Chapter 98

We made our way through Maegor's Holdfast, we had to fight constantly. A Mix of Lannister Guards and Red Keep Garrison Troops fought us every step of the way, my men and I had to wade through two main attacks, the first in the courtyard beyond the wall and the second in the Queen's Ballroom. When we were attacked the first time, right off the bat, I knew that this was going to be no walk in the park. I hadn't planned for so many people to be willing to die for Cersei and Joffrey.

It was a group of thirty mixed Lannister Guards and Red Keep Garrison Troops, being led by Ser Osmund Kettleblack. The Hedge Knight had upgraded his equipment since I saw him last, from chain and brigandine to a full harness of Churburg-style Plate Armor. He'd also, apparently, taken to shaving the beard he'd had because instead of the beard cropped close to his jawline he'd sported last I saw him, he now was sporting a five o'clock shadow, as if the siege meant he hadn't had time to keep up with his shaving.

"Ser Osmund! I don't suppose you'd care to surrender?" I questioned. In response, Ser Osmund spat on the ground off to the side and fixed me with a glare.

"I thought not, I had to make the attempt, though aye?" I queried.

"And why is that? I would not do the same for you." Asked Ser Osmund.

"Simply because I wouldn't want to deprive your father or brothers of your company needlessly, of course!" I taunted.

"Fuck this, kill 'em!" Scowled Ser Osmund before lowering the hounskull visor on his helm and drawing his sword.

And with that, the first counterattack commenced, with the Lannisters trying to throw us back out of Maegor's Holdfast. My own men formed ranks beside me and we clashed with the enemy's superior numbers. Almost immediately, I could tell we would win this. The Lannister Guards and the Red Keep Garrison seemed poorly practiced fighting alongside each other. They must have drilled separately before all this, which was typical of Lannister arrogance. However, the issues this caused would lead to their inevitable downfall as they kept getting in each other's way.

I parried a strike from a Lannister Guardsman's chopping halberd, bringing the weapon out wide and causing a nearby Red Keep Garrison Soldier to have to swerve out of the way of the spike on the back of the Halberd. My off-hand was already thrusting a dagger through the throat of the Lannister Guardsman whose breastplate over mail and Kettle helm-style halfhelm didn't exactly cover the throat, even as the man beside me took advantage of the swerving of the Red Keep Garrison Soldier to thrust a blade into his armpit.

Moving on, I lashed out with my blade in a Colpo Cottano slash, the rising cut starting low enough to literally cut the legs off a Lannister Guardsman whose own blade was cutting out for my head at the knee. His blade went flying off into the distance as he fell with a strangled scream, and a swift kick from my arsenal-steel-plated boot sent him into unconsciousness to bleed out. As he fell, a Red Keep Guardsmen thrust his arming sword for the slits on my visor, forcing me to parry with my dagger. A kick to the side of his front knee sent him down to one knee and I dispatched him with a thrust of my dagger through his eye.

We were winning, my men whittling the enemy down to just over a dozen, including Ser Osmund Kettleblack, and taking only a few casualties, mostly minor wounds, but one or two would be dead or crippled from this. Ser Osmund, however, decided to try his hand at killing me in the meantime, charging forward with his bastard sword in an arcing diagonal slash that he hoped would cleave me in twain from shoulder to hip. I was savvy to the attack, however, and leaned out of the way, the arcing metal of Ser Osmund's Bastard Sword whistling off to my right just past my head.

I bulled forward, intending to end the fight, but Ser Osmund knew how to fight well enough to realize his mistake and bring his crossguard around to slam into my helm. The meeting of castle-forged steel and arsenal steel rang out like a clarion call at the impact, and my helm was mashed against my face from the sudden, powerful, blow, splitting my lip and bruising my cheekbone, but doing little else. I stumbled away from the blow as Ser Osmund tried to bring his blade around to finish me. Fortunately, I was better than Ser Osmund Kettleblack and could recover easily enough from a blow like that.

