Note: This is one of two chapters that can be considered "Chapter 34". I encourage you to believe whichever you want is "canon".

The Butcher's Bill

Jon's horse moved underneath him, fidgeting in the early morning light. He didn't care to discipline the beast right now either; there were much more important things to be focusing on rather than how his horse was feeling.

Plus, as a knight, he could just pass the responsibility of looking after his horse to his squire. Even now the young man was giving his horse some last-minute feed and checking that he wasn't too tightly strapped to the beast. This battle wasn't going to be one that was fought on horseback for long after all.

The initial charge would be from horseback but in the small line lanes of the large village they would be assaulting, there was only the main road they could really fit a charging horse down. So after the initial charge they would be dismounting and getting into the blood on foot; something that Jon actually preferred considering his work with a lance was very much secondary to his prowess with the weapons of the melee.

And he wanted to be close when he saw the light leave The Mountain's eyes.

As his squire went to see to his own equipment, Jon checked over his weapons and whether or not they were ready to be drawn quickly. Red Rain was strapped to the left side of the horse, ready to be drawn with his right. His axe, similarly, was actually strapped to his own side but on the right. Affixed to his left forearm was a strong ironwood shield and his lance was currently resting against his right side, ready to be used.

Perhaps all those tournament knights would actually have a use in battle after all! Of course a charge with lances was often only effective if you had flat ground to actually make the charge and enough open space to then turn the cavalry around for second attack, this time with sword, war hammer and maces rather than the lances, since they would be broken in the first charge.

But considering that this was going to come as a massive surprise to the defenders, it was considered an acceptable risk to charge through the majority of the forces, then dismount to face the disorientated enemy before they could adapt to the fact that they were now suddenly in battle rather than enjoying the spoils of a newly conquered village.

It was the Blackfish's plan and Jon didn't much care.

Jon had made certain that if anyone spotted The Mountain they were to disengage and alert himself and Gendry. The two of them would take the man apart together. Domeric, Waldis and the Blackfish would be in charge of exterminating the rest of the Lannister men. Considering they outnumbered The Mountain's Men by a good hundred or so and they were attacking with the element of surprise?

Jon didn't expect much resistance considering The Mountain's Men were mainly used as shock troops. Their ability to form an effective defence in the face of a truly surprising enemy? Well he probably wasn't going to be losing much more sleep over this battle.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, grip on the lance tightening in preparation.

The rest of the cavalry was ready to go, all that remained was for Domeric to get the infantry ready to charge in after them and for the Blackfish to organise what the hell the archers were going to be doing. To be honest, Jon hadn't really paid much attention to any part of the plan other than the cavalry. He had wanted to, he really had, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on anything that wasn't going to bring him closer to the revenge that he wanted.

Finally, he was here.

Finally his vengeance was within sight.

He had been thinking about what he would do to The Mountain for days now. Some of it was quite disturbing even for him. He'd even asked for ideas from some of his men too and they'd come up with quite a wide variety of things they could put the monster through. Naturally, Ramsey had gushed about different methods of torturing the man to death and Jon had surprised everyone by sitting and seriously listening to each and every one of his suggestions, no matter how deranged or bloody they sounded.

They had turned Jon's stomach but he had to admit that seeing The Mountain suffer under some of them would be worth any amount of bile. He wanted to see that scum-sucking piece of shite die but he wanted it to be accompanied by more pain than the monstrous ogre had ever felt before in his entire life. He was going to kill the man but he refused to let that end goal distract him from idea of gaining vengeance for Sansa by revisiting the pain she'd felt tenfold onto The Mountain.

"You ready for this Jon?"

Jon gritted his teeth a little bit. That Gendry, of all people, had to ask that question was just stupid. Likely his friend hadn't forgotten the answer but was actually going to try and talk him out of facing The Mountain again, leaving it in Gendry's hands to end the monster. But the answer to that question hadn't changed from the first time Gendry had asked it.

"I am." He declared with a short growl, "I won't rest until my sister's killer lies dead at my feet Gendry. If you think anyone in the vanguard may stand in my way; remove them. I won't have anyone stand in the way of my vengeance."

He cast a glance at the taller man mounted beside him. They shared a look for a moment and Jon could tell by the way Gendry looked away that he understood. Jon would remove Gendry from his side in this battle if his friend was going to keep trying to stop him from having his chance at killing the man responsible for Sansa's death. His friend checked his war hammer was secured and Jon let that be the end of it, refocusing his attention on the edge of the treeline and, beyond that, the small hamlet they would be assaulting.

