Lord Tarly makes a choice.
Unrelated note: I've checked the previous chapters, and I was surprised to notice that Sansa has more chapters than both Dany and Tyrion combined. Jon too, but half of the story is about him so it wasn't as surprising.
Anyway, I'm going to hold off on Winterfell chapters for a while. At least until they become absolutely necessary. I know there are some balls in the air over there, but it's nothing that can't wait.
23. Betrayal - Randyll
Harrenhal was a massive castle. It had five towers of monstrous scale, and its walls were thick enough to withstand any force known to man. Except dragons, as Aegon the Conqueror had proven centuries ago. It was also too big to maintain. No lord in Westeros could afford to stay in this accursed place for too long.
That's fine, Randyll thought. His own stay should be temporary. The Lannister army had been spotted marching up along the Gods Eye river, and they should arrive imminently. He had assembled his forces in accordance to the instructions given to him by the letter he carried in his pocket. Mostly.
He wouldn't trust his family's future to this gamble. He had given command of two thousand knights to his son, with express orders to flee at the first sign of trouble. They would be positioned at an incline to the Northwest, near High Heart, a good distance away from the rest of the army. Dickon was to make for Riverrun and regroup there, before deciding the best course of action.
Randyll had already accepted the offer to become Warden of the South. His ride from Casterly Rock to Harrenhal had been enough to convince him. Savages, bastards and eunuchs, those were the forces he had agreed to help take over his homeland. The dragon girl would never be accepted by the lords of Westeros. And now that she had lost one of her dragons, even her military might wasn't assured.
"Why we inside?" The tall horselord asked him in broken words. These savages can't even speak our language properly. Randyll couldn't wait to be rid of them.
The dornish bastard weighed in. "Good question. Why keep our cavalry inside the castle? They should be out in the open field, to prepare for a charge." Obara Sand. Her very name sounded like something a lord forgot and dropped on the floor. Flowers, Hill, Pyke, Rivers, Sand, Snow, Stone, Waters. Whoever named the bastards of each kingdom had done a good job. Every bastard is a reminder of their father's shame.
He sighed and put a hand on his bald head. "A wise commander doesn't show his full strength until he's certain of victory." He wasn't comfortable lying, even to these people. A half-truth then. "Our combined forces should be just enough to fool the Lannisters into overconfidence. When the Kingslayer takes the bait, we'll open the gates and overwhelm his army."
The bastard girl nodded, then the tall savage did too. Randyll scowled as they walked away. He hated having to explain himself. He was their lord commander. It was their duty to follow his orders, without question. All the more reason find someone who appreciates my talents.
A young man came running towards him. "My lord!" He said, breathing heavily. "They're here."
"Lord Tarly." Ser Jaime Lannister greeted him. He was wearing golden plated armor, astride a white horse. To his side was a black-haired man with a poorly trimmed beard, wearing little in the way of armor. Odd company.
They were meeting in the middle of the battlefield under a white banner, with the Gods Eye lake to the east, and the great gate of Harrenhal within sight. He had left two trustworthy Tarly men with specific instructions to keep it locked, unless he himself was at the gates.
"Ser Jaime." He replied, glancing at the Lannister forces. His scout had suggested they had no more than fifteen thousand soldiers. A good estimate, though he knew better than to trust his eyes.
The Kingslayer turned his face to look at the forces arrayed in front of the great castle. "Your army seems much smaller than I expected, my lord." He drawled, with a smirk on his face.
Randyll caught a smile on the face of that bastard girl, before turning to face him. If she had any doubts, they were just erased. "Then it should be a quick battle." He replied.
The Lannister frowned. "Are you sure you won't reconsider? There's still time to join the winning side."
He hesitated, thinking of how best to communicate his intent without giving anything away to his companions. "I'll only serve Cersei Lannister when dragonfire rains on Harrenhal again." He said, fixing the man with a pointed glare.
Ser Jaime nodded, smiling slightly. "I understand." As he turned his horse away, he said, "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." Then he led his men back to their side, joining the rest of the Lannister army.
"An odd thing to say before a battle." The bastard girl said, frowning. Randyll had heard it often enough. Never from enemies.
"It's meaningless." He turned his own horse back, now assured that Ser Jaime knew his intentions. "Come, and let us prepare our forces for the first assault." He ordered, all the while thinking of ways to stall long enough for Euron Greyjoy to make his appearance.
