The Princesses War

I own nothing but my OC's

AN: I'm sorry this one is late but I have been pretty damn sick lately, seriously, when most people have a cold for a few days I get the whole lot in one day and I'm left drained for days after it. Anyway, here's the latest chapter and I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Ten

Triumph and Regret

Sam stood alone on the battlefield, in every direction he looked he saw corpses. There was a strange pattern to where the dead had fallen, some in lines, others in clusters and others scattered everywhere, alone in their eternal sleep. The sky was bright and clear, without a single cloud in sight, and the evening sun casted everything with a golden glow yet, even now, the battlefield was still dark, the grass churned up revealing the black soil beneath it. To his left was a Farosi supply wagon, its crates of marching bread and corned beef thrown off and now occupied by five dead Farosi soldiers, one of them was a Lieutenant the same age as Sam, even in death he still held his sword, coated crimson with blood. Around it were fifteen dead Westerosi, wearing the colours of House Tarly, a monument to Farosi firepower. Wounded men were still being carried away on bloodied sheets or even just being dragged along the ground.

Three days earlier he, and the rest of King Renly's army, had arrived at that place, near the town and keep of Egmot to fight their great battle against the Farosi. The soldiers in their army, not really an army but a large force of a thousand knights, three thousand men at arms and a thousand bowmen as well as two hundred men armed with looted Farosi rifles, camped outside of the town while Renly, Loras and Sam, as well as the other senior leaders of the army, rode into Egmot's courtyard where Ser Romar Eges, who owned the land, came out to greet them. He was an older man but was very tough. Standing behind him was someone Sam was glad to see, Ser Robel Eges, Ser Romar's son and a friend of Sam's. Robel was a few years older than Sam and for a while had been fostered at Horn Hill before receiving his knighthood. After they climbed off their horses and King Renly exchanged the usual pleasantries with Ser Romar before entering the castle to discuss the plans for the coming battle but Sam and Robel hang at the back of the group.

'I thought the Farosi would have made you a bit thinner at least,' he said jokingly, unlike his father's cruel comments about it.

'And I'd have thought your father would have made you a bit smarter,' he joked back.

'So, what have you been doing while I've been forced to stay here and my brother's actually been fighting.'

'We've spent over a week attacking the Farosi patrols. They've been moving from village to village confiscating weapons so we did the same.'

'You attacked their patrols?'

'I didn't. His Grace did most of the fighting, I've just been an advisor.'

'So you've been attacking them, why have you come here?'

'Eventually the Farosi realised what we were doing and they've concentrated all of their troops in one place to come after us.'

'And we're going to fight them here?'

'That's the plan,' he answered, not thinking about how many would soon be dead.

'Fantastic!'

'No it isn't,' he said, lowering his voice slightly so the rest of the group wouldn't hear them. 'I told his Grace not to fight a pitched battle, to ambush them on the march.'

'Then why are we going to fight them properly?' he was clearly confused.

'We aren't but one of our bowmen came from here and he said that it's the perfect place for a large ambush.'

'How long left?'

'A few days, the Farosi army moves slowly.'

'And then we'll crush them!' Renly shouted form his position at the head of the group as they entered Ser Romar's solar where a map of the Eges's lands were displayed. By the table were two men already, a Maester who appeared to be in his early forties and an old man in his early seventies with a sword at his waist.

'Maester Romlar,' Ser Romar introduced him, 'and my Master at Arms, Ser Stannis Orbert.'

Both bowed to King Renly who instantly began looking at the map while everyone else took up positions around the map where they could see what was going on.

'The Farosi are predictable,' Renly began. 'Their camps we raided were all set up in the same way and Tarly has told us that their larger camps will all be set up the same way. This means that they need a lot of space to set up a camp with over three thousand men in it, and there is only one place where they can do that on these lands.'

'Torin's Field,' said Ser Stannis.

'Exactly,' he replied and pointed at the large field on the map.

Sam looked at it and remembered when they went past it to get to the castle, he had been the one to tell Renly that it is the sort of place the Farosi would set up camp. The field was grass, used for grazing sheep, and surrounded on all but one sides by woods too thick for troops to move through. On the one side it wasn't there was a road and past it boggy ground impossible for an army to attack over. It was a perfect place to defend, impossible to be ambushed at.

'Now, the Farosi soldiers will not expect an attack in a place like that, so we'll attack them there.'

'How?' asked Robel.

'Mind your tongue boy,' Ser Romar told him before looked back at Renly.

