Blood and Winter.
Chapter I
"Call the banners." The voice that spoke was firm and demanding, belonging to a lord giving a command to his subjects. It was hard to believe that the voice he heard was his own. But to be entirely honest, it was hard to believe that everything going on was truly real.
His father, imprisoned and proclaimed a traitor.
His sisters, held hostage in Kings Landing.
Everything seemed to be crumbling around him and he could do nought but watch it happen. Except, that wasn't true. There was something he could do, something he was going to do.
March south with an army at his back.
He, a boy having just turned five and ten, marching south at the head of an army to free his father and sisters. Perhaps it was all a cruel joke or more likely, a cruel twist of fate.
"Robb?" His loyal friend, Theon rose as he watched Robb sway slightly on his feet, the full weight of his decision fully catching up to him as Maester Luwin left. The weight was crushing and overbearing, nearly toppling him off his feet as he gripped his chair for support.
"I'm okay." He waved Theon off and took a steadying breath. 'I can't show weakness, I can't. But I, I'm scared.'He admitted to himself, everything had been going so well, or so he thought. And then, everything changed and now, because of his decision he was marching south to war.
And there was nothing he could do.
He was a man of the North with the blood of the First Men coursing through his veins. Honour and duty dictated that he do this, if he didn't, the men of the North would never forgive him and never follow him. He'd be forever stained with the dishonour and the lords of the North would never follow a dishonourable coward.
'It's my duty, as heir to House Stark.' He told himself firmly, taking another deep breath and this time, when he looked out over the empty Great Hall, he was calm, at least on the outside. 'It's my duty as my fathers' son.'
"Are you sure?" Theon asked, looking worriedly over at Robb who gave a sharp nod.
"I'm fine." He said shortly, rising to his full height, arms resting down by his sides. "I'm going to the Godswood, don't disturb me."
The walk was short, Robb quickly walking out of the Great Hall, past the Sept his father built for his mother and straight through the Courtyard. Each of them clamoured with men and women going about their daily business, he paid them no heed. His steps were strong, his strides wide as he stormed through Winterfell till he reached the Godswood and was hit by a wave of tranquillity.
Like always, it was a beautiful place, quiet and undisturbed by men.
Closing his eyes, Robb let himself just bask in the environment, letting it seep into his bones and calm him. He desperately needed it, despite his calm exterior, his emotions were turbulent and wild, fraught with worry and doubt.
And as he opened his eyes, they settled on the one thing he came here to view.
The giant Weirwood tree that sat in the centre of the Godswood. In ancient times long since passed in the Age of Heroes, the founder of House Stark, Bran the Builder had built the Godswood around this very tree. Winterfell, later being erected by the very same man, surrounding the Godswood.
Crouching down, Robb clasped his hands together and bowed his head. It was a pose his mother had taught him when she had attempted to teach her children of the Southern Gods, the Seven. Robb, just like most of his siblings had never taken to the Seven very well, the only one who had was Sansa. Even so, Robb found that the habits trained into him as a child were hard to be rid of and so, whenever he came to the Godswood to pray, he always took this position.
'I need your guidance and aid.' He began, speaking to the Old Gods in the world surrounding him. 'My father, a good and honourable man is being imprisoned in the south unjustly, my sisters held captive and I am but a boy marching to war.'
He paused, debating within himself.
But he continued eventually. 'I am ashamed to admit, but I'm scared. I have never fought in a war and have only recently fought in my first real fight. I'm inexperienced and unsure of myself, and I'm afraid that if I fail, my family will suffer for my actions. So please, I beg of you, lend me your aid.'
…
…
…
However, just like he had expected, but hoped would not be the case, he received no answer. The Old Gods did not answer, only greeting him with silence.
This caused Robb to chuckle mirthlessly, his hands unclasping as he sat down on the warm grass beneath him. "Even now, you are silent." He muttered, leaning back against the Weirwood tree. "Even now, I am not worthy of you."
Ever since he was a child, he had listened to the stories told by his father about the Old Gods, much like every child of the North. He had always believed that one day he would hear them speak, much like his father had said he could hear them. But no matter how much he prayed, the Old Gods had always gifted him with silence.
His father had told him to never lose faith and that the Old Gods were listening and that in his time of need, they would aid him. Robb in his foolishness had believed that to be true, but it seemed, he was not worthy of their attention, of their aid.
"Nay, maybe it is not that I am unworthy, but that you are not real." He said, more to himself than anyone else. Just the idle chatter of a man trying to take his mind off the problems surrounding him.
Robb released a sigh, leaning back fully to rest his head against the Weirwood tree and closed his eyes. Up above he could hear the occasional chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the tree branches swishing and swaying. It was all such a comforting sound, so very peaceful.
Then, things seemed to shift and change.
He could hear the thundering of hooves.
The sound of clashing steel.
The yelling of men as they fought with everything they had.
He could see images flash by his mind, jumbled and blurry. He could barely make sense of everything that passed through his mind. Only making out short images here and there, but one thing that truly caught his mind was the haunting phrase of, "The Lannisters send their regards."
Then it was followed by an unknown voice that spoke to him directly.
Do not lose hope, Robb Stark. We are watching and waiting. The war to come will be long and difficult. To win, you must forsake your honour, but do not forget it.
Shooting upright with a gasp, Robb looked around in shock. His breathing was heavy as he looked around for any sign that would allow him to make sense of what happened.
Yet there was nothing.
Slowly, and on shaky legs, he rose to his feet. 'What was that? I was on a battlefield of some kind and I could see so much yet so little. None of it made sense.' So many images had flashed through his mind in such a short space of time that he had barely caught them all, but now, even as he tried to make sense of it all.
There were images he could not forget.
A lion and a wolf baring their fangs and attacking one another, tearing each other apart.
A Kraken rising from the water and wrapping around a wolf, pulling it into the icy depths of the ocean.
And perhaps the most terrifying of it all.
The sight of a wolf entering two blue towers connected by a bridge, only to come out without its skin, flayed alive. This last image was accompanied by those haunting words, "The Lannisters send their regards."
"What does it all mean?" As he muttered that question, he froze. "Do not lose faith, Robb Stark. We are watching and waiting. The war to come will be long and difficult. To win, you must forsake your honour, but do not forget it." Slowly, he turned around to look at the Weirwood tree in shock. "You are real?" He muttered breathlessly before laughing like a madman.
-X-
Adjusting the strap of his fur cloak, and checking that his sword was strapped firmly to his waist, Robb turned to face his younger brothers. Rickon was stood beside Maester Luwin, the aged man having to hold the young boy's hand to stop him from running off. The young boy's Direwolf, Shaggydog beside him.
Beside him, Hodor, the large stable boy and a loyal vassal of House Stark was stood protectively over another young boy. The boy's name was Brandon Stark, or Bran the Cripple, he'd overheard a few men refer to him as such in hushed tones. He hadn't been able to identify who had said those things, but if he did he'd show them that one did not insult a Stark lightly.
"You'll be good for Maester Luwin?" He asked, crouching down to Rickon. But the young boy didn't answer just turning his head away imperiously, Shaggydog growling angrily at his side. As much as it saddened him, Robb should have expected no less, Rickon had not been happy that his mother, father and sisters had gone south, but now he, his elder brother was also going.
