In the ti it took him to free it from its harness, cock back his arm, and hurl it like a javelin, Tywin Lannister had pulled his sword halfway from its sheath. The spike on the top of his hamr took the man in the elbow, piercing through the joint of his armour and the elbow itself with ease - and then the hamr’s head hit.
The wail of agony that erupted from Lannister’s throat when his arm was torn off at the elbow by the thrown hamr was almost enough to stop the fighting before it could properly begin, but then the Dornish were charging. By the ti the lion lord had hit the ground, torn backwards from his saddle by the force of the blow, the lee had erupted once more.
The battle lines lted away from Steve as he strode forward, stepping down from the fountain with a violent intent that was written plainly on his face and in his shoulders. Half the lords with Lannister had turned to aid him, but the other half were breaking through the fighting to get to Steve, warhorses battering footn out of the way. He was happy to et them halfway.
Rhaegar chose that mont to make his move, a hidden dagger lashing towards his face. Steve shook him senseless again, and broke the arm holding the dagger as he disard him. Then the first of the enemy lords was nearly upon him. They thought to ride him down, that he had been a fool to put himself in that position, that they would crush him under the weight of their charge, flank to flank with no room to slip between them.
Steve accelerated, shoulder charging the lead rider head on. He felt a brief mont of pity for the horse as he caved in its chest, killing it instantly. Its barding was no protection against his mass and force, and it went limp as its rider jerked in the saddle, all montum robbed from it as it collapsed. The other riders barely had ti to understand what had happened, let alone turn, and Steve elbowed the recovering leader in the head as he stepped past.
The gap that they had left in the lee was still there, fighting yet to spill over the screaming and still bodies. For so reason, none of the fighters seed quick to fill it, and Steve walked through the lines unaccosted, dragging the weakly groaning prince behind him by the scruff of his armour.
The lords who had stayed to attend to Lannister noticed his approach, sudden alarm in their eyes. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that those who had first charged had been caught up in the fighting behind him, leaving nothing between him and his goal. Well, almost nothing.
One man was quick to leap back into his saddle, horse surging forward before he was fully mounted and sword already raised up in a show of skill and daring. He was on him within a heartbeat, and Steve redirected the falling blow with his vambrace without slowing his stride. In the sa motion, Steve grabbed his sword arm by the wrist and held tight, not missing a step. The sa montum that the lord had thought to use against him was his undoing as he was ripped from his saddle to kiss the bloody cobblestones. The soldier let him go and kept walking.
Disbelieving words threaded with strangled panic saw the last of Lannister’s retinue rise to face him, giving Steve a glimpse of the man in the process. Soone had gotten a tourniquet around the stump of his right arm, and soone’s cloak was propping his head up like a pillow. For a single heartbeat, Steve t Tywin’s eyes, inevitability against denial, but then the mont passed and he dismissed the pale and shivering lord.
Crippling a man wasn’t very Christ-like of him, but he was struggling to find even an ounce of forgiveness for the one who had likely sent n to murder a woman and her two children, whose orders had gotten Yorick and his n killed, who would rather see the slaughter continue to wring out another inch of advantage than put a stop to it and keep what he had already won.
The retinue reached him, and he was not gentle.
No, he wasn’t feeling very Christ-like, wasn’t living up to the Word and the Way - but there was more than one Testant, and the Old had things to say about how to deal with those that wronged you, even if he tried to be better than that. He was not an angry man, but he was still just a man, and as he ca to a stop standing over the man he had crippled, he wasn’t sure what he would do next.
Dozens of families had been drowned at Castare, they’d said. Children, the elderly. Steve had long thought he would never kill a defenceless, already beaten man…but he had never had a man like Zola in his grip, had never had to liberate a concentration camp, had never had Thanos powerless before him.
He looked around the square; the fighting was ongoing, the royalists and Westerlands n striving against each other and a wedge of furious Dornishn led by Oberyn. The fighting was continuing out in the city. There were families dying there, too.
If he didn’t have Tywin, he couldn’t force his n to lay down their arms.
