Steve munched on an apple as he read Robin's homework, Brooklyn plodding along beneath him. Empty fields stretched out on either side of the well-traveled road, and there were no clouds that day, but the marching army was shadowed all the same as the faint haze above persisted. Even after a week, it was still the biggest concern to the men, and Steve had been catching snippets of low conversation all morning between the soldiers who were marching south along the Kingsroad beside him, bantering and wondering what the cause might have been. The most popular theory was that Aerys had caused a second Summerhall (some kind of fiery disaster brought on by hubris as far as Steve could tell), only this time in King's Landing, but there were some who still held that the Martell scion had turned on the prince for his insult to his sister, or that the prince was burning fields to slow their pursuit, though after a week with no burnt camps or fields seen these ones were jeered at.

  One stubborn old goat insisted that the Kingswood had been set ablaze in a ritual to summon a foul Valyrian champion capable of standing against the white star lord, but a forest like that wasn't going to burn quickly or widely enough to cover the sky in a haze such as covered the sky. Whatever the truth was, they would surely find out soon, as they grew closer and closer to the capital.

  Movement on the side of the road ahead caught his eye, approaching riders, and Steve rolled up the parchment he was reading, tucking it away in a saddlebag. He was satisfied with Robin's defence of his choices in the scenario he'd been given; he would have to spend an afternoon coming up with something more challenging.

  The small party of riders slowed as they reached Steve, before turning themselves around to join him as he rode beside the columns of infantry. "Steve," their leader greeted him.

  "Ned," Steve replied. The kid had been busy on the march, acting as the rudder that kept the army moving in the right direction in the right way. The last time he had seen him had been days ago, when they had put their bows, steel and goldenheart, to good use taking out an ambush meant to kill their scouts and slow their pursuit. "What brings you here?"

  "We will pass Hayford today," Ned said. His dark brown hair was starting to grow long, hanging below his ears, though he was clean shaven. "If we do not slow to take it, we will be within a day of King's Landing tomorrow." Those with him were familiar faces, but there was a respectful distance now that hadn't been there before the battle.

  "Do we need to take it?" Steve asked. He made a point to give the others a nod, Kyle Royce and Mark Ryswell amongst them.

  "Perhaps," Ned said. "I would like to threaten Lord Hayford with you." A bird of prey eyed them imperiously from a branch on a lone tree by the road.

  "Sure," Steve said. "I told them I'd drop my grudge against them, but this isn't that."

  Ned gave a nod of thanks, letting out a breath. "One less obstacle."

  "Does this give us a chance of catching up to Rhaegar?" Steve asked. "Before he reaches the city."

  A grimace answered. "No. The fatigue of the first days cost us."

  "A siege, then."

  "So it would seem. Much will depend on the choices the foe makes."

  Steve had been taking advantage of the wealth of knights and lords on hand who had been taught of war and siegecraft since childhood, asking questions and learning all he could about how such things were done in Westeros. There were many who had been more than eager to answer him.

  "You don't think he'll turn and fight?" Steve asked, as Brooklyn stepped over a head sized rock on the edge of the road.

  "Before he passed Hayford, I thought he might," Ned said. "But that was the last advantageous point until the city." He glanced over to the column of men they were riding beside, but none were close enough to overhear, and the men riding behind him were all close friends. "I suspect he means to bait us into preparing to deliver a siege, and then hit us in the rear with the forces he only pretended to take into the city."

  Steve looked over at him. "You don't think he wants a siege."

  "I don't think they're prepared for one. A wise man would have begun stockpiling grain as soon as the war began in case of a siege, but the Targaryens have not proven to be wise men. King's Landing has an enormous appetite even without all of Rhaegar's men."

  From what Steve had seen of Aerys, he didn't think he'd be the sort to even consider a worst case scenario, let alone prepare for it. Execute the man who suggested it, maybe. "Better for everyone if it doesn't come to a siege, anyway," he said. The people would be the first to starve, and if the walls were taken by force, there would be no stopping the riot that would follow. "You're prepared to prevent a sack once we defeat them in the field." It was an expectation, not a hope.

