Well then hello new teaser trailer for House of the Dragon! Part of the reason I wanted to write this story was because of the upcoming Targaryen focused series and this trailer (minus the subtitle error on Rickon Stark) was incredible! Finally we see a couple of dragons too in Syrax and one other that I'm not too sure about. August cannot come quickly enough.
But that's still a way away, and before then we have a Targaryen lite chapter here with massive consequences for the remainder of the story. I hope you all enjoy this battle. Please let me know your thoughts!
I own nothing but the OC's. The recognisable characters are belonging to George R R Martin and HBO.
The Kingsroad in this part of the world was nothing more than a wide unkempt track. Stannis sat atop his horse at the back of his force watching on as one of his horns blew, signalling the charge. The Baratheon wasn't like his brother, he wouldn't rush in at the front of his lines barrelling anybody to the ground that stood in his way. He had won battle after battle by being calculating and cautious. Fair Isle had been won by understanding and predicting his opponent, and this would be much of the same.
He had given the Karstarks command of the 3,000 strong assaulting force. The Northmen made up most of that and the rest of the men were his siege specialists carrying ladders and a heavy battering ram along with their protection. Already the Baratheon King could see the fierceness of the Northerners in defence of their home as the shaggy haired 2,000 or so that had been raised between Karstark and the Dreadfort rushed towards the lone fortress in the bogs. His Stormlanders were much more refined however, marching in a unison behind a shield wall.
"Why do the Northmen charge so rashly?" His squire, Bryen Farring, the son of Stannis' castellan at Storm's End that had been so brutally betrayed by Red Ronnet Connington, asked. "Surely they know the walls will be lined with archers."
Stannis thought on that question for a moment as the first line of his men reached the hastily erected walls and began to assault them. As that was happening Stannis began to remember his lessons from Cressen as a boy. "That wall is new and sourced from the local area." He looked around at the marshland and pointed at some of the forests in the distance. "Look, you can see where the Ironborn cut the trees to gather wood. But wooden defences are only so good and the Ironborn have been harried by Northmen since they took Moat Cailin. A force our size should be able to break through especially from the North."
Bryen nodded. "And Moat Cailin was built to withstand the South, not the North."
"Correct." Stannis noted. "The very layout of the castle and the land is as it is so that a few hundred archers can withhold an army a hundred thousand strong from the South, yet the land to the North loses its defensive edge. Add the harassing from the locals and the morale of those inside will likely be poor." He didn't receive any more questions and so managed to sit and watch the action whilst calculating in his mind. He could see archers at the top of the tower closest to him as well as a handful at intermittent points on the walls, counting the total defenders that he could see at around two dozen at most.
By now the ladders had made it to the front lines, though the first one to go up away from the Kingsroad began to slowly sink as men put their weight on, and the Ironborn at the top of the ladder managed to push the unbalanced ladder away leaving men falling into the bogs. Those on the Kingsroad fared better however, as the battering ram had made its way to the gates and the ladders were more stable on solid ground. Stannis saw Cregan Karstark was the first up the ladders and watched on as his kinsman by marriage threw a helpless Iron Islander off the battlements and into the assaulting forces below.
It was now simply a matter of time before the castle fell to them, and so Stannis cleared his throat and lightly pulled on the reins of his horse, before squeezing his legs on its side to signal that he was wanting to go forwards. The horse began to walk slowly, and the call from his guards went up. "WITH THE KING!" He had made it seven paces before a loud, triumphant roar sounded from his men ahead, and Stannis noticed as the group began thinning as the castle gates were battered down. Stannis Baratheon simply unsheathed his sword and held it upright, signalling the rest of his force to follow him inside.
He had barely entered the boundary of the castle however when he heard a loud roar from the South before another one of his horns sounded in the near distance ahead of him. "CLOSE THAT GATE!" He heard Ser Justin Massey roar from somewhere. "ARCHERS TO THE WALLS AND TOWERS! ROOT OUT THE IRONBORN AND INTO DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!"
"What's happening?" Stannis had rushed forwards towards the southern side of the castle dodging Ironborn bodies as he went.
He didn't know who it was that delivered the words, but the man's words made Stannis' blood run cold. "Stark banners, Your Grace. To the South and charging fast."