I snapped off a parry in time to avoid that, putting as much force into it as I could. A horrific noise echoed from our entwined blades as the Valyrian Steel of my blade bit deep into the castle-forged steel of Ser Osmund's blade. It wasn't enough to shear through the entire blade in one go, but it was enough that my Sidesword was lodged firmly in the blade of his Bastard Sword. Using this, I flicked my wrist, twisting and wrenching my blade, which came free of his with a snap as his Bastard Sword couldn't take the pressure from within itself and broke in two. My blade freed, I whipped it into a Molinetto with a flick of my wrist, the quick, circular, cut hacking into Ser Osmund's swordhand with a crunch of steel as his gauntlet crumpled and his wrist broke from the attack.

"Gah! Braavosi Bastard!" Shouted Ser Osmund in pain as he cradled his broken wrist.

"Be thankful I didn't cut it off! Now yield!" I demanded, pointing my blade at the slits in his visor.

"Fine, I yield!" He spat.

And like that, his remaining dozen or so men threw down their arms. Unfortunately, we had to parole them after ensuring they were disarmed because we simply did not have the time or the ability to take them all prisoner. Ser Osmund, though, we left tied up in a supply cupboard used by the serving staff. Then we moved on. My squad had been whittled down from the fighting so far to seven men, not including myself. We'd left three dead behind us, with yet more enemies to go.

Fortuitously, the halls of Maegor's Holdfast were full of disparate bands of opponents, whittling them down bit by bit. We clashed with enemy groups in threes and fours on the way to the Queen's Ballroom and the Royal Apartments beyond. It was well within our capabilities to deal with. I took down five more opponents as we climbed up the square, stone, keep toward our destination. Two with my dagger, two with my blade, and one who surrendered after taking a steel-shod boot to the groin. I didn't blame the man, I'd have surrendered too if I'd just had my nuts kicked by a steel-clad boot. All told we must have fought off another thirty or so enemies in drips and drabs on our way up the keep.

Eventually, we made our way up to the Queen's Ballroom. Here we found our next big challenge. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, in charge of another thirty men of mixed Lannister Guardsmen and Red Keep Garrison Troops. I supposed Cersei didn't much consider having Levies, the Guard Troops of Bannermen, or Gold Cloaks guard her. They were good enough to fight on the walls, but not for her. It honestly tracked, given her personality. Still, it was more than enough to force me to order the use of our pistols.

As the enemy charged for us across the hall, I drew my second pistol and fired, ordering my men to do the same. The eight frontmost enemies fell to the ground, even as I ordered my men to fire their last pistol on their braces into the still-charging enemy. Within the first few seconds of the attack, there was a thunder of gunsmoke and flame, and sixteen of the enemy troops fell to the stone floor, dead or dying. That still left fourteen more, plus the Hound to crash into my line. I would keep the hound busy, hopefully, my men could do the same with the enemy troops.

Speaking of the Hound, his greatsword arced out in a powerful swing, hoping to cleave my head from my shoulders in his opening blow. I ducked the slash and bulled forward, rising up with my dagger and sidesword ready to strike, only to be forced to parry with both of them as the Hound manhandled his greatsword back into position with main strength, recovering fast enough to cut out at me again. There was a resounding clang as my two blades locked with his one blade and he forced me to one knee from the force of his heavy blow.

"I'll make it quick. Least I can do after you helped me with my fucking brother." Growled out the Hound, pressing down with his greatsword and trying to force my own parrying blades back into my shoulder.

"Decent of you. . .but how about. . .another option?" I grunted between breaths.

I managed, by the skin of my teeth, enough leverage to slide the Hound's Greatsword off to my right, completing my parry and slipping out of the predicament he'd put me in with his monstrous strength. His greatsword sparked off the flagstones of the Queen's Ballroom as I got back to my feet and took up my guard. That was when I noticed his blade only had a small notch in it, comparatively speaking. I realized I was looking at one of my own swords, a runic, arsenal steel, greatsword.

"Slippery fucker." Grunted the Hound.

"I'm not the only one. Invested in an Arsenal Steel Blade for yourself back before the war, I see?" I questioned.

"It seemed like a better purchase than more fucking booze. I get free booze just for being who I am, anyway." Admitted the Hound.

"Still, that's fairly clever, though I can't imagine Cersei having anything nice to say after that purchase, aye?" I queried, prodding him.

"Who gives a fuck what Cersei thinks?" Asked the Hound with a Scowl.

"Exactly, so let me offer you a proposition." I tried.

"A what? Speak plainly for fuck's sake." Scoffed the Hound.

