, excellent even. Dramen pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hands, doing his best to avoid touching her with his dirty armor. She didn't seem to mind though, her cheeks reddening.
"Maester Harmune is currently examining our daughter." Ceria croaked. That only made her tears seem to fall even more, though she whispered prayers under her breath. Strange, his Lady Wife had never been a particular devout follower of the Seven.
"Weiss? How is she?" Dramen's heart dropped. "W-Was she-"
Ceria shook her head once more. "She was not touched by those men, n-not in the way you may think she was."
That only made him more anxious. Then what had happened to cause his wife to be in such a state? "What do you mean, my Lady?"
His Wife started to speak.
A/N
Another quick update though it's not as long as the previous two. We'll be jumping back to Weiss' POV next chapter to see how she's holding up.
I hope everyone has been enjoying these constant updates.
Yet, even with that victory, the loss of the Lannister Fleet stung, the pride of Dramen's Father and his father before him. Without the fleet, any form of a counterattack would be delayed by years, if not decades without help from the Reach or King's Landing. Rebuilding the fleet would be a princely endeavor, one that would likely come from Dramen's pocket. And with the docks in desperate need of repairs, the coffers of House Lannister of Lannisport were likely going to be much emptier for the next year or so. That was fine, Lannisters always rebuilt, stronger and better than before. The districts closest to the docks had been hit the hardest, with the fire that engulfed the fleet spreading quickly despite the best efforts of the City Watch.
All those buildings and ships were expensive and would take time to rebuild. With the docks in desperate need of repair, it would take months if not a year to start building new ships, and even longer to regain the trust of the merchants that had lost merchandise and coin in the attack. At least some of the ships could be refloated from where they had sunk in port.
Those thoughts did little to stop a frown from forming on Dramen's face as he rode to the Gold Keep, with Ser Larys, Ser Tygett, and Ser Kevan by his side. A collection of other knights, mounted men-at-arms and squires followed behind them. Dramen and Ser Lary's armor were the dirtiest of the four, caked in blood and dirt, they smelled awful.
"I am very appreciative." Dramen drawled, doing his best to hide his lack of sleep in his voice. "Had Casterly Rock not answered our call, I fear driving the raiders out would have taken much longer."
Ser Tygett's lips curled upwards. "Casterly Rock always remains poised to defend its bannermen, especially family." They were distant cousins, since Dramen's grandmother had been their aunt. Still, family was family, even if the bonds could be somewhat distant at times.
"There's no greater bond than blood." Ser Kevan added. Both brothers had removed their helmets, leaving them only in their Lannister plate armor decorated with images of a golden lion on red. Ser Kevan's wife, a daughter of House Swyft had a mansion in Lannisport, she was lucky she had been visiting Casterly Rock when the attack had occurred. He shuddered to imagine what would happen if she had been targeted. As it was, he was going to have to act very carefully to keep his head.
"On that I can agree." Dramen nodded. Ser Larys remained silent, holding the banner of House Lannister of Lannisport with an aching swordhand. He had refused to allow a squire to hold it. The Lantell had been in the thickest part of the fighting, never leaving Dramen's side. Such loyalty would have to be rewarded.
The rest of the trot to the Gold Keep was in silence, with the fighting long over the smallfolk had slowly started to come out of hiding, emerging from their homes with wide and confused eyes. None stood in their way, out of fear of being trampled by their destriers and war horses, or out of sheer shyness. Under the rule of Lord Tywin, the Lannister name had become more respected and feared than loved. That didn't stop some from cheering.
"Lions of Lannisters!" A little girl in a ragged old dress shrieked.
"Lannister!" An older man in a fine doublet boomed, raising his fist in the air. Others began to join in with their own cries.
"Casterly Rock!" A whore wearing a revealing dress shouted from the balcony of her brothel.
"Lannisport!" A bruised and battered member of the City Watch walking the streets raised his spear high in the air.
"Lannister!"
"Lannister!"
Dramen pressed his lips together, remaining silent even as the knights, soldiers and squires cheered along with the crowd. He just wanted to get home and see his family. Under the care of Ser Tylan, they should've been safe and sound, far away from any fighting. Weiss should still be asleep at this hour even if the news somehow had somehow awoken her.
It took longer than he had expected, due to the streets suddenly becoming full of cheers and shouts, but in the end the Gold Keep soon came into view, with its high walls and moat. The drawbridge was lowered, with at least a dozen mounted men-at-arms guarding the entrance, and about double that in foot. Scores more patrolled the walls, crossbows and short swords in hand.
Urging his mount into a faster trot, Dramen and his companions soon reached the drawbridge. A massive knight on a dark destrier was waiting for them, his heavy steel plate armor covered by a surcoat with the image of a boar. The Crakehall had his helm by his side, revealing his dark and bushy mustache that was connected to his side whiskers. His long black hair fell to just below his shoulders.
"Ser Lyle! A pleasure to see you again, though I wish it had been under better circumstances." Dramen spoke first, approaching the large man. The Strongboar was a regular visitor to Lannisport and Casterly Rock, often visiting for tourneys or to visit the brothels.
"Lord Dramen." Ser Lyle Crakehall bowed his head slightly. "Ser Kevan, Ser Tygett." He didn't give Ser Larys a glance. The Strongboar looked serious for once. That was not a good sign.
"Is Lord Tywin present?" Dramen inquired. Kevan Lannister was rarely far from Lord Tywin's presence. Where one was spotted, the other was sure to be nearby.
"Aye, Lord Tywin requested that you be escorted to the Great Hall as soon as you arrive." Ser Lyle answered, his voice deep and low.
Dramen frowned. "Allow me to wash up and I shall meet him as soon as possible."
Ser Lyle shook his head side to side. "Lord Tywin specifically commanded to escort you the moment you arrived."
This was not good. Family they may be, but Lord Tywin was still a hard man, exterminating the Reynes to the last child when they opposed him. And as the Lannister in charge of presiding over the single largest defeat in recent memory, Dramen's position was fragile.
He wrinkled his nose and gave the Strongboar a single nod. "Very well, lead onward Ser Lyle." He wouldn't shirk his responsibility, or the consequences therein. He had failed, and it was time to pay the Stranger.
As Lord Tywin often said, a Lannister always paid their debts.
The halls and corridors of the Gold Keep were lined with soldiers, each clad in the finest armor available, and armed with short swords and spears. Dramen didn't recognize many of them. Evidently they were some of Lord Tywin's foot, which did not bode well for his own forces. Their armor was cleaned and polished, while the Lord of Lannisport looked like he had just emerged from the battlefield.
Ser Lyle led him to the foyer of the Great Hall, where dozens of knights and lordlings were already breaking their fast. Dramen could feel some of their stares, he looked out of place with his battered armor, blood stained beard and greasy hair. He felt another pair of eyes trained on him, green with flecks of gold in them. Lord Tywin sat at the high table, in Dramen's seat. Taking a sharp breath, the younger Lord approached.
"Lord Tywin." Dramen paused before the high table to bow, an embarrassing thing to do in one's home. Under the circumstances though, it couldn't be helped. And if it was all the price he had to pay, he'd do so gladly. "I must thank you for your assistance, Lannisport owes you greatly."
