The Princesses War

I own nothing but my OC's

AN: And so the next chapter in this war begins. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think of it.

Chapter Five

Under Occupation

Private Hassan Corrin wondered if it had all been worth it. He was unmarried, unlike many of his brothers in arms, but his mother and sisters still relied on him, the money he made in the army, to get by. It was a risk, giving up his chances as an apprentice cobbler to join the army, and it was paying off so far. He had spent the first two years in the army stationed along the southern coast in the forts built to stop an invasion from Gwaithol. Hassan was as non descript as they came in the Farosi army, he had grown a moustache, under Farosi military law if you could grow facial hair you had to, preferably a moustache although since they came into contact with Westeros beards were becoming more common. He was just one more soldier in the blue uniform, he had overheard some of the locals calling them blue coats.

When he had learned that they were going to Westeros for "Amphibious Warfare Training" he, like everyone else, had been excited, thinking it meant they would soon be taking back the island colonies lost in the war. Then, one night, after a year of practicing every way of landing on a beach imaginable, the company had been sitting around a campfire when they learned the truth. Captain Tanlel, the company's leader, approached them with Sergeant Dommel.

'Gentlemen, I have good news. I have just attended a briefing with General Morsey. King Robert Baratheon is dead.'

No one said anything at that, no one was sure why that would be good news.

'I know that sounds strange to call good news but I'm being honest here. In an effort to preserve life and protect the common good His Majesty and the Senate have agreed to occupy Westeros and end the current succession struggle. That means we are invading Westeros.'

As soon as they realised that they cheered, Hasan cheered, soldiers in combat received more pay than those serving in peace. On top of that if he could do something to earn himself a name it could set up his family for life.

'The rest of the corps will secure the islands castles, we will escort the artillery up to some hills overlooking the harbor. We move out in one hour, get your equipment ready.'

The next morning he watched on as the Redwyne feet was sunk, one of the largest fleets in Westeros burning and sinking from the combined firepower of the Farosi artillery and navy. Nearly all of the castles were taken that day in surprise attacks, the few which didn't surrendered after a few artillery shells fell on their keeps. However, their position kept them out of direct combat, that changed as soon as the real invasion began. Two of the regiments were left behind on the Arbor to keep it as a retreat base or something, Hassan didn't know, it was none of his business. Hassan's regiment, the 87th Regiments of Foot, was told that they would be in the first wave which would attack the enemy city, although no one told them which city. Everyone had their own idea, some said Lannisport, others Kings Landing, which Hassan agreed with, but soon, through the mist, from the decks of the slow moving transport ships, they saw a flame burning in the sky. It was the top of a lighthouse and then they knew they would storm Oldtown. The cities defenders were out in force, thousands of city watchmen deployed on the beach before the transports. Hassan and all the others climbed into the landing boats and then rowed for the shore. Arrows peppered them, killing a few men but their new leather jerkings were just enough to stop most of them from being lethal. Cannons from the warships kept the enemy pinned down behind the dunes on the beach silencing the archers. They landed and quickly formed into two ranks, thousands of men along the beach doing this as the cannons stopped firing, at this range there was too much risk of friendly fire. The Westerosi, seeing they were free to attack, charged over the top of the dunes only to face a wall of volley fire. That was the day Hassan killed for the first time. He aimed at an old man in the uniform of the local city watch and pulled the trigger killing the man. He was just one part of the machine of war, firing, reloading, aiming, firing, reloading, aiming firing again and again. By the time the Westerosi broke and fled there was a pile of enemy corpses on the slope of the sand dune which Hassan had to climb over to continue the pursuit while the cavlary were off loaded from the ships. A small force of Light Horsemen were able to cut off many of the retreating defenders from the gates. That night the gates were opened and the 87th was one of the regiments tasked with taking the city. After marching in the city gave up, no one tried to defend it after seeing what the Farosi army could do.

Now, weeks after that, they were still in Oldtown and Hassan was on guard duty inside the headquarters for General Morsey, the leader of the 8th Corps. He had made his base at a luxurious inn overlooking the river, although Hassan couldn't see the river from where he stood inside the war room, formerly the main drinking hall, where a large table stood in the middle of the room covered with a map of Westeros and the Sunset Sea, including the Mid Point Isles, a small cluster of islands used as a naval base. All of the colonels stood around the table and at the head was General Morsey himself, a tall broad shouldered man with a patch over his right eye, a wide moustache over the top of his lip and his chest decorated with many medals. Members of Hassan's platoon stood around the room as guards. The doors suddenly opened and three men entered the room, two of them Royal Marines, the third, the man at the head, wore a sky blue uniform with an admirals insignia on his shouler. The Lord Admiral, he realised.

'I'm sorry for being late,' he said as he approached the table.

'It's no problem at all,' said Morsey. 'We're only waging a war.'

This garnered a few chuckled from the colonels and Hassan noticed Admiral Greenman roll his eyes.

'Anyway, our raids along the coast have gone well. What remained of the Reaches navy has either fled or been destroyed.'

'Excellent. Now, you'll be glad to know admiral that our reinforcements are expected to begin arriving soon.'

'How large a force can we expect?'

'We will recieve the support of the Fifth, Sixth and Seventh Corps, the Twenty Second and Twenty Third Infantry, the Thirty Third and Thirty Fourth Light Horse and the Forty First, Forty Second, Forty Third and Forty Fourth Heavy Horse. We can also expect a Corps of the Reserve army.'

'To quote my nanny,' said Greenman, 'I am the worst math's student in history. What's that in numbers?'

