Happy new year guys! I really have no clue as to how this idea even came to my mind, but I just could not help myself, I really wanted to give this a try!
For Honor is game I really enjoy playing and the story of this world is one I am really intrigued about. Knowing that, Game of Thrones is another one of those treasures that one cannot stop loving/hating for numerous reasons, but I honestly found myself writing a fic where I can combine these two worlds into one.
How this story will play out? Well, I guess we all are just going to have to wait and see how this goes, cause not even know where this story may lead to. In any case, I think that is all I have to say for this prologue, so please enjoy!
Prologue: The Three Factions
If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles…
"So it is true then, Lord Eddard Stark has committed treason against the crown and has been taken prisoner in King's Landing." The voice of a woman echoed throughout the dark corridors, where nothing but small candles produced what little light there was to illuminate the cold stone walls. "I pray for the seven gods that this is nothing more than a big misunderstanding."
"The Lannisters are the ones pulling the ropes here, and with the new King at their disposal, they can do whatever they want with the land, so I have no doubts that it is only a matter of time before he gets executed." The sound of chainmail and leather scraping could be heard, as the man who spoke crossed his arms in contempt.
Lifting a drink to his own lips, a man clad in heavy armor and a helmet resting by his side, spoke with a grunt of displeasure. "These news brings a lot of trouble to the Legion. Not only will we need to send somebody else to take the position of Warden of the North, but we currently don't have any Wardens who hail from there that are competent enough to fit the roll."
"Is it really necessary for the Warden to be from the North? We have a good number of other Wardens who can definitely fit the criteria."
"Don't be foolish! It has been stated generations ago that the assigned Warden of each kingdom must be native to their land. Besides, do you really believe that the people from the North will accept a foreigner as their sworn protector?"
Before any more arguments could be made, the person seating at the middle of the large table lifted a hand. "That's enough, Ser Rowan. We are all well familiar to how the procedure of assignment goes, to which is why I believe the time has come for the Iron Legion to add new recruits from the North into our ranks. Ned Stark is a very good friend of mine and one hell of a Warden. He was a huge asset for the Iron Legion, so replacing him will not be an easy task."
The armored Knight nodded. "To that I agree my Lord, which is why we need to give this matter serious consideration before making a definite decision. With that said, are there any candidates who we can put into consideration?"
There was a moment of chatter around the table. A moment on which everyone discussed what the best attributes for a new member of the Iron Legion would be and just who were the individuals who could posses them. And so one after another, everyone fell silent after a few possible best candidates were named.
"I propose Robb Stark, the first and oldest son of Lord Eddard Stark, to be a potential candidate. Not only is he young and shares the same blood as his father, but I heard that he excels in the art of swordsmanship, well above the level of an average warrior."
"I think not." Stated the man with a shook of his head. "There is word going around about him mobilizing the entirety of the North as a united force in an attempt to rescue his father. If this is in fact true, then his actions will most likely lead to a war that will consume the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms, and we as men of the Iron Legion and keepers of peace cannot allow such thing to happen."
It was certainly surprising to hear the news about the possibility of war breaking out this soon, but not unexpected. Westeros has always been in a constant state of unbalance and shifts of power between the Great Houses were very common, so it was only a matter of time before the next war came. However, that did not mean that everyone was happy about it, or well, at least not everyone.
A rusty chuckle came from the other side of the table. "Honorable, but foolish. That kid is dooming his own people if he truly believes that he can achieve such thing. A shame really, with that kind of courage he would have made for an excellent Warden."
"If we are looking for someone with the blood of a Stark, then maybe we could consider the bastard son of Lord Stark as well. I heard that he is quite formidable with a sword, perhaps even more than his half-brother. He may be another possible candidate."
The proposition of course earned him an indignant scoff. "A bastard as a member of the Iron Legion? Such preposterous thoughts have no place in this table. Besides, last I heard he was headed to Castle Black to join the Night Watch, so I doubt we'll hear anything from him again."