Lord Tywin stared at him for a few seconds with cold eyes, before turning to the parchment beside his plate of grapes, imported from the Reach. "The Westerlands are now the laughing stock of all Seven Kingdoms."
Dramen remained silent, hardening his eyes and doing his best to keep his composure. This was not a time to speak. Not unless he had a sudden desire to travel North and wear black for the rest of his life.
"Our fleet sits at the bottom of the bay, and Lannisport is half burnt to the ground." Lord Tywin continued speaking. He was exaggerating about the second point, the majority of Lannisport remained untouched. "Do you know how this makes us look?"
Dramen licked his lips and bowed his head, avoiding Lord Tywin's accusing glare. "Weak, my Lord."
"Weak." Lord Tywin scoffed. "We look like fools allowing my fleet to burn, we look like buffoons who will now have to rely on King Robert's strength just to muster a reprisal. We can match the Greyjoys on land on our own, but without a fleet my armies are useless. The Sunset Sea is their fortress, and without our battering rams our superior numbers are useless."
Dramen clenched his fist. It was well known that Lord Tywin only cared about his reputation.
"I have already sent a raven to King's Landing, requesting help from the Royal Fleet." Lord Tywin's jaw was tight. "I have no doubt that Robert will send his younger brother, Stannis, to take command as Master-of-Ships."
Stannis Baratheon, the Iron Stag who had held Storms End for over a year while the Tyrells and Redwynes did their best to starve him out during Robert's Rebellion. The man had held onto the ancient castle until the end of the war, when Ned Stark marched south to relieve him. He seemed to be a fine commander, but he was unblooded at sea, untested and raw. King Robert naming him Master-of-Ships had caused quite an uproar in all the houses with any sort of naval tradition. That soon turned into whispers in between cups once it was made known that Stannis was stripped of Storms End and given Dragonstone instead.
Why was Lord Tywin saying all of this in a room full of other men, instead of in his solar? Was this his way of punishing and embarrassing Dramen in front of his bannermen? He was already embarrassed as it was, his port was burned to the ground and he had to beg for help from his liege lord.
"And you, you couldn't even protect your family correctly." Lord Tywin's voice level dropped, sounding more like a growl than a whisper. Dramen felt his heartbeat skip, his hands released from his fist.
"M-My Lord?" Dramen nearly croaked, his lips dry. Was that supposed to be a threat? He resisted the urge to try to strangle his cousin. If he'd pulled another repeat of what had happened to Lady Martell and her child as an abject lesson to him, he would kill the man, kinslaying be damned.
Lord Tywin's cold eyes seemed amused. "It appeared that this attack coincided with a raid on the Gold Keep. The Ironborn had managed to pierce your defenses, and had attempted to make off with your wife, daughter and their companions."
Ceria and Weiss were nearly taken as saltwives? Where was Ser Tylan? Their safety had been his responsibility!
"Fortunately, my forces arrived before they could escape with their ill-gotten gains." Lord Tywin reached for the pitcher of wine, serving himself a small glass. "Your wife and daughter are safe, the Maester should be seeing to any injuries they have about now."
Lord Tywin raised the cup of Myrish glass to his lips and took a small sip. "Go and see how they fare. We will have much to discuss with war on our horizon, and wash up. You reek of death."
Dramen bowed his head deeply once more, anxious to see his wife and daughter. He would find Ser Tylan once he was done and get an explanation from the old knight.
"Yes, my Lord."
The Maester's Tower was located at the far end of the Gold Keep, towards the east away from the coast. Maester Harmune had been in the service of the Lannister of Lannisport for decades, and had helped Ceria when she had given birth to Weiss all those years ago. The old Maester was one of Dramen's closest advisors, alongside Ser Larys, Ser Tylan and Joff the steward of the Gold Keep.
Not bothering to strip off his armor, Dramen sped towards the Maester's Tower, with servants and guards doing their best to stay out of his way. It worried him somewhat that there seemed to be far less of the later than the former, at least, in his house's colors. It took longer than he would've liked to arrive at the Tower, or at least it appeared to take longer. Catching sight of the door to Maester Harmune's room, Dramen shoved the door open without a word, wiping his armor as best as he could with a wool cloth he had grabbed from a cleaning maid.
Ceria was sitting on a cot, her already pale skin lighter than usual, with one of her hands covering her mouth as she shook softly. She was crying, and Maester Harmune was nowhere to be found.
"My Lady!" Dramen ran to his wife's side, and got on one knee, stripping his hands of the gloves and gauntlets that he wore. He took her free hand into his own hands, seeking to comfort her. "Are you injured?"
Ceria shook her head, her silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders. She smelled of lavender-berries, and wore a simple red dress. Her blue eyes were puffy, red and swollen from her tears. "I am fine, husband. Maester Harmune assured me that I suffered no injuries."
That was good, excellent even. Dramen pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hands, doing his best to avoid touching her with his dirty armor. She didn't seem to mind though, her cheeks reddening.
"Maester Harmune is currently examining our daughter." Ceria croaked. That only made her tears seem to fall even more, though she whispered prayers under her breath. Strange, his Lady Wife had never been a particular devout follower of the Seven.
"Weiss? How is she?" Dramen's heart dropped. "W-Was she-"
Ceria shook her head once more. "She was not touched by those men, n-not in the way you may think she was."
That only made him more anxious. Then what had happened to cause his wife to be in such a state? "What do you mean, my Lady?"
His Wife started to speak.
A/N
Another quick update though it's not as long as the previous two. We'll be jumping back to Weiss' POV next chapter to see how she's holding up.
I hope everyone has been enjoying these constant updates.
"They didn't really touch her. She touched them though. With a knife. Mostly to the throat." Weiss' mom basically. She is going to drive both parents to drink before she reaches adulthood. I can already tell.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
I wonder if Weiss Is Actually Ok.
RWBY fights against non-Grimm were rare in the series. The Fodder White Fang and Bandits were easily put down into submission thanks to their weak auras, and there was very little bloodshed, again thanks to Aura being a thing.
Weiss has actually endured worst wounds that those inflicted by her.
And now she just killed 4 men very personally, with their blood covering her.
RWBY fights against non-Grimm were rare in the series. The Fodder White Fang and Bandits were easily put down into submission thanks to their weak auras, and there was very little bloodshed, again thanks to Aura being a thing.
Weiss has actually endured worst wounds that those inflicted by her.
And now she just killed 4 men very personally, with their blood covering her.
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Weiss might have to get used to it. Oneshotting her enemies with one swift strike of her Aura-enhanced combat capabilities.
Like The Mountain who would end up reduced into The Rubble.
- Location
- Russia
Will be Weiss soon called "Little Mountain" or something like this and the Mountain himself looking at her strangely? Feeling wary. And cold from Weiss presence.
Sorry, really need to sleep. Thinking about how Mountain should be some kind of mutant
P.S. I hope Wiss here will get her own water dance teacher - one of Syrio' rivals. (And might be forced to dispose of moron later)
Sorry, really need to sleep. Thinking about how Mountain should be some kind of mutant
P.S. I hope Wiss here will get her own water dance teacher - one of Syrio' rivals. (And might be forced to dispose of moron later)
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1-10
Weiss
After a rather thorough examination by Maester Harmune, Weiss sighed. She wasn't used to using her aura in prolonged engagements, despite her limited exercise with it after she unlocked her own aura. That and her body was still young, having only seen seven namedays. Her body was young and weak, and her aura, the very representation of her soul, was too strong for it, unused to a new body. Even using it in such a minimal manner had greatly drained her stamina.
