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Raiden's Storm Chapter 63: Unravelling Legend
🕑 Added 2024-05-30 17:11:25 +0000 UTC“A bloody woman.” Lyn Corbray spoke his thoughts out loud alongside some of Edric’s bannermen, having a drink. “I wield Lady Forlorn with all the skill that one could ask, yet she - hideous beast that she is - takes the last white cloak of the Kingsguard.”
“It is rather ridiculous, I would agree.” Randyll Tarly nodded, being a traditionalist in terms of gender roles as were a majority. “A woman in the Kingsguard… a sworn sister. Though I admire our King’s martial prowess, there are clearly matters in which he is inexperienced in. Having a woman as one of his closest shields…”
He sighed, shaking his head.
“It only endangers him-”
“My, oh my, disapproval is in the air.”
Renly approached with an amused expression.
“Lord Hand.” Randyll Tarly spoke with a tone of respect. “Surely you see what most men do?”
“What I saw was Edric choosing one of his strongest and most loyal shields as a member of his Kingsguard.” Renly shrugged his shoulders. “Brienne is a woman of honour as well, a knightly figure without any ounce of pride or arrogance. She is too humble, one might even say.”
“If I stood where His Grace did, I would not have denied her for there aren't seven knights in the entire Realm I would trust more with His Grace’s life than I would Brienne.”
Renly’s words silenced them, though it did not change their thoughts.
…
“It is unfair.”
Loras strode from one side of the Hand’s - his lover’s - quarters to the other. Part of him felt ashamed of his performance; the other felt wronged.
“Why would He choose the side of that foul beast over me? Why is it that Arthur, of all the Kingsguard, is the one to step over me?”
“Is the answer not obvious?” Renly tilted his head slightly.
“Yes, of course.” Loras scoffed. “The King would choose his dear friends over those who are worthy.”
“It would not be wrong to say that Ser Arthur outperformed you on quite the stage.” Renly countered, shaking his head. “Even I would admit to as much. While you grew complacent, he kept taking steps forward.”
“If I had a Valyrian Steel blade, I would perform just as well - better, even. Far better.”
“A poor excuse, Loras. Ser Barristan never had any need for one. Many great knights did not.”
“...” Loras turned away, frowning. “It seems that even you side with Edric.”
“What is Ser Arthur to His Grace?” Renly suddenly mused. Of course, he knew, merely asking the question for Loras to find the answers himself.
“A capable knight,” Loras admitted, a talented swordsman - he even thought to himself, yet it was not something he would say out loud. “His faithful, trusted, sword and friend. He who hears the most of his secrets, thoughts and stands beside him the most.”
“Trust.” Renly emphasised, leaving his seat and stepping towards Loras. “Might you have done something recently that might have broken the trust he holds with you?”
“...” Loras’ frown dissipated into a sigh. “I…”
“Edric might be a boy in age, but his mind is far more mature.” Renly halted his excuse before it even formed. “He has experienced a great many things in so short a time. The dishonour and solitude of a bastard, the glory of being physically gifted, finding love and the tragedy of losing it, rising to princehood, leading battles and conquests, taking the steps to the Iron Throne… I could go on.”
“Being a bastard first and a King later has made him observant - knowledgeable of the true nature of most. He keeps his guard against those who merely seek to flatter him, making his trust and friendship something most chase after yet could never attain.”
“He will jest, smile and laugh yet that is no more than a courtesy. A flaunting of his charisma that enamoures so many. His smiles, as cheerful and moving as they may seem, perfectly conceal the sweet poison under them.”
“You seem to suggest that he bears ill-will against me,” Loras remarked, raising an eyebrow as he turned.
“Ill-will would be an overstatement. However, your act certainly lost what favour you did have.” Renly shrugged his shoulders. “In that regard, you should hope that Margaery finds a way to turn this situation in her favour. Other than that… all you can really do now is move forward.”
“Move forward…”
…
Meanwhile, in another chamber.
Arianne looked through the balcony with a displeased expression. She sipped on her wine while tapping the table with her nails. The skies had a few grey clouds, yet they did not hide the stars beyond.
Ever since Edric spurned her, she found herself in a constant foul mood that just would not wash away. It lingered, deep in her heart. The exhilaration that she had been denied, worse yet - the dream that the Rose of Highgarden had taken from her.
How could she, princess of Dorne, heir to an entire kingdom feel so powerless?
All it took for most men was a couple of sweet, passionate, words and they would be eager to service her needs - alongside their own. The one time she did get rejected in the past was by, amusingly enough, Renly Baratheon who looked very much like Edric himself.
That… was for more obvious reasons, of course. Arianne had learned of his ways a while after that experience.
