Flement

The Trident flowed behind him, as the red comet blazed in the sky above. It lit up the evening sky, painting it red like some of the sunsets he had seen on the coast of Casterly Rock.

When Flement looked out he could see more men were still crossing aboard their rafts.

They had met little resistance at the Ruby Ford, which had struck him as queer. No doubt their foes would've wished to better strengthen a position when they would've been at their most vulnerable, as his father had been outside of Riverrun, yet there were hardly any men there to defend it. Taking it had cost them fewer than a hundred men from what he had heard, while the men defending it had only numbered two score.

The Northern host would be behind them, Flement knew, though they had made great haste southwards.

Darry was in the hands of a boy, with his father away at Riverrun, Harrenhal a crone, and Maidenpool a Craven. Lord Tywin wished to strike at the weakest foe he had. To the east lay the Vale and bitter Lady Lysa, to the north was the bastard's host, and to the west was the Young Wolf himself. And all around them, outlaws had been plaguing their foraging parties.

In truth, it seemed defeat along the Green Fork was the least of Lord Tywin's concerns. Across the river though, their men still remained prepared for an attack from the wolves, even though from the reports they had heard they were no less than two days ride North from them.

Flement stepped into the room Lord Tywin had chosen to call his council in. It was smaller than it ought to be, both the chamber and the council. Lord Serrett and Lord Lydden had been killed in battle, while Ser Harys Swyft and Ser Addam Marbrand were captives.

On the council sat Lord Tywin, seated next to his brother, Ser Kevan, as well as Ser Gregor Clegane, Ser Melwyn Sarsfield, the Strongboar, and young Ser Gerold Lydden.

In Lord Tywin's hand was a message. The last word they had received from elsewhere had been of Ser Jaime's defeat, Lord Eddard's death, and Lord Renly's crowning, Flement recalled, so this was not like to be good.

The Golden Lion of the Rock was rubbing his temples.

"Is it word about Lord Stannis?" Ser Melwyn asked.

Lord Tywin set the paper down frustrated. "It should seem my grandson's folly has awoken a new foe that we must needs contend with. Lord Eddard once spared Prince Rhaegar's sons, and now it should seem his son has seen it fit to try and restore them the throne of their grandfather."

Flement was shocked by the news. "For true? Surely he would have declared for Lord Renly or Stannis or even tried to claim the throne for himself."

"Sunspear will declare for him as well," Ser Gerold Lydden suggested.

"Perhaps this is not such a bad thing." Ser Melwyn put in. "Lord Renly is now their foe just as much as he is ours. If the Dornish wish to enter the war, they would fight Lord Renly. Let them, I say, we should strengthen our own position at King's Landing to assure Lord Stannis's loyalty, and let the Starks and Martells attempt to come down upon Lord Renly as Princes Baelor and Maekar did against Bittersteel at the Red Grass Field. And the Lords of the Reach bear little love for the Tyrells."

"A fine plan Ser, but our new dragon king will surely wish to let his friend avenge his father. And should we retreat to King's Landing, we would be surrounded, trapped in a city that will no doubt be under siege," Ser Kevan Lannister replied.

Lord Tywin shook his head at that. "Lady Shella Whent gathers her swords and I do not doubt they will be marching against us soon, while Stark's bastard still lies to the North. Ser Forley Prester is gathering the remnants of my son's host, while Ser Stafford raises his host. Ser Gerold will be given command of six hundred men to hold this Ford, and secure our rear while we march towards Harrenhal. We must strike first, and strike hard."

"And of the capital?" Ser Melwyn asked.

"Kevan shall ride south for the capital, to assume the position Hand of the King in my stead. If we rode to the city with all our strength, that would be all we could hope to keep, but we must send some at least." the old lion told them, before his eyes drifted towards the east on the map and the Vale of Arryn. "I had thought it folly but… My own granddaughter is wed to Lord Edric of the Vale, and Lady Arryn's ward. She is a Tully herself by birth, and the younger son is with Stannis on Dragonstone, yet even so… We must needs roll the dice. Ser Melwyn, you will take a hundred picked men, all mounted, and strike for the High Road. Should you be unable to negotiate Lady Lysa's support, then at the very least secure the return of my granddaughter, and see her safely back to King's Landing."

"Certainly my lord…" Ser Melwyn answered.

"We must needs try to ransom Ser Addam from the bastard, but until such a time, Ser Flement, you will have command of the outriders," Lord Tywin said to him, which was a surprise to Flement. But before he had time to even react, he continued on. "Ser Gregor will set to foraging once we make it to Harrenhal, and light the Riverlands ablaze as we go."

Flement seemed to understand what the plan was. By holding Harrenhal, it would prevent the Young Wolf from joining with the bastard to the North, and marching on King's Landing together, and force them to meet them at Harrenhal if they tried to.

"Is that all?" Ser Kevan asked. "I should begin riding for the capital today then, if that is all."

Lord Tywin nodded his head. "Yes, you should be off Kevan, and Ser Melwyn too. The rest of you will remain."

When the two knights were gone, that left just five of them. He saw another letter, this one with a broken grey wax seal on it.

"What more news is there?" Ser Gerold asked.

Lord Tywin held up the letter once more, and read it through. "It should seem I have a new great-grandson… Eddard is what Myrcella named the boy."

