Shutouts:
DraekonGreyCloak: Taking her maidenhead wasn't cruel. She wanted him to have it and he graciously accepted. She thought she wouldn't survive the upcoming battle and the same went for Caspian himself, so why not? And anyway, it isn't like many Westerosi noble ladies have their maidenheads intact by the time of their wedding.
Many don't really care about that or ask for proof. It's accepted that highborn ladies lose their maidenheads whilst horse riding rather than cock riding. :L
TheLlama123: Stannis the Mannis shall be making his appearance very soon my friend. Just you wait. Next chapter actually, or someone related to Stannis anyway.
FleeingReality: Thanks mate, but just so you know, Sansa isn't the final pairing. Hell, Caspian himself doesn't view himself getting married to anyone and you will soon learn why when everything is over and done with.
VivaLaMaximo: The Mannis will soon appear my friend.
Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice & Fire
Caspian
It had been only several moments after Caspian's party had entered through the River Gate did the oddly, rhythmic pounding of heavy boulders battering against King's Landing walls could be heard. Renly's catapults were the perpetrators as they flung boulder after boulder at the city walls in a bid to break them down, but each boulder could do nothing against the city walls but just hit the wall and drop to the ground on impact.
Some of the boulders hit the wall with enough force to unsettle the archers and defenders on the battlements and he had even seen a misfired shot from a catapult smash through several of the skirmishers he had sent forth from the wall.
He could only help but wince ever so slightly when he saw the aftermaths of that incident. Some of the archers bodies were bent in unnatural positions, blood oozing from every office it could find to escape and others were nothing more than a smear paste of blood and bone on the ground and boulder itself.
The prince himself was off two minds to the whole situation. On one hand, he didn't mind his uncle flinging as many giant rocks at them as he wanted. The city walls could take it and with the trebuchets themselves, they could also give back what little his uncle took from him.
But that also brought the problem that if his uncle did decide to do nothing more than batter his walls with giant rocks, this would turn from being a battle to a siege and his uncle could very well outlast them in a siege.
Renly was not the one with the 500,000 or so starving inhabitants inside his walls. He had to deal with a measly 50,000 compared to his own numbers.
"My prince," A runner dressed in the gold cloak of the city watch came up to him. Caspian could tell that this was one of the many recruits that had been conscripted into the City Watch. He didn't have the look of a soldier about him, that and the fact he looked as if he had yet to reach his eight-and-tenth name-day, "The trebuchets are ready to fire."
The prince nodded as he idly leaned on the battlements. The occasional shaking of the walls from the pounding doing nothing to unease him. He could tell that the young conscript seemed to be amazed at how at ease he was feeling about all this, "That's good." Caspian said as he glanced over in the direction of the attackers. He could see that his uncle was beginning to move his first wave of attackers and his archers were stringing their longbows, ready to flood them down with arrows, "They can fire away, but only using the boulders. The fire pots are for later."
The runner nodded his head in confirmation of the order, "My lord." He was quick to say before turning away and running off towards where the three trebuchets were located.
He saw the small stature of his uncle waddle towards him, accompanied by the giant frame of Ser Mandon a little ways behind him. Tyrion came to a stop in front of him and gave him a well-meant crooked smile, "Well look at you," He heard his uncle say over the shouting and poundings of boulders, "Aren't you just a sea of calm in this entire madness?"
Caspian had an even smile on his face as he looked down at his uncle fondly. He gave him a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders, "Grandfather did always say that panicking in battle would cause more trouble that solve. And anyway, I think I have finally got control over my nerves enough to not start running around like a headless chicken."
His uncle made his way towards a barlon and stood on a crater to look over the battlements and into the opposing army, "Like a headless chicken eh? That would truly be a sight to see." Caspian watched as his uncle ducked when a boulder was launched in their direction but only for it to reach its apex, begin its descent before smashing into the wall some way down from where they stood. Tyrion rose again with an uncomfortable look on his face, "If I do ever meet the genius who decided to build such strong, high walls, I think I a going to give them a big, fat, sloppy kiss."
Caspian allowed himself to snigger at the thought, "Then you will probably have to get in line. I think I would be rather confident in saying you won't be the only one here today with those very same thoughts."
Caspian's attention was attracted to the riverfront where he saw his archers loose of arrows onto the opposite bank. His face hardened when he saw that the first wave of soldiers was soon going to be upon them.
His uncle's first wave of soldiers seemed to be mostly compromised of levies lead by sizeable contingent of heavily armoured and armed knights and the occasional company of men-at-arms. The arrows scored many a kills on the less heavily armoured levies and the occasional knight and men-at-arms.