Edric was far more frustrating of a case than Renly, being; a King, taller, stronger, more of a dominant presence and someone who didn't prefer swords to plowing fields. Merely, he had chosen duty and honour over her.
“Hmmm…”
She closed her eyes for a moment, putting her more vivid imagination to use.
BANG.
The door was suddenly forced open as a towering figure strode in, his golden cape fluttering with each thunderous step. The giant’s armour was heavy, the stag antlers decorating his helmet stood proud and strong.
He grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to stand, and leading the princess to her bed.
“You belong to me.”
His words were uncaring and cold as he forced her to turn to him, yet they only fuelled the flames in Arianne’s heart.
RIIIP.
He ripped and teared her gown with hardly any effort before his chilling, cold, gauntlet grasped one of her breasts and squeezed tightly. She could do nothing against his overwhelming strength, closing her eyes helplessly as she let him do whatever he wished…
Knock, knock.
The illusion suddenly shattered completely as Arianne heard two knocks on her door. She withdrew her fingers which had grown wet and sticky from touching herself, composing herself.
“Who is it?”
“Your favourite uncle.” Oberyn grinned as he answered.
Arianne decided to open the door.
“You did not look well, princess. Is there something that displeases you?”
“What does it matter?” Arianne sighed, shaking her head.
“I could send for a tall, strong, man with black hair and blue eyes if you wish.”
Oberyn knew full well of the target of her lusts and desires this time.
“Is it Edric Baratheon?”
“... Well, no - but it would be close enough.” Oberyn chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “Just close your eyes and imagine it is him.”
“I am not interested in some poor imitation.” Arianne crossed her arms. “It's either Edric in my bed or no one at all.”
“It seems that he not only inspires loyalty in men but princesses as well.” Oberyn laughed, turning away. “Well, if that's what you wish. I won't disturb your… rest further.”
Arianne closed the door shut and tried to imagine it all over again.
Meanwhile, Edric was sleeping like a baby in his bedchamber - wholly ignorant of Arianne’s degeneracy.
~
[Arthur Tudbury’s POV]
After having a good rest under his King’s orders, he found himself standing in the common room of the White Sword Tower. At its centre stood the White Book, two feet tall, a foot and a thousand pages thick. It was the book that contained the deeds and exploits of all the members of the Kingsguard since they were established by King Aegon I Targaryen.
Each Knight of the Kingsguard had one page each, some with far longer entries than others. It was the Lord Commander’s duty to keep the book up to date, meaning that it hadn’t seen any additions since Ser Barristan departed nearly seven moons ago.
He had read each page at least a dozen times since he first donned the white cloak, though his eyes had always focused on the knights who he most admired. Most were knights boys who read books admired, the likes of; Ser Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Ryam Redwyne, Ser Gwayne Corbray, Ser Barristan the Bold and, of course, his own namesake Ser Arthur Dayne - the Sword of the Morning.
Ser Barristans long entry of accomplishments, above all others, never failed to enamour the knight…
It was nearly four hundred and fifty words long. Even his entry going from his 58th year was more decorated than some knight’s entire time as a Kingsguard;
“In his 58th year, safeguarded King Robert in the uprising of King's Landing, slaying the treacherous King's Justice Ser Ilyn Payne during the battle. Failed to protect King Robert in the Battle of the Fords, forced into a retreat by Ser Jaime the Kingslayer. Fought in dozens of skirmishes across the Iron Isles and was gifted the Valyrian Steel sword Red Rain by the Crown Prince Edric Baratheon. Fought amongst the Kingsguard who led the charge into the Great Keep and later the Great Hall of Pyke. In his 59th year, left King's Landing under the order of newly-crowned King Edric Baratheon on a quest to return Princess Daenerys Targaryen to her home.”
I hope he one day returns to us, Arthur thought with a look of admiration. The only fitting end for such a knight is at his King’s side.
He flipped over to his own entry, well over a dozen pages after. In comparison, his entry was quite decorated for his age, yet still not even half the length of Ser Barristan’s.
