Chapter 81 - Battle Against the Divine
New
Samael61
Not too sore, are you?
- Joined
- Apr 6, 2025
- Messages
- 445
- Likes received
- 22,453
Hello there,
If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.
Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Asgard
"Where is Sandor?"
"Training the men, my lord," Tyrion reported.
"Someone fetch him immediately," he said to the guards.
"Have you achieved something with the crystal?" the dwarf asked, still focused on his work.
"Yes. I want to see if I can heal his scar."
His hand jerked, leaving a trail of ink on the paper. "Any chance it could fix my diminutive state?"
"I don't know, we'll see," he said.
Sandor, ever close by, entered the room."My lord."
"Sandor, come closer," he said. Sandor approached hesitantly, prompting Robert to roll his eyes.
"Closer."
"For the love of it," he grumbled. Since Sandor was so hesitant to approach him because of the flames, Robert walked up to him instead. His palm rested on the man's forehead, his fingers spread and locked tightly.
Sandor froze.
"This might hurt a bit," he warned. The gem began to emit a glow, barely a shine at first, before it intensified.
Tyrion hopped off his chair and hid beneath the desk. Whatever Robert was doing, he did not want to be in its line of sight.
Sandor screamed.
He felt as if hundreds of hot needles were stabbing his scar and fell to his knees before blissfully passing away.
"Hey, it worked," he said, inspecting the now smooth skin.
"Truly?" Tyrion popped out, walking to check the man's face.
"Incredible," he muttered, seeing the ugly burn scar gone. The new, smooth and undamaged skin took the scary visage away, leaving him more human.
"I can try this on you, but if the pain of that scar was enough to knock him out, I don't think you'll survive." Remaking the dwarf into an ordinary human would be too traumatic for the body.
"Well," he sat on his chair again. "I enjoy living, so I shall pass this time."
"Get him to his room until he wakes up."
"Yes, my lord."
—
He was done with his magical shenanigans and started to catch up with his work. The city expanded every day. It was organized, structured, and well funded. There would be no slums, no narrow streets, but a spacious settlement in harmony with nature.
The Children of the Forest took work on that front, planting trees, shrubbery—mostly fruit-bearing ones at his insistence—and even helping the farmers raise healthy crops.
Everyone in Asgard had a part to play.
His current part was the Declaration of Sophont Rights. It was similar to the one back on Earth, modified to fit the cultures and geopolitical state of this planet.
Sixteen pages in total with explanations for some of the concepts, he had the clerks create copies to be sent to everywhere. King's Landing, nobles, and the Free Cities would each receive one to read and send feedback, and once they agreed to sign it, investment would flow.
With how dependent they were on slavery, he would kill two birds with one stone. Not only would he have great influence over the cities, he would start the end of slavery.
The irony was delicious. The wealth of Valyria, acquired through slavery and conquests, would be used to end slavery.
He hoped the dragonlords of old were turning in their graves.
—
"Sandor, there you are. How do you feel?"
The hound touched the left side of his face, feeling the smooth skin. Knowing the mark left on his face by his brother was gone still didn't feel real to him.
"You don't have to say anything; you are welcome."
"I… as you wish."
From that day onwards, Sandor was less apprehensive to fire. He still felt uncomfortable, something Robert could see, but far less than before.
—
Months of back and forth, and the Free Cities, from Braavos to Qarth, had agreed to sign and implement the declaration.
Slavery and torture would be prohibited first. Courts, inspired by what Robert had set up in Asgard, would be adapted to each city and more.
In return, he would invest millions of gold dragons in chosen areas of production, services, and more in the cities that were dependent on slavery. The smooth transition would stop the chaos that would follow, and the free people would be the winners.
And him too, but that was neither here nor there.
—
290 AC
Robert stood before the assembly that had gathered in the city square. The Sea Lord, the oligarchs of the Free Cities, traders, and citizens of Asgard were waiting for him to start the speech.
