Beside Storm's End, the massive gray fortress rose toward the heavens beneath the faint light of dawn. The war between the Baratheon brothers had begun in haste, and its conclusion had come even faster.
For Renly Baratheon, the campaign had ended in humiliating defeat.
His first war as king had been decided almost from the very beginning. Though he survived, the battle itself had exposed the fragile foundation beneath his shining crown.
Renly's magnificent green armor, gilded antlers, and handsome appearance could not save him. If anything, they only made the war seem like a child playing at kingship.
The Stormlands army had failed to break through Stannis Baratheon's fortified camp outside Storm's End. Worse still, Ser Loras Tyrell had been severely wounded during the assault.
As the retreat began, the army encountered another devastating blow.
Ser Bryce Caron and Ser Cortnay Penrose, once among Renly's trusted supporters, turned against him during the withdrawal. With morale already shattered, much of Renly's host abandoned him almost immediately.
The banners of the Stormlands wavered uncertainly in the cold morning wind.
Ser Bryce Caron, Ser Cortnay Penrose, Ser Guyard Morrigen, and several other nobles quickly took control of the retreating forces. They reorganized the army into defensive formations but made no effort to continue the attack against Stannis.
Thus, the battlefield fell into another tense stalemate.
Renly sat atop his horse in silence.
For the first time since crowning himself king, he truly felt despair.
"Have the gods abandoned me?" he thought bitterly.
His good fortune seemed to have ended at last.
Slowly, Renly dismounted from his horse. He looked around at the faces surrounding him.
Hostile.
Cold.
Disappointed.
Only yesterday, these men had bowed before him as their king.
Now, they looked at him as a failed rebel.
Renly forced himself to smile despite the bitterness in his chest.
"Ser Bryce Caron. Ser Guyard Morrigen. Ser Cortnay Penrose…"
"You were once my sworn guards."
"Ser Cortnay, I appointed you castellan of Storm's End myself."
"I treated all of you generously. Was that loyalty worth nothing?"
The surrounding knights lowered their gazes uneasily.
At last, Ser Bryce Caron spoke.
"My lord… I am sorry."
"But everything you possessed was given to you by King Robert."
"We do not wish to see the Stormlands bleed further for your ambition."
Renly's smile faded slightly.
"By law and custom," he replied quietly, "you should address me as Your Grace."
Ser Guyard Morrigen turned his face away.
"Forgive us, my lord, but you betrayed King Robert's rightful line."
The words struck Renly harder than any sword.
At first, Renly's confidence had soared. His charm, the support of the Reach, and the splendor of his court had convinced many that victory was inevitable.
Even Renly himself had begun believing it.
But the war had progressed too quickly.
Every battle had carried unexpected consequences.
The rise of the Stormcrows.
The uncertain stance of the Vale.
The wavering loyalty of the Stormlords.
One by one, the foundations beneath Renly's throne crumbled away.
Now, those who once praised him had abandoned him entirely.
Even House Tyrell's support no longer seemed certain.
Loras Tyrell, burned during the assault, had already been carried away by Tyrell guards for treatment.
Renly let out a bitter laugh.
"I suppose I truly am not Robert."
"I copied his smile… his confidence… even his mannerisms."
"But I never earned the loyalty he inspired."
Suddenly, a tall armored figure shoved through the crowd.
"What are you doing?!"
Brienne of Tarth rushed to Renly's side, gripping her sword tightly.
Her blue eyes burned with fury as she glared at the surrounding lords.
Ser Bryce. Ser Cortnay. Ser Guyard.
All of them had abandoned Renly.
Brienne's hands trembled with rage.
Unlike the others, she had never followed Renly for ambition or glory.
To her, Renly Baratheon had been light itself.
The one nobleman who had shown her kindness when the world mocked her.
Ser Cortnay sighed softly.
"Girl, I bear you no ill will."
"But you are a woman."
"You should return to Tarth, not remain upon a bloody battlefield."
Brienne ignored him completely.
Her gaze remained fixed on Renly.
Renly himself smiled gently.
"It's alright, Brienne."
"You've already repaid your debt to me."
"If not for you earlier, I would have died beneath a spear."
He stepped closer and rested a hand upon her armored shoulder.
"Now let me face this as a true knight."
"Not as a man hiding behind a woman."
Brienne lowered her head silently.
For a moment, her eyes seemed close to tears.
Renly turned back toward the assembled lords.
"How is Loras?"
Ser Parmen Crane answered respectfully.
"Ser Loras survived, Your Grace."
"His face was unharmed, but boiling oil badly burned his back and neck."
"He has already been sent to the maesters."
Renly nodded slowly.
Despite Loras's reckless devotion, the Tyrell bannermen still protected him carefully.
After all, House Tyrell was among the greatest powers in Westeros.
The Reach fed half the realm.
No one wished to offend Highgarden unnecessarily.
At last, Renly surrendered himself peacefully.
The storm lords did not mistreat him.
Though they stripped away his weapons, dagger, and helmet, they still treated him with the respect owed to the former Lord of Storm's End.
Meanwhile, from the opposite side of the battlefield, Stannis Baratheon emerged from his camp.
The sound of armor clanking echoed across the plain.
Behind him marched hardened soldiers and sellswords.
Unlike Renly's glittering knights, Stannis's men wore plain armor and weathered leather.
But they were veterans.
Survivors.
Men who had endured hardship for years beside their grim commander.
