Chapter XI

Part III

Edmure I

It was dawn as Edmure scoured the horizon from the top of Riverrun's battlements, as it was said the view from Riverrun's ramparts was more than fifty leagues on good days. And for the most part that was true, it was a clear day with only sparse clouds in the sky, the view going on for leagues ahead of him. Right before him though laid hundreds upon hundreds of tents filled with Lannister soldiers. Between him and them, though, were what had held them up for so long. Trenches and battlements, each forming a solid first, second and third line of defence before the assaulters could even reach the castle. The first line had fallen, but the Riverlanders had managed to render the defences useless in case of a counter-offensive. The second line was bruised and battered, but held in several places. Still, this meant now only the third line stopped the Lannisters from the water separating them and Riverrun, which was where most of the Riverlander army was encamped. And with the Lannisters starting to drain the canals and rivers around the castle, the situation would be dire in a matter of months, if not weeks.

He hoped the northern host would have joined up with Darry and beaten back Tywin's host, making time for the Royal host to move to relieve Riverrun, but the Darry fool thought he could take on Tywin Lannister head on. Idiot, if he had just held Harrenhal like ordered, Tarly would have linked up and the forces sieging Riverrun would have been taken between hammer and anvil. Now, the ten thousand northerners wouldn't be able to stop Tywin from marching to King's Landing, much less force Tywin's forces at Harrenhal and Darry into submission.

The northern forces were now a non-factor and would only be useful in holding Lord Harroway's Town at best, and Tywin would be able to send forces to and from the Golden Tooth and the capital with no opposition, having close to full control of the River Road. And this wasn't counting on the fact that his host became weaker and weaker by the day. He needed a decisive win over the Lannisters, and fast.

As he continued to look over the endless stretch of tents, he didn't notice a figure coming behind him.

"Worried?" the voice called out.

He jumped in surprise, quickly turning around to face a man whose face he instantly recognized, with his white beard and long hair.

"Uncle Brynden, you startled me." Edmure answered him.

Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, clad in his black scaly armor, just shrugged.

"Walk with me, nephew."

Edmure nodded and followed him down the ramparts, where agitation was building in the courtyard. Men and horses were moving towards the Water Gate, which was bustling with activity, boats being prepared for the journey to the third walls.

"The Lannisters have attacked?" Edmure asked, worried.

"No." The Blackfish answered bluntly. "But the situation is critical now. Thanks to your decision of letting the smallfolk in, our supplies have reached the breaking point. If we could once hold this castle with two hundred men, you letting in seven knows how many smallfolk in has changed this situation drastically."

Edmured frowned.

"I am the Lord of Riverrun. What kind of a lord am I if I cannot shelter, feed and protect my people?"

The Blackfish shrugged once more.

"Since your father died, you are the Lord of Riverrun and the Lord Paramount of the Trident. I am not here to question your decisions regarding your lands, Edmure, but I am the commander in chief of the Riverlander armies, and I did advise you not to let them in to not jeopardize our logistical situation." Brynden sighed. "But what is done is done. Now I'm telling you that our supplies are stretched thin and we could only feed the smallfolk for another week before having to surrender the castle, and I'll be damned if I'll let my childhood home fall without a fight."

Edmure nodded, but quickly made a surprised face.

"Why now, though? You said we still had a week of supplies, why attack now?"

"Ah." The Blackfish answered. "That is my decision to make, but you'll see soon enough."

The older man then gestured him to follow him onto a boat, slowly leaving the walls of Riverrun behind. Edmure looked back with a tear in his eye at the castle where he'd spent his childhood, as it could very well be the last time he ever saw it. His uncle saw that Edmure looked different than usual, and asked him in his usual serious tone:

"Something troubling you, Edmure?" he chuckled. "Your wife's pregnancy troubling you?"

Edmure looked at him surprised.

"Have you not heard? Roslin gave birth a week ago."

"She did? I'm afraid I haven't been focused on family recently." He sighed. "I'm happy for you, Edmure, is it a boy or a girl?"

Edmure just waved him off, as the boat started moving along the still waters along Riverrun.

"If someone has to be sorry, it is me. I just assumed you had much to do, and I wanted to be close to her during these earlier days. In truth I didn't spend much time out of our chambers before going up on the ramparts where you found me. I should've told you Roslyn gave birth to the newest heir to Riverrun."