"Regardless of who may take the position of Warden of the North, we must all remember that it is the King who will make the final decision, not us." The only woman inside the room spoke. "For all we know, he may not even choose an actual member of the Legion but a random Lord who just happens to get in his good side."
"The King wouldn't dare do such thing! The Iron Legion has been in charge of the training and assignment of Wardens throughout the Seven Kingdoms for generations!" The statement of course provoked a laugh of mockery from one of his comrades. "Is there something you find amusing, Ser Peyton?"
"I do in fact." The man wearing the heaviest looking armor out of anyone on the table stood up, his head hidden by an iron helmet. "Are you forgetting that man, Tywin Lannister, who was appointed as the Warden of the West despite never being a member of the Iron Legion?"
"That's enough both of you!" The older man on the table stood up from his seat and nailed his longsword on the table. "I wont tolerate any of my captains bickering with each other like brats while the assembly is still in session!"
The harshness on which the man spoke was old, but strong enough to bring order back to the table. Satisfied with the return of silence in the room, he retrieved his weapon from the table and sat down again.
"Good, so now that everyone finally decided to stop acting like a bunch of morons, let us discuss about the possible war that is coming." Obtaining a nod of agreement from each member present on the table, he proceeded to speak. "The Iron Legion has been serving Westeros and its people for hundreds of years, doing its best to avoid and suppress any conflict that arises all around the Seven Kingdoms for the sake of peace, and will continue to do so for a hundred more. With that said, by no means can we allow a war to break out, especially not with winter being so close. If this were to happen, then I'm afraid the Legion will have no option than to fight off the North an end this rebellion once and for all." He turned his head to the direction on which two of his most trusted captains were. "Ser Peyton and Ser Rowan, you both will head to the North and speak with Robb Stark, see if you can talk him down from doing anything reckless like pursuing this war of his."
The two Knights responded with a "Yes my Lord" at the same time, bowing respectfully before taking their leave. Once they were out of the room, the woman on the table decided to make her voice known.
"Is it alright to send someone like Ser Rowan to this sort of task, my Lord?" She asked with concern. "Wouldn't it have been better if it were you the one to speak to the Stark boy? I mean, you are the Warden of Castle Stone and Commander of the Iron Legion, dealing with politics has always been one of your strengths."
"I trust that they both are fully capable of completing this task. And who better than Ser Peyton, a Lawbringer of all people, to bring order to all the chaos in the North?" Said the older knight with some humor in his voice. "Besides, I'll be going to King's Landing to go and speak to our new King, see if perhaps I can convince him to spare Ned's life so we can avoid an unnecessary war."
"I guess that makes sense. Am I correct in assuming that I'll be the one in charge of Castle Stone while you are away, my Lord?"
"That's correct." Replied the old Warden, nodding softly to the woman as he stood up. "With those two gone, it will take another Warden to maintain order in this place, and you are the one I trust the most to do just that. Can I count on you, Krea?"
"Of course my Lord, I will not fail you."
"Then I have nothing to worry about." Picking his steel helmet from the table, the man prepared to take his leave. "Tell Maester Cassius to have my horse and a whole platoon of some of our best men ready, I'll be leaving before dawn."
"At once sire."
War was coming, either they wanted it or not. However, the brothers and sisters of the Iron Legion were always prepared for it. If either savages from the mountains, the Wildlings of the north, nefarious Vikings, a Dothraki horde, the Iron Islands, the reclusive Samurai or even the Great Houses of Westeros ever decided to attack them, then nothing but a guaranteed death awaited them.
For one does not choose the Iron Legion, the Iron Legion chooses them.
Nothing but the pure intensity of the sun could be felt, casting its merciless heat all over a wasteland that could only be described as a lifeless desert, burning the skin and slowly draining whatever life remained on the arid land.
No life could be seen aside from the few figures that traveled under the burning rays of light, moving through the infertile and dying land. Their group consisting in nothing more than a few men, women and children.
Things weren't looking good. Food was running out and so did the water supply. If things were to continue like this, then it was most likely that none of them would live to witness the coming days. The situation was growing more desperate each passing day, and Daenerys knew that more than anybody else.
