A Tale of Stags and Lions - Mine is the Fury (Game of Thrones)

Chapter Seven - Blood on the Field

Fanart: By Mike S. Miller

Word Count: 6171 (Yeah I know, I went a little overboard)

Riverlands – 298AC

Lyonel really wanted it to turn out that Ned Stark was just misled. He denied it to himself a million times. He didn't want the rumor to be true. He didn't want the throne. It just couldn't be.

But somewhere deep in his heart he knew it was. He was always the outsider. The Black Stag, maybe the only true stag. The evidence was right there his whole life, yet he chose to ignore it. Maybe Ned should have ignored it too, he would be safe in Winterfell now if he had.

Yes. Joffrey was not fit to rule, that Lyonel knew, but neither was he. He was too young and he would hate the burden that came with it. Joffrey might not be a wise ruler but he hoped his grandfather could get a hold of him and put him on a better path.

He thought of what he would do if he was the first born and on the throne. The solution was so simple, tell Ned to take back his word, show mercy by trading him and his daughters back for peace. Parentage and claims to the throne never particularly interested the North anyway. If Ned just gave up and Joffrey showed a shred of decency then everything would be fine.

But then there was still Stannis.

His Uncle Stannis was not a very affectionate person, him and Lyonel didn't get along that well, but he was a very lawful man. If he believed that Lyonel was the rightful heir, he would do whatever it takes to sit him on that very uncomfortable looking chair. Even kill Joffrey or any other usurper who was in the way.

They would fight and fight over it, and the weak would continue to suffer.

As a young child Lyonel would sneak out of the castle through secret passages. He saw what poor people looked like, what some childhood's looked like. He saw the times of the famine, times of disease. People who suffered while he was completely full and healthy in the castle. His mother would tell him that they were just numbers, like soldiers, and they should be thankful we even let them stay in the city. They were below us. Lyonel never completely bought that philosophy but it was easier to accept than the truth.

And then Aeron saved him when he needed it. Aeron wasn't just a number, he was his friend and Lyonel grew to love him just as much as Tommen, definitely more than Joffrey. It finally hit him that his mother was wrong, none of the people there were numbers, their lives mattered too. Royalty was just born luckier than Aeron and the commoners. Yet they were the ones that were targeted and attacked for actions of royalty. This wasn't what he thought protecting the realm meant.

He was never going to be King, but he had hoped Joffrey would grow out of this murderous faze. Then he would be his hand and be able to help all those people. But now it was clear that this would never happen. They would all suffer even more under Joffrey, because Joffrey didn't care.

He had no idea what he should do. He wished there was a better option for everyone.

But the North forced his hand. He had debated himself, he liked the Starks but he loved his siblings. He couldn't risk the Northerners getting to the capital and hurting them. As he concluded the innocent always suffered the most.

A day or two after the Northerns were spotted, the battle was planned. Tywin moved his soldiers closer. Lyonel sat at the table with his grandfather, his uncle and all the generals leading forces. They were having an evening meal and discussing their final plans again and what they would do if something went astray.

"Why can't we just offer peace?" Lyonel finally suggested.

All the Lords looked at him and he realized with terror that none of them seemed to have even considered the possibility of peace.