Edmure had his lot of surprises during his life, but none compared to the day when his father heeded the advice Ned Stark and her sister had given him, to marry him to a Frey girl to link the Tullys with one of their most powerful bannermen. When he heard the news, he'd instantly thought his father to be mad, to marry him off to a Frey, what was he thinking? Those weasels were all suck-ups and that old man Walder was always too ambitious for his own good, having his grandson or great-grandson one day rule Riverrun was a better prize than he could ever deserve. Yet he was forced into it anyways. Uncle Brynden had also opposed the match, but to no avail, both his sister and father supported it, and the wedding was organized in Riverrun.

Seeing the old man Walder was already a torture, the old weasel having gone down to Riverrun especially for the occasion, with his smug smile and ugly face. Edmure couldn't wait for him to kick the bucket, and hoped that was the last time he ever saw him. His family was also insufferable, but he'd been pleasantly surprised by several members. Walder's heir, Stevron, for one, was an intelligent and outspoken man, one that gained Edmure's respect quite quickly. He was quite cunning, but never disrespectful or outright ambitious like his father, Edmure could only wish it was he ruling the Twins.

The young Olyvar Frey was also a nice lad, he had a keen mind for warfare and was good with the sword. And he was an honourable lad, not like the others. That one had gotten Uncle Brynden's eye and he quickly took him under his wing, becoming his squire when Tywin invaded the Riverlands. No doubt Edmure would see him soon enough.

And then there was Roslin. She was small, but young and beautiful, with long brown hair reaching her waist. She was also soft-spoken, gentle and caring. Edmure had thought he'd marry a fat weasel-faced woman, unworthy of a Tully, but instead, he found himself unworthy of her. Never before he'd hoped he'd make a good impression on a woman, but there he was. For the whole wedding ceremony, he'd endured his new family, but the next few weeks had been the happiest in his life, the pinnacle being when Roslin told him she was pregnant. Then war came, and his father died a few days after Tywin crossed the Golden Tooth, leaving him Lord of Riverrun. His uncle Brynden did help with the army and tactics, but he'd been overwhelmed between work, training and family. He just wanted it to end, to be with Roslin and her newborn babe.

Then the boat hit the ground on the other side of the bank, and Edmure snapped out of his reverie, but the Blackfish stood firm in the wooden vessel, refusing to stand up as he eyed Edmure intently.

"You haven't told me, what's the boy's name?"

Edmure smiled, rose and disembarked, setting foot on the grassy soil, before turning to a confused Brynden, who wobbled out of the small boat.

"Brynden. Brynden Tully, heir to Riverrun."

"What?" the Blackfish asked in surprise. "Did…did you…"

"Aye, we named him after you." Edmure said calmly, "besides I told you I would live to see Brynden Tully marry in my lifetime."

Then Edmure saw something unexpected form upon the Blackfish's face. It was a smile, which soon turned into a small laugh.

"I guess a Brynden Tully will indeed marry someday…" his smile quickly died down as he made a gesture to follow him. "But for that to happen we need to win this battle. The Lannisters tried to assault the West Fort yesterday, two hundred men sneaked in during the cover of darkness and tried to overwhelm it."

"Did they succeed?" Edmure asked as he and the Blackfish moved to that position, a small wooden fort reinforced with pikes, trenches and moats.

"If they had, I'd have woken you up in the middle of the night to tell you to gear up." The Blackfish walked to a wooden bridge, seemingly broken, that towered over what looked like a moat. "You might want to cover your nose, the stench is quite unbearable."

Indeed, it was, as Edmure smelt a mix of faeces, piss and whatever other horrendous things men shat out from their bodies. He quickly brought a hand to his nose pinching it tight.

"The West Fort was lightly defended because it overlooked the moat where all the piss, shit and other vomit from the latrines of this side of the river ends up in. It's quite deep, so I wouldn't venture there if I were you." The Blackfish said in a slightly high-pitched voice due to him pinching his nose that made Edmure want to burst out laughing. "The Lannisters therefore saw it as a weak spot, but apparently no one, not even the sellswords wanted to do that job. So, they sent their worst."

Edmure looked at the broken bridge, and turned to the Blackfish.

"Did our men cut off the bridge before they got through?"