The responsibility of Khaleesi and the life of the Dothraki that remained loyal to her weighed over her shoulders like a cloth of iron. She tried every possible solution she could think of, something that could perhaps allow her and her people to survive through these harsh times, but her efforts resulted in nothing but failure.
Even the bloodriders who she sent out days ago in search for any signs of cities, or perhaps even food and water, returned with nothing but thirst.
"Ser Jorah." She finally spoke after hours of silence, but one could tell by the sound of her voice alone that she too was tired. "How much longer before we reach the nearest settlement?"
There was a moment of silence, as the Knight took a moment to think before sighing in resignation. "It could perhaps be two weeks from here on until we get to Bayasabhad, but seeing how everyone else is holding right now, it will probably take more."
"We will not last that long!" The desperation of the Khaleesi was clear. Even Jorah was well aware of how dire the situation was, and could not help but curse at his inability to choose a better route after the majority of the Dothraki left with a new Khal. "My people are dying, and if we don't do something about it soon, then none of us will make it out of this desert alive."
"I know Khaleesi, but…" He couldn't get himself to finish the last sentence, feeling ashamed of his own failure. "We don't have any other option."
His words sank deep inside Daenerys mind.
Did they really have no other option than to continue on this pointless journey that will most definitely lead to their demise. Was there really nothing she could do for her people other than dying alongside them? No, there was no way she would ever allow something like that to happen.
She needed to do something. Anything. As long as it could help her save her people, then she would do it. The question is, what?
"Khaleesi, may I have a word with you?" Jorah was quick to stand up when one of the slaves approached them, the Knight's hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend his Khaleesi.
Daenerys recognized the slave as one of the few that she has freed that still desired to stay by her side. His face looked quite familiar, yet she somehow could not remember where she exactly saw him.
"You may." With a gesture of her hand, she ordered the Jorah to stand down.
The slaves usually avoided speaking directly to her out of fear of getting decapitated by one of her bloodriders, which was something that she of course would never allow to happen. Knowing that, she was curious as to just what the former slave wanted to speak with her about.
It was obvious that he was not of Dothraki heritage or from any of the other near lands, so she didn't bother to use the same formalities. Instead, much to her own surprise, he was speaking in the Common Tongue. His figure of speech had a strange accent to it, one that she was not familiar with.
She could tell that he was clearly foreign by his appearance alone, as even his physical and facial features were quite different to that of any other culture that she has seen.
Kneeling before her, the man spoke with a respectful tone. "My Khaleesi, I am fully aware of the gravity of our current situation. I know that it is not my place to influence or criticize the decisions that you make, but I'm afraid that if we are to continue through our current path, then nothing but death will await us at the end of our journey."
"Then what do you suggest we do?" It was Jorah who questioned the former slave, clearly not very fond of the man. "Right now we are headed to what is possibly the closest populated settlement in the entirety of this deserted wasteland."
"No. There is another place that we can probably settle in." He refuted almost instantly, his voice maintaining a solid yet respectful tone. "I've been here before. I recognize this place. We are not that far from where my homeland is. My home."
The former slaver was confused by this newfound information. He has never heard about any village or city that was located anywhere this close to the Red Waste. Then again, it was up to debate if a slave giving out this information could be considered a trustworthy source or not. Unfortunately, he had no chance to reply before the Last Targaryen walked right past him.
"Is it true?!" She questioned in eagerness, her composure almost lost due to the news. Crouching at his same height, she asked once again. "Where is this place? How far is it from here?"
"Over there far in the west, going all the way pass the horizon is where my homeland is located." He pointed far away in the distance, right where a large column of mountains could be seen. "It will probably take three or four days to get there if we continue at our current pace."
Dany's face lighted up almost instantly in what could only be described as authentic joy. If he was speaking the true, then perhaps there still was hope for her people!
"Why didn't you bother to mention this before? Why now of all times?" Questioned Jorah, skeptical about this unknown region.
"My land isn't exactly fond of foreigners, so I was unsure if it was wise talk about it before. However, seeing how desperate our current situation is, I thought that it would be best for the Khaleesi to be the one to decide."
