Lord Commander Theon Stark
Yet another war, yet more destruction. Sometimes, Theon did wonder if there would ever be any peace, and then he would remind himself of the vow his brother had sworn to their elder brother. Daemon Blackfyre had been dead for neigh on forty years now, and yet his ghost still haunted the seven kingdoms. Theon knew he certainly he haunted his brother and king's dreams and perhaps waking hours. With each failed Blackfyre war, Theon had watched his brother spiral more and more into his obsession, his desire to seat one of their brother's descendants on the throne outweighing all else. Daeron was lucky his lords would die for him so willingly; otherwise he was likely to have seen a mass revolt on numerous occasions.
Still the north had thrown back an invasion from the southerners led by Lords Mallister and Rivers. Both men were dead now, their bodies rotting somewhere in the swamps of the neck, and the north had marched southwards. At the Twins supplies had been given to them by young Walder Frey, now married and with children of his own, all three of them weasly just like their father. From the Twins they had learnt of the fight between the black dragon's supporters in the riverlands and the Targaryen's supporters. Lords Shawney, Butterwell, Ryger, Smallwood, Vance and Potts had all rebelled and fought a feisty battle with the royalists, the result a retreat and a stalemate.
Theon had seen his brother's eyes go hard as ice then, and so they had marched with great haste burning as they went, and then a battle had been fought outside the walls of Stone Hedge, and on Barbra's Teats, they had fought the Brackens and the Darrys and the Mootons and won. Lord Bracken was given over to Quentyn Blackwood, and the Blackwoods finally had justice for the toll their enemies had exacted on them some years ago. But there was no rest, not yet atleast, from there they had marched for Riverrun, and outside the gates of Riverrun had fought a host led by Lord Robin Tully. The battle had been brief but bloody, Theon had slain so many men that day that he still sometimes saw red when he slept or even closed his eyes. And yet they had emerged victorious and Riverrun was now theirs, though Aegon Blackfyre had ordered it pulled down brick by brick, and so that was what had kept them at the fish's fortress for so long.
Other news had reached them brought to them by Ser Borros Hill and his Westerlords. The bastard of Castamere spoke in neutral tones as he told of them of the fight between Lord Lannister and Lord Rodrick Greyjoy on the Sunset Sea, of Greyjoy's death and the Ironborn's retreat. He told them of how he had fought the Lannisters and their allies at Lions' Claw, and won slaying Tion Lannister and holding the new lord of the Rock hostage at the Tooth. Borros Hill and his men had bent the knee to Aegon Blackfyre, in exchange for more gold and plunder and a legitimization for Hill, something Aegon had been more than willing to give him.
More news began to float in the longer they spent at Riverrun watching the castle being knocked down. The reacherlords loyal to the Targaryens had fought a great battle with the Golden Company and those reacherlords led by Lord Harrold Osgrey in the land just east of Highgarden. The Black Dragon's supporters had won, and Lord Garse Tyrell was now a prisoner in Goldengrove, the Golden Company and the reacherlords were marching north to meet up with them now. Though they had all heard of how the Dornishmen had finally mustered and moved from the Prince's Pass, the Dornish snakes only had 5,000 men though Lord Yronwood managing to keep his allies out of the fight for now.
He looked at the woman sleeping beside him in the bed and smiled slightly. Jeyne had never looked so beautiful to him as she did in that moment, her hair spread-eagled on his chest, he had loved her since they had both been children, and she had loved him since they had been growing as adults. They had joined the Winter's Guard to avoid having to marry anyone, and so had kept to their affair, before breaking it off due to fear of shaming the King and the reputation of the guard they held so dear. But now, now they were older and wiser and coming closer to death, and so they cared not, their sworn brothers and sisters said nothing and the king chose not speak of it.