The Blackfish shook his head.

"No, the bridge collapsed under the weight of a very large man after a dozen men had overwhelmed the fort, the bridge wasn't meant to hold that much weight. He and a couple others tumbled down there."

Edmure tapped on the wood. Sure, it wasn't solid, but it would be solid enough to hold a dozen people crossing it at a time.

"What kind of man could bring down this bridge? A fucking giant?" Edmure scoffed.

"Close." The Blackfish then reached out for a piece of cloth with his left hand, showing it to Edmure. Edmure gasped in shock as he realized the sigil on the cloth, three black hounds on a yellow field.

"The Mountain." He gasped.

The Blackfish nodded.

"His men got lucky, they managed to wiggle their way out of the moat, got shot by our men the second they got out as we retook the fort." He brushed the cloth aside. "The Mountain that rides wasn't so lucky. His armour and weight made it impossible for him to move around in the goo, he drowned in the piss and faeces of the riverlander army."

"Terrible way to die." Edmure shook his head as he and the Blackfish turned away from the fort and back to the main tent where a cacophony of sounds was heard. Meanwhile the Blackfish remained calm and indifferent.

"Meh." He let out. "You won't see me weeping over him. That man was a monster, I'm sure he's enjoying the deepest pit of the seven hells along with the mad king. Come along now, we have a battle to win."

Edmure nodded and followed his uncle inside the command tent, a large tent capable of hosting two dozen lords, flying the Tully trout. There, all the River lords were waiting, most already in their armour with their personal sigils engraved. His uncle looked around the room, probably to check if no one was missing, and quickly made his way towards the map laid upon the central wooden table, gesturing for the other lords to gather around.

"My lords." His uncle started, in a serious voice. "As you know, our supplies our running short, we cannot possibly hold Riverrun anymore, we have to meet the Lannisters in battle today, hence why I called you all here."

"Where are we to make for?" a voice Edmure identified as Ser Garse Goodbrook called out.

"You misunderstand me, Ser Garse." The Blackfish answered with a scowl. "We do not run. Today we defeat the Lannisters. We've made them bleed out five thousand men already, and I damn well hope to crush Kevan Lannister's forces today."

"The odds are even." Ser Andrey Charlton remarked. "But they'll see us coming with the activity that has been bustling here."

"Which is why I intend this meeting to be as short as possible." The Blackfish answered, before laying his hands on the table. "As it stands, we have ten thousand men north of the Tumblestone, five thousand south of the Red Fork, and another five thousand at the Moat between the two."

The Blackfish scoured the room, sharing a glance with everyone, including Edmure. He only nodded, as his uncle turned to the map, moving the wooden pieces along.

"We'll attack the north side. Aye, it is where most of the Lannisters are located, but it is where we can make the most damage. Their assaults on the forts have been relentless and no doubt much of their host is tired. I'll lead the force with my nephew."

"Shouldn't Lord Edmure be commanding the garrison of Riverrun?" Lord Stevron Frey asked.

Edmure stepped in. "Aye, I am Lord of Riverrun. Therefore, I am your liege lord, and as such I should be fighting with you, not cowering behind the walls waiting for the battle to end." Edmure said sternly, surprising even himself. There was a time where he'd have taken that offer, but not anymore. He was Lord of Riverrun and he was damn well going to make the Tully line proud.

"The young trout shows some spine." Lord Jonos Bracken said, as Edmure just ignored the comment, knowing the Bracken lord wasn't pleased his father chose Roslin Frey over his eldest daughter, Barbara.

"He always had it in him, or do you doubt our liege lord's valor?" Lord Tytos Blackwood countered. Seven hells, of course Lord Bracken's comment would be answered by Lord Blackwoods. Those two have been going at it for generations.

"In any case." The Blackfish cleared his throat, ending the petty discussion between the two "Me and my nephew will lead the host attacking Lord Kevan's forces north of the Tumblestone, along with the northern force's commanders. That means you, Lord Stevron, Lord Tytos, Lord Clement, Ser Robin, Ser Ronald, Lord Patrek, and yes, you too Lord William."

The old lord of Maidenpool winced at the comment. No doubt he'd rather be cowering behind Maidenpool's walls than being here at the moment.

He then turned to Lord Bracken, who gritted his teeth as his name wasn't mentioned.

