I know it's been a while. But I got it done. I want to remind you that this is a fanfiction and I am NOT a professional. I am not even good at writing and coming up with plot, so take this for what it is: the work of a terrible novice.
And once again, I would like to remind all of you that POV stands for 'point of view'. And since no one knows more than what he either hears, sees or thinks, that's what you read in those chapters. Please keep that in mind.
Enjoy.
_________________________________________
(Jon Arryn POV) – The Sack of King's Landing
The city stank of blood, excrement and smoke. King's Landing burned, people screaming under the lions' actions and the brutality all too present. Gold and crimson cloaks clashed in the streets, indistinguishable in the heat of the moment. There was no order, no victory, no justice in all of this... only ruin. The scene was gruesome and terrible, seeing what the Lannister troops were capable of.
Robert walked through the mayhem like a warhammer. His weapon was lost somewhere behind us in the fray of the fight, yet it didn't slow him down either way; he needed no weapon. His hands were enough. He was still going, despite the hours-long fight at the Trident and the hurry to ride here on time; he was still going. But I could see it taking its toll. He seized a Lannister soldier by the jaw, lifted him in the air and smashed his skull against a wall until it burst like a bloody melon. The gory scene might have made me wretch in disgust if this hadn't been what he had been doing for hours now. He tore another from atop a sobbing woman, punching him so hard his ribcage collapsed like wet paper.
"Exterminate them!" Robert roared, his deep, throaty voice echoing through the alleys. "Any lion who raises steel or hand against the smallfolk dies!"
The men obeyed, unwilling to go against the blood-drenched Robert, turning their blades on the very allies who'd opened the gates. The sack of the city just became a new battle. I followed Robert as he tore through men left and right, the blood on him no longer only that of his enemies. It made me wonder how he was still going on when he had been fighting and riding for the entire day. He seemed possessed.
We fought our way to the Red Keep. I grew increasingly worried, watching Robert move and feeling my own exhaustion, since I was an older man and not the young stag. I could only hope that this was finally the end, that we would end this without getting into too much conflict with the old lion. We couldn't afford to get yet another enemy in this war. This had to be the end of it.
Finally, we reached the throne room and saw it. There, beneath the Iron Throne, the Mad King's corpse still bled from a stab wound. A single sword had impaled him from behind. It took me a moment to get my thoughts in order and look up, seeing Jaime Lannister sitting upon the throne itself, his golden hair flecked with a few drops of blood, but otherwise pristine.
Robert's gaze brushed over the lad who was smiling strangely and then over Aerys's body. But he didn't show any outward reaction, as if neither mattered at all. He moved his gaze left and right and then back to Jaime.
"Where is the princess?" he asked.
That was all he said about the death of the Mad King. The fact that he was clearly killed by the young knight, a king's knight, who swore to protect the king...
The Kingslayer's smile was stained in some way, insolent if you asked me. He said nothing but swallowed, not moving his head to look into Robert's eyes. Robert didn't say anything and turned to walk out of the throne room. He shoved men aside and strode for the royal apartments. I took a very short look at the young Lannister and quickly followed Robert. Who knows what he might find? I needed to hurry.
.
He found nothing.
As we hurried through the seemingly dark corridors of the Red Keep, the air was thick with the smell of blood, iron, smoke and excrement. Every chamber we passed was littered with bodies. Servants still clutching whatever they had in their hands with scared expressions, guards frozen in regret where they had fallen, eyes wide and glassy. I stepped over one poor boy who could not have seen more than fourteen winters; his throat was cut so uncleanly it made me rage. No one was a winner today... no one. My stomach churned, yet I forced myself on, looking for the most important piece right now. These had been innocents, caught between madness, misfortune and ambition. Each lifeless face made a voice whisper the same question in my head: had we truly saved the realm, or would we only trade one horror for another?
Did I make a great mistake? Seven save me if I did.
Robert pressed ahead, his fury, which had been so prevalent during the Battle of the Trident and throughout the day, silent now, his boots leaving bloody prints as he advanced deeper into the royal quarters. I moved to the right after one of my men motioned for me to come.
Robert didn't find Elia. I found her.
