10th Month of 229 A.L.: The White Knife
Errold Stark
Being the youngest son of Beron Stark had brought many things to Errold, many of them good some bad. He had had the finest martial training that any boy in the north could have, he did not think it was a stretch to say that out of the remaining sons of Beron Stark still living, he was perhaps the best fighter out of all of them. Of course being the youngest son often meant he had to live up to the examples that his older brothers had set, and that was something that he had on occasion found very suffocating, especially when people compared him to Willam and found him lacking. That was one of the reasons why he had decided to declare himself Lord of Winterfell, Willam had been pro southern and his two older brothers were fools who were unsuited to the job, Errold knew he was charming and good looking and he also had the wealth and power to ensure that the north could become a significant power in Westeros should he become Lord of Winterfell. His marriage to Alysanne Manderly the sister to the new lord of White Harbour had ensured that he had the support of the most powerful bannerman of House Stark as well as their resources. His wife was a good looking girl who was compliant and knew her duty, last he had seen her she had been heavy with his child.
With all the support and men he had, Errold had thought to be winning the war by this point. But that was not to be the case. His allies had suffered defeats at Long Lake and at White River, and as such they had lost the Hornwoods. All in all things were looking pretty grim for Errold his support was beginning to wane and his wife's brother Lord Derryck Manderly was not as willing to kowtow to his every request as his uncle and cousin had been. And as such, it was sheer desperation that had forced Errold into launching this latest attack that had found him on the banks of the White Knife preparing to fight his brother Donnor's forces for what he hoped would be one last time before he took Winterfell. Lord Derryck, Lord Artos Locke, Lord Beron Flint and Ser Daemon Woolfield were all present in the command tent as Errold spoke. "This will be our final battle against Donnor's forces my lords. At the end of this either I will be alive and sat in Winterfell or I will be dead and your fate shall be in my brother's hands. The campaign might not have gone as well as we all hoped but there is hope yet, we still have some 1,000 men more than Donnor does and we can hope to bring that to our advantage. Ser Daemon, what news have the scouts brought?"
The man was silent a moment before he spoke. "Well my lord, your brother has positioned the Umbers and the Karstarks on the northern bank as if to tempt us into leading the assault there. His main body of men though lie on the western bank close to where we are actually camped. Your brother himself was seen close to castle Cerwyn."
"So once more Donnor Stark means to let others do his dirty work for him. How surprising, this man is not the lord of Winterfell we need. He is nothing but a cold coward." Lord Locke said heatedly.
Errold said nothing and allowed Lord Derryck to speak. "He might be cold, but never think him a coward Artos. The man is most likely trying to lure us into a false sense of security, or is trying to play on the fact that he believes us green as grass, and that he hopes we shall attack Umber and Karstark and break ourselves against them whilst he brings the rest of his host in at the side and smashes us there and then."
Errold nods that does sound like something Donnor, the cold hearted bastard that he was would do. "Aye, Lord Manderly speaks true. We cannot fall for that trap, not again. Donnor believes us on the ropes, and believes that I mean to lead you all against the Umbers and Karstarks. I intend to do no such thing. Ser Daemon, you said that Donnor had been sighted south of Castle Cerwyn?" Daemon nods and Errold continues. "Then I do believe that that is where we shall go."
He expects some sort of argument against his plan from his lords, but they offer him none and so just as the sun reaches its highest point Errold finds himself armoured and mounted and riding from the western bank in a north westerly direction, before they find themselves at the crossing, and this is where the battle begins. Donnor's archers fire off arrows at will, as do Errold's and soon enough the river is bathed red in blood, but Errold pushes through the fray, and his men follow and soon enough though the bodies of his men are filling the river, he has made it across and he begins making contact with steel on steel.
The battle is fast and quick, Errold swings his sword and brings it down again and again, felling more and more of his brother's men, all the while looking for his brother and waiting for him to appear. Errold swings, and swings, and hacks, and blocks and swings and hacks and swings again, cutting men down as if they are nothing but annoyances. He takes his fair share of blows, his armour gets dented a fair bit but he always manages to give as good as he gets, killing men, knocking them down where he cannot get enough steel on them to kill them.
Eventually Errold came face to face with his older brother, Donnor was dressed in black armour and looked grim, both of them were covered in blood and mud, but neither spoke to one another. They met in a clash of steel, sparks flying, they swung their swords at one another. A swing, a block, a swing, a hack, a gasp of pain, on and on it went as their swords met a clash of steel on steel. Hacking at one another, Donnor was a good warrior, and he was cunning, but Errold was relying on brute strength to get him through this battle, and as it began to flag, he watched with resignation as his strokes were deflected or simply missed his brother. Eventually Donnor brought Errold down to the ground with a swing and a shove, and Errold tumbled off of his horse, as his sword clattered to the ground he felt as if he was watching from elsewhere as Donnor raised his sword and brought it down splitting him in half. Errold Stark the youngest son of Beron and Lorra Stark died on the first day of the 10th month of the 229th year After Aegon's Landing he was nineteen.
