My brother, Robert Baratheon had raised the banners of Storm’s End, our ancestral castle, against the Mad King, Aerys. Jon Arryn of the Vale and Eddard Stark of the north stood with him, and Hoster Tully of the Riverlands would join. But their lands were far from ours, and separated by the combined strength of the west, the Reach, and King’s Landing itself. Even Robert’s own lords were against him. It was the hardest choice I’ve ever made. My brother or my king. Blood or honor. Aerys ruled by right of all the lords in Westeros. Everyone knew the price of defiance, but there are deeper, older laws. The younger brothers bows before the elder. I followed Robert. Early in the war, Mace Tyrell’s indecisive victory at Ashford cut Robert off from Storm’s End. Instead of pursuing Robert and risking his record, Mace Tyrell turned east and laid siege to our home. His vast army and navy encircled us and prevented any resupply by land or sea. If a wagon tried to reach us, it was burnt. If a ship tried to land, it was sunk. We were locked in Storm’s End to starve, but Robert commanded me to hold the castle no matter the cost. He could ill afford to lose his ancient seat which had never fallen. While Robert smashed Rhagar on the Trident, my men ate the dogs, because the horses had already been devoured. While the Lannisters sacked King’s Landing, we ate the rats. If the smuggler Davos had not slipped through the Tyrell blockade with his onions, we’d have eaten our own dead. But I held the castle until Lord Eddard remembered us and marched to lift the siege. The Tyrells didn’t even put up a fight. And Robert threw a feast to celebrate Lord Eddard’s victory. I was sent to the royal island stronghold of Dragonstone to deal with Viserys and Daenerys, the last surviving Targaryen children. Before I arrived, however, they escaped across the narrow sea. Robert was furious. He stripped me of Storm’s End and gave it to that prancing fool, Renly, my younger brother. I could keep Dragonstone. Now, Robert is dead and a bastard pretender soils my throne while the realm fills with schemers and traitors. But the rightful king is coming for them all. And I will not stop until I have scoured this land clean of abomination. The Baratheons say, “Ours is the fury.” I will show them fury burns.