At Moat Cailin…
*AHOOOOOOOOO!*
*BOOM!*
*CRASH!*
As lightning bolts hit the ground, heavy rains remained battering the approaching armies as Lord Robb Stark and King Daveth Baratheon began encircling Moat Cailin, prepping their military forces for what seems to be a brutal, bloody battle. Together their combined strength numbered around 105,100 men plus the addition of siege weapons. Whilst the Northmen attacked from the northern section, the much larger southern army would strike from behind the ironborn. The plan of action was clear: retake Moat Cailin from the ironborn and drive them out; whether it is by starving them out, forcing their way inside or possibly razing the ancient fortress to the ground.
On the northern front, Robb Stark and Roose Bolton stood in front – looking on as the ironborn within the fortress moved into position. Grey Wind followed suit and stood next to his master, growling at the sight of the enemy.
"I never thought we'd actually be forced to attack this place."
"We should set the siege lines, yards from Moat Cailin," the Lord of the Dreadfort advised.
Robb shook his head. "There won't be a siege, not on our end at least. Besides, that'll take too long. The ironborn are dug in deep. And Victarion Greyjoy will likely move to counter the pincer movement after having experienced it just once."
"We have the numbers, my lord. And the ironborn don't fare well so long as they remain on the mainland away from the seas, which gives us the advantage."
"Aye. What news of your bastard son?"
"Ramsay's managed to elude being spotted by the ironborn and was last seen moving towards the Fever River with my best hunters."
The Young Wolf gripped his sword, unsheathing it. "Then that's all we'll need, Lord Bolton. The men would love a fight. I know I'd love one." He looked back at his northern vanguard before pointing the tip of his blade at Moat Cailin. "Everyone, advance on Moat Cailin! Drive the ironborn out!"
The Northmen shouted and began the charge. Elsewhere, on the southern front, King Daveth arrived with his much larger host. The Young Stag eyed Moat Cailin up and down as his Kingsguard knights rode up beside him. The ruins of Moat Cailin were visible in the distance, threaded through with wisps of morning mist as wind blew from the south. What bothered him was the sight of seeing the banners flying above the fortress displaying a golden kraken on a black field.
"How many are inside?" he asked.
"Our scouts have estimated that there are roughly 9 to 10,000 ironborn stationed within Moat Cailin, Your Grace." Lucius deduced. "They are under the command of Victarion Greyjoy, Balon's younger brother and commander of the Iron Fleet."
"I remember him. He led the surprise attack on Lannisport 11 years ago, while…" he stopped briefly before glancing back at his soldiers. "Tell me, Ser Lucius. How long do you think it'll take to set up our armament?"
"About an hour if we're lucky, maybe even two. Two and a half at best. I recommend holding at least some of our forces back away from Moat Cailin so they could get the proper siege equipment into place."
"Then let's hope the men think on their feet. Give the order."
Ser Lucius nodded and turned to the soldiers. "All right, lads! You heard your King! Get those blasted siege artilleries up! Now!"
Soldiers carrying the sigils of Baratheon, Lannister, Tarly, Tyrell, Tully, Frey, etc. scrambled as they moved to assemble the armament. However…
*BOOM!*
*BAM!*
One-by-one, fireballs were being launched from Moat Cailin and were being aimed directly at the royal host. As the troops scrambled, they noticed Victarion Greyjoy had already set up spitfires to use as defensive weapons against the mainland invaders. He looked on, smirking as the screams and shouts were echoing as more fireballs were launched into the air. Daveth was nearly thrown from his horse, steering his stallion away from the impact of the molten balls. Unsheathing his Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer, Daveth growled at the ironborn's preemptive strike.
"Dammit!" he cursed. "All forces, begin the attack! Avoid the spitfires!"