They currently had the cover of the trees and there were only really two entrances to the hamlet considering it was situated on the bank of one of the thinner offshoots of one of the many rivers. With the cavalry attacking from one angle and the infantry from another, there was no way for The Mountain's Men to escape.

Reaching up, Jon snapped his visor closed resolutely as he took up his lance in a ready position. Gendry and the others did the same, lances raised high in the air for now but otherwise ready to throw themselves into the battle. There would be a time where they were without infantry support, likely surrounded due to the momentum of their charge taking them further into the village.

But it didn't matter to Jon.

His men were ready, The Mountain's Men were not. And all it would take for the band of killers and cutthroats to break was the death of their figurehead himself. After all, once the Mountain had fallen his men would lose morale, being cowards at heart. The infantry charge from the other direction would just be the anvil to their hammer.

"Remember the phrase for if you spot The Mountain." He called out to his men, his visor slightly muffling his words but not enough to be unrecognisable, "A golden dragon to the man who spots him first. A mouthful of broken teeth to the man who seeks to keep my vengeance from me!"

The men rumbled their assent. None of them wanted to get in the way of his vengeance for a number of reasons. The Mountain wasn't liked; at all. And some of his men had actually had the good fortune to actually meet Sansa before she left The North. None of those who had met her wanted The Mountain to actually escape without paying for the crime.

"And my sword to whomever takes my vengeance should I fall!" he declared, "But you all know… I have need of this blade for more than this so don't expect to be holding it by the end of this day!"

A cheer at that.

Jon would be worried about the noise discipline but it didn't matter now. He raised his lance and trotted forwards, kicking his horse forwards,

"With me! For Winterfell!" He pumped his lance in the air, to the sound of another cheer, "For The North! FOR VENGEANCE!"

In the end he didn't even need to specify that it was time for the charge. Instead he kicked his own horse forwards faster and the cavalry surged forwards with him. They broke through the treeline and Jon couched his lance on instinct as the sudden light from above blinded him for a moment. The glare from the dusk sun died down as he led the charge down the short rise and onto the main dirt road into the village.

The line had formed so that he wasn't actually apart from his men, despite being the first one to start charging. His lance was joined by the first and second ranks of the cavalry, the second rank actually a good two horses behind the first so that they could safely couch their lances and destroy anyone who had survived the first rank running roughshod over them.

Jon gripped his lance tightly, lining his lance up with a Lannister man some distance ahead of him. Time seemed to slow as they thundered ever closer, the sounds disappearing for a moment so that all he could hear was his own breath and all he could see was the man's surprise and his un-blunted lance perfectly couched and aimed.

The illusion broke and Jon watched as his lance sheered right through the man's armour, breaking right through the torso of the man and flinging him bodily against a few of his fellows and, finally, against the wall of one of the small houses.

His lance broken, Jon dropped it but continued to charge with his men, his horse's large bulk completely knocking a man down, where he was then trampled to death messily beneath the hoofs of the first rank. Drawing his sword in his right hand, shield still firmly attached to his left, Jon continued to charge through the small hamlet's main thoroughfare, running down lightly armoured men as they sought to flee from the cavalry.

Following them round a slight bend, around one of the larger buildings and towards the jetty for the ferry, Jon's eyes widened behind his visor. Three ranks of archers were at the ready by the river's edge.

"Loose!"

Nothing for it then was there? Jon didn't slow down, which rallied any of the doubters he was riding with, who spurred their tiring horses onwards. The distance between the advancing Northmen and the Lannister archers was disappearing quickly but the arrows had been loosed. Jon raised his shield so that it was able to cover his neck and, actually, his horse's face.

He was wearing mostly plate armour after all, these were bowmen. The arrows were deadly, make no mistake, but at the end of the day they needed to find weak points in the armour to bite enough to kill. The horses were lightly armoured and even an unarmoured horse could take quite a few arrows before falling. But if you got a lucky shot in and got the horse's face then it would buck and you'd be down.

The arrows landed.

Jon gritted his teeth as he felt more than a few of them break against the plates of his armour and his horse slowed slightly, proof that it had not been left unscathed. His shield arm jarred slightly so he was happy he'd actually covered his mount's head too, otherwise he probably would have been thrown from the horse already. But the volley was over and with the speed they were going, the archers wouldn't be able to get another off.

