OURS IS THE FURY ||| HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

Remembrance

Silence hung in the deathly cold, hallowed stone halls of Dragonstone. A far cry from the fortress once bustling with never ending conversation and clanking of armour from the hundred Guards marching side by side in what seemed like perfect unison. Now reduced to not but a few dozen, a mere few refusing to abandon their stricken leader after so long.

That same man, remained all alone within his neigh untouched quarters. Sat atop the flattened hearth his back pressed to the side of the vertical stone surrounding the orange glow, his empty ocean gaze penetrating into the roaring flames bellowing against the stone precipice illuminating two ornate chairs faced to the flames.

One had its embroiled cushions splashed with the black and red of House Targaryen, while the other was imbued with House Baratheon's black and yellow. A generous gift presented by one of his now estranged Nieces.  

Clutched in his hand was a simple cup of wine. The black haired, elder male holding onto such a small pleasure as if his life demanded it, still adjusting to the sour taste after refusing to indulge such vices after the birth of his eldest son oh so many years ago.

Not that any such choices mattered anymore, his family long since torn apart, leaving behind a broken, blanketed slate of a man.

No longer did the clanking of swords echo from the training yard, the three eldest of the children training their hearts out so that one day they may wield a weapon as mightily as their Father could. Nor did his youngest child's angelic songs vertebrate through the keep, casting a never ending shadow down upon the place that once felt like home.

His broken mind began to wander as his weary eyes lidded shut, two fingers pinching his nose as memories flowed like a tidal wave, of a time much simpler for both himself and his beloved, the shattered remembrance bringing nothing but pain and living with the burden of knowing the fates met by his comrades and loved ones alike after so many years of pointless bloodshed.

Refusing to let himself become consumed once more, he broke free of his trance and downed the remainder of his goblet with a single gulp wallowing in the silence that followed as his eyes wandered to the steel Warhammer leaned against the surrounding, closest his head. The drink finally taking its tole as he snatched the weapon in one hand, easily wielding it with ease as he raised it upward examining it ever closer. It's flattened face dented ever so slightly, the marks and scuffs of continued battle made all too clear by the dancing fire lighting the dark. 

With a heavy, unsteady sigh the once mighty Knight dropped the Warhammer with a thundering clank against the floor, the noise so loud it felt as if it would shatter the stone as it fell, rubbing a single calloused hand down his face and across his straggled black beard, only for his eyes to catch a glimpse of something that made his aching heart lurch ever more and his body freeze still. 

Sat just inches away, the flickering light reflecting from the familiar angelic long silver-gold hair that flowed down the back of her blackened, elegant dress, was the very same woman his entire being yearned to stand beside once more. Her Violet eyes bearing blankly into his own, the air of warmth she emanated toward himself and their children all but gone, turned to nothing but a ghostly visage used to torment the mourning King Consort. 

Despite knowing such sight remained not but an illusion, he still reached out a single hand to her own planted firmly to the rounded hearths edge. "Rhae..." his cracked voice echoed as he attempted to place his own, much larger hand atop her own, body shaking with desperation as his touch finally fell into hers.

Yet, as it always did, in the blink of an eye she drifted into thin air, the visage disappearing from sight as if it were never there, his hand simply pressed against the hearths edge were hers once lay. In an instant, his broken heart cracked just that little bit more as rage finally took hold, chest tightening as his gaze fell upon the set of chairs stood before him.

Tired of being tormented by the silent ghosts, The second son of Lord Boremund Baratheon grew ever frustrated, his rage turning to blind fury as he shot to his feet, snatching the heavy Warhammer from the floor with ease and marched toward the twin chairs, grip tightening on the blunted weapons shaft as he stopped inches from the one adorned with his House colours raising the Hammer widely above his head ready to crash its steel down upon the seat once used so often.

But, for a brief moment he hesitated as his drunken mind conjured yet more painful illusions. This time, he saw his young self sat atop the seat, hair cropped and cut short, his face clean shaven, one leg crossed wide over the other as a dumb love struck smile stretched across his already grinning lips, head turned from his broken older self as he talked the night away, though no words could be heard drown out by sheer, unaltered Grief.

Gripping the weapon above his head, now clasped in two hands the man's gaze wandered to were the attention of his younger self lay. Sat opposite him, once more was the woman he had fell for oh so many years ago. She herself looking not a day older than the day they met when he first arrived in the Capital at Ten-and-Seven. She too wore a smile, though far more mischievous than the boisterous Knight she listened so intently to as he told yet another one of his may stories.

He faltered for all but a second at the sight, loosening his grip on his Warhammer ever so slightly, until drunken fury overtook once again as he unleashed an earth breaking roar, slamming the weapon against the weak wood shattering it to splinters in one swing, bashing steel against wood over, and over, and over... Until only debris remained.

Throwing his Hammer to the floor once again, the seething male turned to the seat adorned with black and red using his sheer strength to lift it in the air and throw it into the closest wall, shattering a small section of it with a loud crunch as it hit the stone floor heavily.

Huffing through his nose like an enraged bull, The Baratheon marched toward it stamping his large boot straight through the headboard over and over, grunts irking from behind his gritted teeth as his slicked hair fell from place his grunts steadily turning to embittered, frenzied roars as his assault grew more and more vicious in some vain attempt to rid himself of such memories.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity he ceased his hot blooded violence, tugging his boot from the wreckage, stumbling back toward the bed and tumbled straight to the floor his back pressed against the foot of the bed he now shared with none but himself.

Burying his head in one hand, his whole body lurched as his dishevelled hair fell over his eyes, fury replaced with despair once more as unending sobs broke from his lungs. Met with no reply nor comfort as his grief stricken groans echoed from behind the closed door of his lonely chambers. The guards on watch outside remained ever vigilant, unflinching at the wails within having grown more than accustomed to the Baratheon's pain.

On the other side, through a haze of drunken sadness, his mind delved deeper into the events that forever sealed his and his families fate and legacy, costing the only things that brought him peace in a realm plauged with deceit and bloodshed.

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A/N: Well, here we go people. Let's get this thing started. Let me know your thoughts as always and don't forget to vote, it helps a lot with motivation and shows me you guys are enjoying what I produce. See ya around!

P.S For those of you who have read the books. No spoilers in the comments for those who haven't. Thank You!