Weiss was exhausted and starving, she needed to eat to replenish the energy she had lost. Then she could complain to her Mother and Father about Lord Tywin's order. Admittedly they couldn't do anything, but it would make her feel a bit better and fit her age. She was never going to forgive Lord Tywin for this humiliation.
"Her maidenhead remains intact." Septa Loria said after what felt like an eternity. Weiss already had a low opinion of the older woman, one that she hid behind polite smiles and girly giggles. This only served to strengthen her opinions. She swore Loria got the position only out of political reasoning, and not any proper religious convictions.
"My Lords and Lady Lannister shall be elated." Maester Harmune bowed his head. Weiss rolled her eyes as she finally sat up and started adjusting her dress with some help from the Septa. This whole fiasco shouldn't have needed to happen, Weiss had killed those men before they could touch her, her Mother and her friends.
Weiss' breath got caught in her throat. That's right, she was a killer now, not an accidental one like back on Remnant. No, this time she had aimed for deadly blows, attacking those Ironborn raiders where she knew would end up killing them. She had felt the warmth of their blood on her skin, felt how the letter opener and dagger sunk into their flesh, Weiss had seen the light slowly fade from their eyes. All four men, slain by her very hands. She looked down at her hands, which even after considerable scrubbing, still had some faint red tinting the skin. That would go away with time according to Maester Harmune. She felt like throwing up. Weiss had nearly died once before, at Haven when Cinder had pierced her abdomen with that spear in the middle of her fight with Vernal. Weiss remembered how weak she felt, and the pain, those memories had been some of the hardest to relive when they returned.
Knowing she had been on the verge of death once before.
"My Lady." Maester Harmune's voice tore Weiss away from her thoughts. She formed a practiced smile. "How are you feeling?" Weiss resisted the urge to tell how she actually felt, which would likely end with her confined to a lonely tower in some isolated part of the Westerlands as a madwoman.
Septa Loria moved to the side as Maester Harmune drew closer now that Weiss was fully dressed. He had his apprentices look after Alis and Alysanne in another room, focusing all of his attention on Weiss and her Mother. It was one part reassuring, one part another privilege she hated.
"Relieved." Weiss admitted. She had taken three baths to scrub the blood off of her skin, and used expensive oils and shampoos to clean her white hair back to its original shade. One of her maids had thrown up while scrubbing her, which earned Weiss a third bath instead of the originally planned two.
Mother had been distant after the attack, but was still conscious enough to demand that Weiss be bathed in seven different shampoos, and coated in seven different smelling oils. As the Lady of the Gold Keep, Maester Harmune had seen to her first. Weiss had no objections, her mother was the eldest, after all.
"I am as well, my Lady." Maester Harmune nodded. Based on what Weiss had heard, the guards of the Maester's Tower barricaded the doors, preventing the raiders from entering.
Those cowards had left them to die. Admittedly, they did have a goal in saving the Maester and his records, but it still stuck in her craw something awful.
Weiss had left Ser Tylan to die. Joston, Tarik, and Byren, all of them were dead now. She should've done something, she could've acted sooner. They wouldn't have died if Weiss had engaged those Ironborn, but then what? Her aura would've run low, and even with all of the skills provided by her muscle memory, she would've died or worse. Mother, Alysanne, and Alis would've been raped in their own home and taken as saltwives. She had made the right choice, but that still didn't stop the guilt from overflowing. Weiss had cried in the bath, using the steam from the hot water to hide her tears from the maids.
She had gotten a glimpse of Ser Tylan's body. Robart had tried shielding her eyes with his much larger body, but Weiss had managed to catch a glimpse of her former sworn sword. Ser Tylan had fought and died for her, just feet away, just out of reach. The old knight had managed to kill another Ironborn before he was overwhelmed, his chest caved in by a great axe. And in the end, Weiss had avenged him, killing his murderers, two of them with their own weapons. Her hands were now stained with death, figuratively and literally.
What would the others think? Sure they may have done the same as Weiss, with a few accidents here and there, but to have killed someone deliberately? She hoped they would be able to understand. Westeros was a cruel land after all. On the other hand, they had been there as well in the Breach, Ruby had no qualms literally mutilating Tyrian, Jaune had told her about that fight, and Blake was a former terrorist after all.
"You have much to think about?" Maester Harmune asked, grabbing an old, but firm chair and sitting across from Weiss, who sat on a cot. He gave Septa Loria a sharp glare, who quickly said her farewells and left the room.
"Yes." Weiss' smile dropped only for a second. She bit her bottom lip and hesitated. "I was just wondering what would've happened, if we had chosen a different path, maybe then Ser Tylan would've lived."
She should've ordered him to join them in the storage room. She should've used one of her summons, even if it may have been too much for her body to handle.
"I'm no Septon." Maester Harmune said, running a wrinkled hand through his long gray beard. His neck dipped from years of wearing the heavy chains of a maester. "But I have done my readings and have come to this conclusion."
Weiss raised an eyebrow while Maester Harmune's gaze, with his soft eyes, seemed to stare straight into her soul. "And that is?"
"Every decision we make comes with consequences, whether we face them now or in the future." Maester Harmune's voice was light and old. "There are countless possibilities, wealth, fame, treasures, love, each different depending on the path we take."
Weiss furrowed her brows together. What was with old people and talking in riddles? "What do you mean?"
"What I mean, my Lady..." Maester Harmune paused for a few seconds. "...is that we need to keep moving forward with the decisions we make, whether good or bad. To wallow in misery, would mean nothing more than an early death. Grieve, but never forget, and move on."
He did know she was seven right? Far too young for heavy discussions such as these, yet, he did have a point. To live life and remember those who had passed, Weiss would have to keep moving forward.
"Thank you, Maester Harmune." Weiss gave him a small smile. It was a heartfelt one though, while he wasn't too helpful, his advice was useful in some aspects.
"Oho, I'm just an old man rambling." Maester Harmune waved her off, standing and returning his seat from where he had grabbed it. He extended a wrinkled hand. "Come, I'm sure your Lord Father and Lady Mother are worried about their favorite daughter."
"I'm their only daughter." Weiss faked a giggle at the horrible joke and took his hand. The faux laughter did little to stop a pit from growing in her stomach. It felt nice though, going to see her parents once more. After her injury in Atlas, Willow hadn't bothered to come, and the less one could say about Jacques, the better. But here? She had parents who loved her.
But, would they still love her if they knew she was a killer?
The room Weiss had been examined in was connected to Maester Harmune's main quarters, seperated by a simple wooden door. Maester Harmune opened it and angled his body, allowing Weiss to walk in first. Her Mother was in the same spot Weiss had left her, except she had company this time. Father was kneeling in front of her, with Mother's lips whispering into his ears. They froze at Weiss' appearance. Father shot up onto his feet and quickly pulled Weiss into a tight embrace.
"Lady Weiss is unharmed, not even bruised." Maester Harmune declared, allowing her Mother to release a sigh of relief.
