act ii . chapter xxxv

OATHBREAKER
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"THERE ARE MEN IN YOUR HARBOR! Men holding that harbor for the king that killed your heir! The king who killed Rickard and Brandon Stark! The Prince who kidnaps betrothed ladies and uses and kills his Princess wife!"

Jon Arryn stood on his gray spotted destrier before his thousand-strong force of mounted Knights of the Vale. His wrinkled, pale face turned red with the passion of his voice.

Robert was sure hat they only needed five hundred or so to take the port town. The Knights of the Vale were no everyday soldiers. In the older days of Westeros, it took years to be a Knight and some men stayed squires their entire lives. To be a knight, one actually had to exhibit qualities of knight. During the newer era of Robert's life, one only had to have squired a while and be a man grown. Few men actually hat the true hearts of knights, Robert considering himself one of them. He may be a bit rough around the edges, but he knew he meant good. He would never harm women. He protected the innocent. All those things.

Even if he was not a Knight, he could imagine not doing those things. Besides all that, the Knights of the Vale were an elite force of all true knights and their specially chosen squires. Knights who could fight. Friendly loyal men who honored all their vows. Not that Robert could speak of vows. Many of his actions contradicted things he had sworn or his father before him. Of course the most prominent would be this rebellion. He kept telling himself that it was for the welfare of the people, but he knew it was for Lyanna.

"Are we going to let these men hold up on our land uses our resources for a king we will no longer bow to? Today, we will weed out these oathbreaking, disloyal, spineless pigs. The Vale will not split today, men. The Vale will be one as it has been since the dawn of time."

Robert watched as the knights held up their swords and screamed the names of their homes with a blind fervor. The heat of battle was approaching and it had intoxicated them all. Robert didn't raise his sword and cry for the Vale. Though he had grown up here, he was still no Valeman, nor did he bow to Jon Arryn. He and Jon were equals. Lords in their own right. And now, without Aerys, they were as good as kings of their kingdoms. Only Robert was here and the Stormlands was a month's journey away.

Robert wasn't fighting for the Vale, he thought with sour distaste as he rode from the Bloody Gate due east to Gulltown with Jon Arryn, Yohn Royce and the other Lords in the Vale. The force of knights that rode after them were hungry for battle. That was what Robert liked about them. Leading an army of soldier was like corralling chicken. It wasn't hard if you fed them and threatened them, but gods, you knew that they didn't want to fight. That they'd sooner shit their pants than draw a sword.

The Knights of the Vale were all war-hardened fighters. They were warriors not soldiers. They were ready to get the blood of their enemies on their hands. One Valeman knight was equal to fifteen southern soldiers. That was not even when they were on their horses. Robert was proud to be a part of this battle, and he knew that it would be glorious.

He wasn't fighting for freedom either. He had freedom. He was Lord Paramount of his own kingdom and first cousin once removed to Aerys. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to. He always had. No. Not the Vale. Not freedom. Not honor. Gods he loved killing. There's no honor in that. He was fighter for the woman he loved. Lyanna Stark. He was fighting for her freedom and to avenge her family. Rhaegar and Aerys Targaryen had slighted his lady and his best friend. That was where Robert's bloodlust lay.

They arrived at Gulltown in three hours time. It was almost midday and the sun was shining hard on their thick armor. Robert was thankful tor that. Cold winds were rising steadily since the new year began only weeks ago.

Robert's had his thick, black hair pulled into a makeshift bundle on the back of his head and his beard was that was arguably blacker and thicker was growing in with fury. The layers of chain mail and armor and cloak made him look twice as big as he actually was. On his war horse, Lord Robert Baratheon looked like god. Like a King.

The outer walls of Gulltown were heavily manned by stiff, hard men who reacted not to the arrival of their liege lord, Lord Robert Baratheon, Lord Yohn Royce and a number of other Valemen Lords backed by a thousand strong.

The banner strung above them was a tall yellow tower set aflame: House Grafton.

Jon began to project his voice across the clear ground between them force and the walls.

"Tell your Lord to show himself. Tell him his liege has brought terms. There are one thousand knights of the Vale here, so it would be best you don't tarry."

There was no reply. There was no bow. A single guard turned from his post and marched out of sight. Robert was growing anxious and ready for action. He stared after the guard that abandoned his post to relay the message to Lord Grafton. The rest of the guards spread out easier to even out the line of men guarding the short wall.

Robert turned his horse to move closer to Jon. "What are your terms?" Robert asked Jon.

Jon didn't look at him. "If they surrender, they don't lose their heads when we storm the walls."

Robert's eyes traveled back to the stiff, standing men atop the walls. These men will not surrender. Robert knew it. There will be a battle today. There was a worn road of stone and mud that went under the gate, but on either side of the road, the rocks were jagged, offset rocks with thin grass jutting up in the cracks. The horses couldn't track such terrain without the rider shoeing them specifically for the Vale mountains. The gate before them wasn't but 75 feet long at most. The stone gate ended on either side with the rising mountains of Gulltown's side, but steep cliffs on the visitors side were Robert and the rest of the army faced.

The valley was silent aside from the occasional cough, growl of a horse, or shift in a saddle. The lords at the forefront of the forces stared with patience at the top of the wall where they expected Lord Grafton to appear.