'Are there any poachers in the area?'

'We have two in the cells now,' Ser Stannis answered him.

'And do they know those woods well?'

'Yes.'

'All woods have paths in them and these poachers will know them,' Ser Loras added. 'The poachers will be offered freedom in exchange for leading our men alone the paths.'

'May I speak?' offered Robel.

'If you have something good to say,' was Renly's response.

'I grew up playing in the woods there, I know some ways through myself.'

'Then you can help lead us through,' Renly answered with a nod. 'Anyway, as for the bogs, a whole army cannot attack over them I noticed that there were islands of dry ground in it.'

'The frog hunters amongst the small folk use them,' Ser Romar explained.

'We'll position our riflemen and bowmen on those islands. On the dawn after they arrive we will attack the Farosi camp through the woods on foot. Our cavalry won't be able to attack thanks to the terrain but with surprise our infantry can overwhelm them, strike before they can form firing lines and we'll take away the advantage of their rifles. If the try to escape through the bogs our riflemen and bowmen will shoot them as they come.'

'It's a risk,' Sam reminded him. 'I'd prefer to take them on the march.'

'No,' Renly said again. 'If we attack at dawn they will not be ready to fight. They will still be breaking their fast, they will be waking up, they won't be ready to fight.'

'Won't they place guards around their camp?' asked one of the commanders.

Yes but not many,' Sam answered. 'The Farosi would never take a risk like marching thousands of men through the woods and they'd not expect anyone else to try it. All we need to worry about are a few lookouts ordered to stop scouts. If we bring our best bowmen through the woods they could easily handle them.'

'Then that's what we'll do,' Renly finished. 'The Farosi will arrive in three days and we have a lot of work to do.

For the next three days they did work, making it look like they were going to defend a hill close by so they prepared it with stakes and pits to defend against infantry and cavalry attacks. As they worked Sam did notice riders dressed in blue in the distance, every now and again there was a glint, the obvious sign of binoculars. Farosi scouts, it was a good wager that they knew what was happening, Sam only hoped they would fall for it.

At last the outriding Heavy Horsemen of the Farosi army arrived and, as they predicted, made their camp on Torin's Field. That evening, as the sun began to set, Sam put on a dark wool cloak and checked his revolver as he made his way towards the "Bog Boys" as they had been nicknamed, the riflemen and bowmen who would take position in the bog. Sam had been selected to lead them and he intended on doing his job well, when he was stopped by Robel, dressed in a coat of plates and some lighter plate armour.

'I'll see you when this is done,' he told Sam.

'I hope we make it.'

'So do I. Do you think we have a chance at winning?'

'If the plan goes well then yes. If it doesn't,' he stopped and said quietly, 'we're fucked.'

'So you didn't persuade the King to not lead the attack himself?'

'No I didn't. He says the only place a king should be is at the front where the fighting is thickest,' Sam knew he rolled his eyes but he didn't care.

'Good luck,' Robel said and Sam knew that this was it, the next time they'd see each other would be after the battle.

When dawn at last arrived, after a night of rowing through the bog with muffled oars, using the boats the frog hunters themselves used, and they took up positions on the islands of dry ground but many of them were flooded in the night. Sam's Farosi boots though were waterproof but most of his fellow soldiers weren't as lucky, their feet were soaked in the night and Sam had to make sure that the gun powder was kept dry. In truth he was not impressed by the abilities of his riflemen, they had next to no training, each of them had only fired a single shot, at best he guessed they would probably get off one round a minute, maybe two if they were very fast, and they ammunition was limited. His bowmen were much better, they could let off many more arrows than even a well trained rifleman could fire bullets.

As Sam and his men silently tried to keep dry in the bog, he often cast an envious eye towards the fires burning in the Farosi camp. He knew that the Farosi troops, dressed in warm clothes on dry ground were sitting around those fires eating marching bread and corned beef with dried fruit, expecting to fight a pitched battle in the morning against an inferior enemy. He truly pitied them, they had no idea that they were being watched.

When the dawn came it was a crisp, clear morning and Sam hated it, he had been hoping for some fog to keep them hidden for longer. At this rate all it would take would be a look through binoculars and they would be revealed. Sam however pulled out his own and looked out across the Farosi camp, a field of white canvas tents with Farosi flags flapping in the occasional gusts of wind. The soldiers, most of them not wearing their blue jackets and jerkins, instead in their grey undershirts, as they ate their breakfast.