Steve closed his eyes and thought sothing deeply unChristian to himself. Then he dropped Rhaegar and knelt, peeling back the remnants of the armour on Lannister’s stump to give himself room to fix the poor tourniquet that had slowed his blood loss. Maybe the man deserved to die for what he had done, but if Steve could save lives by keeping him alive, he would. That it ant he didn’t have to tell Jai he’d killed his father eased the cold burning in his gut, but only a little.
The Lannister lord was watching him work, staying conscious through sheer will and grinding teeth even as he shivered, shock settling in. Whoever had propped his head up had removed his helm and coifs too, saving Steve the trouble. His golden hair had started to thin, made worse by an unfortunate case of helt hair.
Steve stayed silent, and there seed to be a bubble of quietness around them, the noise of battle sohow muted. Lannister sucked in an agonised breath as the tourniquet was tightened properly but otherwise didn’t make a sound. His remaining gauntlet was pulled off so Steve could check his pulse, finding it as well as could be expected. A high scream from so poor soldier choked off midway, and he shifted to checking for a waterskin, but had no luck. The mounts of the fallen had not fled, held together under the supervision of three terrified squires, but there was no ti to go and check them. The Dornish were advancing.
Seeing what had beco of their lord and their king had done the morale of the Westerlanders and Crownlanders no good, and they were stepping back under the Dornish assault - not giving way, but hardly shedding blood for every step. Here and there were knights stepping up, bellowing orders to try and rally their n, but the Dornish had been animated by the spirit of Oberyn’s fury, and they were still advancing. Steve saw a spear rise, an arc of blood flung from it, and then the two lines were pushed back far enough for the Dornish to have a narrow path to his side of the square. Oberyn wasted no ti, blazing eyes fixed on the two downed n beside Steve. His sand steed was flecked with blood, and it strode forward with heavy stamps of its hooves, tossing its head. So of his retinue followed, but most stayed amongst the lee.
Steve rose, stepping over Lannister to put himself between his hostages and Oberyn. He waited, and sothing about his complete lack of worry over his missing weapon made most of the approaching n’s hindbrains wary. At one of Oberyn’s shoulders was Deryk Vaith, the man whose family Steve and his companions had befriended at Harrenhal. There was no geniality on his face this ti though, only a mottled bruise showing through a broken visor. They drew ever nearer, and Steve set himself to attack.
Oberyn pulled his horse up short, slipping off the mount in the sa movent; those with him were forced to stop as well. He prowled forward, spear pointed down with its end tucked against his shoulder. His gaze flicked between Steve and the hostages as his retinue sorted themselves - the soldiers who had followed were turned to keep the ongoing lee from spilling onto them from behind, while Deryk and the two other knights or lords started to drift to the sides.
“Give them to ,” Oberyn said, coming to a stop just within spear reach. “I will have my pound of flesh.”
Steve ignored his words. “I won’t harm Elia, Oberyn. She’s safe, but if you want to pick this fight, you won’t be.”
The Dornish Prince paused at his words, but only for a mont. “Where is she?” he asked. His tone was suspiciously flat.
“Protected by my company at the West Goldcloak Barracks,” Steve said.
“You left her amongst soldiers!?” he said, fury and fear rising in him.
Steve found his lips rising in a snarl. “My soldiers aren’t animals who can’t be trusted around civilians, unlike so. My soldiers gave their lives to save her and Aegon.” He breathed out through his nose, nostrils flaring. “Send word to your n to lay down arms, and I’ll take you to her right now.”
The lee continued around them, lines bulging closer, but then falling back, pushing and pulling like the tide. The three n with the prince continued to step slowly outwards, as if he wouldn’t notice them moving to flank. Steve bent down, picking up the gauntlet he had removed from Lannister, even as he kept his eyes on Oberyn.
Oberyn ignored it all, staring at Steve. So of his hair had escaped the tie it was in, and a bead of sweat slid down his temple, tinted red by soone else’s blood. “You say that you rode ahead of the rebel army with only your n, took the Goldcloak barracks, broke through the defences of the Red Keep, saved my sister from certain death despite her escaping it this morning - and you will just hand her to , if only I have my army surrender?” His grip tightened on his spear. “You think a fool.”
“She was wearing an ankle length dress, burnt orange, with slits in the sleeves, and a topaz- if your n take one more step to flank , I’m going to kill one of them with this gauntlet.”
