A/N: Here it is, the big battle scene that you've been waiting for, and truly where the war becomes real. We've got three POVs for an action packed battle, and unfortunately nobody correctly guessed the twist, but three of you got close - chankljp at AH, Tyrialfrost at SB, and JedaKnight27 at AO3, so each of you can PM me for your short sidestory ideas, and I'll eventually throw them up into a sidestory within the Roseverse.

I hope you enjoy this battle, and the many interesting twists and plots that I've concocted - I hope it's a realistic depiction of one! Next, after this chapter: an interlude with our favorite players on the warfront before we jump into the Great Council of Bitterbridge!


The Liberation of Riverrun

Jon

"Grey Wind, with me," Jon commanded, as a small force of seven, and a single direwolf lurked silently

The invasion plan had been simple at first, in Robb's war council the night before, or so Robb explained. The best way to break the hostage situation, Robb knew, was to sneak in someone experienced and draw a diversion towards the main battle to ensure that the Lannister forces controlling the castle would be too distracted by the invading force outside to notice the small invasion at the heart of Riverrun.

At first, Jon had protested, noting that there would be nothing to stop the Lannister forces from killing their precious hostages, but Robb noted that with the potential rumors of Genna Lannister and Emmon Frey as hostages to trade, Stafford Lannister would be too enticed by that possibility to consider killing Hoster and Edmure Tully, so long as they had hope of rescuing their hostages.

"Alright, here's the Water Gate - it's a good thing we got that message into the household. This entrance will not be the entrance the defensive force will leave from, so we should be safe here. Send the signal, Jon." The Blackfish said, in newly worn, dark grey armor.

Jon nodded, drawing into himself and finding what he knew to be Ghost's mind from long hours of warging practice and dragged himself into it. Suddenly, the alien sensation of seeing outside with Ghost's eyes hit Jon, and he surrendered to the ability of controlling Ghost's body with merely a twitch, but even he knew he wouldn't be there long.

'Ghost' pawed a sloppy check mark into the dirt, and Robb nodded before calling his banners to move into position. With that, Jon lost whatever tenuous connection he had with Ghost, and came back into his own body, with a sense of unease filling him.

Mayhaps that is a side effect of long-distance warging, but no matter.

The force of eight, counting the singular direwolf, waited in silence as whatever Lannister arms there flooded out of the keep, ready to repel the outside invasion. Perhaps an hour passed, maybe two, as Jon and the others simply waited, and his worries built. What if they caught them? What if the Lannisters had simply created a trap all along to catch them out?

But eventually, the footsteps stopped, as they went to repel the invasion force out front, and the team of seven nodded.

"Get in the boat, we'll ride that through the gate, one trip at a time." The Blackfish commanded. "Jon, you take the first group - wait for us when you arrive."
No fool, Jon nodded, motioning for himself, Dacey Mormont, Wendel Manderly, and Grey Wind, with him to clamber onto the boat. It was a tight fit, but their combined weights were barely enough to keep the boat afloat without any worries of capsizing.

The wide arch soared over the party's head as they passed the rusty, red portcullis that made up the Water Gate. Jon found himself fidgeting ever so slightly as the anxiety of the entire rescue situation hit him.

He had to do this, for Robb, for Aunt Cat, for Sansa, for all of his siblings and the people of Riverrun, but if he failed? The chances of managing to make it to the hostages, dispatching all threats, and successfully rescuing Edmure and Hoster Tully were so low, but...he had to try anyways.

Eventually, they passed through the gate, and Jon shakily stepped off the boat onto the stairs that Brynden Tully had informed him would bring them straight through the castle. Based on previous intelligence, they knew Hoster and Edmure were being held in the solar as captives, so they would be headed there as fast as possible. The other boat arrived, and the other force, composed of the Blackfish, Cley Cerwyn, Rodrik Forrester, and Torrhen Karstark, stepped off the boat with determined faces.

"Stick close to me, Grey Wind," Jon whispered to the direwolf, before nodding once more to the Blackfish, who took it as his signal to begin the trek. The Blackfish effortlessly guided them up the stairs, and they arrived at the lower bailey, carefully assessing if there was any opposition.

"I see two," Torrhen noted to Jon, and both men nodded silently.

Jon lunged almost supernaturally fast with his blade before beheading his opponent with a single slash, his lean frame and speed benefitting him, and Torrhen's axe nearly sliced his enemy in half as it came vertically crashing down the other guard's head.

