A/N: Hey guys. Yesterday was the anniversary of the as bad as the Turner Diaries finale of GoT. Fuck you D&D for creating it and burn in hell for eternity.
Anyways, no better way to detoxify the bad memories than by flooding our minds with good GoT content, so here we go!
Be sure to check out my new stories, Bet of Dragons and Dragonshield :D
Enjoy.
Chapter 74: Wolf of Oxcross
As if befitting the turmoil that gripped the Westerlands, a crack of lightning illuminated the warchamber in a flash of white light mere moments before thunder shook the citadel of the Golden Tooth. "And dispatches from our scouts have confirmed Lord Varys' whispers," remarked Leo Lefford, Lord of this keep and the host for the Royal Family. "Prince Rodrik Greyjoy has transferred from Seaguard and is currently commanding the Ironborn division protecting Lannisport."
"Leaving Victarion and Lord Harlow besieging Casterly Rock," the King of Westeros observed, showing off his command of the tactical and strategic facts of the situation. He stroked his chin at the various icons splayed on the map. "It amazes me that they assembled such a powerful land force."
Hand of the King Rhaella Targaryen scowled. "Whispers point to Victarion and Euron's efforts in this regard, though the Ironborn - thank the gods - do not have the same projection power as they did at the time of House Hoare."
"They put all their efforts into dominance of the waves," Lyanna said.
"Aye, that." Rhaella couldn't help but brood. Why are these whispers only coming out now? She wanted to blame Varys - to assign all sorts of malevolent motivation to the man that kept her late husband supplied with all the whispers of 'treason' in court - but there were explanations. Even after Quellon Greyjoy's efforts at cooperation, the Iron Islands were an enigma that frustrated the toughest efforts to infiltrate.
Push my gooddaughter's efforts hard after this. Leave Varys where he was, but create another network. Rhaella hadn't lived the game of thrones for so long to allow matters to fester.
The royals and their top commanders had rode ahead of the main army, only currently transiting the mountain passes into the Westerlands. There waited the top Westerlords not currently barricaded in Casterly Rock - Lord Lefford, Roland Crakehall and his sons, Gawen Westerling, and Addam Marbrand - and Alliser Thorne, Richard Lonmouth, Brynden Tully, and Gerion Lannister of the army they brought with them. A force now doubled with the might of Tywin's domain. "They will undoubtedly know we're coming for Casterly Rock," Gerion observed.
Rhaegar nodded. "Aye, and the Greyjoys will march their entire force to stop us." He traced the main line of approach. "Which is why we divide our forces."
The Westermen looked in concern. "Pardon, your Grace?" asked Lord Westerling.
"We march in twos, myself and the Queen lead one force directly to Lannisport, while my mother leads a force down the Riverroad. That will force Victarion to divide his army rather than keep it unified, weakening him."
Lyanna nodded, seeing her husband's thinking. "They are recent to land combat, and won't be as efficient at fighting without large numbers as we are."
"And smaller formations are more vulnerable to our dragons, that aren't full-sized yet." Looking around, there weren't any dissenters, so Rhaegar dropped his hand - it was decided upon.
Much later, the rainstorm hadn't let up even as the darkness grew once the sun set. All that was left to banish the darkness were a few candles, but for the King and Queen it was enough. Bodies slick with sweat, the worries and fears of the war were nowhere in their minds at the moment as they succumbed to their passions - doing their best to roar louder than the roar of nature.
Rolling her hips, Lyanna took Rhaegar's hand and pushed the strong palm into her breast. "Please… please my love… ahh…" He began kneading the ample flesh, adding yet another tingle of pleasure to the delicious burn of his thrusts. "Right there… don't stop…"
Other hand gripping her hip, Rhaegar strained his legs for leverage in pistoning his length deep inside his she-wolf. Rocking up hard into the Queen as she kneeled astride him - one of the wonders of the world alongside the Wall or the Titan of Braavos in his eyes. "Cum for me, Lya," he urged, gritting his teeth.
"Gahs… yes, I'm close…" Half-lidded, Lya nevertheless looked straight at her husband's eyes. Illuminated in the orange candlelight, his silver hair sparkled. His strong jaw clenched powerfully. Hos violet eyes dark and gorgeous. This was the father of her children. So lucky, she was so lucky… "Fuck…"
He grunted, his spurts emptying in her just as Lya's walls pulsated around him.
Panting, Lyanna collapsed atop her husband, the sounds of their deep breathing the only noises that pierced the silence of the candle-lit bedchamber. Finding a long-healed scar from the days of the rebellion, the Wolf Queen kissed it lovingly. "Never ages, our couplings."
