Prince Duncan the Small
The war was going from bad to worse. Duncan knew this and each and every day he cursed his father for his damnable ambition and pure stupidity. Duncan could not understand why his father could not have simply let things be and wait for Daeron Stark to make a blunder, surely it would have happened sooner rather than later and then they would have been able to fight on their own terms. But because King Aegon had not waited they were fighting with one eye constantly on their backs in case one of their allies turned traitor and stabbed them in the back. He knew what had happened to his grandfather and the trust that had been misplaced and he had no desire to end up the same way his grandfather had, cold, alone and dying. At nights he dreamed of Jenny and their child she was carrying, soon enough he would be a father. He wanted to be there to see his son or daughter be born and he desperately wished for this war to end.
The way things were going though it did not seem as if the war would end anytime soon. They had been fighting for a year and a half now, and still the Blackfyre cause seemed to grow stronger and strong, not weaker. After Moat Cailin and White Harbour something seemed to have inspired the northmen and they fought like men possessed, Riverrun was under siege and had been for the past three moons, a host sent by Lord Whent to harass the northmen had been destroyed on the banks of the blue fork, the site where Lord Tytos Lannister had been sent running back south. In the south things had gotten much worse for the Targaryen cause. Dorne had fallen to the Yronwoods who had declared themselves the kings of Dorne, the Martells had been driven out of the kingdom they had held since Nymeria's invasion and now they were in King's Landing as exiles. Meanwhile the Vale continued its stubborn neutrality, Duncan could not blame them, after all with Jon Arryn in a cell somewhere in the north and Duncan's father not doing anything to actively free him, the Vale lords did not want their lord to be sentenced to death.
There was other news as well, news Duncan had tried his hardest not to think about ever since Lord Bolton had arrived at Maidenpool and told them all about it. There had been a battle in the Reach on the banks of some river or the other, the Golden Company had finally landed as well it seemed in time for this battle, and the forces of Lord Tyrell and Duncan's youngest brother Aelix had been trapped by the rebel reacherlords on one side and the golden company on the other. Aelix had gone for the mad dash to try and play hero, Bolton had said that his brother had fought admirably and bravely, cutting down men twice as old and experienced as him with a rampant further. Only to come into the path of one Ser Arthur Ambrose the leading rebel knight of the Reacherlords, there had been a fierce battle that much Duncan knew but at the end of it Aelix was another corpse blocking the river, dead slaughtered his body defiled and missing. Lord Mooton had written all of this to Duncan's father, saying that he was trying to rally the remenants of Tyrell and Aelix's hosts and bring them to chase the Golden Company who had headed west.
Duncan knew he should have felt something more, some sort of anger or grief, his brother was dead slaughtered in battle, but by a man who had grown up alongside him at court. Arthur Ambrose had been knighted by Dunk, had broken bread and wine with Aelix and Duncan on numerous occasions, they had thought him a friend, but he had been swayed by the Blackfyres and their lies. Duncan wanted the man dead alright, and he wanted to be the man who killed him, he wanted to look into Ambrose's eyes as the light faded from them and know that his brother had been avenged. But he could do nothing now, not when Riverrun was still under siege and there were more battles to be fought. He had asked simply what had happened to Aelix's wife, his widow now and Bolton said she had joined the Silent Sisters when news of his brother's death had become public knowledge. Duncan also heard talk of how his father meant to give Summerhall to the Martells and something inside of him bristled at the mere thought of that, that was Aelix's seat, it should become Jaehaerys seat now not the Dornish, those fools who could not ever hold onto their own seat of power.
He shook his head and read the reports that their scouts had given him. It appeared as if Lord Tytos Lannister was moving his host from Casterly Rock to Deep Den, perhaps the lion thought to take Daemon Stark from the rear, a ploy that would not work, Stark was far too cautious, he had good advisors around him men who were not afraid to shoot down his suggestions. Lannister was a craven, likely this suggestion had been Lord Tarbeck's, Duncan had moved his own men from Maidenpool to Harrenhal some three moons ago, and now they had spent time waiting and watching, listening to the sounds of the Riverlands. Lord Bolton's host had joined them some two weeks ago, an extra 1,000 men green as grass in some respects but with a capable commander in Domeric Bolton, there were things that needed to be done and accepted in war and this was one of them. He sighed, war, gods damn war, if only the Blackfyres were all dead then none of this would be happening now and perhaps, the north would have slumbered on for a long period of time. There was nothing in the north that could be of value to the Iron Throne, Duncan supposed that it was just a matter of pride for his father, pride that was seeing innocent men and women and children die from the war and from winter.