The ones that had been equipped with a shield were quick to bring them up high and above to protect themselves from the arrows as they made their way towards the rafts, whilst the ones that weren't so lucky enough to have been given such a thing were quick to grab any protection they could from their fallen comrades.
"Looks like the real battle is about to begin." Caspian finally said when he saw the first raft enter the waters filled with a mixed contingent of levies, men-at-arms and knights and soon afterwards, that one was also followed by another raft to make the crossing, and another, and another, and another until more than several dozen rafts carrying at least a couple of dozen or so soldiers were paddling their way across the rush. At that moment, one of the trebuchets fired off its first round and Caspian couldn't help but be satisfied when the boulder smashed straight into one of the rafts, crushing men and sending the rest into the waters of the rush. No doubt the more heavily armoured knights, men-at-arms and occasional levy finding themselves dying a watery death.
"That was satisfying to see." He heard his uncle admit. Clearly he had seen the same sight as he had seen. He noticed his uncle look around, "Where is your dear brother and sworn shield?"
Caspian was quick to reply, "Asher is serving as one of the captains of the companies that will sorting out to meet Renly's man and Joff..." He said slowly as he panned his head around before noticing his brother's distinct blonde hair, helmet at his side standing on a small crate to elevate himself above the rest. Beside him, on either side of his place of standing stood Ser Osmund and Ser Meryn, looking as knightly as they could in the famous white armour of their order, "Is right over there. Standing on that crate like the good little king I might have asked or forced him to do."
Tyrion turned his head to look at the boy king. He was quick to grasp as to the meaning of him standing on the crater, "Making him stand out to the men are you?"
"That's about the only use my brother has." Caspian replied, the shadows of boulders being flung by the trebuchets dancing over him, "The men will fight more fiercely if they see their king standing with them. They would fight even better if fought along with them, but that would more than likely result in his death more than anything else."
His uncle allowed himself to chuckle, "I take it he wasn't pleased with that?"
"Look at his face," Caspian began, motioning at him with a rude gesture of the hand, "Does he look at all pleased about being paraded around like some fancy whore?"
"I guess not."
Caspian took a look back to the river and noticed the first of the rafts was nearing the bank. He quickly pushed himself off the battlements and made his way to the other side of the walls and looked down at where the gate was located, and thus, where the first of the sortie companies stood, grim and ready.
"Ser Guyard!" He yelled down to the knight who was in command of the company. The knight looked up to his liege lord and prince, "You have my permission to go and give our Reach friends a welcoming party!"
The knight gave a nod of his head and placed upon his head his helmet. He rallied his men and the gates of the River Gate quickly swung open with a mighty groan. Caspian watched as Ser Guyard led the charge of his company of a thousand men.
Caspian had made sure that each company that went to rally out to meet his uncle's forces was composed of an even amount of experienced and disciplined soldiers, along with those who had been conscripted into the force. Of course, due to the large conscription in the City Watch, it had meant that their was more unexperienced and undisciplined soldiers than experienced and disciplined, but this had been solved by him bringing his own men from the Stormlands, but they were still an uneven mix about them.
His hoping was that with the more experience men fighting along side them, the unexperienced and undisciplined men will break less easily and that they would become bloodied in the presence of the more experienced soldiers who knew what they were doing.
We really need a standing army. Caspian thought, This whole levies thing is starting to look ridiculous. Once again, he decided to leave that thought for another day. Another day if he is still alive of course.
His uncle's forces didn't know what hit them as they took their first steps on the solid ground. They were wet and haggard from the thoroughly uncomfortable journey across the waters of the Rush and the continuous harassment by Caspian's skirmishers and archers along with some of the rafts of his uncle's being torn apart by the waters of the Rush meant that the first wave had lost a considerable number of soldiers long before they had even reached land.
Compared to the fresh and somewhat slightly eager men that had come to meet them, his uncle's forces looked like they had seen better days. Swords, spears, shields, maces, morningstars and other weaponry clashed against each other as the melee began.
The sound of steel could seemingly be heard above all the noise the rush was making as steel clashed against steel and sparks flew from the occasional clash.
From behind the sortie lines, his archers equipped with their longbows continued to harass his uncles forces that were still making their way across the Rush or the forces themselves that were still on the opposite bank and had yet to cross over.
Caspian had even noted of the dozen or so catapults his uncle had brought with him, four of them were now nothing more than junks of crushed wood. It seemed his three trebuchets had been able to land some rather prized kills. Now all they had to do was destroy the other catapults and he would be able to have one less worry to worry about.