He felt betrayed and alone.
"He'll be fine, my lord." Maester Luwin spoke in the young boy's stead, hoping to put Robb at ease before he marched south. It didn't do much, but Robb appreciated the sentiment.
Nodding his head, Robb stood up and turned to Bran. "I'll trust Winterfell in your hands, Bran. There must always be a Stark here." His words were meant less as a reminder of duty, Maester Luwin and many other loyal men and women would help run Winterfell in his stead, but they were instead meant to be words of encouragement, a reminder that he was a Stark and with a family that loved him.
Bran nodded his head, he didn't say anything either and Robb felt his heart drop. Here he was marching south to free his fathers and brothers, and his brothers seemed to hate him for it, for leaving them.
Yet, despite this, Robb knew he had to do this.
Taking a deep breath, spun on his heel and walked towards his steed held in place by one of the stable boys. Pulling himself up, he settled comfortably on the horse and looked over the assembly of Lords, heirs and noble sons and daughters in his courtyard.
He could see Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort.
Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island and her daughter, Dacey Mormont.
Lord Greatjon Umber of Last Hearth and his son, Smalljon Umber.
Lord Medger Cerwyn of Castle Cerwyn.
Lord Gregor Forrester of Ironrath and his son, Rodrick Forrester.
Lord Galbart Glover of Deepwood Motte.
Lord Halyns Hornwood of Hornwood and his son, Daryn Hornwood.
Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold and his sons, Harrion, Torrhen and Eddard Karstark.
And as he urged his horse forward, they all fell in line behind him. His actions, or should he say those of his Direwolf at the feast earlier this week had earned their respect and despite being the youngest of all the lords here, there was no dispute as to who was in charge.
Along the way, he discretely glanced at both Roose and Theon who had fallen in closest behind him, besides the Greatjon.
The visions he saw had confused him and worried him greatly. However, key bits helped him to piece some of them together, there was no context, no real information that could help him discover the truth behind how they would come to be. But he could at least see what they could possibly mean. From those haunting words, it was quite easy for him to learn that the wolf and the lion indicated House Stark and House Lannister, himself and Lord Tywin. From there, he guessed that the Kraken most likely meant the Greyjoy's. But who in House Greyjoy did it symbolise?
Maester Luwin had advised him to err on the side of caution and so Robb had done so. Even then, he was worried. Did the symbol of the wolf mean House Stark and the North as a whole, or his brothers? And by that logic, did the Kraken symbolise Balon Greyjoy? Or did it symbolise Theon? As horrible and unbelievable as that thought was to him, the idea that Theon, someone he loved as a brother could betray him was something Robb couldn't fully comprehend.
The visions, they told him things, but also kept so much secret.
He didn't know how these visions would come about or even if they would and that is what gnawed at Robb the most.
Either way, he was forced to go forth with the plan he had set out and trust in those men he had left behind to guard Winterfell and his brothers.
With those two images in his mind, at least temporarily and partly solved, Robb had focused on the last vision. The one of a wolf entering two towers and coming out flayed alive. It hadn't taken long to partly figure out what it meant, he most likely would be betrayed by the Boltons, the flaying a past tradition of the ancient house. But the main thing that confirmed this for him was when he heard Roose Bolton's voice for the first time. It had taken every ounce of self-control to pounce and not cut the man down where he was when he heard the man speak. His voice was the one that gave those same words that haunted him day and night.
However, Robb hadn't.
For as much as he did not trust Roose Bolton, nor did many of the Lords in the North like him, he couldn't attack him for no reason. Especially not when the Lord of the Dreadfort was not guilty of any crime; yet.
If he spouted off about visions, Robb had no doubt his fellow lords would proclaim him to be the second iteration of the Mad King.
No, for now, he needed to be careful and focus on winning this war and defeating all his enemies. If the Bolton's and the Greyjoy's became so, then he'd crush them just like the Lannisters.
As the gates of Winterfell opened, Robb and his entourage passed through. Once he did, he was struck by the sight of the host waiting for him.
Twelve thousand men gathered at Winterfell, each waiting to march south to free his father from the Lannisters. They had been gathering over the course of days, a large camp been set up outside, but today, the tents had been packed up and the fires put out.
Now the men stood in loose formation, the sigils hung high showing that all the Lords north of Winterfell had gathered, each of them answering his call to arms. With more to join as they marched down to Moat Cailin.
Robb fought hard to not let the awe and nervousness show in his face, the doubt that had been a constant in the back of his mind came to the forefront and he feared that it would show on his face. Luckily for him, many of his men despite their best efforts were too busy looking at his Direwolf, Grey Wind to notice his state of duress.
Despite only being a few days since the gathering of his bannermen and the incident between him and Greatjon, the creature had grown exponentially large. Whereas before he was no bigger than a normal dog, now he reached up to Robb's hip and he showed no sign of stopping.
Many had wagered that Robb would ride into battle on the beasts back.
That had gotten a chuckle out of many of them.
Remembering the levity of that night managed to calm Robb's nerves. His tense shoulders loosened as he looked straight forwards, his head held high and his face set into one of calm, collectiveness.
'We're coming father, me and the whole North are coming to free you and my sisters. And anyone that tries to stop us will feel our wrath, we'll bring blood and winter to the south. Winter is Coming.'
-X-
Evening his breathing, Eddard closed his eyes. His accommodations in the Black Cells were terrible. He'd already lost track of the days, not a single glimpse of light for him to tell when day gave way to night.
The wound on his leg was no doubt infected, if it wasn't treated soon he imagined he would die. His condition was only made worse by the lack of proper food and sleep he had been getting.
No, Ned imagined he wasn't long for this world if things continued this way.
'But what will become of Sansa and Arya?' He did not want to imagine what the Lannisters would do to his daughters. They were so young and innocent, he couldn't bear the thought of them being in danger. 'And what of Robb, Bran and Rickon? What of Cat?'
The thought of his family was perhaps the single greatest cause of worry for him as he sat in his prison, but it was also the only thing that kept him going strong.
Especially now, he'd been visited by Lord Varys recently who told him his son, Robb was marching south with an army of Northmen at his back. Soon war would come to the Seven Kingdoms once again. But the one thing that worried Ned the most, was the fact that his son was leading them.
There was no denying Robb was a smart lad, Ned had never doubted that. But war was another matter altogether, war changed a man, it showed the deepest, darkest parts of them. His father, Rickard had always told him that in peace, sons bury their fathers but in war, fathers bury their sons. Ned had fought hard in two wars, first against the Targaryens and then against the Greyjoy's, all to ensure his children would never have to go to war. All to ensure that the natural order remained so that it would be his children burying him, and not him burying them.
However, it seemed the world was cruel and had destroyed all his hard work.
Now his son marched south to war against the Lannisters.
Ned would not deny that he was scared, no he was terrified. Winter made men of boys and war made monsters of men. He and Robert had been young when they fought against the Targaryens, but his son was younger still, only a lad of five and ten.
Not even of age yet.