He sighed once more and then said to Prince Lewyn who was stood behind him. "Send them in." The door opened and in walked the members of his war council, old and cunning Lord Domeric Bolton, craggy old Lord Darklyn, strong and stubborn Lord Hayford, bold Lord Whent and finally Lord Edric Baratheon and his right hand man Lord Bryce Swann. "My lords," Duncan began. "I would hear what news we have from the front."
Lord Bolton as always spoke first, his voice soft. "Our scouts report the same thing every day my prince. Lord Stark keeps his men stationed around Riverrun, preventing ravens and supplies from reaching the castle. His men surround the castle in a ring formation not allowing anything or anyone in or out. The last person from Riverrun who tried to escape was captured and hanged, and quartered."
Lord Whent spoke then. "Aye, this is true. Stark keeps everything ringed in and the Tullys will run out of food and other supplies eventually. Should Riverrun fall once more, I can tell you most of the riverlords will flock to join Stark."
"And what of you Lord Whent? What will you do should Riverrun fall once more?" Lord Hayford asked.
Whent bristled at the implied suggestion but thankfully said nothing to harsh. His voice was even when he replied. "I will remain loyal to the bitter end my lord. Everything I have, I owe to his grace, I will not throw that back in his face with betrayal."
Unless Stark offers you the hand of Lucerys Blackfyre for one of your daughters. Duncan thought, aloud he merely said. "That is all well and good, but Lord Whent you say that the riverlords will flock to Stark should Riverrun fall. Why would they not flock to Blackfyre, after all this war is being fought by the northmen in Blackfyre's name not Stark's."
Whent was silent for a moment and then said. "Blackfyre is merely a figurehead my prince. Daemon Stark is the one actually calling the shots for the northmen. He is the one leading the siege, and should Riverrun surrender, it will be because of Stark that it has fallen not because of Blackfyre. The man is his grandfather's grandson more so than Aegor Stark ever was the man's son."
"So you believe we should attack Stark's siege lines now rather than wait for Riverrun to capitulate under the pressure? You, yourself sent men out to fight Stark and his men and look where that left you. What makes you think this will be any different?"
"Because the host is bigger and this time Stark himself will have to engage in the fighting rather than sending out Lord Umber and his chumps to do the dirty work. He will want to prove himself and that will be his undoing." Whent replied.
Duncan is silent for a moment as he ponders all that Whent has said, it is true, Stark is a grieving and raging husband and father taking out his grief the only way he knows how, by fighting. He is young, and as such might be prone to rash mistakes just as his grandfather was during the Battle of the Bleeding Water and during the first Blackfyre war. They could take advantage of that. "Very well," he finally says. "We march tonight and we march quickly."
The cover of darkness cloaks them well, so that by the time they see Stark's siege lines, the sun has not yet risen and the moon has not yet disappeared, giving them the cover of the strange light this setting creates, Duncan nods and the first row of men go down into the fray, and then when they hear the crashing of steel on steel Duncan raises his own sword and enters the fray. The fighting is quick and brutal, the northmen are still scrambling for weapons and armour when Duncan and his men descend on them, and so they fall easily enough to his sword swings and the hacking and slashing leads to much blood being spurted onto his armour and his sword. He rides through the bedraggled northern host cutting and slashing at will, thinking that perhaps victory might just be in sight. He can hear the screams of men dying, and the sounds of steel and blood and death. Death permeates much of what he sees and smells, imprinting itself onto his eyes and his memory like a lusty wench that does not wish to leave.
The sun has risen and there are plenty of bodies filling the ground when he comes across Stark. The man fights with two grey cloaks protecting him as Prince Lewyn and Ser Steffon protect him, Duncan spurs his horse on and then swings through the men blocking his path further bloodying his sword. Then he swings at Stark and the man brings his sword up to block the swing, and they engage in a duel for teh ages. Swinging, blocking, swinging, cutting, blocking. Duncan lands some choice blows on the man, denting his armour and drawing blood, Stark pays him back in kind, denting his helm so badly that when he withdraws for one time he has to throw the helm off to get a better view of his opponent. Stark does the same and then the fighting continues. Both men are exhausted but still they push on, fighting and fighting, drawing more and more from each other.
Before they pull away one last time, Ice and Dark Sister are locked in yet another embrace and Duncan hears over the pounding of his heart in his ears and the sound of men dying, Stark snarling at him, the words become clearer the closer he gets to falling. "A day, a week, a year, or a decade! I don't care how long it takes, but my brother and I will see that you pay a hundred fold for what your family have cost us! I will bring down such a ruin on your House that no one will doubt it was the gods themselves that punished you!" They break apart then and Duncan feels sucked dry, the world goes black, but then he pulls through and swings and then yells for his men to retreat they cannot take anymore, they'll lose before the northmen do.