A warhorn blew from his uncle's side of the Rush and another wave of soldiers stepped forward making their way towards the bank. Caspian saw them march up in a calm fashion and didn't know whether to grimace or jump in joy.
He wanted to grimace because this new wave was clearly larger in number than the first and jump in joy because it spotted more knights and men-at-arms. He knew he didn't have to worry about many of them as they would most likely fall to the preys and whims of the Rush itself when it came to crossing it, And the occasional trebuchet. He mused when he saw a boulder crash into the second waves line and roll over quite the number of soldiers, Still not enough.
He quickly signalled for one of the gold cloaks to go to the Three Whores and order one of them to start firing the fire pots and add more elevation to it. He planned to burn his uncle's forces out from within their rallying point of the forest if he could.
Caspian was quick to note that the last of the first wave had either been slain or was trying to make a quick retreat back to their own side. Guyard was already rallying his men to return to the River Gate and rest. He turned on his heel to face his uncle, "You have the command here uncle."
Tyrion blinked in bewilderment before looking up at him, "What will you be doing?"
Caspian walked past him as he grabbed his helmet, "Going to make sure that my family keeps their heads upon their necks." He ran down the stairs towards the next sortie company that stood at the ready for their own turn to go and meet the invaders, "Lancel!" He shouted at his first cousin who was also one of the captains of a company himself, having agreed to give him a company of his own.
Lancel stood at attention ramrod straight when he heard his name being called out, "My prince?"
"Get your men ready," Caspian said as he placed his helmet onto his head, "We are sortieing out."
Lancel looked nervous. Caspian could see it, but his kinsman nodded nonetheless, "Very well." He turned quickly and made for his own men.
Caspian continued walking before coming to a stop in front of Asher. His sworn sword looked up at him in amusement, "Two companies? Thing's are that dire already?"
"Not really." The prince replied with a shake of the head, "I don't think a single company would have been able to handle the number of men now coming at us."
Asher rose gingerly from his seat, "Alright then," He looked back at his own men and called them forth, "You heard the prince, let's go gut ourselves some Reachmen." The man cheered as they made their way towards the gate, maybe at an attempt to gain some last minute courage or another thing was of no consequence to Caspian.
All he cared about at the moment was if they could fight.
"Caspian!"
Despite the volume and cheers of the odd two thousand men waiting for the first sortie party to return, Caspian was still able to hear the boyish shout of his brother.
He turned his head and saw Joffrey coming at him, his eyes lively and all smiles. His armour shining gold and red, holding his lion helm at his hip as he stride towards him. As always, behind him came Ser Meryn and Ser Osmund, "Joff," He greeted slowly, trying to hide the annoyance he felt at his brother, "What are you doing? I gave you an important job." How difficult was it to just stand on a crate and look important. It shouldn't have been that hard.
His brother allowed himself to scoff derisively, "Don't think I know what you are planning?"
Now Caspian was puzzled, "What are you talking about Joff? What exactly am I planning?" He heard a plan and had been indeed planning something, but he would be damned if someone like Joffrey had been able to figure it out.
"Whilst I stand over there on that crate like some sort of decorated whore," His brother was quick to say, traces of anger in his voice, no doubt from being treat as such, "You plan to steal all the glory from this battle."
"There is no glory in battle, brother." Caspian said. It was the truth. There was nothing about battle or war in general that brought forth any sort of glory. He never understood where that thinking ever came from. He had learned that lesson early on. So you killed someone famous or someone with a lick of renown, it didn't matter in the long run. All you would have done was paint a big and large target onto your own back for the next person in search of renown and glory.
"You would like that wouldn't you?" The king said, a sneer forming on those pouty lips of his, "No matter, I won't allow you take this away from me. I shall be leading the next sortie and I will show you how this battle is truly won."
Caspian could only give him a look before he laughed. Not a chuckle, but a good honest laugh that threatened to stop him breathing.
His brother's face started turning red with anger, "What are you laughing about?"
Caspian was able to control himself some before replying, "You." He answered to the question, "I am laughing at you. No offence brother, you might tell yourself that you are our father's son. That you are some great warrior or somewhere along them lines, but you aren't." He lifted up his visor and gave his brother a thin smile, "I am our father's son." He stressed, "Not you. Me. For crying out loud, a girl of eleven years was able to disarm you back at the ruby ford. Don't think I forgot about that. If Arya could do that, what do you think fully grown men wanting to kill you would do?"
He turned and began to walk away, "For our mother's sake Joff, just go back to that crate, stand there and look kingly. No-one will accuse you of being a craven if you do." He gave him a wave, "And anyway, it's common knowledge that I am the one in charge of this little theater here. So as long as you are concerned, for the duration of this battle, I am the king and you are the prince. Ser Meryn, Ser Osmund, please return my brother to his royal crate."