Even before they had reached Moat Cailin they saw the Southern gates had been opened. A handful of Ironborn men had started to flee, leaving the Southern gate open. Robb held his fist in the air and stopped the march before swinging his horse around. "Lord Bolton, ensure that those men do not reach the shores." He ordered.
"As you say, Your Grace." Bolton bowed his head, retreating behind the lines to find some archers.
Robb then moved back to his position and unsheathed his blade. "MEN OF THE NORTH! IT'S TIME TO TAKE BACK OUR HOMELAND!" He roared.
He let the motivated roar of the Northerners fill the brisk Northern air before the soft twanging of arrows was soon heard behind him, quickly followed by a horn blast from inside the castle. "They're closing the gates!" Lord Umber roared.
That was all Robb needed as he pointed his sword forwards and charged. The noise of the advance was soon drowned out by Robb's own heartbeat in his head as the Northerners rushed to Moat Cailin, but his attention was soon drawn by a line of men in Baratheon colours led by a knight with a sleeping lion surcoat that had marched out and set a pike line a few dozen yards away from the closing gate. Robb got ready to leap over them and to try and push through into the castle, but as the pike line set themselves the gate slammed shut.
Robb's horse was one of the lucky few that made it over the sacrificed Stormlanders, and he quickly swivelled around and began slashing out at them, trying to create as many gaps as possible. It was relatively successful and some of his foot soldiers had advanced to the walls of Moat Cailin with small battering rams, but the murder holes had been opened up and soon the air was filled with the screams of burning Northmen as tar and burning arrows came flying down from above. Those that somehow managed to survive that were then speared and crushed by the falling portcullis.
Looking around, Robb cursed. They had slaughtered the Baratheon force that had slowed them down but for now there was no chance of his men breaking through the gates. He noticed an arrow whizzing towards him and blocked it with his shield before calling out. "PULL BACK! PULL OUT OF RANGE!" And whipping the reins of his horse to gallop back towards the South.
Thankfully, his men followed his lead, and a couple of minutes later they had set up a line on the Kingsroad just out of reach of the arrows flying at them from Moat Cailin. Robb stood there, arrows embedded in the mud around the Kingsroad a few metres away staring up at the castle cursing. He had hoped that the fighting had been from his Northern force, but Stannis Baratheon had either beaten them here, or simply beaten Galbart Glover decisively in a battle he hadn't heard about yet.
Ser Narbert Grandison's sacrifice had bought the Baratheon force much needed time to regroup at the walls and shut off Moat Cailin and Stannis ensured that he committed the deed to memory in order to reward Hugh Greybeard when he managed to retake the Stormlands. That brave move by the Knight of Grandview and subsequent defensive steel had forced the Northmen into a retreat, though they had simply set up lines out of bow reach and were holding firm. That however had allowed Stannis a moment to breathe and assess their situation.
The state of Moat Cailin was sorry at best. The supplies were miniscule and rotting and littered all over the castle were flagons and bottles, telling Stannis that the Ironborn were fearful of drinking the water. Thankfully, the fleeing Ironborn had left weapons and armour in their rush to avoid Stannis' attack, and so in the most structurally stable tower Stannis began ordering his Maesters to create a hospital area to treat the wounded as well as bring most of his commanders in to talk about their strategy. The only major commander not in the room surrounding a table with a map of the area on it was Ser Humfrey Clifton, who was on the walls with the rest of the archers waiting for Stark to make a move.
"This is now a siege." Stannis insisted. "Stark knows the stories of Moat Cailin better than we do and knows he cannot hope to mount an assault from the south whilst we hold Moat Cailin."
"We should retrieve our camp." Lord Harwood Fell stated. "The supplies in this dump will kill us quicker than the Northerners would. If we gather our tents and food we can hold them off for months."
It wasn't a bad idea, though Stannis had noticed something when he surveyed the halted Northmen. "How many men was it reported that Robb Stark marched South with, Lord Fell?" The man shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "20,000. I saw barely 10,000 as I looked out before coming here."
"They have been fighting for two years, Your Grace." Lord Fell stated. "Perhaps this is all that's left."
