WARS TO COME, game of thrones

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈. kings

"Anrir?"

"You are right. He should not die," Anrir said hoarsely and quietly, his voice had become a painful, harsh thing.

"Take him to the maesters," Robert ordered from his place at the head of the table, on which a map of the seven kingdoms was spread out. Two soldiers dragged Barristan Selmy away and Anrir looked after the wounded man with heavy eyes.

His neck was bandaged and so was his face, limiting his field of vision and making it difficult for him to take part in what was happening. His father had insisted that Anrir stay with the maesters after Ned and him had dragged him there from the battlefield. Anrir had only been half conscious, but he had still kept seeing Ned, feeling his arm around him. The thought had made him drift off and he blinked hard, concentrating on Robert.

"The Lannisters are on their way to Kings Landing. We must get there before them," Robert growled and tried to push himself up, but Anrir's father intervened. "You are wounded, my lord," he said calmly, his respectful tone showing that the balance of power had changed. Robert was their king.

Robert groaned softly, but nodded and turned to Ned. "Take my vanguard and travel to Kings Landing. Before the Loyalists can get there. Also, pursue what's left of the Targaryen army."

"Of course," Ned said, bowing his head respectfully. "I'm coming with you," Anrir also raised his voice as best he could. He spoke as if his mouth was an open wound and tasted blood again. His father gave him a piercing look, but Anrir just leaned back and looked intently at Robert. He would not let Ned go alone, this was not a decision he would let someone else make.

Robert nodded to him and Anrir joined Eddard, who ordered the troops to get ready. All who were physically able would ride with them to Kings Landing. Anrir had two squires put on his armor and cloak before a saddled horse was brought to him, onto which he hoisted himself with aching muscles. Beast hung at his side as he ran his horse past the troops until he met Ned.

Silence hung in the air between them, though the knights and soldiers behind them were not exactly quiet. It seemed to crush Anrir and he wanted to say something but his voice caught in his throat and he coughed harshly, blood seemed to fill his mouth again and he pressed a hand to his chest until the panic and the feeling of choking subsided. "You should stay here. You're hurt almost as bad as Robert," Ned said quietly, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. "I won't let you go alone," Anrir replied hoarsely, feeling his left eyelid twitch under the bandage. His face felt hot and inflamed. "That's foolish-" "Shut up, Ned," he muttered, "talking hurts. Just be quiet again, like you used to." Anrir turned his face away and licked his dry lips. His heart cried out for Ned.

He let his thoughts drift away until Ned gave the command to set off and his horse began to move.

Every now and then he looked back and marveled at the sheer mass of warriors following them. They had lost men, but they were still bursting with strength. A wan smile brought pain to his face as he turned his attention back to the Kingsroad that stretched across the landscape before him.

*

"Anrir... An!"

He woke up and almost fell off his horse if Ned hadn't grabbed his hand.

It was the middle of the night and they were still riding. In the evening they had picked up parts of the Targaryen army but the early night had been quiet. Anrir must have fallen asleep. He felt shame rise in him, but saw only concern in Ned's eyes.

"I in thoughts," Anrir murmured harshly and straightened his shoulders. His eyes were heavy and burning. He cursed Ser Barristan and his blade.

"You now bear scars on your face from the future King of the Seven Kingdoms and one of the greatest knights of Westeros," Ned said and Anrir realized he was trying to keep Anrir awake. They rode at some distance from the people behind them, but if Anrir fell asleep and fell off his horse, it would still demonstrate his weakness. Gratitude tingled in his chest. "As children, we would have thought that was pretty good..." Ned continued, "You'll look pretty scary when the bandages come off."

Anrir looked at Ned from the side and his heart ached with desire. "I miss you," he whispered, and this time his voice was no longer hoarse just because of his injury. Ned's gray eyes shimmered slightly in the darkness. "I miss you too," Ned whispered barely audibly and the silence returned. Anrir took a deep breath and turned his gaze forward.

From then on, they didn't exchange another word until they finally arrived at the city gates. "The Lannisters are already here," Anrir muttered, but Ned didn't say a word and so they rode through the gate. The town seemed deserted, with only a few corpses to be seen.

Anrir was silent, only the soft drumming of his fingertips on Beast could be heard. The red keep loomed before them and in its courtyard lay several dead maids, servants and a few guards. What would await them now? If the mad king was still alive, would Eddard kill him?

The horses trotted into the throne room and for the first time in his life Anrir saw the iron throne. It was a monstrosity of countless swords that seemed to stick out in all directions. The blades gleamed and Anrir did not doubt that this throne would fight back if an unworthy one sat on it. But who was actually sitting on it was Jaime Lannister. The boy was fifteen at most, but there was an arrogance in his face that bore witness to the fact that he had often been told what talent and potential he had. His armor was as golden as his hair and green eyes gazed down at them piercingly.

At his feet, Aerys Targaryen lay in a pool of blood. The king had the same silver hair as his son, but unlike Rhaegar, who had been cruelly beautiful even in death, Aerys Targaryen was a lifeless memorial to his madness. With sunken cheeks and bony shoulders, he looked as if he had been dead for a long time. His fingernails were long and his hair dull and matted. He looked much older than he could ever be.

Anrir's gaze slid to Eddard, who was their commander and Rob's direct representative at that moment.

The young wolf's gaze, however, was icy cold and unwavering. And finally the Lannister scion stood up and stepped aside. A murmur rose in the hall, its echo multiplied a thousandfold. "Kingslayer..."

Jaime Lannister had been part of the Kingsguard and had stabbed Aerys. In the back, Anrir realized with silent horror. That was... Treason. The highest the boy could have committed in his position. He silently eyed the young knight, who was now standing at the foot of the throne, over the king's corpse.

The Targaryens were gone. An ancient bloodline of power and glory wiped out in a matter of days. Anrir felt the urge to bow his head and stubbornly resisted it.

A new era had dawned today.