Rhaegar chuckled against her hair. "No, it does not. As wonderful as our wedding night." Their arms encircled each other, enjoying the moment. "I'm taking all of us to Dragonstone after this."
Lya sighed in contentment. "It has been ages since we went there as a family. The children love it there, as do the dragons."
"You truly are a Targaryen now, speaking of dragons in the same manner as our children."
She looked up and grinned at him. "It is lore that Starks of the past bonded with direwolves as the Valyrians did with dragons. If we had such creatures in our care, so too would I speak of them as such."
"So Rhaenys has been asking again?"
"She asks every nameday and all festivals for one, though I am of the same desire, my love." They moved closer, eager to kiss and reignite their passion.
"Kessa…!"
Eyes opening, the King and Queen's eyes shifted to the wall behind them.
From the chambers beyond, the muffled voice cried in desperate Valyrian. "My lion… please… fuck me harder!"
The noise was… entirely familiar. "Rhaegar…" Lyanna said softly. "Didn't your mother obtain the chamber next to ours?"
"Fuck your dragon!" Clearly a wail of a torrid climax. "Kessa, Jaime! Kessa!"
As if there was any doubt left… "Oh, Seven fucking Hells…" Rhaegar groaned, burying his face in her hair in disgust.
Unable to help herself, the Queen covered her mouth as she stifled a giggle. "Seems that Rhaella is enjoying herself."
"It's taking everything in me not to kill that golden cunt," grumbled the King.
"Not this again… you have to enjoy that your mother is finally happy?"
He faced her hard stare with a sigh. "In theory I do, but I'd rather not watch her be… intimate with him with even the little signs of affection." They were careful as befitting propriety, but Rhaegar often stumbled on them in the gardens or the corridors with her arm clutching his, him pressing a kiss on her temple, or his mother smiling adoringly up at him… "Then there's that smug grin he has."
"And what does that have anything to do with this?" Lyanna knew her goodmother adored Jaime's grin.
"Just… when guarding me, he often calls me his 'dear son.'" This time Lyanna couldn't stifle her giggle. He groaned. "It's not funny! Arthur and your brother think it hilarious no matter how much I scold them!"
She continued to giggle. "It is quite funny, my love." He continued to brood, so Lya cupped his cheek. "I'll just have to labor ever harder to kiss that frown off your face." It took a bit longer than normal, but Lyanna's efforts - as always - bore fruit.
Tyrion wanted a drink.
No, the dwarf son of Tywin Lannister needed a drink, staggering from the battlements with his stomach roiling. Boredom had drawn him to the site of the Lannister defense against the Ironborn siege, his father's banners withdrawing into the great Rock after the death of his uncle Tygett and wounding of his uncle Stafford. He was curious, wishing to see what the battle was like.
Big mistake.
Not one minute into his exploration did a succession of flaming projectiles from the catapults of Ironborn siege galleys crash into the battlements. Men were torn apart or awash with flames, the scent of blood and burnt flesh scarring his nostrils. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, basically shoved him out and Tyrion was more than happy to oblige.
Damn father and his rations… To conserve the stores of food, Tywin ordered all in the keep to the bare sustenance - including but one pint of wine a day. Since Tywin wasn't the sort of gluttonous Lord, he made sure his family obeyed the dictat… leaving Tyrion sober.
He did not like that.
"Please… Robb… sleep." Tyrion blinked, having now found himself in the residential quarters. Cersei. The sound of the attacking projectiles was a dull thud, but still loud. Wordlessly, he approached the door to the nursery - where Cersei's voice came from.
Even as the tiny crack of the door remained open enough for Tyrion to hear, he still pressed his ear upon it. The whispers were soft, Cersei's voice joined by that of his nephew. "Make it stop, momma," Robb whimpered, undoubtedly hugging his mother.
"I wish I could, cub," Cersei replied, her voice haggard - almost broken. "The armies will be here soon. The squids will be driven back into the sea."
"Poppa?"
The single word of Robb's made Tyrion's heart ache, as it undoubtedly did for Cersei. Robb didn't speak often of his father, Ned Stark - he always managed to avoid telling his nephew that which he was not familiar with, which was most. Gods know what Cersei told him. Tywin forbid discussion of Ned in his presence.
Cersei's voice caught in anguish, but she kept her composure. "I hope so." Move on, Cersei… for you as well as Robb… "Have I ever told you about the greatest of your ancestors?"
"Yes… Lann the Clever and Lancel the Lion! And grandfather." Tyrion chuckled sardonically at the boy's idolization of Tywin. I hope he never knows the Lord Tywin we all did.
"No, your poppa's ancestors." The dwarf's eyes widened, listening more intently. "Of the greatest of all the King's of Winter, Theon the Hungry Wolf."
Robb was silent, likely entranced.
