Author's Note: Right guys, battle in the Whispering Wood and outside Riverrun, so expect some blood guts and gore. Oh, and some strong language too.

Chapter 4

The Raven And The Lion

Robb

They had arrived south of Riverrun just after midday. Upon arriving Robb ordered his men to set up camp and wait. If they were lucky there would not be many patrols watching the south. If they were not then Robb would have to attack straight away and risk heavy casualties. He wanted the Kingslayer lured out of the camps first, then preferably he wanted for him to be captured before launching the assault on the camps. Robb had sent Torrhen Karstark and his brother Eddard along with Harwin to aid Lord Dondarrion in his task of capturing the Kingslayer, while keeping Harrion and his father Lord Rickard close. For the last few weeks Lord Karstark has been subtly trying to get Robb interested in his daughter Alys now that her betrothed was dead. Daryn Hornwood had fallen to Ser Kevan Lannister during the Humbling of the Lion, as the small folk were calling the battle where he defeated the Lannisters, and so Alys was now available as an appropriate match for Robb.

Right now Robb was crawling alongside his great-uncle Ser Brynden up to a fallen tree that was sat on a hill south of the castle, and had a good view of the camps below. Once Robb had reached the trunk of the tree he looked over and saw the camps. Fifteen-thousand men were supposed to be laying siege to Riverrun, and the three camps dotted around gave the impression of a lot more than that. Robb looked towards his grandfather's castle and shook his head.

"So many of them," he said, earning a chuckle from the Blackfish.

"Fewer than your first battle lad," he said. "So long as the Freys don't bugger up their part of the plan we should have an easy time of it." Robb nodded his head in agreement. He trusted Brynden with helping him to plan the battles. It was his careful planning that lured Tywin Lannister to his downfall, and it will be his planning that will see the Kingslayer captured as well.

"We need Lord Frey to make his move soon," Robb told Brynden. "I have no wish to face the Kingslayer in open battle just now, not when he has so many men to fight and die for him."

"You're better off not fighting him at all," Brynden responded. "I've seen the man fight, and I tell you he is not one to go toe to toe with. Best thing to do is to swamp him with men to tire him out, then send your best fighters out to bring him down." He fell silent for a moment as the two of them looked to the ramparts. "Do you think Lord Beric will be able to bring Lannister down?" Brynden asked after a moment.

"I can only hope," Robb answered as he watched a man in yellow armour walking around behind the ramparts. "Who is that man, in the yellow armour?" he asked. He heard Brynden snort in amusement then.

"Lord Tytos Blackwood," he replied. "The Lord of Raventree Hall. He is a good man Robb. Honourable, loyal, and seems to be stubborn as well. His House keeps the old gods, and they do not trust the Brackens at all. A rivalry that stretches back for thousands of years." Robb hummed in response to Brynden's words. They watched as the man wandered around looking down at the surrounding camps. After a moment he seemed to stop and look more closely at something going on in the camp just south of the castle. Robb watched as Lord Blackwood shouted at his men while pointing towards the camp. A few moments later three men stood up to Riverrun's ramparts and loosed off arrows at the camp. Robb followed the path of the arrows and saw a group of Westermen running back, with one going down as he was hit in the back while running away. Brynden chuckled quietly beside him.

"One less for us to deal with now, the bloody fools," Robb spoke as he began to crawl back slowly.

The two of them made their way back to their camp, keeping quiet as they walked. Soon they were at the edges of the camp, where a few thousand men of the North and the Riverlands gathered waiting to attack the Westermen. Robb and Brynden made their way through the camp to the command tent, where they were met by Lord Karstark, Dacey, Greatjon and a few others. As Robb sat down Olyvar offered him a goblet, which Robb took.

"Just water Olyvar, no wine or ale just now," he said as Olyvar made his way over to the pitchers. As Robb waited for everyone to take their seats he felt Grey Wind walk beside his leg before he slumped down lazily next to him, nearly forcing him off of his seat. "Really boy?" he said quietly. Grey Wind looked up at him and gave a soft whimper in response. When Robb looked up her saw Lord Bolton walk in and take his seat. Once he was seated the conversation began. "I have had a look at the camps as they are," Robb started. "The Kingslayer's host is set up into three camps. One is south of Riverrun, and closest to us, so it will be the first to fall. The other two are situated north and west of the castle. All three camps are separated by the rivers on either side of Riverrun; the Red Fork to the south and the Tumblestone to the north. Now, we shall wait as long as possible until we get word from the Whispering Wood that Jamie Lannister is ours. The signal will be three flaming arrows being loosed off above the woods tonight at midnight. If the Freys have not captured him then we shall get one arrow to let us know that he has escaped. In the event of the three flaming arrows the Freys will attack from the north and overwhelm the northern camp, otherwise we'll be attacking from only two directions instead of three."

"My lord, if I may?" Ser Wylis spoke then. "What shall we do if we do not get either signal?" Robb bowed his head and took a deep breath.

"Honestly, I don't know," he said truthfully. "That is something I would like everyone's input on. If we do not get the signal then we may well have a problem. Either the Kingslayer never showed himself or he has managed to defeat our allies in the Whispering Wood. If that happens then we may have to attack, or we withdraw to another location and fight on our terms. What do you all say to this?" The lords gathered gave their input, and as Robb expected some began to argue with each other.