“Ser Arthur of House Tudbury. Secondborn son of Lord Colton Tudbury of Shellcastle. Served as his father’s squire. In his 15th year, participated in the Grand Tourney of Storm’s End in 297 AC and finished second in the melee. Earned renown in the tourney’s lists, unhorsed by Ser Jaime in the third round. In his 16th year, sailed to Dragonstone to deliver word of Queen Cersei’s treachery to Lord Stannis, who then blocked off the Lannister's escape. Fought in Battle of the Fords with courage, slaying near a dozen men. In his 16th year, fought in every battle alongside Crown Prince Edric Storm and the Kingsguard during the Surprise Invasion of the Iron Islands. Knighted by Crown Prince Edric ‘Storm’ Baratheon and granted the Valyrian Steel blade Nightfall before the Siege on Pyke. Was the first to cross into the Great Keep of Pyke, cutting a bloody path. Slew Andrik the Unsmiling in defence of Crown Prince Edric Baratheon, saving him from a mortal blow. Apprehended Lord Balon Greyjoy and left him to Crown Prince Edric Baratheon’s mercy. Early in his 17th year, the first to be named to the Kingsguard after the crowning of King Edric Baratheon, becoming the second youngest to do so after Ser Jaime the Kingslayer.”
Arthur heard approaching steps and turned to see the door open.
It was Edric Baratheon, yawning his way in.
“I figured I’d find you here.”
“You have need of me, Your Grace?” Arthur questioned, turning his body away from the book.
“Categorically.” Edric grinned, stepping forward. “What page are you on?”
“Mine own,” Arthur answered honestly. “I was comparing it to the other knights of the Kingsguard, mostly those who came before.”
“Huh…” Edric went over and had a read. “Looks like it needs some updating. You’ve done a number of notable deeds since donning the white cloak.”
“Ser Barristan will have much to do when he returns.”
Arthur’s lips curled into a jestful smile as he shrugged his shoulders. He knew well of Edric’s distaste for formalities in private, taking a more friendly tone that was fitting of his closest friend rather than dutiful Kingsguard.
“He won’t have to add anything to the White Book other than his own achievements when that time comes.
Edric’s words certainly struck a cord.
“You mean…”
“That’s because you, the acting Lord Commander, will update it for him. It’s one of your main duties as of now, and don’t you dare run from it, you lazy bum.”
Arthur chuckled as Edric scolded him in a sarcastic manner. It’s not that he was lazy, but rather uncertain of what his duties truly entailed. Edric’s words confirmed that the rank Serjeant and acting Lord Commander wasn’t an empty honour.
“The White Book will be kept in pristine shape, updated wherever possible.”
“That’s what I like to hear, Ser Arthur.” Edric patted his right shoulder. “Now, I need you to perform at your best today.”
“That goes without saying.” Arthur nodded, lowering his head slightly. “Your old armour is on the line.”
“Yeah, if you dare to lose to one of Rhaerra’s men, I’m taking Nightfall from you and giving it to someone else. Brienne, Ser Loras - mayhaps the Hound…” Edric stroked his chin in thought. “Or mayhaps I can just keep it for myself…”
“It is yours either way.” Arthur smiled, shaking his head. “You may have it whenever you wish and do with it what you will.”
“Man, you’re no fun sometimes.” Edric scoffed.
“There is one more thing…” Arthur paused, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Before updating the White Book, I… might need to practice my writing.”
“Pfft.” Edric laughed at him. “Hahahaha… seriously?”
He found the matter ridiculous, poking fun at his embarrassment.
“That was to be a first in the history of the Realm, no?”
“I do not wish to dishonour the deeds of my fellow Kingsguard with mediocre penmanship. When I do put ink to paper, it shall be a worthy display for their accomplishments.” Arthur spoke with a tone of pride before glancing. “Besides, I’ve not written in a while, nor did I have any need to. I will need some time to sharpen my skills.”
“Of course, of course.” Edric nodded. “I understand.”
“... Though, you must not tell anyone else.”
Edric observed his embarrassed expression with a devious, almost plotting goblin-esque grin.
“Of course, I won’t. This secret will die with us when our time comes.”
“... Your devilish grin says otherwise.”
“Does it?” Edric’s grin faded as he blinked innocently. “I’d never betray my dearest friend, Ser Arthur, you know that. I’m only messing with you… well, unless you lose today. Then I might gossip with a couple of people, hahaha. You know how quickly gossip spreads here, don’t you?”
“It won’t happen.”
Edric’s expression changed as he observed Arthur’s sudden, insurmountable confidence. He had spoken as if his victory was certain, not from a tone of arrogance but rather peerless confidence. The aura he carried with him made Edric’s show a smile… a real smile and not one of courtesy. One of pride.
“Go on, then, Ser Arthur. Prove your worth.”
~
Author's note:
I was doing a bit of reading (I don't do much of it these days other than my own stuff and research, but I had plenty of time on a long ass 5-hour flight) and felt inspired, hence the more slice-of-life-esque tone where more characters and ideas are explored with greater detail rather than jumping to the next big thing. I find it's easier to get immersed into my writing this way, but it might be less climatic and interesting.
Of course, I am always open to feedback, but I feel that it enhances the quality of the work overall.