Weiss' nose wrinkled at the smell of blood, sweat and death. He was still wearing his red and black Lannister armor, which was filthy and getting her blue dress dirty. It felt weird and yet, it made Weiss feel warm inside. She really was messed up, if having a hug from her parent felt this way.
"I'm glad you're unharmed." Father said after what felt like an eternity, pulling away from the embrace. He seemed to have aged overnight, with his dirty beard and tired bloodshot eyes.
"Thank you, Father." Weiss smiled. "I didn't know if I would be able to see you again."
That was something an innocent child would say, right? Either way, that made her Mother tear up again, so she probably should've chosen to say something else. Why was this so hard? She could run circles around a room full of rich people, yet saying something heartfelt came out so wrong.
Father placed an unarmored hand on her shoulder and stared into her eyes, green meeting blue. "I would travel through all Seven Hells if it meant I would see my daughter again, even if I had to fight thousands of Ironborn raiders myself. I thank the Seven for keeping my family safe."
Those words caused something inside of Weiss to snap. Suddenly, she felt the skin on her cheeks moisten as two rivers of tears started to flow down her face. Her breath got caught in her throat as she threw her arms around her Father once more, the events of the night finally crashing down on the girl who had only seen seven namedays, yet was far older. Another pair of arms soon wrapped around them, far softer and smoother. Weiss' nose was assaulted by the smell of blood on her Father's armor, and the seven different oils and perfumes her Mother had dosed the young girl in. It was an atrocious smell, yet Weiss did not mind it.
This was her family.
Dramen
After ensuring that Weiss and his Lady Wife were safe and unharmed, Dramen had them escorted to his quarters to sleep. His mind was still reeling from the experiences told by Lady Ceria, so he retreated to his solar after being stripped of his armor and taking a long, warm bath to scrub off the smell of gore that refused to go away. He changed into a red doublet made of soft leather with a golden lion stitched over its left breast. Taking a seat behind his desk, the Lord of Lannisport finally allowed his shoulders to slump. A knock came from the door.
"Come in." Dramen said, keeping the sleep out of his voice. The door creaked open, revealing his beautiful wife. Her silver-white hair was simply done, and she had changed out of her red dress into a yellow one, plain and ordinary. It wasn't fit for a Lady of Lannisport, yet she seemed to want something a bit more comfortable. He could relate, sometimes you just had to wear clothes that weren't your usual fare when you were tired. "Shouldn't you be asleep? You must be tired."
"Lady Lefford and Lady Peckledon are struggling to sleep after what happened." Ceria sighed, sitting on a cushioned bench, filled with expensive feathers from the Summer Isles. "They're sleeping with Weiss, in your bed."
"Let it be known that you're the one who brought strange women into my bed." Dramen japed, to try and ease the tension. The news Ceria had told him about Weiss was dangerous, especially if members of the Faith were to find out. Or really, anyone outside the family.
Ceria gave him a playful glare, before standing up and making her way to the desk. She swung her slender hips side to side and leaned forward over the desk. Her modest dress hid her modest bosom. "During our bedding my Lord said that I was the only woman he would ever need."
"My words still ring true, my Lady." Dramen leaned back in his seat. He was exhausted, and had much to think about. He furrowed his brow together, deep in thought.
Ceria's smirk easily turned into a frown. "You do not believe me, about our daughter." It was a statement, something she believed in, not a question.
"I do." Dramen's shoulders sagged. His daughter being able to kill four men at the same time? At such a young age and without training? He would've taken it for a bad joke if anyone else had informed him. And if it didn't come with four bodies to back it up. Maester Harmune already confirmed that the blade stuck in one's eye was half a letter opener.
Ceria bit her bottom lip. "I had been praying to the Seven, just before it happened, calling upon them for help. They chose her for a reason Dramen, you should have been there and seen the look in her eyes."
"I am well aware I should have been here." Dramen said dryly. Ceria placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. He was tired, yet he wanted more. Just the thought of losing his wife made him yearn for her even more.
"You know what I mean." Ceria whispered. "You were doing your duty as Lord of Lannisport, Weiss and I understand." Left unsaid was that he arguably failed at that duty, and nearly failed at his duty as a father as well.
His family had almost been killed or worse. And where had he been? Busy putting out fires in his city, leaving their safety to an old knight he was going to retire in the coming months. Ser Tylan had been a fine knight, Dramen had planned on granting him a keep in the countryside for his children to inherit.
Ceria's eyes looked unfocused. "It was as if the Warrior himself had taken control of her, Dramen. She moved faster than any horse, and fought as if she'd been trained by the finest knights in the realm. The Seven looked after us this night, they answered my prayer."
Dramen Lannister had never been the most devout of men, but he knew better than to question his wife, especially when there were witnesses, even if they were women. Instead of answering her, he pressed his own kiss to her cheek, and lifted her onto his desk. Ceria didn't argue nor did she fight back, instead she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"We will pay our respects in the Motherhouse, once everyone has rested on the seventh day." Dramen murmured. He felt his wife run her hands through his still wet hair. A proper Thanksgiving service is what everyone needed after this, a good distraction, give some comfort to the smallfolk, and it wouldn't hurt to thank the Seven for their blessings, if true.
"Tonight has also reminded me of another thing, my Lord." Ceria sighed, holding him closely to her chest. He pulled away, yet didn't let go of her, if only to meet Ceria's eyes.
"And what is that, my Lady Wife?" Dramen eyes widened when she pulled down her dress over one shoulder, revealing her bare pale skin.
"How much I love you." Ceria took his face into her hands and planted a wet kiss on his lips, one he eagerly returned.
There would be no rest for Dramen that morning.
A/N
Ceria wanting to sleep with Dramen after seeing her life flash before her eyes should be normal. They want to feel alive and comforted. And this is ASOIAF/GOT after all.
And I promise Dramen will start having less POV chapters in the future, I just need him to stand in for Lord/Adult business.
Weiss will remain the MC of the story, even when others eventually appear. This is the first story where I have planned for the other members of Team RWBYJN to appear, and their roles have been chosen for a specific reason.
So Weiss gets another sibling, huh? Guess she will be the big sister this time around.
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
"So this Is how Winter must have felt"
In any case, no way Weiss would participante in the Siege of Pyke. So in that case she won't see war until Tywin causes problems in the Riverlands because Tyrion being arrested by Catelyn, and the civil war coming right after
In any case, no way Weiss would participante in the Siege of Pyke. So in that case she won't see war until Tywin causes problems in the Riverlands because Tyrion being arrested by Catelyn, and the civil war coming right after
1-11
The days after the attack on Lannisport had passed by slowly, at least in Weiss' opinion. After the burst of adrenaline following the fight, everything seemed dull and boring. Sadly, Father and Mother turned protective, and rarely allowed Weiss to see the outside world without seven guards, at the minimum. Robart, well Ser Robart now that Father had knighted him, was placed in charge of her security after the death of Ser Tylan, at least until another sworn sword could be chosen. While Father was appreciative of the now Ser Robart Bronzehill of Lannisport for his role in 'saving' Weiss, he was far from being a skilled warrior, and as a Lannister, she needed to have the best protecting her, according to Father at least. It would take time before another could take Ser Tylan's place.
At least the gardens of the Gold Keep were beautiful, and remained untouched during the Ironborn raid. And the weather was perfect for a tea party and needlework outside. Even if she despised needlework, it was still better than just sitting around doing nothing.