"A deal then. King Stannis has this won. We've captured Joffrey, and most of the gates have fallen by now. I'm offering you safe passage to fuck off and leave this doomed battle. Don't go down with Cersei's ship, it's not like you're really serving her by choice, anyway, is it? What do you say?" I questioned.

"And go where? Your precious King Stannis' Service, I suppose?" Queried the Hound.

"Go wherever you want. The point is, it will be your choice." I offered.

"And it gives you a straight shot at Cersei too, aye?" Asked the Hound, sarcastically.

"I'll not lie and pretend otherwise." I shrugged.

"Fine, but I catch one hint of your King's men about to stab me in the fucking back and I'll come back for you, saved my life against fucking Gregor or not." Huffed the Hound.

"Hold on." I intoned, grabbing my cloak pin and letting the cloak of my armor fall to the ground.

"Take this, it's got my seal on it. If anyone tries to stop you, you show them that and say you are quitting the field under conditions agreed to by me." I insisted.

"This is solid fucking gold." Pointed out the Hound.

"Aye, think of it as a bonus for sticking to the agreement." I grinned.

"You're fucking mental." Scoffed the Hound.

"So some have said. Do we have a deal?" I pressed.

"Aye, we have a fucking deal." Nodded the Hound, sheathing his greatsword and heading out of Maegor's Holdfast.

His remaining men didn't last much longer than he did. As soon as Sandor Clegane called it quits, the last seven or so enemies laid down their arms and agreed to surrender. The fighting had taken two more of my men, leaving me with five, but we were in the home stretch now. I had everyone reload their pistols, and it was a good thing I did too because as soon as we made it to the royal apartments, we were set upon by another ten enemies, being led by the ram-helmeted, bearded, lisping, Vargo Hoat. Apparently, the Brave Companions had been sent on ahead by Tywin and arrived with the Mooton Men who even now were fighting on the walls.

"Kill them, but leave the leader for quethtioning!" Lisped Vargo Hoat, pointing his blade of Qohorik Steel at me.

"Pistols out men, No Mercy for that Qohorik!" I called out.

Another round of cracks sounded out as my men fired two of their three, freshly-reloaded, pistols into the charging mass of Lannister Guardsmen and Red Keep Garrison Troops. Vargo Hoat's men shuddered in place and then fell like wheat before the Scythe as they were riddled with bullets. Vargo himself, tried to skirt around the fight, leaping out to cut at me from the side, but I managed to duck the arcing swing of his Qohorik blade and pull my third pistol, firing into his torso. The mail of coins he wore did nothing to stop the pistol ball, which punched through his armor and into his torso, pulping his lungs and dropping him like a stone.

As we reloaded our pistols and prepared to make the final charge to capture Tyrion and Cersei, Vargo Hoat died slowly on the floor of the Hallway outside the Royal Apartments, choking on his own blood as he failed to draw in air through his ruined lungs. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy, but we were running low on reloads. We'd have to conserve as much ammunition as we could from now on if we wanted to hold Maegor's Holdfast until relieved by the Army.

As we rounded the corner for the Queen's Apartments, however, I spotted Osney Kettleblack and Lancel Lannister exiting the Queen's Apartments, scurrying for a stairway at the end of the hall. I just knew the queen had sent them with instructions to blow up the Wildfire. Honestly, I didn't care much for Osney, he was still quick to kill as either of his brothers even if he wasn't as vicious, but Lancel was just an unfortunate casualty of Cersei being Cersei. He didn't deserve to be shot down like this.

Unfortunately, I had to steel myself to the prospect of gunning him down. After all, the hundreds of thousands of people living in King's Landing didn't deserve death by Wildfire any more than he deserved being gunned down to prevent it. At this point, it was just down to the numbers, and when it was Lancel's life or that of a City the size of the Capital? Those numbers couldn't be ignored.

"Shoot the tall one, I'll take the Lannister!" I ordered.

I aimed for Lancel's leg, taking a deep breath before letting it out as I squeezed the trigger. My snaplock pistol bucked as it belched smoke, fire, and lead. Moments later, Lancel fell to the floor with his right knee a bloody mess. My men did the same for Osney, though they weren't as good of shots. Osney fell with his femoral artery severed. Osney was already dead, he just didn't know it yet, but Lancel could yet be saved. Swiftly, I moved to Lancel and stripped off his swordbelt.

