act ii . chapter xxxvii

TAKING OF GULLTOWN
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ARROWS RAINED DOWN FROM ABOVE as the rebels sent their own up to the wall. The smell of sweat and blood and the sound of steel and screams had already filled the air. Arrows entered the bodies of live men and made them dead with a cringe inducing shlick. The battle had begun.

"HEAVE!" The men and the horses plungedw the battering ram into the gate's latch, causing a deafening crash to resonate around them all.

"Loose!" ordered Robert again as he pulled the visor over his eyes. He felt an arrow graze by him. He looked at his shoulder and saw the skid mark the arrowhead left in the armor. The sharp rods slid from the bows of his surrounding men and flew to the top of the wall, skidding past the fighting men and landing in their hearts, their eyes, their necks, their arms. Grafton, too, ordered his loose and the arrows came down and landed on the ground, in horses and in knights.

"Shields up men!" Jon Arryn bellowed through his raised visor. He slammed it back down and rose ahead to take control of breaking the gate. Robert could hear Jon's voice: "Heave!" Crash! "Heave!" Crash! "Heave!" Crash!

But Robert had important things to do. He jerked the horses reins to the side to avoid a falling arrow. "Nock! Aim! Loose!" he called to his men as he looked carefully around for any weaknesses in Grafton's defense.

All around him were the battle cries of victorious soldiers, screams of the wounded, wisps of flying arrows and the cracking down of the Gulltown gate. There would not be enough real combat until the gate came down... unless they scaled the walls. That was the goal of Lord Yohn's force, but now... Robert knew that wasn't necessary.

Maybe a bit of extra force was... "Loose!" he called again as he studied the gate. They had broken the wooden bar, but a steel bolt still held.

"Heave!" Jon's voice called. Robert whipped his head around and looked to his men who continued to follow his cue. "Ser Yohn!" Robert called. The knight turned from driving climbing spikes into the right turret and looked over to Robert.

"Fuck the scaling, Ser!" Robert yelled at him. "Come take these archers!" Robert screamed across the battlefield. Yohn looked confused.

"My lord-" he argued, his words drowned by the sounds of battle. Robert interrupted before he could get out any words of protests.

"It's an order! Do it now!" screamed Robert as he turned his horse on its hind legs and spurred it forwards with a loud whinny and a strong battle cry. His eyes locked on the bolt of steel that peaked through the cracked gate. "Loose!" he heard from Royce's voice. The sights and smells and sounds of battle began to well up inside of Robert. The anger that Grafton had caused.

He pushed his horse forward and leaned into the motions as he reached behind him and.wrapped his gloved fingers around the leather handle of his hammer of pure steel. "Come on, you ole wench," Robert whispered to his steed as he removed the spiked war hammer from his back. He held it out to his side screaming into the gate as arrows wizzed past his head.

"Out of the way!" Robert yelled to the men at the end of the battering ram. "Out of the way!"

"Robert!" Jon yelled at him in a scolding voice. Robert pushed Jon's voice out of his head and kept his horse going. That was until an arrow landed deep in its chest. The horse died with a scream and threw Robert across the battlefield. He landed with a thud and rolled across the stone, bumping his head in his helmet.

But that did not stop him. He jumped to his feet and continued on his whim, thundering through the arrows and fallen men and horses. He jumped onto the wide girthed, wooden ram. It didn't drop, but the men holding it up cursed at Robert and held it still. With all his might, the Lord of Storm's End brought the mighty hammer behind his head as he gained on the crack in the the gate with the steel bolt peeking out.

With a jump and a grunt, Robert threw the hammer over his head and brought it down between the grains onto the bolt. It broke with a huge clink! And the gate fell open along with the battering ram and all the men holding it. A hungry smile washed over Robert's face as he jumped down from the girthy ram onto the stone, moss covered streets of the harbor town. Men stormed at him with swords and the look of the seven hells in their eyes.

"Lyanna!" he cried as he sunk the spike of his hammer into the head of the first man who approached him. Lyanna Stark is what he was fighting for, so she will be his battle cry. Rebellious Valemen began to fall in behind him, the loose of arrows stopping as the knighted of the Vale started up the turrets, dispatching the archers with swords.

The two sides clashed and the swords came down upon each other. All except for Robert's war hammer which seemed to stand out among all others as he killed twice as many as other knights did. Not once did a fighter have the upper hand on the giant man who wore stag antlers on his helm.

Ours is the fury. The Baratheon words. And fury was the only thing that Robert felt as he pushed through the bloody swords to find the reason why he so wanted to breach the walls.

"Grafton!" Robert bellowed from the stone steps. He looked out to the fighting and searched for Lord Marq's red hair and longsword. The taunting fuck, Robert thought to himself. He searched frantically, dispatching true men that came at him, hoping to catch him off guard.