10th Month of the 229A.L. : Barrowtown.
Brandon Stark
War, something he had hoped to avoid following the ending of the wildlings at Long Lake, but of course once Artos died it did seem as though war would be the only inevitability. After all, Edwyle was but a boy and Brandon and Benjen were more southern than they were northern, and so Brandon knew that they could not allow Winterfell to fall under too much southern influence, but he also knew that if Donnor became Lord of Winterfell, their independence would follow and that would bring nothing but death and grief to the people of the north. Donnor would do nothing to ease that, as he did not seem capable of proper human interaction outside of his wife and her family, and that had been something that had always irked Brandon. And so after spending two years following Long Lake drumming up support with the Dustins, the Ryswells, the Tallharts, the Cerwyns and the Flints of the Flint's Finger he had raised his banner and marched. They had gained an early victory over the Manderlys at the White River and had dented Errold's cause somewhat, and then once the Tallharts had been forced back to Torrhen's Square, Brandon had retreated back to Barrowtown with his men and had been training his men for the lightening campaign in the southern north that he had been planning for some time.
As for his family, well Brandon had wed Jeyne Dustin a woman he had been close friends with since his childhood when he had fostered at Barrowtown, a woman he loved as a sister but felt not sexual sort of love for. Jeyne was a smart woman, kind and caring and shrewd in the nature of northern politics, and her father Lord Hothar Dustin had been more than agreeable to supporting Brandon, as he wanted his daughter to be Lady of Winterfell and for his grandson to be Lord of Winterfell in the future. Brandon and Jeyne had been wed for a year before the war had broken out and when he had returned from White River they had spent nearly every night with one another, and sure enough she had now given birth to a boy who had his dark grey eyes and her dark brown hair, they had named him Arthur in honour of Jeyne's brother and Brandon's best friend. Brandon loved his son and he cared deeply for his wife, but they both knew that the one woman he truly loved, was the woman he could not have, for she was his brother's widow and was also the mother of the boy he was trying to remove, and that pained him.
Of course the war had come back to distract him from his thoughts. News had come from his spies in Errold's army that his fool of a younger brother had marched from White Harbour and had given battle to Donnor's forces. As such Brandon had marshalled his men and was now marching towards where the remenants of his brother's forces were camped, on the southern bank of the White Knife, Ser Adam Woolfield had led them after Errold had been killed and most of the men had either been slaughtered or surrendered to Donnor. Brandon stopped his party and waited for Ser Adam to approach. The man was big and burly, but seemed to know who he was. "Lord Brandon," the man hailed him. "It is a relief to see you. Myself and the men that remained true to the cause are here and waiting just three miles from here."
Brandon nodded and said. "Perhaps we should discuss the terms of our alliance and whatever other reports you have for me there then?"
Ser Adam nodded and soon enough they were within a modest tent, there Brandon, Lord Hothar, Lord Roger Ryswell and Lord Malcolm Cerwyn as well as those men who had remained behind after the bloody battle of the White Knife were seated. Brandon spoke then. "So then my lords, what terms would you have from me? After all you backed first Errold who was much younger than I, and now you back me. Will you back Donnor should I fall in battle as well?"
Ser Adam spoke. "No my lord we shall not betray you. Errold asked for us to support you should he fall in battle. And we mean to see that you are placed in your rightful place as Lord of Winterfell. Furthermore, we all know what Donnor is, the man is a tyrant in the making and we would all suffer under his rulership. No we mean to see him beat and see you as Lord of Winterfell once and for all."
Brandon nodded and then asked. "And what news have you brought me then, that would make this alliance worth wile?"
Ser Adam spoke up once more. "Well my lord, though Lord Derryck is dead he placed me in command of the running of White Harbour and as such I have written to the commander of the garrison and asked him to send more troops to us here. I have also brought news that might be distressing, Donnor Stark took Castle Cerwyn after his battle against Errold, he also now holds Winterfell."
Brandon looked at Lord Malcolm and saw that the man felt shocked and worried, and Brandon himself felt a little sick. He worried over Melantha and her children. As if sensing his worry Ser Adam spoke up. "Worry not my lord, Melantha Blackwood and her children fled the castle before Donnor took the castle. Though where they are no one is sure."
Brandon was silent for a moment and then he said. "Very well send men to find them and bring them back to White Harbour. Furthermore, there is one more thing I would request of you Ser?"
"Of course my lord." Ser Addam said.
Brandon nodded and then said. "I would have you open the port in White Harbour, for we are expecting allies from Essos, who will aid our cause as we look to taking Moat Cailin."