  Ned coughed. "Yes."

  "Word has spread well on your view of such things, Ser Steve," Kyle said from the side. His pale eyes were earnest. "Were we to fight within the walls, I would have concerns, but it would be a very foolish man who decides to pursue such a thing deliberately."

  Steve grimaced. "There's never a shortage of fools." Seeing the state of the few villages they had come across hadn't done much for his good mood.

  "I think many will surprise you, Steve," Ned said.

  "Maybe," he said, thinking about what he had seen and corrected in one village during their escort of Lyanna, ensuring it would not happen again even if he had been too late for the victim. But then he thought of how his fame had grown since rejoining the rebels, of how he had heard men speaking with admiration of those he had helped and spared. "Maybe," he said again, more upbeat.

  Ned didn't linger long, riding off with his companions to see to the dozens and dozens of tasks that needed attention and came with directing an army, each raising an arm or a visor as they went. Steve returned the gestures, and then considered what to do next. Morning was only half gone, and he had few duties that needed further attention that day.

  Battle was looming, one way or another, and Steve turned his attention to his people. He caught up with Robin as he rode with a pack of fellow squires and answered awed questions about the rescue of Lyanna Stark. He checked in on Henry and Yorick as they rode in a screening patrol off the road and gave them lip about their latest loss to him in the sparring circle, and the push ups they all owed him. He found Betty and her girls riding in a wagon and was teasingly asked how many castles he'd taken for Naerys recently. He was tracked down by Lyanna, Hood not Stark, and wheedled into one last lesson with the Myrish crossbow he'd gifted her.

  In the evening, he cornered - or was cornered by - Naerys in their tent, and they didn't emerge until they were both in dire need of a bath. By the time they fell asleep in each other's arms, they were sated, content, and accepting of what they thought was coming the next day.

  X

  The message came early in the morning, when the army was still breaking camp. A hurried servant was the one to summon Steve to the emergency meeting it spurred on, and a terrible fear came over him that maybe the rumours of King's Landing burning had been found to be true, but he pushed it down, focusing on the moment. When he arrived, he was met by faces grim, eager, concerned, and wary, but not shell shocked. Whatever news had come, it was no simple thing, but nor was it a tragedy. Steve wasn't the last to arrive, Elbert ducking into the large tent right behind him, and they quickly joined the other rebel leaders around the table. All of them were armed.

  "Lannister forces have come," Hoster told them in answer to their unspoken question, his brows deeply furrowed. Half his attention was on the map of the city that was spread across the table. "I have two reports from my brother's men. One claims they were seen approaching on the Goldroad escorted by Crownlands banners, the other that they had attacked the city and have taken the Lion Gate."

  "Could one be wrong?" Elbert asked, taking a spot next to Brandon. The Stark was drumming his fingers on the sword hilt at his hip.

  Hoster shook his head. "No."

  "They certainly reported what they saw truthfully," Jon added, looking up from the map. "The truth behind what was seen is less certain."

  "Not my brother's men," Hoster insisted. "If they saw fighting on the walls of King's Landing, there was fighting."

  "You think it could be a trap," Steve said to Jon. He looked from Ned to Robert where they stood shoulder to shoulder, frowning in thought and glowering respectively.

  "Tywin is a cunning lord," Jon said. "I would not put it beyond him to stage a true skirmish to draw us in."

  "He also holds grudges," Hoster said. "Aerys gave him many to nurse. It would take much to have him side with the Targaryens."

  "Yet he marched beside royalists."

  "What's more likely," Steve asked, "that Lannister approached the city as a friend and then turned on the Targaryens, or that they're putting on a show to make us charge in?" He thought about Jaime, a hostage in all but name on the Kingsguard. He didn't know the kid's father beyond a brief impression as a stern and hard man, but he didn't seem like a man to let such a thing go.

  Hoster and Jon shared a look, clearly in agreement about something.

  "Approaching under cover of friendship is not beyond him," Hoster said.

  "Aye," Jon said. "Had the turn come when we were in sight of the walls, I would accept it easily. This early, however…"

  "Does it matter?" Robert demanded. His arms were folded over his chest, and his shoulders were tense with suppressed action. "We march. We fight. We win. If Lannister wants to get on our good side with some skin in the fight, let him. If not, we crush the lions too."

