By the Thunderous Hammer 3 (Patreon)

By the Thunderous Hammer 3 - or ‘In a world of uncertainty, the Hammer of Justice strikes Thunderously' (GoT/ASoIaF BaratheonBastard!SI)

Go in, hear what the fuck Bobby B wanted from me, get out, be happy.

That was the simplest plan ever. Which is why I had good reasons to worry it was going to get butchered on first contact. I had my hammer, the helmet still on me, so I wasn’t utterly defenseless.

The issue was that I was now deep in the Stark-Baratheon Camp so any chance of a fight with me pitted against the rest would end in a rather ugly fashion. I was tense, nervous, angry- this is where my ‘father’ was. The man my mother used to speak so highly about. The man she killed herself for.

I was still grieving for Dunk’s certain death, so I was the furthest from calm at the moment. Despite the joyous day, clouds had started to form above our heads. No rain, only a shroud of gray over the sun.

Tables were being busied by the large banquet, with knights and infantry chatting with one another; ale, wine and all sorts of alcohol being provided to those that craved it. Laughter, chuckling, happiness- the euphoria of the victory reigned supreme.

The king himself was amused by the beverage in his cup, but also by the active chatting he was having with Eddard Stark. Ned had dropped his stoic visage to show some ‘youthful shyness’ that seemed to be familiar to Robert. Still, said chatting came to an end as soon as the knight escorting me announced our presence.

Irritation, it was brief as Robert’s attention was aimed first at the ‘annoying prick’ that was the knight and then… me. Something about his posture shifted as he saw me and he…

Snorted.

“He is tinier than I had expected. Are you sure that you didn’t pick a dwarf or something, prick?”

The knight definitely was not amused by the new nickname, but he could only nod nervously.

“H-He said his name was-”

“My name is Orys, the one you asked to find, your Highness,” I said as I knelt before him. “That is indeed my name.”

“A strong name for a puny individual,” Robert pointed out, his smug attitude only irking me to no end. “Who picked it for you, your mother or father?”

“My mother, in an effort to please my father who, sadly so, can only be called a prideful boar with shiny tusks but a terrible luck in understanding love.”

“Sounds like a handful. Your mother, is she-”

“Dead, your grace, by her own hands. She saw fit to live no more when she was told by my father that it was best for them to no longer exchange mere letters.”

“...Where are you from, Orys?”

“Winterfell. I served Lord Stark’s banner as loyally as demanded,” I replied truthfully, but I couldn’t help but notice the drawn pause after my latest response.

The helmet allowed me to look up in a limited way while leaning my head to stare at the ground, and I saw Ned looking surprised and even more intrigued.

Robert nodded. “I see. And do tell, Orys, did you kill Balon Greyjoy as many say you have.”

“I did so, yes, by smashing his chest in.”

A hint of a smile played on his face, almost prideful and… I was suspecting that he was aware of my identity. But before any other words could be said, someone grumbled loudly.

“And why should the words of a little man carry truth at this point?” Someone asked, drunkenly and… I grimaced when I pinpointed the source of it to a very tall and menacing man.

The fucking Mountain. I forgot that Gregor Clegane took part in this campaign but… why should I have cared for it at this point?! I didn’t even expect to be here- to be put in a situation where the bastard could have started something.

Still, I couldn’t take the slight by turning the other cheek. Not when it was a matter of claiming something as important as slaying the leader of a hostile group before the king himself. Being ruled out as a liar was tantamount of being put in jail or, in worse situations, killed.

“And why should the king listen to the words of a known rapist, Clegane?” I asked back, the man had been approaching slowly, but now his pace had picked up.

“What did you say, you little-”

“Clegane, stand down!” Robert spoke loudly, his voice almost bellowing but the Hound approached and soon we were standing one in front of the other, with me looking up with my chin aimed upward as I glared back at Clegane’s fierce stare aimed down at me.

“Little shit.”

“Rabid mutt,” I replied dryly, the man growling for a moment.

He had his sword out, but I had my hammer tightly held by my right hand.