Daenerys could see the reasoning behind his actions. If what he was implying was anything to go by, then it was up to her understanding that this land he spoke of was in fact not a safe place. There was a great chance that going there could put her people in harm's way.
She lifted his head so she could look at the slave directly in the eyes. "What is this place that you speak of?" She asked with delicacy, aware of the apprehension in his mind.
Returning her gaze, the man answered. "The land of the Samurai…"
"By the seven…" Mumbled Jorah under his breath as he took a step back in shock.
He was well aware of who the Samurai were and what they do, and he had no intention of going anywhere near them, especially their homeland of all places. The land he was speaking about was a dangerous and forbidden place that only very few knew of it's location. It was perhaps even more dangerous than being stranded here in the desert.
"Khaleesi, please listen to me. Whatever we do, we must avoid that place however we can." He told her in all seriousness, but she hardly listened to anything that he was saying.
Dany was curious as to what this mysterious new land was like. She has never heard anything about this so called Samurai or even what they are. "Ser Jorah, what do you know about these people called Samurai? I'm unfamiliar with the term."
Jorah resisted the urge to release a heavy sigh, as he was left with no other option than to answer. "The Samurai are formidable warriors that value honor and loyalty above anything else. For them, respect is everything. From what I heard, one of them can equal up to ten trained warriors or perhaps even more. I even had the displeasure of meeting one of them at one time a few years back." Told Jorah with a light groan, as he couldn't help but rub his stomach on the place where a sword once went through. "And lets just say that he left on my something more than a few scars."
"You mean that they are like the Dothraki?"
"No. Unlike the Dothraki, they are disciplined and their culture is mainly sedentary, as they have already established themselves in lands of their own. And while their military strength is unknown, most people are smart enough to avoid them."
She nodded in understanding, now seeing where some of his fear for these individuals was coming from. But there was still something that she did not quite understand.
"I can see why you are so concerned about them, but what's preventing us from talking with them? Perhaps there's a chance for us to reach an agreement."
"Because they are very territorial people and prefer to live in isolation. They do not take invaders lightly and aren't interested in having any diplomatic relationships or open trade with outsiders." He warned her, hoping that he could make her see why choosing to travel to the Samurai lands was a bad idea. "It is not known why they never attempt to expand their territory, but almost no one has ever seen it."
"Then it is decided then." Stretching her arm to the former slave, Daenerys helped him get back on his feet. "Please, lead us to this place."
"Khaleesi, please stop moment and reconsider…" Jorah tried to change the young girl's mind, but the Last Targaryen was having none of that.
"I've made up my mind Ser Jorah. I rather take my chances with the Samurai and attempt to make an agreement with them, rather than spend another minute on a pointless journey in this forsaken desert."
Seeing that there was no changing her mind, Jorah could do nothing but sigh in defeat. "Alright, I'll follow you whatever path you choose to go Khaleesi."
"Good." Nodding in satisfaction, she turned her attention back to the former slave. "Before we leave, may I please know your name?"
Taken back by the sudden request, the man had to pause for a moment to gather his thoughts. "My name is Makoto. Hayashi Makoto."
Raindrops were falling from the sky without any signs of stopping, causing the sea waves to rage across the water, making it much harder to navigate. But that was not enough to hinder their ships from reaching their destination. In fact, the cold winds of the storm were making them go even faster.
The gods were no doubt smiling upon them.
Their ships ravaged the coasts one by one. As they got closer, the smell of the seawater that was assaulting his nostrils grew stronger, along with the smell of ashes and burning flesh. It was the smell of death. He knew that very well and took it as a signal.
Tonight it was either plunder or die with glory and dine in Valhalla.
"Brace for impact!" He heard someone shout.
The wooden floor trembled like thunder when the ship finally hit the coast. Neither he or the other warriors wasted time and jumped overboard, landing on his feet on the wet sand. He could see how the beach was full of the corpses of his fallen comrades, all with a burning arrow buried deep in their bodies. But that did not stop him from rushing forward as a hail of arrows rain upon them.
