https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5D3crqpClPY&ab\_channel=50CentVEVO
Elmo Tully was baptized in the blood of a royal man-at-arms; dripping red with gore, wild-eyed, and terrified, Elmo drew his child-sized sword and leaped from his feet to defend his master. Prince Maegor, bow in hand, was already nocking his first arrow and taking aim at the crossbowman shooting in their direction. Elmo took his place at the Prince’s side, sword visibly trembling in his hands, terror mingling with determination in his eyes, and looked around for Ernie.

Erwin was in the middle of eating a succulent chicken leg, half the meat in chewing and sipping some juice before splurting it out, death and screams occurring. The young pup was certain Tytos had already gotten up, looking to slay a grown man. Make a name for himself. Erwin turned his neck as he got up in slow motion. Elmo was rushing to Maegor. The just thirteen-year-old boy was rushing to protect a prince. His legs hit the ground running after his younger friend. “Shit!’ He yelled, hopping a table, the young boy leaping onto the ground. He drew his own sword, finding a table. “Elmo. Down with me.” He called glancing at some steps. “Maegor can hit any shot he wants to. If we die, we die in blood and glory.” Erwin’s free hand clasped Elmo's small arm, gripping the young boy. “Blood and Glory! May the warrior guide us.” Erwin started to cackle as he waited for action. He would make men scream.

Erwin was in a flurry. In an instant, he had left Elmo’s side. He saw an opening to take on the traitorous Westerner. Tytos was trying to fumble his sword out of his sheathe, but Erwin’s older brother was more concerned standing by Tywin and Joanna Lannister. Aye, Tytos would be a Lannister dog until his death. Erwin would be the same, yet he held much love for Maegor Targaryen. Aerys had even been….pleasurable. Standing up for him, against his older brother. For as much of a prick tytos had been, Erwin loved him. And he knew that Tytos loved him. Hugo, well he loved them in a sickening way. Erwin still had the scars on his back, he could feel that whip lashing into his skin. Elmo had asked for him. Had called for him. And he left that little boy all alone near Maegor. Maegor would protect him though, he was sure of it. What reason would Maegor have to not let him die? Erwin…Erwin was fine dying. He was the second son of a landed lord. He would vanish into the wind. There wouldn’t be a second thought of him at all. But, it was what it was. The young dog couldn't change that.

He thought about all he had seen. Tytos drunkenly going up to almost half of the ladies in all of the Seven Kingdoms, asking them to dance. And they had said yes. Erwin was far too shy to attempt such a thing. It wasn't in his blood to be confident. He was fine working out, fighting, and enjoying a laugh with Elmo and the other squires. Erwin was a runt compared to Tytos. Two inches shorter, and a lot leaner than his brother. He saw a sigil… signaling to the West. house Turnberry…truly they were turncloaks it seemed. Erwin hadn’t even been able to bound three steps from Elmo and Maegor before the grown man, the Turnberry used the flat of his blade to smack Erwin in his right temple. The young Clegane fell to one knee, ringing continuing in his ear. This was it. He would die right here, with no legacy at all, just a foolish thirteen-year-old boy. He swung his sword, striking the older man's breastplate. He couldn’t have been older than thirty…Erwin knew he would be taking his last breath in a few moments. He’d die for these men though, they had taken him from nothing. Gave him the best life Erwin could have asked for, and treated him like family. Erwin would gouge the eyes out of this man if he had the chance. His strike into Turnberrys chest plate surprised the older man. “I’ll kill you…then I’ll fuck your mother.” Turnberry flashed a grim smile at Erwin, the young boy showing nothing but fear and determination against the older man. He was scared, and he felt a warm trickle down his pants. He couldn’t think about that now.

Erwin’s thinking had gotten him carried away, he didn't even see it coming. It was a fist. The Turnberry didn't even find Erwin important enough to use his sword. His face stung, a light red on the side of his left face. It stung, but Erwin had already pissed his pants, this was his chance for survival. He just had to look at the man like his famous training dummy, the ones his fellow squires had made japes against him. Sure, Erwin got up early in the morning to train unlike his other highborn squires, but they hadn't found themselves in a predicament like this. Elmo was shaking in his boots, no doubt even more scared as he watched Erwin get his ass beat by an armored man either. Wasn’t a good sight for any man to watch but they were too preoccupied by the ensuing chaos, protecting their own family members.

Erwin stood up as fast as possible, swinging his sword at the man's ribcage praying to the warrior that he could get out of this with a quick death. It would happen no doubt, all he needed to do was just die with honor and strength. He gripped his sword strongly, his finger curling tightly around the grip of his sword. He could do this! He would die and make his father proud. His brother would cry at the funeral, but he would be a Clegane until the end.

Erwin tried to deflect the man's sword, barely grazing it away, making the sound of steel meeting steel. All he could feel was fear, certain death meeting him soon. He swung back with a strike to the foot, making the grown man growl, hitting him hard on his feet, no doubt a worse pain than stubbing your toe.

Erwin’s biggest mistake became an occurrence as he tried to sidestep the big man's slash. POP…something in his right knee felt off, it strung, it burned, hell…he could barely move it. He was immobile. If he moved it he would fall over. He was stuck as if he was sinking into quicksand.

Turnberry lowered his shoulder, smashing the five-foot-five boy to the ground. Erwin felt himself flying through the sky, already his ass meeting the hard ground of the feast hall's floor. Oh, this was not good. Erwin felt the back of his head smash into oak, or redwood, or some shit... A table? A chair? Erwin had no time to figure it out, the Turnberry had straddled Erwin by the neck. His large fist started to curl around the boy's frail neck. Nobody would be also to save little Erwin. His vision was becoming darker, and he couldn't breathe. He was going to die in the worst way possible, grasping for nonexistent air.

His memories and his life started to flash forward. The vague image of his mother, he could barely remember her. His father preached about their loyalty to the Lannisters and then proceeded to whip Erwin for an hour, stopping when the boy couldn’t cry anymore. Until he gasped for tears that were non-existent. He was thrown into a kennel. Forced to go on all fours, being served steak in a bowl, and drinking water out of a small silver bowl. He would see Tytos fighting back anger as they stayed in those kennels for an excruciating week. Tytos had always talked gruffly to Erwin, and harshly. Tytos was a bully, but he would push anybody into the dirt that called Erwin weak or worthless. He loved Erwin in his way...taught by their father. He had also learned he had a real knack for poetry, a way for words. Tytos had signed him up as a jape, but he was thankful for the experience. He had beaten Ormund Yornwood in the melee, proving his worth as a Clegane.

Erwin regained the smallest burst of energy, repeatedly slamming his right fist into Turnberrys kidney, his right leg kneeing the huge man in the balls. He had gotten strong enough for the man to yell in pain and anger. In a flash, Erwin had flipped the man over, smashing his fists into the man's face. “Fuck you! FUCK YOU!” Erwin repeated those words at the height of his voice, slamming his fists into the man's face until Turnberry slipped in and out of consciousness. Erwin’s left knee felt like he was walking on a melon. It looked like it had swelled into that size as well. He didn’t have it in to kill this man, but his fists smashed into his eyes, nose, and cheekbones until he had gotten so fatigued that it was taking around three seconds to conjure up a right hook, and another four for a left hook. The guard dog had turned into a Kingsaver.

He finally rolled off of the Turnberry, facing the ceiling and taking in long deep breaths. He didn’t have it in him to stand. He took a few fluttering breaths, sighing, still listening to screams and crying from children and women.