The battle of Riverrun which happened on the seventh day of the ninth month of the 250th year after Aegon's Landing, tipped and turned throughout the course of the day, but eventually ended in a draw, when Prince Duncan strategically ordered his men to retreat back to King's Landing and was surprised when Daemon Stark did not order his men to chase after them. There were several casualties of note during the fighting, on the Targaryen side, Lord Domeric Bolton at the age of sixty and five died, as did Lord Hayford and Lord Whent. On the Northern side, Lord Beron Umber was slain as was Lord Mors Glover and Asphell Wull of the Winter's Guard. More death would follow.
Ser Haegon Blackfyre
There were days where he could barely remember what his father looked like, he had always been told he looked like his sire, but Daemon Blackfyre had become a name, a name and a memory so faded that it did not seem proper to call the man his sire. Aegor Rivers was his true father, the one who had raised him and cared for him through all the hardships their family had endures. It was Aegor who had given him his first sword, and his first woman and all the other things that father's were supposed to be there. He could not even remember what his brothers Aegon and Aemon looked like, he had not been there when Aegon had died stuck in the Reach before fleeing, and he had not been there when Aemon had died, stuck in the disputed lands when it had happened. His other older brother Daemon he had known more, he had liked Daemon the bookworm that he was, but his brother had left and was now somewhere, he knew not where.
His mother had died when he was thirty from a broken heart his sisters said, from grief his brothers said, from weakness Aegor said. Haegon believed Aegor, his mother had been a shadow of herself during their exile, never doing anything but praying to gods who never answered her. What good were gods when they showed no proof of their existence? The seven had earnt his contempt the day they let his nephew Aegon be struck by some bloody peasant arrow and lose a chance for the throne. They had lost his devotion when they let his wife die giving birth to a stillborn son, they lost his thoughts when they let Maegon die from the fever, the brother he had been closest to. The red god seemed more real, at least he had seen the god's supposed powers in action, but the red god was too extreme for him, he was not a godly man, he cared not for religion, not truly, the only gods he needed were war and duty.
Aegor had died and his sons had died with him, true there was Daemon Bittersteel but the boy was a weakling with no appetite for war and so Haegon had taken command of the company. They had built up their strength and their coffers once more, fighting in the Disputed Lands and fighting for his goodbrother in Volantis and against Yunkai. Haegon knew the Disputed Lands better than any man alive right now, and so achieving victory there had been relatively easy. Still there was fighting and then there was fighting, and so he had fought and fought, fought to keep his family, what was left of it safe and secure in Tyrosh, he had killed the last man who had tried to force them out, killed them and butchered them. Many men had tried to kill him over the years and yet none had succeeded, they were all dead and he was still alive. Some might become cocky because of that, Haegon had been once but then he had seen his loved ones killed because of this, what the falseborn's line had denied them and now he was left alive, with ghosts and dreams and broken promises.
His mentor's dying wish had been for him to be wed and so he had wed again some Maegyr or some other bloody Essosi he had wed and he had fucked her until she had given him children. His son Maelys had been born deformed with two heads, the second head the woman had said was another child, his wife had died but he cared not he had a son, a living son to carry on his work should he fall. Maelys was ten now and his squire, and so was being groomed for the leadership once Haegon finally rested though he was determined that this time, his family would succeed where they had once failed over and over again. He had a girl, Visenya he knew, but he paid little attention to her, leaving her in Volantis had been a smart move, girls were nothing but trouble.
The war that was his main concern, it was going well for them. The riverlords who fought for the Falseborn had been defeated and bled dry at Moat Cailin and the north had fought back and won at White Harbour, then Daemon Stark had defeated the Lannister host at the Blue Fork before smashing Lord Tully's host at the Whispering Wood. Riverrun was no longer under siege but its people were broken and defeated. In the south, Dorne had fallen to the Yronwoods and though they had declared independence Haegon knew that should he ask it of them they would come to their aid, but for now he did not wish to ask it of them. The Reach was theirs effectively, Tyrell was in chains somewhere with the Costaynes pulling the shots, one of the Falseborn's line was dead, slain by Ser Arthur Ambrose, that was good, Haegon had had the boy's head tarred and then sent it back to King's Landing with a message.
Their scouts had reported that the lion had assembled a host and was marching down from the Rock and down towards Deep Den where no one knew what he planned on doing. Haegon intended to take full advantage of the man's uncertainty and destroy his host and open the Westerlands to plunder. The riches from the west could continue to fuel their campaign till it's very end, they had a fair share of plunder from the Reach but that was in foodstuffs not the hard gold that would buy more weapons and men and bring more lords to their cause. Haegon had ordered the company and their allies to march from their position in the Reach to the Rose Way where the Reach and the Westerlands were joined by the Gardener Mountains, and as such they had been camped there when Daemon Stark and his northmen as well as Haegon's great nephew Lucerys had found them. Haegon did not make much of his great nephew, the man was too soft and boastful for his liking thinking he had skills that he clearly did not possess as one round in the sparring yard had proven, still he was their king and Haegon would fight for him till the bitter end.