"It was the Andal invasions," Cersei began. "Theon took the throne after the death of his father, Benjen IV, at the hands of the Andal conqueror Argos Sevenstar. Barely a man, he nevertheless forged an alliance with the greatest foes of your father's house… the Bolton Red Kings, and marched to confront Argos just before the ancient keep of Winterfell."
Tyrion was completely shocked. How in seven hells does she know this? When did Cersei care about anyone besides their own house? Somehow, she could still surprise him.
"Did he win, momma?" Robb asked, voice trembling.
"Aye, a great victory. Barely eight and ten, Theon defeated Sevenstar in single combat as the men of the north slaughtered the invading army."
"Wow…" Tyrion chuckled at the boy's awe.
Cersei kissed Robb's brow. "But surrounded by enemies on all sides, Theon did something that made every man and woman in Westeros and Essos tremble. Tying the defeated Argos to the prow of his ship, the entire might of the North sailed the Narrow Sea and attacked the Andal homeland of Andalos. They…" How was she to censor the goriest parts? "They struck such fear into the hearts of their foes that for centuries after, no Andal could think of House Stark and not shudder in terror at their might."
Voice soft… heavy with sleep, Robb still looked up at his mother. "Is poppa like that?"
The Rock of Harrenhal. Ned had certainly made a name for himself. "Yes, cub, he is." She stroked his hair. "You are of a proud and mighty mix of bloodlines, Robb. The blood of Lann the Clever and Theon Stark. Never fear, never despair, never allow those inferior to bring terror to your heart. Roar like a lion and howl like a wolf." There was no response, for Robb had fallen asleep - the thoughts of his illustrious ancestors and their current representation in the father he never knew comforting his troubled heart. "I love you, my son. Sleep well."
Tyrion tore himself away from the scene, anything more and his heart would burst. For the briefest of moments the dwarf imagined Cersei's voice to be his late mother's… the mother he would never know or even hold a memory of, and he couldn't take it. "I need wine." Perhaps he could persuade one of the kitchen maids for a double ration…
"N'uncle Tyrion?"
The sudden voice made him jump, but Tyrion composed himself. "Oh, Pod." Young Podrick Payne was the heir to father's most favored bannermen, but orphaned, he remained at Casterly Rock as Tywin's ward and Robb's playmate. Effectively Tywin's third son, but Tywin wasn't the warmest of fathers, so he was drawn to Tyrion. "Can't sleep either?"
Pod shook his head. "Loud." Another projectile happened to slam against the walls of the Rock, making Pod cringe and cover his ears.
"Come here." He wrapped his arm around the boy, who was still shorter than him - not for long though. "Let's get you to the kitchens. Maybe we can sweet talk one of the maids into dipping into the food stores." One way or another, the dragons are coming. This won't take long to end.
With one slice of his meaty fist at his armrest, Robert Baratheon sent a loud thunk echoing through the cavernous great hall of Storm's End. "It is settled then!" Laughing gregariously, he grabbed Stormbreaker - which had been leaning against the throne once sat upon by Durrandon Kings. "We march to war!" The more martial of the Stormlords in Robert's court whooped as their lord did.
For Davos Seaworth, he watched with the other Targaryen naval emissaries with a stony facade. He never met the Lord of Storm's End before, but the rumor mill was not kind to Robert. Marya had oft relayed to him in their private conversations the various insults the royal family dished out on the Stag. Queen Elia's words alone would have caused his father to beat him senseless for a 'smart mouth,' let alone what Lyanna or Rhaella were reported to say about the man that led Aerys' armies for him.
And the knight of Sea Lion Point discovered by that moment that all of what was said had validity… though he still wouldn't use the profanity. Brash, loud, uncouth, and utterly unserious about anything not involving cracking an enemy's skull. "You, Seaworth?"
Davos blinked and met the eyes of Lord Robert. "Yes, my Lord?"
"I was told that you were recommended to your post… to Rhaegar by my Lyanna?"
He tightened his fists at the possessive rendering of the Queen. As a man that beat back many other suitors for the hand of his wife - and a first hand knowledge of the Queen's devotion to both Rhaegar and Elia - he took the matter personally. "I was, yes. She trusts in my judgement in spite of my lack of experience." But he was smart enough to be diplomatic.
Robert clapped his hands together. "If my Lyanna believes it so, then I shall trust you." Completely stubborn and delusional. Queen Lyanna hadn't wavered on those points even as the profanity changed. "Stannis!"
Rising, the brother of the Lord stood. "Yes, Robert?"
"Deal with whatever this man wants, with my ships or otherwise. I have banners to call and squid to kill." With that, he was up - hefting Stormbreaker menacingly as he sang a war song from the Durrandon days, followed by the knights and other retinue that gathered in the keep.