The discussion went on for an hour before everyone agreed that the best course would be to launch an assault on the southern camp only while bringing one of their most valuable prisoners to the front, that way should the Kingslayer arrive to turn the tide they can at least make him hesitate in his actions. Everyone decided that using one of their prisoners would be the best way to catch the Kingslayer off guard, and so after that the discussion turned to planning their assault should the Freys manage to capture him. Robb sat up straight as he looked at the map of Riverrun and the surrounding area.

"Now then, here is what we shall do," he said when everyone fell silent. He looked at Lord Bolton first. "Lord Bolton, I want you to gather your men north of the Red Fork, about ten miles west of the camp between the two rivers. You shall wait until you hear the war horns blasting five times, then you will swarm the western camp which will be getting ready to try and aid the southern camp, and put them to the sword." Bolton nodded his head.

"Very well my lord," he said softly. "If I may, will I be getting any help from one of my fellow Northern lords?" Robb shook his head in response.

"You shall have the men-at-arms and knights under Lord Karyl Vance fighting beside you," he said. "While you focus on the camp Lord Vance and his men shall watch the Tumblestone and repel any reinforcements trying to cross from the northern camp." The Lord of the Dreadfort gave Robb a slight smile.

"Very good my lord," he spoke. Robb found the man somewhat frightening to deal with. How have you managed to deal with him father? he thought. Of all of his lords, Roose Bolton was the only one that he did not wholly trust; the man was too soft spoken and cunning, and he seemed to look down on Robb, although not quite as much as he did to start with. Robb turned to Theon, who was facing the map while sneaking the occasional look across at Dacey. You've got no chance with her Theon, he thought with a grin.

"Theon," he called out, startling his friend. "I'll give you command of our archers again. See if you can wreak havoc on the camps as you did back near the Green Fork. Only this time don't worry about just wounding the Westermen." Theon gave him a savage smile.

"Don't you worry," he said. "Me and the rest of the archers will drop the Westermen quicker than you can draw your swords." Some of the men laughed, while others just shook their heads. Robb turned to look at Dacey then.

"Dacey, you and your warriors will lead the van this time," he said, getting an annoyed look from the Greatjon. "You will ride at the Lannister men head on and cleave a path through their camp, setting their tents alight." Dacey gave Robb a feral grin as she straightened herself in her seat.

"The Westermen won't know what hit them," she said. Robb smiled at her before looking at Greatjon.

"Greatjon," he spoke loudly, making his most ferocious and loyal lord look at him. "You will lead the attack on the southern camp's right flank," he told him. "While the Westermen will be busy reacting to Dacey's attack they won't be prepared for your assault. Hit their flank and hit them hard, and with luck we shall have the first camp overrun within half an hour." The Lord of Last Hearth grinned widely at that. "Lord Karstark, as I have sent Torrhen and Eddard with Lord Dondarrion's group I shall keep you and your men in reserve," he said as he turned to face the Lord of Karhold. Lord Rickard grunted in response.

"And here I was looking forward to turning Lannister scum into corpses my lord," he muttered, getting a few laughs from the gathered lords. Robb smiled at him.

"I need you to keep an eye on our prisoner, just in case he tries to make a run for freedom," he told him. "If all goes well then we can throw him back in his cage. If not, well we might have to be ready to kill him." Lord Rickard nodded his head.

"Very well my lord," he said. Robb looked up to Olyvar then.

"Now you can get the wine and ale," he told him.

For another hour Robb sat with his lords and listened to them as they all gave their opinion on the plan, with one or two trying to get him to change things here and there. Robb listened to the men as they spoke but ultimately nothing was changed. Some men brought in their dinner and the conversation soon turned to lighter subjects. While the lords talked Robb found himself thinking about his father and sisters, wondering if Joffrey has had them punished for his victory near the Green Fork. He wondered if they were still alive or if Joffrey has had them executed. He tried not to think of anything grim, but he could not help himself. After a while he found himself thinking about Jon, and was hoping that he was doing okay despite everything. He hoped that Jon was not planning on doing something stupid, but with Arya's situation being unclear Jon could do anything stupid, seeing as he has always been closest to her. The last thing Robb wanted was to find himself facing the possibility of having to execute Jon for desertion. Would he have it in him? Could he go so far as to commit kinslaying?

After the lords had eaten their dinner they all dispersed to their own tents. Robb sat at his seat for a short while, with Theon and Smalljon beside him. The three of them spoke for a while before Robb decided to go and see his mother. Smalljon left to go and see his father while Theon muttered about finding a woman to keep him warm. Robb left the tent with Grey Wind following him. As they walked through the camp Robb was followed by Olyvar; the young Frey has been Robb's shadow since joining him several days ago. He was a typical Frey in appearance, but not quite as weasel faced as most of his kin. He was dutiful, and did whatever Robb told him to do, be it serve drinks or clean his ringmail. He also proved himself to be a fast learner, Robb noticed, as he seemed to grasp the sigils of the North fairly quickly. I wonder if Bran is learning more of his sigils? he thought to himself.