'Milord,' one of the riflemen, a young lad of seventeen, said to him, 'is the king ready?'

'I hope so.'

'How can we tell?'

'If he attacks then we'll know,' he answered.

He scanned across the treeline beyond the camp looking for something, no, looking for anything that suggested that Renly and his men were in place but the trees were so thick that they made a solid wall of green. As he looked over them he saw a branch move in the wind, wait, it wasn't a branch. A man emerged from the treeline, a glint of yellow about his head and Sam knew it was Renly in his battle crown.

'I see him,' he told his men close by and excited glances were shared between them all.

As he watched he also saw others emerge from the trees at a slow walk, all of them with weapons drawn.

'Charge,' Sam muttered under his breath.

Almost the same second he said it a horn was blown in the trees and a roar went up as the trees opened and unleashed a flood as thousands of Westerosi soldiers, knights on foot in shining plate followed by levies in mail and gambesons raced towards the Farosi camp. Sam pulled up the war horn on his belt and gave it a blow, ordering his men to stand up at last and prepare to fight.

With his binoculars at his eyes he watched as the Farosi abandoned their food and went to grab their rifles. Gunshots went off in the camp and soon the noise became one massive sound of blades clashing and guns firing but above it all were the screams of men dying.

'Milord,' someone said and Sam looked towards the closest part of the camp where he saw wounded and panicked Farosi, many of them still holding their rifles, trying to escape the carnage.

'All soldiers!' Sam shouted as loud as he could, remembering to bring the shout from his chest. 'Fire at will!'

He drew his own revolver and aimed at one of the Farosi as all his men fired around him. Arrows filled the air and struck the enemy down, pinning them to the ground while the rifles tore up the ground around the enemy or struck the soldiers themselves.

'Mark your targets before you fire!' Sam ordered as he walked behind the men on his island.

'I got one!' shouted a soldier.

'Well done. Keep firing!'

Sam pulled the trigger at a Farosi soldier and saw the man go down, he didn't think about that, he just kept his mind on the fight. Thanks to the tents he couldn't see how the battle was going but if the number of men trying to escape was anything to go by, Renly was fighting well, driving straight through the Farosi camp. Suddenly the trickle of Farosi became a flood as nearly a thousand of them by Sam's guess burst through the edge of the camp and started racing for the bog. Sam was about to order them to fire faster when he saw amongst them were men and women of the medical service in their number.

'Aim only at the men in blue!' he ordered the soldiers. 'Aim only at the men in blue!'

As if to make his point he aimed at a Farosi officer dressed in the breast plate and plumed helmet of the Heavy Horse struggling through the bog and fired, striking the man in the neck and sending him into a deep pool of foul, muddy water. So many of the enemy were running into the bog that a great crowd formed at the edge, trying to push forwards but the mass of them made them one giant moving target.

'FIRE ONLY AT THE MEN IN BLUE!' he repeated when he saw a nurse fall with an arrow in her neck.

Suddenly there was a change in the crowd as Renly's forces emerged from the camp and prepared to charge while another horn was blown, Sam knew what it meant.

'Cease fire!' he ordered and around him his men and then the others began to stop shooting as the Farosi survivors stopped moving, stuck at the edge of the bog, surrounded.

'Farosi!' a great voice echoed around the battlefield, it was Renly. 'You fought well! Now lay down your arms with honour!'

For a few seconds they did nothing, none of them seemed to know what to do, but then, someone dropped his rifle and raised his arms in the air to surrender. As soon as he did everyone else did, some faster than others, but in under a minute, the survivors of the battle were all heading towards King Renly's forces who began to cheer at their victory.

Sam was silent as about him men cheered, and he remained silent for many hours as he walked through the camp, the dead and the dying all about him. He walked past an ammunition wagon where the corpse of a quarter master in a green uniform stained black by the spear in his chest laid as still as a fallen tree. Renly's soldiers were removing the boxes of cartridges from the wagon, ignoring the dead man. He then saw a few men collecting rifles from the corpses as a dozen members of the Farosi Heavy Horse who had been taken prisoner, still wearing their steel breast plates and plumed helmets, were marched past him under guard. The next part of the chaos he found was a wooden carriage, small and agile with a folding out table at the back. Empty stretchers covered the carriage and on the fold out table was the corpse of a young woman, her light blue dress turning crimson from the large slash wound which had town her dress and white apron, as well as her chest open. Her lifeless eyes were almost longingly looking up at the sky. Next to her, on the ground and barely alive, was a Surgeon wearing a white uniform, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder while another nurse, wearing the same uniform as her dead comrade on the fold out table, tried to keep him comfortable.

