The Stronghammer - CH - 36 (Patreon)

As Robert and Galen walked through the dimly lit tunnels, the flickering light from the sconces casting long shadows on the stone walls, Galen broke the silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “when you left, the Legion had a lot of theories about why. Some thought it was because you couldn’t stomach the dirtier side of our work. You were always the knight, after all—trained with honor and all that. Some figured you just couldn’t reconcile that with the things we had to do to uphold justice.”

Robert nodded but remained silent, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor as they descended deeper into the tunnel system. He had expected as much. The Blackstone Legion wasn’t like the knights of Westeros, bound by chivalry and vows. They operated in the shadows, dealing with smugglers, thieves, and nobles alike, often treading moral gray areas that Robert had struggled with during his time with them.

“But,” Galen continued, glancing at Robert as they walked, “not once did we think you were a traitor. You didn’t betray us, Robert. Some of us thought you might’ve just needed to find your own way, maybe figure out where you fit into all this. We knew you were different from the rest of us.”

Robert looked over at Galen, surprised by the man’s words. “So you didn’t hold it against me?”

Galen gave a small shrug, the scar on his face pulling slightly as he smirked. “Nah. Sure, some were pissed you left without a word. Holden especially. He wasn’t happy about it, that’s for sure. But traitor? No. You weren’t that. We just thought… maybe the Blackstone Legion wasn’t for you after all.”

Robert exhaled slowly, feeling a strange sense of relief at Galen’s words. He had always worried that his departure might have been seen as an abandonment of the Legion, that they would see him as someone who had turned his back on them. But hearing that they hadn’t considered him a traitor—just someone who had needed to walk a different path—meant more to him than he had realized.

“Why didn’t you say anything before I left?” Robert asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

Galen looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t think it was our place. We all have our reasons for doing what we do. You had yours. If you wanted to go, we weren’t going to stop you. You were free to make your own choices, just like any of us.”

They reached a bend in the tunnel, the familiar iron-bound door to the main base just ahead. Robert slowed his pace, letting Galen’s words sink in.

“I didn’t leave because of what the Legion did,” Robert said finally. “I left because I had a chance to build something. Something bigger than myself, bigger than any of us. I needed to see if I could do it.”

Galen stopped in front of the door, turning to face Robert. “And did you?”

Robert met his gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I did. That’s why I’m back. I want the Legion to be part of it.”

Galen studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Well, you’ll have to convince Holden of that. But if you’re offering a chance to be part of something bigger… I think he’ll listen.”

With that, Galen pushed open the door, revealing the large chamber of the Blackstone Legion’s base. The room fell silent as Robert stepped inside, the eyes of his former comrades turning toward him. Holden stood at the far end, his arms crossed, his green eyes sharp as he watched him approach.

And as Robert made his way forward, Galen’s words echoed in his mind: They never thought you were a traitor.

Robert scanned the room, taking in the sight of the Blackstone Legion. There were many familiar faces—grizzled veterans who had fought alongside him in countless skirmishes. But there were also new faces, younger men, and even a few older warriors who had joined the Legion during his absence. All of them carried the same hardened expressions, the look of men who had seen their share of battles. Every one of them exuded the unmistakable aura of a seasoned fighter.

Just as he was about to speak, a sudden blur of movement caught his attention. Without warning Holden Cross swung his sword toward Robert with lightning speed. Instinctively, Robert drew his own blade, the familiar weight of it in his hand, and met Holden’s strike head-on. Sparks flew as steel clashed against steel.

The room erupted into excited murmurs as the two men engaged in a flurry of strikes and counters. Robert’s muscles, long used to the rigors of combat, responded automatically. Every parry, every thrust felt like second nature to him. Holden was relentless, testing Robert’s speed, strength, and precision. The clash of their swords rang out in the chamber, the sharp clang of metal echoing off the walls.

But Robert wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He matched Holden’s ferocity blow for blow, dodging and countering with the precision and discipline he had learned during his time with the Legion. His body moved fluidly, as if he had never left.

After what felt like minutes of intense combat, Holden abruptly halted, stepping back with a grin spreading across his scarred face. He lowered his sword, still breathing heavily, but with a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

“You still didn’t forget what we taught you,” Holden said, sheathing his blade. His voice was rough, but there was a hint of pride in it. He extended his hand, and Robert, still catching his breath, took it firmly.

Robert smiled, then pulled Holden into a strong embrace. “I learned from the best,” Robert replied, patting his old friend on the back.

The tension in the room evaporated. The air, thick with uncertainty when Robert first entered, now felt lighter as the crowd relaxed. There were nods of approval from the others. The fight hadn’t been about hostility—it had been a test, a way for the Legion to gauge whether Robert had truly remained one of them. And Robert had passed.

Holden chuckled as they pulled apart. “You’ve been gone for a long time, but it seems the warrior in you never left. The Legion’s still proud of you, Robert.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd, and Robert looked around, his heart swelling with a sense of belonging. These men were more than just comrades-in-arms—they were his brothers. And now, with his plans for the future in mind, he was ready to bring them along on the journey.

“Good to see some things don’t change,” Robert said, his eyes sweeping the room. “I’m back, and I’ve got big plans. But first, let’s catch up. There’s a lot to talk about.”

The atmosphere in the room was now one of camaraderie. Old friends began to approach, shaking Robert’s hand, slapping him on the back, and offering him a drink. The Legion, it seemed, was ready to hear what he had to say.

As the Blackstone Legion settled into a quieter hum of conversation, Robert found a seat near the center of the room, surrounded by his fellow Blackstone Legion members. Faces he had once fought beside, faces he had once trusted with his life, all gathered to hear his tale. Robert leaned forward, his voice low but commanding, drawing their attention.