"Watch your sides, boys!" Dacey cheered as her morningstar brutally destroyed the third man, a guard who had spotted their force and aimed a sneak attack at Jon.

"Good work, you three," the Blackfish said. "Now, remember our plan."

"The sound and the noise, right?" Cley Cerwyn asked excitedly.

"Slow down, lad," Wendel Manderly cautioned. "We'll be facing an unknown number of opponents. Ser Brynden, what will you have us do?"

"Jon and I will be accompanied by Lady Mormont to the solar, while Ser Wendel will accompany you lads to make a racket around the keep. The household will not fight you, but I would suggest you find a tightly guarded area and make for a distraction, so that they will not enter the solar," Brynden stated seriously. "Be careful - I'll not hear tales of your stupidity and subsequent deaths if you do not listen to Ser Wendel."

The three men nodded seriously, before following Ser Wendel to the keep, to find the Lord's tower and make a racket, and possibly draw more guards

"That leaves us, then," Dacey said quietly, and Jon nodded, before both teens followed the Blackfish around the keep.

Walking through a Riverrun at siege was a nerveracking experience, as the servants running towards shelter all nodded to acknowledge Brynden but did not dare say a word to disrupt his plans. The halls were rather empty, being in the midst of a siege, and so the two teens, direwolf, and commander arrived at the corner to the doors that would lead them to the keep.

Seven men guarded the doors silently. With the dim light of the morning, it was clear none of the guards saw them. The Blackfish looked grimly at the two teens, and a moment of silent communication passed between all three members before they nodded.

"Attack," Jon commanded Grey Wind, quietly, and Grey Wind's brutal bite to the head of the guard closest to the corner signaled the launch of the attack, as Jon used his sword and speed to effortlessly cover Grey Wind from getting impaled by another guard's spear.

The Blackfish's strike skewered an unwary guard, before he had to quickly remove his sword and dodge and parry three attacks at once, and Dacey grinned as she used that distraction to flail her morningstar into someone's armor in a concussive blow that broke another's lung.

Three down, four left.

Jon used his superior speed to parry a blow and retaliated with a glancing blow that nicked an artery, before bringing his sword back to intercept a blow. His opponent narrowed his eyes, knowing that he would bleed out in time if something was not done, but locked in the midst of sustained combat, there was no way to cover the injury without the possibility of dying even more imminently. All Jon had to do was to distract his opponent long enough for Grey Wind to rip his opponent's arms off of his shoulders, and it wasn't long before Jon's current opponent was incapacitated.

Yet, by the time Jon had finished his personal battle, Dacey Mormont and the Blackfish had succeeded in dispatching the rest of the guards.

"Into the solar!" Brynden shouted, but before they could follow, a threat was spotted.

"There are about five men headed our way! I'll distract them!" Dacey yelled. "I see the other force - we'll do the same thing we did at the Twins!"

"No, lass, there's no way you'll beat them alone!" The Blackfish yelled. "You're the most important piece with that direwolf of yours, Stark, go rescue my bloody nephew and brother!"

Jon nodded grimly, opening the doors to the solar and rushing up the staircase. Up, and up and up, and eventually, the doors to the solar stood in front of him.

The sight that met Jon when he opened the door was shocking - he saw Edmure locked deeply in battle with four opponents, a pilfered sword in his hand. But even more so, was the sight of a dagger deep in the heart of old Hoster Tully, with red blood staining the sheets. A blond woman that Jon surmised to be Cerenna Lannister was white faced as she watched the battle, her eyes flickering between the window and between her betrothed.

"Father...Edmure," she whispered, forlornly. "Who am I supposed to choose?"

No fool he was, Jon aimed for a thrust that quickly skewered an unwary opponent's eye, and removed his sword to parry the three attacks aimed towards Edmure. He was fast, but not fast enough, for a blow cut lightly into his side and caused Edmure to wince.

"STARK!" Edmure bellowed, dodging another blow. "They killed my father when they saw the army! Help me defeat these guards, so that my wife and I can retake the castle!"

His wife? He must have married her in a small ceremony during the time of the war, Jon surmised, before dismissing the thought as irrelevant and assisting Edmure Tully.