The Queen had remained in Winterfell, Theon remembered, to help Prince Jonnel rule Winterfell and the north whilst her husband was in the south. Two of their sons Jorah and Brandon were fighting in the south alongside Theon and Daeron, Brandon was in the Winter's Guard and had proven himself at Riverrun, Jorah fought like Daeron and had proven himself as well. And then there was Aegor, the crown prince to the north, bitter and bold and so much like Daeron that both of them were at loggerheads more often than not. Though Theon knew his brother loved Aegor fiercely, he had a hard time explaining that and his obsession only made things worse.
He heard the stirring in the camp, and got out of bed, Daeron must have called for camp to be broken. Jeyne stirred as well and so they both got dressed and made love one more time, and then they walked out of their tent and saw what the commotion was. Riverrun's walls were falling down more and more, bit by bit, the Blackfyre lad was standing there admiring his orders, and the Tullys or what was left of them were watching from the prisoner's camp. Theon felt sorry for them, they had not asked for this, for another war and a vengeful Blackfyre, black or red the boy still seemed to be slightly mad like his ancestors, and that worried Theon even if Daeron could not see it.
"Nuncle," he heard his nephew Brandon say. "Father is looking for you. He wants you in the command tent."
Theon sighed, kissed Jeyne on the cheek and then walked towards the tent which had the sigil of House Stark flapping from its top, a grey direwolf and a grey dragon combatant. He entered and found Daeron already present along with their cousin Edwyle, Lords Umber, Manderly, Ryswell, Glover, Dustin, Karstark, Dreadstark, Berstark, Cassel, Blackwood and the mountain clan chieftains were all there from the north. From the Westerlands, Borros Hill, Lords Lydden, Crakehall, Vikary, Westerling, Marbrand, Banefort, Brax and Tarbeck were present. Daeron cleared his throat and then spoke. "Our scouts have returned and reported that the Arryns are moving down towards Harrenhal in the east. There has been fighting between the Reacherlords and the Stormlords, as well their flames can be seen for miles around. Maekar rides with his host as well. War shall soon be here."
"I say we march now and deal with the false king." Lord Crakehall said his voice booming.
"That is what Maekar wishes for us to do you fool." Lord Karstark said. "He wants us drawn out of here and away to a place that will be favourable to him. After all with the Arryns coming down with their might, and however many Crownlords have answered his summons he will have roughly 40,000 men compared to our 30,000 men."
"Ah but we are more blooded in battle. Maekar Targaryen's men are untested and green as grass, especially Lord Arryn's men." Lord Umber countered.
Aegon Blackfyre spoke then. "It matters not who has the more experience, the battle will come to us today, and we must be prepared."
There was more bickering and then Daeron spoke. "Enough, this meeting was only called so I could listen to reason, but since none of you seem to have any, I will tell you what I have decided. Ser Borros, lead your westermen south towards Harrenhal, and engage the Valemen the riverlords will rally to you as you ride, engage them and Lord Umber shall lead some of our men to aid you as well. As for the rest of us, we shall engage Maekar's host. I shall lead the van, Lord Manderly the left, Lord Ryswell the right and Lord Dreadstark the reserve."
The meeting ended and then, Theon found him speaking with Jeyne once more. "The king has asked me to command the rearguard that will flank the van." She said her voice soft, her hands on his face.
"My brother is taking no chances I see. Who are you guarding in the rearguard?" Theon asked.
"Aegon Blackfyre. The king does not want him thrown into the action like he was last time." Jeyne replies.
Theon nods, kisses her and then says. "My brother seems determined to protect all of the main family as well; Brandon rides in the right with Edwyle, Jorah in the van with Asphell protecting him. Aegor has me and Rickard protecting him. Old men all of us." He laughed slightly.
Jeyne kissed him fully then. "I shall see you once the battle is done my love."
With that they departed and Theon mounted his horse, took his helm from his squire and put it on and drew his sword from his sheath ready and waiting for action. He did not have to wait long, a war horn blast signalled their march, and soon enough they were closing in towards the enemy lines. He heard his brother roar a command and then they were all charging towards the enemy.