'Don't worry Mister Coon,' she whispered to him and held a water canteen to his lips. 'Just keep looking at me.'

'I can't see anything,' he said back and then his head slumped forwards, the nurse shook her head and stood up, turning towards Sam before looking at him in disgust and striding towards a wounded man close by wearing a Farosi uniform, a leather bag in her hand.

Sam walked away from her as well, he didn't want to argue with a Farosi nurse who was angry at anything that looked Westerosi. A gunshot rang out and Sam spun around seeing a wounded Farosi infantryman, laying on the ground and pointing a smoking rifle at a Westerosi levy who was staggering backwards. Seconds later a knight rushed to the dying man and brought a hammer down onto his head.

'I stopped him!' the knight gladly declared and held his hammer aloft. 'I killed the bastard!'

Sam felt even worse at the sight of the soldier's brains being splattered everywhere. This was all because of him. This whole battle was his idea, his plan and all these men were dead and he had helped to kill them. Again he saw more people helping the wounded, Maester Romlar was one of them and next to him was a Farosi Surgeon, trying to stop a knight in fine armour from dying.

'If we don't stop the bleeding we'll loose him,' said the Surgeon.

'Try this,' Romlar said and poured a liquid from a vial into the knights mouth.

'What is that?'

'It thickens the blood, if it doesn't stop the bleeding, nothing will.'

'Surgeon!' a nurse shouted, staggering towards him with a Farosi officer, still clutching a torn Farosi flag in his shaky hands, limping with her. 'This man was stabbed through the arm. What do I do?'

The Surgeon got up and inspected the wound for a few moments before looking at the nurse.

'Clean the wound and remove any foreign objects then stitch him up.'

'Yes sir.'

The Surgeon then looked at Sam with anger.

'Either help or clear off you barbarian!' he snapped.

Sam of course walked away, hoping that perhaps it would all be over soon.

'SAM!' a few moments later came the shout and a heavy arm wrapped around Sam's shoulders.

He looked and sighed with relief when he saw it was Robel, a deep cut went across his eye brow but he looked fine.

'You made it,' he said with relief.

'I've been looking for you,' was his response. 'I killed three of them. Three, one was an officer and I struck him down in single combat.'

'Well done,' Sam told him, not feeling joy at the death of another. For all he knew, Sam might have trained with that officer.

'Anyway, His Grace wants to see you.'

'What for?'

'To congratulate you. If you hadn't helped to plan this then we'd not have won.'

Sam didn't say anything, he just began walking in the direction that Robel had pointed until they past a line of Farosi bodies laying on the ground, the hats placed over their faces and their hands, when they still had them, on their chests. Standing by them was a young woman in blue robes holding a brass bowl of water and casting drops over the bodies.

'With honour you lived,' she sadly said to them. 'With courage you died. Now embark on the final voyage to the True Queen's halls.'

'What's she talking about?' asked Robel.

'She's a priestess of the True Queen. She's doing the Farosi funeral rights.'

Sam stopped for a moment and removed his hat before saluting the dead men with respect. They then continued to walk towards Renly who was giving orders over the care of the wounded and the burial of the dead. As soon as he saw Sam, the king stopped and quickly walked over to him with open arms.

'Tarly! I was wondering where you went. Where have you been anyway?'

'I was just walking.'

'Well you can stop walking and start celebrating. All the other leaders of our army will be having a feast at the castle tonight and I expect to see you there.'

'Of course Your Grace.'

The look on Renly's face turned from exhilaration to concern.

'Come with me.'

The two walked a short distance away from everyone else so they couldn't be overheard and then Renly spoke.

'This is your first battle isn't it?'

'It is.'

'Mine too. Look, if you're feeling shame over this don't. We're not fighting to just keep the Lannister's away from the throne. We're fighting to save Westeros from invasion.'

'I know we are.'

'Then don't forget, you used to wear their uniform but now you fight for me. I know you can do this.'

'I can fight against the Farosi, Your Grace, but don't forget that I never wanted to take lives. I'm only doing this so my house won't lose everything.'

'And I respect you for that. I know you don't like these people dying, I know you don't want to lead the fight, but we have no choice. I know you have courage, I know you can fight.'

'And I will.'

'In that case make sure none of the men see you so miserable. They need their leaders to be confident or they will lose all their courage.'