"You have such lovely work, Lady Weiss." Alis gushed as she looked over at Weiss' piece, a white lion on a background of red. It was decent at best, yet the two ladies seemed to worship the very ground Weiss walked on, changed ever since the raid. She could understand why, intellectually, but it felt weird now, her friends were worshiping her, far more than they used to.
"Yours is much better." Weiss said with a smile, placing her needles and expensive twine to the side. She grabbed a lemon cake, and started to nibble at it despite the urge to stuff it all in her mouth at once. She was raised better, both in this world and in Remnant.
Alysanne took a small sip of her tea, exported from Yi Ti and considered one of the finest in the world. It was sweet, yet tangy with a slight touch of honey despite not a single drop being added as the leaves brewed. It was Weiss' favorite since it seemed that coffee didn't exist in this world. "Why a lion of white? And not gold?" She asked.
Weiss' smile didn't disappear, and grabbed a lock of her hair, as white as snow. "I may be a Lannister, but Velayron blood still runs through my veins." Plus, to be fair, gold everywhere would be boring fast.
The blood of Old Valyria, Weiss' ancestors had been dragon riders if the history books the maesters wrote were telling the truth. House Velayron had been one of House Targaryen's most ancient allies, with both families often marrying members to each other since before Aegon's Conquest. They had once been the richest house in all Seven Kingdoms, but had fallen on hard times. Grandfather, the late Lucerys Velayron, had been the Mad King's Master-of-Ships, until a freak storm smashed his ships on the rocks of Dragonstone near the end of Robert's Rebellion before Stannis Baratheon could. Weiss' uncle, Lord Monford Velayron, succeeded him as Lord of Driftmark and the Lord of Tides. She had another uncle, one that Mother rarely spoke of, one of Grandfather's bastards.
Aurane Waters was just a few years older than Weiss, about twelve years or so, and was still her uncle. That was a weird thing to think about.
"House Velayron has such a long history." Alis added. "Being a descendant of the Sea Snake and the Oakenfist! It must be quite an honor."
"And Lann the Clever." Weiss smirked, turning her gaze towards Casterly Rock, easily visible to the north of the Gold Keep. She was far down the line of succession for the mountain turned castle, but that wasn't something Weiss wished for. Weiss was content with the things she had, and from what she had heard, Lord Tywin as a father would've been terrible. She finished the lemon cake and grabbed another.
"Careful, my Lady. Eat too many of those and you'll be as fat as a cow." It wasn't Ser Robart who spoke up, he was still standing several feet away on the pathway, wearing his newly gifted armor. No, this voice was higher pitched, and sounded like an idiot.
"Robert." Alysanne narrowed her eyes as they turned to look at the newcomer. It was Robert Brax, the second son of Andros Brax the Lord of Hornvale, and her Father's squire. His family was one of Lord Tywin's principal bannermen, making his position as Father's squire a political move. "I don't believe you were invited to this lunch."
"Lady Lannister, Lady Lefford." Robert said in greeting as he formed a lazy grin. He ignored Alis, likely due to her lower status from a knightly house. That made Weiss angry, but she concealed it. Even if he was a second son, she shouldn't ruin any political movement her Father was involved in. "I am not here to keep you company, I have been ordered by Lord Lannister to escort Lady Weiss to his solar."
Weiss rolled her eyes and stuffed the rest of her lemon cake in her mouth to spite the squire. She spoke once she swallowed the sweet treat. "Please continue without me. I'll try to convince my Father to let us go hawking."
"How lovely!" Alis pressed her hands together, a large smile on her face. She was always easy to read, and smiling.
"Indeed." Alysanne agreed. Her Father, Lord Leo Lefford was already marching towards Lannisport with five hundred men and at least a hundred knights. From what Weiss had overheard in her Father's conversations with Mother, Lord Lefford had been enraged, being the first lord to raise his banners in the name of Lord Tywin, ready to cross the Sunset Sea once they had a fleet to transport their troops.
The two girls were doing their best to try and forget the events from six days ago, attempting to move on and act like nothing had happened. Weiss wasn't sure if they had opened their eyes during her fight with the four Ironborn, but if they had, they revealed nothing behind their polite smiles.
"Let us go, Robert." Weiss said simply, standing from her seat and handing her needlework supplies to a servant who approached the moment she stood up. It was weird having servants. Back in Remnant, all she had was Klein, and he was more than enough for her.
The Brax extended his elbow, a common courtesy, yet not without meaning. He was a second son, and would not inherit the Hornvale unless something would happen to his slightly older brother. His only chance to advance in life was to gain a knighthood and be a part of his brother's household, or be married off to another family. As the Heiress to Lannisport, and Father's only child so far, Weiss must've been an interesting target. Many houses would grovel at the chance to marry a Lannister, unless they were named Tyrion and born a dwarf like her distant cousin, the infamous Imp.
Weiss slid her arm into the opening as she allowed the squire to take the lead. She spotted Ser Robart moving to follow her out of the corner of her eye, leaving the other six guards to keep an eye on her two lady friends.
"You grow more beautiful with each passing day, my Lady." Robert said once they were out of earshot of Alis and Alysanne. His cheeks, still with baby fat, turned a slight shade of red. Oh great, another lovesick fool loving the ideal of Weiss Lannister, not who she actually was. At least this one wasn't blonde. It seemed commonplace here, but marrying a cousin was still disgusting to her.
"Would you still believe that when I grow fat from eating sweets?" Weiss responded dryly. She wasn't going to forgive him easily for that comment. Robert Brax was only a few years older than her, around the same age as her bastard uncle if she had to guess.
Robert cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly. "I, uh, meant no offense, my Lady. I was only concerned with your health."
What a lame excuse, but then again, he was a child. They exited the gardens, passing by two guards in full armor and armed with spears. Security around the Gold Keep had also been increased, with Father raising more guards and increasing the number of the City Watch. Fortunately, there was no shortage of candidates, either to avenge their losses, or just to protect what was theirs. With the war with the Iron Islands just starting, the countryside around Lannisport and Casterly Rock would be filled with tents and bannermen from all over the Westerlands, and possibly the Seven Kingdoms. She swore she could hear the merchants salivating from here, given all the new customers who were about to descend on them.
"My health is my own concern, and that of my family, Lord Brax." Weiss spoke firmly. Calling him 'Lord' was a subtle insult, one that likely flew over his head. "There is no need to fret."
Robert pursed his lips to speak, but decided against it in the end, responding only with a single nod. A girl she may be, with only seven namedays, but she was still a Lannister and the Heiress to Lannisport. Unless she was married or dealing with more powerful bannermen, her word would carry weight anywhere in the Westerlands.
They continued the rest of the walk to Father's solar in silence.
The door to Father's solar was guarded by another pair of guards, these ones knights in gleaming armor instead of normal men-at-arms. Their armor was covered by surcoats of golden lions on red, likely Lannys, Lantells, or Lannetts. Father was taking no chances, it seemed. Not that she could blame him.
Weiss released her arm from Robert's hold, placing both hands in front of her. "Thank you for your escort."
"It was my pleasure, Lady Weiss." The Brax boy flushed and bowed his head politely. Evidently he was hoping for something more. A kiss, perhaps?