The two men worked together as a team, dodging attacks and aiming blows, acting as a distraction for Grey Wind to incapacitate the Lannister guards. Blood poured in the confined space, with some splashes even hitting Cerenna Lannister's dress and face, with how vicious the battle was, and eventually, between Grey Wind's dismemberment tactics, and Jon and Edmure's teamwork, they killed the three guards.

A piercing scream filled the room, as the battle finished.

"Ed! They're going to kill us! ED!" Lady Cerenna cried, evidently giving into her panic. But Edmure Tully was there and Edmure took his apparent wife into his arms.

A significant look passed between Jon and Edmure, and after a moment, Edmure's shoulders seemed to sag in relief, and he turned to his wife.

"Hush, love, hush," Edmure gently whispered as he held his wife. "Do you remember what we promised?"

"We- that-" Cerenna stuttered, as tears filled her eyes. "That we would live happily together, regardless of everything else?"

Edmure smiled gently and lovingly at his wife. "Yes, Cere, that we would be together, and be happy.."

She sniffled hesitantly, leaning into her husband. "But father said-"

"Robb is my nephew, Cere. He wouldn't dare kill me or you." he reassured his wife.

Cerenna Lannister turned her eyes to Jon.

"Please believe me, Lord Stark, I didn't want any of this! But Father made me do it, he said I had to, or Uncle Tywin would kill us!" Cerenna sobbed.

"Lady Cerenna, I promise you that we will not harm you nor your husband," Jon said kindly, although, given the giant direwolf staring at her, and Jon's bloodied body, it was clear she didn't believe them.

"EDMURE! HOSTER!" Brynden Tully shouted as he ran up the stairs, but when he arrived to the sobering sight of his brother dead and his nephew comforting his nephew's absolutely distraught wife, the fight went out of his body, and was replaced with a look that made the Blackfish seem years older.

"...good work, lad," The Blackfish said to Jon quietly. "Edmure, will you let Robb rescue you?"

"Of course, Uncle Brynden," Edmure smiled at his uncle, shushing his wife and looking at her with absolute adoration.

"Then we give the signal, and wait for Robb's signal in return," Brynden stated calmly. "But for now, we clear the rest of the keep, and restore you two to power. Oh, Hoster…"

Jon nodded, and a direwolf barked amidst the battle outside.


Robb

This enemy commander is clearly a fool, for no sensible commander would allow his forces to be cut down like this.

The battle had been going well. With confirmation that Jon's force had made it inside to save Robb's grandfather and uncle, Robb commenced the battle by using his forces to slowly bleed out Stafford Lannister's forces.

Forewarned by both his great-uncle and his wife, Robb had the liberty of using more liberal commands to bleed his enemy with the massive numbers advantage from the North. With the massive, man-made ditch of the West side giving Robb a height advantage, he could begin the battle by using his archers to aim their arrows overhead to snipe whatever poor fool that had rushed into the ditch, aiming for the few, brave Northmen acting as bait. So long as he had his archers bleed out the forces slowly, he could proceed passively enough to turn the lure into a counterattack of its own.

And with Jon's signal, I can proceed with the attack, and turn this battle into a victory.

He had not seen true battle yet, but soon, he would be in the thick of things, that was for certain.

Ghost suddenly barked, and the dark black armor with red and blue highlights that belonged to his uncle caught his eye, as did the old man who had volunteered to take on the armor.

"Ser," Robb said quietly. "You know what to do. I am sorry to ask this of you, but-"

The old man laughed, "Just promise me you'll take care of 'me Simon and Jeyne, and I'll be cheering 'ya from the heavens, Lord Stark. The North Remembers even so, and ol' John is happy to do his duty for his lord. Don't forget us smallfork, milord, when you win the war."

Robb nodded seriously, clasping his arms with the man who would sacrifice his life to ensure Robb's victory. "I promise, Ser."

"Good," the old man said, "now you go rescue young Brandon, milord, and kick those lions for me." He raised his voice. "MEN! CHARGE!"

Trumpets blared, and Robb took that as his signal, making his horse canter over around the side of the ditch to the treeline with a large portion of the army. The doomed squad of men, led by the man in Brynden's armor, rode across the ditch in the near center.

Let us see if you take the bait, my lord.

