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The battle itself passed by in a blur. Prince Tybolt had somehow found himself on the beaches by the Mud Gate slaughtering all who came close to his Uncle. Men that should have been his, the long proclaimed heir of Storm’s End, fell to his sword until the horns of the Tyrell forces sounded causing the Stormlanders to retreat, and the 15-year-old dropped to his knees, the adrenaline having burned through his body, before tiredness overtook him and he fell face first into the sand.
By the time he awoke he realised his armour had been removed, and his left eye was covered with bandages. Groaning, he tried to sit upright, only to feel a delicate hand press into his chest. “No, sweetling. Stay where you are.”
“Mother.” He whispered with a croak, his throat in agony at the action. Immediately he felt a water pouch pressed to his lips and managed three gulps before he pulled away. “Mother.” He repeated with more conviction. He turned his head to the left, now seeing her sat there beside him with his uncovered eye.
“You had me worried.” She told him, and Tybolt saw her eyes were red and weepy. “Why would you do something so… so reckless? I summoned you back.”
Tybolt saw flashes. Lancel calling them to the castle, the argument with Joffrey as he refused to leave his Uncle, arguments with Ser Balon too… “Did we win?” He asked.
Cersei nodded. “We did. You did.” She told him. “Your Grandfather wishes to see you once you are able, to commend you for your bravery.”
He couldn’t help the smile that appeared. For years Tybolt had longed for his trips to the Rock, to see his Grandfather and try and impress him just enough… “My eye?” He asked.
“Will be fine.” Cersei explained. “But your wound came close… you will scar.” She stroked his head over the bandage gingerly. “My beautiful boy… scarred in protection of that mons… your uncle.” The doors opened then, and before Tybolt could say another word Cersei had been told to move back as a gaggle of Maester’s worked over him.
It was three days before he was well enough to stand before the Iron Throne and Joffrey, with Lord Tywin at his side. He would never remember the words that followed, Joffrey pronouncing him the Defender of the City and confirming his title as Lord of Storm’s End with more flowery details. The image that stuck with Tybolt until his dying day was what followed, when Lord Tywin Lannister unsheathed his sword and bid Tybolt to kneel before saying the words.
“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.”