Stannis stood atop of the hill, at the chosen hour. It was a hill he knew well. He would go fly Proudwing along its ridges, watching as the hawk spread its wings and soared above the fortress of the Durrandons.
These were simpler times, times before the Rebellion when he could be free of the burdens that his brothers had placed on him. But now Proudwing was gone, and so were these joyful times. He had to do his duty. To his brother, to his house, and to his people.
With Robert dead and his children born of incest, it was on his head that the crown belonged. And yet, only house Seaworth of the Stormlands had joined his side, along with a few houses from the Crownlands.
He would see their loyalty rewarded. What he wouldn't tolerate, though, were the treasonous houses that had aligned with his brother, Renly.
But they would bend the knee, in time. He knew most of the lords on Renly's side, and they would flock to him should his treasonous brother die, and the Florents would bring some of the Reach's support.
His wife had told him that her uncles Alester and Axell would flock to him should he get rid of Renly, something he didn't wholeheartedly believe, but something that Selyse was absolutely categorical about.
But this still left the case of his treasonous little brother. Stannis held the hope that he would bend the knee to him and be named heir until he sired a son, but those hopes were dashed at the parlay where Renly stubbornly refused to bend the knee. It gave him no joy for him to declare his brother traitor and organize his death.
Melisandre had given him a son, and that son had, for all intents and purposes, achieved its goal, according to the Red Priestess. Despite Renly seemingly dying, Melisandre had been shaken by this act, calling for the death of "the prince of the Rhoynar".
Stannis wasn't stupid enough to not know who that was considering the presence of the Dornish amidst Renly's camp, but he also knew enough about his present situation that ordering the death of the heir to Dorne would not benefit him in any way. No, Dorne would bend in time, but there were better objectives for the moment.
And it had seemed that Melisandre had recovered from the day's experience, seeing as she rode to the battle along with his knights and men-at-arms.
Looking down on the various banners floating in the wind, he had sincerely hoped that it would not come to battle.
There were good men amongst his host, men that would have been put to better use putting down the Lannisters rather than proving to them that the Lord of Light was behind them. But it would need to be done.
His hopes of Renly's death causing a dissolution of the Reach-Stormlands alliance had shattered, and it seemed that it would come to battle after all. And he would have been a fool not to contemplate that this was indeed a possibility.
As such, he has chosen the time and place perfectly. He knew Storm's End and its surroundings like no other man in the known world. He knew exactly where to give battle.
He had chosen a hill located between Storm's End and Renly's camp. One that overlooked both, so to see exactly what positions each camp would take and how the battle was going.
He had chopped down every single tree on the outskirts of the hill to force the Reacher cavalry into a small chokepoint where his opponent's numbers would no longer matter. He had chosen dawn as the time of battle so that Renly's cavalry, tired after charging up the hill, would be completely blinded by the rising sun.
He had scattered his men to hold the hill in front of Renly's camp and had entrusted his left to Ser Perkin Follard, a capable knight, and the right to Ser Gilbert Farring, a capable commander in his own right.
He, on the other hand, would hold the centre while he entrusted his reserves to Ser Davos Seaworth, who would have to hold any sortie from Storm's End with the help of Melisandre.
This was a battle he intended to win.
As dawn broke and he saw the banners flying, Stannis smiled. Everything was going as planned. Renly had only brought cavalry to the siege, too pressed by time. The Reachers had the vanguard, and it would shatter the moment they hit his lines. Then, the Stormlanders on the flanks would falter, else they suffer the same fate.
Suddenly, a horn blew in the distance, and a cloud of dust formed at the foot of the hill.
Stannis nodded grimly. It was time.
He put on his helm and ordered his small force of archers to rain their arrows upon the attackers.
"NOCK!" yelled a captain. "DRAW! LOOSE!"
The first volley wasn't impressive. It didn't black out the sky like the volleys of the Redgrass Field, nor did it cause considerable damage to his opponent, but fewer knights to deal with was always a good thing.
Seeing that his opponent's cavalry was having a hard time scaling the hill, he ordered a second volley to be fired.
"NOCK! DRAW! LOOSE!"
The arrows flew, and once more, they helped in taking down a few knights. A precious few that his men wouldn't have to deal with.
Time was now of the essence. The knights were halfway up the hill and could reach his lines soon. Nevertheless, there would still be time for a third volley, which he immediately ordered.
"NOCK! DRAW! LOOSE!"
The arrows rained down upon the Reachers yet again, and this time Stannis saw the banners of houses Hunt and Norcross fall from the charge. A few less knights, a few less men…
However, the knights would soon be upon them, and as such, Stannis ordered his archers back.
"ARCHERS, WITHDRAW!" he yelled.
