The Siege had been underway for four months, while supplies have been coming in from Iron Harbor the construction of siege engines has been slow. The sorties from the castle were halted from the castle after the plan had nearly worked. They successfully drew out the garrison's riders far enough to be encircled and a charge made on the gate. Yet the men who held the gate fought like lions and constantly dropped stones and heated sand on the men who charged the gate. Even then it was a near thing, but they were thrown back.
Daeron had come up with a new plan to use a handful of jars of wildfire to burn down the wood and iron portcullis of the main gate. Jon had to admit that the plan was clever if a bit mad. But even the pure iron portcullis of the inner walls would weaken if not be destroyed by the concoction. Though he would rather not be the man to deliver it to the gate.
Now though it was time to put the plan into motion. Jon rode alongside Beron many other Northern knights, noble lances, and druzhina. Daeron had granted them the honor of leading the vanguard after the gate was broken. Arrows, bolts, scorpion bolts, javelins, and rocks were raining down on them like a fierce autumn storm. The screams of the dying filled the air, creating an eerie feeling paired with the twilight of the sun dipping below the horizon. The men that Daeron picked for the mission did their duty and laid the jars of wildfire at the gate.
Jon heard the war cries of House Rsywell's riders. He turned to see them ride with the same reckless abandon that made House Ryswell famed throughout Westeros and the mounted archers who could put the Dothraki to shame with their weirwood recurve bows. He saw Theo weaving in between men, horses, and pavises. Loosing one arrow after another, until he pulled an arrow with a tied rag soaked in oil and pitch. A man-at-arms is holding a brazier mounted on a long pole of reinforced ash. Theo thrust the arrow into the brazier and withdrew it fully alight. Theo knocked his bow, drew, and loosed it. The arrow flew and struck the jars of wildfire. A large explosion of emerald flame erupted. Pavise caught the flying and burning shards. Even though they were covered in raw hide and soaked in water beforehand. Jon heard his lord father and Daeron order the men to drop the pavise and withdraw. The wildfire had to burn out before it was safe to push forward. Though Jon could see that it worked.
It took some time before the wildfire burned out but as it did, Northern and Royal heavy lancers and knights charged racing towards the castle gate before the Dornishmen could mount a defense with a spear wall. They made it.
Lances penetrated wood, steel, wool, flesh, and bone. The cries of the dying clashed with thunder of the hooves from charging war horses. The fighting was fierce. Yet Jon kept pushing forward. Fighting to take the castle as quickly as he could. Jon saw one of the Knights of the Kingsguard pull ahead hammering down on the Dornishmen with his flanged mace. By the weapon Jon knew which White Sword it was, Ser Osric Royce. A large stone hit Ser Osric in the head, forcing him to drop his guard. Jon figured the stone must have caused him to lose consciousness. Then the White Sword's body jerked backwards and he fell from his horse. Crossbow bolt sticking out from his neck having gone straight through his mail aventail.
Jon looked up and dozens of men on the roofs and other elevated places armed with various ranged weapons. They began to loose their deadly assortment of weapons. Jon raised his shield, catching several arrows and bolts. Jon scanned his surroundings and saw more rushing out of the houses and buildings. He realized that they had fallen into the same trap they had set for the Dornish before.
A shout broke through the cries of the dead and dying, "To the King, protect the King at all costs"!
It was Beron's voice. He was by Daeron taking arrows and bolts meant for Daeron on his shield. Knights and Men-at-arms gathered around Daeron to protect. Jon knew that it would be a temporary measure and they had to keep fighting and keep moving forward.
Jon yelled, "Don't stop men! No matter what Keep pushing forward!"
Jon pressed forward hoping to draw more of their attention and allow his comrades to counterattack the ambush. Wraith moved like the silent spirit of death itself alongside him tearing out the throats of those who opposed them, He pressed for. Hacking, slashing, and stabbing his way through.
His father and Garmyr with a handful of Northmen and southron knights followed behind him. Many of the Dornishmen weren't wearing steel armor and his sword cut through the relatively thin Dornish gambesons. Blood splattered his arm and armor. Turning the white wolf on his shield and surcoat red with blood.
The Dornish were still trying their best to keep up the hail of lethal projectiles but they're ambush was faltering; they couldn't keep them pinned in the kill zone or kill that many knights, men-at-arms, or lords of renown.
He pursued the fleeing Dornish through the gate of Yronwood's citadel. As they couldn't close the portcullis and doors while their men still were passing through. This proved to be their downfall as Jon and the others were coming down on them hard.
An hour had past of hard fighting and the Dornish ambush had completely failed and they were routed. The Keep was the only stronghold left, but there were still pockets of resistance. As they had brought up a ram along with fresh men to lead the assault.
The Defenders still rained arrows, bolts, javelins, and stones down upon them. But received plenty of arrows and bolts in return. Fresh men came up to replace the fallen men at the ram. Jon hears the steady crack of the ram hitting the wooden doors. The doors are finally broken. The men at the front drop the ram and attack. Jon charges ahead to help bring the siege to a close.
The fighting in the keep is even fiercer, yet Jon presses on. Cutting one defender down after another. Eventually he came to a room with a single defender outside its door. It was an older man, but well armed and armored. His surcoat showed the sigil of House Yronwood. Jon summarized that the old man must have been the Castle's Master-at-arms and the lady of the castle and her family must be inside the room behind the old knight.
Jon said, "Yield, and I am sure King Daeron will let you take the Black and spare the lives of your lady and her kin".
The old Knight said, "Never".
They came together in the dance of death and steel. Sword rang out against sword. The impact crack of oak resounded off the corridors. The old knight was skilled but slower than the knights he faced in the Boneway.