Lowering his shield as he raised his sword, Jon roared in defiance as his horse ploughed into the first two ranks of archers, outright crushing the first archer and knocking the man in the second rank to the side. He plunged his sword forwards, cleaving through the heads of two of the rear most archers in one clean swipe of his sword. Rearing his horse, Jon grinned darkly behind his helmet as his horse's hoofs broke a man's skull cleanly and landed on another when it came back to rest on all four legs.

Snarling, Jon lashed out with the edge of his shield was one of the archers tried to stab his horse in the neck with an arrow. The reinforced edge of his shield broke the man's nose easily and as he staggered backwards there was a flash of steel as Gendry's war hammer turned the offender's head to a fine red mist.

Parrying a slash with a knife, Jon couldn't stop himself from laughing at the expression on the archer's face as Red Rain's supreme edge meant the frail knife had actually been cut in half. He swung the blade down, taking the man's arm and his life in a glorious spray of crimson. Kicking out with his metal-encased stirrup, Jon shattered a man's teeth before an ally claimed his life with a sword strike to the side.

The almost unarmoured archers were easy pickings for the heavily armoured and mounted Northern cavalry, dying to the man within moments while the Northerners hadn't sustained many loses at all. A few of the men had been brought down by the arrows however and most of the horses were, to put it bluntly, on their last legs.

Now that his sword was dripping in blood as the archers were slain, Jon took stock of the situation, starting with his own situation.

Lance was gone. Expected.

Shield had a few arrows stuck in it. A single swipe with his sword broke the shafts, even if the heads were firmly embedded in the wood.

His horse had taken a good half a dozen arrows and felt unsteady. A common problem as far as a quick glance as his fellows confirmed. Jon dismounted from his horse, noting how the animal managed to stay upright long enough to see his safely off before it sank to the ground. It wasn't dead but those arrows weren't going to be flesh wounds.

In all likelihood this animal wasn't ever going to run again, one of the arrows had pierced its front right leg and another had impacted its chest and dug in deep. Probably why it was struggling to breathe. And yet it had carried him in the last leg of his charge anyway. It was in pain, unlikely to ever recover and it had served him well.

Usually it was the squire's job but Jon wasn't going to make someone else do this. He rested his hand on his horse's head, covering its eyes,

"Thank you. Go to the Gods now and serve as war mount to the warriors of old." He whispered, Red Rain slitting the beast's throat quickly and efficiently to minimise the beast's suffering. He took a breath, "Gendry! Report!"

Gendry was dismounted as well and covered from head to toe on the right side by blood. As a right-handed user of the war hammer, this was a pretty standard look for Gendry, though the arrow protruding from his visor was something of a concern. His friend seemed to acknowledge this, reaching up and pulling the arrow free with a growl before opened his visor.

The arrow had gotten between the slits of the visor but had been slowed enough that it had only managed to stab into Gendry's upper right cheek. He still looked a lot more severe than Jon would have expected however,

"Jon, there's more men here than we were told." He ground out, spitting out some of the blood that had filled his mouth from the arrow's wound, "The Mountains Men don't use bows – they charge in like the crazy fucks they are and hack their victims to pieces. These shites were regular Lannister men."

Well now…that had been in the back of Jon's mind as well he had to admit. It painted a grim picture indeed but reinforcements or no, trap or no trap, Jon wasn't going anywhere. They were too committed now anyway. The mounted men of the order and their Riverlands and Northern brethren were already in the village and amongst the enemy. Horses were downed or injured, as well as some of the men. There would be no retreat until the either the infantry managed to break through the encirclement or they managed to overcome their enemies.

Unlashing his shield, Jon instead strapped it to his back and drew his axe in his left hand instead, testing its weight for a moment before glaring up the dirt road, the second and third ranks of his charge no bogged down in fighting men on foot. A lot more men on foot than they had expected. Even now he could see the doors to one of the homes being broken down and more of The Mountain's Men poured out onto the street.

"We need to rally the men." He declared strongly, "I need men to hold this jetty and I need men to follow me and lead our boys back to us! This is a defensive position – we'll funnel the enemy towards us!"

The men cheered in agreement, eager since they had only faced victory so far in this battle, no matter what trouble his other men had encountered. Gendry shot him a look,

"And how will we fall back from this position Jon?"

