Dreams of the Demon

[Rickard Tarly]

His dream brought him back nearly ten years ago, to a shadowy place that smelled of rock and salt. Surrounding him were wraiths in dark armor, marching forward onto the cold sandy shores. King Richard Baratheon, his face clear as day and his armor radiant under the sun was the only man who appeared that he recognized.

The king led the armies with his great black warhammer, crushing any iron man who dared cross his path. Each step that man took, the roar of thunder echoed in the battlefield. He was like the Storm God reincarnated. But the iron men had the Drowned God on their side, or so they believed.

The king was a valiant man, but much too eager for battle. It was in his nature, and it was known by all, including his enemies. The iron men soon had him surrounded, where too few white cloaks remained by his side.

Rickard gripped Heartsbane, the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Tarly, with his right hand as he pushed the men in front of him so that he could reach the king.

When Rickard arrived, the king faced the largest man he had ever seen. The iron men called this fearsome warrior, Talon the Tall, a behemoth of a man. Men on the boat warned Rickard of a monster the iron men had waited for them on the beachhead. Talon had the king corner, knocking the king off his feet. What good was a warhammer in the sitting position? The giant smirked as he allowed the king to keep his little weapon, raising his own monstrous axe to cleave the king.

Charging at the monstrous man like a bull, Rickard knocked him off his feet, but did nothing to faze the monster, only provoked him.

The two traded two blows as the axe head met the edge of Heartsbane, the steel kissing steel. When the king's men arrived, Rickard found room to disengage. And when he thought he was safe, Talon threw his mighty axe at him.

And then the feeling his left arm vanished and all he saw was a fountain of red.

[Aedan Baratheon]

He narrowed his golden eyes at the grim, gaunt man in front of him, one of the ironborn, yet gold-bought. Not that Aedan didn't benefit from the islander's fluid loyalty, but he certainly held the spy in some sort of contempt. Useful, but disgusting.

"You have, I presume, something of note to tell me?" he drawled, rising from the small table in his room at which he had been dining, still dressed in his court finery, gold and black in the colors of his father's house as well as his own coloring. The man nodded, leaning forward to whisper in the young king's ear.

"Call my kingsguard to me," he hissed, asking for those most loyal to him, "and not a word to the small council or my lady mother."

Moments later, a inconspicuously dressed servant slipped from the room, his gaunt, pale form unassuming as he went about his tasks.

[Rickard Tarly]

Rickard woke up to the sound of a fist pounding on a door, his head stirring as he lifted it from the small table it had rested on. He had somehow fallen asleep while writing a letter to his brother, the Lord of Hornhill in the Reach.

The dream he had was but a memory of a terrible time when he had lost his left arm. It was the day he received the name Demon for his ferocity in battle. Who else but a demon can fight with one arm like that? the men had said. Rickard remembered the look on the rebel ironborns' faces after he had driven Heartsbane through side of Talon the Tall, the giant falling to his knees and onto his back. Wounded but not vanquished.

"Stop that banging, I am coming," Rickard snarled, dragging himself to the door and opening it to find a familiar personal servant to Aedan Baratheon, the new boy king of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Ser Rickard, the king wants you in his chambers, along with the rest of the Kingsguard," the servant said, his head slightly bowed.

If the king requested the Kingsguard knights, then the matter must have been urgent. Sending the servant away, Rickard strapped Heartsbane across his back. He was the only Kingsguard knight to not never wear the full scaled armor. His armor consisted of grey boiled leather chest guard and lightly plated guards for his shoulders and shins. His boots were light as well. Rickard looked more like a sellsword than a Kingsguard, however, the white cloak that hung over his left shoulder, which concealed the empty space where his arm had been, made him one of them.

Yes, but for just how long?

When he arrived at the king's room, several of his white brothers were already present. He had been the last one there, it seemed, as he gave them all a nod in acknowledgement.

"Your Grace, I have brought your guard to you. And the queen and the small council knows naught," the pale servant spoke, bowing, before he left the room to the king and his protectors.

[Aedan Baratheon]

Seeing his kingsguard (it was really his father's) gather, Aedan stood, running a hand through his unruly black curls, so like Richard's. He acknowledged his man's leaving with a wave of his hand. "My thanks," he said, not revealing the servant's name.

He let the silence settle for a few moments, before turning back to the assembled whitecloaks. "I'm sure all of you remember the Greyjoy Rebellion that my lord father put a decade ago," he began, his gaze ghosting over Rickard Tarly. "Some of you more than others."

Aedan gave them a few moments to think and mumble among themselves, gathering the words for his next sentences himself. "It seems Lord Greyjoy has decided to count his forces," he said whimsically, making a shrugging gesture with his hands. "Perhaps I should help him count."

[Rickard Tarly]

Rickard remained silent as the young king mentioned the Greyjoy uprising, turning away so that their eyes did not meet. It appeared as though his dream earlier wasn't just a coincidence, however. Rickard hoped that he never had to set foot on the Iron Islands ever again, let alone a ship that would take him anywhere near there.

"If this is true," the lord commander began, "then we cannot let this escalate. I am sorry to say, Your Grace, but your rule over the Seven Kingdoms right now is shaky at best. Any attack from the Greyjoys will be devastating."

The lord commander spoke the truth. When King Richard Baratheon squashed that rebellion, his rule had been absolute. Many rallied to the cause, not only because they believed in him, but because they detested the Greyjoys as well. Aedan, though very much like his father in many ways, was still young. He had the misfortune of inheriting a throne that was very much in debt, with the threat of seceding kingdoms to go along with it.

"They will be a problem for Casterly Rock and Highgarden, Your Grace. The lord commander is right, if he is amassing his forces, something must be done," another brother of the Kingsguard added, nodding in agreement.

Only Rickard remained silent still as his brothers gave their inputs on the situation. They were all the same, begging the king to take some sort of action. He was never one to give much counsel. Just a man whose duty was to protect.

It was a wonder, however, why the king spoke to his personal guard, rather than to the small council. There was another motive here, that which Rickard could not lay a finger on.