Deryk and the other two froze, even before Oberyn raised his empty hand to them. The look in his eyes told the story of what would co next, however.
“Your sister is safe and protected,” Steve said, trying one last ti. “The fighting can end now. The city can be spared more pain. I give you my word.”
To his surprise, Oberyn seed to consider it. “Your word, Lannister, the prince,” he said. “You take to Elia, and then I will give the order.”
Steve did the math. Considered what he would likely do to the two prisoners under Steve’s power, how long it would take to escort Oberyn halfway across the city to the Barracks, convince him that Elia was safe, and then send word to stop the fighting. The answer he ca to didn’t satisfy him.
“The fighting stops first,” he began, but even as he started he knew it was a waste as all the emotion that the Dornishman had been strangling ca flooding back into his face.
Oberyn whipped his spear up even as he lunged forward, aiming for Steve’s throat.
Steve didn’t move. He waited for the spear to near, and then grabbed it below the head, stopping it in place. Oberyn didn’t even try to free it from his grip, instead setting the butt of the spear to his shoulder and putting his full weight behind it.
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It didn’t move an inch.
One of his lords had taken the initiative to rush forward, thinking Steve pinned in place. He received a gauntlet to the head for his troubles, and he collapsed forward, a twitch of his head at the last mont seeing it clip him on its way past, rather than hit him square in the face, but he still wouldn’t be getting up or seeing straight any ti soon.
Deryk and the other knight were still coming, mace and sword aiming for his elbow and his neck. Steve shifted, eting the swordsman with a boot to the chest and fouling Deryk’s strike in the sa move. Oberyn had pulled a knife and stepped forward, lashing out with it to try and force Steve to release his spear, but that just brought him within arm’s reach.
Steve gave him what he wanted, but not in the way he wanted it. A twist of his wrist saw the spear head snapped from its haft, and then he punched Oberyn in the face.
It wasn’t as satisfying as doing the sa to Rhaegar, but it was satisfying all the sa. The lord he had kicked hit the ground as Oberyn’s head snapped back, nose squashed and bleeding. He was disorientated and open to a finishing blow - but then Deryk was there, rushing to defend his commander. Steve caught the high mace strike with his shield, but more to block his vision; in the sa mont his foot snapped out to sweep the leg, and Deryk was on the ground a breath later.
A broken spear haft thrust towards his face, but Steve snapped his head to the side and stepped forward for the first ti in the fight. Oberyn could squint through the pain just enough to see a steel helm looming large in his vision.
X
Steve set the last of his hostages down against the fountain. They were in varying states of consciousness, and around the square, the fighting was finally coming to a stop as word spread through the ranks. He could hear strained discussions as petty lords and knights argued over what to do in the face of the man who had walked into the fight and simply seized their commanders. No one tried anything.
“Deryk,” Steve called. “How are the ribs?”
“Battered,” ca the pained reply as he limped closer. Deryk had rushed him once more after he had downed Oberyn, and received a fist to the side for his efforts. He still had his mace and shield, but in the face of Steve standing over the brother of his liege lord, decided not to start anything.
“Do you have the authority to negotiate in Oberyn’s place?” Steve asked, still staring down at his hostages. Broken nose and enormous goose egg, broken nose and arm, missing arm - none would be going anywhere under their own power in a hurry, but he had still placed them just far enough away from each other for it to be an effort to reach out with violent intent.
“Not for what you want, Lord Arica,” Deryk said. “Lord Yronwood is the man you would wish to speak with.”
Steve gave a hum. “Send a runner. Tell him that I’ve threatened Oberyn’s life if I don’t get my way. The fighting stops, and no harm is to be done to civilians.”
Deryk winced, but nodded. “Yes. This is public enough that…yes, I will do so.” He gave Oberyn one last look, and stepped painfully away to see to it.
“You three,” Steve said, raising his voice. The targets of his focus blanched; two looked over their shoulders as if hoping there was another group of three behind them who had drawn his attention, while the third pointed at themselves. “Yes, you. Co here.”
The Westerland squires who had been trying very hard not to be noticed sohow managed to both trudge and scurry over to him, too nervous to think to leave the horses they were minding behind. When they were before him, they struggled to keep their gazes above his feet.
“Chins up,” Steve barked. “Backs straight.”