"Guests and citizens, welcome. Today is a great day for the history of this world. "Today is the day." He raised his index finger to punctuate the point, but his speech was interrupted. Not by the dignitaries, not by any traders or dissatisfied parties, but by thunder.
The sky darkened in an instant. The sunlight disappeared behind the clouds as if someone had just flicked a switch to turn it off. Rain poured down on the city, drops sizzling on his laurel.
The celebratory mood was washed away in seconds. The gathered assembly left in panic, seeking shelter while he stood there, blinking. He slowly lowered his finger, taking a deep breath to calm down.
—
He ordered the assembly to head inside Valhalla.
"This storm is the work of the gods," Leaf said.
Robert's face scrunched as if he had aten a lemon. "No shit. It appeared in a second."
"How do I get to the god responsible for this?" he asked.
"He is the one deeply tied to the history of your house."
His right eye twitched. "Again, how do I get to that bastard?"
"Come."
"Tyrion, tell the guests I am off to deal with the source of this storm."
—
"Touch the tree; let it guide you to the god of the sea."
"That bitch better have an explanation for this," he scowled. The bark of the weirwood tree felt like a liquid beneath his fingers. When he took a step closer, it gave away, and he fell inside.
—
Only to appear high in the sky. The dark skies glittered with violet stars, but there wasn't a single cloud in sight.
His brows furrowed, wondering why the god of the sea wouldn't be seated in the sea.
Lightning flashed overhead, and he saw the mistake. He wasn't in the sky but beneath the waters, in the reflection of the water.
There was a figure in the distance, a throne. He held the sword tightly, walking towards it. He hadn't even taken his armor, though, against a god, it wouldn't offer much. As he approached the throne, he could see the figure and the one next to him were asleep.
The female, the sea god's wife and Elenei's mother, looked normal enough. Black hair, diamond-shaped face, and dressed in a white toga.
It was her father that looked weird.
The sides of his eyes had white, pulsating veins. A deep, dark blue color spread from the middle of his forearm to his nails. More of the white veins, less apparent, glowed faintly. His nails were sharp, almost claw-like.
He was slouching on the throne, dark locks covering a part of his face. He only wore white trousers, upper half lying naked. He wasn't muscled, not like Robert was, but his build was thick.
"Hey dumbass, wake up," he roared, shaking the air.
The sea god and his wife were not startled but merely woke up as if it were the time. Now that he was standing straight, his ancestor from eight thousand years ago made it apparent where the Durrandon, and then the Baratheon, looks came from.
His eyes were the same shade of blue as his, and the face shared the same strong outline.
"That stench. You are of Durran's ilk."
"Durran died like eight thousand years ago," he said.
"Yet his house prospers."
"Not really. They were conquered like three centuries ago. It's Baratheon now."
"The names do not matter; the blood does," the god of sea bellowed.
"Whatever. Listen, I was in the middle of achieving something great, and your little temper tantrum screwed it up. Get rid of this storm now," he said, pointing up.
"You presume to order me, mortal?" he asked, teeth bared.
"I'll do more than that if you don't back off, you decrepit fool," Robert sneered.
"You came into my domain, insulted me, and commanded me, and you expect to live? You certainly don't have Durran's smarts," the sea god said.
He struck, his left arm a blue blur.
Robert raised his hand, catching the fist. His laurel flared into existence, as did the flames in his eye. He pulled the sea god forward and headbutted him on the nose.
He flew back, lying at the feet of his wife, eyes glazed.
"Argal!" she shouted, rushing to his side.
"You... how is this possible?"
"None of your business. Get rid of the storm now."
"Elenora, stand back," Argal growled. He pointed his left hand at Robert, firing a bolt of lightning.
Robert held his sword by the blade's side and struck the bolt, sending it beyond where the two gods were standing.
"You asked for it," he sneered. Flames engulfed him, and he leaped forward. Argal met his charge, blocking the sharp tip of the sword with his left hand, sending Robert back this time.