"Forgive my brother," Stannis observed as they entered the private solar of the Lord. It was officially supposed to be Robert's, but the spartan appearance indicated to Davos that was far more Stannis' domain. "He can be a bit… eager."
"Not the word I would use, my Lord, but I'll refrain."
Stannis offered the tiniest of smiles. The way his lips curled, it was clear he didn't smile much. "A drunken, whoring oaf you mean? Aye, I've heard it all."
Davos raised a brow. The lad, likely no older than two and twenty, was the opposite of Robert but for the coloring. Lean and toned rather than beefy, his eyes bore a serious outlook - one of dedication, that earned respect rather than amity. "I was speaking more of how he referred to the Queen."
The younger Baratheon sucked in a breath. "Aye, that."
"I am to understand he hasn't yet taken a wife."
"That is true." Stannis took a seat adjacent to Davos, uncomfortable. "No woman and he have… connected past the basest sense. As of now, I am his heir… and apparently his naval commander."
Davos nodded. "Can you sail?"
"My parents died at sea, Ser Davos - I made it a point after that fact to master the art of sail so that my future children never endure the torment I went through."
"That is… a wise answer." The cause of the man's hardened attitude was obvious, one in which Davos could relate. But it was ultimately too… deep for the moment. "How many ships can you supply, Lord Stannis?"
Based on his reaction, he was glad to move on to matters of war as well - his reputation during the Rebellion was one of skill and competence and it showed. "Twenty galleys and fifteen carracks."
"The galleys… biremes or triremes?"
"Both. Our triremes were designed to fight pirates while the biremes are trading vessels."
"We'll have to convert them."
Stannis cracked a tiny grin. "I already gave the order as soon as hostilities commenced. They are all ready for battle."
Davos snorted. Mayhaps there was one Baratheon that didn't measure up to the Queen's low opinion of the house.
Staggering back from her private privy, Elia cupped her stomach gingerly. Not again… not now… While neither maester in her service had confirmed, the Queen's instincts were never wrong. With her loves marching off to war for gods' knew how long…
Don't jump to conclusions. It could always have been just a stomach malady.
Who are you kidding…?
"Muna?" Sitting up from his claimed play area, her son headed to her side - hugging her. "You alright?"
Straightening her posture, Elia placed a hand on Prince Baelon's hair. "I'm alright, Jon. I promise. Just a… something I ate."
The bright violet eyes of his father looked up at her. Innocent and concerned. "Kepa always say a hug go away the oowies." Jon reached up. "I's make better, muna."
Heart clenching from his supremely innocent, loving declaration, Elia fought the tears welling up in her eyes. Emotional… another sign of… She shook her head of the thoughts, guiding Jon to her desk and immediately pulling him onto her lap. "Thank you, my son," Elia breathed, hugging him tight. The dragonwolf had none of her features or blood, but he was hers in every way that mattered. "It did make me feel better."
Matters of state could wait a moment. Nothing ordinary in Elia's schedule took importance over her children.
While comforting her, slowly Jon's embrace turned into one seeking comfort. Elia wanted to ask, but waited. Letting him be the one to seek her out. "Muna?" There it was. "You knows I's strong dragon."
"Of course you are." Elia pulled back and nuzzled Jon's nose, making him smile. "You're just like your kepa." For her and Lya, such was the greatest of praise.
"I want be strong." Normally the bright Crown Prince was good with his sentences, but when distressed he tended to lisp. "But… I no King. Kepa King."
Her brows knit together. "Where is this coming from, sweetling?"
Jon bit his lip. "N'uncle Vis… he say kepa may fall to Squid, then I's King." He searched in Elia's eyes for comfort. "N'uncle Arthur and muna with kepa. They pick him up so I's no King, right?"
The boy still didn't understand the concept of death - the entire family keeping it away from him and Dany and Egg until they could truly grasp it - but the message was clear. Viserys… That boy would be the death of the entire family, Elia figured. "Your uncle shouldn't have told you that. Kepa and muna will return with grandmother, and the squids will be defeated, I promise." Jon, ever trusting, just smiled and hugged her chest, head resting on her bosom by chance… his father and mother's favorite spot.
I will need to have a word with Viserys. A very long one, where Elia would struggle to restrain her temper.
Without announcement, the door opened. Ser Oswell would have only let in a few certain people without informing her… seeing Maester Aemon shuffle in, it was clear why he didn't. "N'uncle Aemon!" Jon loved his great-uncle - all the children did.