*STRETCHING, TWANG!*
*WHIP!*
*WHOOSH!*
Spitfires from over the walls and a hail of arrows being shot at them through the embrasures, the royal army was getting pounded by the frontal assault as they rushed to advance forward whilst either trying to avoid the fireballs or keep their shields held high to block the arrows. Daveth stood at the vanguard with his Kingsguard knights, their boots making faint wet squelching sounds as they pulled free of the grey-green muck; his archers struggled to get off a few rounds before each got picked off one-by-one. A couple hundred men, including the King, had managed to get to the walls before they had to hold shields above their heads to avoid getting hit with arrows and stones.
Daveth felt the heavy rocks bouncing off his shield, one after another. "Ironborn cowards!" he gritted his teeth.
"We can't stay here!" shouted Jaime, glancing at the soldiers who tried to reach them.
"Get the ladders up!"
Off in the distance, the Young Stag could see several soldiers moving towards them as they carried ladders on their shoulders. Daveth looked as most were easily picked off, lit up with arrows or blown to pieces by spitfire. More of his men were dropping, and if this were to keep up before the siege weapons could be set up, their numbers would dwindle and force them to withdraw.
Inside, Victarion Greyjoy readied his battleaxe as he heard ramming sounds from the northern end.
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
"The Northmen are ramming the rear gate!" shouted Ralf Kenning, one of Victarion's captains.
Victarion bellowed at his men. "Keep the wolves off our asses, or I'll wring your hides myself!"
Ralf moved to the opposite side of the fortress, leveling arrows down at the Northmen. Robb Stark was fortunate enough to move to the side as he searched for an opening as the ironborn began shooting arrows at them. Roose Bolton, meanwhile, examined the ironborn who were stationed on the battlements. Judging by their positions, he determined that the ironborn had the high ground and the walls. Although the rear was mostly considered of archers and those who threw stones, Roose noticed the heavy hitters are mostly located on the front gates where the royal army continues getting a brutal beating from the spitfires.
"There's too much resistance on the walls, my lord! The Oathkeeper's forces can't get a foothold," he informed Robb. "As long as the ironborn manning the spitfires are taken care of, the pincer strategy will fail and Moat Cailin remains under enemy control. Our archers will need to take them out from behind while we force our way in."
Robb observed as well. 'Hang on there, Daveth!' he quietly murmured. "Lady Maege, bring up your archers! Front and center! Take out the ironborn manning the spitfires! Lord Umber, you and Lord Karstark keep hitting the gate!"
"Get a move on, boys!" shouted Greatjon Umber to his men. "Show 'em how it's done! Keep ramming the gates with everything you've got!"
Several archers led by Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island assembled on the northeastern front of Moat Cailin, steadily beginning to take aim at the ironborn pounding the royal forces with spitfires. Timing the direction of which way the wind was blowing, Maege shouted like an angry bear.
"Archers, on me!"
"Archers, to the line!"
A small group of Northmen archers made their way to the rear flank behind the ironborn manning the spitfires. They lined up side-by-side, bows at the ready and aimed at their assigned targets.
"Nock arrows!" Maege shouted.
"Nock!" a few repeated.
"Draw!"
*STRETCHING!*
"Loose!"
*TWANG!*
Immediately in sync with one another, Maege Mormont's archers began firing a barrage of arrows over the walls of Moat Cailin. A couple landed inside, hitting most ironborn and against wooden objects inside the fortress.
*BAM!*
Three ironborn atop the battlements were hit, but were still able to remain standing. Victarion Greyjoy turned and noticed the direction where the arrows were coming from. Immediately, the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet began ordering some of his men to the battlements.
"Get the fuck up here!" he roared. "Take out that She-Bear, now!"
The ironborn raiders nocked their arrows, taking aim at Maege Mormont and her archers. The Lady of Bear Island saw them bearing down at her, snarling as she readied herself to take a hit. However…
*BAM!*
One of the arrows on the opposing side struck three ironborn in the backs, each screamed as they stumbled towards the edge of the battlements before falling off – hitting the ground with a loud, hard "thud".
"Draw! Loose!" shouted one of the royal commanders.
More arrows came from the southern side of Moat Cailin's walls, hitting the edges of the battlements, embedding themselves in the arms, shoulders and upper torso of each ironborn. Whenever one group would turn to attack the other, it left their backs completely exposed. Daveth still held his shield above his head, deflecting stones and heavy rocks as more of his troops began getting closer with the ladders.