The squires snapped to sothing close to attention, and Steve nodded in approval.
“Un, deux, trois,” he said, pointing at them in turn. “Un, you’re going to help my hostages - give them water and any food you’ve got in those saddles. Deux, Trois, in that alley over there are so more wounded knights. You’ll do the sa for them.” He could already see the soldiers in the rest of the square starting to give aid to their own wounded, and was glad that he wouldn’t have to remind them. “Understood?”
“Aye ser!” the squires blurted out. They made to move, but then seed to strain in place, unwilling to leave without permission.
Steve gave it with a gesture, mind turning to the next problem as they hurried off. “Targaryen,” he said, “who is your second in command?”
Rhaegar looked up at him. For a long mont he seed to be staring through Steve, but then his gaze regained clarity. “Hightower,” he managed.
“Soone I haven’t already beaten up,” Steve said, tone short.
“Connington. Jon.” Maybe it was the blunt force trauma, or maybe it was the denial, but the prince - king, now - didn’t seem to be fully present.
“Where is he?”
“Near…the Street of Steel.”
Steve turned from the man and looked around for royalist lords, but they were thin on the ground and hesitant to et his gaze besides. He found one, pointed at him, and then pointed at the ground in front of him.
The lord pointed at himself.
Steve nodded.
The lord looked hesitant.
Steve raised his brows, unamused.
The lord ca.
“Jon Connington is supposedly near the Street of Steel,” Steve told the man; he wasn’t a high lord, but his armour was nice enough that he was either successful at tourneys or lord enough to be listened to. “Find him, and tell him that if he doesn’t order a general stand down and start policing his forces, I’ll kill Rhaegar. Do you understand?”
A nod said yes, and a gesture sent him on his way.
When Steve turned to his next target, the man was already waiting. “Lannister-”
“Lord Kevan. My brother.” The words were forced out, threaded with pain, and there was a heavy sheen of sweat on his brow, but he was eting Steve’s eyes all the sa. He took another sip from the waterskin that Un was holding for him as he knelt at his side. “He holds the Lion Gate.”
Steve nodded. He looked for a ssenger and found the remaining Westerland lords that had first tried to ride him down. He pointed at one of them, then pointed at the ground in front of him. The lord ca.
“You are going to-”
“Lord Lefford of the Golden Tooth, Lord Arica,” the man said, even as he dragged his eyes off Lannister’s arm.
Steve blinked. “Lord Lefford, you are going to ride to the Lion Gate and tell Lord Kevan that I have threatened Lord Lannister’s life if he does not order his soldiers to lay down their arms and pull his forces back to the Gate. No more civilians are to be hard. Do you understand?”
“Aye, Lord Ar-.”
“Go.”
He went.
Orders given, and with ti to burn before more could be done, Steve turned back to his hostages, dismissing Un with a jerk of his head. He stayed silent as he waited for the squire to leave earshot. There was no hint of pride or joy or anything on his face to suggest that he recognised the victory he was on the cusp of, and even Oberyn found the look in his eyes sobering from the way he managed to focus. Steve looked down on them, and flexed his hand, making a fist.
“You’re going to listen to now.”
Sothing in his tone had the three proud lords still, no longer shifting with the pain of their injuries. All of them had been children once, all rembered the dread that ca from being called to account by a higher figure, and in that mont they felt it again.
“There are caches of wildfire stored all around this city.”
Whatever they had been expecting, it was not that. Lannister managed to go even paler.
“It is hidden under the city gates, the Sept, the Dragonpit, and more,” Steve continued, tone even and asured. Only the straining creak of his gauntlet betrayed his feelings. “Everyone in this city is one looter with a torch away from a painful, fiery death.” He took a breath. “When your seconds get here, you are going to tell them to stand down. You are going to tell them to get control of their n. You are going to tell them that the war is over. You are going to do this because it is the right thing to do, and if that isn’t enough, because not doing so could kill us all.”
Deux and Trois had erged from the alley, giving Steve even wider eyed looks than before, as they hurried over to the horses to get supplies to take back. He waited for them to leave before speaking again.
“Whatever ambitions you had for today, whatever grudges you wanted to settle - forget them. They’re done.”