He had a point.

"Put some of the men to the task of finding the ferry. If it can't be found, a fishing boat instead. We control the access to the river so we can use it to escape should the worst come to pass."

Gendry nodded once and went to set some men onto the task even as Jon turned to a few of his men who were ready to link up with their fellows. Swallowing down his emotions at seeing so many of his men cut off and being swarmed by superior numbers, Jon told himself that he could throw up later. He could wallow in his own pity at having 'failed' them later.

Right now he had a chance to save some of them.

"To me!" he declared, bloody sword raised high, "Let's go get our men back from those goat fucking Lannister's!"

Jon joined in with the resounding roar that followed, charging forwards with his sword and axe in hand. Despite his fierce battle roar, the first man he met in combat wasn't actually ready for him, he was facing a small cluster of mounter Northerners instead. Jon corrected his negligence with a thrust of his sword into the man's side, between the seams of his plate armour and into his chest. Shredding the man's lungs, Jon spun to the side slightly to avoid a jab from a spear, his axe bashing a man in the side of his helmet, glancing off but stunning him enough for one of Jon's reinforcements to pull him to the ground and end him. The crowd around the dozen or so horsemen now open, Jon blocked a sword swipe with his own before capitalising with his axe and cutting off the man's sword arm before burying his sword into the man's throat.

He looked up at the horsemen,

"Pull back to the river!" he commanded, "Dismount at the river and prepare to defend until relief! Go, go, GO!"

The horsemen thundered out the gap that he and his men had made but he could already see that they had been pretty much the last of the horsemen left in the village as a whole. There were a few isolated men but they were being dragged from their horses and killed with increasing speed. It actually broke through his practised emotional deadness for a moment to see some of his men helplessly look to him for aid before they were dragged from their horses and torn limb from bloody limb.

Jon hated this but he supposed none of the commanders he'd beaten in battle had ever liked losing either.

"Back to the river! Fall back!"

The men who had come with him to free the horsemen followed his lead, pulling back along the main exit towards the jetty and the river. Rushing back, Jon was glad to see that Gendry had taken his task seriously and there was a tightly packaged shield wall in a semi-circle around where the road met the small jetty. Jon glanced back, noticing how the pursuit seemed to stop rather quickly.

Paying it no mind, Jon ushered his men back behind the shield wall. There were probably only fifty of them left in total. Jon didn't remember just how many had made the charge with him exactly but he did know that the first wave had numbered around forty. He patted Gendry on the shoulder, both of them stood behind the impressive shield wall. Spears, pikes and lances (both broken and not) were held between the gaps of the shields as the first line of defence.

Jon lifted his visor and tugged off his gauntlet, wiping sweat from his forehead as the Lannister forces spread out in front of them. At least three hundred of them… and Jon knew that their initial charge had killed dozens of them. Which meant that their estimates about the Lannister strength in the village had been drastically underestimated. Some of those scouts were going to have Jon personally beating seven hells out of them for this.

If he got out of here alive that was.

As the Lannister's surrounded them in a semi-circle of their own, Jon was considering what kind of rousing speech he could give to his, probably, doomed men. It would have to be something either hopeful or something that inspired the urge to spite the enemy.

"Ogre on the field!"

Jon froze.

That was the phrase for if someone spotted The Mountain coming into play. Looking out over the shields, Jon gritted his teeth hard as he saw the unmistakable form of The Mountain come pushing to the front of his men. The man was clan head to toe in impressive-looking plate armour but the man was seven foot tall; there wasn't any chance of him being mistaken for anyone else.

The thug who had killed his sister was right there, stepping out into the no man's land between the two forces with massive strides and what looked like boundless fucking confidence! Jon only realised that Gendry was holding him back when he felt himself being pulled back. No, that was wrong. He was actually leaning forwards and Gendry was just holding him in place.

He wanted to smack his friend in the face, vault over the shields and show this monster what happened when you fucked with the Starks. But he knew that if he did that then he would probably die and then all of his men would die as well. Licking his dry lips, Jon nodded to Gendry and pulled his gauntlet back on,

"The boats?"