Cregan Karstark snorted. "You fucking fool." He snarled. "Look at the banners he has. No Glover, no Forrester, no Woods, not even a fucking Mormont banner. The Western Houses aren't outside those gates."
"Men die in war. Men desert." Lord Fell snapped back.
"Not Northmen." Karstark snarled. "The main one missing is Reed. No-one knows the Neck like Howland Reed, and no-one is more loyal to Ned Stark's memory than that toad Howland Reed." He turned to Stannis. "They've a plan, or else Stark would simply let his loyal dog of Umber bash the gate down with his oversized fists."
Stannis knew he was exaggerating, but Cregan Karstark made a good point. "Then we rebuild all defences. Get that gate back on its hinges and secure immediately, make sure we have archers lining both sides of the castle." He looked to Ser Justin Massey for those. "And I want a group of a dozen to ride with haste to the camp to bring the prisoner and Lady Melisandre to me. Lord Fell, you can do that at the same time you set up a scouting party to the South. If Lord Karstark is correct, then we may be caught in a pincer." The Stormlander Lord looked unhappy, but he bowed all the same and left with Ser Justin to do as Stannis had commanded. "Do we know how many we lost?"
"Around 300 men, Your Grace." Ser Corliss Penny stated. "Mainly in the bogs while assaulting the walls." That was a good, low figure. "Ser Narbert is the only death of noble blood that we know of."
"Let's just be thankful the savages haven't desecrated his body." Ser Clayton Suggs muttered.
Cregan Karstark, unsurprisingly, took offence to that. "Call us savages one more time you poncey southern…"
"Enough." Stannis stated firmly. "The Northerners have their honour, Ser Clayton. As do we. I have no true quarrel with Robb Stark, and for all I know he thought he was attacking Ironborn just now and retreated after the truth came to him. I will give him one final chance to bend his knee to his rightful King and if he does so no more blood needs be spilled." He looked around at his gathered knights and Lords. "Lord Peasebury."
Robin Peasebury had been quiet so far and was startled into attention by his name sounding. "Your Grace?"
"You will ride out with a pair of guards under a white banner." Stannis instructed. "Tell Robb Stark I wish to speak with him. If he accepts, bring in Ser Narbert's body along with the others that died in his command."
Lord Peasebury gulped. "What if he disagrees?"
Stannis placed his hands on the table, leaning forward. "Then for your sake we must hope Ser Clayton is incorrect and that the Northmen are not savages."
Two hours after the call for the retreat, Robb Stark was once again moving forwards towards Moat Cailin. This time however he was on foot with only Rickard Karstark at his side as they had agreed to meet with Stannis Baratheon.
Robb had heard stories about the man from his Father, and he remembered the early days of Theon's fostering when the Greyjoy had been showing off in the yard pretending to be his father or his Uncle Victarion. Robb had then decided that he would be Stannis Baratheon, a choice which almost threatened to ruin Robb and Theon's budding friendship before it had even started, although looking back on that Robb didn't think that would have been a bad thing.
His time to reminisce was quickly over however as the pair stood watching the gates open, and out stepped the man of the stories. He looked the complete opposite of his elder brother, lean instead of fat, his hair short and balding rather than lengthy and midnight black, though like King Robert, Stannis' beard was greying.
"Lord Stark." Stannis Baratheon was the first to speak.
"King." Rickard Karstark snarled.
Robb held his hand up to stop his bannerman. "We do not need to argue over titles for this conversation, Lord Karstark." He stated before turning back to Stannis Baratheon and his chosen companion. "This is a brave move." He nodded to Cregan Karstark.
"You fucking traitor." Rickard once again interjected, though Robb felt less inclined to intervene here. "Siding with this kinslayer?"
Cregan snarled back. "You left us no choice, cousin. Marching off and leaving us to fend for ourselves? We fought, we lost, we bent our knees to your new Goodson."
Robb had initially brought Rickard with him for that reason, but the elder man's face threatening to burst with how red it was getting was almost making him regret that choice. "My poor Alys, raped and defiled!" Rickard shouted.
"Lady Alys is well looked after." Stannis interjected. "She is currently in Karhold, growing large with child." He looked to Rickard. "Your Grandson will one day be King of the Seven Kingdom's, Lord Karstark."