Giving him a fake smile, Weiss turned to the knights that guarded her Father's solar. They allowed her to pass, knocking on the door and announcing her before she could even speak.
"Lady Weiss Lannister." One of them boomed. He had a sword strapped to his side, his hand casually resting on the pommel.
"Enter." She heard her Father's muffled voice, and the other knight instantly opened the door for her.
"Thank you." Weiss said to neither in particular. Their faces were hidden by their helms, so she couldn't tell if they were annoyed with her presence or actually smiling. Mind, it wouldn't have mattered, they had their duties, and she had hers.
Father was seated behind his desk, dressed in a fine doublet that was likely made out of silk and wearing several golden rings, he looked every bit a lord as his eyes remained focused on one of many letters on his desk. Mother was also present, seated in an expensive chair that must've been brought in earlier. She sat beside Father, in a beautiful green dress that was complemented by her Valyrian pale skin. Mother didn't look as tired as she had been several days ago, unlike Father who had dark bags under his eyes.
"Father, Mother." Weiss greeted with a proper bow. She had seen them earlier that morning when they broke their fast together, but their busy schedules kept them apart.
"Hello Sweetling." Mother said, she was slowly returning back to normal with every passing day. It felt nice having a proper mother figure, especially one who didn't reek of vodka and hang out in the garden all the time.
"Weiss." Father briefly looked up from a letter before returning his attention to it. The windows to his solar were open, revealing the magnificence that was Casterly Rock before it. Not that she could blame him, the view was fantastic and well worth every penny.
"You summoned me?" Weiss asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes-Yes." Father sighed as he placed the letter back onto his desk. "As my heir, it's time we keep you updated with some of the news that's been arriving by raven." He motioned towards the extra seat that sat in front of his desk. She took it, keeping her back straight and not allowing her back to touch the back of the chair. If she did then her legs would be dangling in the air even more.
"Thank you, Father." Weiss smiled sweetly. More responsibility should be fun, and help to alleviate some of her boredom now that Ser Tylan wasn't around to tell her stories. His funeral would be on the morrow, and Weiss was sure to attend.
Father nodded and grabbed a letter, one with a broken seal that she couldn't make out. "The Lord Hand has answered Lord Tywin's raven, in King Robert's name."
Ah, so King Robert would be deploying the Royal Fleet? The Westerlands had no shortage of soldiers, hedge knights were already arriving for a chance to win glory and gain the attention of lordly houses. Already she could see the foundations of the camps springing up around Lannisport, tents flying up as they were staked out.
"Lord Stannis Baratheon the Master-of-Ships has raised anchor with the Royal Fleet and has begun his journey to the Sunset Sea." Father said, skimming over the letter. Weiss had only heard whispers about the man, he was the most unpopular of the Baratheon brothers, and was her uncle Lord Monford's liege lord. "King Robert marches with five thousand men, drawn from the Crownlands and the Stormlands for Lannisport."
Oh, that was different. Why would King Robert come himself? Was it to defend his good-father, or did he have another motive? She didn't know much about their new king, who had overthrown the Targaryen dynasty when she was just a babe, but she had heard that he was a fierce warrior, and had a love of women. Obviously Yang would have loved the guy if she met him.
"The Lord Hand, Jon Arryn, has sent a call to all Seven Kingdoms to raise their banners, and marshal their ships to face this rebellion." Father continued speaking with a dour tone. "Lord Stark sent us a raven, he marches south with two thousand men, and from the Vale of Arryn, another three thousand under the command of Lord Yohn Royce."
That was at least ten thousand soldiers, not counting the banners from the Westerlands, and more would likely join on their march, minor lords, hedge knights and freeriders. Yet, their numbers would be useless if Lord Stannis fails to defeat the Iron Fleet at sea. It would be up to the Westerlands to feed them, unless they brought their own supply trains. And that would likely necessitate a deal with the Reach, who would charge them exorbitant prices for such a deal.
"Do you know what this means, Weiss?" Father asked, placing the letter down. Of course she did, she didn't need a grown woman's memories in her head to tell her the answer.
"It means our guest rooms are going to be full." Weiss answered with something a child would say, while also being very factually true. That earned her a light chuckle from Father.
"Clever girl." Father nodded. "You shall be assisting your Mother in accommodating our guest. King Robert and Lord Stark shall likely be staying in the rooms of Casterly Rock, our duty is to welcome those who would be staying in the Gold Keep."
"I shall do my best." Weiss bowed her head. If she did well, maybe she could get more responsibilities once the war ended. Father's hand hovered over another letter.
"We know you will, Sweetling." Mother smiled, her shoulders suddenly stiff. She eyed the last letter suspiciously. Was it a betrothal? Or something worse?
"This letter is from Lord Tywin." Father licked his lips, his green eyes briefly darting towards Mother. Was Lord Tywin curious about the reason why Weiss was able to kill those four men? "I have already spoken to him in person, but he still penned this command despite my protest."
Weiss took a deep breath.
"Lord Tywin does not believe that Lord Stannis and the Royal Fleet are capable of defeating the Ironborn at sea." Father started. "And as such, has come to an agreement with Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor."
Oh no, the Redwyne's had the largest fleet in all the Seven Kingdoms, only rivaled by the Royal Fleet and that of the Hightowers. Weiss had a lot of time to read up on powerful houses the past few days. Mother looked away, her small hands clenched into fist.
"You are to be betrothed to Lord Paxter's nephew, Stuar Redwyne, any children you bear shall carry the name of Lannister, unless a son should be born to me. In exchange, the Redwyne's shall join their strength with the Royal Fleet, under the command of the Master-of-Ships, Stannis Baratheon." Father continued, but Weiss had stopped paying attention. She had always known she would be married off, likely to an older man three or four times her age, which was disgusting, but she never had expected that so soon
Damn it! And what was Lord Tywin thinking? The entire realm knew that Lord Stannis hated Reachmen with a passion, everyone from the Wall to Dorne knew.
"And he wishes to see you in Casterly Rock, before the next moon." Father sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Our liege lord didn't mention why."
They did, Mother and Father just didn't want to admit it was because Weiss had killed those four men without an issue. Was he going to continue to question her on that? What was she going to do about it, in that case? Weiss had no idea. One thing she did know for certain, was that the future was going to be cloudy and dangerous.
There was a reason why lions had claws, and Weiss' were long and sharp.
A/N
There'll be a few more timeskips in the future, and as usual, we will try to use minor canon characters such as Robert Brax and Alysanne Lefford. I'm not great at creating OCs.
My RWBY merch from Roosterteeths last sale has started to arrive which has been a great inspiration booth. The Weiss tiki cup stares at me while I write.
At least the gardens of the Gold Keep were beautiful, and remained untouched during the Ironborn raid. And the weather was perfect for a tea party and needlework outside. Even if she despised needlework, it was still better than just sitting around doing nothing.
"You have such lovely work, Lady Weiss." Alis gushed as she looked over at Weiss' piece, a white lion on a background of red. It was decent at best, yet the two ladies seemed to worship the very ground Weiss walked on, changed ever since the raid. She could understand why, intellectually, but it felt weird now, her friends were worshiping her, far more than they used to.
"Yours is much better." Weiss said with a smile, placing her needles and expensive twine to the side. She grabbed a lemon cake, and started to nibble at it despite the urge to stuff it all in her mouth at once. She was raised better, both in this world and in Remnant.