'Old Gods, the Seven, look over my family. Even if you ask for my life in turn, take it. Just save my family, I beg of you.' He prayed.
That's when he heard shuffling outside followed by what seemed to be a struggle. There was a brief shout, but that was quickly silenced after a dull thud of metal being struck hard by something. Again there was more shuffling, and then the door to his cell burst open, a number of men bursting in.
He didn't recognise them, they were no discernible colours or sigils leaving their loyalties unknown to him.
"Lord Stark?" One of them asked.
"Aye," Ned answered with a nod, warily staring at the men across from him.
"We've come to rescue you, m'lord." The same man spoke and Ned frowned. "We haven't got much time, we've managed to secure your daughters and got a boat down at Blackwater Bay waiting for us, but we must move quickly."
"Sansa? Arya?" He questioned, hope and relief filling him and the man nodded.
"Yes, m'lord."
Ned, however, narrowed his eyes. "I was told that Arya had escaped and Sansa was being held hostage in the Red Keep. How am I to believe that you have them and this isn't a ploy?"
"M'lord please, I beg of you we don't have much time. If we don't leave now we will be caught and this will all have been for nothing. I swear to you, your daughters are safe and waiting for you in Blackwater Bay with those loyal to me."
"And who are you, Ser?" Ned questioned, the man sounded earnest but he wasn't just going to trust him straight away. He'd done that with Littlefinger and look where that had gotten him.
"I'm nobody, m'lord, just a simple commoner, a soldier, not a Ser. But the man I work for, he said that I must get you of the city no matter the cost. But I fear if we do not leave now, it will all be for nought. Please, m'lord." The man tried once more and Ned was almost swayed.
But not entirely.
"Do you have something belonging to your lord that I may identify him by?" Ned demanded and the man paused, but he noticed the look of relief on the man's face. He rummaged in his pockets and then handed a brooch out to Ned who took it. As he looked at it, his eyes widened in shock before a smile came upon his face.
"I apologise, my friends, let us be off. I want to see my daughters." Then he would head north and meet with his son, hopefully before everything was too late.
-X-
"Is this true?" Lord Galbart Glover asked, his voice holding a measure of hope to it. A sentiment shared by many of the Lords gathered in the command tent stationed in the centre of the camp.
"Aye, could be," Greatjon muttered arms crossed over his chest.
Robb listened to his Lords mutterings, but he never looked up from the letter clutched in his hands. His gaze flickering back and forth over the parchment as he reads its contents over and over again. He didn't know what to make of it, was it true? Were the letters content true or another falsity meant to give him hope?
To Lady Catelyn Stark,
I bring you good news, Lord Eddard Stark, your husband is safe. My men managed to spirit him out of the Black Cells along with your daughters, Sansa and Arya Stark. They are currently on a ship heading to my holdings where they shall join you soon.
It was not signed.
That was what concerned Robb and the lords of the North the most. If it was true, it was obvious why they didn't sign, it would give the Lannisters and those allied with them an enemy to turn their attention to. But at the same time, by not signing it, there was no authenticity to the letter. All Robb and the Lords of the North could do was take the letter at face value and trust that the contents were true.
But while Robb was willing to do so, others in his council were not. "I think it's a load of bollocks." Ser Brynden Blackfish spoke gruffly from the corner of the room.
He, along with his mother had arrived earlier today having met Robb's main host at Moat Cailin where they were currently camped. They had arrived along with the Manderly host consisting of fifteen hundred men led by Lord Wyman's son, Ser Wylis Manderly. The arrival of the Manderly host had swelled the ranks of the Northern army to over nineteen thousand strong.
"Ah what do ye know about it, Blackfish?" Greatjon shot back, a glare on his face directed towards the Riverlander. "Yer not from the North, shouldn't even be here."
"Greatjon," Robb spoke up, the slowly rising clamouring of his Lords going quiet. "Ser Brynden Blackfish is family, or have you forgotten of what family my mother hails from."
"Nay, I haven't forgotten," Greatjon responded gruffly, nonplused at being chastised so blatantly in front of others.
"Ser Blackfish and any Riverlander that chooses to fight beside us is an ally and comrade, I will not have dissension between us. Only when we stand united against the Lannisters will we win, we can't afford to be divided." Robb spoke firmly, making sure to look at each of his Lords individually to make sure they understood he was serious. "Great-uncle, please speak."
Ser Brynden studied him closely for a few moments silently, before giving a stiff nod in turn. For some reason, Robb felt that he had earned the mans respect at that moment.
"As I was saying, I think it's a lot of bollocks. It's not signed, and there's no mention of where he is, what condition Lord Eddard and his daughters are in. It's more than likely that the Lannisters have gone and fucked up, letting Eddard and his daughters die and are trying to cover it up by saying they escaped."
That was Robb's biggest worry.
Like he had known and like the Blackfish had pointed out, it's not signed and therefore there's no authenticity behind the letter. As much as he hated the thought of it, Brynden words could be correct.
"So, what do we do now then?" Lady Maege Mormont demanded.
Her words sparked off another argument amongst his Lords.
"If I may." Robb looked from where he stood at the head of the table, seeing Lord Gregor Forrester standing close by. "I believe it would be best to continue this campaign as if we never received this letter."
"As if my father and sisters are still held by the Lannisters?" Robb questioned and Gregor nodded his head.
"It's not ideal, but if we free the Riverlands and beat back the Lannisters, it will provide us greater security to find your father and sisters if the letter is true," Gregor suggested and Robb despite not liking it, could see the sense in what the Lord of Ironrath said. "If we don't march south, it's highly likely that we will tear each other apart from the inside and we'll never be able to free your father and sisters or avenge their deaths if the letter is truly a lie. Marching south and fighting the Lannisters will at least keep us united with a common enemy to fight."
"Aye, what you say has some sense about it." Robb nodded his head before gathering the attention of the arguing Northern lords. "My Lords, we'll march south and continue to engage the Lannisters and free the Riverlands. If my father and sisters are truly free of the Lannisters then rest assured, they will come to find us standing strong and the lion retreating with its tail between its legs." His pronouncement was met by a resounding cheer as the Lords slowly trickled out of the room preparing their men to continue marching south in the morning.
"You're good at this," Theon noted from beside him and Robb slowly nodded his head. He still trusted Theon, still saw him as one of his greatest friends, but there was no denying he was wary. The visions he saw clearly showed a Kraken attacking and drowning a wolf, he just hoped that the Kraken was not Theon. The two had been raised as brothers and he could see he and Theon stood side by side, victorious over their enemies and wanted to make that reality.
"It's difficult," Robb admitted eventually, and he was not lying. At parts, he felt lost, unsure of what to do, but at times, leading felt natural, like he had done it before. Either way, he would not deny that he seemed to be doing well, the Lords listened to him, if not respected him.
He just needed to remain strong and firm, the Northmen respected strength. If you weren't strong, they'd never follow you.
"We march for the Frey's tomorrow then?" Robb nodded his head silently, watching Theon look over the map of Westeros. "No doubt those greedy bastards will attempt to ask for a toll. They didn't even fight against the Lannisters." Theon spat angrily.