Elia Martell lay cold on the stone floor of a room with a carved-in door. She held a dagger in her hand, and I can only hope that it was that which brought her end and not the other wounds. Her dark eyes were half open, her face marred by blood and bruises - It was almost unrecognisable. Someone was venting his frustration. This wasn't good. Very, very bad.
I covered her with my cloak, praying Robert would not see her this way. Let him not look under the cloak, please. Gods.
"Help me lift her," I said to my man.
"Allow me, my Lord."
"No. I will do it. This is important."
He helped me lift her, and then I carried her back to the throne room myself, every step heavier than the last. War, they say, brings out the worst in men. I have seen things I never thought possible. I knew Robert was violent, but I never thought he would do what I saw him do to the Lannister soldiers. The brutality and violence he is capable of. I can only hope that his exhaustion catches up with him.
When Robert entered and saw the covered form, we all froze. The world seemed to hold its breath for a brief moment. He moved forward and knelt next to the body, or what was left of it. He lifted the cloth, and I saw the shape of his jaw muscles clench more than they already had.
Then came his voice, low and raw, as if he were fighting to utter the few letters.
"Who?"
No answer. No one dared to say anything, as it was apparent, but the tension was far too thick and pressing on everyone to say it out loud.
"WHO?" he shouted. His voice seemed to shake the walls, but I know that was only in my imagination.
The few surviving men from the Red Keep who were wounded and half-broken staggered forward.
"The Lannisters. Amory Lorch… Ser Gregor Clegane… they cut through the guards, my lord."
"..."
At that moment, and it couldn't have been a worse moment, the door to the side opened and through it walked the man in question. I almost cursed the terrible timing of the world. It was as though someone wanted to drench Westeros in blood even further and not let me have what I wanted, what we all needed. Tywin Lannister walked into the throne room with dozens of Lannister knights and men-at-arms, and he didn't look pleased.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?!" I heard the old lion shout.
Surely he had heard and seen what was going on in the capital. The Lannister men and ours are fighting against one another over the sacking of King's Landing.
"How DARE YOU?!"
Robert turned. And it seemed as though the storm, which had been cooling through exhaustion, turned more violent suddenly. The ice in his expression became a sun, threatening to swallow everyone whole.
Tywin Lannister arrived near the throne, surrounded by his guards and Lannister knights. The old lion's face, which was usually carved from stone, showed his rage. Step by step, both Robert and Tywin advanced towards each other. Robert's armour was punctured and worn, leaking red blood, adding to the gore and blood from his enemies. The ground itself seemed to quake beneath his boots.
I panicked. I knew that look. I had seen it far too often now.
"Robert, no!" I shouted in terror. "Think, for gods' sake! You'll undo everything! Everything we fought for!"
But he didn't care. He didn't even look at me. His focus was on the old lion, and I saw murder in his demeanour.
"Stop him, Ned!" I yelled.
Ned moved to intercept him. He raised his hands in a desperate attempt to calm his friend down.
"Peace, Robert. I know how you fe-"
But Robert pushed him aside like a child, barely slowing his stride. Ned hit the floor with a grunt, and before I could think, I stepped into Robert's path myself, pleading.
"Robert, for the love of the gods, THINK!" I pleaded, forcing the words out as panic filled my being. "Restraint... sanity… please!"
His arm pushed me next, sending me tumbling back, my chest filled with pain. And in that heartbeat of chaos, the Lannister knights understood what was happening and shouted for Robert to stop, drawing their swords and charging to protect their lord.
Oh no.
Robert did not care; he did not even look at them. Swords attacked him from all sides and cut into his used armour, striking and drawing blood. He broke them. Robert grabbed the arm of one Lannister knight and twisted it like a twig, using the man to smash into another. Each man was smashed aside as though their armours were nothing but an accessory and their blades no more than bothersome mosquitoes. I once again threw myself before him next, but the arm of a dead Lannister caught me and hurled me backwards. My vision went white as I struck the floor, the air driven from my lungs.
"Seven save us," I gasped.
I used all of my strength to look. To see what had been unleashed.