Alysanne took a small sip of her tea, exported from Yi Ti and considered one of the finest in the world. It was sweet, yet tangy with a slight touch of honey despite not a single drop being added as the leaves brewed. It was Weiss' favorite since it seemed that coffee didn't exist in this world. "Why a lion of white? And not gold?" She asked.
Weiss' smile didn't disappear, and grabbed a lock of her hair, as white as snow. "I may be a Lannister, but Velayron blood still runs through my veins." Plus, to be fair, gold everywhere would be boring fast.
The blood of Old Valyria, Weiss' ancestors had been dragon riders if the history books the maesters wrote were telling the truth. House Velayron had been one of House Targaryen's most ancient allies, with both families often marrying members to each other since before Aegon's Conquest. They had once been the richest house in all Seven Kingdoms, but had fallen on hard times. Grandfather, the late Lucerys Velayron, had been the Mad King's Master-of-Ships, until a freak storm smashed his ships on the rocks of Dragonstone near the end of Robert's Rebellion before Stannis Baratheon could. Weiss' uncle, Lord Monford Velayron, succeeded him as Lord of Driftmark and the Lord of Tides. She had another uncle, one that Mother rarely spoke of, one of Grandfather's bastards.
Aurane Waters was just a few years older than Weiss, about twelve years or so, and was still her uncle. That was a weird thing to think about.
"House Velayron has such a long history." Alis added. "Being a descendant of the Sea Snake and the Oakenfist! It must be quite an honor."
"And Lann the Clever." Weiss smirked, turning her gaze towards Casterly Rock, easily visible to the north of the Gold Keep. She was far down the line of succession for the mountain turned castle, but that wasn't something Weiss wished for. Weiss was content with the things she had, and from what she had heard, Lord Tywin as a father would've been terrible. She finished the lemon cake and grabbed another.
"Careful, my Lady. Eat too many of those and you'll be as fat as a cow." It wasn't Ser Robart who spoke up, he was still standing several feet away on the pathway, wearing his newly gifted armor. No, this voice was higher pitched, and sounded like an idiot.
"Robert." Alysanne narrowed her eyes as they turned to look at the newcomer. It was Robert Brax, the second son of Andros Brax the Lord of Hornvale, and her Father's squire. His family was one of Lord Tywin's principal bannermen, making his position as Father's squire a political move. "I don't believe you were invited to this lunch."
"Lady Lannister, Lady Lefford." Robert said in greeting as he formed a lazy grin. He ignored Alis, likely due to her lower status from a knightly house. That made Weiss angry, but she concealed it. Even if he was a second son, she shouldn't ruin any political movement her Father was involved in. "I am not here to keep you company, I have been ordered by Lord Lannister to escort Lady Weiss to his solar."
Weiss rolled her eyes and stuffed the rest of her lemon cake in her mouth to spite the squire. She spoke once she swallowed the sweet treat. "Please continue without me. I'll try to convince my Father to let us go hawking."
"How lovely!" Alis pressed her hands together, a large smile on her face. She was always easy to read, and smiling.
"Indeed." Alysanne agreed. Her Father, Lord Leo Lefford was already marching towards Lannisport with five hundred men and at least a hundred knights. From what Weiss had overheard in her Father's conversations with Mother, Lord Lefford had been enraged, being the first lord to raise his banners in the name of Lord Tywin, ready to cross the Sunset Sea once they had a fleet to transport their troops.
The two girls were doing their best to try and forget the events from six days ago, attempting to move on and act like nothing had happened. Weiss wasn't sure if they had opened their eyes during her fight with the four Ironborn, but if they had, they revealed nothing behind their polite smiles.
"Let us go, Robert." Weiss said simply, standing from her seat and handing her needlework supplies to a servant who approached the moment she stood up. It was weird having servants. Back in Remnant, all she had was Klein, and he was more than enough for her.
The Brax extended his elbow, a common courtesy, yet not without meaning. He was a second son, and would not inherit the Hornvale unless something would happen to his slightly older brother. His only chance to advance in life was to gain a knighthood and be a part of his brother's household, or be married off to another family. As the Heiress to Lannisport, and Father's only child so far, Weiss must've been an interesting target. Many houses would grovel at the chance to marry a Lannister, unless they were named Tyrion and born a dwarf like her distant cousin, the infamous Imp.
Weiss slid her arm into the opening as she allowed the squire to take the lead. She spotted Ser Robart moving to follow her out of the corner of her eye, leaving the other six guards to keep an eye on her two lady friends.
"You grow more beautiful with each passing day, my Lady." Robert said once they were out of earshot of Alis and Alysanne. His cheeks, still with baby fat, turned a slight shade of red. Oh great, another lovesick fool loving the ideal of Weiss Lannister, not who she actually was. At least this one wasn't blonde. It seemed commonplace here, but marrying a cousin was still disgusting to her.
"Would you still believe that when I grow fat from eating sweets?" Weiss responded dryly. She wasn't going to forgive him easily for that comment. Robert Brax was only a few years older than her, around the same age as her bastard uncle if she had to guess.
Robert cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly. "I, uh, meant no offense, my Lady. I was only concerned with your health."
What a lame excuse, but then again, he was a child. They exited the gardens, passing by two guards in full armor and armed with spears. Security around the Gold Keep had also been increased, with Father raising more guards and increasing the number of the City Watch. Fortunately, there was no shortage of candidates, either to avenge their losses, or just to protect what was theirs. With the war with the Iron Islands just starting, the countryside around Lannisport and Casterly Rock would be filled with tents and bannermen from all over the Westerlands, and possibly the Seven Kingdoms. She swore she could hear the merchants salivating from here, given all the new customers who were about to descend on them.
"My health is my own concern, and that of my family, Lord Brax." Weiss spoke firmly. Calling him 'Lord' was a subtle insult, one that likely flew over his head. "There is no need to fret."
Robert pursed his lips to speak, but decided against it in the end, responding only with a single nod. A girl she may be, with only seven namedays, but she was still a Lannister and the Heiress to Lannisport. Unless she was married or dealing with more powerful bannermen, her word would carry weight anywhere in the Westerlands.
They continued the rest of the walk to Father's solar in silence.
The door to Father's solar was guarded by another pair of guards, these ones knights in gleaming armor instead of normal men-at-arms. Their armor was covered by surcoats of golden lions on red, likely Lannys, Lantells, or Lannetts. Father was taking no chances, it seemed. Not that she could blame him.
Weiss released her arm from Robert's hold, placing both hands in front of her. "Thank you for your escort."
"It was my pleasure, Lady Weiss." The Brax boy flushed and bowed his head politely. Evidently he was hoping for something more. A kiss, perhaps?
Giving him a fake smile, Weiss turned to the knights that guarded her Father's solar. They allowed her to pass, knocking on the door and announcing her before she could even speak.
"Lady Weiss Lannister." One of them boomed. He had a sword strapped to his side, his hand casually resting on the pommel.
"Enter." She heard her Father's muffled voice, and the other knight instantly opened the door for her.
"Thank you." Weiss said to neither in particular. Their faces were hidden by their helms, so she couldn't tell if they were annoyed with her presence or actually smiling. Mind, it wouldn't have mattered, they had their duties, and she had hers.