He did not stop there, rushing to meet Robert halfway.
His sword morphed around his fists, becoming thick gauntlets with sharp ridges covering the knuckles. He dodged to the left, striking back. Argal raised both arms, wincing as the knuckles dug into his flesh.
He continued to defend as Robert rained a flurry of blows. He pulled his right arm back, gauntlets flowing like liquid metal to reform the sword, this time with a sharp blade.
He thrust the sword beneath the sea god's defense, aiming for a lethal blow. His opponent wasn't done so easily.
A geyser of sea water struck him from below, launching him upwards. Robert backflipped in the air, dodging another jet of water.
Argal lowered his arms, watching the mortal warily. This one wasn't like the rest. That sword, and the shallow divine essence he carried, made him dangerous.
Dangerous enough that he would have to die now.
While he was ruminating, Robert struck again. The sword turned into a hammer with a hook, ready to break through the sea god's defenses. His wife, Elenora, stood next to him, waving her arms in an intricate pattern.
A gust of wind came out of nowhere, strong enough to almost send him flying. He tried to push forward but couldn't take the step.
He grinned, an idea striking him like a spark.
Flames rose high, fanned by the wind she was using against him. The heat increased, forcing Elenora to take a step back, disrupting her concentration. It also had the added benefit of turning the geysers into steam instantly.
A small weakness in the gale was all he needed to push the flames through. Argal stepped in the way, blocking the attack, but it was enough to stop the winds.
He swung the hammer, turning it to a whip midway. His ancestors did not expect the trick, barely leaping back to avoid it, though they did not stop. Strike after strike gave them no chance but to scramble away from the scorching flames.
Argal slammed his feet on the ground, and Robert had to stop. A wave, enormous enough to sweep his dragons away, rose from the transparent ground. It washed over the gods before him harmlessly, seconds away from his position.
His whip turned to a sword once more, crimson flames gathering at the blade. He brought it down with a bellow. The flames extended out of the blade, carving the wave into two. An intense wave of scolding steam covered the area, blinding them all.
Though, they all saw with more than just eyes.
Argal stepped in front of his wife, meeting the blade with his hand, ready to strike back at the owner. Only, the mortal was nowhere to be seen as the sword acted on its own.
His eyes widened, realizing what had happened, but he was a moment too late.
Robert appeared out of the mist, having circled Argal, and struck Elenora. The kick knocked her out instantly, sending her crashing into the throne.
"No!" Argal screamed. His hand crackled with lightning, blasting the sword away, and turned to Robert, meeting his punch with a punch.
Three punches, each one causing a blast of air at the point of contact, and neither warrior found victory. On the fourth punch, Robert opened his hand, arm flowing around Argal's, catching him by the bicep. He flipped him over his shoulder.
Before Argal could leap to his feet, he caught the sea god by the leg, slamming him side to side with both hands.
The ground shook with each smash, drowning Argal's grunts of pain. He threw the god up next, catching him by the throat as he fell.
"You should have just ended that storm, you old bastard," he scowled, fingers digging into the sea god's neck.
"Durran took my daughter; I won't stop until I take everything from his people," Argal screamed, slamming his hand on Robert's arm.
"Good luck doing that when you are dead," he retorted, ignoring the pain and continuing to squeeze.
Argal panicked and tried to pry the fingers off with lightning. Robert commanded his sword to wrap around the arm, containing the magic in it.
He grinned, continuing to squeeze, but his bloodlust blinded him to Elenora. She appeared out of a mirage, bringing her hand down. He saw the flicker of a distortion, and pain bloomed in his arm.
He cursed, gritting his teeth as he stepped back. The pain was dulled by the adrenaline and the heat of his flames, but it shocked him to see his left arm drop to the ground.
Blood gushed out of the wound, staining the ground. Rather than try to finish him off, Elenora ran to her husband, kicking Robert's severed hand aside. She helped her husband up while Robert tried to concentrate to find a solution.