"Your Grace!" shouted Olyvar Frey, who rushed to Daveth's side. By the look on his face, it was his first time experiencing such a brutal battle. He ran as fast as he possibly could and was trying to catch his breath.
Ser Barristan finally made it to the wall, taking cover under one of the men's shields. "The ladders are almost here, Your Grace! Our men on the northern front are keeping the ironborn distracted long enough to take some of the pressure off of us!"
"Gah! We still need to take out the spitfires!" Daveth strained under the pressure. His left arm was starting to get sore after having to hold up so long against so many stones hurled at him. He briefly looked at one of his fallen Lannister archers, and noticed a green substance pouring from the back pocket along with one spare leather wrapping used for arrowheads. "Ser Barristan!" he called out. "I have an idea!"
"What are you up to, Your Grace?"
"Just trust me! Keep the ironborn off me for a few seconds!"
Before the old Kingsguard knight could reply, Daveth disregarded his shield and ran after the dead archer's bow and arrow.
"Your Grace!" his men shouted after him.
Dodging arrows and fireballs launched from the spitfires left and right, Daveth spun and turned like his life depended on it. It was a crazy plan, he admitted, but his men were getting nowhere until the ladders could reach the walls of Moat Cailin and start climbing. The Northmen on the opposite side continued ramming against the north gate, albeit several were starting to take casualties. His side was enduring the worst of it. Briefly looking over his shoulder, Daveth noticed the barrels the ironborn were using to ignite the fireballs used by their spitfires. It was quite a distance, but if Daveth could hit just one of the barrels, then theoretically the whole thing could ignite.
Finally reaching the dead Lannister archer's weaponry, Daveth picked up the bow – narrowly missing an arrow aimed directly at his face. His flinched only once, but quickly regained his composure and picked up several arrows and dipped them into the green substance and wrapped the tip of each arrow. Back at the walls, Jaime watched what his nephew was doing and realized what the substance was.
"Wildfire…" he murmured.
Olyvar could barely hear what the Kingslayer said. "What?"
Not even bothering to answer, Jaime Lannister began shouting at the men. "Everyone! Fall back! Archers, keep the ironborn away from the King!"
"Fall back!" the soldiers started shouting.
"Protect the King!"
"Retreat!"
"Fall back!"
"Over here, you yellow-bellied ironborn bastards!"
"Come and get me!"
Back on the northern front, Robb Stark groaned as he assisted Greatjon Umber and Rickard Karstark in ramming the northern gates. Blow after blow, the gate was tough. As they prepared to charge again, one of Robb's scouts ran up to him.
"The royal forces are pulling back!"
Robb quickly looked at him in surprise. "What?" he said in seemingly disbelief. "Daveth, what are you doing?! If we don't breach both sides of Moat Cailin at the same time, the battle is lost!"
The ironborn operating the spitfires watched on as the mainland forces attacking the south gate seemingly run away, causing some of them to start laughing manically.
"Look at them go!" shouted Dagon Codd.
Harren Botley laughed. "What is dead may never die!"
Victarion noticed the commotion as more of his men shot at and killed some of the Stark forces' archers, but once he saw Daveth Baratheon standing by himself in the middle of a field – bow and arrow in hand ready to fire – the Lord Captain barely had enough time to react as one arrow whooshed past his face, hitting a wooden pillar behind him. He noticed one of the arrows had a bright green flame on the tip of the arrow and began barking more orders at his men.
"You there! Take out the Young Stag!" he yelled.
Back down below, Maege Mormont was down to her last three archers. They had taken aim at the men operating the spitfires, firing one shot after another. One of her men was lucky enough to hit one of them in the back of the head, the noise echoed a sickening crack as the ironborn slumped to the ground and fell off the ledge.
"Gods, persistent bunch of krakens!" shouted Maege.
"Mother!"