He could hear the cries of, "Yes, Your Grace." From the two kingsguard knights as he walked away.
Caspian couldn't help but think that his brother would be fuming at the knowledge that his kingsguard took orders from him, instead of himself. He could swear he was already hearing his brother curse and rant to them about how he could make his own way back.
XxX
Sansa
The torches shimmered brightly within their hammered sconces within the Queen's Ballroom, giving a silvery light. Still though, there was still darkness within the walls, Sansa could see it within those pale eyes of Ser Ilyn as he clutched that greatsword of his.
At least their was a certain relief to it that it wasn't her father's sword that the mute man held anymore. The Imp had seen fit to send her father's sword, and in effect, her House's sword back to her brother. Caspian had explained it to her as a way for his uncle do his best in staving off a Northern and Riverlander attack on King's Landing when they already had to deal with the threat of Renly and the Reachmen.
She wondered how her brother would feel holding the sword that had been responsible in taking their father's head. It was folly to think such a thing, as one couldn't blame the sword for who it was wielded by.
Occasionally, one of the Kettleblack brothers, Osney if she recalled his name correctly would occasionally appear and give tidings of how the battle was being fought outside on the walls. Sansa could think that it might have been going in their favour, the sun had already set a few hours ago and yet they were still alive, breathing and the women unraped.
Sansa had been finishing off her broth when Osney had arrived for the firs time. She had seen him talk to his brother Osfryd before making his way towards the dais were she and the queen along with other high ladies of reputable birth were sat.
Osney Kettleblack smelled of horse and blood, four long thin scratches on his cheek that was already scabbing. Despite him whispering, Sansa couldn't help but overhear what they were talking about, "The battle is still very much raging on Y'Grace. Prince Caspian has been able to throw back Lord Renly's attacks since midday. The river front and the Rush is filled with more Reach dead than gold cloaks or Stormlanders. The prince has had to lead out some sorties personally to retake a Reach mustering point. It's still too early to tell, but the battle seems to be in our favour, Y'Grace."
The queen nodded as she drank from her goblet, "And the king?"
A queer expression came across the Kettleblack's face, "Well, the king has been walking up and down the wall giving encouragement to the men by his brother's command."
The queen quirked an delicate eyebrow in surprise, "By Caspian's command?"
Osney gave a nod of his head, "Aye, Y'Grace. The men listen more to the prince than the king. They respect him more and listen to his commands."
Sansa glanced at the queen and saw that an unusual expression had come across the queen's beautiful features. Even with the amount of drink she had been having, it only served to make the queen look even more beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink and her eyes had a bright, feverish gleam to them as she looked down the hall.
The ballroom was filled with the sounds of laughter and music, but Sansa could tell that the laughter and music was all nothing more than a simple farce. Ser Dontos chased some young women around on his wooden horse, making them laugh, but even their laughs sounded fake.
Everyone is here in body, Sansa thought as she took a drink from her own goblet, But their minds are on the walls. She saw the young bride of one of Ser Lancel's knights start crying uncontrollably. The queen had her sent to bed with a cup of dreamwine.
"Tears," She had the queen say with scorn in her voice, "My mother used to tell me that tears were a woman's weapon. And the sword a man's. That tells us everything we need to know about the world doesn't it?"
Sansa didn't know whether the queen was speaking to her or not, but she decided to answer the question either way, "Men must be very brave though, Your Grace," She began, "To face all kinds of weapons in the midst of battle with the shadow of the Stranger hanging over them."
"Jaime once told me that he feels only truly alive when he is in the midst of battle or in bed." The queen brought another goblet of wine to her lips. She had yet to touch the food that had been placed in front of her, "I would rather be in the midst of battle than be here, pretending everything is merry and playing host to this frightened flock of little hens."
"You asked them here, Your Grace." Sansa pointed out.
A sneer came across the queen's lips. But even with such a distasteful expression, it seemingly did nothing to her beauty, "Certain things are expected of you when you are queen. Try to remember that when Joffrey weds you. Best learn now girl." She said. She studied the various women in the hall with an appraising look about her, "Of the hens themselves, they mean nothing to me, but some of the cocks may very well survive the battle if we win. So it behoves me to give these women my protection should we somehow win. They would return to their cocks with tales of how I was ever brave, offering them my protection and all."
"And if the castle should fall?"
The queen gave her a look, "You would like that wouldn't you?" She didn't wait for a denial, "If I'm not sold out by my own guards, then we would probably hold out until Renly and his lover-boy come to the walls themselves. By then, I shall surrender the castle myself."