  "Fifteen thousand Westerlands men says it matters," Brandon said, voice dry.

  "Bah," Robert said. "We can take them."

  "Lannister seeks to give us King's Landing," Ned said abruptly, "but something gave him away."

  "Ned?" Jon asked.

  The Cold Wolf looked up. "Assaulting the city with fifteen thousand men makes little sense given the force Rhaegar has. Nor does playing at conflict to draw us in, not when he could have waited a day away on the Goldroad when we were already coming to deliver a siege. Lannister had a plan, and something went wrong."

  "If your judgement of Rhaegar's plan was correct, then seeking to get his men into the city would have been suspicious of Lannister," Elbert said, nodding slowly.

  Robert slapped one heavy hand on his thigh. "Then the lion has come down from his rock and won't have sat the war out, what does it matter."

  Jon's attention turned to his foster son. "Because if the final victory in this war is given to you, you will begin your reign thanks to the strength of another, and that is not something that lasting dynasties do."

  Robert seemed to swell. "I broke an army on the Blueburn, another at Mastford, helped shatter a third below the God's Eye, we routed Hightower, threw back more than twice our number in knights-"

  "And if Tywin Lannister gives you your throne, that is what the histories will remember," Jon said, his voice rising over Robert's.

  There was quiet for a moment.

  "You will also be stuck with whatever victory Lannister gives you," Elbert said, fair features grim. "The Rains of Castamere are known for a reason. I would not want to have Targaryen blood should he breach the Red Keep."

  Grimaces of agreement answered him, but there was one who reacted differently.

  "What's this?" Steve asked. He had been leaning over the table, inspecting the map, but now he straightened.

  There was a pause.

  "House Reyne rebelled against House Lannister," Brandon said. Distaste coloured his face. "Tywin penned them up in their mines and diverted a river to flood them. Hundreds of men, women, and children were drowned."

  "And this is the man who has just sent an army into a city to fight."

  "Aye," Hoster said.

  Steve's jaw clenched. He breathed slowly, knowing there was no point in pointing out the injustice in allowing a man like that to continue to rule.

  "His son is in the Keep," Jon said suddenly. "It will be a priority for him."

  Ned swore in another language, almost before Jon had finished speaking, startling his brother. "Elia Martell. We need her and her children alive. If they are still in the Keep when Lannister takes it…"

  "They would have been sent away to Dragonstone, surely," Elbert argued.

  Brandon was disagreeing. "Aerys would keep them close, he is not-"

  "We don't know that-"

  "After what Rhaegar pulled with the marriage cloaks-"

  "Even Lannister knows that they are more valu-"

  "Enough!" Robert said, cutting through the building argument and silencing them all. He looked to his friend. "Ned. We need Martell alive?"

  Ned hesitated, but only for a scant moment, and then he nodded.

  "Then let it be known that I want Rhaegar's wife and children alive and unspoiled," Robert said, turning to Jon. When the older man nodded, Robert lost some of his seriousness. "I won't have Ned banished from his wife's bed for not preventing the death of her lady."

  "Robert."

  "I'm onto you, Ned!" Robert said, wagging a finger at him, a grin starting to steal over his face.

  "The fate of a rival claimant must be your decision, not -" Ned stopped himself, closing his eyes briefly. "Yes, Robert."

  "Good," Robert said, clapping his hands together. "Then we need to get to King's Landing before Tywin bloody Lannister can take it, capture Rhaegar for Rickard to deal with, punt the donkey off my throne, and make sure Martell and her tykes don't have an accident in the process. Did I miss anything?"

  Jon and Ned shared a sigh of long suffering. "We are still at least eight hours from King's Landing," the Vale lord said.

  "Ah. Right," Robert said, frowning.

  Steve unclenched his jaw and leaned in. "The army is eight hours away. A mounted force isn't."

  "By the time you arrive, every gate will be locked tight," Brandon said. There was no point in entertaining the thought that anyone but Steve would be leading such a force.

