The Dragon of Duskendale -- A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfic

Chapter 7

He found Morgan Byrch in the arms of his brother.

The Dragon of Duskendale stood amidst the corpses ten paces away, eyes on the ground instead of the heartwrenching scene in front. Balman, middle of the Byrch brothers, had seen the youngest gallop back towards the Tarth charge, one of the first of Aelor's men to counter it. Having lost his horse to a levy spear on the first line, Balman had remained there for the duration of the fighting. When Morgan did not return, he had gone to find him.

Morgan had been found locked in a deadly embrace with a knight in the colors of Musgood. The knight's sword had run Morgan through the torso. Morgan had gripped the knight's wrist with one hand, holding him and his blade in place so Morgan could drive a dagger into his neck. They'd died together, both still holding the blade that had killed the other.

Aelor wished it had been someone else who had discovered them, if only for Balman's sake.

The middle Byrch brother now held the youngest in his lap, openly crying and caring not a whit if other men saw him as he cradled his baby brother's lifeless form. Lord Cleyton stood stony faced behind him; the eldest had had a fiery relationship with both his brothers, but blood was blood, and Aelor could see the pain Cleyton shared with Balman.

Ser Barristan quietly stepped up to Aelor's side, leaning in to speak quietly. "No lords among the prisoners, my prince. Unless Lord Rykker finds them in the town or keep, it can be assumed they were on the galleys, as you expected."

The prince nodded. "Thank you, Barristan." After a slight hesitation, he continued with a gesture towards the scene in front of him. "That is my fault."

"Men die in war, Aelor. Friends and foes alike."

"Yes, but Morgan needn't have. I took the bait and rushed in like a fool and had my flank turned. If Selwyn Tarth hadn't been outnumbered three to one, we would all be dead now."

Barristan's voice turned firm. "This is not the time for self-pity. A leader leads; sometimes mistakes are made. You learn from that and move on. If you start second guessing yourself, we will all end up dead."

Aelor was quite a moment, then patted Barristan's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend." He turned away, unable to bear Balman's tears any longer. If that were Rhaegar, would I do the same? Would he for me?

The prince didn't know that answer, and that disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

Renfred rode trotted up then, Sers Willis and Alester with him, the last bearing a bloody bandage around his hand. Aelor nodded towards it. "How bad, Alester?"

Turnbuckle shook his head. "Just a scratch, my prince. A bloody scratch, but just a scratch."

Renfred had dismounted, Aelor noting that the bay he had been astride was different than the black he'd rode into battle. "The castle opened her gates before we even reached them." Ren handed a waterskin towards Aelor, the prince accepting it. "Only a skeleton garrison, greybeards and women. No sign of Lord Musgood or his family."

"They never intended to hold out, my prince. They'd cleared out hours if not a full day ago, just in case we showed up."

Aelor, having taking several long gulps as they reported, finished with a weary sigh. He handed the waterskin to Des, who had quietly remained at Aelor's shoulder. The squire took it, bringing it to his own lips as the prince spoke. "Their entire goal was to either get their men off the galleys, or their nobles on them, depending on when we showed up. When we caught them amidst the unloading, they wasted no time. What are our losses?"