"And if he doesn't?" Sansa didn't know why she asked. Some part of her told her that she already knew the answer to that question.
"Then we are all in a bit of rape." The queen told her bluntly, "Of course, we shouldn't rule out the torture, the murder, mutilation and torture of course. Can't forget things like those. People are rather fond of such things at times like this."
Sansa was horrified. Why, she didn't know. The answer had already been screaming to her face for a while now, "But why? There are only women here, unarmed and gently born."
"Their births protect them." Cersei admitted, "Though not as much as you would think. Each one is worth a good ransom, but after the madness of battle, men seem more interested in warmth of flesh rather than the cold of gold. Then again, a golden shield is better than none. Out in the streets, the women won't be treated nowhere near as tenderly, even our dear servants. Pretty things like that serving wench of Lady Tanda would be in for a lively night, and any other woman too, whether she be old, infirm or a pig. Enough drink would make a washerwoman look like nearly as comely as you, sweetling."
"Me?"
"Can you sound anymore like a mouse, sweetling?" The queen took a sip of her wine, "You are a woman now remember? Betrothed to my firstborn as well. Men will scramble to get their hands on you, not as much as me, but you take what you can get in life." She took another sip from her goblet, this time drinking a bit longer and deeper, "Were it anyone else outside the gates, I would most likely be able to beguile them. But this is Renly Baratheon, I fail to see how that oaf of Highgarden thought marrying his darling daughter to him would result in any kind of heir for him that would sit on a throne." She noticed the look on Sansa's face, "Have I shocked you, sweetling? Another word of advice from me to you. Tears aren't the only weapons women have. They also have another one, the one between their legs. Men seem to like swinging their swords around, both of them."
Sansa didn't know what to say. How could she respond to that? Her only experience with any man was Caspian and he was gentle with her. The thought of being a plaything for soldiers to use filled her with dread. She prayed quietly that the walls wouldn't fall. She didn't want that fate, to be dishonoured like that.
She had heard the tale of Lady Ashara Dayne. There were no cliffs to throw herself off, but there did seem to be a large number of towers.
Not long afterwards, the two Kettleblacks returned to the hall. Sansa recalled that the three Kettleblack brothers had become favourites among the denizens of the castle. They got along well with everyone, from the huntsmen, grooms to the knights and lords and ladies. And they got along the best with the serving wenches it was said.
As of late, Ser Osmund had taken the Hound's place beside Joffrey. It was said that he was just as skilled as the Hound with a sword, only younger and faster. If that was true, she had wondered why she had never heard of any of these Kettleblacks before.
She had asked Caspian and he had laughed. She never learned what he found ever so amusing at her question.
The Kettleblacks had reported once again the progress of the battle. It seemed the walls were still being held and at the forefront of the defensive effort was Caspian. They talked more of him than Joffrey who was still walking the walls giving encouragement to the crossbowmen and archers among the battlements.
It became more and more likely that the survival of King's Landing were placed on the shoulders of Caspian rather than his brother the king. And by the whispers that started to go through the room, the other highborn ladies and guests knew it as well.
Some had even become clasping their hands together to pray for Caspian. She could tell they prayed for him by the way their lips moved ever so slightly in silent prayer.
She did the same.
XxX
Caspian
The feel of rushing wind passed his head as he ducked underneath a swing from an axe before Caspian drived his sword into the belly of his attacker. The man let out a groan of pain that doubled as a death rattle before falling to his knees when Caspian wrenched his black blade out from its previous place.
The prince pushed the man over to the side as he went forward once more and cut a bloody swathe through several spear levies that had come at him. He was glad that he had worn a black surcoat. If it had been any other lighter colour, it would have shown just how much blood he was covered in from head to tore.
The sun had already set and the moon was already making its way across the sky. The silver moonlight gave little in terms of light, but it did enough for him to notice that the Rush was filled with rafts going back and forth, bringing more men with each trip it made to the other bank and in other words more reinforcements.
The only consolation Caspian could think of such a thing was that the blood that ran through into the Rush was mostly that of Reachmen. His archers were doing a number on any that began to make their way across.
He could also see fires happening on the other side of the Rush, the catapults having been long since silenced courtesy of those very same fires caused by fire-pots launched from the trebuchets that were now indiscriminately firing. It didn't matter if they aimed or not. By the sheer density the Reachmen were crowded on the opposite bank, a fire pot or boulder was bound to hit something and set it aflame or crunch any unlucky fucker underneath a boulders course of landing.