  "I will open the way," Steve said. He had seen the gates of the city, passed through them more than once. He knew how to take them.

  "Lor- Steve," Hoster started. He watched him for a moment. "You have achieved much. Your quality is not in doubt…but a city under siege, with fighting in the streets…it is a very different beast."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "I can get through the city to the Red Keep," Steve said. He tapped on the map, at a gate on the eastern side of the city. "The scouts said that Lannister forces had taken the Lion Gate. They should know they don't outnumber the royalists, so they ought to have taken a defensive posture, using the walls and the gatehouse. I'll enter through the Gate of the Gods or the Old Gate, avoid the worst of the fighting."

  "And what will happen when you find evil men taking advantage of the fighting?" Hoster asked, watching him carefully. "It won't just be the soldiers. Will you continue on, or stop and help their victims?"

  "I will help them," Steve said without hesitation. "Or those with me will."

  "A sack is not a battle," Jon warned him now. "It is a riot where men lose sight of their allegiances and even the greatest of knights can drown under the tide of numbers. You will make yourself a target."

  "I will help them," Steve repeated. "Then I'll get into the Red Keep, and take Elia and her children into protective custody."

  "He says he can do it. He can do it," Robert said.

  Hoster grimaced, and Jon tried once more. "Robert, a sack is like nothing you've-"

  "Twice now I've fought with Steve in the worst of it," Robert said. "I know what he is capable of. I wouldn't bet on myself in a mess like the city will be, but I'd bet on Steve."

  Robert's admission had Jon taken aback.

  "He'll do this, and when we get to the city and crush all who stand against us, we'll have the Princess to bring Dorne to heel," Robert continued. "And that'll be that."

  "Well, you heard the king," Brandon said, almost carelessly. "That'll be that."

  Elbert couldn't help but laugh, even as his uncle and Hoster shared a look. The meeting quickly began to break up, Brandon striding out to see to his men as Jon and Hoster began a low and fast conversation about positioning Robert as a saviour to the people, but Steve paid them little attention. He approached the man who would be king, and spoke quietly to him as Elbert and Ned lingered by the door.

  "When I do this, their well being will become my responsibility," Steve said. There was no threat in his voice, but there was a warning all the same.

  Robert eyed him for a moment, but didn't back down or take umbrage. "If my rule must fear a child, I'm not fit to wear the crown," he said, just as quietly.

  The soldier clasped the stormlord on the shoulder and gave a single squeeze of approval. Then he left the tent behind, off to gather his people and prepare them for what was to come.

  The day would not be an easy one.

  X

  Word spread swiftly through the army, and by the time Steve was riding out, all they passed seemed to know where they were going. The white star lord rode at the head of his own retinue, a force that was said to be made up of the most dangerous men in the army, men who had cut their way across the Reach alone and who had been granted Valyrian steel for their service. With them rode men said to be the Queen's own knights, sent by the Wolf Queen to spill Targaryen blood for the insult Rhaegar had paid her in thinking he could woo her from her true love, the King. Spears beat against shields, metal rang against metal, and horns rose above it all, until the entire army was sounding their support for those who would ride ahead to fight the foe, so great was their fury and so righteous their cause.

  The old hands, smarter or wiser or just more experienced, knew better than to believe the gossip, but they found it an impressive sight all the same, and they prayed to the Warrior or the nameless gods of rock and field to speed them on their way. The sooner the man they knew as Lord America made it to the battle, the fewer enemies there would be for them to fight, and that was just fine by them.

  X x X

  The Soldier Who Would Save Them All I?

  When Steve and his three hundred strong force got their first view of the capital, they were met by an ill sight. There was more smoke in the air, but this was different. Unlike the haze that hung high above, this was darker, fresher, and it was rising from the city itself here and there. The chorus of fighting and death rose from its streets. This was no bright city on a hill. This was a city in pain. The war had come to King's Landing.

  "Oh, no. No no no," Robin said, a moan of horror escaping his throat.

  "Robin?" Steve asked, turning to where his squire had pulled up beside him.