"Where my eyes fail me, my ears never do," Aemon chuckled. While his chains were still draped about his robes, he did away with the normal dark burlap in favor of red trousers and a pitch black robe… the colors of his house. While a studious man before, the image was made just a bit fiercer with the Targaryen hues. "It's time for your lessons, Prince Baelon. Princess Daenerys and Prince Aegon are already there." Rhaenys, being much older, had separate lessons.
Jon pouted. "I wanna stay with muna."
While Elia fought a giggle, Aemon had a point. "Pup, you need to go learn with your aunt and brother." He looked to argue, but she shushed him. "For me. Please?"
He lowered his head. "Alright, muna. I do for you." Without further question, he climbed off Elia's lap and - pausing only to hug his great-uncle - headed out of the room to where Ser Lynn waited to escort him to the classroom.
Elia sighed. "There exists no sweeter boy in the entirety of the earth," she smiled, leaning back in her chair.
Aemon laughed. "Reminds me of my younger brother. Such a kind, exuberant lad without a malevolent thought. My kepa wasn't any of that, and my older brother inherited that very attitude without any of the stoicism." He closed his eyes, the thought of his family bringing him pain. "Prince Baelon would do well to take after my great-nephew."
"He will." Elia looked up at him. "But aren't his lessons a bit too… strenuous for a boy Jon's age, or Dany?"
"Baelon and Daenerys are keen and clever. Close to prodigy - that has to be nurtured early or they either become Aegon the Unworthy or Aegon Dragonbane."
No impulse control or no self-confidence. Lecher versus a… well, a bastard. The thought of Jon as either of those brought Elia to shudder. "Very well." She sighed. "I could actually use an experienced hand in this. Mind coming here?"
"Of course, great-niece." Aemon shifted to the chair across the desk from Elia. "I was old enough to remember my grandmother in her twilight years. While I went blind before seeing you, everything else reminds me of her."
Elia blinked. Myriah Martell, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. A role model of hers growing up. "What was she like?"
"Sweet, but strong underneath. One had to be in the court of the Blackfyre Rebellion period - hate of Dornish was high. Not that the Dornish didn't deserve it on occasion, but she didn't. The most wonderful of souls." He had a wistful look about him. "My uncle's death at the hands of my kepa destroyed her. Died shortly after."
The Tourney at Ashford Meadow. A tale known all over the Seven Kingdoms. "That shall not happen with my children."
"Tessarion be good, they won't." He smiled. "Now, what do you need my help on?"
Looking at the papers before her, Elia found the ones she was perusing before her stomach roiled. "It concerns something my birds have told me… about Euron Greyjoy. He's… disappeared."
"Sources of your own?" Aemon wanted to explore further, but demurred. "Most Ironborn aren't hard to decipher. They are open and flagrant with their efforts… Euron is different. I suppose he's planning something."
"That's my supposition. The Iron Fleet has captured the Shield Islands and thus, an invasion of the Arbor or Oldtown is on the table… but Ashara relayed to me a message from her brother, Lord Alaric. A Dayne patrol found the remnants of what seems to be a cache of supplies on the coastline near Starfall."
Aemon pursed his lips. "It seems the Ironborn wish to raid in the Narrow Sea. Your brother should be warned."
She began to scribble an order. "Lord Bonifer Hasty intends to muster his Holy Hundred to march to war. I intend for them to guard the Red Keep… best not be too careful."
"Bonifer Hasty?" Aemon asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, he fought with Rhaegar in the rebellion… quite well from what I've heard. Is there a problem?"
Thinking for a moment, Aemon ended up shaking her head. "No, no problem." She isn't here, there won't be a worry there.
The weather was chilly that day as the sun began its rise behind the mountains to the east. Not cold enough to make one shiver but enough to nip at a person's nose. Luckily for the two least suited to such weather, there was a ready-made solution to the vexing problem.
"Easy, my sweet," Dowager Queen Rhaella Targaryen whispered to her mount Jaimexes. She stroked the warm scales of her neck, enjoying the heat seeping through her black leather riding armor. "Stay calm, girl, you will need your level head for today."
No need, muna. They won't touch us in the sky.
Rhaella sighed, a more dutiful child she could never ask for, but still brash with youth. "Caution and a sense of one's mortality go a long way." The dragon let loose a snort from its nostrils, but didn't challenger her statement. Rhaella patted the scales. "She isn't yet large enough to worry not of normal arms."
"I know not of the depths of your bond, but her inexperience is augmented by yours," replied the voice behind her.
Smiling softly, she turned - gazing at her lover. He dressed in the white cloak and black armor of the Targaryen Kingsguard. Handsome as anything, especially with his golden hair in the sun. "Your confidence serves to heighten my ego, Ser Jaime, so perhaps you should quit before I grow too imperious for you." Being around him made her feel younger than anytime in the last two decades, and she loved it.