Gendry tapped the side of his helmet and gestured to the other side of the river. He didn't see anything in the treeline for a moment until he caught a glimpse of some steel. He raised an eyebrow,

"Domeric and Waldis' infantry." Gendry answered the silent question in a whisper, "We have two boats. We can withdraw some of the men but… there's not a lot of them left Jon. Something has gotten itself so fucked here. I'm thinking we get as many men back as we can and… volunteers to hold the Lannister's off so the others can escape. But we're going to need a window and that's going to cost us more men."

Jon took a deep breath, eyes closed and hand squeezing the hilt of Red Rain in a rhythm. He shook his head,

"I can get us a distraction with only one more lost life." He told Gendry, clasping Gendry's forearm with his hand and pulling the man close in an embrace, "I don't know if I can win Gendry and it doesn't matter. Use this as the distraction and get our men home. Get back to the Northern armies and fuck these Lannister scumbag up. For me."

Not letting Gendry answer him, Jon released his friend and shut his visor with a sense of finality before tapping the back of his men to open the shield wall enough for him to step out, sword and axe held aloft to his sides.

The Mountain was still stood between the two forces and now that he was closer, Jon could see that he held a head in his left hand. Jon flinched behind his helmet when the head was thrown in his direction but managed to look visually unmoving as the head stopped by his feet. He stepped to the side of it without taking his eyes off The Mountain.

"You Whitewolf?" at Jon's nod, The Mountain opened his visor to show his ugly sneer, "That was the Blackfish. Strongboar's men cut through his archers and your reinforcements like sheep."

The rage was bubbling over now but Jon was the distraction. He wanted to rile up The Mountain as much as possible without getting himself killed before his men could escape. Though he did now realise just how fucked they were. Lyle 'Strongboar' Crakehall was one of the commanders of the broken armies of Kevin Lannister. He had managed to retain some control over some of the retreating forces but the last scout reports said the man and his forces were leagues away.

Yet another thing he was going to have to bring up with the scouts.

"You going to beg for mercy for your men now?"

Jon's nostrils flared angrily behind his visor and his grip on his weapons tightened. Taking a few breaths to calm himself, Jon kept his eyes on the giant of a man,

"Wolves don't beg for anything from dogs, Clegane." He bit back, noticing how the ugly sneer turned to an ugly scowl. Gods, was everything this man did ugly? Seemed that way, "Besides, you wouldn't give mercy even if you swore to all the Gods. You're a rabid dog, aren't you Clegane? You get your jollies off raping highborn girls and then killing them. Making lowborn fathers choose which of their children you're going to rape before forcing them to watch you rape all of them anyway. You don't do mercy."

That truly massive sword on Clegane's back was drawn now, held in one hand despite weighing more than most fucking men. Jon was a strong man but he knew that he wouldn't be able to fight with such a weapon, even with two hands. And this fucker was using one hand… fan-fucking-tastic.

"Neither do you. Call you the Bloody Wolf they do." He rumbled, "Heard you butchered some of my men. Don't like that Wolf…"

Feeding him straight lines here,

"Then why don't you do something about that?" he challenged, Red Rain pointed at the monstrously tall man in front of him, "You and me. My men can butcher yours… but first I want to be able to watch the life leave your eyes for what you did to my sister!"

Jeers and cheers from both sides but otherwise silence. Until there was a booming and hoarse sound that took Jon a moment to realise was actually The Mountain laughing. The man shut his visor with his free hand,

"I killed a lot of sisters…" The beast taunted, "You'll have to remind me which cunt it was."

Jon saw red for a moment and stepped forwards, sword and axe at the ready before launching himself at the larger man with a battle cry.

The Mountain's colossal sword was swung at roughly head height. Jon growled and ducked low enough to avoid the swipe but brought his axe up to catch the blade so he could use his sword to stab at his opponent's exposed side. With plate that well-made, he was going to have to attack at the seams a lot more. Valyrian Steel or not, it was probably going to be too thick for him to be able to thrust through all of it.

His thoughts were derailed when The Mountain's sword wasn't caught by his axe, instead the momentum of the swing alone was enough to yank the axe from his hand. Jon's eyes widened as his axe flew past his face and off into the distance. He had just enough time to gawp at it for a moment before he realise that The Mountain had grabbed his axe arm with his free hand.

Shite.

Jon roared in pain as the man squeezed on his left hand. The Mountain's strength was unlike what Jon had known before and he could practically hear as his little finger and pointer finger cracked and broke. The massive sword was being raised for another swing and he was currently trapped by his hand. Jon gritted his teeth against the man and roared as he stabbed downwards, throwing his body into the stab as he did so.

