Nerd In the North 6-10 (Patreon)

The parley had died in the throat of the morning, Renly Baratheon sending word to the approaching armies of his elder brother.

What word he sent, she did not know.Even still, from the sight of Stannis’s forces, it was nothing good and certainly nothing kind. 

Early dawn bled a pale gold across the Reach, an uncaring light atop Bitterbridge. All of it was indifferent to men shivering in their steel and horses stamping in the mud. Above all else, wholly indifferent to the lady of House Stark who stood at the edge of the sprawling city of silk and arrogance they called a camp, wrapping her blue cloak tighter around herself as she watched the lines form.

Seven save us all. Silence pressed against her ears as the men arrayed themselves for a spectacle, these knights of summer leading levied men. For so long, these Reachmen had treated war like a tourney writ large, a stage for vanity that curdled her stomach. Men play at being gods. Her time in the North had changed her more than she had known, the hate she bore in her heart enough to burn bright right alongside the fear for her daughters and the grief for her husband. And women are left to raise their skirts as blood flows.

A roar went up from the Stormlanders and the Reachmen as a knight in green and gold rode out, the youngest brother of House Baratheon leaving his men behind.

Catelyn narrowed her eyes against the glare, unable to deny the magnificence of Renly Baratheon. There was no other word for it, as much as she wished to find one less complimentary. He sat his destrier as if he and the beast were carved from the same block of emerald and gold, wearing no helmet.

Of course, he would never wear such a thing.

To hide his smile would be its own insult to the man’s pride. 

“Look at him…” The breath of the woman known to most as the Giant of Tarth came out unsteady and thick with near-worship, somewhere to Catelyn’s left. “Nearly the Warrior made flesh."

Catelyn did not look at Brienne, gaze firmly on the younger Baratheon as Renly shouted something to his men. His rich voice, melodic and warm, carried effortlessly across the dark churned earth. 

A moment later, the flower-crowned king laughed with his head tossed back, the sound its own charm and undeniably a spell woven into the air. Renly wove insults into poetry, mocking the grim silhouette in the form of his brother waiting across the field.

Moons spent among the Reachmen and the self-titled king had left Cat well aware of the new truth that had been made clear to all with eyes, of the new world that they dwelled in. Appearing the same as the old, the changes had been many and undeniable. 

Specifically the Knight of Summer that would be king of all the kingdoms that would have him.

His skin shone clear, eyes brighter than any blue she had ever seen, and even the way the wind seemed to catch his cloak in unnatural billows; too much for her to dismiss it as a mummer’s trick or a glamour of the sun, and another example of what she had seen too much of in recent time’s past.

Then Stannis rode out.

The cheering died, severed by the blade of the Stranger as Stannis Baratheon’s gaze sank deep. He wore no green, only the black and gold of House Baratheon. Without even a grunt, he dismounted his horse and then…Catelyn flinched, hands gripping her shawl as light spilled free from the scabbard. Seven above…

Stannis drew his sword.

Harsh.It was harsh.

Blinding, even.The painful white of a once-clouded sun breaking through to scour the earth, even leeching the color from the grass and mud both. “Brother…”

Stannis Baratheon spoke low but his voice still rang out like a blown horn.“Brother!” Renly called back, a smile on his face and a song on his tongue. "Seems the gods have seen fit to bless the whole of our house. What gifts do you bring today?”Stannis simply stared, no words to offer to Renly’s simple japes.“No words to share, Stannis?”Silence still.Unbothered, Renly’s smile only widened as he left his own mount and threw his arms out as wide as he could manage. “Have you come to kneel, then? If you must, the mud will ruin your breeches, bu-"

"Draw." As light and song-like as Renly’s voice was, Stannis was the opposite; a command in his tone as powerful as his gaze.

He wouldnt? Catelyn was not the only one to gasp, mouths falling open throughout the Reachmen at the thought. He wishes to fight? It was a nonsensical idea even to one unversed in the ways of war. 

To duel over a maiden was one thing, but the alliegiance of men… over a hundred thousand men?

Renly laughed again, the sound bright and beautiful like pure glass, as his own blade left his scabbard. “If you insist!”