Jaime stepped towards her, gauntlets gripping her waist. "I happen to enjoy such an attitude very much." The twinkle in his eyes left nothing to interpret.
She leaned up and kissed him, their lips melding. What had been simple lust soon turned into something more… intimate. Searching, begging but with their passion. Even as they broke apart - alone amongst the grassy fields behind the main army on the southern side of the rolling bluffs close to the rolling hills of Castamere - Jaime still rested his forehead against hers. "Come back to me," she whispered.
"Only if you reciprocate."
"Done." One last kiss before Rhaella made her way to Jaimexes, climbing the short distance to her back. Rhaella was as tall as the beast's graceful neck, her dragon just large enough to carry her into the air. She looked down at Jaime, smiling at his now helmeted form before saying the words. "Soves."
By the ironies of war, at that same moment fifty miles to the south, the second of the royal Targaryen armies marched to face the Ironborn before the town of Oxcross. Unencumbered by matters of propriety, King Rhaegar openly embraced his beloved Queen before the lines of the crack household guard. They cheered for their King and Queen, whistles and roars erupting from their throats as the two shared a passionate kiss.
Rhaegar eventually pulled back, frowning slightly. "Is it strange that I feel quite violated by this?"
"I wouldn't say no," Lyanna giggled. In her full set of armor, the noise contrasted greatly with the overall fierce impression she gave. "But this is fine… our bedroom stays private though."
"That is a given." They smiled at each other, only for the gravity of the situation to arrive like a ton of bricks. Rhaegar embraced her tightly. "Be careful."
A tear fell from Lyanna's eye. Damn emotional mess. "You be careful… I can't lose you, husband."
"Nor I." Another kiss, and another cheer from the army.
As Rhaegar ascended into the air, Lyanna mounted Winter, the horse neighing her greeting. "Commanders, to your posts," she ordered Thorne, Bronn, and Roland. "You know what to do."
"Yes, your Grace."
Each galloped off, leaving Lyanna alone with Arthur, Benjen, and Gerion Lannister. Horns blew, pickets having found the Ironborn army marching forward for battle from their camp to the still dark west. "And so it begins," said Arthur. His last battle in the castle of his childhood was enough to last a lifetime, but beside his Queen he would give his life.
"The beginning of the end, one way or another," said Queen replied. A snicker left Benjen's lips, to which Lyanna quirked a brow. "And what is so amusing."
Benjen tilted his head at her, smirk on his lips. "Just a thought I never figured I would hold… namely I worry whose wroth I would find more vengeful upon me if you fell on the field of battle. Your husband's, or your wife's?" At that, Gerion Lannister was in an open guffaw, while even Arthur chuckled.
Lyanna rolled his eyes. "I don't intend to die today." Her babes needed her, as did her loves. Wordlessly, she donned her helm, twin dragon wings rearing up to either side and a snarling direwolf jutting from the crest. Out she drew Wolfsbane, levelling it at the hills just south of Oxcross village. "Forward! Fire and Blood!"
"FIRE AND BLOOD!"
The Ironborn army was divided. Committed to hold the siegeworks at Casterly Rock while operations to the north were concluded, the sudden arrival of Rhaegar's army had both Lord Rodrik Harlow and Prince Rodrik Greyjoy marching with their own hosts towards the enemy to meet them at Oxcross. But in the wee morning hours, the bluffs south of the city were captured by Queen Lyanna, ending hopes for a quick victory.
House Targaryen had the initiative, to which both flanks under Lord Alliser Thorne and Lord Leo Lefford began their assaults on the second series of bluffs, covered by King Rhaegar atop his dragon.
To the north, the royal forces anchored themselves before the ruined fortress of Castamere with the Westermen on the left and center and the Blackfish on the right - an irony that Jaime Lannister quite appreciated to his chagrin. To the Westermen, many of them veterans of that conflict, it served as inspiration and groups of fiddlers began renditions of the Rains of Castamere. It greatly served to boost their morale.
Facing them were the twelve thousand men of Victarion Greyjoy's personal command, having marched north from the siege lines to take Ashmark… only to run into the royal army swelled with the banners of House Crakehall and Marbrand. In the van were the mounted forces… joined by an anachronism from the days of Harwyn Hoare's conquest of the Riverlands… chariots. Victarion used them well in his encirclement of Casterly Rock, and intended to use them here as well.
Before his infantry could arrive, he ordered a full charge. Whooping, the Ironborn charioteers and horsemen threw themselves at the gathered Targaryen forces…
Only to meet their deaths as hails of arrows - unlike before, the bowstrings dry and taut - and dragonfire from the recently arriving Jaimexes and Queen Rhaella to envelop them in a slaughterhouse of fire and steel. What few that didn't retreat were cut down by spears and swords. Enraged at the sight, Victarion ordered another charge as his infantry arrived. Blinded by fury, he didn't wait for them to actually form up before committing them.