The impact at first was crushing and then the adrenaline kicked in and his nerves were forgotten. Hacking, hacking, hacking on he went cutting through men, one man came and one man fell, ten men came, and ten men fell. On it went, hacking, slashing, cutting and ducking. He was struck briefly on the arm, the offender was cut down and never got up again, on it went, on and on and on and on. Hacking and slashing, hacking and slashing, hacking and slashing. More men continued falling to his sword, the bodies piled around him like some sort of ocean, blood everywhere, on the ground, on his sword, on his armour.
More men continued to fall to his sword, hacking, slashing, ducking, dodging, cutting. His training and instincts kicked in, had already kicked in, the adrenaline was keeping him going, making sure he did not feel the pain when a sword or an axe hit him, making sure it only spurred him on. He ran through more of the southerners, cutting them down to shreds, hacking, slashing, hacking and slashing. On and on it went, bodies filled his vision, they were piling up on top of each other, on and on. More blood, more swords, more cuts, more hacks and more slashes.
He fought two men in white cloaks and brought them both down, neither one a match for him even in his old age. His sword was stained red, the sounds of the rest of the fighting were just distant noises to him, he spurred his horse on and cut down another man, and then another, and then another. More bodies added to the pile, a giant of a man came towards him wielding a mace, he ducked the swing, ducked another, nicked then man, ducked a swing, and then slash, thrust, parry, slash, cut and hack and the man fell down dead.
That's when he saw her. Jeyne fighting three men at once, one of the men seemed quite wounded judging by how limp his sword arm was, Theon did not want to take any chances though and so he spurred his horse on cutting through those who got in his way. He killed the man with the limp arm in one single thrust at his throat. The other two men soon diverted their attention toward him, and he cut down one man with two thrusts and a jab, the other took more time, cut, parry, thrust, block, parry, cut, slash, hack, cut and then a slash and the man crumpled off his horse to the ground.
He looked for Jeyne and found her slumping on her horse, and it was only then that he saw just how bad her wounds were, "Jeyne!" he called. No response, he spurred his horse toward her, and sheathed his sword and dismounted and helped her down off her own horse. She was non respondent the blood continuing to flow out of her wounds, he checked her neck no pulse. So wrapped up was he in his grief and the loss of his love that he never felt the axe cleave through his head.
Prince Aegon Targaryen
"Bittersteel has taken the bait." Lord Domeric Bolton said in that cold icy voice of his.
The assembled lords murmured their happiness. The trap had been set, his father had co-ordinated with Lord Corwen Baratheon, and so the Stormlord ever eager for revenge after what the Golden Company had done to his lands during the last Blackfyre war had called his banners and had marched from Storm's End to Little Bridge where their spies had told them the Golden Company had been camped. Bittersteel must have tried to give Baratheon chase, and as such would soon meet his end.
His father was silent for a long time before he replied. "That is good, what of Daeron Stark? What has he done?"
Lord Bolton was silent and then said. "He marches for Ivy Holdfast where my men have told him we are camped, he will not expect to find us here, and that shall be our salvation Your Grace."
"How do we know Stark won't see this plan for what it is? After all he is older now and much more seasoned." Lord Montague Celtigar asked.
"Because Stark's bannermen will be hungry for more war, just as they were last time. And they cannot wait for reinforcements from the south not with the Vale marching swiftly down the Bloody Gate." Lord Bolton replied.
King Maekar voiced his agreement. "It is true; Daeron will not wish to be surrounded by two hosts when the battle comes to. If Corwen is successful, the Golden Company shall break and the Reacherlords will face a tough task fighting Oldtown and Dorne."
"What would you have us do now then Your Grace?" Lord Orton Massey asked.
Aegon's father looked at Massey in contemplation. "We march. We bring the fight to Stark, and we win."
"Is that wise Your Grace?" Bolton asked.
"It might not be, but the time for wiseness is long since passed. The Lothstons hover between both sides, and Daeron Stark grows stronger. We fight now, and we win. No questions asked." Aegon's father replied. Murmurs of agreement and then. "Lord Bolton you shall lead the left, Lord Massey the right, Aegon the van and I shall command the reserve." With that his father dismisses the other lords from the tent and only he and Aegon remain.