Tywin's composure crumbled as Robert looked down on him. The Lord of Casterly Rock backed away, step by step, his eyes wide, until his shoulders met cold stone. The golden and red, pristine armour looked less useful and imposing right about now. I saw the fear in the man's eyes. Pure, unadulterated fear. He opened his mouth to speak, to command and curse, but his voice failed him.
His guards and soldiers surged forward, twenty, thirty men in armoured plates and steel swords in hand. Robert met them with bare hands, breathing like a bull.
He smashed through them. His fists broke bones and burst blood vessels; his elbows shattered faces. One sword pierced his side, he roared in either anger or pain, and head-butted the attacker, splitting helm and skull. Another blade sank into his thigh; Robert held on to the man's arm, tore the sword free and impaled it through a man's chest. Every movement of his was violence and death.
Tywin's breath came in shaky, scared gasps as his protectors, who threw themselves at Robert, fell around him. Panic replaced the lion's pride; I saw it in his eyes, the dawning realisation that gold, birth and power meant nothing before this monster.
Robert reached him finally and seized him by the throat. His paw wrapped around the frail-looking neck of Tywin Lannister, and he lifted him from the ground. The old lion's feet kicked helplessly against the wall, and Robert, as he rose, desperation was visible to all. His face went from pale to crimson to purple as he clawed at the iron fingers locked around his neck.
"You did this," Robert growled. His voice was like a storm. "Your dogs… your men… that was you!"
"R–Robert—" Tywin's words broke into a gurgle. His eyes bulged outwards as he couldn't breathe anymore. He could feel his spine beginning to tingle.
"ROBERT!" I shouted, crawling to my knees with the last of my strength. "If you kill him, the rebellion will have been for nothing! The realm will burn again!"
"Like I care. It is time for this pup to understand that actions have consequences. And that this lion's neck can break as easily as any others."
His arm flexed. His fist shot forward, hitting the man's body. Tywin's body shook, his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Over and over and over again, Robert's merciless fist smashed into Tywin's body. I heard it, gods forgive me, the faint crackling of bones giving way, all the while the few soldiers still tried to kill Robert from the sides and stabbed him where they could. But most had stopped at this point, far too engrossed in the spectacle of seeing the seemingly invincible lion getting choked.
This was how this kingdom died before it even began: not with swords, but with a single man's fury.
But then...
Movement.
From the side of the hall, through the shattered doors, stepped a woman. She was soot-stained and trembling. One thing stuck out, though. She had a little girl clutching her skirts.
That's...
The PRINCESS! Rhaenys Targaryen!
The child's eyes were wide. And I wasn't the only one who saw her. Robert froze, and his head shot to the side, looking at the girl. The world held its breath once again.
Robert's hand unclenched, and Tywin fell to the floor like a sack of meat, gurgling and wheezing, his neck slightly twisted at an unnatural angle but not yet fully broken, apparently, since he was moving his legs and arms uncontrollably. He lay there, staring up at Robert in horror and disbelief, as though unable to understand why he still breathed.
Robert turned from him. Blood was pouring from his wounds, which I am certain is his own now. He staggered toward little Rhaenys. Oh no, another gruesome death. After the girl's death, no one in the realm will follow him. No one will make him king.
His gauntlets, slick with gore, reached out... and she went to him without a sound.
...
Huh?
Robert knelt on the ground, slowly getting his arm around her frail and shaking body. The fury that had shaken this kingdom melted away. The Iron Throne loomed to the side, but it no longer mattered. The monster of the battlefield was just a man again, holding the child of a dead woman, while the city burned and drowned in blood.
"My lord, he's..."
"He fell unconscious," someone said.
I watched in awe and terror. For all my years of wisdom, all my talk of honour and planning for peace and the prosperity of the Vale and House Arryn, I knew then that I had made a terrible mistake.
"I made a mistake," I told one of my lords.
"Mistake, Lord Arryn?" he asked.
"Gods save us. We may have doomed the realm."
_________________________________
I know, I know. How could he? How could this happen? How come he doesn't have limitless stamina? Etc., etc.
Who knows.
Btw. The rough plot is planned, and I need to make some adjustments and add more details for all those endless characters. I'll try to find more time between University.