"Loose!" At Lyanna's command, the archers let loose another volley, iron discipline of the elite longbowmen presenting a proper dueling partner with the Ironborn naval archers. "Fire at will! Pour it on!"
Riders with the banners of House Bell rode up, in the center of them being the Lord of Rook's Rest himself. "Your Grace," the former sellsword announced with a bow - a sprinkling of dried blood marred his surcoat, but he looked no worse for wear otherwise. "We've taken the central bluffs overlooking the Riverroad."
Lyanna nodded. "Good, Lord Bronn. Now…" She didn't finish her order as the green specter of Aegarax swept over the crest of the hill - none of the Targaryen guardsmen cringed or flinched even as the dragon flew low in its approach, so well were they trained to the Sunrise Dragon's presence. No sooner did Aegarax land did Rhaegar leap off his back. "Rhaegar…"
He greeted her with but a squeeze of the shoulder. "Lya, Thorne is in trouble."
"What, why?!"
"Fool attacked out of order and found himself trapped. Lord Bronn, send your cavalry to relieve his position."
Bronn blinked. "But what of the center, your Grace?"
One look shared with Lyanna had them both in agreement. "The reserves with me. Full attack through the center." Her tone was completely authoritative, leaving no room for dissent. "Until the battle is won, your Grace." She already had mounted Winter as Rhaegar remounted Aegarax.
"Until then, your Grace." He blew her a kiss and then was airborne.
Miles away, Jaime blinked in astonishment as the Ironborn readied another charge. "They can't possibly think of trying it again?" mumbled Tybolt Crakehall, heir to House Crakehall.
"That's Victarion Greyjoy's personal banner," his brother Lyle remarked to his right, gazing through the spyglass. "He's at the center this time."
"Three separate assaults and he's still coming for us? Yeah, that's Victarion Greyjoy for you." Jaime wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow before lowering his visor. Ironborn warcries boomed across the landscape as the Greyjoy line surged forward - chariots and the odd horseman mixed in with the berserkers and reavers. He glanced behind him to see the golden form of Rhaella's mount looping around, as if broadcasting to him her intentions. "At my command, full attack!" he called out.
"Ser Jaime…?"
"Sound the herald, ready for attack! Archers, fire at will!"
The berserkers, led in person by the axe-wielding Kraken Prince, didn't flinch to their credit. Oft plied with stimulant drinks and hallucinogenic mushrooms that grew in the soggy caves of the Iron Islands, they raised their shields and plowed through the waves of arrows. Froth gurgled from their mouths in the pure fury they deployed against those that had broke their cavalry and infantry in the last three attacks…
Arrows didn't faze them, but dragonfire did. Jaimexes may have been small and unable to create a second field of fire, but her tongues of flame did immolate dozens in her attack run across the center of the Greyjoy line, staggering the attack. Something Jaime was waiting for. "CHARGE!" he screamed, Brightroar flashing in the noonday's son. "BY THE GODS, CHARGE!"
"URRA!" Forward the Westermen charged, joined by the Crownlands banners of Lonmouth and Tully, hurling themselves on foot against the reeling berserkers.
Frequently had the Ironborn charged well entrenched positions and they were good at it. But never had they endured a countercharge directly upon them with as equal a fury, only now motivated by hate rather than greed and hallucinogens. Jaime could see it in their eyes, the sense of surprise and terror as Valyrian steel hacked through mail and leather alike. One snarled, bashing him in the chest with his shield before trying to stab forward with a short sword. But Jaime was quick. He leapt back and hacked off the man's outstretched arm. The reaver screamed, but his pain ended when Brightroar caved his head.
"Ser Jaime!" He just managed to evade the swung axe. "We meet again!" Victarion Greyjoy was before him, hair blowing in the wind and fire in his eyes. "This time you die!"
"Oh squid," Jaime laughed, charging. Brightroar meeting his axe till they were in each other's faces. "A cat has nine lives," he whispered menacingly. "While Krakens die out of water." With a strength belied by his handsomeness, the knight swung a right hook, catching Victarion in the jaw and sending him reeling.
It was a blur for Lyanna. Her first true clash, one that years of sparring and training were supposed to prepare her for… but couldn't come close to the reality. Rhaegar and Ned warned of it, and the brush with death at the hands of the Essosi sellsword at Starfall only happened to hammer it home. And here she was, charging at full tilt for the Ironborn lines following the crest of the bluffs. Alongside her were Arthur and Benjen, among a thousand crack cavalry of the Household Guard. Three thousand infantry followed behind, ready to support them.