"Shields up!" The Warlord ordered as he raised his own above his head, stopping the incoming projectiles. The ones behind him did as they were told, but some were not so lucky and perished under the rain of arrows. "Now warriors! To the wall!" The moonlight served as their guide through the darkness on their way up, allowing them to join the others who were already there to climb.
Torches began to light up, illuminating the large stone walls that served as the only thing standing between the Vikings and their plunder. And tonight, they had no intention of leaving this place empty-handed.
Stannis Baratheon was forced to control his anger with gritted teeth. The sight of the invaders as they attempted to bypass the walls of his castle was enough to put the man in a state of utter irritation. One that he had to maintain hidden under his cold and professional demeanor.
The idea of these savages daring to attack him of all people was laughable at best, but not for him. He found the whole act insulting. If they really thought even for a second that coming to this island with their ships, screaming like animals and demanding war was a good idea, then even he had a hard time figuring out just how incompetent their leader must be. Then again they are nothing but a bunch of savages, so thinking was definitely not a capability that they possessed.
He trusted that the fortress of Dragonstone, a place that was specifically designed to stand almost any kind of siege possible, would stand strong against these invaders. But that did not mean that it was impossible to go pass its defenses. And the last and only line of defense that stood between them and the enemy was those damned walls.
"Archers ready!" He ordered to the garrison. The tips of their arrows were burning brightly in flames. "Fire!"
Moving his hand forward, his men fired their arrows at the enemies that were still coming from the coast. They were able to kill a few of them while others hit some of the ships, lighting them up on fire. Watching them burn as they gave light to the dark night, he immediately saw as a grapple latch itself into the edge of the wall. His confusion to this however soon turned into surprise when he saw a barbarian climb from there.
"Damn Vikings…" He cursed them under his breath, pulling his sword out of its sheath and stabbing the warrior in middle of the chest before he could even react. After that he gave the grapple a swift kick, removing it from its place. Unfortunately, more and more grapples came, allowing even more of the enemy troops to climb over. The battle was now taking place above the walls of Dragonstone.
Stannis parried a battle-ax from one of the enemies, causing the invader to lose his footing before slashing his chest open, letting his insides spill over the stone floor. He then went after the closest enemy, cutting his head clean-off his shoulders.
"Hold your ground! Do not let them advance any further!"
It was unexpected to see these savages using tools to shot grapples all the way up here to climb the wall. These barbarians were probably the last people he would ever think that would have something like this. And as he and his men continue to fend off the Viking horde, he soon came to realize that even though they were savages, they definitely had enough strength to be considered formidable opponents, as many of his own soldiers have already fallen to their steel.
More of the Vikings seemed to come after another, but his troops were still more than enough to hold the battle in their favor. The barbarians no doubt had strength but not the discipline required to hold a long-term battle in a place where the enemy clearly had a tactical advantage over them. It was due to this fact that his men were able to push them back just enough to reclaim almost full control of the wall, and soon enough, they began to retreat.
As the battle progressed, Stannis suddenly found himself blocking an incoming attack from a gladius sword. He tried to retaliate, but his opponent stopped his attack with a shield and tried to bash him forward, only for Stannis to get himself out of the way just in time to avoid another incoming strike. Whoever this man is, he is definitely not like the others. He observed with caution, not taking his sight away from the Viking that was was now circling him. His opponent was speaking in a strange language, but he barely gave it any attention.
"I do not know the reason for why you are here savage, but I can tell you that the only thing you will find is the steel of my blade inserted deep inside your throat." No matter what happens tonight, Stannis Baratheon was by no means ever going to allow the audacity of attacking him and his home go unpunished. Of that he sworn under his own name.
The Warlord chuckled in amusement, utterly surprised by the level of skill in swordsmanship that his opponent possessed. The prospect of fighting a worthy opponent from out of the large number of weaklings that he has already killed so far was enough to bring a huge sickening smile to his face. And even though he was able to realize how the battle was turning out for him and his people, he knew that at the very least they must be enjoying the wonders of Valhalla at this very moment.