He did not have the time to use the crystal, but seeing Argal's struggle to free his arm gave him an idea.
The crimson crystal wrapped around Argal's magical arm melted down like ice, flying to slam into Robert's stump. Through the pain, he reconstituted it into a crude arm, quick enough to release a stream of fire to meet the geyser.
—
"Lord Tyrion, what is the meaning of this? Where is Lord Robert?" the Pentosi envoy asked, face red like a tomato.
Tyrion looked around, thinking, quickly deciding to tell the truth. "He has left to resolve the matter of the storm."
"How so?"
"You don't want to know," he assured the envoy. Even he didn't want to know, and he was the second-highest-ranked person in the city.
"We have spent months planning for this moment. I do want to know," the envoy demanded.
Tyrion looked at the man with half-lidded eyes and shrugged. "Well, do you know the story of Durran Godsgrief?"
If he wanted to know, the dwarf was happy to oblige.
"Everyone does." Robert's deeds had made him famous across both continents. It was inevitable for the story of Durran Godsgrief and Elenei to spread beyond the Seven Kingdoms.
"You see, the Children of the Forest have assured us that the sea god, the one in the legends, is the one responsible for this storm. Lord Robert has gone to kill him, because no one rains on his parade."
"Oh," the envoy muttered, his face suddenly blank.
Tyrion smiled behind his hand, enjoying the sight. "Oh indeed."
The skies were lit white and red in that moment, signaling the start of the battle.
He took a glass of wine, sitting down to enjoy the colors.
Notes: Sorry for the delay, my mind turned blank on what to write. I wanted to keep this for later, but here we are.
—
In the next chapter:
"My lord!" The guards at the gate saluted as the doors were opened for him.
"Guards," he greeted with a nod.
"My lord."
"Guards."
"My lord," more guards saluted him, and Robert's eye twitched. This was going to be a long walk.
"Guards."
Once he managed to not blow at someone who did not deserve it after the hundredth salute and reached the banquet hall, the gathered dignitaries turned to him, frozen like statues.
Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.
If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.
Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
Asgard
"Where is Sandor?"
"Training the men, my lord," Tyrion reported.
"Someone fetch him immediately," he said to the guards.
"Have you achieved something with the crystal?" the dwarf asked, still focused on his work.
"Yes. I want to see if I can heal his scar."
His hand jerked, leaving a trail of ink on the paper. "Any chance it could fix my diminutive state?"
"I don't know, we'll see," he said.
Sandor, ever close by, entered the room."My lord."
"Sandor, come closer," he said. Sandor approached hesitantly, prompting Robert to roll his eyes.
"Closer."
"For the love of it," he grumbled. Since Sandor was so hesitant to approach him because of the flames, Robert walked up to him instead. His palm rested on the man's forehead, his fingers spread and locked tightly.
Sandor froze.
"This might hurt a bit," he warned. The gem began to emit a glow, barely a shine at first, before it intensified.
Tyrion hopped off his chair and hid beneath the desk. Whatever Robert was doing, he did not want to be in its line of sight.
Sandor screamed.
He felt as if hundreds of hot needles were stabbing his scar and fell to his knees before blissfully passing away.
"Hey, it worked," he said, inspecting the now smooth skin.
"Truly?" Tyrion popped out, walking to check the man's face.
"Incredible," he muttered, seeing the ugly burn scar gone. The new, smooth and undamaged skin took the scary visage away, leaving him more human.
"I can try this on you, but if the pain of that scar was enough to knock him out, I don't think you'll survive." Remaking the dwarf into an ordinary human would be too traumatic for the body.
"Well," he sat on his chair again. "I enjoy living, so I shall pass this time."
"Get him to his room until he wakes up."
"Yes, my lord."
—
He was done with his magical shenanigans and started to catch up with his work. The city expanded every day. It was organized, structured, and well funded. There would be no slums, no narrow streets, but a spacious settlement in harmony with nature.