Jon decided to let the old man tire himself for a while. Parrying or catching the old knight's sword strikes with a determined focus. The old knight's strikes and parries came slower, having to rely more on catching Jon's own sword strikes on the shield.
Jon saw the opportunity and went on the attack. With the speed of lighting and the ferocity of a direwolf, Jon launched his attack. The old knight was pushed back and down to on knee, Jon bashed his shield into the old knight's helm. The bash sent to the old knight onto his back dazed from the impact. Dropping his shield, Jon placed a foot on the old man's sword arm and took his sword with both hands above the old knight's head ready to drive his sword through.
Jon said, "Yield, you fought well today. You have no need to die.".
The old Knight said, "Better to die than let my kin be taken away in chains".
The old knight tried to fight to his last, but Jon drove his sword through the mail aventail and the old knight's skull.
He picked up his shield and kicked the door open. When the doors slammed open and gasp was heard and Jon found more than he was expecting.
It was a sept and filled with women, children, and greybeards who were too old or crippled to fight. An older handsome woman in fine silks stood up first from near the altar where she had been kneeling before a Septon. Most likely praying, Jon thought.
Jon was no fool, while there was a retinue of Northmen that accompanied him and his father who were selected to fight along Daeron, but the main vanguard was made of Stormlanders who had been besieging the castle for close to half a year before Jon and the Northern host had rejoined the main host. Along with having fought the Dornish for centuries. The Stormlanders have been hungry for battle and blood since the campaign began, wanting to bleed the Dornish as much as possible.
Jon was no stranger to what happened in a siege. Especially when the men's blood was running hot from battle.
The woman said, "Who are you, Ser? If you are a ser. This a holy Sept and you are defiling it with your bloody…" She stopped and her eyes were looking past Jon.
Jon realized that the old knight must have been kin to her.
She recomposed herself and the look of grief turned to pure iron. Hard and unmoving.
She said, "It seems you have slain my noble father and that you must be in service of our attackers. As you can see we are unarmed. We were simply praying in this holy sanctuary. I assume you have come here for our surrender. We shall yield if you promise safe conduct for my people, not just in this holy place".
Jon said, "My lady, you have my word. No harm shall come to you, your kin, or your smallfolk. You are under my protection as my captives. Anyone who dares lay a finger on you or yours, shall die by my blade".
The lady asked, "A bold promise for one who sounds so young. May I have my captor's name"?
Jon replied, "I am Ser Jon Snow, son of Ser Rickon Stark, heir to Winterfell. I presume you to be the lady Gwendoline of House Yronwood"?
The lady said with strangely even colder eyes glaring at him, "I am. I am surprised a murderous Northern barbarian knows who I am. Did you even offer my father quarter"?
A girl gasped and said, "Mother"!
The girl was pretty, with her sandy blond hair and blue eyes. Perhaps around Jon's own age, mayhaps a year older.
Jon said, "I offered him quarter, but he refused to yield. He was a true warrior. You have my word on the honor of my father's House".
Before she could answer Jon heard the heavy footfalls of armored warriors. Jon turned around and saw a half dozen men led by a large man wearing a surcoat of two white fawns on a green field quartered with the crowned Stag of Baratheon. A marcher lord was bad, but this one was worse as his mother was one of the Four Storms. Jon had seen how bellicose the man was and Daeron had told him that the man was considered one of the cruelest and most promising young knights of Stormlands.
Jon entered into a guard stance and said, "Halt! The lady of the castle and her people are my captives and are under my protection"!
The Caffren man said, "I take no commands from some Northern bastard. These Dornish whores and bastards will die once we cut you down. Though perhaps I may take that pretty young one as a bedwarmer".
Jon simply said, "I am not surprised a southerner is as monstrous as you are. But you are no Stag, just a fawn over bold fawn who is as monstrous as his traitor mother, but direwolves are deadly hunters".
The Stormlanders came at Jon but Jon stood his ground, parrying all strikes against him or intercepting any who sought to get past him.
The song of steel and death roared like thunder and the tempo was as fast as lighting. Jon slew one, but nearly took a lethal blow had he not intercepted with his shield. These men were fresher than Jon, they had not been the first through the gates or where the fighting was thickest like Jon had been. Jon could feel his own sword move slower and he was forced to take more blows upon his shield.
Jon pressed the attack against the Marcher Lord, hoping to defeat him, in order to stop the fighting. But as he pressed his attack the man-at-arm was closing in on him.
He felt something approaching, it was a familiar presence, it was his other self, Wraith.
Wraith leapt at the man-at-arm as his namesake and started tearing into the man-at-arms.
Jon continued pressing his attack on the Marcher Lord. Yet the Marcher Lord countered with his ax. Chopping Jon's already battered shield. Jon quickly tossed his shield away and took his sword in both hands.
Jon parried strike after strike, before he saw his opportunity. The Marcher Lord over extended his chop. Jon quickly struck back with a pommel strike and then grabbed the Marcher lord's helm with his left and drove his sword through the slits in the marcher lord's barbute. Slaying the Marcher lord.
Jon's breath was heavy with exhaustion. He had been fighting constantly for hours in a bloody assault of the castle. Now he was feeling it.
The Lady of the Castle approached him and said, "I thank you ser for protecting us and you have my eternal gratitude for protecting my daughter and her virtue from such vile curls. I yield the castle, myself, and those under my protection to you".
Jon said, "I thank you, my Lady. I promise you shall be treated as befit your station.
Jon saw the Yronwood maiden behind her mother in the Sept and the look she had was strange to Jon, the closest Jon could liken it to is that of a puppy's eyes.