"Lord Bracken." The Blackfish turned to the Lord of Stone Hedge. "You will have command of the Southwestern forces. Five thousand at your back."

Lord Jonos immediately smiled.

"Do not fear, the Lannisters won't cross the Tumblestone."

"Actually." The Blackfish held his hand up. "I want you to let them cross."

Lord Jonos winced.

"I fail to understand."

The Blackfish rolled his eyes. "I want them to be able to cross, I just don't want them to be alive when they reach the northern shore. When they are sufficiently in the water, rain hell upon them with arrows and strike their rear, cutting off their escape. The chaos you orchestrate should be able to keep these forces at bay. But." The Blackfish held his hand up, staring daggers at the man. "Do not take unnecessary risks for glory or honor's sake. If you let the southwestern forts undefended, the Lannisters will storm them and outflank you, and a quarter of our forces will be gone. No unnecessary risks, have I made myself clear, Lord Bracken?"

"As clear as could be, Ser Brynden." The Lord of Stone Hedge answered as Edmure noticed some pearls of sweat rolling down his face.

"Good." The Blackfish answered. "Now, finally, the command of the East Bank is yours, Lord Vance. The Lannisters shouldn't be able to cross the Red Fork, it is too deep close to the castle. Nevertheless, stop any attempts to outflank us should they arise, this includes crossing the Red Fork from the South. Do not engage their forces though, these ones do outnumber your forces, just hold your forts."

Lord Vance nodded.

"We will hold, Ser Brynden."

"Very well, I think this is everything. As for the main force, Lord Tytos, you will have the left flank, Lord Stevron will command the right and Ser Garse will hold the reserves while I command the centre. Now let's get moving, I want to show the Lannisters what Riverlanders fight like in a proper battle."

The lords all dismissed themselves instantly, running out of the tent to bark out orders to their men or re-join the boats to hurry to their command areas, leaving only Edmure and his uncle in the tent.

"Scared?" the Blackfish asked.

"I'd be lying if I wasn't." Edmure answered honestly as he and the Blackfish exited their tent to put on their armour and saddle up.

"'tis no shame to be scared before a battle. Every man is and copes accordingly. Even those who don't show fear are actually just good at hiding it."

"And are you scared, uncle?" Edmure asked as he put on his helmet.

The Blackfish shook his head. "I've grown past the age of being scared. Now when faced with battle, I rejoice, for death in battle will be a mercy compared to finishing like my brother, suffering alone in a bedchamber." He shook his head again. "No offence meant."

"None taken." Edmure answered. "Father wasn't much of a warrior."

"Nay, he wasn't. I fought his battles for him, and now I'll fight yours. But I'm happy that you are by my side, my brother was never next to mine when I fought his battles." The Blackfish said with a sad smile as he mounted his horse, quickly followed by his squire, Olyvar Frey.

Edmure didn't know how to answer that, and just nodded. His uncle then turned to him, and smiled again.

"Which is why you'll be a good lord of Riverrun, Edmure. Your father didn't care about his people, neither did I to be honest. He only cared about his legacy, and that came by selling his daughters to the highest bidder. In a way, he didn't care about family, unlike you. You know our words, family, duty, honour. Your father only cared about family, and only when it suited him. I must admit I followed these words to the letter, but too bluntly, I always cared about family but nothing else. You…" he turned to Edmure. "You care about much more. You love your family, but you know of your duty to the Riverlands and you are as honourable as it gets. I'm proud to fight with you today."

"Uncle, I'm honoured."

"Stand with me during this battle. I've lived past my time, unfortunately, all the good men have gone, although I'd hoped to fight the war to the north." The Blackfish sighed. "But if I am to die today, let it be by defending the Lord of Riverrun. Stand with me. But promise me, if I tell you to run, you will run. Do not look back and damn well do not try to save me, understood?" the Blackfish said gravely.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Edmure answered. Seeing as this didn't appease the Blackfish, he nodded. "I'll do as you order, on the battlefield, you have command."

The Blackfish nodded as their horses trotted down towards the field where the battle was going to start. Lord Kevan had managed to organize his forces splendidly in a short amount of time, as no less than ten to fifteen thousand westerlanders were aligned before them in good order. Edmure spared a look to his left, as he saw Lord Bracken's arrows already painting the sky above the Tumblestone black.