Everything passed by in snippets. Benjen, her brother howling like a wolf. Wolfsbane, the blade glinting in the morning sun. A grasshopper leaping off a blade of grass, as if sensing the coming charge. Winter's tongue sticking out of her mouth, panting as she exerted herself. Aegarax, roaring as he unleashed a tongue of flame atop the milling Ironborn…
And then madness.
The Targaryen charge crashed right into the Ironborn formation, rolling over the front ranks as bodies rocketed back, twisted and broken from the force of the cavalry onslaught. Lyanna acted on instinct, screaming like a banshee and swinging hard with her blade. Valyrian steel struck true, slicing through leather and mail alike. Blood gushed from the wounds inflicted on the reavers around her, torsos sliced and shoulders hacked into.
A man charged her with a spear, but Lyanna maneuvered Winter quickly… allowing her to slice off the tip before a second swing beheaded the man. Quickly looking to her sides, she saw Benjen hacking at the enemy still astride his destrider. Arthur had been knocked from his horse, but was at no disadvantage - both blades were out, a fast-paced rush of swings and parries that took on half a dozen at once.
There was no time to dally, Lyanna narrowly missing an axe swing that knocked off her helm. "What buggery is this?!" a large Ironborn exclaimed, shocked that the beautiful face of a woman faced him.
The moment's hesitation was gone in an instant, but not before Lyanna slashed at him. The axe blocked it, but Lyanna doubled back with a spin and thrust… impaling him through the gut.
And as suddenly as the slaughterhouse began, Lyanna pulled Wolfsbane from the dying reaver to witness an all-encompassing quiet. There was a stillness about the field, men still living hunched over or collapsed in exhaustion on the ground. Lyanna couldn't blame them truly. Aegarax roared from the sky in triumph as the Queen spotted the columns of Ironborn retreating towards distant Lannisport.
Pursue they could, but their victory was total. Only misfortune could befall those so bold as to be brash.
Dismounting, the flaps of Aegarax circling round the hilltop, Lyanna gazed out at the vast battlefield. Corpses were strewn everywhere - every manner of broken, gutted, or decapitated bodies littering the once beautiful field of grass. Ironborn outnumbered their own colors by about three to one, but in death all men became one. The coppery tang of blood reached her nostrils, mixed with shit and piss. A sudden wooziness came about her…
Lyanna bent over, clutching her belly as she voided her stomach all over the grass.
"Your Grace…!"
"Sister!"
Both Arthur and Benjen rushed to her side, but were beaten there by the King, his comforting touch immediately encircling Lyanna. "Lya?" he asked with concern, no other words necessary.
She groaned. "I'm… I think I'm fine." The bile scorched her throat and disgusted her tongue. "Water… need water…" Her brother passed her a water gourd, which was eagerly drained… half-swallowed while the rest was gargled and spat out. "Gods… I don't know what came over me."
"You're alive and unharmed. That's what matters." Rhaegar tugged her to him and cupped her cheek. Lyanna sighed happily at reuniting with her love, and their lips met in a frantic kiss - as if proving to themselves that they were unharmed.
A second roar surprised them, the couple breaking their kiss as Jaimexes landed out of nowhere. A fatigued but satisfied Rhaella slid off the back of the dragon. "I take it we won here as well?"
Lyanna was too exhausted to laugh, but speak she did. "Close run at times, but decisive."
"Was never in doubt at Castamere," Rhaella shrugged. "Jaime fought Victarion Greyjoy, ending up wounding him, but they got away. Killed half their number but their ships evacuated the rest. Our dragons are too small for unlimited dragonfire reserves." All could see Aegarax and Jaimexes curling up beside each other, close to collapse. Rhaella looked on in sympathy before eying Lyanna - and the blood on her armor and trousers. "Any of that yours?"
"No. Squids can't fight on land worth a damn… they can only triumph by drowning their prey, cowards they are." Blood soaking her entire outfit, she crinkled her nose. "Fuck… get this squidblood off of me!" The moistness was getting irritating.
Rhaegar glanced in the distance, barely making out the top of the great mountain fortress in the distance. "We'll bathe in Casterly Rock," he said matter of factly.
Little did they know the surprises old Tywin Lannister had in store for them within his keep.
A/N: Lyanna makes her battle debut. Visenya would be proud!
Poor Rhaegar, having to deal with his muna getting hot sex all the time and her lover flaunting it around him. Lucky Rhaella, but poor Rhaegar XD
Cersei is a good mother.
Jon still being adorable as fuck... and I guess jolly old Aemon is adorable as well.
Drop a review and be sure to check out Dragonshield and Bet of Dragons; if I get 25 comments for this story, I'll update in a week :D