Hello everyone, I hope you're all doing well despite of the general crisis outhere. I finally managed to write the second part of this great battle. Once again, it was harsh, I really hope you'll enjoy it. Hopefully I'll update soon, for I really want this sotory to move on. I'd like to thank the only Reviewer of Chapter 9 o whsaid it was one of his favorite stories, it really means a lot to me :)
"Jon!"
Sansa had almost fallen two times, but she did not care. All she could think about was her brother, who was lying on the sand, unmoving.
Jaime and Bronn were right behind her, rapidly distanced by the woman's urge to be near her brother. Tyrion saw the emotion on Sansa's face. It was the first time in a very long period she appeared so desperate.
"He still breathes," Tyrion declared as the Stark girl sat next to Jon.
Arya was still standing, observing the scene with distance, barely surprised to see her sister arrive.
"Where's Bran?" she asked coldly.
Sansa did not hear.
"Where's Bran?" she asked again.
"Your brother is in the royal chambers," Jaime answered. "He's safe."
"No, he's not!" Arya spat. "They're coming for him. He deceived them."
"The girl is right," Tyrion said as Bronn cut the knot of his ties with his blade. "It is our King they're after now."
"We need to bring Snow to a safer place first," Jaime declared.
"Aye," Bronn agreed, "and we need to do it quick!"
"We can't move him," Sansa realised out loud. "His wound is too deep, it would only make him bleed more."
When they all looked at each other, they realised Arya had vanished.
The Mountain charged Ser Brienne, but she managed to avoid his thump with a quick jump. Gendry could hear her roars. He knew Brienne of Tarth was one of the best fighters in this world, but he also knew she would die without any help.
He had to react.
"Get the others," Gendry commanded the man in front of him. "Reach the Keep and help the Northmen troops there. We need to protect King Bran."
The man nodded, and then, Gendry started to run again. He knew this was madness.
"My Lord!"
The man's voice was nothing but a weak noise echoing in Gendry's mind. All he could focus on was his legs and his hammer. Brienne was rolling on the floor, avoiding the Mountain's smashes, trying to hurt him with her sword, but it seemed vain.
If the Mountain was strong, his strength made him slow.
Brienne turned her head and saw Gendry Baratheon charge Ser Gregor, a savage growl coming out of his mouth. It was as if he had just appeared. Gendry smashed the Mountain's knee with all the strength he could gather. A loud crack was heard as the bone broke.
Brienne stood up, ready to fight again, as Gendry managed to avoid the Mountain's grip and ran to the opposite side.
Sandor followed the shouts that had caught his attention. It led him to one of the streets surrounding the Keep. Many soldiers were running in his direction as he approached, fear distorting their pale faces. What were they running away from? He looked around and saw that there was no Unsullied and no Dothraki. He automatically unsheathed his sword, feeling the strength in his arm as his hand clamped around the pommel. A loud growl went off the streets, and the Hound felt the blood freeze in his veins.
Gregor. Gregor was near.
He clenched his jaw and ran as fast as he could, only trusting his ears. He rapidly reached a bigger street, and finally, he saw his big brother. The latter was as high as he remembered, wearing a dark armour, his eyes as weird as the last day he had seen him. He seemed still dead, and yet alive.
Alive enough to be killed, thought the Hound.
"On your left!"
Another voice caught his attention. Gregor still did not notice his presence, but Sandor saw the young Gendry Baratheon standing behind the beast. Was the boy completely mad?
He suddenly understood who the man was addressing. There, on her knees, covered with mud and blood, Ser Brienne was facing the Mountain.
She was yelling as if it was her last fight, and it seemed she had managed to face Sandor's monstrous brother. She was trying to get back on her feet, her sword glinting in the moonlight, but the Mountain was about to charge her again, as if she was nothing but an ant walking near his gigantic feet.
Suddenly, a noise made the Mountain pause. Gendry looked in front of him and saw another man standing in front of the monster, several meters behind Ser Brienne ; The Hound.
Ser Brienne looked behind her and saw Sandor Clegane. The man was breathing loudly, but standing tall, fierceness strong in his eyes as he looked at the Mountain.
"Hello, big brother," the Hound said.
Brienne looked at the beast, and realised she had lost all of his attention.
"They've managed to hurt you, as I can see," Sandor declared as he walked towards Gregor, his sword now high in the air.
The beast stepped over Brienne as if she was not here anymore. She felt a thick liquid through her throat and spat on the ground, her blood mixing with the mud. Gendry reached her.
"Ser Brienne, are you alright?"
She was not. She could not feel her knees, the flesh of her arm was burning her like wildfire, and she was pretty sure her nose was broken, according to the blood running through her nostrils.
She did not answer the boy, only focusing on the Clegane brothers.
"You have to get up!" Gendry husked as he gripped her shoulders.
The pain made her wince, but she managed to stand.
"We need to leave!"
The boy's supplication was vain. Brienne watched as Sandor charged Gregor with the quickness of a mad dog.
He cannot face him alone, she realised.
"Ser Brienne?"
She removed Gendry's hands and started to walk towards the fight.
"Reach your men. Protect the King," she ordered.