And the bait, it had, for as Robb's own group charged down the treeline to flank the enemy army, the greedy Lannister force saw the possibility of glory and victory in killing the Blackfish. Only a small force of Stafford Lannister's army remained with him, blocking the western entrance, and as Robb approached him, the man's victorious smirk at the thought of besting a green boy showed on his face as he played into Robb's hand's perfectly.

"CHARGE!" Robb yelled, as the bulk of his forces slammed into the enemy force from the side, keeping their opponents trapped in the ditch as they crossed the other shore, and effectively cutting off Stafford's forces from reuniting with their commander.

And Robb found himself lost in the chaos in the melee, using Ice to kill any soldiers wearing red and gold that happened to be in his range, thinning out the forces on his horse. Ghost, for what it was worth, followed Robb closely, easily disembering opponents with his sharp teeth as he gave Robb the helpful assist he needed for certain finishing blows.

There was too much chaos to spot what had happened, to see where the battle commander was, as Robb could only see the victorious smiles of his lords and ladies - Jon Umber, Medger Cerwyn, Maege Mormont, Wylis Manderly, and so on - as his levies smashed through the smaller force of Northern opponents. Eventually, the forces thinned, and whatever forces that were trapped in the center of the ditch were sitting ducks, and Robb had more than enough breathing room.

Robb sighed heavily, before giving a specific whistle.

"PROTECT YOUR LORD!" Jon Umber bellowed, aiming for a defensive position that Stafford Lannister desperately tried to break, and Robb knew nothing more than his connection to Grey Wind, deep in the battlements of Riverrun.

'Grey Wind' hastily barked next to Jon and Edmure, who looked grimly at the signal.

"Close the sluice gate." Jon commanded, "And Robb? Stay safe."

The connection grew too hard to maintain, and Robb was forced back into his body, with a smirk on his face.

"MEN OF THE NORTH! PULL FORWARD!" Robb cried. But rather than pulling forward into the ditch, the Northmen Robb had commanded pulled backwards out of the ditch, and barely in time too, as water rushed from the sluice gate to form the island Riverrun was known to turn into.

He could see the panic in the opposing army's eyes as they realized their armor would make them sink in the water. The smile on the old volunteer's face as water rushed towards him. But nothing could stop the water from pouring into the ditch, and the river ran through Riverrun, drowning the hapless men trapped inside the ditch as surely as an angry sea god would.

Yet, none of that mattered now, as Stafford Lannister appeared in front of Robb, pale faced at the realization he had been played, but incredibly angry, even so.

"STARK!" Stafford Lannister cried. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

And Robb, perhaps foolishly, dismounted from his horse, with Ice in hand, and the remainder of the two armies fell to a hush as Robb faced Stafford Lannister in single combat.

His opponent sliced his sword in an overhead strike, and Robb dodged it. Another strike, aimed at an unexpected angle, and Robb dodged it once again.

Sloppy technique, Ser, aiming your strikes like that, You must like surprise attacks.

Robb grinned, using his considerable skill and knowledge to force Stafford Lannister on the defensive, and Stafford frantically dodged his attacks, aware that Valyrian steel would instantly cut through the armor that Stafford was using. Eventually though, all men tired out, and Robb managed to successfully dodge a stabbing slash and retaliate with one of his own, piercing the enemy commander's armor and striking deep into Stafford's gut.

"You're finished," Robb said coldly.
A high laugh filled the battlefield, turning into a hacking cough.

"You may have won this battle, Stark, but your pretty little wife is still in the camps. My son will take care of them all soon enough." Stafford muttered.

Robb paled. With the river cutting off his only escape route, and his army firmly on the other side, that meant-

A bloody smile filled Stafford's face, and his eyes glazed over as life left his body. Robb had won the battle in a manner that would truly have songs written about it, but even so...

"Open the gates and find the boats!" Robb cried, panicked. "We need to go back to the camps as soon as possible!"

Theon, Margaery, please be safe, Robb prayed, for that was the only thing he could do now.


Margaery

The sounds of battle filled my ear as I sat in my tent, awaiting my husband's return. The Twins had been nerve wracking, if only because I had been terrified a stray arrow would fly through the air and pierce my vulnerable body as the Freys betrayed us, but ultimately, Robb and the North's solid campaign managed to make that battle mincemeat.

A scream pierced the air, and I winced, gripping at my hidden knives tightly. This one, though….

"Worried?" Aly, otherwise known as Alysane Mormont asked me, noticing my guarded expression, and I nodded.