The Children of the Forest took work on that front, planting trees, shrubbery—mostly fruit-bearing ones at his insistence—and even helping the farmers raise healthy crops.
Everyone in Asgard had a part to play.
His current part was the Declaration of Sophont Rights. It was similar to the one back on Earth, modified to fit the cultures and geopolitical state of this planet.
Sixteen pages in total with explanations for some of the concepts, he had the clerks create copies to be sent to everywhere. King's Landing, nobles, and the Free Cities would each receive one to read and send feedback, and once they agreed to sign it, investment would flow.
With how dependent they were on slavery, he would kill two birds with one stone. Not only would he have great influence over the cities, he would start the end of slavery.
The irony was delicious. The wealth of Valyria, acquired through slavery and conquests, would be used to end slavery.
He hoped the dragonlords of old were turning in their graves.
—
"Sandor, there you are. How do you feel?"
The hound touched the left side of his face, feeling the smooth skin. Knowing the mark left on his face by his brother was gone still didn't feel real to him.
"You don't have to say anything; you are welcome."
"I… as you wish."
From that day onwards, Sandor was less apprehensive to fire. He still felt uncomfortable, something Robert could see, but far less than before.
—
Months of back and forth, and the Free Cities, from Braavos to Qarth, had agreed to sign and implement the declaration.
Slavery and torture would be prohibited first. Courts, inspired by what Robert had set up in Asgard, would be adapted to each city and more.
In return, he would invest millions of gold dragons in chosen areas of production, services, and more in the cities that were dependent on slavery. The smooth transition would stop the chaos that would follow, and the free people would be the winners.
And him too, but that was neither here nor there.
—
290 AC
Robert stood before the assembly that had gathered in the city square. The Sea Lord, the oligarchs of the Free Cities, traders, and citizens of Asgard were waiting for him to start the speech.
"Guests and citizens, welcome. Today is a great day for the history of this world. "Today is the day." He raised his index finger to punctuate the point, but his speech was interrupted. Not by the dignitaries, not by any traders or dissatisfied parties, but by thunder.
The sky darkened in an instant. The sunlight disappeared behind the clouds as if someone had just flicked a switch to turn it off. Rain poured down on the city, drops sizzling on his laurel.
The celebratory mood was washed away in seconds. The gathered assembly left in panic, seeking shelter while he stood there, blinking. He slowly lowered his finger, taking a deep breath to calm down.
—
He ordered the assembly to head inside Valhalla.
"This storm is the work of the gods," Leaf said.
Robert's face scrunched as if he had aten a lemon. "No shit. It appeared in a second."
"How do I get to the god responsible for this?" he asked.
"He is the one deeply tied to the history of your house."
His right eye twitched. "Again, how do I get to that bastard?"
"Come."
"Tyrion, tell the guests I am off to deal with the source of this storm."
—
"Touch the tree; let it guide you to the god of the sea."
"That bitch better have an explanation for this," he scowled. The bark of the weirwood tree felt like a liquid beneath his fingers. When he took a step closer, it gave away, and he fell inside.
—
Only to appear high in the sky. The dark skies glittered with violet stars, but there wasn't a single cloud in sight.
His brows furrowed, wondering why the god of the sea wouldn't be seated in the sea.
Lightning flashed overhead, and he saw the mistake. He wasn't in the sky but beneath the waters, in the reflection of the water.
There was a figure in the distance, a throne. He held the sword tightly, walking towards it. He hadn't even taken his armor, though, against a god, it wouldn't offer much. As he approached the throne, he could see the figure and the one next to him were asleep.
The female, the sea god's wife and Elenei's mother, looked normal enough. Black hair, diamond-shaped face, and dressed in a white toga.
It was her father that looked weird.
The sides of his eyes had white, pulsating veins. A deep, dark blue color spread from the middle of his forearm to his nails. More of the white veins, less apparent, glowed faintly. His nails were sharp, almost claw-like.