They are both silent for a moment and then Aegon asks. "Are you sure Bittersteel will not just wheel around and try and attack us from the rear?"
His father sighs. "If you had asked me that question before Redgrass I would have told you that Bittersteel would not give up the chance to fight a foe that was weaker than him. Now though, now I am not sure. But it is a gamble we must take if we want any hope of winning."
"That is a lot of lives to stake on a gamble father. Surely someone else could have been given command of that particular task, and not Corwen. The man is brave and daring, but he is not subtle, surely Bittersteel will realise something is amiss when his reach allies do not join him." Aegon asked.
His father sighed once more. "That is true, but still we must keep in mind that Bittersteel is old now, he does not command the company in battle as much as he used to. That has fallen to Haegon Blackfyre, and from what we know Haegon though he is old now, as old as you, he is still too much like his father to give up on a fight where he could win glory. And that will be his undoing."
Aegon nodded and then asked. "Who will be riding with you in the reserve father?"
His father smiles wryly at him. "Lords Celtigar, Velaryon and Bar Emmon and their men. I trust them though whether I am right in doing so is another matter. Still rather them than the others in the left and the right of the army. We must show a united from tomorrow Aegon, this battle could last for a long time."
Aegon nods and then takes his leave of his father. As he walks back to his tent, Ser Duncan following behind him, he thinks about the events that have led them to this moment. There had been peace for some time, admittedly it was a shaky one, but it was better than nothing. It seemed that both sides were keen for a peace that could last, though Aegon suspected that Daeron Stark was simply biding his time waiting for the Targaryen hold on the throne to weaken even further before rising in rebellion once more. And it truly nearly had, when Aegon had found out that assassins had been sent after his brother Aerion he had not been sure what to feel, relief or anger. In the end it had been a mixture of the two, and he had only been happy to know that Aerion's children and wife had survived the attempt, Aerion had apparently gone mad with rage and had tortured those sent after him.
It had taken some time but eventually the truth who had sent the assassins had come out. His father's former master of whispers, Ser Michael Stone, someone who had always been known as a devoted follower of the deceased Bloodraven and someone who they know knew wanted anyone but Maekar or his descendants on the throne, though he was also prolifically anti-Blackfyre. Aegon knew that the man was no more, though how he had come to be no more he did not wish to know, though he suspected that Lord Bolton had finally been allowed to live up to his house words. Still it was hard to say whether or not Bittersteel had used the attempt as just the excuse he needed for the war to begin anew.
Before Bittersteel and the Golden Company had invaded, the riverlords Shawney, Butterwell, Lothston and others had risen up in rebellion against Riverrun and battles had been fought and a stalemate reached. Then the Golden Company invaded the Reach and the wealthiest kingdom was plagued with civil war, then the Ironborn invaded the Westerlands and it kept spiralling out of control until eleven months into the fighting, King Maekar called his banners and marched to war.
Aegon entered his tent and sat down on the bed, sighing. He'd left a lot more than the court behind this time. He'd left his wife and their children. Duncan of course was here present as he was squiring for Lord Velaryon, but his eldest son was only eleven years old and hopefully would not actually face all that much fighting in the reserve. His other children were back in King's Landing, with plans for them to flee to Dragonstone should anything go awry here. Jaehaerys was nine and so frail sometimes Aegon wondered whether something about Targaryen interbreeding had caused his son's frailties, Rhaelle was just like her mother, stubborn and headstrong with an ability to voice her opinions at the most inappropriate of times. And Aelix was only two years old but already he had a deep sense of mischief and glee about him. He loved them deeply, and feared for them if this should all go awry.
Not for the first time he cursed his great grandsire for being so stupid as to give Blackfyre to the bastard Daemon, if he had just followed tradition and given the stupid sword to Aegon's grandfather then perhaps some of the rumours that had started the rebellion would have been avoided, alternatively Aegon sometimes thought that his grandsire should have just had the brat killed in an accident before all this foolishness happened. The Blackfyres continued to fight and cause deaths and destruction to the kingdoms they insisted were theirs to rule by right, when whatever proof they had of his grandfather's illegitimacy had either never existed or had died with Daemon Blackfyre. The fact they continued doing so well was solely because of Daeron Stark, and if that man were to die then their cause would fall to pieces.