I felt a bit tired from all this fighting, but I felt like I had a duty now to murder this dipshit. Maybe. I heard Robert speak.

“Clegane, I will have none of that- this is a celebration, not some sort of-”

He didn’t even let the king finish so he tried to claim my head with a swing of his sword. The issue in that plan was that I was smaller, nimbler and, worst of all, not an idiot like many other troops around as I ducked and shifted back to create some distance.

“You really don’t want to do this,” I pointed out, knowing that Robert hadn’t sanctioned this duel.

“I will break you, little bastard!”

I expected someone trying to stop this, but I had a feeling that not even the king had the authority to get a group of drunk idiots to assemble and kill a monster like Gregor. So, while I wasn’t going to strike first, that right was stolen by Clegane himself, I was pretty much allowed to return all that pain back to the sender.

And this last response had me… giddy. “At least you got one damn thing right, cockhead.”

I admit that angering the Mountain doesn’t sound like a smart plan. In truth, however, this was ideal as he was an aimless wanker when put in a bad spot. While this angry dog would have been a legitimate threat for anything that lacked my speed and dexterity, to me this was a somewhat easy dodge exercise. Clegane lacked discipline in his wrath, the sword following paths that were familiar in standard swordsmanship but lacking the flexibility to stop mid-strike and redirect to either block or deflect an attack.

Due to the first two missed swings, I managed to return the favor by slamming my hammer by his feet, getting his left one with a loud and painful crunch. His armor was heavy and thick, preventing me from damaging most of the more ‘better-defended’ spots. His feet and bits of his legs were exposed and thus ‘hurtable’.

He roared in pure agony and he stammered with his next move as I shifted to the side and- got hit by a punch. The reaction time was insane as Clegane moved at a pace unusual to what he shown before. Fast enough to land a fist against my helmet. I felt the metal groan and a sharp pain erupting on the left side of my face.

I backed away, the man readying his sword. “You are dead meat.”

My left hand reached for my helmet, and I felt a section was now missing. My eyes were fine, but I felt a strange pain as adrenaline muffled most of the intense jolt my body was being electrified with. As I pulled my free palm away I saw my blood. I saw that the damage delivered was possibly bad and… I saw red.

I was already angry, but this made my bloodlust spill over as I felt downright murderous. My body was tired, but electricity pumped new life in my muscles as I felt my sight growing clearer and I saw my target.

I couldn’t exactly use visible thunder, but I could use it to boost myself for a time. It wasn’t going to last long since my muscles were sore and I never tried to go for too long but… I knew how to end it. I could see it. A single hit was all I needed, but it wasn’t just the classic ‘anime-like situation’. Oh no, I was planning to give him a good old hammering time.

The main priority was ‘momentum’ behind the strike. I arched the hand carrying the hammer as I ran towards him to pick up strength and pace as I approached. The man tried to stab me with enough speed that could have gone through without a boost, but I surprised him by sliding down on the ground.

The hammer swiftly struck his left leg, bending it backward and breaking the bone due to the strength. Surprise flashed strongly as he found himself tripping forward… only for his fall to be quickened and rendered more painful when the hammer arched upward and then struck in a clockwise turn back down, this time hitting his back.

I heard something break, his spine shattered by the attack. It wasn’t enough to kill- no, that was the next hit as I raised the hammer again and struck down once more. This time, however, as Gregor Clegane stopped moving, slain by my hammer, I felt the weapon drag me down. It took me a moment to realize that the injury I had suffered by my head had been severe enough to cause my control to falter as my body ‘froze up’ and almost tripped on itself.

Before I could have fallen down, I managed to shift the hammer, carrying some blood to the ground while trying to use it on the ground and… the rest was fuzzy. I remember people approaching me, shocked at the sight of the Mountain having been slain by a mere bannerman.

Then someone bellowed about a healer, and I felt a strong hand grasp at my shoulder as I was picked up from the ground and carried away. I couldn’t hear properly, but I recognized the armor-

Robert’s.

God-fucking-dammit!

—-------d-d-d-d—----

AN

Well, this is something! The Mountain is dead and so is Orys’ anonymity from the looks of it!