Storm's End

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The great gates of Storm’s End stood open, lined on each side of the gatehouse by men-at-arms dressed in polished steel plate and spotless surcoats, presenting their spears as the guest of honor passed between them. Banners-- newly tailored themselves-- snapped smartly from the imposing battlements on the walls. Stags danced with dragons on the wind, the colors black and yellow and red everywhere.

More than a thousand men had been raised, dressed in good plate and mail, and stood on ceremony atop the walls and in the bailey, arranged by serjeants in neat lines and told how to properly salute the Prince’s party. A number of Targaryen men, those who had made the journey with Aenar Targaryen and Ser Gyles Morrigen, stood on ceremony as well. The inner bailey, dominated by the great stone tower of Storm’s End, was particularly quiet until the sound of the coming royal party began to echo about the walls.

Lord Lyonel Baratheon stood at the center, dressed in a quilted leather gambeson marked on the breast by his house’s stag. His wife, Lady Melissa Arryn, wore a sky-blue dress. Their sons-- Robert, Edric, and Raymont-- all dressed in their own interpretation of their best wear. Robert, like his father, wore leathers. Edric dressed in a tunic of gold-and-black, his house’s colors. Raymont, as was his wont, wore a gold silken shirt and black trouser pants.

The assembled household stood in silence as the Targaryen party passed into the bailey, visibly displaying the muck of battle in many cases. His own uncle, Ser Royce, rode among the whitecloaks and their Prince-- and Ser Alyn Buckler with them. At the rear of the Targaryen column rode his own men, likewise looking like they had fought a battle.

Good, Lyonel had thought. Royce made it before the Prince did, or at the same time.

Having the Crown Prince fight these raiders on his own would’ve been an embarrassment, making the new Hand of the King look incompetent. At least it seemed they fought together-- the best outcome, second only to the heads of the bandits greeting the Crown Prince on pikes along the Kingsroad.

As Maekar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, arrived before the Lord of Storm’s End, the Baratheon family knelt alongside their household guard and the men assembled in the bailey. “Storm’s End welcomes you, my Prince,” Lord Lyonel called, looking up at his guest.