'Seventy five thousand men,' Colonel Slopehill answered. 'Give or take a couple hundred.'

'And with them we will overwhelm the Westerosi with firepower. Now,' Morsey pointed to Upton on the map, 'Colonel Frons led an action here which was able to beat back the Westerosi although it cannot be called a victory. All our troops are within a mile of this city now while the armies of Renly Baratheon are near Highgarden. I believe that if we keep ourselves here it will demoralise the men so I will authorise a raiding campaign against the locals.'

'Are you asking us to become plunderers?' asked Colonel Doomlin, the commander of the 87th.

'No. The mission will be to confiscate illegal materials such as excessive amounts of weaponry. Afterall, if this land is to be governed like Farsos they do not need to have so many weapons.'

Again there were some chuckles at that.

'We will also begin recruiting local reserve troops, I think they should appreciate the payment. Our friends in the Military Police have supplies of obsolete rifles to arm them with. Colonel Sommen, the local MP commander, claims that he can raise four thousand of them.'

'Is it wise to arm the enemy?' asked Greenman. 'Look how well that went with the Starks.'

'These men will be under our command. Now, if anyone has anything else to add, now is the time.'

When no one took up the offer the officers all left and Hassan's commander, Lieutenant Thorn cleared his throat.

'Alright men, you may consider your guard duties today over. I suggest you go and enjoy yourselves.'

'Thank you, sir,' Sergeant Dommel responded.

'Dismissed.'

With those words Hassan and his fellow soldiers saluted their officer and then began walking towards the doors. Goonil, a fellow private who he had done his training with, soon joined him as they stepped into the cobble stoned streets of Oldtown.

'There were worse places to be posted,' Goonil told him.

'True that. You know what I think. This is probably the best posting in Westeros.'

'Don't want to go to King's Landing?'

'Nah. I heard the place is a giant sewer.'

'Might be but apparently there are some very good brothels there.'

'You go to half of them and you'll be walking bow legged for the rest of your life.'

'Might be worth it. Come on, let's get to the pub.'

Since they occupied the city the streets had returned to, what Hassan guessed, was normal for the city. The locals could be seen on the streets again, local men and women going about their business. However, there were Farosi soldiers everywhere, the ones on duty standing on street corners with their rifles, and fixed bayonets, in hand. The ones off duty, like Hassan and Goonil, had their rifles slung over their shoulders. At first they had orders to not go about armed with they weren't on guard duty but after a Farosi private had been found murdered by a local the order had been reversed to make sure it wouldn't happen again. It made Hassan feel more secure anyway.

The two of them entered a pub called "The Butcher's End", which had become a favorite amongst the Farosi soldiers. On the outside it was a three story building with whitewashed walls and large windows. Inside it was well lit by candles and the light from the outside, most of the tables occupied by Farosi soldiers in blue sitting around, gambling and drinking. The two of them approached the bar, each of them getting a beer and then they sat down at a table which many other soldiers were sitting at.

'Which regiment are you boys from?' asked one of them, that was when Hassan noticed that at least half of the Farosi troops at that table weren't wearing their wide brimmed hats but rather black berets.

'The 87th,' Goonil told him.

'81st,' the man in the beret responded.

'From Clor?' Hassan asked the man.

'That's us lad.'

The Isle of Clor was a large island just north east of Farsos itself, although it had been a part of the kingdom for six hundred years. Still, in all that time they had maintained a very strong sense of local identity and, as a special privilege, the soldiers from Clor had their traditional beret.

'I always liked you lot. I'm from the Mountain's Foot, Hassan as well.'

'Where about?' asked another of the Clor men.

'First Sight,' Hassan answered.

'Right from the capital,' the original man answered. 'Horkon by the way.'

'Hassan.'

'What do you make of the locals?'

'Westerosi? Not bad really.'

'Not the smartest bunch are they? Being ruled by these pompous bastards that's no surprise though.'

'I guess not,' said Goonil. 'Still, this time next year good old King Lukon will be in charge.'

'To King Lukon!' one soldier who was not from Clor said loudly and raised his tankard.

'KING LUKON!' everyone else at the table declared, raised their tankards, and then drank heavily.

Hassan heard the door open again and he turned to see who it was, five men, all in the black coats of the Military Police. They got their drinks and sat together, away from everyone else.

'I hate having the MP's about all the time,' Goonil muttered quietly.

'Here, here,' Horkon agreed. 'You never know what the buggers are thinking.'

'You're right,' said Hassan. 'They're tough bastards though.'

Suddenly a bell began to clang loudly and the door at the top of the stairs opened, a young woman wearing little more than a shift emerged and she took in a deep breath before shouting.

'Alright lads! Brothels open!'

With that about half of the soldiers got up from their chairs and began to walk quickly to the stairs.

'Duty calls gents,' Horkin told them, picked up his rifle and grinned. 'Good talking to you two.'

Hassan watched as most of the other Farosi troops moved towards the upstairs brothel, Hassan himself felt too embarrassed to do likewise. Instead he just downed his beer and left, heading back to the barracks as evening came on fast, his thoughts filled with the hope that he could see combat and make a name for himself.

AN: The Farosi have a plan, their reinforcements are coming closer day by day and we have a new perspective on the war. My first draft of this chapter was written from the perspective of Admiral Greenman but then I realised that the story needs to have a view on the front lines from the Farosi perspective other than Jon.

Let me know what you think of this chapter, please review because I love reading feedback. Have a great day everyone.