"My Lords said as much, the Frey's reputation proceeds them," Robb noted, studying the marked location of the Twins, the seat of the Frey's, but then he paused. "Theon, do you remember what the sigil of House Frey is?"
"House Frey? Why?"
"It doesn't matter why! Just tell me, do you know?" Robb shot back impatiently, trying to rack his brain back to the time when his mother and Maester Luwin taught him about the houses of the Riverlands.
"Em, two towers, I think?" Theon responded unsurely, looking at Robb in confusion as he got a piece of parchment and started writing down a note on it. "Robb, are you alright?"
"Not now, Theon!" Striding forwards, Robb burst out of the tent and made quick work of heading towards the Stark encampment in which men of his household were set up. " I need a rider, a fast one!" He called out, a number of his men looking at him in confusion before a younger man stepped forward.
"I'm a fast rider, m'lord."
"Good man, I need you to make haste for Greywater Watch, deliver this message to Lord Reed and only Lord Reed, am I understood?"
"Yes, m'lord." The man took the letter, rushing to his horse and Robb quickly turned back on his heel heading back to his command tent. If what he saw in his visions was true, then the Frey's and the Bolton's would betray him. He couldn't do anything to either of them yet, but he wasn't going to leave him and his men to the tender, non-existent mercies of the Frey's and Bolton's.
-X-
Much like he and many of his Lords had expected, his mother's attempted negotiation with the Late Lord Frey had ended in failure. Walder Frey had amassed a host of four thousand men, bringing troops from its vassals of Houses Charlton, Erenford and Haigh to the Twins making the castle a virtual stronghold, a host of soldiers camped south of the Twins. It was also the only way to cross the Green Fork without going down south along the Kingsroad.
Which was a path they wanted to avoid considering Tywin Lannister was camped there with a host of twenty thousand men.
Robb had hoped to get to the Riverlands before Tywin Lannister managed to firmly entrench himself at the Ruby Ford, but it seems that hope had been dashed. Now he was stuck trying to make a decision between marching south, east along the Green Fork to engage Tywin Lannister, they had equal numbers. But that meant victory would be decided by a difference in commanders and Robb wasn't so sure on his chances of outmanoeuvring Tywin on the battlefield.
He certainly didn't want to risk his campaign ending before it even began.
His next option was to cross the Green Fork at the Twins and free Riverrun which was being besieged by Jamie Lannister with a host of fifteen thousand. The Kingslayer had taken some losses unlike his father as he had already fought two battles. The first in the Battle near the Golden Tooth where he engaged a two thousand strong host led by Lord Vance and Lord Clement Piper, the former dying in the conflict.
He had only taken moderate losses and had then gone on to face his uncle, Lord Edmure Tully and Lord Tytos Blackwood in the Battle near Riverrun. Again, he suffered losses but managed to break the host of four thousand before going on to besiege Riverrun, where he was still now.
With his uncle, Edmure captured the remainder of the Riverland forces had scattered and were apparently under the command of Lord Jason Mallister of Seagard harrying their forces while Tytos Blackwood bunkered down in Riverrun.
With all this, Walder Frey had seen an opportunity and had pounced on it like the parasite he was. He demanded that Robb marry one of his daughters when there was peace while his sister, Arya must marry his youngest son, Elmar. In addition, he demanded that two of his sons, Little Walder and Big Walder be fostered at Winterfell while one of his other sons, Olyvar squire for him.
The demands were long and ridiculous, many of his Lords had been outraged much like himself.
"What are you going to do, Robb?" His mother asked.
"Did Lord Frey say that he would not open his gates unless we agreed to his demands?" He asked in turn and his mother hesitated for a moment.
She then nodded her head with a frown on her face, an action he mirrored as he looked around at his Lords, studying the way they reacted to this news. All looked displeased and disgusted by this, which meant that what he would say next would make more than a few happy.
"I see no reason to agree to his ridiculous demands, the North does not treat with Oathbreakers." There were a few concurrences from the surrounding Lords, even if they all looked confused as to what he planned to do next.
"Do you mean to march south and engage Lord Tywin?" Lord Cerwyn asked. Some looked hesitant at the thought of engaging the Old Lion so soon, while others looked excited.
"Nay, my lords." He indicated to the map. "We shall split our host into two. One host shall comprise of all our foot soldiers and one-tenth of our cavalry. It shall be under the command of Lord…Roose Bolton." He spoke after a moment of consideration.
Robb didn't trust the man, but there was no denying his intelligence. No, if his plan was to work then as much as he didn't want to, he'd have to trust Roose Bolton to keep Tywin Lannister distracted.
"I myself shall lead the second host comprised of the remainder of our cavalry, where we shall march south and free Riverrun."
"Wouldn't that mean crossing the Twins?" One Lord asked and Robb let a smirk cross his features once he saw Howland Reed enter, the man had been absent from the meeting this evening and he gave Robb a nod.
"It does, and thanks to the efforts of Lord Reed, we have all the bargaining power we need to make the Frey's accept our demands." Many of the lords looked to Howland Reed as the man opened the flaps of the tent, allowing two of his men to drag an aged figure into the tent, dumping the figure unceremoniously onto the ground at the feet of the northern lords.
"My lords, let me introduce you to, Lord Walder Frey of the Twins."
-X-
Lord Stevron was not what Robb had expected. Oh, he looked very much like a weasel like his father, but he at least seemed stronger, much like his position as a knight would have one believe, even in his old age. And from his reputation, he was also better than his father.
Amiable and reasonable, who apparently also put a great deal of importance on family.
This was a marked difference from his father who seemed to view his children as nothing but pawns and, as shown recently would take a mile when given an inch, if not more if he could. Even so, looking upon the weaselly face of Stevron's face, Robb was still on guard, a very similar, but aged face had cursed and taunted him nought a few hours ago.
"Greetings, Lord Stevron. I believe congratulations are in order." Stevron let nothing show on his face, his gaze taking in the looks of all the lords around him, all but dismissing Robb due to his age.
Robb tried not to let it get to him, he didn't do very well as a slight scowl came upon his face. If there was one thing he didn't like, it was when people looked down on him due to his age. The earlier argument between him and the Greatjon over what to do with a Lannister spy had aired that problem too many of his lords.
"Thank you, Lord Robb." Stevron greeted in turn eventually, his voice stiff as he realised the full meaning of what Robb had said. By greeting him as Lord, a position only given to the head of a House meant that he was now lord of the Twins and of House Frey. That meant his father was either dead or would be very soon.
Even so, he returned the favour.
Rumours of Eddard Stark along with his daughters escape from Kings Landing had spread across the Seven Kingdoms. Though no one knew what to make of it, was it true or was it false? The fact that Eddard had not been seen since nor had any evidence been given to prove he was alive, the common consensus amongst many lords was similar to Brynden's.
That Eddard and his daughters were dead.
Which meant that Robb was now lord of House Stark and all of its holding.
"Your father as you know is now in my custody. His trial will be held in Riverrun once we free the Riverlands from the Lannister army. I have no doubt that he will be executed as an Oathbreaker."
What went unsaid was that the verdict was already a foregone conclusion, the trial nothing more than a formality.