"There's a man in King's Landing that might disagree there." Robb countered. "A man backed by half of your Stormlords, a man that humbled you in battle, if the stories of Dragonstone Bay are true."
Stannis grimaced. "A dishonourable trickster." He nodded. "I was defeated, it is true. It won't happen again. Especially not if you bend the knee to me and we join together." And there it was, Robb thought. "We need not shed more blood, Lord Stark. Join me and from the North we will defeat House Targaryen once and for all, like your Father and my brother before us."
"You say that like it's an easy choice for me to make." Robb said cautiously. "Like you haven't invaded my lands, stormed my castles, stolen my women." He pointed at Rickard Karstark. "Did you ask Lord Karstark's permission to wed his daughter? No. You did like your enemies did to your own daughter and stole a girl for no more than her claim. You know the history of House Karstark, you know that you have a claim to Winterfell through her, however tenuous that link. If I die along with my remaining siblings then you will push for Winterfell through Alys."
Stannis ignored the taunt about Shireen and thankfully didn't try to deny his logic. "It was a strategic match, it is true."
"And what about House Bolton?" Robb asked. "I hear you put the garrison to the sword, including Lord Bolton's only remaining son."
"Lord Bolton can wed again." Stannis countered. "The bastard was never fit to rule over such a castle, he was nought but rabid dog."
"Perhaps, but you had no right to rid an ancient and noble house of its only possible heir." Robb insisted. He then sighed before continuing. "On my way up here I had a dilemma. I could keep my crown aye and then face the wrath of whomever won out of you and Lucerys Targaryen, or I could bend the knee to one of you. Either the man that my Father died trying to crown, or the son of the man that burned my grandfather alive and murdered my Uncle. All logic points to renewing our old alliance." He waited for Stannis to react, but the Baratheon remained silent. "But then I hear of your attacks on my people, of your religious purging. Tell me, how many Weirwood trees have you burned since being in the North?"
Rickard Karstark snarled at that. "Defiler…"
"There is but one God." Stannis insisted, though Robb could see the hesitation in his eyes.
Shrugging, Robb knew he was finally about to commit to a side. "And there is the problem. The North follows the Old Gods. We have fought off religious fanatics for thousands of years. You will just be one more in a long line of those."
Stannis glared at him. "I am your rightful King." He insisted.
Robb simply shook his head. "House Baratheon took the throne by right of conquest. House Baratheon lost the throne by right of conquest. You have every right to try and take it back, it's true, but you'll have to kill me to do so, because I will not rest until I take Moat Cailin back into Northern hands and rid my lands of all invaders." His glare then steeled as he waited for a response.
There was a tense silence that followed, and Robb thought that Stannis might try and argue his side more. The Baratheon simply nodded curtly however. "As you wish." He snarled, turning away and walking briskly back to the castle.
"You will die tomorrow, cousin!" Rickard Karstark shouted at his kinsman. "You'll die alongside your kinslaying southern cunt!"
"Rickard." Robb warned. "Save your energy. We shall need it to take our lands back." And with that the King in the North turned away from Moat Cailin and walked to re-join his loyal men, steeling himself for what was to come.
The day had started with a uniform march to Moat Cailin, and as the sun set Stannis looked out at a uniform siege beginning to be set up by the Starks to his South. The peace talks had gone poorly and the numbers weren't in their favour, but Stannis Baratheon had suffered through an impossible siege once before, he would do it again if he needed to.
Moat Cailin however was a weak comparison with Storm's End, and as the autumn rains fell from the red, cloudy sky Stannis found himself out on a balcony thinking back on the storms of his youth as he had stood out on the drum tower letting the rain lash against his skin. There was a ferocity to the rains in the Stormlands as there was to its people, and Stannis found himself hoping that the people of the North were as weak as the rains hitting him now.
"Your Grace!" Ser Justin Massey's voice called from behind him, and Stannis turned back into the room where his generals were discussing plans. He noticed one more face in the room, a young, dirty man in light armour. "A scout."
"Speak." Stannis motioned to the boy.
Gulping, the boy looked like he was going to piss himself. "Y… Your Grace… I was with Lord… Lord Fell."