It wasn't too long of a wait, but the shifting of weight in the saddles and the stomps of the positioned horses began to shorten Robert's patience. He looked back to the two flying banners at the forefront. The white falcon on the blue flag for the House of Arryn. The one beside it was the black stag on the flag of yellow for the House of Baratheon.

His banner flew with rebels now and if is head wasn't wanted before this day, it was now. He though about his family. It was not the oldest house in westeros. Well... through the female line it was, but that wasn't the same. Not like Stark or Arryn or Lannister, no. No, his great ancestor, Orys Baratheon, bastard brother to Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya Targaryen, overthrew King Durrandon of The Stormlands and married his daughter. Robert was descendant from the dragon, same as Rhaegar. It doesn't matter that he didn't have white hair. Robert was born of the dragon and the storm. He was better than his bride-stealing cousin could ever hope to be.

And if he died here... he would leave his house Stannis and the baby, Renly. Robert assumed they would cave under cowardice and plea they loyalty to the Crown if Robert were to die here. They are in the south and had no protection but Storm's End.

The arrival of Lord Marq Grafton brought Robert out of his thoughts of death and back to the battle that was soon to ensue.

"My Lord," Marq greeted false-cordially. "I have come to hear your terms, but I cannot say that I will negotiate, nor compromise or conspire with treasonous rebels whether they be my liege or not."

He stood there atop the wall, holding himself fiercely and staring out at the bulk force with testing eyes. But Robert could see and feel the man's fear. How could one not feel fear when staring into the eyes of his superior with the army and directly disobeying. He was looking death in the eye. Robert respected the hell out of it. He was doing what he thought was right and fighting for it. They had the kind of fire Robert wanted to be in his soldiers. But he supposed that if he made the right move he could strike some more fear into Grafton's gut.

Fear will do a wonder to a man.

"If you don't, it will be death," Robert warned. "We will storm these walls and I will personally put my sword through your belly!"

"My lord," he said with a crook of his head, "I'm searching your force, but I can only seem to find Knights of the Vale. I see no Stormmen. And I assure you I have none behind these walls. So I ask: why are you here, Lord Baratheon."

Anger rose in Robert's throat, but Jon caught him. His cheeks flushed red and his gripped the reins of his horse until his hands shook. He was about to say something without thinking, but thankfully, Jon got to it first.

"Robert Baratheon is my fosterling," Jon Arryn projected up to the top of the wall.

"As is his oath, he has taken up arms under me and does as his honor requires him. Not only that, but the crown has committed some heinous crimes toward his house, and he is fighting as seen fit." Jon's face remained calm, but his voice grew in strength and enforced intimidation among both sides.

"Your fostering?" Lord Marq exasperated, scratching at his well-kept red-blond beard. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but your fosterling is a strong nine and ten. An man grown for three years. And where is your other fostering? There is a summon for Lord Eddard Stark's head last I heard. I don't suppose you gave it to King Aerys? If anyone had heinous crimes committed against his house, would it truly be your Lord Baratheon, or does that fit better with Young Lord Eddard?"

Jon ignored the question and gave a look to Robert, whose entire face was swelling up with anger, and telling him he should say no more. Robert pushed the feeling that was boiling deep within himself and saved it for battle.

"I am going to need my chief port for my warring," Jon announced more to the entire valley than to Grafton. "Surrender your arms and you will all live. If we have to storm your walls, all of you and your fighting men will answer for oathbreaking and treason."

Shock washed over the young Marq Grafton's face. "The audacity of your words, my lord. I respect the blind pride of yours. But whether I am the one who gives it to you or not, this trait of yours will be your downfall."

"My term are in no way audacious," Jon said pointedly, running his thumb over his gray, unkempt goatee. "Please enlighten me, lordling. "

A look of exasperated disbelief I came across his face. "What about your oathbreaking? What about your treason? I may answer to your, but we all answer to the king. If you say no to the king, where exactly are my allegiances supposed to stay. With the rebels or the rebels' leaders that they conspire to throw down?"

"You stay loyal to you home, Grafton,"

"You are the oathbreaker, Jon Arryn. The most dangerous types of criminal. You have broken one, who knows which you will break next. That debars me from answering to you specifically. I am still sworn to house Arryn, but certainly not you, Jon. You are a traitor and an oathbreaker, and I am not here to break any of the words i swore."

"Be that as it may," Jon Arryn said. "I am now going to take back my port."

"We will hold Gulltown until the day of our death," Grafton said.

Jon nodded. "So be it, my lord." He looked to Robert and nodded.

Inwardly, Robert smiled, but on the outside, he kept a look of steel on his strong face.

"Archers to your marks!" he ordered. The first two lines of knights did as they were bid and took the bows off their backs and held it at their waists.

"Archers!" mirrored Grafton. Robert smirked as the Grafton men scurried and struggled to get their archers into place.

"Nock!" called Robert. The sound of all the wooden arrows hitting the groove in the bow was music to his ears. But they wouldn't truly be singing until there were swords in the air.

"Gate!" He called this time. The man brought forth a battering ram for breaching the gate. The enormous tree was upheld by men and horses and would be heavy enough to break open the gate.

Robert knew that he had stricken his intimidation into Grafton for he had yet to loose his own arrows. It was his own fault.

"Loose! Heave men!" Robert ordered his men.

And so the battle began.

A/N: the first battle!!!! Yayyyy!!! Next, we have a Rhaegar chapter. Something big is happening!!!