He noticed a group of a dozen men or so wave the golden rose of House Tyrell near the bank, A rallying point. Caspian didn't like that thought. Not one bit, "Asher! Guyard! Lancel!" He called out to the nearest groups of men. Amidst the sound of battle, they were able to hear his voice, he pointed towards the waving banner and they got the gist of the situation.
Each called some men to them and they all charged the rallying point which now numbered a few dozen. They noticed them coming and the first to come and try to meet them was a spear men in green and gold.
The spearman tried to run through Caspian with his spear. The prince merely batted the weapon away to the side as he ran before bringing his sword in a swing to remove his head.
He had been fighting for so long now with as little as an hours rest at best that his muscles ached with fatigue every time he swung his sword, but he would not go down yet. He was going to be the last man standing if he had any say in it.
Another spearman tried the same and Caspian responded in kind by moving away from his stab before sinking Stormbringer into his shoulder. He had to put effort to cut through the bone and when he couldn't, to cut through the boiled leather and give the man a killing blow.
From beside him, he saw Ser Guyard bash a swordman in the head with his shield emblazoned with his family's sigil in a crunching blow that caved in the head before swinging his own sword at the abdomen of another, allowing his entrails to fall to the ground. The man wailed as he dropped to the ground and tried to place them back into their rightful place.
He didn't see the finishing blow coming from Ser Guyard.
Asher was quick like a viper as he danced through several spearmen and swordsmen alike, bringing killing blows with each swing of his short sword in one hand, and a dagger in the other. It only needed to be a knick to be a killing blow. Like the Red Viper of Dorne himself, Asher had a penchant for putting poisons on his blades.
He saw one unlucky spearman, a boy no older than seven-and-ten at best get a nick on the cheek from his dagger. He turned to try and stab Asher in the back only to stagger before he fell to the ground, froth forming at his mouth and his face paling.
Much to his surprise, it seemed as if his uncle's cousin Lancel had some modicum of skill with a blade in hand as he had been able to survive the day's battle and was still fighting, although unlike the company he was with, he had yet to take down a significant amount of enemies in a short amount of time.
Yet he was able and diligent enough to take down a couple of men with his sword that glistened in the moonlight with blood and brains. His previously shining Lannister crimson and gold armour now more crimson in colour than gold.
All around him, the men his knights and sworn shields had rallied were fighting in life and death battle in the fearsome melee.
They had originally had four companies of a thousand men meant to meet Renly's forces as they landed on their side of the rush. Out of those four companies and four thousand men, they had lost nearly half their number and four had been reduced to two and a bit companies, including the thousand strong reserves.
And yet Renly kept coming. His soldiers kept coming, becoming more emboldened every time they saw fewer and fewer men sortie out to meet them on the banks, even as they were strewn with arrows, bolts, boulders and cooked alive in their armour with fire pots.
Caspian finally reached the banner of the golden rose that was being waved about. The man waving it tried to draw out his sword and cut him down but found himself being impaled through the head by a spear the prince had quilfered from one of his opponents on his way.
He went to pick up the banner as the man dropped to the ground unmoving with the shaft of the spear embedded in his hands, only for a flash of steel to strike at his hand. A thousand thoughts weren't through Caspian's mind, the most prevalent being how ironic this entire situation was.
If the Viper learned of this, he would certainly laugh and say Caspian had it coming to him.
The knight who had struck at him found himself stabbed through the neck, the glimmer of a short sword being seen before it was pulled out, "Caspian!" Edric cried out as he moved to his side. He looked at his arm fraught with worry in his eyes, "Are you alright?"
Caspian looked at his hand and noticed that his chainmail had taken the brunt of the blow, but it still stung, meaning his hand had still been kissed by steel, "No worse for wear." If the knight had put anymore strength into his blow, Caspian knew he would be able to feel, let alone move his hands about as he was doing now. He picked up the banner and flung it into the waters, a round of cheers went through the area from his own soldiers.
He looked around. This wasn't the time for cheers, several other Reach banners were already being set up and he didn't have the men nor the energy to assault them and destroy them. It was time to pull out one of his two tricks, "Fall back to the gate!" He yelled out his orders.
The captains and officers began relaying the order as they fought a fighting retreating. Some men completely disengaged from their opponents and ran back towards the gate whilst others, the more professional ones retreated in a calm and orderly man, acting as a rear guard.
Caspian was one of the last to go through the River Gate that slammed shut behind him, the old hinges of the gate whining and snapping as it was done so. He ran towards the battlements, running up the stairs two at a time.