The Lady of Bear Island turned to notice her daughter, Dacey Mormont, coming to her aid. The eldest daughter and heir to Maege's lands, Dacey was just as much of a warrior like her mother on the battlefield and a beautiful young woman. She picked up a bow and fired an arrow at an ironborn who had been taking aim at Maege, striking the ironborn in the throat. Dacey watched him clutching his throat, gurgling blood as he fell off the ledge. Maege turned to notice what was occurring behind her and returned to embrace her daughter.
"Ha-ha-ha! That's my girl!" she praised.
Dacey examined Maege. "Are you hurt?" she asked.
"Bah! You're mama bear's as strong as they come! Come, let's drive these bastards out!"
"Yes, mother!"
Back at the front, Daveth was lucky enough to have avoided some of the arrows being fired directly at him. He was already down to his last two shots, and he couldn't tell whether or not he was hitting his target from this far away. Pulling on both the arrow and bowstring with his index, middle fingers and thumb, Daveth closed his left eye and aimed straight up before releasing.
*STRETCHING, TWANG!*
Another arrow shot past Victarion's face, but when he turned he noticed exactly where the Young Stag was aiming. He was aiming for the flaming barrels used for the spitfires! If any of the green-flame tipped arrows hit, the whole thing could ignite and blow up!
"KILL HIM!" Victarion shouted. "KILL HIM NOW!"
More hail of arrows came pouring down, forcing Daveth to change his position. As he turned to duck behind cover behind a ruined pillar near the ancient fortress, just small and wide enough to provide cover. But before he could hide behind it, Daveth felt a sharp pain shoot throughout his body.
*THUD!*
*BAM!*
"GAAAH!" he shouted. Daveth gritted his teeth, hissing as he shut his eyes in agony before looking down to notice three armor-piercing arrows had pierced through his armor and embedded themselves in his right shoulder, left pectoral and external abdominal oblique. Seven hells, it hurt so badly!
"He's wounded!" he heard one of his men on the hilltop exclaim.
He heard another one shout, "The King's been hit!"
"Hurry! Protect the King!"
Daveth breathed in and out quickly, a combination of pain and adrenaline shooting throughout his body. Still gritting his teeth, Daveth tightly gripped his bow and his last remaining arrow. Footsteps came rushing towards him; the Young Stag turned to notice Ser Barristan Selmy running towards him.
"You're putting yourself in harm's way too much, Your Grace! It's too risky!" he warned. "What are you trying to prove?"
"We all know the costs of failure," Daveth ignored his former mentor and tightened his grip around the bowstring. "Look, there's a cache of barrels up there which is susceptible to heat exposure. If we can hit just one of them, then the barrels should explode and get rid of the ironborn's spitfire weaponry, allowing our men to get the ladders up and gain us entry to allow Robb Stark and his men inside to complete the pincer movement."
"If that's the plan, then let me take the shot. Look, I'm not trying to demean you or anything, Your Grace, but you have three arrows lodged in you and if you get careless our cause against the ironborn is lost."
Daveth said nothing, but begrudgingly handed over the bow and arrow whilst he broke off the arrows in his body. Barristan, eyeing Moat Cailin's battlements and observing the direction the wind was blowing, pulled the bowstring back – his aim as straight as an arrow, closed one eye and launched the final arrow.
*STRETCHING! TWANG!*
Straight and true, Barristan shot the arrow from such a far distance over the walls of Moat Cailin. Inside, Victarion Greyjoy observed as the arrow rapidly approaching its target. Eyeing its destined path, Victarion grabbed his two-handed battleaxe and jumped onto the ground from the top floor.
"Incoming!" he yelled.
Before any of the ironborn on the battlements could react, the flaming arrow pierced the barrels used by the spitfire siege weapons. Serving as ignition, it was only a matter of time before Daveth's theory proved correct.
*KABOOM!*
With a force capable sending any nearby ironborn flying in every direction and catching those unfortunate on fire, the upper battlements lit up the sky which originally started as reddish-orange hue only for it to be largely replaced by a bright green flame which leapt at any unlucky ironborn caught in its path, shrieking like nothing human. Below, Robb Stark and most of his troops looked up and saw black smoke and swirling green fire – accompanied by shrieks and screams. Briefly looking down, he could see in the distance Barristan Selmy and a wounded Daveth Baratheon coming out of cover. How was this part of the plan? And if so, when and where did his childhood friend/brother-in-law acquire wildfire?