The Mountain's sword missing his head as Red Rain stabbed down into the man's foot, pinning him to the ground as Jon drove his weapon into the hilt. This time it was the Westerlander who roared in pain and in that brief moment he released Jon's left hand, giving Jon the freedom of movement to jump backward to avoid another massive swing of The Mountain's sword. It still connected however, hitting Jon's back with the power of a battering ram and sending him half-sprawling to the ground.

The armour there was dented but unbroken, much the same as his left shoulder blade most likely. Thankfully when The Mountain had tried to take a step forwards to capitalise, Red Rain held true and cut deeper into the man's foot, causing him to let out another bellowing roar.

Not unlike a certain bear.

Now weapon less, Jon took his shield from his back and quickly strapped it to his left arm. Annoyingly it had been hanging slightly to the right so it hadn't covered his left shoulder blade to protect against the last sword strike. But right now Jon was just glad that he had something to defend himself with. He brought his shield up in time, bracing it with his other arm as well as he did his best to push up and way with the shield to deflect his opponent's follow up slash.

The shock up his arms was immense. Was The Mountain even fucking human or was he actually a fucking Ogre like the smallfolk said? Because this much force in a properly deflected blow?

He was glad he hadn't tried to actually block the attack.

It proved, however, that he couldn't be on the defensive because The Mountain's size and strength made any engagement of that type foolish. Pushing against the natural fear in his gut, Jon roared as he charged forwards, ducking under another slash and suddenly he was inside The Mountain's guard. He struck upwards with his shield, bashing the man's visor inwards with a loud clash of steel. His right hand however, reached out and grasped Red Rain by the hilt.

Rolling forwards, between the giant's legs, Jon tore Red Rain from the giant's foot when he was disorientated. The Mountain leaned to one side and Jon capitalised, turning and stabbing his blade into the weak point behind The Mountain's other knee, the tip bursting through the front in a spray of blood even as Jon roared his bloodlust and Clegane screamed in pain as Jon hampered his mobility even more than he already had with the injury to his foot.

Jon climbed to his feet a little bit away from his opponent now, sword and shield firmly in hand. So far he'd had a few broken fingers and a left arm that was slightly sluggish due to the damage to his shoulder blade. The Mountain had a gaping hole in his left foot and his right knee had had a sword put through it. If they were scoring this on points, Jon would say that he was winning but he knew better than to count The Mountain out yet.

He needed to stay on the attack.

Pushing his aching body forwards, Jon raised his shield just in time to block another massive blow from The Mountain's sword. He was unprepared however and didn't deflect the blow as it should have been, which probably broke his wrist if the pain was any indication. Working through the pain, and seeking a way to break off the engagement to formulate a new plan of attack, Jon turned and stabbed with his sword… which stopped short.

Jon's eyes widened when he saw that his opponent, ignoring the Valyrian Steel biting into his hand through the armour, had caught his blade, his own sword dropped from the moment. The Mountain pulled and Jon felt himself almost powerless to resist as he was yanked forwards and his opponent's helmet smashed into the front of his own. The sound was incredibly and Jon could taste blood. He subconsciously checked and was somewhat relieved to find that he hadn't bitten through his tongue.

Instead, his head had impacted his helmet with enough force that his nose was most definitely broken and he couldn't be sure right now but he seemed a little light on teeth.

Jon's dizziness and mental checklist was put on hold when he felt a burning pain and felt his right shin break as a sword was stabbed clean through his armour into it. Screaming in pain, Jon was treated to another headbutt, which dazed him again but not nearing so much as before. He struggled as his helmet was yanked free from his head but the struggling stopped as he felt the sword being removed from his leg, causing him to bite down on his screams as he came face to face with his opponent.

At some point The Mountain's visor had been torn open so Jon could see the naked joy in the man's eyes and he took Red Rain and stabbed in down into Jon again. Jon was able to move himself slightly so that he avoided having his own blade stabbed into his guts but it still racked along his side. He screamed and The Mountain laughed, leaving the blade inside him as he reached down with both hands and grabbed Jon by the neck.