  "The smoke, it's near the Street of Steel," Robin said. His knuckles were white as they gripped at his reins. "My family lives near there."

  Steve cursed to himself, turning back to the city. If it was that far in, then the fighting had spread deeper into the city despite the larger numbers of defenders, away from the Lion Gate that the Lannisters had first taken. He had been planning to take the Gate of the Gods and use the main street through the city to ride directly to the Keep, keeping behind the fighting that should have been closer to the wall. If the fighting kept spreading, taking that route would risk getting caught up in it…but taking another gate would mean a detour and a winding, twisting path to the Keep, not to mention take them further from the Street of Steel.

  "We will take the Gate of the Gods as planned," Steve said. He had a mission, but people were dying. He nudged Brooklyn back into a trot, rising up in his saddle so he could be seen further back in the column of cavalry he was leading. Kel saw him, and he made a cutting gesture, pointing forward. She nodded, and he fell back into his saddle. "Robin, once we're through, you will take my squad and retrieve your family, bringing them to a safe zone we establish."

  Relief poured from him. "Yes Captain!"

  "Beron," he called to his other side, "you will take command until you catch up to me at the gate."

  "Yes ser," Beron said. "What are you - oh."

  Steve was slipping from his mount, shield and hammer on hand, and then he was running. The small army he had led to the city was quickly left behind, and the walls ahead grew larger as he neared. There were men in gold cloaks atop them, but their attention was elsewhere, and then Steve was almost at the gates. The doors were thick and seasoned, banded with iron and fit to stand up to a battering ram. He could get through them eventually, but he had no time for that. He slowed not at all, and then he was bounding up the wall, his momentum carrying higher than the height of three men.

  Gravity reminded him of its presence, and he seized one of the detailed carvings on the wall exterior, using the face of one of the titular gods to pull himself upwards. He threw himself upwards, plate and maille hardly weighing him down, and caught himself on another carving, gripping it tightly. If the people who ruled here hadn't wanted him to climb over their walls, they shouldn't have made it so easy. When he made it to the top, the scrape of his shield on the battlements drew the eye of a guard as he sprang over. The man's eyes bulged, and he made to shout, to call for help or sound the alarm, but he was silenced as Steve kicked him in the head. His focus was on the city, and he stepped quickly across the roof of the gatehouse to get a better view. He could see fighting in the distant streets, figures running and chasing. Not all of them were soldiers. Most of the city was holding its breath, and the rest was screaming.

  There was a door nearby, leading into one of the towers that sat on each corner of the gatehouse. He could have knocked and baited someone within to open it, but he lacked the patience. People were dying. A swing of his hammer reduced the door to firewood, bending the iron banding with a tortured twist. The guards within heard and rushed to respond, alarmed shouts echoing up the curving stairwells. They would have slowed him more by surrendering.

  The portcullis was raised, and then he was outside, pulling open gates that were designed to take teams of men to shift. Beron had just arrived on the other side, and he led the men and two women through the moment there was space.

  "Beron, the gatehouse is yours," he said, wiping blood from his chin. "Set one hundred men to hold it. I will lead the rest into the city."

  "Gods go with you, Steve," Beron said. He was already turning to bark orders as men continued to stream through the gate.

  An anguished scream was carried to them on the wind, closer than the distant sounds of fighting. If the local gods were there, they weren't doing more than watching. Robin rejoined him, guiding Brooklyn with him, almost shivering with his need to be elsewhere.

  "Arland!" Steve called, and the stocky knight was quick to approach.

  "Captain."

  "You will take the squad and follow Robin," he ordered. "Ren is to remain with Walt and the company.

  "Yes Captain."

  Robin was already starting to leave, but Steve caught him by the arm. "Robin. Be swift, be true, and be safe. I'll see you after."

  The kid who had been nothing but the third son of a bowyer before he had dared to ask for more gave him a jerky nod. "I won't let you down."

  "I know. Go."

  They rode off into the city, Robin leading the squad down a side street in the direction of the fighting, and Steve turned away to mount his horse once more. He had other matters to attend to, and soon they were turning their eyes to the coast, and the Red Keep.