*BAM!*
*CRASH! CRUMBLING!*
A loud noise soon broke his concentration. Robb looked back and saw the northern gate had been successfully smashed off its hinges. Amongst the loud cheering and gesturing amongst the Northmen, Robb Stark was approached by one of his soldiers.
"My lord, the northern gate has been breached!" informed Harrion Karstark, eldest son and heir of Rickard Karstark. "With your leave, we can force our way into Moat Cailin and open the gates on the southern end!"
Robb nodded. "Understood. Men! Inside! Get the other gate open!" he shouted.
Grey Wind snarled and charged inside, taking out multiple ironborn left and right. They had never seen a direwolf before, and it would be the last. Standing above them stood Victarion Greyjoy, armed to the teeth. Wielding his enormous battleaxe, Victarion swung at seven Northmen in one swing before glaring at Robb Stark.
"Don't think you can get past me, boy! The true fight is about to begin once your stag friend gets here. After all… what is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger!" he bellowed.
Robb unsheathed his sword and stood his ground, assuming the battle stance. He was determined on keeping the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet's attention solely focused on him as both Harrion and his brother Torrhen Karstark managed to sneak behind Victarion to try and lift the barricade on the southern end.
######
Author's Note: This completes part 1 of the Siege of Moat Cailin. Because this story has now reached more than 600+ followers and we're now officially at chapter 50, I decided to add a bit of a surprise for all of you: Like I did with the Battle of the Blackwater event, the next chapter will include part 2 which will involve a tag team matchup with Lord Captain Victarion Greyjoy against Lord Robb Stark and King Daveth I Baratheon. Apparently one side endured a heavy beating straight out of the gate. As it stands right now, the mainland forces attacking from the south suffered 9% casualty rate (9,459 out of 105,100 men) – equivalent to the losses the Allies took during the Invasion of Normandy during World War II. And with the Young Stag receiving three arrow wounds during the first attempt to blow up the ironborn's spitefire caches, how do you think the fight with the kraken alongside the Young Wolf will affect the overall battle? Thoughts? Let me know.
Q: WHAT IS 9% OF 105,100?
_x_ = _9_
105,100 100
100x = 945,900
X = 9,459
(I remembered how much I hate doing anything involving math… Correct me if I made an error.)
Vcy: Great chapter on trials and tribulations of the oathkeeper, so can you please put up the next chapter to the story now please
―I'll work on it as soon as I can.
Bosma17: Great chapter I am curious are you going to use Daenerys in this story
―I'll bring back Daenerys soon, don't worry.
BioHazard82: Another good chapter.
―Thanks.
The Three Stoogies: a great chapter keep up the great work can't wait to read the about the bloody clash about to ensue
―Thanks. I'll keep reviewing Victarion's battle prowess in comparison with Tormund Giantsbane (by popular demand) to see if I get it right. I DO know that he's tough, so Robb Stark and Daveth Baratheon will be fighting him at the same time.
mpowers045: I hope Daveth survived
―Don't worry. Although Daveth's been shot with three arrows and is in pain, he's still in the fight.
BigWilly526: Good Chapter, but the Ironborn are screwed here Moat Cailan is built to defend from forces coming from the south, not from the North so with the Northerners breaching the gate the battle is pretty much over unless you decide to give Victarion some sort of magic ability, now it comes down to how many casualties Robb and Daveth's forces take before they win
―I had a look at the novels which detailed Victarion Greyjoy's physique. Large, muscular and powerful, a capable commander and a fierce warrior in battle who caught a sword with just one hand, I imagine he'll be a rather formidable opponent against Robb and Daveth.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
―Thanks.
DaddyChad: 9% of 105,100 is indeed 9,459
―Ah, good. I seriously DESPISE math!