"The question remains, will the rest of House Frey be punished for his crimes, or will you uphold your oaths sworn to House Tully?" Stevron frowned, he was very much aware that this was not a question, but an ultimatum. He would either uphold his oaths sworn to House Tully or be marked an Oathbreaker.
Now, normally Stevron would be confident in choosing the latter option. Robb needed to cross the Twins in order to relieve Riverrun from Jamie Lannisters host. Or he would either march south along the eastern edge of the Green Fork and engage Tywin Lannisters host. To every man here, it was quite obvious what choice the Northmen should make.
In most cases, Stevron would be content to just wait it out, just like his father had.
Riverrun would fall eventually and with it, nearly the entirety of the Riverlands would capitulate. Then the only problems would be the Northern host which would be still camped outside at the Twins, unable to cross the Green Fork unless they went round, which meant engaging Tywin's host.
However, this was no longer the case.
Walder Frey, his father and previous Lord of the Twins had been taken from his stronghold in the middle of the night, under the noses of four thousand men sworn to House Frey. They didn't know how or where they came from and Stevron had tried hard to figure out how, he still didn't have answers. There were a number of Frey soldiers that were heavily injured until they managed to get ahold of his father and used him as a hostage to escape. But where they came from and how they infiltrated the Twins without being seen until they came close to his fathers quarters was unknown.
But the fact remained, somehow the Northmen had managed to sneak into the Twins and steal his father out from under their noses and if he could do it once, what was to stop him doing it again? It was an unsaid threat that was more terrifying when left unsaid, a silent threat that hung in the air.
In the face of that, Stevron only had one thing to say. "But of course, the gates of the Twins will be open and when you march, the men of House Frey will be at your side."
"Bloody good lot they'll do." He heard similar whispering but Stevron didn't let his displeasure at hearing his house being insulted so openly.
"I'm thankful for their aid." Robb smiled, reaching forward to clasp arms with Stevron who rose to match him. "I'm sure with your aid that this war will end much sooner."
Stevron nodded his head stiffly, he didn't like the position he was being thrust into, but he didn't have a choice.
He just hoped that he wasn't on the losing side. Even with his soldiers added to Robb's host, they were still outnumbered.
"Well then, m'lords." Robb turned to the rest, heading past them to a large wooden table whereon it, was displayed a map of Westeros, numerous wooden figurines dotted around to indicate armies. "The plan doesn't change, Lord Bolton shall march south with our main force including the Frey infantrymen and archers. Make sure it's slow, they'll be expecting me to lead it and in their eyes, I imagine they view me as nothing more than an inexperienced child, don't dissuade them of such a notion."
Lord Bolton nodded his head.
"I shall cross the Twins and march south with the remainder of the Northern cavalry and the Frey cavalry divisions. There I shall relieve Riverrun and crush the Kingslayers host. With him gone, we need only focus on Tywin Lannister."
Cheers sounded at his proclamation.
-X-
"Be safe, Robb." His mother pleaded worriedly as he swung himself up onto his saddle.
Looking down at her, he spared her a smile. It had taken a lot of effort on his side to argue for his mother to not come south with the main army. But he had succeeded, he would set off from the Twins first, his mother following a few days later with a small guard. "Don't worry, mother. I will be fine, I have Grey Wind, Ser Brynden, Theon and all the men of the North by my side."
Even though she nodded at his words, he could tell she was still worried and wanted so badly for him to be out of harm's way. But he couldn't be, his bannermen would never follow a man that did not lead his armies into battle personally.
"Look after him, uncle." She spoke to Brynden this time the man grunting, but Robb paid the interaction no need as he urged his horse round. Theon, Brynden, Smalljon and Dacey Mormont along with many other heirs of the North gathered around him. He had requested this personally, it was said in the past war, his father had fought alongside many of the young lords and heirs of the North in Robert's Rebellion.
It was this act that had fostered such great loyalty and love for him, despite not being raised in the North.
Robb intended to do the same.
Behind them, a host of just under five thousand men followed after him, a mix of both Northmen and Frey's. There was of course discontent and distrust amongst his army, mostly due to the reputation the Frey's had, but Robb was sure that this fight to come should at least get rid of some of those animosities. Nothing worked better to rid distrust between allies than fighting beside one another.
That was something his great-uncle, one of his most trusted commanders and advisors had told him. Robb found it hard to disagree, he just hoped it was true. Tywin Lannister was reputably a genius of warfare and other matters of state. If he learned of rifts between his men, Robb had no doubt the Old Lion would pounce upon that weakness.
Either way, he urged his horse on.
"Great-uncle, take some men and scout ahead, make sure our approach is kept secret. Surprise will be our greatest advantage." He didn't need to see or hear Brynden's affirmation of his orders as he could hear the man calling for certain men before he rode past them at speed.
"So, now we go to war," Theon murmured from beside him, a smarmy grin on his face that hide the nervousness that lied beneath.
"Bah, I'm looking forward to it!" Smalljon exclaimed, a savage grin on his face. Beside him Dacey Mormont remained quiet, her countenance giving nothing away.
"Well, you'll get your fill soon," Robb responded, his face firm. His mind worked hard, playing over every possible scenario just like he had done all along the journey south. No matter how hard he tried, his mind was never calm.
-X-
"It's a victory, my Lord. The young pup ran with his tail between his legs, his entire host is retreating back north. Shall we pursue?" Lord Harys Swyft proclaims joyously, the men around them clamouring and cheering at their victory.
The fools, the lot of them.
It wasn't even a battle, but a small skirmish. For days they had stayed camped at the Ruby Ford waiting for the Northern host to arrive at the Twins. In preparation, Tywin had ordered his army to march up so that his men lay between the east of the Green Fork and west of the Mountain of the Moon, a few miles north of the High Road that led to the Bloody Gate.
There they had entrenched themselves and waited, expecting the Northern host to reach them within three days time.
Except, that was not the case.
Three days passed and scouts reported that the northern army was still moving south. Then another two days passed and still, the scouts reported the same thing, that they were coming. It was ridiculous, he had expected the young Stark boy to be inexperienced, but even he had not expected it to be such an extent.
Then the host finally arrived and he ordered the vanguard commanded by the Mountain that Rides to charge. He hadn't expected much of it, the vanguard was a ragtag group of men consisting of mounted Clansmen from the Vale 'gifted' by his son, Tyrion, fresh recruits, Freeriders and Sellswords.
Overall, it came to about a thousand men.
It shouldn't have accomplished overly much, let alone bringing the battle to an end.
But it had.
As soon as the vanguard led by the Mountain struck the Northern right flank there had been a brief battle in which things seemed to be relatively equal. The initial charge had been devastating, but the northern flank seemed to be holding.
Tywin had been about to give the order to the commander of his left flank, Addam Marbrand who commanded four thousand heavy cavalry to ride and run down the weaker left flank of the enemy.
Only for the entire northern host to withdraw.
It didn't make sense and his men who had been irritated by waiting for so long had nearly given chase to the retreating northern army. It was only because Tywin had anticipated this that he managed to keep order amongst his ranks and instead, watched as the northern army retreated back North.
The question remained, why?