It would do no good though to ponder on these things, they were in the past there were other more pressing concerns they needed to deal with which was why after bathing Haegon called a war council meeting, and observed those lords who entered the tent. There was Ser Arthur Toyne, Ser Arthur Ambrose, Ser Devon Strickland, Ser Tristan Mudd, Ser Harry Flowers, Ser Osgood Stone, Prince Daemon Stark and King Lucerys Blackfyre. Haegon nodded to them all and then spoke. "We know that Tytos Lannister has a host at Deep Den that sits and does nothing. Shall we march and smash his host or circumvent it and march through to Siverhill and then go about our business from there?"
As expected it was Mudd who spoke first his chins wobbling as he did so. "I say we march straight for Deep Den, smash Lannister's ragtag host and then march for the Westerlands to plunder and pillage as we see fit."
Toyne nodded in agreement. "Aye there is no point heading to Siverhill only to have our arses attacked by the lions."
Haegon's great nephew spoke then and Haegon could have sighed, until the boy actually spoke some sense it seemed to be good to be true this fool who was his kin could speak sense? "The Westerlands is not King's Landing. Whilst I appreciate the need to ensure that the Westerlands no longer have an army to call upon, I say we destroy their host and then turn east and march for the capital, with all our strength."
"And what of the resources we shall need to bring the other lords who hover on the sidelines to our side Your Grace?" Ser Harry Flowers asked. "No I say we do as Toyne and Mudd suggest."
Stark speaks then, and Haegon hears similarities to the man's grandfather. "I agree with Prince Lucerys. We can do all the pillaging and raiding we want in the Westerlands, but that will only fill our coffers and give the Targaryens time to rebuild their army and see to it that we are cut off from our allies. Riverrun is desolate now, its men are either with us or they have been killed. The Vale remains in isolation with its lord in chains in White Harbour, and the Reach is effectively neutralized now. Furthermore, Dorne is out of this war for good now. I say we strike for King's Landing and we strike soon."
"So you would ignore the threat Lannister's host poses completely?" Haegon asked of the lad.
The stark lad shook his head and said. "I would destroy the Lannister host at Deep Den and then I would march on King's Landing. But I would not march to Deep Den; no I would lead them here and have them fight us on our own terms."
"And how would you suggest we do that? Lannister might have little experience but men like Crakehall and Lefford have bucket loads." Toyne questioned.
At that Stark smiled and said softly. "With decoys of course. Lannister will lead the army and his men will follow him wherever he says they are to go. I have a man under my command that would be more than happy to get back at the Lannisters. And he will be more than willing to do whatever we ask of him."
And so it was that the plans were put into place and Lord Borros Reyne, a former bastard was sent out with outriders to tempt the Lannister lord out of his cave and into the destruction that would await him. Haegon was saddled and armoured waiting for the signal, when he saw his son Maelys fidgeting on his horse. Haegon turned toward him and said sternly. "Enough lad, you will scare your horse if you do that in battle. You survived in the Reach, do not get yourself killed now. No more moving, be patient and you shall get what you wish."
"Yes father." The boy said solemnly. Maelys had the potential to be a great leader and warrior if he had more patience. The sounding of the horn drew Haegon back away from his thoughts, he looked at Maelys and nodded and when the banners of the company and his house were raised his drew his greatsword and yelled for the battle to begin.
It was clear that Reyne had led the Lannister host on a wild goose chase and as such his men were tired and knew they had been led to a trap. Haegon yelled at them and cut them down as they came, swinging his sword like a man possessed, he swung and swung and swung and swung. His sword was red, the bodies littered the ground and still he fought. On and on he fought, cutting, slashing, hacking and cutting, he hacked his way through swordsmen with inferior skills and cut them down like nothing more than meat. The fighting went on, hacking and slashing he bathed the ground in blood the sounds of battle were in the distance. He swung and swung and swung and swung, bodies falling at his feet and still he fought.
He cleaved a man in half, and then killed his squire, killed more and more, the death toll rose and rose and rose. He swung an swung, and felt no tiredness in his joints, he did not feel the pain from the wounds he quite clearly had, a madness had taken hold of him and still he fought, on and on he fought. The Lannister host was breaking, their leader was gone somewhere, fled most likely but still they fought on like the stubborn dogs that they were, Haegon continued killing more and more of their men until there was no one left to kill/. The battle of the Gardener Mountains ended in victory.