After walking through the camp for a while, stopping every now and then to speak with various men-at-arms, Robb found himself right outside his mother's tent. He turned to Olyvar and dismissed him for the evening, telling him to take a couple of hours before going to his tent and making sure that his arms and armour were ready. Once Olyvar was away Robb entered his mother's tent, announcing his presence before going in. His mother looked at him as she sat on the bed, a sleeping Nymeria at her feet. The direwolf had been staying near Catelyn since walking into her tent a few days ago.

"Robb," she said as she stood up and walked over to him. They embraced each other briefly before stepping apart. "How did it go?" she asked.

"We have decided on a plan that we all agree on," he told her. "At midnight we strike if the signalling arrows are loosed off above the Whispering Wood. If we get no arrows after an hour, we will launch our assault as planned, just without an attack on the northern camp." He saw the worried look in his mother's eyes then.

"Are you sure of this Robb?" she asked him fearfully. "We hold his father and brother hostage. We can just march up to his camps and tell him to surrender. We have destroyed his father's host, we do not need to march on the camps and slaughter them all." Robb sighed. His mother was always trying to think of the best way to end the conflict without further bloodshed, but Robb knew that it would not work as planned.

"The Kingslayer will demand a trial by combat to free his kin," he said. "We both know who would win in that situation mother. I want this to end as much as you do, but we need to take him captive. Otherwise those fifteen-thousand men out there will march on someone else and sack another keep or town. Can you live with that, knowing that people died because you tried a more peaceful approach with a man who only wants to solve his problems with his sword?" Catelyn looked at him with a stern face then, but after a moment she walked back to her bed and sat down. As she sat Nymeria stirred, drawing their attention. Robb watched his mother laugh at the direwolf before she grabbed a brush and began to brush the beast's fur.

"She is not quite as troublesome as Arya usually would be," she said. "I'd have thought that being Arya's direwolf she would be more aggressive than she is just now." Robb smiled as he walked over to a seat and sat down.

"She probably recognises that you're Arya's mother," he said. "Father did say that direwolves are as smart as we are. Didn't you tell me that she cocked her head to the side when you spoke about me being who she would normally be around before realising that she was Nymeria and not Grey Wind?" Catelyn chuckled at that, nodding her head.

"I always told Arya to take better care of herself," she said after a few moments. "I always told her to look after her appearance. She always complained that she was not as pretty as Sansa, so she shouldn't have to worry about her looks. I always have to brush her hair and make sure that she has cleaned herself. Yet, while she seems unable or unwilling to keep herself clean and presentable, I always found her looking after Nymeria, keeping her clean and brushing her fur, during the short time that she was in Winterfell." Nymeria looked up at her then, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as she panted. Robb smirked as he watched his mother brush Nymeria.

"Did she get a different brush for Nymeria, or did she use her own brush?" Catelyn looked up then, her eyes wide with realisation.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past her to use her own brush on Nymeria," she said.

They sat in silence for a short time as Catelyn brushed Nymeria's fur, with Robb just watching as she did that. Robb enjoyed the silence for a short time, but he found his thoughts wondering to dark places. He was thinking about what would happen if he failed, and how it would effect his family. The last thing that he wanted was for his House to end with him should he lose this conflict, and yet the way things were going, so long as Robb did not fail in his task, it would be the Lannisters whose line could end, by his hand no less. He could not help but wonder how Tywin Lannister could be feeling just now.

"How long until you need to prepare?" his mother asked him then, drawing him back to reality. Robb looked at his mother and stifled a yawn that threatened to happen then.

"Not long now I think," he answered. Catelyn let out a long breath then, before looking at him.

"Then perhaps you better go to your tent and get yourself settled then?" she suggested. "I can see that you're restless, but sitting here isn't helping you Robb."

"I know mother," he answered. "I just can't seem to stop wondering how this is all going to turn out. It's driving me mad." He rubbed his head then before stroking his fingers through his beard. He stood up and began to pace. "I keep thinking about father, and Sansa and Arya. I find myself being afraid for them all of the time, wondering what they're going through. And then I wonder, what will become of us if we should fail? If I fail? The thought is maddening mother, and I can't stop thinking about it..."

"Then go out there and do something," Catelyn interrupted then. "It's no good thinking about what ifs when you should be focused on your plans. Go and take Grey Wind for a walk, have a drink with Theon or Lord Umber's son, eat with Ser Wylis and his brother Ser Wendel, but for gods sakes stop worrying about what if we lose. That will not help any of us." Robb looked at his mother then and sighed.

"You're right," he admitted. "I'm being an idiot over this." He walked over to the tent's entrance and made to leave, looking over his shoulder before he did so. "I'll see you later mother." With that he walked out and made his way back to his own tent, determined not to think of the worst.

Torrhen

The group of men sat atop of their horses, just waiting for the Kingslayer to arrive. Torrhen was getting impatient now, struggling to keep his eyes open. He and his brother Eddard were sent with Lord Dondarrion a few days ago to join the combined forces of the Freys and the Mallisters as they prepared to lure out the Kingslayer, who Torrhen was looking forward to fighting. He can still hear his older brother Harrion chastising him for voicing such thoughts. As he sat on his horse Torrhen looked out into the clearing that Lannister would be lured into. He gripped his sword's hilt in anticipation of the fight to come.