"I won't leave –"
"I said, protect the King!" she angrily yelled.
Gendry looked at her and understood she was resolute. He ran away, trying his best not to fall down despite of his painful leg. Brienne saw him disappear and turned around. Sandor was on his abdomen, almost biting the dust and about to be smashed. He rolled over to avoid the blow. He stood up, ready to charge again, but heard a woman's violent shout as a sword pierced his brother's leg.
"Jon? Do you hear me?"
Sansa's voice was broken. She was holding her brother against her, trying not to cry as she tried to get his attention. He was so pale. So weak. But his eyes were still open, his dark eyes that were locked with hers.
"I'll be fine, Sansa," he said.
She could not believe him. She could not lose him. How stupid she had been! He had been waiting for her in his cell, and she had wickedly avoided him because she could not face his sadness. She could not let him go.
"Please hold on. Bronn and Tyrion are looking for help."
Jon nodded in silence. She could see he was in pain, all she wanted was to make it stop, but she felt so lonely. The waves were peaceful and low, a soft wind was caressing her cheeks. It would have been another quiet night, if Men were not so wicked.
Her brother suddenly growled as the pain disfigured him.
"Your Grace…"
Ser Jaime's voice made her lift her head. The Lannister was sitting next to them ; she could see the soreness in his glance as he declared:
"We need to move him."
"We cannot, he'll bleed more wthout any stretcher. We have to wait."
Jaime seemed lost. Was he concerned about Jon Snow's will? Why would it matter to him? Jon wailed again and it made Jaime react. He showed Sansa the flask he always kept near his belt, the one Maester Ilmon had given him.
"What's this?" the Stark girl asked.
"I cannot tell you exactly what's in it, for I have no idea. Maester Ilmon gave it to me. For my leg. It eases the pain. Maybe it'll do your brother some good."
Sansa silently observed the flask, and then her eyes were locked on Jaime's face. She had a strange feeling. Weirdly enough, it appeared the Lannister seemed to care, but she could not stop the thoughts that was in her head: maybe it was poison. Ser Jaime was a Lannister after all. Cersei's lover. Lord Tywin's golden boy. The man who had killed two monarchs in one life.
He was considered a man without honour. He had fought against her father decades ago, a few days before Eddard Stark was executed on the Capitol.
She shivered. He was Joffrey's father.
And yet, all she could see were his eyes, the concern in them. Jaime did not move, waiting for her approval, still holding the flask in his hand. It was as if he was aware of the inner fight that was taking place in Sansa's mind. As if he understood her doubts – and yet, he remained silent.
Jon gasped violently. The girl looked at Jaime and finally nodded. Jaime approached Jon as Sansa opened his mouth. The man was as cold as ice, his eyes were nothing but a blurry darkness, as dark as the night all around them.
As he dropped some drips in Jon's mouth, Jaime realised the man in front of him was Eddard Stark's bastard. The man he had been once would have spit on Jon's dead body. So many things had changed. Now, he was the fool who was hoping the Bastard would survive. For he knew his sister would not be able to face her life without another sibling. The Stark children had seen too many of their clan die – mostly because of Jaime's family – and he could see the pain in Sansa's eyes. She looked like a child. The same child she had been when Westeros had started to collapse.
Arya ran as fast as she could. She had killed Grey Worm. It was done. She could not realise what had just happened, and yet here it was. She could feel something here, in her stomach – was it guilt ? No. She was a killer. She had become a killer, and there was no place for guilt in a killer's life. After all, she had told Grey Worm she did not want his death.
But death always happens anyway.
She needed to focus on Bran. That was all she was here for: her family. The only ones they truly cared about. Were the Starks the only ones?
She managed to get to the second floor, where the royal apartments were. Several soldiers were guarding the main door, to her strongest relief. They were Northmen, therefore she did not have to explain herself. All they saw was the young Arya Stark – the hero of Winterfell – walking towards them, her face and clothes covered with dust and blood. All were incapable to state whose blood it was. Hers, or somebody else's.
"Where's my brother?" she inquired coldly.
"In His room, My Lady."
She almost laughed at their faces. She was no lady, could not they see that right now?
She thanked the man who had answered her and opened the door. When she entered, Bran was silently observing the flames of the fire. From where she was, Arya could only see the back of his head. She was certain Bran had heard the door open, but he did not even move. Arya knew he knew it was her. It was one of his numerous faculties now.
"Is everything alright?" Arya asked.
No answer.
"Where are the soldiers?" she insisted.
"I told them they could leave. The Unsullied won't come for me now that their leader is dead."
What was his plan?
"They attacked us. You've deceived them."
"Indeed. I deceived them. I insulted them. Now, they rioted, but their attempts are blocked. They have nowhere to go, no one to tell them what to do. They won't last long."
"They are thousands of thousands. We're outnumbered. We won't last long."
Arya was trying to understand her brother's motives. In fact, she was scared. She approached Bran, trying to get his attention ; but all she could see in front of her were empty dark eyes focusing on the fire, each iris glinting with the reflect of the flames.
The man in front of her was not her brother. Not anymore. Now, she had her proof.