Flement wasn't sure what to make of that. This great-grandson was the Young Wolf's son as well after all.

"Lord Eddard was a traitor," said Ser Gerold. "Would she have truly named her son for a traitor?"

"To the North he wasn't," Lord Tywin replied. "Myrcella will do what she must in the North… As will we."

"Perhaps we might be able to make peace," Flement suggested, as fruitless as it was. His father was dead at the hands of the Young Wolf's men, but Tytos was wed to one of Lord Hoster's daughters.

"That ship has sailed," Lord Tywin replied. "The day my grandson saw it fit to shorten Lord Eddard by a head was the day our peace could have ended. Now that Prince Rhaegar's son has been crowned king, they will not be making peace."

Flement nodded. It was a hopeless notion, but the best they might have been able to do. "Is there news from the Bastard of Winterfell's host?"

The bastard had been pursuing them since the Battle, but they hadn't heard any news of a pursuit in recent days. Now would be the time to strike though, while they were busy fording across the Trident, and while there were still men to the south to join with them.

"Lord Dustin is in command now from what I've heard, while the bastard rides North for the Twins," Lord Tywin said.

"Truly?" Flement asked, surprised. Why would the bastard leave his host now to go back to the Twins? It seemed like folly to him.

"Aye."

"Perhaps he means to raise more men there?" Ser Gerold suggested.

"That is my thinking as well…" Said Lord Tywin. "All well and good if it means that we are able to make it to Harrenhal without them nipping at our heels."

"Is there news from Lord Stannis yet though?" Flement wondered.

The Old Lion of the Rock shook his head. "Nothing yet, even as Renly crowned himself king. It's said he gathers his swords and ships about him, and blocks off all trade with the capital, but has yet to declare himself king. He is the one I fear is the most dangerous of our foes. His islands and fleet are a knife at the throat of King's Landing, and he has Lady Lysa's younger boy as a ward too."

"If he means to make himself a king he will not be laggardly then, will he?" Asked the Strongboar. "Lord Renly raises more lords sworn to Highgarden and Storm's End with each passing day, lords that he might win."

Lord Renly is the younger brother, but Stannis has no more of a claim to the throne than he does surely. Flement would have thought Stannis would be able to win more lords in the Reach and Stormlands, but life was full of surprises.

"If Lady Lysa meant to support Stannis, why would she have wed the Princess to her son?" Lydden asked. "Or if Stannis doesn't mean to crown himself…"

"The gods alone know what game Lysa is playing at," Flement declared. If Stannis meant to be king that would surely come at Princess Marla's expense. "Mayhaps Lord Stannis means to hold true to his grace, King Joffrey."

Lord Tywin's face made it seem he didn't agree. "Kevan and I have already discussed the matter, though he did not think it likely. I've sent terms all the same, offering him his seat on the Council, a betrothal of his daughter to Joffrey, positions in court for his sons, confirmation as Lord of Dragonstone and Storm's End should he choose to remain true to my grandson."

Those seemed like generous terms to Flement. Two of the greatest castles in Westeros, a seat on the King's Council, and a daughter as Queen. "He would be a fool not to take them," he said.

"We shall see what Stannis does. All we know is what we can do. You're all dismissed," Lord Tywin said.

Flement took his leave quickly enough, exiting the door that Ser Kevan and Ser Melwyn had left through, followed by the rest of the Council.

When he looked out over the river, he saw that they were almost finished crossing now, and no more than a few hundred men remained on the other side of the Ford. And the wolves are nowhere to be found.

Flement knew he needed to find someone to speak with now that he had been placed in charge of the outriders. That must needs wait for the morrow though, he decided. Outriders had still been posted and they had sentries throughout the camp that would know of any approaching force.

He started to make for his bedchamber in the inn they were staying in, passing by many men as he went. Some of them even had the purple unicorn of Brax on their clothes he saw, and he knew that they were all in his command. I will not fail you father, he vowed silently.

The room he was staying in was small, hardly comparable to his quarters at Hornvale or even when he guested at other castles, or his tent, but after crossing that day he felt it best to not set it up. His squire had been one of those killed in the battle with the wolves too, a lad of twelve. Flement supposed he would need to find a new one.

Once this had been where the Battle of the Trident had been fought, where Prince Rhaegar had been slain by King Robert, smashing the rubies of the Prince's armor that gave the ford its name. We had another battle here, but will there be another? He wondered.

There would have to be one he supposed, knowing the Bastard of Winterfell would come south at some point with his strength. They would need to take the Ford if they wanted to attack Harrenhal.

The Young Wolf had not ridden out either, which made him feel more at ease. They would be fools to attack now, without the bastard or the Young Wolf there.

He removed his armor himself, and got into bed, hoping that they would be able to win this war.

His sons still awaited him in the west. Robert was a page at Casterly Rock, and must have seen his ninth nameday by now. Walder and Jon still remained at Hornvale with Morya. Let this war stay far from them, he prayed.

They were what he dreamt of that night, with visions of home and the comfort of his family. The next morning he woke to a horn blowing.

Author Notes:

Chronologically, Flement's first few chapters are actually a bit behind everyone else' would actually be the second chapter, after Robb I, but before the Prologue and Mychel I, as well as quite a few of these subsequent chapters.

Thanks for reading of course, and I of course want to thank you guys for all your engagements with this fic.

We're going back to Winterfell for the next chapter.