He turned back to the Blackfish, who gave the signal for both the left and right to move in, as well as most units in the centre. Confused, Edmure turned to his uncle.

"Why aren't we committing the whole centre? We have reserves."

"I'm waiting for a signal." The Blackfish answered cryptically.

Edmure watched as men continued to brawl on the field before them, the sounds of swords clashing becoming closer and closer. Edmure knew what this meant, they were being pushed back. Edmure shot a look to his left, where he saw Lannister men making their way out of the Tumblestone. Before he could say anything, though, his uncle turned to Ser Garse.

"Ser Garse, commit a thousand of our reserves to our left, stop any Lannisters from reinforcing their right! Slaughter them knee deep in water if you have to!"

The knight nodded and shouted orders, a thousand men quickly making their way towards the banks of the Tumblestone, while the rest of the centre stood still. His uncle was visibly unnerved, and Edmure noticed their offensive manoeuvre was failing.

"Uncle, we'll get pushed back towards the forts and to the fucking river itself if we don't act now!" he shouted.

The Blackfish stayed stoic, but his face quickly grew into a scowl.

"Come on, you fucking bastard, give the signal, fucking hurry up…" he mumbled.

Edmure continued to watch the battlefield. The right under the Frey's command was holding strong, but Blackwood's left and now the Mallisters and Tullys in the centre were beginning to break.

"Seven fucking hells, what is the boy doing, fucking his wildling while we fight here?" the Blackfish roared in anger. He turned to Edmure. "Fine, we'll do it without them."

The Blackfish turned and made a call for the rest of the centre to charge, keeping the reserves behind him and motioning Edmure to join.

"We charge now, fuck the signal, we'll be pushed into the fucking river if we don't reinforce them now." The Blackfish lifted his sword and signalled the charge. "For the Riverlands, for Honour and for the King! Charge!"

Edmure didn't know what really happened next. One moment he was standing on top of his horse next to his uncle, the next he was charging with his horse like a madman into the enemy lines. As he hit the Lannister centre, his lance cut through two Lannister footmen, before finally breaking. He looked to his left, where his uncle had already unsheathed his sword and began cutting a path through the Lannister forces.

Then he looked to the sky and shouted with a grin on his face.

"About bloody time!"

Edmure looked up and saw five golden eagles flying over the battlefield, followed by the sound of horses colliding in the distance. The distraction was all it took for him to find himself on the ground though, as his horse was skewered by lances and swords. He found his footing quickly, cutting down three Lannister soldiers who lunged at him, one managing to rip off a piece of flesh on his arm. He looked to his left, seeing his uncle standing strong, cutting down men half his age, with a vigour he'd never seen before, but quickly, he found out that more and more red coats were approaching his uncle.

Edmure roared and cut his way to his uncle, thrashing his sword about, killing or maiming a dozen soldiers before he finally got to his uncle, who was struggling to keep up with a knight with a flaming tree on his armour. Edmure then saw his uncle lose his footing and fall, barely parrying the man's strike. Knowing he couldn't gold much longer against his foe's sword, Edmure lunged forward with his own sword, slicing the man through the throat from behind. Hardly honourable, but fuck it, this was war.

His uncle barely had time to register what was happening, that Edmure pulled him to his feet, but to his surprise, his uncle raised his sword. Edmure blinked in shock, and braced for impact, but his uncle's sword ended up slicing a man ready to cut him down behind him.

"Never let your guard down!" his uncle shouted, picking up his sword and going back to slashing everything resembling a Lannister soldier.

Edmure did the same, furiously slashing around him, all the while calling out enemies to his uncle, who was mindlessly thrashing his sword around.

"Uncle, to your left!" Edmure shouted as a man clad in Westerling colours approached. The Blackfish turned around, his sword and the Westerling knight's clashing, before the Blackfish expertly disarmed the knight, stabbing him in the gut.

"Uncle, to your right!" Edmure shouted once more as another knight in Swyft colours approached. The Blackfish turned around, and with a swiftness Edmure didn't expect from a man of his uncle's age, slashed across the chest of the Swyft knight.

Edmure looked around him as the battlefield darkened, more and more knights and footmen clad in red starting to lose ground. To be fair, he had no idea how long he'd been fighting on the field, but one thing was for sure, they'd beaten the Lannisters back slightly. But more and more just kept coming, why weren't they retreating?