He was slouching on the throne, dark locks covering a part of his face. He only wore white trousers, upper half lying naked. He wasn't muscled, not like Robert was, but his build was thick.
"Hey dumbass, wake up," he roared, shaking the air.
The sea god and his wife were not startled but merely woke up as if it were the time. Now that he was standing straight, his ancestor from eight thousand years ago made it apparent where the Durrandon, and then the Baratheon, looks came from.
His eyes were the same shade of blue as his, and the face shared the same strong outline.
"That stench. You are of Durran's ilk."
"Durran died like eight thousand years ago," he said.
"Yet his house prospers."
"Not really. They were conquered like three centuries ago. It's Baratheon now."
"The names do not matter; the blood does," the god of sea bellowed.
"Whatever. Listen, I was in the middle of achieving something great, and your little temper tantrum screwed it up. Get rid of this storm now," he said, pointing up.
"You presume to order me, mortal?" he asked, teeth bared.
"I'll do more than that if you don't back off, you decrepit fool," Robert sneered.
"You came into my domain, insulted me, and commanded me, and you expect to live? You certainly don't have Durran's smarts," the sea god said.
He struck, his left arm a blue blur.
Robert raised his hand, catching the fist. His laurel flared into existence, as did the flames in his eye. He pulled the sea god forward and headbutted him on the nose.
He flew back, lying at the feet of his wife, eyes glazed.
"Argal!" she shouted, rushing to his side.
"You... how is this possible?"
"None of your business. Get rid of the storm now."
"Elenora, stand back," Argal growled. He pointed his left hand at Robert, firing a bolt of lightning.
Robert held his sword by the blade's side and struck the bolt, sending it beyond where the two gods were standing.
"You asked for it," he sneered. Flames engulfed him, and he leaped forward. Argal met his charge, blocking the sharp tip of the sword with his left hand, sending Robert back this time.
He did not stop there, rushing to meet Robert halfway.
His sword morphed around his fists, becoming thick gauntlets with sharp ridges covering the knuckles. He dodged to the left, striking back. Argal raised both arms, wincing as the knuckles dug into his flesh.
He continued to defend as Robert rained a flurry of blows. He pulled his right arm back, gauntlets flowing like liquid metal to reform the sword, this time with a sharp blade.
He thrust the sword beneath the sea god's defense, aiming for a lethal blow. His opponent wasn't done so easily.
A geyser of sea water struck him from below, launching him upwards. Robert backflipped in the air, dodging another jet of water.
Argal lowered his arms, watching the mortal warily. This one wasn't like the rest. That sword, and the shallow divine essence he carried, made him dangerous.
Dangerous enough that he would have to die now.
While he was ruminating, Robert struck again. The sword turned into a hammer with a hook, ready to break through the sea god's defenses. His wife, Elenora, stood next to him, waving her arms in an intricate pattern.
A gust of wind came out of nowhere, strong enough to almost send him flying. He tried to push forward but couldn't take the step.
He grinned, an idea striking him like a spark.
Flames rose high, fanned by the wind she was using against him. The heat increased, forcing Elenora to take a step back, disrupting her concentration. It also had the added benefit of turning the geysers into steam instantly.
A small weakness in the gale was all he needed to push the flames through. Argal stepped in the way, blocking the attack, but it was enough to stop the winds.
He swung the hammer, turning it to a whip midway. His ancestors did not expect the trick, barely leaping back to avoid it, though they did not stop. Strike after strike gave them no chance but to scramble away from the scorching flames.
Argal slammed his feet on the ground, and Robert had to stop. A wave, enormous enough to sweep his dragons away, rose from the transparent ground. It washed over the gods before him harmlessly, seconds away from his position.
His whip turned to a sword once more, crimson flames gathering at the blade. He brought it down with a bellow. The flames extended out of the blade, carving the wave into two. An intense wave of scolding steam covered the area, blinding them all.