Immediately Jon began striking at The Mountain with his shield, hitting the man's elbow joint as hard as he could as the grip slowly tightened. Here was a man certain of his victory… he was making sure to choke Jon slowly. Jon struggled but it was feeling increasingly futile as he felt his cheeks burning and the strength fleeing from his limbs. The Mountain, sensing victory, brought his face closer,

"You know… I remember your cunt of a sister now…" he rumbled, an ugly grin on his face even as Jon's teeth gritted together tighter at the reminder, "But you know what? I don't-"

Jon didn't give a fuck what this bastard did or didn't do or remember or whatever. His right hand had finally grasped something of use and he didn't waste his opportunity, burying the broken arrow into The Mountain's eye with the last of his strength.

The pressure on his throat fled and Jon greedily gulped down as many breaths of air as he could while scrambling backwards along the ground. His progress was diabolical but to be fair he had a sword in his side, a broken and bleeding right leg and his lower left arm was even more fucked than it had been before. He didn't make it very far before The Mountain was on him again, grabbing his shield and tearing it from his left arm.

Now a cyclops, The Mountain was literally frothing as the mouth as he grabbed Jon's left arm and pulled. Jon screamed as his arm was pulled from its socket, useless now. He reached out again with his right arm but The Mountain stabbed an arrow into the exposed underside of his right forearm. Was that the fucking arrow he'd put the man's eye out with? Jon looked up at The Mountain's terrifying visage, noting his right eye was alit with anger and his left was nothing but a milky discharge and empty socket.

Yeah, that was the same arrow.

Jon didn't have much time to dwell on it however because The Mountain was on him and this time he didn't seem concerned with making it slow – only in making it bloodier and longer. The Mountain grabbed Jon's hair in one hand before grabbing his left ear with the other,

"You fucking fuck! Pretty fucker!" The Mountain spat, saliva, blood and liquid eyeball dribbling down onto Jon's face, "Think you're a fucking warrior?! You're a flowery Shite like a fucking Tyrell! You'll die as ugly as I can make you! You'll die deaf and blind and screaming for that cunt of a mother of yours!"

He wasn't really in a position to argue, all things considered. Jon struggled, trying to break the man's grip on his head even if he didn't have any clue as to what to do after that. For his trouble The Mountain bashed his head down against the ground beneath them, dazing him before he began pulling.

Jon screamed as The Mountain crowed in triumph, tearing Jon's left ear clean off his head, tearing up a few strips of skin and hair along the way too. The Mountain roared in victory, raising the bloody strip of flesh in the air to cheers, which for some reason turned to jeering for a moment for some reason.

The Mountain jerked forwards with a gasp of pain. Jon blinked dully up at the man who would be his end, confused as he jerked forwards again, this time roaring with anger and pain as he turned to the side. Jon followed his gaze, eyes widening as Gendry appearing at the side with a snarl as his war hammer lashed out, slamming into The Mountain's shoulder, the armour making a Gods awful sound as the force of the blow rent the armour and doubtlessly powdered the man's shoulder.

Jon watched with wide eyes as Gendry, helmet absent for some reason, raised his war hammer up high before bringing down in a massive display of strength atop The Mountain's helmet. Before his eyes, Jon watched in seemingly slow motion as Clegane's helmet first seemed to crumple downwards before his face seemed to sag and his remaining eye was squished by its own rapidly shrinking socket. His teeth shattered and his tongue seemed to disappear into a spray of blood, which was quickly followed by the rest of the man's head as the skin suddenly seemed to be pulled tight for a moment before it split in multiple places and blood geysered forth.

The Mountain slumped before a follow-up bashing of Gendry's hammer rent his chest plate inwards and sent the now headless corpse falling backwards and away from Jon. Despite killing The Mountain, Gendry didn't spare a single moment, grabbing Jon bodily by the edge of his armour and throwing him over his shoulder. The movement caused literally all of Jon's wounds to sear with pain and he screamed his displeasure despite himself even as Gendry charged back to the Northern lines, which were actually closer than the Lannister ones.

A gap in the shield wall was held open for them just long enough for Gendry to literally leap through with Jon on his shoulder, looking back as the shield wall held against the full weight of the Lannister forces. Gendry was breathing heavily as he raced along the jetty. Jon assumed there was a boat but he was looking behind him, seeing the sheer weight of numbers beginning to overwhelm the rather undermanned shield wall.

At least most of the men had managed to flee then.

"Get him in the boat!"

Jon knew that voice… Waldis?

