THIRD POV
The morning sun rose bright and clear over Kingswood, its golden rays piercing through the canopy of ancient oaks and pines, casting dappled light onto the Kingsroad. The air was fresh, carrying the earthy scent of moss and the distant chirp of birds.
Stannis Baratheon led his cavalry northward, his black horse plodding steadily, its breath visible in the cool dawn. Beside him rode Rolland Storm, riding a proud white stallion, its fur gleaming like fresh snow under the sky. The five hundred riders behind them moved at a slow, deliberate pace, their armor clinking softly, black and yellow banners swaying in the gentle breeze, two days into their journey to join his brother's army in the North.
Along the way, they'd passed through villages that welcomed them like saviors. The people poured out of their homes, filled with joy and gratitude, offering bread, cheese, and shy smiles. Without Stannis's victory over the Tyrells, these villages would have been torched by the Reachmen, their their houses would have been looted and women would have been raped.
Jaimes, now Stannis knew the power of propaganda. After the battle, he'd sent disguised riders across the Stormlands, spreading tales of Stannis's victory, ensuring that from tavern to every brothel, people knew he had saved them from the reachmen.
The ride had been quiet, the rhythmic clop of hooves filling the silence, until Rolland broke it with a grin.
"Why so quiet, Lord Stannis? Thinking of Lady Fell?, You should've brought her along. Judging by the look she gave you during the parting, she'd not have refused you."
Stannis's lips twitched into a smile, his stern face softening.
"True enough," he murmured. "I should've brought her. Her tits were far more comfortable than the blanket I've have been sleeping on for the past two days.
Rolland burst into a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the trees, drawing a few amused glances from the riders nearby. But as they were riding, a grey shape emerged in the distance, it was a bridge made by stones.
"Looks like we've reached the Wendwater River," Stannis said.
As they approached the river, the cavalry slowed, and a grim sight came into view. There were human corpses on the riverbanks, swollen and pale, among them were remains of horses too, their once-proud warhorses were now dead.
Rolland's face tightened, his humor replaced by a heavy nod. "Seems the river brought these corpses down from upstream, my lord."
Stannis said nothing. He stared down at the dead, unmoving, unspeaking. These were men once sons, husbands, fathers, now lifeless because of the ambush he'd planned. He shifted in his saddle, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face
Shaking off the mood, Stannis turned to Rolland.
"How far to the edge of Kingswood" he asked quietly.
Rolland paused, calculating in his head, then replied, "If we push the horses into a trot, we'll reach it by nightfall."
"Good." Stannis nodded, then shouted. Fallow me
With a sharp command, he urged his mount forward, the cavalry falling into trot behind him, their banners snapping in the morning wind.
(MAP IN COMMENT)
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Stannis's POV
At last, after hours of relentless trotting, we reached the edge of Kingswood. I reined in my horse and dismounted, my legs aching because of the long ride.
"We'll camp here tonight," I told Rolland, and he nodded, his white stallion snorting softly beside him. Slowly, the men followed suit, sliding off their mounts, the clink of armor and rustle of gear filling the air as they began setting up for the night. fires were kindled, and the scent of roasted meat drifted through the camp.
I sat by one of the fires with Rolland as we ate and spoke.
"We will move at first light of the sun." I said, " We cant cross blackwater rush near King's Landing so we'll follow the river's edge and cross the river where it is crossed by gold road."
Rolland nodded, chewing thoughtfully.
"Understood," he said, wiping fat from his chin. "Now, time to rest. I'll take first watch."
I grunted in agreement, wrapping myself in my cloak and lying back on the thin blanket. Above, only the tops of trees and their rustling leaves were visible, and camping within Kingswood's edge kept us hidden. As I settled, an unwelcome memory crept in: the bodies scattered along the Wendwater's banks. I saw a child in my mind's eye, small and hopeful, waiting by a hearth for a father who'd never return—because of me. The thought twisted in my gut. These men were someone's kin, cut down in a battle which should never have happened. The weight of it pressed down, heavier than my armor.