At Stannis's side stood the Red Priestess.
Melisandre's crimson robes swayed in the cold wind like flowing blood.
Stannis studied the reorganized Stormlands army carefully.
Though he had technically won the battle, he had failed to gain the true prize.
The Stormlords had surrendered Renly…
But not themselves.
Their army remained mostly intact.
Their loyalty remained uncertain.
The two Baratheon brothers faced each other at last.
Renly sat upon his horse with a tired smile.
"I lost," he admitted.
"But you didn't truly win either, brother."
Stannis's expression remained unreadable.
"What will become of him?" he asked the assembled lords.
Ser Bryce Caron bowed respectfully.
"We await the judgment of the rightful king."
"Renly Baratheon is a rebel."
Stannis looked toward the Stormlords.
"And will you now swear loyalty to me?"
An uneasy silence followed.
At last, Ser Cortnay Penrose shook his head.
"My lord… King Robert has sons."
"Gendry Waters. Edric Storm."
"You served Robert faithfully once. We hope you remain the same man you were then."
The words struck Stannis like a blade.
Even now…
Even after Renly's defeat…
The Stormlords still refused to fully support him.
Catelyn Stark stepped forward cautiously.
"Lord Stannis… why continue this struggle?"
"This war has already destroyed enough."
She had expected one brother to emerge victorious.
Instead, both Baratheons stood diminished before her eyes.
Stannis closed his eyes briefly.
"I understand."
His gaze drifted toward the richly armored Stormlords across the field.
Silk banners.
Golden armor.
Noble bloodlines.
The very strength he had always desired yet never truly possessed.
Beside him, Melisandre whispered softly.
"I could have helped you more."
"If the idols of the Seven at Dragonstone had been burned…"
"The Lord of Light would have granted greater power."
She referred to the ancient statues within Dragonstone's sept.
Sacred relics carried from Valyria centuries ago by House Targaryen.
Their jeweled surfaces and gilded designs made them priceless treasures.
Melisandre wished to burn them all as sacrifices to R'hllor.
Stannis frowned deeply.
"It is too late for that now."
"They fought for Renly before."
"And even after abandoning him… they still refuse me."
Frustration filled his voice.
The war had brought him victory…
Yet also failure.
Then suddenly—
"Ships!"
A scout rushed toward Stannis and fell to one knee.
"There's a fleet approaching!"
Stannis's expression changed instantly.
"Whose fleet?"
"We cannot see clearly through the sea fog," the scout replied quickly.
"But the fleet is enormous."
"Either the Redwyne Fleet… or something even larger."
Stannis immediately understood.
Only one answer remained.
"Robert's son…"
"He's here."
A cold silence settled over the battlefield.
Stannis looked toward Melisandre sharply.
"How did your flames fail to warn us?"
Melisandre's face tightened slightly.
Her visions came at great cost.
Power required sacrifice.
Even Stannis's life force had limits.
The sea mist slowly parted.
Then the fleet appeared.
At its center sailed the great warship Storm.
Beside it came the massive Wolf Pack and Princess Daenerys, followed by dozens of sleek war galleys from Myr and Tyrosh.
The fleet cut through the waves like steel blades.
Upon the deck of the Storm stood Gendry Baratheon.
The young prince leaned against the massive warhammer Orphan-Maker while the sea wind whipped his golden-black cloak behind him.
At his belt rested the small black-and-red dragon, Balerion, curled lazily within a pouch.
Ser Barristan Selmy stood beside him.
On the other side waited Maester Qyburn.
Behind them stood Jon Snow, Anguy, and the monstrous silent knight known as Jon Strong.
Gendry stared toward the distant battlefield calmly.
"If Stannis kills Renly," he asked quietly, "what should be done?"
Ser Barristan answered carefully.
"Lord Stannis remains valuable."
"He is a capable commander."
"A loyal servant… though not fit to be king."
Gendry nodded slowly.
"If he commits kinslaying, I will send him to the Wall."
"If he does not… then perhaps he may still serve the realm."
He fastened Orphan-Maker to his waist.
"As for Melisandre…"
"If she threatens my family, I'll kill her."
The fleet advanced rapidly.
As the morning sun finally broke through the mist, every soldier upon the battlefield turned toward the approaching ships.
The white Myrish sails gleamed brilliantly.
Tyroshi ships flashed purple, crimson, and blue.
And at the center sailed the Storm, its great banner displaying a crowned stag and a roaring dragon side by side.
The Stormlords erupted into cheers.
"Stormcrows!"
"Stormcrows!"
Excitement swept through the ranks immediately.
Hope had arrived.
Gendry rode ashore atop a massive black warhorse.
Unlike Renly, he wore no extravagant jewels or golden antlers.
His black scale armor was practical and battle-worn.
Yet somehow, he looked far more kingly.
Behind him rode Ser Barristan and the royal guard.
Jon Snow carried the great golden war banner high overhead, its dragon and stag blazing beneath the sunlight.
Catelyn Stark watched silently.
Jon Snow looked entirely different now.
More confident.
Stronger.
No longer the uncertain boy from Winterfell.
At last—
The three Baratheons stood face to face.
The failed king.
The bitter claimant.
And the rising king who had yet to claim the throne.
Renly looked at Gendry with bitterness burning in his chest.
That glory…
That admiration…
It should have belonged to him.
Stannis slowly rode forward.
Then, to everyone's surprise—
He dismounted first.
And unbuckled his sword.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)