Father was seated behind his desk, dressed in a fine doublet that was likely made out of silk and wearing several golden rings, he looked every bit a lord as his eyes remained focused on one of many letters on his desk. Mother was also present, seated in an expensive chair that must've been brought in earlier. She sat beside Father, in a beautiful green dress that was complemented by her Valyrian pale skin. Mother didn't look as tired as she had been several days ago, unlike Father who had dark bags under his eyes.
"Father, Mother." Weiss greeted with a proper bow. She had seen them earlier that morning when they broke their fast together, but their busy schedules kept them apart.
"Hello Sweetling." Mother said, she was slowly returning back to normal with every passing day. It felt nice having a proper mother figure, especially one who didn't reek of vodka and hang out in the garden all the time.
"Weiss." Father briefly looked up from a letter before returning his attention to it. The windows to his solar were open, revealing the magnificence that was Casterly Rock before it. Not that she could blame him, the view was fantastic and well worth every penny.
"You summoned me?" Weiss asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes-Yes." Father sighed as he placed the letter back onto his desk. "As my heir, it's time we keep you updated with some of the news that's been arriving by raven." He motioned towards the extra seat that sat in front of his desk. She took it, keeping her back straight and not allowing her back to touch the back of the chair. If she did then her legs would be dangling in the air even more.
"Thank you, Father." Weiss smiled sweetly. More responsibility should be fun, and help to alleviate some of her boredom now that Ser Tylan wasn't around to tell her stories. His funeral would be on the morrow, and Weiss was sure to attend.
Father nodded and grabbed a letter, one with a broken seal that she couldn't make out. "The Lord Hand has answered Lord Tywin's raven, in King Robert's name."
Ah, so King Robert would be deploying the Royal Fleet? The Westerlands had no shortage of soldiers, hedge knights were already arriving for a chance to win glory and gain the attention of lordly houses. Already she could see the foundations of the camps springing up around Lannisport, tents flying up as they were staked out.
"Lord Stannis Baratheon the Master-of-Ships has raised anchor with the Royal Fleet and has begun his journey to the Sunset Sea." Father said, skimming over the letter. Weiss had only heard whispers about the man, he was the most unpopular of the Baratheon brothers, and was her uncle Lord Monford's liege lord. "King Robert marches with five thousand men, drawn from the Crownlands and the Stormlands for Lannisport."
Oh, that was different. Why would King Robert come himself? Was it to defend his good-father, or did he have another motive? She didn't know much about their new king, who had overthrown the Targaryen dynasty when she was just a babe, but she had heard that he was a fierce warrior, and had a love of women. Obviously Yang would have loved the guy if she met him.
"The Lord Hand, Jon Arryn, has sent a call to all Seven Kingdoms to raise their banners, and marshal their ships to face this rebellion." Father continued speaking with a dour tone. "Lord Stark sent us a raven, he marches south with two thousand men, and from the Vale of Arryn, another three thousand under the command of Lord Yohn Royce."
That was at least ten thousand soldiers, not counting the banners from the Westerlands, and more would likely join on their march, minor lords, hedge knights and freeriders. Yet, their numbers would be useless if Lord Stannis fails to defeat the Iron Fleet at sea. It would be up to the Westerlands to feed them, unless they brought their own supply trains. And that would likely necessitate a deal with the Reach, who would charge them exorbitant prices for such a deal.
"Do you know what this means, Weiss?" Father asked, placing the letter down. Of course she did, she didn't need a grown woman's memories in her head to tell her the answer.
"It means our guest rooms are going to be full." Weiss answered with something a child would say, while also being very factually true. That earned her a light chuckle from Father.
"Clever girl." Father nodded. "You shall be assisting your Mother in accommodating our guest. King Robert and Lord Stark shall likely be staying in the rooms of Casterly Rock, our duty is to welcome those who would be staying in the Gold Keep."
"I shall do my best." Weiss bowed her head. If she did well, maybe she could get more responsibilities once the war ended. Father's hand hovered over another letter.
"We know you will, Sweetling." Mother smiled, her shoulders suddenly stiff. She eyed the last letter suspiciously. Was it a betrothal? Or something worse?
"This letter is from Lord Tywin." Father licked his lips, his green eyes briefly darting towards Mother. Was Lord Tywin curious about the reason why Weiss was able to kill those four men? "I have already spoken to him in person, but he still penned this command despite my protest."
Weiss took a deep breath.
"Lord Tywin does not believe that Lord Stannis and the Royal Fleet are capable of defeating the Ironborn at sea." Father started. "And as such, has come to an agreement with Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor."
Oh no, the Redwyne's had the largest fleet in all the Seven Kingdoms, only rivaled by the Royal Fleet and that of the Hightowers. Weiss had a lot of time to read up on powerful houses the past few days. Mother looked away, her small hands clenched into fist.
"You are to be betrothed to Lord Paxter's nephew, Stuar Redwyne, any children you bear shall carry the name of Lannister, unless a son should be born to me. In exchange, the Redwyne's shall join their strength with the Royal Fleet, under the command of the Master-of-Ships, Stannis Baratheon." Father continued, but Weiss had stopped paying attention. She had always known she would be married off, likely to an older man three or four times her age, which was disgusting, but she never had expected that so soon
Damn it! And what was Lord Tywin thinking? The entire realm knew that Lord Stannis hated Reachmen with a passion, everyone from the Wall to Dorne knew.
"And he wishes to see you in Casterly Rock, before the next moon." Father sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Our liege lord didn't mention why."
They did, Mother and Father just didn't want to admit it was because Weiss had killed those four men without an issue. Was he going to continue to question her on that? What was she going to do about it, in that case? Weiss had no idea. One thing she did know for certain, was that the future was going to be cloudy and dangerous.
There was a reason why lions had claws, and Weiss' were long and sharp.
A/N
There'll be a few more timeskips in the future, and as usual, we will try to use minor canon characters such as Robert Brax and Alysanne Lefford. I'm not great at creating OCs.
My RWBY merch from Roosterteeths last sale has started to arrive which has been a great inspiration booth. The Weiss tiki cup stares at me while I write.
- Location
- Russia
I like how this story is written
Sorry, I must comment on my strong impression (recently my colleague at work got in such situation and I feel myself still enraged on her behalf. Sorry)
He is not loving Weiss, he is loving her title and money
Sorry, I must comment on my strong impression (recently my colleague at work got in such situation and I feel myself still enraged on her behalf. Sorry)
- Location
- La Serena, Chile
Eh, could be worst for Weiss.
"Privilege is her birthright, marriage her duty."
Besides, it would still be years before she marries Stuar Redwyne. Being bethroded only means there Is a contract in place for the marriage to happen in the future.
At minimum, at 12. By the time she gets her "moon-bloods" By her family could certainly push for a later date, and negociate to ensure Weiss and Stuar actually get to know each other before the actual ceremony.
"Privilege is her birthright, marriage her duty."
Besides, it would still be years before she marries Stuar Redwyne. Being bethroded only means there Is a contract in place for the marriage to happen in the future.
At minimum, at 12. By the time she gets her "moon-bloods" By her family could certainly push for a later date, and negociate to ensure Weiss and Stuar actually get to know each other before the actual ceremony.