"Nervous Torr?" his brother asked from beside him. Torrhen looked to his right and shook his head.

"Not at all," he said. A little piece of him was frightened at dying, but that fear was not as bad as the first time. He remembered charging beside Robb at the Humbling of the Lion; riding down Lannister men, hacking his sword down at them and carving them into bloody chunks. He remembered watching Robb disarm and subdue several Westermen knights, including Ser Harys Swyft. He remembered watching some jumped up little fool named Amory Lorch challenge Dacey Mormont, probably thinking that he would have an easy fight with Dacey being a woman, only to be knocked out by a single swing of her mace's haft, which struck his face. He remembered the elation that he felt when he saw the Mountain fall to Ser Wylis Manderly's lance, and the duel between Robb and Ser Kevan Lannister end with Robb killing the knight who was the Old Lion's brother. That night after the battle had ended he had drank much ale and had bedded a lovely camp follower who caught his eye. The woman was comely enough to stir his member, and Torrhen enjoyed taking the woman. All in all it was a good day that day.

Right now Torrhen yawned and stretched his arms out to try and stay awake. He was getting tired, having been awake since sunrise, and all he wanted was some ale in his belly and a pretty woman to warm his bed, but right now all he could do was stay awake. Old gods give me strength, he thought. How much longer until that golden haired shit arrives? Almost as soon as the thought enters his head he hears a group of men on horses ride into the clearing that was to be used to trap them.

"About bloody time," the Winterfell man, Harwin, said. "Now we just have to wait until they are all in."

"Not so fast Harwin," Lord Dondarrion spoke then, making all eyes turn to him. "There will be no point to this trap if we do not see Ser Jamie down there. We do not charge until we see him." Torrhen nodded his head in agreement with the Stormlander lord. He remembers Robb being very specific about waiting until they see the Kingslayer. He looks at the lord then and clears his throat.

"What's the best way to go about taking the Kingslayer down Lord Dondarrion?" he asked. The lord opened his mouth to answer when a war horn sounded from the Frey side of the woods. Torrhen turned to see Lord Stevron's son Ser Ryman leading the charge.

"No you fucking fool!" Lord Dondarrion yelled. "Impatient idiotic cunt!" Torrhen found himself surprised at the Southron lord's stream of curses, but then he remembered what his father told him about the lords who hail from the Stormlands; "The men of the Stormlands are a loud people Torrhen. They are hardy like us Northmen, and tend to curse a lot and fight just as much, and that's just the small folk. The lords however, they make Dothraki seem better mannered." Torrhen watched as Lord Dondarrion drew his sword from his scabbard and pointed it towards their foe. "TO ME! TO ME!" he bellowed as he kicked his horse to gallop into the fighting.

Torrhen rode his horse hard, with Eddard beside him with his axe raised above his head. Torrhen had his hand-and-a-halfer drawn and ready, eager to bring the Westermen down. As he rode he scanned the clearing ahead of him; the Freys under Ser Ryman had crashed into the Westermen and began to hack and slash into them, while the host made to counter-attack as quickly as they could. As they approached the host from their rear Torrhen realised why Lord Dondarrion was angry; he saw no sign of the Kingslayer whatsoever. He had no time to think about it now though, as they were committed to the attack. As he got closer to the enemy a Westerlands knight looked over his shoulder and saw Torrhen charging at him. Torrhen raised his sword over his left shoulder and when he was close enough he slashed to his right, slicing the man's head clean off. For him the battle had now started.

The line of horse smashed into the rear of the Lannister host, trapping the men in a trap that they could not escape from. Torrhen saw men fall, some dead while others only fell to the ground with minor wounds or no wounds at all. From the corner of his eye he saw his brother Eddard smash his axe down into a Westerman's face, cleaving the head in two. Torrhen saw a spear being thrust at his face, so he ducked his head down and slashed his sword at the haft of the spear, breaking it. He quickly followed up with a downward diagonal slash that sliced his assailant's chest open. He readied himself for another opponent and saw a knight rush him with his longsword drawn. Torrhen parried the incoming strike away with his blade and slashed his sword up towards the knight's exposed arm, the tip slicing into the armpit, which he then thrust into. The knight cried out in pain as Torrhen twisted his blade and pulled it out; blood sprayed from the wound as the knight toppled off of his horse. Torrhen turned to find another foe to fight only to see a horseman with his sword raised above his head ready to strike down, but the man froze. Torrhen looked at the man's face to see his face contort in pain before his arms went limp. The man fell from his horse and Torrhen saw Lord Dondarrion with his bloodied sword in hand. Torrhen nodded his head in thanks before turning to continue the fight.

The battle lasted for a good hour, with Torrhen fighting many men and knights, killing many and injuring even more. He hacked, slashed, thrust, blocked, parried and dodged. A slash there, a throat opened here; a thrust here, a belly perforated there. On it went for an hour until only a handful of Westermen were left, and they did not seem willing to surrender. Torrhen came face to face with a big boar of a man; a knight with a boar sigil upon his breastplate, with a large build and a two headed war axe.