“I've been gone for two years,” Robert began, taking a sip of his drink. "And I didn’t leave without a reason. I fell in love with Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.” There was a shift in the room, surprised murmurs echoing around him. But Robert continued, undeterred. “I wanted more than what we had here. I wanted a kingdom of my own, something to offer her. So, I sailed to Essos.”

Robert paused, his mind briefly drifting back to those early days in Essos—claiming the Axe, struggling to turn it into something more than a barren land, and dealing with bandits, Dothraki, and the harsh realities of building from scratch. He didn’t mention Cannibal, the massive dragon he had claimed, not yet. That part of his plan was still his secret to hold, for now.

“I’ve spent these past two years building something real. A kingdom in the east, far from the grasp of Westerosi politics. It’s still small, but it’s growing—there’s land, resources, and people willing to live under my rule, because I protect them.”

The men of the Legion listened in silence, their expressions shifting between interest, admiration, and concern. Robert's vision was ambitious—far more ambitious than anything they’d seen from him before.

“I built all of this,” Robert continued, “with the idea that once it was stable, I would come back to Westeros and ask for Rhaenyra’s hand in marriage. To give her something to stand on beyond what her father or her position as his heir could offer.”

Galen, who had been sitting beside Robert, cleared his throat. “Robert,” he said carefully, “there’s something you need to know. Things have changed in King’s Landing.”

Robert’s brow furrowed as Galen spoke, the older knight’s voice heavy with the weight of news he knew would hurt.

“Rhaenyra… she’s been betrothed to Laenor Velaryon,” Galen said. “King Viserys made the match. He wants to keep the peace with House Velaryon, and he’s hoping that by marrying Rhaenyra to Laenor, it’ll satisfy the Velaryons' ambitions. Lord Corlys has been pushing for his family’s influence to grow, and Viserys isn’t willing to risk a fight over it.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Robert processed the information. His jaw tightened, and a flicker of anger crossed his face. He had spent years planning, building, and fighting for a future that now seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

Galen continued cautiously, “With Rhaenyra still named as Viserys' heir, this marriage to Laenor ensures the Velaryons' power. And Rhaenys Targaryen, Laenor’s mother, won't protest, because it means her grandson could be King of Westeros one day.”

Robert's hands clenched into fists on the table. He had expected obstacles, but not this. Laenor Velaryon—an heir to the powerful Velaryon fleet and one of the richest houses in Westeros—now stood between him and Rhaenyra. But Robert wasn't just going to give up. He had come too far.

“That changes things,” Robert finally said, his voice steely. “But it doesn't end them. Rhaenyra is still Viserys’ heir. The Velaryons may have their plans, but I have mine. I didn’t come all this way to let someone else take what I’ve worked for.”

The room remained quiet, the men watching Robert carefully. They knew he was a man who didn’t give up easily, and they had seen firsthand what he was capable of. But they also knew how dangerous the game of politics could be, especially when dragons were involved.

Robert leaned back, the weight of the news settling in his mind. He had decisions to make, and quickly. Laenor Velaryon was a formidable rival, not just because of his fleet or his wealth, but because of what his marriage to Rhaenyra represented. But Robert wasn’t going to let that stop him.

“Thank you for telling me, Galen,” Robert said, his voice calm but determined. “It just means I need to move faster. Laenor or not, I will not let my claim to Rhaenyra slip away.”

Holden Cross, who had been silent through the exchange, nodded. “We’re with you, Robert. Always have been. Whatever you need.”

Robert met Holden’s gaze, then looked around the room at the other Legion members. They were his brothers, and he knew they would stand with him, no matter how dangerous the path ahead became.

He approached the small house where he knew Tyson, his old squire, now worked as a servant in the Red Keep. Tyson was a boy of many connections, particularly with Rhaenyra. If anyone could help Robert, it would be him.

Inside the dimly lit house, Robert spotted Tyson clearing his table in the corner. His wiry frame hadn’t changed much, though he seemed more cautious, like a boy who had seen too much of court politics.

“Tyson,” Robert said in a booming voice.

The boy froze for a moment before turning around, his eyes widening in surprise. “Seven hells, Ser Robert?” Tyson whispered, looking around nervously. “You’ve been gone for two years. Everyone thought you were dead or lost across the Narrow Sea.”

“I’m very much alive,” Robert replied, giving a small smirk. “But I need your help. Rhaenyra. I need to speak with her.”

Tyson leaned in, lowering his voice even more. “It’s complicated, Ser Robert. You know she’s betrothed to Laenor Velaryon now, right? The court is a dangerous place, more dangerous than it’s ever been.”

Robert’s expression hardened. “I know. But I need to talk to her, Tyson. I’m not giving up on her, not after everything.”

Tyson sighed, wiping his hands on his clothes. “You’re putting yourself in a dangerous game, Ser Robert. But… if anyone can pull it off, it’s you. I’ll help.” He looked around again, making sure no one was listening. “I can get a letter to her, but it’s risky. She’s watched constantly.”

Robert nodded and handed Tyson a sealed letter. “Make sure she gets it. Tell her to meet me at our old spot—where the tunnels lead out, not far from the Blackwater Rush. She’ll know where.”

Tyson took the letter and pocketed it. “I’ll do what I can. But be careful, Ser Robert. The Velaryons have their eyes everywhere.”

With a firm nod, Robert left the house, feeling the weight of his next move settle on his shoulders. It wasn’t going to be easy to convince Rhaenyra to defy the marriage her father had arranged for her, but he had to try. There was too much at stake.