Had the young pup attempted to lure Tywin to give chase only to spring an ambush on him. Most likely, Tywin had only seen a few hundred northern cavalry units, about six hundred in all on the right flank, half of which now lay dead on the field.
'He truly is inexperienced to believe that I would fall for such an obvious ploy.'
As he sits on his horse, he watches as a relatively large, but strong man is brought towards him. The man wore some fanciful clothes marked in blood and mud, but there was no denying that he was of noble birth.
"Your name?" Kevan Lannister demanded from where he was beside Tywin Lannister.
"Halys Hornwood." The now identified man responded gruffly.
"Prepare some chains for this man, we shall take him back with us to camp," Kevan ordered and Tywin went to urge his horseback to the reserve ranks that he had commanded. This skirmish had been a waste of time and night was beginning to descend, it would be best to set up camp in a more defensible location just in case the Stark boy decided to attack them in the night.
It was only when he heard chucking that Tywin stopped.
He looked back to see Lord Hornwood laughing openly now, a full belly laugh as he threw his head back. His loud laughter attracted more attention from other Lannister soldiers.
"What the fuck is he laughing at?!"
"Fools lost his mind."
Tywin ignored the muttering of his men and instead stared at the laughing Hornwood as he was pushed away by a few soldiers. The large Northman taking a number of men just to get him moving once more.
"Lord Tywin?" Kevan asked and Tywin ignored him, instead continuing to follow the figure of the laughing Lord Hornwood.
Why was the fool laughing?
That was not the laugh of a madman, he'd heard enough of that from the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen. No, this was different, this was the laugh of a man who seemed to have accomplished something incredibly funny.
Despite this victory and his confidence, Tywin found himself growing wary.
'Why is he laughing? The young pups plot was foiled. Unless, there never was an ambush, or at least not one set for me.' He realised too late that it was never him in danger of being ambushed. 'The northern cavalry, they did not come down south to engage me, they came south to engage, Jamie!'
With a great deal of urgency, Tywin turned to his commanders.
"Order all the men to fall back from here, we move quickly to Riverrun to aid my son!" Despite their confusion, the commanders serving him didn't hesitate and quickly left and soon his host retreated southwest to Riverrun to give aid to his son.
-X-
Jamie Lannister was many things, a siege commander was not one of them. He just didn't have the temperament for it. Leading a cavalry charge as he cut through swaths of enemies, fighting on the battlefield and killing men were more suited to his style.
Sitting here and doing nothing as he watched the catapults launch boulders into the sturdy walls of Riverrun was not something he particularly enjoyed. He had watched as the projectiles struck the well-built walls and only seemed to leave a few dents and chips. According to one of his military advisors, Andros Brax, it would take another few days before the walls were finally brought down.
So while he had trusted Andros Brax to oversee the logistics of the siege, he had taken command of his cavalry and rode out to deal with any Riverland force that attempted to relieve Riverrun.
Most only numbered less than a hundred and on a good day, there was more than one. It wasn't much, but it certainly helped remove some of the boredom he felt as the siege dragged on. They had been growing more recent with each passing day of the siege, no doubt Lord Jason Mallister knew that Riverrun wouldn't be able to hold for long.
The lord of Seagard was a gifted commander for sure, there was a reason both his father and uncle had recognised him as perhaps the biggest threat in the invasion of the Riverlands. 'Perhaps if Edmure Tully had let Lord Mallister command the defence of the Riverlands then this might have been more difficult. The trout could always take his bannerman's victory as his own as Mace Tyrell did.'
Alas, that was not the case and instead, Edmure Tully had led the defensive efforts and while he hadn't done a terrible job per se, it was quite obvious he was not a gifted commander. Now Jason Mallister was struck trying to free Riverrun and probably would have succeeded if he wasn't so short on men.
"My lord, we've spotted a large contingent of Riverland cavalry heading towards us from the west!" A Lannister exclaimed as he burst into the Kingslayers tent to see him sharpening his blade, already dressed in his armoured in preparation for a possible Riverland attack.
'Finally.' He thought in excitement, rising to his feet. "Inform the men."
The order was unnecessary, he could already hear the movement of men outside and as he stepped out of the tent he could see men already getting onto their horses.
Moving quickly, he took the reins from his squire and climbed up onto his horse, pulling on his helmet. Taking the lance from his squire, he jabbed his heels into the side of his steed and the horse began moving forwards, quickly going into a full gallop as he charged out of the camp.
As soon as he passed the line of tents he could make out the sight of Riverland cavalry finishing off the rest of the Lannister scouts stationed there. From what Jamie could make out there was probably around a few hundred, the largest host that had attempted to come and free Riverrun since the siege began, but it would not be enough.
Gripping his lance tightly in one hand while shifting his shield ever so slightly up, Jamie urged his horse on faster, his cavalry contingent following close behind. The intent was to strike the enemy while they were still dealing with sentries, but it turns out that the Riverlanders had noticed their approach and quickly turned tail and ran.
He laughed at the cowardice shown and tried to coax more speed from his horse.
The enemy numbered a few hundred, his cavalrymen numbered over two thousand. There was only one way this battle was going to end and Jamie felt confidence surge through him as he chased down the enemy cavalry.
-X-
Stabbing his blade down into the neck of one of the sentries, Brynden swung his blade round back on the other side and slashed down at the other lightly armoured soldier who attempted to strike him from the side. Blood splashed into the air and onto his armour and with this brief reprise, Brynden carefully studied the Lannister camp.
All around him, his three hundred strong cavalry unit rushed around and finished off the last of the sentries stationed on the edge of the camp. The shouting of men dying and clashing steel was a sound he had long since grown used to.
Even as he occasionally dealt with a Lannister soldier that hadn't been killed yet, he masterfully dealt with them in short order.
Then he saw it.
It was hard not to, heavy cavalry, especially the Lannisters clad in their red and gold armour were an unforgettable and easily spotted unit, their appearance meant to inspire fear. Brynden felt none of that as he watched the Lannister cavalry charge in his direction.
Instead with calmness, Brynden turn his horse away and shouted to his men, "retreat!"
The Riverland cavalry didn't pause and quickly followed after their commander as he rode off away from the Lannister camps. The Kingslayer, like Lord Mallister, had explained when joining their host at Wendish Town, had a habit of leaving camp to engage any relieving force.
This was something Lord Mallister had already hoped to take advantage of but had been unable to do due to the lack of his men. Except, the northern army provided him with the necessary men and Robb had been more than happy to go along with the more experienced Lord Mallister's plan to draw Jamie Lannister away from the Lannister encampment.
"Ser Blackfish, they're closing in!" One of his men shouted over the sound of stampeding hooves.
Sparing a look over his shoulder, Brynden could see that the Lannister horse was closing in rapidly. But it came at a cost, the neat formation they had adopted was now loose and spread out. It would still be devastating if they hit their rear, but nowhere near as bad as it would have been.
'He sacrificed formation for speed all with the intent of cutting us down. He was right.' He thought, thinking back to the young son of his niece. The young man, despite his youth and inexperience with war, was doing very well. He'd brought the unruly House Frey to heel without a single loss of life on either side, a few injuries sure, but no deaths. And then now, he had correctly guessed how Jamie Lannister would react and he was very impressed. After all, the strategy suggested relied heavily on the formation being disorganised in order to ensure victory.