"It's not the fact that I don't think Robb would win, but...it's the waiting, you know?" I replied quietly. "I'm certainly sorry you have to go through that too, instead of fighting in the thick of the battle with your sisters."

Aly laughed. "Or maybe I got the easy job out of all of us. Besides, we've got plenty of lions to skin in the battles ahead, so I'm not too worried, Tyrell."

"With the She-Bear by my side, I suppose I've nothing to be worried about," I affirmed, to Aly's grin. "But-"

"ATTACK! ATTA-" we heard, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.

Aly's face hardened. "The damn lions are in the camp. Margaery, stay here, it'll be easier to guard you that way. Greyjoy will do his job with the Northern forces concentrated at the camp and kill the invader stupid enough to attack our camp."

I nodded tersely as my white knuckled hands held upon my knife. "Aly, I think they'll go through the tents looking for the hostages, they'll be desperate to find Genna Lannister and Emmon Frey."

"Which means they'll come here," Aly said as she positioned herself defensively in front of the tent, connecting the dots. The sound of battle came closer, as the forces tore through camp.

I won't become another Elia Martell, I won't. I'll kill myself first if it comes down to it.

"YOUR FIGHT IS WITH ME, LANNISTER!" I heard the Smalljon bellow before the sound of clashing metal filled my ears. That meant he was close. Too close, in fact.

"Where is my aunt, Umber? WHERE IS SHE?" the voice of a man- no, it had to be a Lannister, floated in the chaotic air around me, but I could not overhear that conversation, for we had more pressing concerns in front of us, with three men, aiming towards our tent.

"None of you shall pass," Aly's cold voice filled the air, as she brandished her sword, and the battle was upon us.

I should stay here. I'm the most valuable hostage here. But if I don't come out and Aly is slain by those three men, then what?

I warred with myself, trying to figure out what the best thing to do was, trying to see if there was anything, anything I could do, other than being a useless lady playing at war.

"What do we have here?" I heard a man's voice. "Not a hostage, but a lady, ready to pluck! Smart of 'im to tell me to sneak in. Robb Stark's wife, herself! Most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, the highborn say!"

Terror crept up my spine, as my clothing, with Stark greys and Tyrell golds, gave me away.

"Aly!" I cried, but it was no use, for it was clear she was engaged in her own battle.

"Oughta give 'meself a bit of a reward, then," the man leered, staring at my chest with a look that gave his disgusting intentions away too easily. My knives were in my hand. I had only one chance to do this, and only one try to do this right.

Old Gods, preserve me.

"I-" I started, before adding a panicked effect to my voice. "Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! I'll-" I paused, giving him a desperate look. "I'll do anything!"

"What a cowardly cunt," he said, grinning. "Come here, sweet thing, and I'll spare your life if you please me enough."

I did my best to conceal my disgusted shudder, walking towards him, with my knives firmly in my hand. Hidden within the sleeves of my ostentatiously long dress, I doubted he saw them at all.

Oh gods, please forgive me for what I'm about to do, I can't-

I reached him. I could smell the body odor, the rotten breath of his, and see his eyes, roaming over me, with him being a good bit taller than me. He was little more than a foot soldier, without the armor that would protect him like a highborn would, and was more likely than not a fool enemy soldier who had spotted what he thought was paydirt.

His grip on his sword slackened as I positioned myself in a way to accentuate my assets, and stared at him with a seductive look that was only for Robb.

Oh my love, please forgive me, I'm so sorry, I hope you're safe-

Thoughts whirled in my head, but it disappeared in a striking, clinical sort of clarity when my hands began to move.

One chance or I'm dead.

His dazed look abruptly disappeared when I stabbed my knife directly into what I knew was his solar plexus. He choked, as the stab injured him, and took the wind right out of his lungs, and I whirled my other arm, and used the other hidden knife to slice his throat for a blow I knew would instantly kill him.

Blood gushed out of his neck as he fell back in a seated position, his eyes gone vacant, with some of the blood landing on my face and body. The detached clarity disappeared as I stared dumbly at my hands, covered in blood, and my face, which I also knew was covered in blood.

All of that planning. All of that strategizing. I was a player-a player of the Game, I thought, with horror. I told myself that I was untouchable. That with my father's armies, and later, my husband's armies, I would be able to plan around them and create the perfect victory. But here and now, where was any of that? Where were my promised armies, where were my brothers, where was my husband, when I was struggling to survive?