"Whu-whu-whaa?" Moaned Lancel, weakly.

"Easy, Lancel. You may look enough like a woman for some, but not for me. I'm doing this to stop the blood flow so you don't bleed out." I grunted in amusement.

Working as swiftly as I could, I cut the straps holding Lancel's cuisse on and began to wind the belt around his leg like a tourniquet. After a few minutes of work, I had it on well enough that he wouldn't bleed out. He was still in shock, but he'd live, albeit as a cripple. I didn't know why I did it, other than Lancel not really being responsible for his own actions after his Cousin did everything in her power to seduce him. Even if he'd been a willing participant in Cersei's schemes, it had been a sort of coerced willingness. Besides, he was one of the only people who could testify to Cersei's infidelity and incest. Even without the emotional component, keeping him alive to be captured and presented at trial was just good sense.

"You'll live. Oh, you're captured, by the way. " I said to Lancel before turning to my men.

"You lot stay here and keep him under guard. I'm going in to deal with Ser Balon Swann and capture Cersei and Tyrion Lannister. If anyone tries to challenge you, use your remaining shots before going to melee." I ordered.

Once I had that all squared away, however, I headed into Cersei's Apartments. As soon as I stepped inside, however, there was a crack of thunder and a belch of smoke, and I felt something smash into my breastplate. Fortunately, I was wearing the one suit of armor in Westeros proofed against musket fire. It hurt like a bitch, but I was able to stand back up with bruised ribs instead of dying.

"Why am I not surprised he made himself armor that could withstand such shots?" Drawled Tyrion from the Corner, goblet of wine in hand and bottle of Dornish Red almost entirely spent.

Cersei meanwhile, was standing behind the large, white-cloaked, winged-helmeted form of Ser Balon Swann, who was standing between her and I with a spiked mace in his hands. Cersei had a matchlock pistol that she was fiddling with, trying to figure out how to reload it before throwing it away in disgust.

"Fine, Ser Balon, kill this traitor for your queen!" Snarled Cersei.

"Good luck to you!" Called out Tyrion.

"Could you take this any less seriously?" Snapped Cersei.

"I am taking this situation as seriously as I know how, oh Sweet Sister of mine." Chuckled Tryion, pouring himself more wine.

Their bickering was lost on me as the hulking form of Ser Balon Swann advanced on me. He was a good knight, and honorable, it was just a shame he served the wrong queen. He had made his bed, however, and would have to lie in it. As he advanced, he swung out with his mace, the spiked head sailing just over my head as I ducked the sideways blow. My ascending vertical montante cut I sent his way as a riposte, however, was sidestepped. In came the mace again, and this time I was forced to parry with my dagger. Ser Balon had been expecting something like that, clearly, however, as my dagger was caught between two of the spikes on the head of his mace and he tore the blade out of my grasp with a wrenching motion.

I was forced to leap away from a two-handed smash that was aimed at flattening me to the floor. Ser Balon's spiked mace crashed into a wooden chair and smashed it to flinders instead. I scooped up one of the legs that had been broken off the chair and flung it into Ser Balon's face, using the move as cover for an overhand, descending, Imbroccata thrust that I hoped would punch into his breastplate and puncture his liver. Unfortunately, Ser Balon was wise to my tricks and dodged both the thrown chair leg and thrust, handily, coming in with a strike of his mace as I tried to recover my guard.

There was a clang as the steel, spiked, head of the mace smashed into my pauldron, denting even the Runic, Arsenal Steel as if it had been a musketball. My left shoulder and collarbone felt bruised from the blow and I was staggered by the attack, but I still was able to duck away from a second sideways, swipe that was aimed at my helmet. I backed off away from Ser Balon as he tried to bull forward, striking out with his mace again. This strike, I parried under the spiked head on the haft of the mace. Ser Balon surged forward, trying to bowl me over, only for me to pivot around and lash out with a kick to his backside. The sudden, extra, momentum sent him crashing into an end table, which smashed apart from the blow.