"Be ready to meet the Stranger you filthy savage!" the man yelled as he spurred his horse towards Torrhen, who raised his sword up to block the knight's strike. The man was strong, and his blow made Torrhen nearly fall off of his horse. Torrhen just managed to keep himself on his horse's back and parried another blow that would have taken his head. The knight was too strong for him to take on alone. Torrhen tried to strike out at the knight but the man swatted away his strike, laughing. "Pathetic!" the knight snapped. "When you go to your blasted tree gods, tell them Ser Lyon Crakehall sent you!" The knight lunged at him, the axe head hitting him full in the chest. Torrhen's armour absorbed the blow, but he knew that he would have an awful bruise, and judging by the pain that he felt he reckoned that a rib had just been cracked. Again Torrhen managed to stay on his horse despite the agony that he felt in his chest. The Crakehall knight swung his axe overhead and brought it down to meet Torrhen's face, but another axe blocked its path.

"Not so fast cur!" Eddard shouted as he pushed his axe forward, forcing the knight back. As he did not expect the intervention Ser Lyon toppled off of his horse, but Torrhen saw that he managed to roll away and stand back on his feet. Eddard swung his axe down at the knight, swinging for his head repeatedly, but the man was quick enough to block every blow. Torrhen urged his horse onward, and soon joined the fight, doing his best to ignore the pain in his chest. He swung his sword at the knight at the same time as Eddard swung his axe. Despite facing two incoming strikes Ser Lyon was able to take the sword strike on his shoulder armour while blocking the axe blow. As Torrhen raised his sword for another strike the knight punched his gauntleted fist into Torrhen's horse, making the mount rear up. Torrhen tried to stay on his horse, but before he knew it he was falling down. He landed hard on his back, the pain in his chest intensifying. Torrhen rolled onto his side and watched from the ground as Eddard fought the knight of Crakehall by himself. A Frey man-at-arms tried to help, only to be cut nearly in half by the knight's counter attack. Eddard hacked down with his axe, but he overextended his strike and missed the knight. Ser Lyon grabbed Eddard's arm and pulled him off of his horse.

"EDD!" Torrhen shouted as he struggled to get on his feet, grasping his sword. He got onto his feet, fighting the pain that now shot throughout his body, and watched helplessly as Ser Lyon drove his war axe into Eddard's belly, tearing clean through his ringmail. Blood frothed up from his mouth then, painting his chin and jaw red. "NOOOOOO!" Torrhen roared as he charged at the man who just killed his brother. Screaming in anger, numb to the pain in him, Torrhen began to swing his sword viciously at Ser Lyon, who only just got his axe up ready to block. Torrhen hacked and slashed mercilessly, striking fast enough to not give his foe a chance to strike back. He kept up with his attacks until the knight tried to push him back, only for Torrhen to take the blow to his body, gritting his teeth as red hot pain flared through him. Torrhen snarled a war cry and smashed his head forward; he was wearing a half helm forged from iron, and he aimed his blow for Ser Lyon's face. As he expected the Crakehall knight moved back then, creating some distance between the two of them.

"Just die already!" Ser Lyon yelled as he swung his axe one handed at Torrhen. Rather than step back Torrhen lunged forward, thrusting his sword with all of his remaining strength. He aimed the tip of his blade up under Ser Lyon's helm as he stepped into the arc of his swing. Their bodies collided, the path of Ser Lyon's axe being halted as his arm hit Torrhen's shoulder, while Torrhen thrust his hand-and-a-halfer up into the knight's jaw and out the top of his skull, the blade going through his helm.

"You first," Torrhen hissed as Ser Lyon gurgled, blood running down from his helm and along the blade of Torrhen's sword. Torrhen pulled his sword out from the knight's head and staggered back as the boar of a knight dropped dead.

Torrhen looked around him to see that the fighting was done. A few Westermen were taken prisoner while the ones who were severely wounded were finished off. Torrhen looked around him until he saw Eddard lying down on his back, coughing up blood. Torrhen rushed to his brother's side, staggering when he was halfway there; the pain in his chest was excruciating. There was no doubt that Torrhen had a broken rib, or at least a cracked rib. Torrhen did not care for that just now; he only cared for Eddard.

"Edd," he gasped out, grasping his brother's hand. Eddard looked up at him, one hand clutching his belly as blood rushed out, holding his guts in place. Torrhen felt the urge to vomit upon seeing his brother's mushed up guts. Eddard was trembling.

"T... Torr..." he managed weakly, his voice quiet. "I... I feel... feel cold... ssssoooo coollddd..." His body shook violently for a couple of seconds before going limp. Then his eyes simply stared up, open but not seeing.

"Edd?" Torrhen spoke softly. "No, Edd, no. Please." He felt tears threatening to spill then, and he tried to blink them back. His heart broke as he looked down upon his brother's lifeless body. He could not believe it. Eddard was dead. His brother, who we played with as a young boy, who joined him in his teasing of little Alys, who laughed with him when they played pranks on Harrion and their father, was dead. It did not seem real. Then he gave in to his grief.