Though, they all saw with more than just eyes.
Argal stepped in front of his wife, meeting the blade with his hand, ready to strike back at the owner. Only, the mortal was nowhere to be seen as the sword acted on its own.
His eyes widened, realizing what had happened, but he was a moment too late.
Robert appeared out of the mist, having circled Argal, and struck Elenora. The kick knocked her out instantly, sending her crashing into the throne.
"No!" Argal screamed. His hand crackled with lightning, blasting the sword away, and turned to Robert, meeting his punch with a punch.
Three punches, each one causing a blast of air at the point of contact, and neither warrior found victory. On the fourth punch, Robert opened his hand, arm flowing around Argal's, catching him by the bicep. He flipped him over his shoulder.
Before Argal could leap to his feet, he caught the sea god by the leg, slamming him side to side with both hands.
The ground shook with each smash, drowning Argal's grunts of pain. He threw the god up next, catching him by the throat as he fell.
"You should have just ended that storm, you old bastard," he scowled, fingers digging into the sea god's neck.
"Durran took my daughter; I won't stop until I take everything from his people," Argal screamed, slamming his hand on Robert's arm.
"Good luck doing that when you are dead," he retorted, ignoring the pain and continuing to squeeze.
Argal panicked and tried to pry the fingers off with lightning. Robert commanded his sword to wrap around the arm, containing the magic in it.
He grinned, continuing to squeeze, but his bloodlust blinded him to Elenora. She appeared out of a mirage, bringing her hand down. He saw the flicker of a distortion, and pain bloomed in his arm.
He cursed, gritting his teeth as he stepped back. The pain was dulled by the adrenaline and the heat of his flames, but it shocked him to see his left arm drop to the ground.
Blood gushed out of the wound, staining the ground. Rather than try to finish him off, Elenora ran to her husband, kicking Robert's severed hand aside. She helped her husband up while Robert tried to concentrate to find a solution.
He did not have the time to use the crystal, but seeing Argal's struggle to free his arm gave him an idea.
The crimson crystal wrapped around Argal's magical arm melted down like ice, flying to slam into Robert's stump. Through the pain, he reconstituted it into a crude arm, quick enough to release a stream of fire to meet the geyser.
—
"Lord Tyrion, what is the meaning of this? Where is Lord Robert?" the Pentosi envoy asked, face red like a tomato.
Tyrion looked around, thinking, quickly deciding to tell the truth. "He has left to resolve the matter of the storm."
"How so?"
"You don't want to know," he assured the envoy. Even he didn't want to know, and he was the second-highest-ranked person in the city.
"We have spent months planning for this moment. I do want to know," the envoy demanded.
Tyrion looked at the man with half-lidded eyes and shrugged. "Well, do you know the story of Durran Godsgrief?"
If he wanted to know, the dwarf was happy to oblige.
"Everyone does." Robert's deeds had made him famous across both continents. It was inevitable for the story of Durran Godsgrief and Elenei to spread beyond the Seven Kingdoms.
"You see, the Children of the Forest have assured us that the sea god, the one in the legends, is the one responsible for this storm. Lord Robert has gone to kill him, because no one rains on his parade."
"Oh," the envoy muttered, his face suddenly blank.
Tyrion smiled behind his hand, enjoying the sight. "Oh indeed."
The skies were lit white and red in that moment, signaling the start of the battle.
He took a glass of wine, sitting down to enjoy the colors.
Notes: Sorry for the delay, my mind turned blank on what to write. I wanted to keep this for later, but here we are.
—
In the next chapter:
"My lord!" The guards at the gate saluted as the doors were opened for him.
"Guards," he greeted with a nod.
"My lord."
"Guards."
"My lord," more guards saluted him, and Robert's eye twitched. This was going to be a long walk.
"Guards."
Once he managed to not blow at someone who did not deserve it after the hundredth salute and reached the banquet hall, the gathered dignitaries turned to him, frozen like statues.
Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.