"Come on you filthy Knight, show me if you have what it takes!" He clashed both his sword and shield together. He by no means liked the idea of retreating, but as a Jarl and representative of his people, he needed to do what was best for them.
The order to retreat back to the ships was already given. Of course some of them decided to stay and keep fighting, wishing to die on their feet with honor alongside their Jarl, but he had no intention of going back home without a proper fight to keep his blood boiling. The Warlord could not allow this many of his people by slain without ever entering the fortress for its plunder.
They were the Crow Clan for Odin's sake!
He roared as he charged forward and brought his sword down to his enemy. The man blocked his attack with great force and pushed him back before trying to stab him. Putting his shield down, the Warlord bounced the sword off and took the chance to headbutt him in the face.
The Knight stumbled back in pain, but quickly composed himself.
But it was too late.
That moment was everything the Viking warrior needed to unleash two consecutive slashes, missing the first attack but landing the second one above the shoulder. A lot of blood came from the wound, but the cut was not deep enough to be considered life-threatening. It did not matter however, as his opponent fell down to the ground, losing the grip on his sword in the process.
He was wide open for the killing blow.
The Warlord laughed in contempt before roaring to the heavens. He was thankful to the Gods for giving him this worthy adversary. But the pleasantries were now over. Now it was the time to take his life.
Or so he thought before he felt the sensation of cold steel in his back.
"My Lord." Sheathing his bloody sword after killing the Viking, Davos helped Stannis get back on his feet. "Are you alright?"
Stannis didn't give an answer. He grunted while holding the side of his wound. Thankfully the wound that savage inflicted on him barely took some of his flesh, so he was able to stand with minor pain. Even he had to be thankful to his loyal Knight for saving his life. He will definitely remember that. But now was not the time.
"What is the situation?" Stannis asked, forcing his way to look outside Dragonstone and to the beach below that laid full of corpses. The battle seemed to be reaching its conclusion.
"We were able to push the enemy off the walls and are now retreating back to their ships. We lost many of our own men during the initial attack, but we still hold more than enough to chase them."
"Good. Prepare the archers then, we will finish them all off as they flee. I have no intentions of letting them escape after what they did."
"Yes my Lord, I will gather them as soon as I…"
"Perhaps that wouldn't be the wise thing to do, my Lord." Spoke a woman in red clothes as she approached them, watching as the Vikings returned to the sea.
"What do you mean?" Stannis questioned the Red Priest, annoyed by the idea of letting these savages go but interested in what she had to say.
Melisandre took her gaze away from the coast to look a torch that remained at the side. "I can see it in the fire. The Lord of Light has important plans for them."
The Onion Knight moved uncomfortably, clearly not convinced by her words. "What purpose could a bunch of Vikings serve your god?"
"The Lord of Light has a purpose for everyone, Ser Davos." Melisandre then smiled. "That includes you as well."
"Enough." Ordered Stannis. He was wounded and had no time to listen to useless bickering. He had a castle to run and defenses to prepare. "What does the Lord of Light told you to do?"
"Right now nothing, but the time will come for you to act, my Lord." Looking back at the horizon, the red woman whispered softly. "For the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors."
Ad that's probably it for this prologue. I have to admit, I'm pretty excited for all the things I can workout within the elements of For Honor and Game of Thrones.
As you guys must have guessed, the Knights and the Iron Legion will be focused more in the entire conflict that will take place in Westeros between the great Houses. Who's side they will fight with? Only time will tell, that's for sure.
The initial events evolving the Dawn Empire and the Samurai will take place in Essos with Daenerys and her people for the time being. How that will go is still unsure, but I can say that it will be an interesting aspect to work with.
And last but not least, the Vikings. They will probably be the trickiest ones for me to work with. Aside from the fact that I have yet to introduce them properly, they will get involved in a lot of events and people, so it is only a matter of time before the Three Factions clash with each other once again, along with any other faction that may join the carnage.
With that said, please let me know what you guys think and any constrictive criticism is welcome. I wish you all a wonderful day and great new year.