That peaked Stannis' attention. "I was wondering whether he had abandoned me or not. Where is he?"
"Dead, Your Grace." The boy shivered. "An arrow got him in the neck. Everyone's dead. We never even made it to the camp."
An eery silence hit them. "They're in the North." Justin Massey whispered worriedly.
"We can't face a pincer." Ser Clayton Suggs complained.
Stannis held his hand up and silence fell again. Turning back to the boy he asked. "How many are there?"
"I never saw 'em, Your Grace." The boy stated. "But the arrows were slow, there were only a few of us."
"Hiding." Stannis surmised. "To hide their numbers and make us fearful." He looked down at the map and shifted a few of the defensive positions, pushing more to the Northern gate. "Ser Justin, you will command the north. Go and gather your extra men and keep a look out for Northern banners."
"As you say, Your Grace." Ser Justin bowed his head and departed the room quickly.
"What is your name, boy."
"Rob… Robert." The boy stammered, and if Stannis was a humorous person he may have laughed.
"Robert, go and grab yourself some food and get some rest, you have done well." Stannis ordered, and the boy didn't wait around any longer, almost bolting out of the room as if he was being chased by wolves.
"What do we do?" Ser Clayton Suggs asked.
Stannis wanted to roll his eyes. "We fight, Ser Clayton." He said simply. "Kill Robb Stark, and then the Northern Lords will soon fall into line. They have never lost a battle and they're arrogant. One loss may not destroy them, but a loss coupled with the loss of their figurehead will be an important victory for us."
"Do not fear, Ser Clayton." Ser Corliss said as he warmed his hands up by the fireplace. "R'hllor is with us. Should the Northmen attack, we shall send them to their hell with the fire of the Lord."
Nodding his head for the rest of the believers in the room Stannis simply agreed, but he left the commanders alone and made his way through the tower over to his own quarters, where Bryen had prepared a lump of almost stale bread and some awful looking stew. "Thank you, Bryen." He told his squire, before sitting down to replenish himself.
Night had fully engulfed the castle by the time he had finished eating, and it seemed like as soon as Stannis had taken his last bite, the horns sounded to the North.
Outside of Moat Cailin the mood was even darker than those inside it. The Northerners had erected hastily built shelters for the time being but they were barely keeping everybody warm. Robb hadn't moved from his watchful position on the Kingsroad, constantly looking beyond the castle to see if there was any sign of Galbart Glover or the rest of his army. Grey Wind thankfully as ever was by his side, giving the Stark a comforting presence.
Thankfully, the peace talks and subsequent waiting had given Rickard Karstark a lot of time to turn his angry energy towards being creative, and over the rainfall and the shivers of his men he could also hear the clanging of hammers as Arya's blacksmith friend was assisting the Lord of Karhold in creating a contraption for them to get to the gates without being peppered with arrows. It was Lord Umber however that moved over towards Robb with an update.
"Karstark reckons they're all set." The Greatjon explained. "It looks like shit, but it'll do the job."
"That's all it needs to do." Robb said.
Lord Umber shifted uncomfortably. "He also told me what you told that Baratheon cunt." He stated. "You really think you'll have to bend the knee?"
Robb nodded. "We took our independence from a bastard King who murdered my Father. Now he is dead too and on the Iron Throne sits a Targaryen with an army that even we'd struggle to throw off. I don't want to give up my crown, Jon, but every time I look to the future with a crown on my head I see more war, more death."
"Let them try." The Greatjon growled.
Chuckling, Robb looked up at his loyal bannerman. "I appreciate the faith, but winter is coming. I do not want to be worrying about another war with the South when the snows are ten feet high and my people are starving. I won't bend without all of my terms being met, but soon that day will come where I am forced to."
Jon took a deep breath and sighed loudly. "You sound more like your father every day." He stated fondly. "We started off on the wrong foot, you and I, but I have followed you faithfully since the beginning. If the day comes where you do decide to bend to the Targaryen, well I trust it will be because you deem it to be the right decision." He sniffed uncouthly. "And anyway, we beat those bastards once before, if we need to do it again my sword will be hilt deep in dragon blood."