"They don't seem to be moving at all." One of his officers made the observation. Ser Hyle Hunt. The man had a plain face and a crooked nose, but he was loyal. That's what matters now. It had been roughly an hour since their talks. His men were getting restless. And restless men make foolish mistakes. "Should we attack, my lord?" The man asked, eagerly.
"No!" Randyll quickly replied, speaking loudly enough so everyone around could hear. "We follow the plan. If we stray too far from the castle, our strategy won't work."
Most of the soldiers seemed content to wait. Except the Dornish. "This is boring." The bastard girl defied him. "I say we charge. Who's with me?" She shouted, raising her spear. Many others agreed with her, for other spears were raised as well.
Before Randyll could object, the better part of the Dornish army charged at the Lannisters. "Fools." He sighed, looking around to take stock of how many had stayed behind.
"My lord, shouldn't we help them?" Ser Hyle asked.
"If they're so eager to die, it's not my-" Suddenly, he heard a loud screeching noise. "Did you hear that?"
Looking up at the sky, the shape of a green dragon grew closer and closer. He turned to his men and shouted. "Now! Forward march!" And he spurred his own horse as far as he could from Harrenhal.
He heard the sound of billowing flames, and didn't bother looking back. Men and horse alike were being burned alive inside that cursed place. Good riddance, he thought, trying to ignore the stench of burning flesh rising in the air.
Randyll focused on the battle ahead. The Dornish charge had been stuck on their shield wall, while the Lannister horse attacked from the west. It was a clever tactic, forcing them to back into the lake. To her credit, the bastard girl was managing to hold their position. But that won't last long.
"Hold!" He commanded, and the men stopped. The deed is done. The horselords were probably all dead by now. He just had to wait until the chaos subsided and he could talk to Ser Jaime.
"My lord?" Ser Hyle looked confused. "If we don't help them, they'll…" Randyll fixed him with a glare. "Yes, my lord." He said, keeping his head down.
As he watched, several Dornish soldiers were breaking position already. Some falling into the lake, others into a Lannister sword. This solves two problems at once, he considered, since he doubted the bastard girl would have agreed with his new alliance.
Feeling rather pleased with himself, Randyll turned his eyes back to Harrenhal to get a better look at the dragon. A thick black smoke was rising from the castle, clouding the blue sky in darkness. Where did it go? He wondered, as he searched the battlefield.
His question was answered by a jet of flame descending down into the group of people fighting by the lake. Seven save us! That Greyjoy maniac was burning everyone, be they Dornish or Lannister.
The cries of screaming soldiers echoed all around him, while the smell made his horse panic. He patted the mare's neck, making soothing sounds until the brown destrier calmed down. He had to do something about this, before it was too late.
"Archers!" He shouted at his men. "Take down that beast!" He commanded, pointing at the flying dragon. They hurried to follow his order, shooting arrow after arrow. But they all bounced away.
"My lord, the scales are too strong! We can't pierce them!"
Feeling more and more desperate, he shouted, "Then aim for the rider!" Euron Greyjoy was truly mad. While Randyll had been worried about picking a side in the war, the Crow's Eye clearly had higher aspirations. Maybe he'll try to kill both queens and take the crown for himself. On the back of a dragon, he didn't have to kneel to anyone.
When the archers tried to aim, another stream of fire rained down on them. The acrid smell filled his nostrils, and the black smoke rising made it near impossible to see what was happening around him. All he could feel was the unbearable heat surrounding him.
His horse buckled, bringing him down face first into the ground. Pushing himself up, he caught a glimpse of something green. Before he could give voice to his thoughts, he heard a WOOOOOSH.
Nooooo! As the flames enveloped him, Randyll felt his own flesh cooking in his armor, a pain so intense it seemed to come from his own insides, melting away into the steel. His last thought was of his son, hoping against hope that his House wouldn't be destroyed for his mistake.
Exit Randyll Tarly. It's that Harrenhal curse again. I wonder who will be the next lord?
I decided to keep Dickon alive. Be certain he'll show up later. Jaime is also alive, by the way.
On a related note, I think I'll need to show King's Landing eventually, but whose POV can I use there? Qyburn would be interesting, though it could be Jaime or Cersei herself. I'll have to think about it.
The date is 02/06/2019