His muscles screamed at him in fury to sit down and rest. Although his muscles burned and were beginning to feel like lead to him, Caspian would not rest. He soon found his uncle on the wall directing the crossbowmen and archers. Joffrey stood beside him watching attentively at the battle happening below.
"Uncle!" Caspian called out to him. His uncle turned to face him with a slight jump, "Give the order for Rob's Hammer, Lady Lyanna and Lionstar to come and introduce themselves to our Reach friends."
Tyrion blinked before he nodded as he quickly waddled away, Ser Mandon behind him once again.
Caspian took that chance to slump against the battlements and take a rest. He cast a dirty look at his brother, "If we survive this, I am so going to slap you silly. So silly that pretty little face of yours is nothing more than a big, black bruise."
That seemed to take Joffrey by surprise judging by his reaction, "What? Why?"
Caspian felt himself the beginning of a snarl come onto his face. He never snarled, but Caspian couldn't find it in himself to stop. Once again, he found himself blaming his brother for this entire ordeal, "This entire war is your fucking fault that's why!" He half-shouted, "If you weren't such a cruel, entitled, craven, little shit who does nothing but hide behind mother's skirts, we would still be living in a time of peace." He winced when he felt his arm flare in pain. He glanced down at it, "Be fucking useful for once in your entire measly little life and go and get me a maester or bandages at the very least."
Joffrey's face turned red with anger or maybe it was embarrassment. Caspian found himself neither carrying, "You can't talk to me like that! I am the king!"
Caspian could only roll his eyes, "Any man who says he is the king is no true king at all." He waved him off with a gesture of the hand, "What are you still doing here? Didn't I tell you to go get me some bandages or a maester? You are capable of doing simple tasks like that aren't you?"
His brother's face was bristling with anger and he seemed to want to move and do something, but a hand to his shoulder from Ser Osmund stopped him from doing anything. Caspian watched as he violently shrugged of the hand and stomped away like a petulant child.
Ser Osmund glanced at him as he made to follow after him, "The king won't forget that, M'Prince."
"You think too highly of my brother." Caspian coolly replied as slowly peeled off the chainmail sleeve on his arm to take a look at his wound, "By this time tomorrow, he would have forgotten any events that might be taking place today." He winced slightly when he noticed the cut on his hand. If that had been any deeper, it might have cut through a rather important vein and he would have found himself bleeding out, "We'll most likely be dead either way anyway." He finished off callously.
The kingsguard knight only gave him a surprised look before giving him a firm nod as he went on his way.
Caspian ripped a piece of cloth from his under shirt that was relatively clean and wrapped it around the cut before standing up. The loyalist side of the Rush had been completely lost. Everywhere he looked along the bank of the river was filled with Reachmen who were clambering out of their makeshift rafts.
By now, most the rafts remaining were the sturdiest ones that had survived multiple crossings and the weak ones had been destroyed and washed away by the Rush, although their was the occasional one that would topple and spill its contents into the waiting waters below any the other occasional collision between rafts that would sent armoured men to their watery graves within the waters. It was too late to carry out any sort of sortie and even with his remaining forces, they wouldn't be able to retake the river banks.
A power warhorn attracted his attention to the Blackwater Bay and noticed three war galley's make their way towards the Rush. He allowed himself to smile, this was one of his two tricks he had up his sleeve and this trick would serve as the signal for the other trick to begin.
He hoped that this trick would surprise his uncle. It had taken sometime to think off and even more time to get the necessary materials ready to make sure that it gave the most amount of damage to the Reachmen.
They had killed thousands by now and he hoped this plan of his would kill even more thousands. As the ships entered the Blackwater Rush. The ship were immediately taken in by the fast-flowing waters of the Rush and he could see men begin to abandoned ship and jump into the waters of the Rush itself, allowing the ship to be carried by their original momentum and the flow of water and the wind by the looks of the open sails.
It seemed as if the wind was favourable towards them for his next gambit.
His smile became a wide, toothy, feral grin when he saw the dozens upon dozens of rafts in the Rush started waddling quickly in one direction of the bank as they tried to move out of the way of the incoming ships.
"Cease fire!" Caspian bellowed to the archers and crossbowmen. The order was repeated along the lines and the arrows and bolts were stopped from being loosened, much to the surprise and confusion of both the defenders and the attackers, Now sit back and watch the show.
He calmly walked towards an archer and requested his bow and arrow as the ship continued to bulldoze their way through the rafts upon the waters. He took an arrow and lit it up. He trained his arrow behind the waters of one of the galleys, where a green liquid was being released into the waters behind, giving the Rush an eerily green glow in the moonlight, A glow foretelling their doom.