Because victory here didn't mean simply beating back the Lannister cavalry, but removing it entirely from the equation. With that, not only would one of their biggest threats be dealt with before they even went to relieve Riverrun, but it meant the elemental of surprise would still be on their side.
"Don't slow down, we're nearly there!"
-X-
It was strange, for the first time since he started marching south, his mind was calm. Mere moments before his first battle was set to begin, he didn't feel doubt, nor fear, he was just calm. His eyes followed the movement of the rear of the Lannister cavalry, watching as they chased after the Blackfish and his men.
They were closing in rapidly, but it wasn't fast enough.
From the forest, three units of archers stepped forwards, drawing back their bowstrings and releasing the arrows into the air. Robb had positioned them in three different locations to sow greater confusion amongst the Lannister ranks and to ensure that they couldn't mount a single charge on one unit without leaving their rear and flanks exposed.
One unit was positioned north-east of the Lannister army, another south-east and the final one south-west. He had positioned most archers in the rear as to weaken that area the most so that they wouldn't be able to escape.
And as the arrows whistled through the air, he watched with satisfaction as they came down upon the Lannister host.
He looked at those around him, his personal guards consisting of numerous young noblemen and heirs of the North, there were even quite a few Frey's. It was a concession he had made under his mother's suggestion as to soothe the wounded pride of Stevron Frey, he had even taken on the new Lord of the Twins younger brother, Olyvar Frey as his squire. Even going so far as to say it was the price he paid to cross the Twins, along with fostering the two Frey boys at Winterfell.
His mother had suggested he do this in order to at least give the Frey's something and to stop a growing resentment. Robb and many of the Northern lords had been hesitant, some outright believed they should refuse.
But Robb could see the sense in what his mother suggested and had done so.
Drawing his sword, the men surrounding him, numbering just under two thousand in number did the same. "Smalljon, sound the horn." He ordered firmly as he dug his heels into the side of his horse.
It slowly moved forwards but gradually picked up speed, the host of Frey and Northern cavalry following after this young commander. The sound of a dull horn, sounding like the howling of a winter wind echoed throughout the Whispering Woods.
And it was soon followed by two more horns, one from the north and one from the east.
All of it combined with the stampeding of hooves made for a terrifying sound.
-X-
He nearly had them.
He was so very close and then he had heard it.
It was a sound he had become intimately familiar with since the war had begun, the sound of whistling as arrows cut through the air. 'It's a trap!' It was too late by then as he looked up to see hundreds of arrows descend upon his and his men.
He raised his shield and closed his eyes in preparation, hoping and praying to the Seven that he would survive.
The dull thunking sound of arrows striking shields and armour, the neighing of horses as they got peppered with arrows, cries of men as they were struck by arrows and the crunching of men being crushed by their own horses sounded all around him.
Lowering his shield he took note of the two arrows on it and turned to face his men. His men had been unprepared for an ambush and so he'd lost quite a few. The Kingslayer turned back to see the archers in the tree-line, blatantly stood in full view as if taunting them.
And instead of charging them down, he hesitated, he and his cavalry coming to a slow halt.
"My lord, our rear is under attack!" One of his soldiers shouted and Jamie turned back, trying to see his rear over the top of his men. It was difficult, but he could make out another two units of enemy archers south-east and west of their position.
'They lured us here.' He realised, quickly raising his shield when one of his men shouted out that the archers were firing once more.
Once again the arrows descended upon them, killing and wounding many more, all the while the cavalry stood haplessly in the centre of the open field. Perfect for archers to pick them off one by one.
'I need to do something.' And like always, Jamie only had one thought on his mind when it came to battle. "Charge! The enemy don't have many men!" He ordered and urged his horse forward and his plan was simple, charge and kill the unit of archers north-east of them then swing round and deal with those behind him.
Their scouts had reported that even combined, the scattered Riverland forces only made up around a thousand men, Jamie having done his job of killing any relieving force well. Even with the recent casualties he had taken, Jamie still outnumbered the enemy.
Or at least, that's what he thought as he heard a horn sounding in the distance, two more horns following soon after.
He looked around madly trying to find where they came from, only to freeze in shock. The world around him seemingly grew slower as he watched thousands of men burst from the tree-line and head directly towards him. There were no discernible sigils, but he didn't need them to know where these men came from.
The Direwolf bounding alongside the young, auburn-haired boy coming from the western force.
'The Northmen?! How? Our scouts reported them marching south to meet my father!' He barely had time to think as his western flank was struck by the northern host there, followed soon after by his eastern and then his front.
He was well and truly surrounded.
-X-
Things had gone exactly as planned.
He would lead a host of two thousand strong, half consisting of the entire Frey cavalry and the other half comprised of men from the North. Robb himself would lead the charge, heading directly for the centre of the western flank while Lord Stevron would take his men south and cut off any escape for the enemy.
Ser Brynden with his three hundred men would spin round and join with the two thousand men led by Lord Karstark and attack the front of the enemy. While Maege Mormont would hit it from the side, Jason Mallister led his men through the centre on the eastern flank. Finally, Lord Greatjon Umber would take his men and come south, meeting with Lord Stevron and charge at the enemy rear.
The Lannisters would have nowhere to go.
Raising his sword up, the tip pointing towards the Lannisters he gave a battle cry echoed by the men following him.
It was not even a challenge.
The disorganised and unprepared Lannister army stood no chance against an organised enemy cavalry charge. He swung his sword around and cut through one Lannister soldier as he continued through the ranks, his charge never halting as his blade slashed at every soldier he could reach.
Speed was his greatest asset.
Behind him, horses and riders clashed.
Horses smashing into one another and launching their riders out of their saddles where they wrestled in the ground. Others were trampled to death underfoot. Those that remained seated were cut down by enemy soldiers as the northern cavalry charged through the enemy ranks.
It was a bloodbath.
Stabbing his blade forward into one soldier, Robb struggled to pull his blade free from the armour that gripped it. He could see another soldier clad in red and gold coming at him, from his exposed side hoping to kill him while he had no weapon to defend himself.
However, Dacey was there.
Urging her horse on with great speed as she swung her hammer round and smashed it into the head of the soldier unhorsing him. The man dropped to the ground with a thud, his helmet dented in where her hammer had struck.
Finally, he managed to pry his blade free and took a momentary breather.
The battle waged on around him and while it has only just begun, it was already coming to a close. All around him men lay dead or dying, crying out in pain and effort as they fought with everything they had. Blood and mud splash into the air with every step and swing.
His eyes took it all in, committing it to memory, the atrocities of war. But he shook his head soon after, it would not do to dwell on such matters in the middle of battle. Instead, he turned his gaze to survey the battle as a whole.
The centre had been crushed by the pincer strike caused by his and Lord Mallisters forces.
The rear that had been softened by the Riverland archers were being made short work of by the men led by the Greatjon and Lord Stevron.
The only place that saw the fiercest of fighting was the front, where the Kingslayer was. It seemed the man's presence alone was enough to inspire those around him to continue fighting despite being completely overwhelmed.