Then amidst the fleeing men, a vision of horror struck him. A beast the size of a horse leapt onto a Lannister soldier, tearing out his throat with a gash of his teeth, its grey fur soaked in blood. The beast turned to face Edmure, its fangs could easily rip him apart. Seven hells, what was a direwolf doing on a battlefield?

He then looked around as the screams died down and the men around him started cheering. They had won. The Lannisters were routed, their army scattered to the winds, with some knights of his retinue giving chase. He focused his attention back to the grey dire wolf, who eyed him intently. Edmure closed, his eyes, scared of what would happen next. Would the beast jump on him and tear him apart, like it did that Lannister soldier?

But he quickly regained his senses. If the beast wanted to attack, it'd have done so already, and soon the meaning of such a beast on the battlefield became clear. Around him were dozens of banners, including that of the direwolf of house Stark. Was it true that the Starks held direwolves as pets? He'd scarcely believed his sister's letter.

"Edmure Tully, I presume?" a man approached him as Edmure sheathed his sword, hastily looking around for his uncle.

"Aye." Edmure answered briefly. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

The man stepped in front of him, accompanied by two tall and bearded men, those ones Edmure wouldn't like to pick a fight with. The man addressing him was tall, aye, but he wasn't as heavily built. He did have curly auburn hair, and a small auburn beard, which made him recognizable. That and the direwolf on his armour.

"My name is Robb Stark." The man answered. "Sorry to disappoint you, we chose to come to your aid instead of being sitting ducks at Darry."

"Well you damn well fucked it all up!" Edmure startled and saw his uncle rise from behind him, blood all over his sword and armour. "What the fuck took you so long?"

The young Stark looked surprised.

"Took so long? I thought we agreed that you'd send in your centre only after the signal, which you did not do."

Uncle Brynden was now seething. "What do you mean? If we'd charged then we would be so close to the fighting that we'd be able to see the colour of the westerlander eyes, and our armies could well have started routing already!"

"And we'd have gotten Lord Kevan and his retinue!" the young wolf protested. "Instead, when he saw our host coming, he had time to escape back to the Golden Tooth."

"I'll take Lord Kevan fleeing over three thousand dead riverlanders any day, boy."

"Three thousand dead today, or five thousand dead tomorrow? Lord Kevan will be able to make it back and raise another host to aid his brother now."

Edmure knew his uncle wanted to answer, but his rage had finally calmed, and he started relaxing.

"We'll speak about this later. In any case, thank you for answering our call. The Lannisters have been defeated, but we need to count our losses, no doubt Tywin will be sending reinforcements here soon."

"Aye." Robb Stark answered. "You're right. We can lay blames later, let us honour and bury or burn the dead today. Your riverlanders fought valiantly, we managed to capture five thousand Lannisters on the Southwestern side. The Eastern forces retreated to Harrenhal though."

His uncle nodded, and made a move to speak, but was interrupted by a large man with a white beard, most of which was soaked in blood. He hurried up to Robb Stark, nodded to everyone, before whispering something in his ear that Edmure couldn't decipher. Robb Stark's face went white at the news, and Edmure thought something terrible had happened.

"You must excuse me my lords, it seems my wife is about to give birth." The young wolf excused himself as he saddled his horse and kicked it back towards the forest where his camp certainly was.

His wife? Edmure thought, what kind of idiot brings his wife into battle? Are the stories true? Did he really marry a wildling as she brought him under a spell of the old gods? He was intrigued and turned to his uncle, who was as shocked as he.

His uncle didn't say anything to him for a few moments, eyeing him intently, before finally laying a hand on his right shoulder.

"You fought well Edmure." He sighed. "Thank you. For saving my life."

"Thank you as well, uncle." Edmure replied. "For you saved mine."

His uncle then did something unexpected, something that hadn't occurred in years, he hugged him tightly.

"I'm proud of you." He whispered. And Edmure smiled for the first time since the battle started.

So this marks the end of Chapter 11. Since the three parts are kind of stupid, I'll just stop with them and make each part its individual chapter from now on, it'll make more sense. In any case next chapter will take us to the Iron Islands, where Theon is already done before hitting the shore.