He tried to pull back the string of the bow, but his new injury nagged at him and he cursed. He would have liked to do the honour himself but instead he passed it off back to the archer, "When the galley's are right in front of the River Gate, let loose." He told the archer who nodded his head.
"Yes, m'lord."
Caspian gave him a confident shake of the shoulder, "Good man." He then caught something odd...coming from their side of the Rush. He looked down from the battlements and he could have cried, What is that idiot doing!? He wanted to scream and rant.
The prince quickly scampered away from the battlements and down the stairs, nearly falling down as he did so. He ran towards the gate and saw men being led out, "What the hell are you doing?" He shouted at them.
The men looked confused as they looked at each other, "The king ordered us to sortie out, m'lord." One of them said, his face haggard and bloody. Fatigue showed in his eyes and how he carried his weapon.
"The king doesn't give orders here!" Caspian yelled, "I do! Get back inside the walls!" He ran past the soldiers that were filling back into the gate at his order. When he finally exited through the River Gate, he noticed that a good number of maybe five hundred or so men were already charging towards one of the nearest mustering points, at their head, Joffrey, on a mount his sword raised high and pointed in the direction of the Reachmen.
Caspian once again, wanted to cry. Joffrey was a craven bastard. He wanted to ask the gods were this bout of bravery and courage had suddenly appeared from. His voice hoarse from all the shouting and yelling he had done for the day, he rallied a good several hundred men on him. He drew Stormbring and pointed at his brother, "To the king! The man who drags my idiot brother back through those gates gets a fucking lordship!" That seemed to be enough to make the man charge towards the melee that was happening.
Fear gripped Caspian's heart when he saw his brother's horse brought down by an arrow or two, and it seemed as if the Reachmen had realised who he was as they had gone to meet Joffrey and his company in battle.
Relief came through his face when he saw a glimpse of his brother's frame stand up, the billowing white cloaks of his kingsguard beside him, Seven hells, just keep that idiot alive until I get there. A lit arrow caught his attention from the corner of his eye and his eyes widened in fear, No..., "GET DOWN!" Caspian didn't think he could have shouted any louder if he had tried as he dove straight to the ground.
What followed next was the most deafening sound he had ever heard in his life. It sounded as if a thousand thunders had boomed at once in the heavens and he swore he could feel the earth shake when the explosion happened.
Even by the time it was all over and he gingerly got to his feet, he could feel his ears ringing. He looked in front of him and back and noticed that some men were rising from the ground, but other were not.
King's Landing walls and the River Gate itself seemed to be riddled with holes of varying sizes.
He slowly turned his attention back to the front of himself, and swore. The Rush was on fire. The waters were backed in a luminous, green iridescent flame and the roar of the fire could do nothing to hide the screams of men in pain as they were burned alive. The unlucky ones that had found themselves not to be killed by the initial explosion and were left to the tender mercies of being cooked alive instead.
He held his sword limply in his hand as he stumbled in the direction that he had last seen his brother in. As he got closer to the burning river, he could feel the heat the green flames gave off prick his skin. By now, the men that had been following him couldn't handle the heat.
Maybe it was because he had still to regain his wits about him, but he found the heat somewhat, oddly soothing.
He neared the first of the bodies that had been near the explosion. They were all riddled with holes of varying sizes. He had even come across a grizzly sight of one men missing half his head, I have done worse this day. He thought as he recalled shaving half a man's head off with a swing of his sword in his first sortie.
His leg hit a helmet and he looked down and grimaced. The helmet had melted ever so slightly, but he could recognise the golden lion design. He bent down and picked it up before looking around.
He could see that some men were still alive as he could see movement but he was sure none of them would live for much longer. The heat was stifling and they would more than likely die of heatstroke.
He went to open his mouth to order his own men to help carry their wounded but found the heated air burn his throat and lungs. He coughed several times before making his way back. He cast one last look in the direction of the burning Blackwater Rush and had one last thought as he made his way back to the River Gate.
"Joffrey, you fucking idiot." Honestly, Caspian couldn't find himself surprised. Joffrey did seem like the kind of person who would go on to die young, "Mother isn't going to be happy about this."
AN: Hot damn, I think this battle scene is miles better than my first one. What do you guys think? You think so too don't you? I know you do.
I have to say, are some of you guys psychic? Some of you are somehow being able to guess out some of my plot points before I have even posted a chapter. But I'm not going to be a spoiler and point out which lucky reviewers are hitting far too close for home when it comes to my story. I'll leave that to you guys.
Well, here's the Battle for King's Landing. Next chapter will be either an after-action report or the final phase of the battle, maybe a mixture of both.
Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
TheForeverKing