'There is still a chance that he could escape.' If anyone could, it would be Jamie Lannister, a man praised as one of the greatest swordsmen in the realm. If he were to gain momentum then there was a chance he would be able to cut his way out of the encirclement and make it back to the Lannister camp. 'If that happens, we will have failed.'
Robb could and would not let that happen.
"Lord Mallister!" He called, the aged Lord of Seagard who was nearby looked from where he too had been surveying the battlefield. "On me!" The man nodded his head, urging on his men to match pace with Robb and personal guard.
While the rear was done for, the centre was still seeing some Lannister men fighting.
However, they were quickly buckling.
Many surrendered in hopes of being spared.
But most were killed before they even got a chance to utter a word.
Robb paid them no heed, leading his men through the battlefield towards the front and it seemed to be done just in time as the Kingslayer burst his way out. He felt a momentary slither of doubt seize him as he watched the skill and grace the Kingslayer showed. His sword cutting through the air and men with ease as he led what remained of his men through the soldiers of the North.
But he quickly affirmed himself, gripping the handle of his blade tighter.
"Kingslayer!" He roared, the son of Tywin Lannister looking to him with a frown, though that soon changed to a smirk.
"Come then, Young Wolf!"
-X-
How nice of the Young Wolf to let him know where he was. It saved him all the trouble of trying to find him. Jamie had long since realised the battle was lost, but he had decided that if he was going to lose then he was going to at least take the young Robb Stark with him.
The only problem with that was finding the Young Wolf in all this mess.
'He sure is eager to die.' The Kingslayer thought viciously, a smirk coming onto his face as he charged to meet Robb Stark's own charge. His blade held loosely in one hand down by his side, the muscles along his arm tensing as he prepared to cut the young boy down where he was.
Or at least that was the aim.
He only caught a glimpse of it, a blur of grey coming at him from the side before he saw it in full view.
The Starks Direwolf leapt at him, its front paws extended, claws gleaming in the moonlight and its maw open revealing sharp and bloody fangs.
Then it landed, teeth digging into his horse's neck and claws scratching along its front legs. Jamie let out a gasp as his horse lurched forward and it was only his quick reactions that saved his life as he jumped out of his saddle in time to avoid being crushed by his own steed.
Even so, he landed with a thud, the wind rushing from his lungs as he looked up at the Moon.
The moon, which was soon replaced by the sight of the growling Direwolf, its fur matted with blood.
Rolling away quickly, he managed to avoid having his face ripped off. Gripping his blade tighter, Jamie rose to his feet and went to swing at the Direwolf only to be then struck by a horse. He felt more than heard his shoulder dislocating as he was flung along the floor before eventually landing on the muddy ground.
Groaning, Jamie lay there for a few moments, his head dizzy and his vision blurry.
Slowly and tentatively, he managed to push himself up by one arm and looked around for his blade. He found one, it wasn't his but it would have to do as he turned to see the battle once again raging around him.
However, he could see the Young Wolf quite clearly.
He stood there on his horse, head held high as he surveyed the battlefield. He gave the occasional order to intercept any Lannister men that attempted to flee, his sword dripping with blood as it rested by his side. As men died around him, the Young Wolf just sat there, calmly as if he was above it all.
Jamie let out a scowl come across his face.
It may cost him his life, but he would at least take the Young Wolf with him.
Even with one arm uselessly dangling by his side, it wasn't his sword arm, no that was fine. And so, he made short work of the men before him. Any soldier of the North that tried to stop him was quickly cut down. Occasionally a blade would sneak past his guard, but his armour would protect him allowing Jamie to spin round and cut them down.
The gap between him and the Young Wolf quickly closed down to nothing. There was a reason that he was one of the most gifted and dangerous swordsmen in Westeros.
But his presence had not gone unnoticed, the Stark boy having turned to view him with disinterest. Jamie would almost believe it if he hadn't seen the way the boy adjusted his grip on his weapon. Even so, it wouldn't save him from Jamie.
He rushed forwards quickly, a young Northmen rushing to intercept.
Jamie parried his blade to one side and swung his blade round cutting into the man's neck. "Brother!" Another Northman exclaimed, charging with a roar of anger towards Jamie who prepared himself.
As the man swung his blade down, Jamie moved around the downward swing and went to strike at the nobleman's exposed back. It would have been a clean-cut if it hadn't been for another blade swinging around and intercepting the strike. He pushed against the blade with his one good hand and followed it along to see the Young Wolf holding the blade. Both their arms tensed in order to push against one another with all they could, Jamie having the advantage of pushing downwards.
He barely had time to think on that before he was tackled to the ground by the Northmen that he had just attempted to kill. The blade in his hand came loose and bounced away from him as the man raised his blade to bring it down.
"Eddard, I want him alive." The Young Wolf ordered when the nobleman went to stab his blade down into him.
"But-"
"I need him alive, Eddard. You will have revenge for your brother later. Believe me, the Kingslayer will pay for his crime, but not yet." The Young Wolf affirmed and while disgruntled, Eddard did so, keeping his blade pointed at his throat.
"Well, it seems you've won this battle, boy." The Kingslayer noted humourlessly.
The Young Wolf just looked at him in disgust. "Eddard, knock the man unconscious, I have no interest in listening to the man's jests." That was the last thing he heard before the nobleman, Eddard struck him across the face with the handle of his blade.
-X-
Watching Eddard knock the Kingslayer unconscious was satisfying to witness.
"Lord Stark, the victory is ours." He frowned slightly at being referred to as Lord Stark but looked to Lord Mallister. It was like all but admitting his father was dead, something he had overhead the northern lords believing to be the case.
"Aye, it is, but the night is not over yet." He responded, looking round over the battlefield. It was littered with the corpses of the dead, his ears filled with the sound of moaning men as they slowly died, a fine feast for the crows.
"Even so, we have scored a great victory." Lord Mallister continued, the older man recognising the signs of guilt upon the young man's face. Commanding men in battle was hard, especially when one learned of the deaths that came with your orders. However, he couldn't allow the young commander to lose hope.
Men already whispered and looked at him differently.
The Kingslayer had called Lord Stark the Young Wolf and it was a title already spreading throughout the men. An army of this size needed a symbol to rally behind and they had one now, the Young Wolf had ridden to their aid and scored them their first major victory, even capturing the Kingslayer.
If the Young Wolf lost hope, then their campaign would be doomed.
"Give it to them, my Lord." Lord Mallister said. "Raising your sword into the air and say the words."
Robb looked at him with a frown before he gave a stiff nod.
All around men watched as the Young Wolf raised his blade into the air.
"Victory…is ours!"
And all around, men cheered to the heavens.
So this is something I had actually written a while ago as to replace the Robb Stark: One True King. It follows a slightly different Robb Stark who is a bit more sure in his beliefs in the Old Gods thanks to the visions he had and bit different in terms of characters thanks to said visions.
The pairing is undecided, but things will be different (no Robb and Talia/Jeyne pairing). Mainly the fact that Eddard has escaped from prison and this will have far reaching consequences all over the Seven Kingdoms.