Torrhen let the tears fall as he clutched his brother's lifeless body. He cried in grief and anger at what happened. Eddard had dreams of being a renowned warrior that folk would sing about in decades to come, but now that would never happen; he would only be remembered as another man who fell at the Whispering Wood in a bid to capture the Kingslayer. As he sat there, with tears falling from his eyes, Torrhen heard raised voices. He turned his head to look at the source, and saw that Lord Dondarrion was bellowing into the face of Ryman Frey, who stood there with a stupid look on his face. Fighting the pain in his chest Torrhen stood up, grimacing as the pain jabbed at him, as if a dagger had been thrust into him and twisted. He walked over to them wiping his face of tears as Lord Stevron, Ryman's father, walked over.

"I... I make no apologies Ser," he heard Ryman stutter. "I followed the plan..."

"First, its 'my lord', you brainless little piece of cunt shit!" Dondarrion yelled, his voice a thunderstorm of anger. "Second, if you had followed the plan then you would've waited until the war horns on my side of the woods had sounded! We were not to charge until we saw the Kingslayer, not some Lannister lookalike that could've been anybody!" Ryman looked indignant at Lord Dondarrion's words.

"Now hold on a minute..."

"Son!" Lord Stevron shouted as he got closer to the two men. Ryman Frey turned to look at his father, his mouth open ready to speak, only to receive a mailed fist in his mouth. For an old man Lord Stevron can pack quite a punch Torrhen realised as the man's eldest son and heir sprawled to the ground. Torrhen saw Dondarrion's eyes rise in wonder at the old Frey's work, and both saw Lord Stevron shake his hand; no doubt it hurt his hand when he punched his son. "You are a blasted disgrace boy!" he shouted. Ryman looked up at his father. "My grandsons, Edwyn and Petyr, your own sons, died needlessly because of your recklessness!" Torrhen noticed that Ryman's face fell at the mention of his sons deaths. "I will now have to tell their little girls, my own great-granddaughters, that their fathers died because of their own grandfather's stupidity! Have you no shame?" Ryman struggled to stand up, but Torrhen put his boot on the man's leg to keep him in place.

"Get off me!" he shouted at him.

"I'll let you stand when your lord father commands it," he said to him. He wanted to roar at Ryman but the pain was too much, so he would not shout just now.

"Aegon is far smarter than you are Ryman!" Lord Stevron snapped. "Why the gods cursed my second son to be a fool I will never fathom, but we all know who the real fool is among my own sons!"

"Jinglebell doesn't have even half a sodding brain!" Ryman spat, earning himself another punch, this time from another Frey. "Argh, fuck off Walton!"

"I should kill you for getting my nephews killed Ryman," the Frey named Walton spoke, "but no man is so accursed as the kinslayer." Torrhen looked at Lord Stevron who nodded his head at him, signalling to him to take his foot off of Ryman's leg. Torrhen stepped back and walked over to stand beside Dondarrion.

"So I shall do the only thing I can do," Lord Stevron said. "It pains me to do this Ryman, it really does. My father taught me the value of family, but it seems that you sought to follow your own path, as many of our kin have, at the expense of family. Your actions here tonight leave me no other option. Ryman Frey, as the Lord of the Crossing, I Stevron Frey do hear-by disinherit you." Torrhen looked at the old lord in shock. "I strip you of your knighthood, I forbid you from bearing our name, and I send you to the Wall, where you will take the black and become a sworn brother of the Night's Watch." Ryman blinked.

"B... but father, you can't..."

"You are no son of mine, I wash my hands of you," Lord Stevron spoke. It was then that Torrhen noticed two men had been standing just across from him; Lord Jason Mallister and his son Patrek, judging by the sigils they wore on their armour. "My Lord Mallister, I trust that you can assign an escort to take Ryman to Seagard?" Lord Mallister nodded his head and turned to his son.

"Patrek, take the man to some of our men who are securing prisoners," he said. "I'll take him with me when the time comes to take prisoners to secure cells. From there he'll take ship to Deepwood Motte and then be taken to the Wall." Torrhen watched as Patrek Mallister and one other man grabbed Ryman Frey and hauled him to his feet.

"Father, you can't do this," the older man said as tears flooded from his eyes. The two men dragged him away. "Father! FATHER!" Lord Stevron turned away from the scene.

"Lord Frey?" Dondarrion asked. Torrhen looked at the old man, who seemed to have aged rapidly in the last few moments.

"Seven forgive me," he said. "I have just sent mine own son to die at the Wall."

Torrhen decided to walk away from both lords then, walking back to his brother's body. He trudged back, clutching his chest as the pain flared up. He knew that he would not be able to take part in the next battle, not until his injury had healed. He staggered back to where he had left Eddard's body, and nearly fell when a pair of arms steadied him.

"Take it easy," the man said. Torrhen looked to see Walton Frey standing beside him. He let the man help him to sit on the ground. "You okay?" he asked. Torrhen shook his head.

"I think my rib is either cracked or broken," he answered. "Feels like I've taken a dagger and had it twisted." Walton smirked at that.

"Believe me, that's nothing," he replied as he sat his rear on the grass beneath. "I've taken a few knocks over the years, quite a few nasty ones too. Admittedly, I got most of them at tourneys." Torrhen smirked at him.

"You Southrons and your cursed tourneys," he mumbled as he looked back at Eddard's body. His brother seemed so peaceful, despite his lifeless eyes looking back at him. After a moment Torrhen leant over and pulled his eye lids shut.