None of his audience were happy to be spoken to in such a way, but they had no choice but to sit there and listen.
“Jai is safe. A doctor is seeing to his injuries. Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon are safe. Ser Keladry - a lady knight - is watching over them. No harm will co to any of them while they are under my protection.” To Steve’s disgust, his ntion of Kel got as large a reaction as his ntion of wildfire. “I will-”
Steve’s arm snapped up, and nobles couldn’t help but flinch. When they mastered themselves, they saw Steve holding his fist in front of his face - and the crossbow bolt he held in it. His head turned slowly, deliberately, towards the window that the bolt had co from. It was behind the royalist lines. Without looking away, he tossed the bolt into Rhaegar’s lap.
“I will not hold their safety against you,” he said as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “But if you try to play gas with the life of the city on the line, I will cut my losses and move on.” He didn’t clarify what this might an, instead letting their imaginations fill in the gaps. “Nod if you understand.”
Three nods ca, though none ca swift. Oberyn’s eyes were fixed on the bolt. It would do, and Steve turned to call Un back, when he was stopped.
“You only threatened ,” Rhaegar said. His tone was nasal, his broken nose doing him no favours.
“Excuse .”
“You only threatened ,” Rhaegar repeated himself. “You said to say that you’d threatened Tywin and Oberyn, but you only threatened .”
Steve looked at him for a long mont. “Rhaegar Targaryen,” he said, and there was a core of contempt to his tone. “Twelve months.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Twelve months. That’s how long I’ve been fighting here, and not in Essos. Killing ordinary n here, and not slavers in Essos. Overthrowing a king here, and not freeing slaves in Essos. Twelve. Months.” Steve stared hard at the man, unblinking. “Do you know how many dead and suffering innocents that is?”
Rhaegar had no answer for him, and Steve was thankful, because he wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted to any excuse the man tried to offer up for what he had done. He had a sudden urge to distance himself from them, and he turned away, gesturing with his chin for Un to get back to helping. The boy hurried to it, handing waterskins to Oberyn and Rhaegar but kneeling next to Lannister once more.
The broken cart caught his eye once again, and Steve began to walk towards it, dozens of eyes tracking him warily. The hostages would know better than to try and flee, and if they didn’t they’d learn. His anger started to co back as he reached the debris. Dust and blood stained the child’s face, and for a mont Steve was taken back to New York, to Sokovia, to Lagos. He breathed and he was back in King’s Landing, looking down on a dead kid who was caught between the armies of n who only cared about their own.
The soldier knelt down, carefully shifting what was left of the cart off the body. He gathered the kid up as if they were made of glass, holding them close to his chest, and began to walk back to the fountain. The basin wall was broad, and he set the child down on it, carefully, gently. The water in the fountain was less clouded with blood than it had been, though there were still two corpses in it. He would see to them soon, but the kid couldn’t just be left there in the open.
The white star on his chest was sared with blood and dust, but he paid no attention to it as he stepped back to his hostages. They were watching him as best they could, wondering what he was doing as he stepped right up to them, and they got their answer as he leant over Rhaegar to pull at his red cloak. It was an enormously impractical thing to wear into battle, so there had to be so kind of quick release - Rhaegar lashed out, the crossbow bolt held in a tight grip and stabbing for his eye.
Steve grabbed the offending arm and stood, lifting Rhaegar into the air by it and leaving him dangling. He gave a sharp tug on the cloak and it ca free, and he tossed it over his shoulder. Then he punched Rhaegar again, pushing his nose further across his face, and dropped him. Oberyn gave a pained laugh through his own broken nose, but Steve ignored him.
The red cloak was draped over the child’s body, giving them so dignity in death, and Steve tried not to think of how it was likely worth more than every al and every possession the kid had ever had.
A young man - more a boy - had stepped into the fountain and was trying to lift one of the bodies from it. Steve t his eyes, and gave him a nod. Soon, n-at-arms all around the square were starting to follow in his footsteps, gathering the bodies of their comrades from the ss they had fallen in. n from three different kingdoms watched each other warily, but no one drew steel, and soon bodies were being placed in rows across the square.
Steve watched it all happen. The n he had called for would be arriving soon, and while he hoped otherwise, he had a feeling he would be adding to the bodies in the square before all was said and done.
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