Sure enough, Waldis and the dozen or so other Frey knights were at the end of the jetty and Jon found himself being laid in a fishing boat, judging by the smell at least. Even with Gendry being as gentle as possible, Jon still had to stifle a cry of pain. That was probably from Red Rain… which was still stuck in the side of his gut actually. Probably stuck in his… what had Sam called it? Kidney? Yeah that sounded right.

Waldis looked at him once even as Gendry grabbed both oars from two other occupants of the boat and began rowing, using his sheer strength to rapidly begin the crossing. Jon kept his gaze on the jetty, seeing the shield wall breaking at the end of it.

"Brothers… Cousins… Kinsmen!" Waldis cried, shield out with his sword braced atop it, ever the picture of a brave knight facing a villainous charge, "The Northmen came to the aid of our people! They gave us time to recover and ready our strike back! Now be with me as we repay that debt and give the Northmen the chance to retreat and recover… with me men of the Frey lands! FOR THE CROSSING!"

Jon watched, his tongue unable to mouth to form what he wanted to say as Waldis and his Frey relatives, perhaps a dozen, charged down the length of the jetty to meet the onrushing horde of Lannister men. Their boat wasn't far enough out to avoid any arrow shots or even well-placed spear throws… but Waldis Frey charged forth to buy Gendry enough time to get him far enough away to be safe.

He cried silently as he saw Waldis and his kin disappearing underneath men clad in Lannister red, eager to get some measure of meat now that Jon and Gendry had reached the opposite riverbank and were out of their clutches. Feeling the boat run aground on the riverbank, Jon gritted his teeth in preparation but still cried out as Gendry lifted him again and rushed forwards,

"Where can I set him down?"

"Over here!"

Sam?

Was that Sam?

Jon opened his eyes, forcing himself to turn his head to see that he was being led to the flat bed of what looked like a farmer's wagon. He held in a scream as he was laid down on the wagon. Usually when he was injured he'd clamp a hand to the wound that hurt the most but both of his arms were fucked enough that he didn't really feel like doing that right now. Instead he felt practiced hands taking his armour off and tossing the metal aside.

"Sam?"

His portly friend was sat in the wagon with him, herbs and bandages abound. Was this Sam's 'medical wagon'? It certainly stank like it. But why would Sam be away from camp? He wanted to ask the question but dear Gods was he dizzy. Thankfully for Jon's curiosity, Gendry had climbed into the back of the wagon as well and seemed just as curious as he was,

"What happened Sam?" Gendry demanded, none to gently, "I get Jon here and expect to get back to camp and Dom tells me "we don't have time" and starts marching the men like fucking slaves! Start talking! NOW!"

Gods Gendry had a set of lungs on him. Jon wanted to know as well so he didn't blame his friend. He just tried to keep himself from crying out in pain as Sam pulled Red Rain out without preamble before working to stem the bleeding.

"It was all a trap." He mumbled as he threw a strange powder onto Jon's wound that made him cry out as his skin felt like it was on fire, "All of it. The attack on The Mountain… the prisoners…"

Jon ignored the pain in his right arm and reached up, grabbing Sam's loose robes. Sam seemed more surprised that he was awake than anything else,

"W-who… who did we lose?" he managed to grind out, pulling his healer friend closer when he hesitated, "Tell me!"

Sam broke his grip with almost laughable ease and pushed him down again. Diligent to the last, Sam continued to give his attention to the stab wound instead of Jon for a moment before the answer came,

"Everyone, Jon. I was out gathering herbs with a couple of scouts when they attacked…"

A pregnant pause where Jon forced him to grab onto Sam's robes again. He didn't pull this time, he let the gesture alone speak about how desperate he was for answers. Sam looked down at him with eyes that was suspiciously red around the edges,

"It was Lancel, Jon."

Jon's hand fell and he couldn't bring himself to care. Bleeding and beaten in the back of a herbal wagon, Jon looked out the back of the wagon at his demoralised men… who were all that remained of his order and The Blackfish's men as well. He felt his eyes growing heavier as his head slumped back so all he could see was the early night sky above them instead.

For the first time in a long time… he had lost.

Not a tactical withdrawal or anything so forgiving; he'd lost. His forces were destroyed almost to a man, his body was broken and he had lost at least, at least, one of his best friends today.

Waldis had paid for his mistakes and had died for him.

Jon would see that Lancel Lannister paid the same price, before all the Gods he swore it.