Growling, Ser Balon stood and reset his guard, though he was moving more slowly than previously, almost hobbling. Had he sprained something in the fall? That I could use to my advantage. I saluted him with my blade and hopped forward in a Balestra maneuver, my hop being followed immediately after by a lunge as I closed the distance suddenly with my maneuver. It was a movement and attack all in one, and much too sudden for Ser Balon to deal with, as it turned out. He tried to get out of the way, but couldn't quite manage in time. There was a shriek of steel and a crunch as my Valyrian Steel Sidesword punched into his rerebrace, going through the white enameled steel to skewer him through the meat of his left bicep.

I withdrew my blade swiftly darting back away as he tried to swing his mace at me one-handed with a pained shout. To his credit, he almost managed to clip me with that. However, with his left leg clearly having been sprained earlier, he couldn't quite manage to get me.

"I have to admit, you're good with that mace of yours. However, wounded twice like that, you won't last long. Why not yield?" I offered.

"Don't you dare!" Spat Cersei from the opposite corner of the Room.

"Oh shut up and let the boy preserve his own life, we've lost this battle anyway!" Scoffed Tyrion, pouring himself another drink, this time draining the last of the bottle.

"I only need one arm to swing my weapon!" Growled Ser Balon Swann.

"Can you do so with one leg, as well? See reason. Yield!" I demanded more harshly.

"Nay!" Shouted Ser Balon Swann.

Then, Ser Balon lurched forward, swinging his mace again. He was deceptively agile still, but I had him edged out. As his mace came down, I darted to the side and lashed out in a kick at his left leg. When my steel-shod boot connected, his leg gave out entirely, dropping him to the floor on one knee. He tried to smash my right knee in with his mace, but I parried with my Sidesword, kicking out again and sending him sprawling on his back, his weapon skittered off to the side as I planted one boot on his chest and pointed the tip of my blade at his visor.

"Yield, you've got no choice now!" I reiterated.

"The Kingsguard does not yield, we are captured or we die." Insisted Ser Balon Swann.

"Fine, have it your way." I huffed, plunging my blade into his visor.

Ser Balon Swann jerked once as my blade entered his brain before stilling, dead. It was a shame I had to do that, but it had to be done to end this madness. He literally gave me no alternative. I blew out a sigh as I turned to Cersei and Tyrion. Cersei looked white as a sheet, almost as if realizing that she would not come out of this with her freedom intact. She went very still, before mustering all the venom it was possible for her to muster.

"I never liked you. You or that whore of a wife of yours. Know that my Father will not rest until I am freed and remember, a Lannister always pays their debts." Bit out Cersei, Icily.

And with that, I had taken Cersei and Tyrion Lannister Prisoner. Tyrion wasn't hard to take prisoner, he was drunk as a skunk and all too willing to sit the rest of this war out now that he had a chance to do so. Cersei, meanwhile, kept sending me angry looks whenever she thought I wasn't looking. Hopefully, this would mark the end of our active participation in the Battle of King's Landing.

As it would turn out, that wasn't quite the case and there was an attempted counterattack to recapture Cersei being led by the scarred form of Osney Kettleblack, who had clearly learned from the Tourney Injury that had given him those scars so long ago and invested in a full helmet. Unfortunately, that Helmet didn't save him from a pistol shot smashing into his right shoulder and dropping him to the floor. Fortunately, he was left-handed, so he would still be able to fight when sent to the Night's Watch if such was to be his fate. His thirty-odd men were cut down by pistol fire and the remainder surrendered.

Twenty minutes later, a pair of runners came from the Maidenvault and Great Hall. Ser Maric and Ser Clarence had effected the surrender of the remaining opposition in the Red Keep. Now all we had to do was hold until relieved by the Main Force. It took another four hours, but it happened. King Stannis had won the Battle. King's Landing was ours.

Now we just had to hold it against Tywin Lannister. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, here's the next chapter. Ricasso and his team effectively captured the Red Keep, though they had to cut a bloody swathe and rely on pistols a lot to do it. Fortunately, almost everyone else was too preoccupied with the massive attack on the City Proper to try and recapture the Red Keep, though it is a shame about Ser Balon Swann. Supposedly, he was one of the few knights of Robert's Kingsguard that Jaime Lannister actually respected. It had to be done, though, and Ricasso gave him every chance to surrender.

At any rate, the next chapter is going to be an interlude showing the rest of the battle from other points of view before we return to Ricasso's perspective for Stannis' first day as King in the Red Keep.

Stay tuned. . .