The whole camp knew that and as such wagers had started as to whom would be the one to have the honour of slaying the Winter Dragon. Aegon fell asleep that night dreaming that it was him who drove Dark Sister through the bastard's old throat. He awoke the next morning just as dawn began creeping in and the sunlight was fighting the clouds for purchase. He was dressed and armoured soon enough, and walked outside to find Dunk standing guard. "How long have you been on duty Ser?" he asked.
His old companion smiled slightly. "Not too long Egg. Just for a few hours I awoke with the crowing of the birds."
"Any more news about where the northmen are?" Aegon asked.
Dunk shook his head, and then a horn was blown. Both of them stood stock still then and then marched towards where their horses were tethered, they mounted their horses and then put their helms on, and rode out to find the van already assembled with old Ser Boremund Crabb barking orders at the men, he nodded at Aegon when he saw him ride up, Aegon lifted his helm up then and barked. "We fight today and we shall win." Cheers erupted and then a second horn blast and the battle began for good.
The battle is like none he's ever fought in before; he knows that from the minute he first slices through some Northman. There's electricity in the air that was missing in previous battles, it's almost as if both sides are filled with so much adrenaline they both know that there will only be one winner and the winner today might decide the fate of the rest of history for Westeros. He uses this knowledge to spur his horse on hacking and slashing, cutting a bloody path through the northmen, trying to find the Stark bastard, one quick kill and the suffering will be over.
Dunk is like his white shadow, wherever he goes Dunk soon follows Dunk cuts and slashes more elegantly, but Aegon fights with proficiency and the urgency of one of royal blood. Together though they paint the ground red and open up an ocean of bodies and blood and gore. On they ride, hacking and slashing and hacking and slashing, more men fall to their blades, Dark Sister is painted in red, covered with the insides of other men who have died fighting for what? A pretender, gods the thought makes him angry and the anger fuels his strength to keep going even when he feels his body begin to ache.
That is when he comes face to face with a Stark, not the Stark he wants to face but a Stark nonetheless. He only knows that he is fighting a Stark by the presence of two grey cloaks and the direwolf pacing next to the man. They circle each other and then one of the grey cloaks lunges for him, and Aegon does a slash, parry and then a thrust and the soldier slumps down dead. The Stark watches this impassively before advancing forward at the same time that his other guard moves forward to fight Dunk. They circle and then steel on steel, they break apart and then they move towards each other once more, swinging, sparks flew and cuts and dents were made.
Aegon could feel the tiredness beginning to creep into his system then, the Direwolf that the man had was scaring his horse, another few moments and he'd either be killed or thrown off his horse. Thankfully Dunk managed to deal with the other guard that the Stark lad had, making it so that it was now two on one. Still the direwolf is causing problems, Aegon tilts his sword to one side and out the corner of his eye he sees Dunk tilt his sword towards his own, the two tap each other and then they move forward, the trick in place.
The Stark lad advances his sword raised, he slashes at Dunk, Aegon jabs at his ribs, managing to spook his horse and cause him to miss Dunk, the direwolf leaps towards Aegon but is knocked down by the horse. The Stark curses, and then tries again, this time going for Aegon, whilst his Direwolf lunges for Dunk; Aegon blocks the man's swing whilst Dunk uses his strength to grapple the direwolf to submission. A loud crack signals then direwolf's death, and the Stark convulses with pain, sensing an opportunity, Aegon launches forward and swings and hacks with abandon, Dunk joins in and soon enough they are slashing and pounding at the Stark who without his sword is powerless to defend himself, eventually their beatings prove useful and the Stark lad falls of his horse bleeding to death from a thousand wounds and cuts.
A small victory, though when they later learn that they killed Prince Aegor Stark the crown prince of the north and his direwolf Serron they will celebrate into the early hours, for now though they ride on seeking more battle.