The Tower is attacked.

ARTHUR III

Arthur was surprised by how serene he was. A fortnight had passed since Ashara had left them, and it was a fortnight that Arthur had heard Lyanna pace around anxiously. He wondered, for a brief moment, what was she so anxious about?

Was she worried that the Usurper would come and smash the baby in her stomach, just as he had smashed Rhaegar? Yet, Arthur had a feeling that she didn't care about him nowadays. No, she was anxious about something else. He didn't bother to think about it though. He just honestly, didn't care.

The knight mused that he probably should amend his statement - serene wasn't the best word. Maybe… Uncaring? He didn't know. Words and letters had never fascinated him.

As sword clanged against sword, he quickly swept Oswell's feet under him, placing Dawn at the man's throat, after grabbing his arm to prevent him from falling. Moving back stoically, he saw his two fellow knights nod, morosely.

All they did, and all they could do, for the moment, was spar, keep an eye on the strangely quiet she-wolf, and wait. None of them knew what for, but they waited.

Arthur held a dark hope that it was going to be Eddard Stark with a company of men, riding over the mountains that they'd see. Yet, he somehow knew that it wasn't going to be him. A fool's realism, maybe?

He pulled himself from his thoughts, and continued observing the slowly descending sun.

It would be dusk that same day, as the rapidly rising sound of horses against the arid deserts of his homeland, that he realized why Lyanna had been so antsy.

Ashara had unintentionally, given her ways of informing someone of her location, and now they were coming to rescue her.

"Oswell," Gerold began commanding, as they readied themselves, rushing to the sounds of hoofs. "Grab a bow, and prepare to fire. Arthur? Come with me. We shall face these men, and see what they intend."

"Pray that they be few," Oswell spoke. "We have about twenty arrows, Gerold - that just isn't enough."

"I want to parley," the Lord Commander said. "I'm only being conscious of our position here."

"We should hurry," Arthur interrupted, as the beats of the horses became slower and slower. With a nod of acquiescement, the three brothers separated, each to perform their duties.

The night was dark, yet the sun that still hung above the hills and the clouds shone the area in orange. The light showed off everything, from the position of the two knights, and the position of the Dornish soldiers. They were approximately four, all armed with spears. Arthur grimaced, and Gerold frowned uncertainly.

Spears were almost a complete nullifier against swords, and the two knew from experience that in a battle, they couldn't afford to pull off any fancy tricks.

This was going to be brutal, if it came to a fight, Arthur decided, as Gerold and himself approached the group.

"Who are you?" The Lord Commander asked bluntly, his hand resting warily against his sword, as the space between the two groups shortened with each step.

"Can't say, really," the leader, a small, fast man with dark hair and a classic Dornish beard answered. "Here on urgent business."

"State your business now, or we'll cut you down." Gerold returned, his eyes narrowing.

Arthur wordlessly showed off the gleaming light of Dawn, causing both fear and apprehension to rise in the eyes of the men.

"Alright, alright," the man quickly rose his hands placatingly, despite the taunting grin on his face. "I'm here to distract you."

"From what?" The Sword of the Morning questioned, as Dawn rose from his sheath.

The man merely bowed mockingly. "The Martells send their regards."

It was quiet for a moment, before Arthur swung Dawn out of its sheath, lunging at the man, the sword claiming a throat before anyone could do anything.

Grabbing the shaft of a spear, he quickly slammed the backend into a man's stomach, before lashing out with his fist against his throat. Backing away rapidly, he noticed that the previously small amount of men had doubled, and that whilst three had gone after Gerold, the rest had gone after him.

Without a second thought, Arthur sheathed Dawn, causing a surprised laughter from his attackers.

"The Sword of the Morning surrendering?"

"What the fuck?"

The knight merely raised his gauntleted hands, and waited for them to approach, tuning out their stupefied remarks. And like crows to a corpse, they did, approaching him - trying to surround him.

Seconds passed, as he did naught but wait. This had to be a surprise.

"A Kingsguard never bends," he intoned suddenly, his fist smashing against another's face, and his armor took glancing blows from the spears. Quickly moving around the blows, he turned their own reach against them, as he smashed into them brutally, quickly unsheathing his sword in the chaos that he had wrought.

Lashing out with a horizontal swing, blood sweeping onto the floor in a torrent, Arthur grimaced at the state of their throats, heads or whatever Dawn had struck. The sword truly could cut through anything.

Stalking forward, he silently killed the rest who had managed to survive his ploy, without so much of a thought. He truly was a wraith, he thought unkindly, as he observed Gerold who had successfully managed to slice the throat of his last attacker, only looking somewhat exhausted from the effort.

He began to move over, willing this to be over. They had to capitulate - offer themselves to the judgement of Ashara's 'Ned', and hope that it was enough-

A sudden twang echoed in the mountain, and he saw the arrow burying itself into the Lord Commander, and all he could do was stare. Oh no, no, no...

Ducking into cover as an arrow rang over his head, Arthur angrily smashed his gauntleted fist into the rock. He quickly discarded Dawn, the sword clattering to the ground. Quickly launching himself onto the plateau that the arrow had come from, he launched himself towards the archer, and brutally smashed his fists into the man's face.

And he did it again, and again, as the rage took over. He saw nothing else, as the blood spurted onto his armor, his helm and the floor. Eventually, he found himself hitting naught but mush, and he stumbled off the body, horrified with himself, and...

He had failed his duty, his Lord Commander, Rhaegar, his family… He had even failed his own knightly vows, when he had been stopping Lyanna from returning to her brother. He was simply a failure of a knight.

Pushing open the door of the Tower, the first thing he saw was Oswell's corpse, and the first thing he heard was…

Arthur's boots clanked as he rapidly mounted the stairs, the hurried noises echoing from the floor above. Pushing the door with a heave, the clattering of the attempted barricade thundering in his ears, as he saw a Dornish man helping Lyanna Stark get out by the window with some rope, along with five to seven or so other men and women by his side, who snarled at him, unsheathing their spears and swords.

The knight reluctantly raised Dawn. He didn't wish to fight, but if he had to...

Moving faster then they could even react, Arthur quickly sidestepped an attempted thrust of the spearman, before quickly grabbing his blade, careful to not scrape it against the wall, smashing the hilt into the man's brain - killing him with ease.

Grabbing another man's sword by the blade, he smashed his gauntleted knuckle into the man's face, before grabbing the side of his head, throwing him into the spears and swords that were slashing at Arthur, causing them to launch a cry of panic as they tried to in vain get their comrade's corpse from their weapons, enabling him to march forward, quickly decapitating three of them, Dawn singing, almost glowing.

Raising his sword once more, he narrowed his eyes, as they gazed at him fearfully.

"Get out of here," he said quietly. "I don't want to kill you, but I will, if I have to."

The three that remained quickly ran down the stairs, leaving him on his own. He wondered if he'd regret that choice, but he had to try to redeem himself. Limiting the number of soldiers who'd lose their lives could be a good start.

Turning towards the window, he looked at the horses that waited for them on the horizon and merely felt more sorrow. He truly had failed.

NOTES:

This chapter is kinda bad overall, I feel, but I kinda had to do this chapter.

I'm sorry again for my lack of regular updates - I used to do it once every two days, but I fell off that rather quickly. I hopefully will regain a rhythm sooner rather then later.

This chapter may not make a lot of sense, but… I foreshadowed it, believe it or not. I'll explain it anyway, in another chapter though.