It was a cold day in summer.
John sat around the fire warming up his hands and let the smell of Ash drown out the stench coming from the blood river, but the ash did little on getting rid of the smell of booze. He hated it. That smell made him nauseous, so most of the time he would move away from the fire to escape it, but tonight was different. Tonight he was listening to the Slayer of Kings.. Jacob Mallory. "It was nothing like I've ever experienced. Seeing my brother fall to the ground and die… by my own hands no less. He acted like his death meant something. It didn't. No one cared. Not his guard, not his people, not the whores that warmed his loins at night. No one cared." He turned and looked towards John. "What about you John, did you much care for Malcom Mallory?" He was already listening intensively, so when he asked he answered without hesitation. "I didn't much care for him, but my father… he loved him." Jacob arched his back and sighed, his clothes ruffling as he did so. "And you killed your father?" John moved aside his shoulder cape and took out his bow. The arms of the bow were cracked and the the string was splitting. He needed to replace them. "Yeah. I did." Jacob Mallory straightened his back and placed his hand on his lap. "Did you have malice towards him?" John flicked the string on his bow and looked straight into the eyes of Jacob Mallory. His muscles loosened. "No. I loved him. Family means everything to me." Jacob's muscles tensed. "So why did you kill him?" John grabbed his quiver and strapped it to his waist. "Why did you kill your brother?" Jacob thought about the question. He thought he did it for the safety of Alterus, but he didn't quite know anymore. Maybe he did it because he envied Malcom. It could easily be both. The thought lingered in his mind until he got up and walked to the edge of the blood river. "I did it for Alterus." John fleet behind him and stopped next to him on the rivers edge. "Is that what you tell yourself at night to sleep, or is that what you tell your troops back there so they stay loyal to you?" His muscles tensed even more and the hair on the back of his neck peaked. Jacob knew the answer, but he didn't say anything. He just watched as the blood river raged on. John knew the answer too. It was written in his body language and movement. 'Slayer Of Kings huh? Why is he shaking in his boots?' The thought never left him. He took an arrow from his quiver and drenched the tip in the blood river. Lifting it, he saw that it hardened almost instantly. He hadn't a clue to why, but it didn't last. The crimson covering quickly decayed and fell apart. "You didn't answer me." John didn't hesitate. "I killed him because he was a fool. Just like your brother." Jacob wiped the sweat from his brow and turned around to see his army. Twenty thousand men stood, but what puzzled him was the 40 archers in the the front. Surely they would be placed in the middle or at the end, but it didn't matter. He would soon be the king of Highguard.
The night came and ended swiftly and at first light they rode off to the borders of Flame March. John saddled up and went to the front of the army alongside Jacob, he was ready to go home. It'd been years since he's been and now that the war was over he could finally get back to see his wife and a daughter he's never met. It would be awkward for him. To see and love someone he's never met. It's a claustrophobic feeling for sure, but after today he would be seen as a hero, but he wasn't sure if he was to keen on the prospect.
Jacob placed his hand on John's shoulder. "How does it feel being back?" John looked over the hills and saw it. A volcano. The great forge of the legendary blacksmith Rom. John was so close to home, but there were things that had to be dealt with first. He turned his head towards Jacob. "Let's stop for the night." Jacob takes his hand off John's shoulder and turns his horse around to face his army. He raises his hand and takes a deep breath. "MARCH FORWARD!"
John turned his head and watched as Jacob Mallory came beside him. "We can't stop now John. We are nearly there." John grimaced at the statement.
Hours passed, and they finally made it to the borders of Flame march. Jacob got off his horse and looked across the fields. It was dark, and that darkness perpetuated in him a feeling of claustrophobia. His muscles tensed. They always did. When he was younger he was always told that that feeling was his gut letting him know of danger. He hadn't listen to it before, but now. It was different.
He walked forward slightly and saw that there was a bridge connecting Highguard to Flamemarch. He hadn't a clue to why though. There was no river or lake in there path, but there it was, a bridge in the middle of a moonlit field. He moved ever closer. The closer he got the more that was revealed to him. There were two flags placed in the direct center of the bridge. He squinted to see if he could make out what was on the flags. He couldn't tell. Pacing ever closer he saw that the two flags were white and entwined together. It read out 'TRAITOR'.
Jacob turned around. "All! TO ME!" No one moved. He looked to John. "JO..." John's arrow peirced through Jacob's body and exited through the other side. Jacob grabbed his chest with both hands. Blood sept through the seams and he stumbled to his knees. he looked out to his army. Forty archers drawed their bows. John raised his hand. "LOOSE!"
The sound of the arrows flying was, ironically, very calming to Jacob. He didn't think that would be the case, but it was. His muscles loosened and he felt levity. He wondered why, but it's not like it mattered much now. Nothing mattered. Not him. Not his choices, nothing.
A.N
THIS is probably only gonna be it. This was only a test to see if I want to put professional work on here. This wasn't edited or even looked through. I wrote by the seams of my pants and didn't look back.