A young lad came running down the steps, blood caked on his face and a missing arm. His eyes were distant and he was talking to himself under is breath. Robert took him by the breastplate and threw him into the stone wall.

"Is Grafton atop the wall?" Robert screamed at the lad. The boy shrank under Robert's grip and dipped his head, sobbing. Robert ripped him away from the wall and threw him onto the ground. "Answer me!" he growled.

"Yes! Yes! Lord Marq is fighting atop the wall! Please!"

Robert regarded the lad no farther. He left him to cry for his mother on the steps and darted up the turret, his breath entering and exiting his lungs, ragged and fast. The rage that had bottled up in his heart bursted out atop the wall. He looked down to the battle. The Knights of the Vale were overwhelming the few loyalists. But there was a smaller skirmish up here. The last loyalists alive here were Lord Marq and a young boy. Perhaps a squire.

Five rebel fighters were taking them on and over whelming them, but Robert wanted Grafton for himself. "Back off, men!" ordered Robert.

The men immediately retreated behind Robert. The two loyalists stared confused at him. But he had no time for that. With a growl, Robert lunged toward Grafton, but the boy threw his sword between them. Robert smashed his sword on to the ground with his hammer and brought his fist and struck the helmetless boy on his face, knocking him unconscious.

"You fucking traitor!" Grafton seethed at Robert.

"At least I didn't betray my home, bastard."

"I've heard tales that you've actually got a bastard, Baratheon!"

"Not until I've killed you," Robert said as he swung his weapon at Grafton. He dodged it swiftly and it only angered Robert farther. The second time he swung his hammer, Grafton tried to block if with his sword. That was a mistake. Robert's hammer wrenched the sword for graftons grasp and came back at him with the spiked side of his hammer and before he could realize it, Robert sunk it deep into his face.

With the death of Marq Grafton, the battle fury spilled out of Robert's fingers. He grabbed the dead man by the breast plate and threw him over the wall into the heat of the fighting. "Your traitor lord is dead!" Robert interrupted with his booming voice that caught the attention of every man. And Lord Robert Baratheon took charge of the battle, ignoring Jon Arryn's terms.

"Throw down your swords and swear allegiance to your true liege and Jon Arryn will spare your life. Continue to fight and I promise you will die."

The fighting all stopped. There was a deafening silence throughout the blood spattered stone port city. "Enough men have died!" Robert reminded. "Lay your swords down!"

There was no movement or words for minutes. What would happen completely depends on the first man to make a move. Either swing your sword or throw it down, whores, Robert inwardly ordered whoever that first man may be.

The boy that Robert had knocked unconscious was the one to do it. He stood up and threw his sword at his feet. The rest of them followed. The battle was over...

The first battle, the Taking of Gulltown was a Rebel victory.

Rebels-both the men who took Gulltown and the ones who fought to defend it-cleaned battle grounds out and buried the men who died as either loyalists or rebels. Jon was back in control of all his forces. They rested and ate at Gulltown, but Robert have to leave as soon as the tides permitted. He readied a ship with merchant sails and an escort of Valemen.

Jon approaches him before he boarded the ship. Robert wore clothes of black and chainmail. A sword hung at his waist while his war hammer stayed in his cabin. His beard was growing gruff. He had no injury from the day before, but his shoulders were a bit sore.

"Robert," Jon said, getting his attention. Jon's heavy boots clunked atop the stone dock. Robert turned to face him instead of the sea. "You took the battle from me yesterday."

Robert smiled, the waves crashing behind him. "It was battle fever, Jon."

Jon nodded. "Whatever it was, you changed my terms. I said I would kill every fighting man if they took up arms."

Robert tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "We won the battle... do you have a problem?"

Jon shook his head and laid a hand on Robert's shoulder. "I'm saying that you are a natural leader, Robert. The changes you made were necessary to get people to follow you and respect you rather than to fear you."

"And you think people should be respecting me rather than you?" Robert asked, confused. "I didn't mean to take command over you, Jon."

Jon smiled. "Think about when this is over. You are the one who's ancestor is Orys Baratheon, bastard brother to Aegon. If all goes as it should, you'll be the heir to the throne, Robert."

Robert's body tensed up and he squinted at Jon. "What are you saying?" he asked slowly.

Jon smiled. "How did you think this would end. Take control, Robert. Lead." He patted his back and walked away with that thought lodged in the back of his mind.

He turned back around. "Wait-I knighted the boy who was the first to throw down his arms. Lyn Corbray."

Robert smiled. "Serves well for the lad."

Jon nodded to him. "Good luck in your travels Robert. Send a raven upon your arrival."

Robert agreed, but as he boarded the ship, all that plagued his thoughts was the idea of being king. He'd be the last of the Targaryens. Only that would mean killing children. Rhaegar's girl. The babe his wife carried. The mad king's youngest son. It made Robert's stomach turn. He supposed it was war.

The Targaryens have to die. That was what happens when their prince steals the woman he loved.