  The last time Steve had ridden along the main road of King's Landing, it had been under the shadow of dusk with people to protect, pursued by the king's knights. Now it was the middle of the day, with smoke in the air and two hundred good warriors at his back, and this time, he wouldn't be stepping quietly.

  They had barely entered the city when they reached Steve's next objective. A fortified block sat on the side of the road, and luck was with them as a motley group of Gold Cloaks emerged through the gates just as they approached. The gate they were using was on the wrong side for them to be joining the fighting. They were carrying empty sacks, and there was blood on their armour. Steve's eyes narrowed, and he nudged Brooklyn to speed up. He and Kel were the tip of the spear that ploughed through them, leaving the cudgel and dirk wielding men broken in their wake.

  "Walt, this is your command," Steve said, bringing the force to a stop, half turning back. "You will hold here."

  "You're sure about this," the hoary soldier asked again. He hadn't been pleased when Steve had shared his plan during the ride, and nothing had changed since.

  "I am," Steve said. "You will take this barracks, and hold it as a point of safety for any who come. I don't care who tries to take it from you, if they push, you cut them down."

  Walt bared his teeth in response, weathered hands holding tight to the hilt of the Valyrian steel sword at his hip. "I'll see it done, Captain."

  "Keladry, Yorick, on me!" Steve shouted. Ren caught his gaze as she followed Walt through the barracks gates, a silent demand in her eyes as she carried his banner, and he nodded, a silent promise returned. He saw Yorick and Henry clasping arms, and Osric raise his spear to Kel, but there was no time for anything more.

  Barely more than two dozen warriors followed Steve deeper into the city, the bulk of the company and what knights hadn't stayed to hold the gate left behind to take and defend the barracks. Steve would have left more if he could, but neither Walt nor Kel would hear it. If the tide of combat reached his people, they would just have to hold. Hold, and defend those who fled before it.

  The street was open before them, deserted and barren. Shops and homes were locked and barred, market stalls left abandoned. The distant sound of fighting dulled as they passed below the great sept, thundering across the main square, and then they were making their final approach. The Red Keep rose up ahead of them, and its gates were open.

  They went unchallenged until the last moment. A figure in black saw them coming from beyond the gates, shouting an alarm, but it was too late, and they were through. The portcullis slammed shut behind them, but that suited Steve just fine, and the household guards that rushed out from the gatehouse were dealt with swiftly.

  Steve looked past the fresh corpses, taking in the Keep and all its structures rising above him. It was a maze, one he was still learning despite his several visits, but they would find their way.

  "Why were the gates open," Kel asked, less a question and more a statement.

  "The gates?" Steve asked, turning from the Keep buildings.

  "They should not have been open. The city walls are breached, and there is fighting in the streets. Why were the gates open?"

  "You're right. Something is wrong here." Steve looked around. Beside the men they had slain, there were no defenders in sight. "I don't like this."

  "Maybe they pulled back to the holdfast?" Yorick said, but he didn't sound like he believed it. A lock of blond hair had escaped his helm, and he pushed it aside.

  "We can't waste time," Steve said. "Kel, you'll take your squad and search the Maidenvault. Yorick, the Sept."

  "And you, Captain?" Yorick asked.

  "I'll take the Holdfast," Steve said. He had never managed to find a way in during his last visits, but this time he wasn't trying to speak softly. This time, there was nothing stopping him from leading with the big stick. He took a breath, looking over the people that he had taken as his own almost a year ago, trained and guided, mentored and led. He met the eyes of Ric, of Byth, Kraus, Than, and Qwartyn and Ortys and all the others. "This will be a story to tell your grandchildren," he said. "I'll see you all on the other side."

  """Aye, Captain,""" came the rumbled responses.

  Onward they went, deeper into the heart of Targaryen power. Red stone structures rose over and above them, almost crowding each other in the limited space available on the hill. Yorick was the first to split off, his squad following as he led the way towards a large seven sided building. Kel followed suit shortly after, making for a keep within the Keep. Steve was left alone as he wound further and further along the main path, passing under interior walls that would have made all below them into a killing field, if only they were manned.

  Maegor's Holdfast awaited.