Lost in Sothoryos | A Game of Thrones Fanfic

Brothers in all but Blood

The sound of thousands of people fighting and dying littered the battlefield, the clashing of steel and the sounds of bones breaking and bodies hitting the ground. It had been less than a few hours since the battle started and yet a pungent odour filled the air, one ripe with the smell of death. All of these sounds and smells did not affect Daeron and Robb, they did not focus on anything but the opponent in front of them. King Robert Baratheon stood in front of them like an enraged wild animal, but both Daeron and Robb who were only 15 name days stared down the dangerous warrior.

"Just like your father! A fucking spineless traitor! Don't have the balls to do what needs to be done!" Robert boomed as he clenched his fists around his Warhammers, his anger bubbling and boiling beneath the surface.

Robb shook his head "I will protect my family and if that makes me a traitor so be it..."

"I'll make sure to not break your body too badly for when I send your body home to your father," Robert said Maliciously.

Robb felt a chill go up his spine, he looked to Daeron whose eyes hadn't left the man before them "Do you think we can take him?" He whispered, it had the effect of snapping Daeron out of his thoughts and he looked back to Robb.

He smirked "One Warhammer for each of us, it can't be too hard" he replied making Robb snort, They both then got into their stance and held their swords up ready to fight the monstrous man before them.

The battlefield was a whirlwind of chaos and violence as Daeron and Robb charged the King. Their swords gleamed in the sunlight, ready to confront the colossal might of Robert Baratheon and his twin Warhammers.

The King responded with a thunderous bellow, swinging his Warhammers with a raw fury that could shatter bone. Daeron and Robb, recognizing the need for agility over strength, moved with a grace that belied their youth.

The first clash of steel on steel sent sparks flying. The King's Warhammer met Daeron's sword, a deafening crash echoing across the battlefield. Daeron's arms shook from the impact, but he parried to the side, deflecting the Warhammer's full force away from him. Beside him, Robb sidestepped the other Warhammer, the ground trembling where it landed.

They danced around the King, each step a calculated move to avoid the crushing blows. Daeron feinted, drawing the King's attention, while Robb lunged in from the side. Their combined efforts forced the King to defend on two fronts.

Yet, it was not an easy task. The King's armour was like a fortress, his bulk a daunting obstacle. But Daeron and Robb knew there were chinks in that armour. They probed, searching for any vulnerability, any weakness they could exploit.

With a swift parry, Daeron redirected one of the Warhammers, sending it crashing into the ground beside him. The King roared in anger, his exposed side momentarily unprotected. Robb seized the opportunity, driving his sword into the gap in the armour. The King's roar turned into a painful howl as blood spilt.

But the King was far from finished. He swung his remaining Warhammer with a desperate fury, forcing the brothers to retreat. Daeron felt his sword arm grow heavy, his breath laboured, but he couldn't falter now.

As the battle continued, every action and interaction became a blur of steel, sweat. The brothers parried and deflected the Warhammers, dodging with practised precision. The King's Warhammer crashed down with bone-shattering force, yet Daeron and Robb's swords found the seams in the armour, drawing blood and eliciting agonized cries from their opponent.

The battle raged on, but the tide had turned. Robert Baratheon fought with the rage of a wounded beast, determined to bring down his foes. Daeron and Robb, now on the defensive, knew they had to protect each other as they weathered the King's relentless assault.