The clash of blades was a scream of metal as much as it was light, blue Tully eyes forced aside with a gasp as a tremble tore through her. By the Seven…

Renly moved with the grace and speed that defined his voice, enough to blur the eye. He proved himself a true son of House Baratheon, as much in looks as he did steel with every motion of his blade seeming to be in several places at once.“Am I too fast, brother?” Stannis could only guard against the wind that was Renly, his white-gold blade all that could keep up. Renly struck — low, high, a slash, a thrust — moving faster than Catelyn had ever envisioned from a man in plate. “Or are you too slow?”Stannis did not dance.

"You march like a cripple!” Words overlapping strikes, the Flowered King fought on. “You act like a—" Clang. "—statue! Is this the fury? Is this the—" Clang. "—iron?"

Stannis did not speak.

The elder Baratheon might as well have been a boulder unmoving on the ground. He took the blows against the flat of that terrible sword alight with power.

Catelyn’s fingers gripped the rough wood of the cart she sat atop until a splinter dug into her palm. The sharp pain was real against the fevered dream of the duel in front of her, the sight of a gale of green and gold spinning around a pillar of grey salt.

"Yield!" 

Renly’s cry came loud,  blade flashing toward Stannis’s neck. "Yield and I’ll give you Storm’s End! I’ll give y-!”

Stannis’s parry silenced his brother.

A brutal, efficient chop, it caught Renly’s blade and held it, forcing a stumble from the younger Baratheon. 

And then, the light changed.

The white-gold glare brightened, the blade Stannis held pulsing bright. 

Yet, it did not flare outward.  

Nay, it cut inward. 

For a heartbeat, Catelyn thought her eyes were failing her, as Stannis’s light sliced through the faint haze that surrounded Renly. The verdant green of Renly’s armor seemed to dull as she stared, as all stared. 

The impossible shine of his skin turned sallow, summer air around him flickering as… as Renly stumbled.

"You play.” “Wha-”

“You play at life. You play at court.” There was no anger found in the voice of the elder, no triumph either. Only the crushing weight of simple truth stated aloud. “You play at war.”

Stannis stepped forward; inside the guard, inside the reach, inside the song.

The younger brother struck out again but Stannis barely had to guard, the blow lacking the speed and grace he had held close. Whatever sweet summer lie had held the young king high seemed to falter, weak under the scrutiny of Stannis’s judging light. His face twisted, confusion breaking the mask of the handsome king. "I a-" 

Renly gasped aloud, the velvet of his voice fraying into panic. "I am th-"

"You are a traitor." Stannis stepped forward again. “To kin and king.”

The last word came with a thrust. 

Catelyn knew not the intricacies of battle or swordplay, apart from what she had seen of knights and men-at-arms as they trained. Yet, she knew this was no move of a master swordsman. 

It was a workmanlike movement; a job to be done.And it was.

The point of the glowing sword punched through Renly’s breastplate — that magnificent green steel — as if it were made of simple parchment with a soft wet noise that carried none of the glory of the songs.

Breath hitched in Catelyn’s throat as the clouds above seemed to halt their motion. The cheering, which had already faltered as Renly slowed, now died entirely.

Stannis withdrew the blade, reddened steel hissing as it sent up a thin wisp of steam

The haze flickered once more and then vanished to nothing as summer fell. 

With a heavy, boneless grace, one foot catching against the ground for a second, Renly Baratheon landed face down in the mud.

The mud of the Reach didn't care that he was the Lord of Storm’s End. It didn't care that he had the largest army in the Seven Kingdoms, or that he smiled like the sun as it filled the gaps in his gorget, coating his armor in dark filth.

"No," A voice moaned low, a sound torn from the bottom of a well as Brienne voiced her sadness. "No, no, this..."

Catelyn could not look away from the body in the mud. Without the lie of the summer light, he was little more than a boy. A boy who had played a game of thrones and lost to a man who did not play.

Stannis looked down at his dead brother, jaw clenched so tight his teeth nearly showed through his gaunt face. "The usurper is dead.”

Catelyn shivered, the light of the sun doing nothing against that cold voice. The summer knights would not know what to do with a king like this. And she, Seven help her, was trapped between them.

“STANNIS!”