"We have hope, Arya. People from Westeros have a ruler, a land, families to fight for. What do they have now?"
"Do you really think they're going to leave Westeros from their own free will?"
"I don't think it. I know it."
She processed this sentence. They had travelled to follow a Queen that was now dead, their leader was dead. What did they have left now? This land had been their doom. They had nothing to fight for, nothing but their dignity.
They all needed to stop the fight. To negotiate. But how ?
"The Unsullied will never surrender, Bran."
She lifted her head as no answer came. A shiver came through her spine as she saw that the dark iris had become completely blank.
Sansa felt a great relief in her heart as she saw Tyrion running towards them, five Northmen behind him. Jaime got up, a smile on his face as he looked down at her. The potion he had given to Jon had stopped his pain.
"Looks like we're not alone anymore," said Jaime as he tightened his grip around his crutches.
Sansa looked at Jon, her heart melting as she saw his eyes were still opened. Two men arrived with what looked like a stretcher. She stood up to welcome her men, and felt Tyrion's eyes locked on her. The man was observing her with what she thought was pride.
"We need to move him quickly, Your Grace," declared one of the soldiers as the other slowly lifted Jon on the stretcher, making him wince with pain. "He lost too much blood."
"Do what you must," Sansa ordered. "Make sure to find a Maester."
Brienne could feel her heart pounding in her ears, her blood running thick through her veins. She had faced great fighters in her life. She had almost killed the Hound. She had struggled against the Dead, Ser Jaime fighting right next to her on top of the great walls of Winterfell. But now, she was out of her strength. She received another punch and her head hit the floor, making her blood mix with the dust. Her blue eyes were witnessing a fight she had never thought she would be a part of.
The Clegane brothers.
She suddenly heard Sandor's loud scream and lifted her head, trying to get on her knees despite of her shaking arms. She could see the Mountain had managed to catch the Hound. He was holding him by the neck, lifting him a few inches from the ground. Sandor's voice was nothing but a weak growl as his brother's gruesome hands were tightening around his neck.
Brienne shouted as loud as she could to get Gregor's attention, but it failed. After, she was not his priority. She had managed to hurt him badly though, she had pierced his leg through the bone, but for some unnatural reason, the monster was still able to walk.
She felt her heart miss a beat as Gregor violently sank his thumbs right in Sandor's eyes. She had seen him doing such a thing before. With Oberyn Martell. Right before his skull had blown up.
She stood at last, and yelled again. The thing in front of her was dead, she had killed the Dead. She looked at her sword. One of the rarest steel in Westeros.
She ran over the Cleganes, hearing Sandor's painful shouts as her brother was piercing his eyes. She saw him stick a knife right in the Moundain's head, making him loosen his grip. Sandor fell to the floor, one of his eyes bleeding on his face.
"Die! Die you fucking bastard!" he yelled as he tried to stand up.
Brienne jumped and slashed the beast right through the junction of his neck, where its armour let appear a thin bit of flesh. The Mountain shouted and took away the blade from his neck, letting the blood spread over the metal, deeply cutting his hands in the process.
Brienne's sword landed a few meters away, but she knew she could not reach it and remain unscathed.
She had to follow another plan. She ran and avoided the Mountain's slash, internally thanking her legs for their quickness, and unsheathed a dagger. She needed to deepen the cut she had made, to weaken the beast.
She got on her back right between the Mountain's legs and stuck her dagger in the wound she had caused a few moment before.
Sandor got up and saw Brienne of Tarth was – somehow – still alive. She was facing Gregor with quickness. His eyes were burning him, all he could see was redness and scarce shapes. The bastard had hurt him pretty badly, but he did not care. He knew this fight was the last of his life.
"My sword!" Brienne yelled at him.
Sandor looked on his right and saw the great Lannister sword glinting in the moonlight, its blade covered by blood. He tottered quickly and managed to get it. Brienne shouted as she clung behind the Mountain, holding its back, sticking her dagger in the cut to open it wide. She felt two big hands get her shoulder and squeeze her as if she was a doll. She fell to the ground, feeling a great pain in her shoulder, realizing her arm was not responding to her brain anymore. She had driven the Mountain crazy, and now she was paying the price. He head hit the ground again, the pain yelling in her mind, as a great shadow overwhelmed her. She looked at the beast that was about to kill her in any moment. She was ready to meet the Gods.
Please excuse me, Lady Sansa. I tried.
She closed her eyes, but another noise made her open them automatically. All she could see now was what seemed to be an headless body standing up in front of the moon. It was about to collapse over her, and Brienne managed to avoid the smash by rolling on her left.
She rose her head, her body shivering like a leaf as the cold of the night caught her, mixing with the adrenaline of her blood. She saw the Mountain's head roll right next to her, as two red eyes observed her in a morbid way. It was as if the head was still alive, its eyes piercing Brienne's mind.
All of a sudden, a blade speared the head from one ear to the other, and the redness of the eyes disappeared instantly. She looked up and saw Sandor was holding her Oathkeeper's blade.
The moment after, the man collapsed on the ground, completely supine.
I really hope you've enjoyed this one. Please Review, it'll be so helpful!