"Friend?" Walton asked. Torrhen sighed.

"My brother," he said, his voice on the verge of breaking.

"I'm sorry," Walton responded. "It's never easy to lose kin. Especially kin you love." Torrhen looked at him, his brow raised. "My sister, Maegelle, died a few years ago in childbirth. And I have lost other kin. Now my nephews Edwyn and Petyr are dead, thanks to Ryman. I could never stand my drunken idiot brother."

"I'm surprised your father cast him out like that," Torrhen said.

"So am I," Walton said. "Grandfather always said that family was important. He may have been unpleasant to folk, but Old Walder looked after his family, regardless of who they were." Torrhen struggled to his feet and took a shaky step as one of his father's men approached with a horse.

"Milord Torrhen, me an' a couple of the others found yer horse by the edge of t' woods," he said. Torrhen took his mount's reins, thanking the man-at-arms.

"Hey pal, you okay?" he said as he checked the horse's snout, where the Crakehall knight had punched him. He saw Walton walk over to him from the corner of his eye.

"If you want I can help you with your brother's body," he said. Torrhen looked at the Frey, and after thinking about it he nodded his head. The two of them walked over to Eddard's body when a younger looking man who looked like a Frey ran over.

"Father, lord grandfather is calling for us to reorganise our men to assault the northern camp," the Frey said. Walton looked at him.

"Okay then Steffon," he said. "Have you seen your cousin Walder?"

"Which Walder?" the man asked. Torrhen heard Walton sigh then.

"Black Walder."

"Oh yes, I saw him getting some men together to loot the dead Lannister men," Steffon replied. Torrhen looked up then and saw the look of disgust in Walton's eyes.

"All right then son," he said. "Go and get yourself ready."

"Yes father," he said before he ran off. Torrhen watched the man run off.

"Steffon the Sweet we call him," Walton said. Torrhen looked quizzically at him.

"The Sweet?"

"He has a sweet sounding voice and a sweet nature, but he is nearly twenty-five," Walton answered. The two men worked on getting Eddard's body sorted out for transport, with Torrhen calling to one of his men to make sure his brother's body is not disturbed. As they worked Torrhen stepped back, the pain in his chest too much to allow him to continue working.

"Damn this pain," he said, clutching at his chest again. He leaned against his horse then, and looked at Walton. "It seems I'll be sitting this fight out," he told him. "I won't be fighting again until I have seen a Maester."

"Aye, that's probably for the best," Walton said as he walked over to a horse.

"Do me a favour Walton Frey," he called out to him as he mounted the horse. "Kill as many Lannisters for me, will you?" The Frey gave him a small smile.

"Will do," he said. "For you and you brother." He rode his horse away from Torrhen then, but before he got too far off he looked over his shoulder at him. "What House are you from anyway?" Torrhen stood up as straight as his injury would allow him to.

"Karstark of Karhold," he called out to the man.

"Then I'll send the scum to the Stranger gladly. For Karstark." And then Walton Frey turned around and rode off. Torrhen watched the man ride away before he turned to walk back to his horse, wincing with every fifth or sixth step. Gods I need to see a Maester, he thought as he looked up and saw a single flaming arrow flying up into the sky.

Tytos

Tytos watched from the ramparts of his liege lord's castle as a single flaming arrow flew up over the Whispering Wood to the north. It was night time, and the arrow seemed out of place; Tytos hoped that it was an ally signalling an upcoming assault. He was fed up with being stuck in Riverrun. All he wanted to do was run his sword through Jamie Lannister, but as long as the man held his liege lord's son hostage he could not get close enough to him. Edmure Tully seemed a fool, rushing off to meet his foe without a clear plan of escape. Eager for sodding glory that one, he thought as he continued with his rounds. Along the walls were men sworn to both Houses Tully and Blackwood, his own House.

Tytos had been summoned to Riverrun by Ser Edmure some weeks ago when word had reached them that Tywin Lannister was marching upon the Riverlands. The lords and knights of the Riverlands were just mustering when Jamie Lannister's host descended upon them, and fighting took place outside the walls of Riverrun. Ser Edmure rushed forwards to engage the Kingslayer in single combat, but he was captured along with many other knights while the remaining knights and lords were routed. Tytos had managed to get back inside Riverrun with his men and his two eldest sons Brynden and Lucas, who had joined him on the journey to Riverrun from Raventree Hall. And so they have been under siege ever since.

Tytos resumed his walk along the walls when Brynden came running up to him, his longbow in hand. The man who was his son and heir had his dark hair falling down to his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard around his mouth and chin. He had a quiver of a score and ten arrows on his back, and a sheathed longsword on his belt.

"Father, the Kingslayer is shouting up to us again demanding that we lay down our arms and open the gates," he reported, his face full of annoyance. Tytos sighed loudly as he asked his son to lead him to the west wall that overlooked the site where the Kingslayer was. No doubt the Lannister heir was going to threaten to hang Edmure again if Tytos did not open the gates. As he walked with his son he leaned closer to him.

"Remember Brynden, if anything happens, loose off your arrow at the noose, not anyone else," he said.