Robb smiled, appreciative. "Focus on Baratheon blood for now." He instructed.
"Aye, right you are." The Greatjon grinned, before his face contorted into one of concern. "The fuck is that?"
Robb saw it too. "Fires." He whispered, and almost immediately he could hear two sets of horns, one of them being distinctively Northern. "Galbert?"
The Greatjon grinned once again. "Fucking finally." He whispered, before turning around and shouting at the men behind him. "COME ON YOU SONS OF WHORES, OR DO YOU WANT THE MEN OF THE WOLFSWOOD TO GET ALL THE FUCKING PRAISE? ON YOUR FEET, FIND YOUR WEAPONS AND STICK THEM IN A SOUTHERNERS BUNGHOLE BEFORE I STICK MINE IN YOURS!"
Robb made sure to step to one side with Grey Wind as the men began to spring to action. The first to push forwards were the archers of House Glenmore, skilfully moving in unison to a position on the road to fire off some flaming arrows and keep the Stormlanders busy until Rickard Karstark came barging through, leading the battering ram, Gendry's roof like contraption over it.
The rest of the men were waiting for Robb's signal, and the Stark made sure to wait to see if the ram could get to the gates in one piece. More archers from other houses had joined at that point, though they had to be closer.
Soon the air was filled with the constant sound of thudding from the ram and arrow fire, and Robb could only stand and wait as his men did their jobs. He looked up at the rush of men on the walls trying to defend the gate and smirked, knowing that this time he wouldn't be retreating.
Less than 24 hours earlier Stannis had been happy with the weaker northern defences of Moat Cailin. Now however as he was stood above them thrusting his sword through the gaps in the wooden parapets he cursed them. Thousands of Northerners had seemingly sprung from nowhere, with banners from the Wolfswood, White Harbour and the Neck all rushing down the Kingsroad towards him in a frenzy. This group were prepared too, with catapults firing rocks up towards them as well spiked ladders to stop the issues of sliding on the mud that Stannis' men had earlier.
The Stormlanders had propped up their own ram against the rebuilt and refortified gate, which was stopping the advance along the Kingsroad, but the number of men climbing the gates had threatened to overwhelm them. Thankfully, Stannis' presence gave the Stormlanders around him a new sense of heart as they beat the Northmen back with anything they could get their hands on.
As with any castle storming however, once a couple of them had managed to climb over the battlements it seemed like more followed quickly. "FORM UP!" Stannis called as in the near distance he noticed a man he recognised from the Ironborn Rebellion as Lord Glover reaching the walls. His men quickly rallied to him, and Stannis decided to push momentum in his favour by leading a charge.
They crashed into the Northmen just getting their bearings, sending three of them flying to their deaths off the walls and into the courtyard of Moat Cailin itself. Stannis meanwhile had made a beeline for the Glover Lord, raining blow after blow towards the newcomer before Galbert missed a parry and Stannis' sword sliced down into his shoulder. Glover roared in pain and tried to push Stannis back, but despite his differing frame to his elder brother, Stannis was still a Baratheon and still had strength. He held his ground and looked for his knife in his belt, unsheathing it and thrusting it into Galbert's chin.
The life quickly left the Northerner and Stannis quickly retrieved his sword before pushing the corpse to one side. As he looked up his section were holding the Northerners back, but a tug on his arm drew his attention to the courtyard below. Northmen were attempting to stream inside the castle walls, though Stannis could see Ser Justin holding them back effectively.
"Your Grace!" His squire tugged on his arm again. "We need to move off the walls or we'll be overrun! We can bottle them through the courtyard!"
Agreeing, Stannis held his sword up to gain his men's attention before he fought his way to the closest set of steps. At least half a dozen men with different kinds and colours of trees tried to get in his way and all of them lost their lives for it. As he reached the ground, he felt pleased at how his men had pushed back and stopped the Northerner advance when a large crash from the South bellowed through the wind and rain.
That distraction was all the Northmen needed to start a new push, and the lines began to falter. Stannis felt like an animal as his sword slashed in all manner of directions, blood spurting out of his victims after every swing.