I shook my head, forcing the image away, and turned my thoughts elsewhere.
"It's been five months since the rebellion began, five months of blood and steel. I have no idea how long it'll continue. Did the Battle of the Trident already happen? Has Robert slain Rhaegar yet?" I let out a slow breath, my mind racing.
"What if my being here changes everything? What if my presence changes the plot, and Rhaegar wins? I've considered this before, and I've prepared a plan B: flee to Braavos with my small fleet, taking any men who choose to follow. I've gold saved in the Iron Bank, not much, but enough to start anew. Time will show me the way. Then there's Renly. My little brother, barely four now, cheerful boy I practically raised." His bright smile flashed in my mind, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Perhaps I'll leave him in the Stormlands, name him lord there. He's just a child, Rhaegar wouldn't harm him, I think. Me, though? If Rhaegar wins, he probably will behead me or send me to the Wall. Better to escape to Essos." I exhaled. "I'm overthinking. Only time will tell what fate holds."
"Time to sleep," I muttered to myself. The thought barely finished before exhaustion pulled me under, the fire's crackle fading into darkness.
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We've been following the Blackwater Rush for two days now, the river's dark waters glinting under the late morning sun. The steady clop of hooves and the creak of armor had become regular in my ears, but my mind was on the Bridge on the Gold Road.
"It should appear soon," I thought.
The sky was clear, the air warm with the sun of summer.
Suddenly, I spotted a lone rider galloping toward us from a distance, dust trailing behind him.
"Halt!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the men. The five hundred riders behind me slowed to a stop, their horses snorting as they settled. Rolland, at my side on his white stallion, leaned closer.
"That must be Edric, our scout," he said, his tone cautious.
"I know," I replied, my eyes fixed on the approaching figure. Edric reined in his horse before me, his face flushed from the ride.
"Lord Stannis," he said, bowing his head in respect.
"Report," I commanded, my tone sharp but measured.
"The bridge is two Leagues ahead, my lord," Edric began, catching his breath. "But the Lannister army is camped there. From what I gathered, they're heading to the capital."
Rolland cut in, his brow furrowing. "The capital? So Lord Tywin has chosen to fight for the crown after all?"
"Or he is gonna sack it." I thought that for a moment.
But before I could respond, Edric continued, his voice lifting with excitement.
"That's not all, my lord. I heard in their camp that Lord Robert's army has defeated Prince Rhaegar's forces. They say Lord Robert killed him with his hammer!"
Rolland's face lit up with joy at the news, his usual composure giving way to a rare burst of emotion. He turned to the men behind us, raising his voice.
"Lord Robert has slain Prince Rhaegar! The rebels have won the battle!"
Cheers erupted from the cavalry, a wave of victory washing over them. I let them have their moment, but I couldn't resist correcting Rolland.
"King Robert," I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. Rolland blinked, caught off guard, his excitement faltering into confusion.
"He's the new king now, or have you forgotten?" I added, the smile lingering. Deep down, a quiet relief settled in my chest, the original plot I knew hadn't shifted. Robert had won, just as he was meant to.
But there was no time to dwell on victory.
I turned to Rolland, my decision made.
"Take ten riders and go to the Lannister camp. Tell Lord Tywin I'm coming to meet him."
Rolland's expression shifted to one of concern, his earlier joy replaced by unease.
"I don't think that's wise, Lord Stannis. What if he takes you prisoner and drags you to the capital, to the Mad King?"
I smiled, lightness in my tone as I replied,
"Don't worry. I doubt Lord Tywin has waited this long only to side with the losing side at the last moment."
Rolland nodded, though I could see he wasn't fully convinced. He turned to the men, barking orders to ten of them to follow him. They rode off at a gallop, their banners snapping in the wind as they headed toward the Lannister camp.
I watched them go, my thoughts turning to the man I was about to face. "Tywin Lannister," I mused, "the famed author of the Red Wedding. It seems today I'll meet the old lion himself."