'I know, that's why I haven't been wondering around weeping. I just had to see the aftermath.'

'Your Grace,' Ser Eges shouted over to him, 'we've found the Farosi commander.'

'Good,' Renly responded, a confident smile across his face. 'Bring him to me,' he then turned to face Sam. 'Watch.'

A moment later a pair of knights marched towards Renly, between them, wearing a uniform which was once smart but now smeared with mud and blood, was a tall, well built Farosi officer with a proud moustache and grey hair, his heavy officers' sword at his waist.

'You are?' Renly asked him.

'Brigadier Horack Burnson of His Majesties 8th Battle Corps. I assume I am speaking with Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storms End.'

'King of Westeros,' he corrected him. 'I hope you are willing to surrender, Brigadier. Your men fought well, you should be proud of them.'

'I am proud of every single one of them. They fought well, they fought bravely, and they fought to kill you. That is why I am proud of them.'

'You're a bold man,' Renly laughed. 'Still, don't you know which of us has won here?'

'I know which of us will win the war. Farsos will crush you.'

'Your army was crushed here today.'

'It doesn't matter. We have more, we can replace the men killed here today. Can you say the same?'

'I have almost all of Westeros behind me.'

'Really? I doubt it will last. I look at your army and I see conscripts, men pulled from their fields to fight, mercenaries who will abandon you when the going gets tough and knights so green I'm surprised they're not falling from trees. I look at the armies of Farsos and I see soldiers, unbroken ranks of blue who know who and what they fight for.'

'We can argue this for days, Brigadier. I ask that you surrender yourself now.'

'I want answers first.'

'Answers? Very well, you've earned that much.'

'Why do you have scum in your army?'

'Scum?'

'Do you want to know where I have been since the battle ended? I have been with the nurses of my army, young women who only wanted to come here and save lives. They were here to save lives, they had orders that after a battle they were to save the lives of anyone who was wounded even if they were not our own soldiers. If you had been wounded they would have nursed you back to health. Do you know what happened to them? Your men attacked them, they beat them, and they raped them! I want those men found and I want them hanged for what they did!'

Sam looked at the expression on Renly's face, it was confident but there was now a coldness to it.

'You're asking me to find a small number of men. I don't know if it can be done.'

'Don't you care?' Burnson growled at Renly. 'You're no king, you're no lord even. You're a thug who dances around in a crown! The leader of an army of thugs who call themselves lords! You people claim innocence, you claim that you have the right to fight us. You Westerosi, you deserve to be conquered! It's all you're good for, to be little more than ants beneath the boot of King Lukon! No, I refuse to surrender to you! I'd rather die but I will live only to see you and everyone who fight for you dragged to Faros, be forced to beg for mercy before the Emerald Throne and then be hanged!'

'I won't kill you,' Renly told Burnson, a slight shake in his voice from the tirade of verbal abuse. 'You'll be held a captive until the end of the war at Highgarden.'

'So be it. I look forward to your trial, the fate of all war ciminals.'

He was taken away and Renly's look was one of anger but some shame. He looked to one of his aides, Lord Alester Florent.

'I want the rapers found and their cocks cut off.'

'Yes, Your Grace.'

Renly then turned to Sam again and a smile crossed the kings face.

'You may not like it Tarly, but I owe today to you. Tonight you will go before a Septon, in the morning you will be a knight.'

That took Sam aback, the words not meaning anything at first, but he slowly came to realise what it meant.

'Thank you,' he muttered.

'No, thank you for this victory.'

Renly then walked to a nearby Farosi soldier, dead, but still clutching his rifle with a bloodied bayonet. The King grabbed the rifle and held it up in the air, a sign of victory.

'This won't bring victory,' Sam muttered to himself. 'It will just bring vengeance.'

AN: And victory to King Renly. A Farosi force is crushed in a deadly ambush and the Westerosi have captured some three thousand rifles. Sam is granted his baptism in blood while the daughters of the True Queen ensure that the fallen make their final voyage.

So, this chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you loved reading it. Since Renly is smart enough to know that fighting the Farosi in a regular pitched battle is difficult at best he has had to get creative with how he will win this war which I tried to demonstrate here.

Return next time for an update in King's Landing. Please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter, I adore reading feedback.

Review Response:

Stannis the Mann: Yeah I liked House Forrester and I felt that it was the smartest thing for Arya to do, claiming to be a member of that house. Thanks for your review and I hope you liked this one. Have agreat day.