The sobering realization hit me almost as hard as my own actions had.

And then, without my armies and my protection, I was nearly-

I was nearly-

I couldn't finish the thought, as the smell of the blood, all of it, everything overwhelmed me and I vomited noisily on the dead body in front of me. The knife clattered from my left hand onto the ground as my hands shook. I simply stared at them, red with the blood of another man's life I sacrificed to keep mine intact.

The game, the game, the game! I had won the game! I repeated madly as I simply stared. An enemy has been slain! My brain put together, as I distantly remembered another game I had played so long ago. But the battle still continued to rage outside, and I knew that I could not afford to sit in panic when Aly and Theon and so many other loyal men were fighting outside so that I could live.

I shakily grabbed at my knife, still red with the blood of the man I had killed, and stared at the other knife, covered in vomit and blood and guts, and gave that one up as a lost cause, before slowly peeking outside to see the sights of a full on camp battle.

Out in the distance, I could see Eddard Karstark and the Smalljon Umber fighting against the Lannister commander, their great swings with their sword and axe, respectively, forcing the commander back. But the commander was sneaky, using superior speed to even out the battle. Theon was at the top of another tent, his bow aiming at hapless opponents that could not see him from the thick of battle, and I doubted he would see me either.

More importantly though, in front of me, I could see Aly fighting two men, a greatsword in hand, with a gash on her cheek. One of the three men was dead, and the other two were so focused on Aly that they didn't see me at all.

Aly used her muscular body to simply overpower one of the men's parries, and aimed a blow towards his gut, but the other man directed his sword to intercept hers. Both were lightly armored, with chainmail covering their bodies, but I could see slight incisions where Aly had attempted to pierce through the chainmail with her strength alone. She was slowly starting to fatigue, I could tell, based on my long bits of experience watching others at the tiltyard, and if I didn't do something fast, the men would overpower and kill her, something I couldn't let happen.

I would, once again, only have one shot at this. I prayed my training at throwing knives would work effectively in a combat situation.

"You have to predict where they're going to be, what they're going to do. All fighters have patterns they will fall back on - your job is to find them," I remembered Ser Vortimer, explaining to Loras, during one lesson I had managed to witness, so I watched the fight carefully.

Both fighters had superb teamwork, and they covered for one another, but individually, they were slow, and prone to near misses from Aly's greatsword. It was clear that they were focused on the fight and on covering for one another, so what I had to do was disrupt that. I saw one flash his sword in an overarm hit, watched Aly's graceful dodge and rebuttal with a stabbing strike, and saw the other man move in, to parry…

CLANG! The sound of the metal clashing hit my ears, and I knew I had found my pattern. Aly panted, clearly beginning to tire, and she pulled her sword to parry a blow, only for another strike to lightly graze her side. She winced, but she proceeded with another stabbing slash-

I saw the fight in my mind's eye, the pattern, predicted where the man would go, and prayed to the Old Gods that I would hit the man's eye as I put every ounce of strength and precision honed in my training into a single throw to where I hoped the other fighter would be. In some form of invisible concert, I looked briefly to see Theon's arrow flying towards the Lannister commander, hazy in the far distance.

Please don't hit Aly, please don't hit Aly...

The other man moved to intercept the blow, only for a knife to embed itself with maximum force into the man's wide forehead, and fell backwards, dying instantly at my singular throw. Shocked, the other man simply stared as Aly took that opportunity to aim for his neck and skewered her hapless opponent with her greatsword.

A roar of victory filled my head as I heard what I imagined to be cheering, and I simply stared, dazed. But then, I realized that the cheering had not solely been in my head, but in the camps, as the Northmen roared out their victory out loud, with an arrow firmly embedded in the Lannister commander's eye. Evidently, the battle was over, and the Lannisters had been soundly defeated.

"Margaery! You're covered in blood!" Aly shouted.

"'S not mine, Aly, 'm not hurt. There...was a man. Inside the tent," I slurred distantly as the world blurred around me. "Killed him, and then came outside to help you."

"She's swaying! Medic!" Aly cried.

I'll see Robb pretty soon. The battle's probably over, and I'll have stories to tell, I thought amusedly, as the faint sound of men rushing to me filled my ears. Darkness filled my vision, and I surrendered to its comfortable embrace.