His toughest fight was just about to come when a middle-aged man with a large two-handed sword came at him. It pushed Stannis onto the defensive for a while, as the man with a white tree on his armour swung at him with a pace that the elder man shouldn't have possessed. Stannis fought back though, and after a few moments of assessing the man's patterns he managed to block one blow with a shield before thrusting his bloodied sword into the man's midriff.
"BARATHEON!" He heard a roar, and as he pulled his sword out of his attacker's guts, Stannis turned to see Robb Stark, breathing heavily and dripping with either blood or rain, he couldn't tell.
The portcullis caved in eventually, and as soon as the gates gave way a few moments after that with a loud crash Robb called the charge. He wasn't even close to being the first man through the gates but he fought like a man possessed all the same. He noticed nearby Rickard Karstark charging down his cousin and severing Cregan Karstark's sword hand before he had to duck and slash open a knight's neck, blood rushing down over the flying pig sigil on his surcoat.
"You won't kill me, cousin!" Cregan Karstark was shouting. "Else you become the kinslayer you hate so much!"
Those were the last words that Cregan Karstark uttered however, as the Greatjon Umber came charging past and swung his massive greatsword, separating his head from his body. "YOU'RE WELCOME YOU OLD CUNT!" The Greatjon roared at Rickard Karstark, before pushing further into the battle.
Attacking from both sides had left the defending Baratheon forces with too much to do, Robb noticed, as his men were convincingly pushing the Baratheon's back. Dozens fell to Robb's blade as they pushed further and further into the fortress, until he could see the northernmost gate and Lord Gregor Forrester leading the assault there.
He was stopped by the envoy from hours before swinging a Morningstar around, caving in the head of a Bolton soldier. Roaring, Robb barrelled into him, knocking Lord Peasebury to the ground before stabbing him half a dozen times in the torso, blood spurting everywhere and covering Robb with the stuff.
Rising to his feet and catching his breath, Robb finally saw the King he had refused, his sword hilt deep in Lord Gregor's chest. "BARATHEON!" Robb roared, catching Stannis' attention as the Stormlander pulled his sword out of a dying Gregor.
"Stark!" Stannis called, wiping his sword clean on his breeches. "Let us end this, traitor!"
Robb snarled, twirling his sword as he stepped towards his foe. "I'd never bend the knee to you, not after your slaughter of innocent Northmen."
"Your Father supported me!" Stannis called. "You betray his memory!"
That angered Robb more than anything Stannis had said or done in the past. "I am not my Father. My name is not Eddard Stark" Robb snarled as the pair were now mere feet away from one another. "I am my own man, I am Robb of House Stark, the King in the North."
Stannis growled at the title and swung his sword, which Robb easily parried to one side. Then the fight began in earnest, with both Stannis and Robb throwing everything they had at one another. Neither of them could break the other despite swing after swing. Robb parried left, hacked right, dodged underneath the Baratheon's sword and thrust out again, but the rain was taking a toll on the ground and soon they both began slipping in the mud.
It was Robb that overextended himself first, slipping and missing a parry to which he felt a sharp pain to his side as he fell to the ground. Flipping over to his back he saw Stannis' blade was coated red again and felt liquid running down his side.
"I gave you the choice, Stark!" Stannis shouted as the rain lashed down loudly. "You chose wrong!"
The Baratheon raised his sword in the air and began to swing it down, only for a fast blur to barge into him, sending both to the ground. Robb groaned as he took the chance to grab his sword again, looking over at the direction just in time to see a soaking and muddy Grey Wind standing over Stannis Baratheon, and wincing at the screams as the Direwolf bore its teeth and dug into the Baratheon's neck.
I'm not going to go scene by scene this time and this outro will be relatively short, but I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The battle chapters are some of my favourites and I've been looking forward to this one for a while.
Next Time: Ring the Bells of Baelor, for there's a royal wedding to be had…
Reviews:
Tony McNucklz: Jon Connington is also gay and was in love with Rhaegar so there is the aspect of not wanting to sleep with a child, not wanting to sleep with a girl, and still being hung up on his silver prince.
RHatch89: Thank you. Dany is a bit possessive having only got Luke and Visenya of her family remaining so she's going to be cautious, but the suspicion isn't just one way… Mira is a character I love including, so having her back here was fun.