They did as told, quickly hurrying back to the small woods atop the hill, while some would reinforce Davos' reserves to keep Ser Cortnay Penrose from trying to pincer them.
Soon, the unnerving sound of thousands of knights charging became clearer, until he could hear his enemies' voices as clear as day.
"KINSLAYER! KINSLAYER!"
"FOR RENLY AND THE CROWNED STAG!"
The shock was brutal. The Reacher cavalry's charge was been completely destroyed by Stannis' men, with dying horses littering the hill. Yet, they kept coming.
Some horses eventually broke through the first line, sweeping into Stannis' lines, but were also brutally cut down, having lost support from their peers. Men fell to his left. Men fell to his right. He shook his head. What had been their plan? To simply charge and hope that the sun would stop blinding them?
"HOLD THE LINE!" he shouted, unsheathing his flaming sword, Lightbringer.
"STANNIS! STANNIS!" shouted his men, reinvigorated as another wave of horses came crashing in, more violently even than the first.
This time, though a few horses had managed to break Stannis' line, and headed straight for him. A knight of house Graceford threw a spear at him, wounding his horse, and forcing him to start fighting on foot.
The knight raised his sword and charged at Stannis, yelling some incomprehensible words. The fool wasn't skilled enough. It only took a few swings for Stannis to shove his sword into the poor bastard's exposed neck.
Looking back at his line, he saw his men struggle with another wave of horses that had broken through. Enraged, he took his sword, plunged it into a man bearing the colours of House Tyrell, and bellowed.
"TRUE MEN OF THE CROWN! FORCE THEM BACK! THIS IS OUR HILL! OURS IS THE FURY!"
"OURS IS THE FURY!" chanted his men.
This had reinvigorated them again. His line kept holding while his few knights helped deal with the few that came through. The smell of dead Reacher horses and men alike started filling the air, with his armor starting to look crimson as he continued cutting down men around him.
Suddenly a young knight charged at him with tremendous speed.
"KINSLAYER!" the knight clad in Tyrell colours roared. "YOU WILL DIE! FOR RENLY!"
Stannis didn't bother responding and focused in the knight's direction. The poor lad had lost his helm and had long, brown hair. Staring for a moment into the boy's golden eyes, he could only see one thing: hate.
And it is with all of that hate that the knight charged into him, forcing him on the defensive. Every blow that the knight dealt, he could feel himself losing ground or balance. Stannis tried to stand his ground, to fight back, but it was no use.
The boy in front of him was more skilled than him. And he was fuelled by anger. His sword wasn't anything more than a minor hinderance for the young knight, who ignored the flames coming out of Lightbringer and only focused on hacking Stannis to pieces.
He needed to find an opening, and quick. However, the knight's blows were quick, leaving no room for Stannis to hit an exposed area. But he had to. His life depended on it.
"YOU TRIED TO KILL YOUR OWN BROTHER!" the knight yelled. "YOU BURNT THE HOME OF THE GODS! YOU AND YOUR FLAMING SWORD AND GODS CAN BURN IN THE SEVEN HELLS WHERE YOU BELONG!"
Tried? No, Renly was dead. He had to be.
"I WILL END YOU!" the knight screamed.
Stannis tried to parry the next strike, but lost his footing on a knight's body and fell to the ground, losing a grip on his sword.
"DIE!" the knight raised his sword for the kill, while Stannis desperately searched for his.
No! It couldn't end like this. Melisandre had promised him victory. She had seen it in the flames. It couldn't end now!
But he wouldn't shy away from death. He would remain defiant till the end. He turned back, facing the young knight, and found that his mouth was full of blood, and the sword that had been raised to slay him was now lying on the ground. Another sword had cut through his neck.
"Ren...ly…" the young knight managed to gargle, spitting blood, before falling to the ground.
Behind him, another lord stood, his blade drenched in blood, as he extended a hand to help Stannis up. Not finding his sword, he had to settle for the fallen knight's one. A richly decorated sword, with a pommel decorated with golden roses.
The man before him was tall and had also lost his helm. His silver-blonde hair flowed freely above his neck, with half of his face drenched in blood. If he didn't know better, he would have mistaken him for a Targaryen.
"Lord Monford." He nodded. "I owe you a debt."
"None of that now, your grace." The Velaryon lord shouted. "Ser Gilbert is having trouble on the right. The Stormlanders are close to breaking through."
Stannis nodded and was about to motion for him to get Ser Davos and have him direct some of his forces to help Ser Gilbert.
Unfortunately, a wall of flame appeared in the distance, at his back.
Ser Cortnay was attempting to ride out. He would be sorely disappointed at the welcoming party he would receive.
But this also meant that he had no reserves left.
"Hold the centre, Lord Velaryon, I will assist Ser Gilbert."
"But, your grace…"
"This is an order, Lord Velaryon!"
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