"I will father, don't worry," Brynden answered. After a moment of walking the two of them came upon Lucas who was looking down to the western camp past the water filled moat. Down at the front, standing on a scaffold that had been hastily built, was the Kingslayer. Beside him were a few men of his father's Household guard, and with a noose around his neck was Ser Edmure. Tytos shook his head.

"Lord Blackwood!" the son of Tywin Lannister called out. "I give you this one chance to surrender Riverrun to me. Yield the castle and I shall let you and Ser Edmure live. If you do not then I will kill you once we breach the walls, after I have hanged the Tully boy here." Tytos looked over to Brynden then, who was looking back at him shaking his head.

"As always father, he's bluffing," he said.

"I'm not so sure this time," Tytos replied. There was something in the Kingslayer's voice that sounded off. He was not sure what it was, but it sounded like Jamie Lannister was unsettled, as if he was in a hurry. Maybe he saw that arrow and thinks trouble is heading his way, Tytos thought with a grin. "We both know that you cannot afford to kill Ser Edmure. My archers have their arrows knocked and ready. If you kill him then my archers will loose off their arrows and make a hedgehog out of you." His words got several men along the walls laughing, and he could have sworn he saw a smirk from Ser Edmure. The Kingslayer looked frustrated though, and was shifting on the spot. Very strange, Tytos thought as a squire came running up to him.

"My lord," he said. "We have spotted men riding from the south. They are riding for the southern camp." Tytos looked at the lad.

"Lannister reinforcements?" Lucas asked. Before he could respond Tytos heard a war horn sound in the distance. It was a familiar sounding war horn, but he could not quite place it. Tytos looked down to where the Kingslayer was stood and noticed that he was looking furious, barking commands to his men as he stomped away to the southern camp across the Red Fork, leaving a confused Ser Edmure standing with a noose around his neck. Tytos looked at Brynden.

"Stay here and watch over Ser Edmure," he commanded. "If anyone tries to approach him they may be about to kick him off the edge of the scaffold. If they do, loose an arrow off at the noose before you loose an arrow off at the Lannister men." Brynden nodded at his father.

"Yes my lord," he spoke, his voice formal as he was addressing the Lord of Raventree Hall rather than his father. Tytos turned to Lucas then.

"Lucas, follow me," he said as he rushed off to the wall overlooking the southern camp.

It took Tytos a couple of minutes to reach the south wall, and when he did he could finally make sense of the sounds that he heard. He looked over the wall to see a host of mounted men riding through the camp, setting tents ablaze and cutting Westermen down. Other men were charging on foot from the east, off to Tytos's left. He watched their progress as they neared the camp, where the Westermen were running off to either flee the incoming soldiers or help their comrades. When the attackers finally closed the gap Tytos saw a huge man with a greatsword carve a Westerman knight in two from shoulder to hip. Tytos saw the man clearly as he stood next to a brazier; the man was massive with a muscular frame, probably near seven feet tall, had dark hair that could have been either brown or black, a full beard, and an ugly looking greatsword that Tytos has seen twice before; once during Robert's Rebellion, and once again during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

"Greatjon fucking Umber," he stated with a wide grin. "The men of the North are here."

"The North?" Lucas said beside him. "But, they have come from the south, not the north."

"Aye lad," Tytos answered. "We'll find out why soon enough, but I think they must have beaten Tywin Lannister's host just enough to make them run for King's Landing." As he spoke he continued to watch the Greatjon and his men cut through the Westermen with contemptuous ease, while the mounted men who launched the assault continued to ride through the camp lighting fires and hacking men down. Tytos noticed the black bear of Mormont among the riders and the men on foot who had joined them at the same time as the Umber men. As he watched he chuckled to himself.

"Lord Blackwood!" a voice shouted out. Tytos turned to see Ser Robin Ryger, the captain of the guard at Riverrun. "A large host of men have emerged from the Whispering Wood and have fallen on the camp situated across from the Tumblestone. They carry the banners of Houses Mallister and Frey." Tytos blinked then. So Old Walder has finally decided to send aid has he?

"Northmen to the south, Frey and Mallister to the north, what next, Ironborn from the east?" Lucas said with a smile, his tone suggesting that he was japing. Fighting the urge to snigger at his son's comment Tytos looks at Ser Robin.

"Have men gather at the gates facing the western camp," he ordered. "I'd wager that there will be a host coming from the west soon. When they do we will attack from the gate. Lucas, you will help Ser Robin to hold the gate until I return. I intend to free the prisoners that the Lannisters hold." Lucas looked glumly at him, no doubt he wanted to take part in the fight. One stern look from Tytos though made him nod in agreement.

It was nearly ten minutes later when Tytos heard five horn blasts, one after the other. He was getting up onto his horse after making sure that his sword was in his scabbard. Once on his horse he looked around the courtyard, where he saw Tully guardsmen and his own levies getting ready. Most were on foot, and half of them would charge out and engage the Lannister men-at-arms while the other half would stay and defend the gate to stop the enemy from getting in. Tytos would lead his cavalry as they cut through the Westermen to reach the prisoners. As he took his helmet from one of his sworn-swords a young Tully guardsmen ran up to him.

"Milord, a large group of men have marched from the west," he told Tytos. "They are charging into the Lannisters, but the Lannisters have formed a shield-wall to slow 'em down." Tytos grunted in acknowledgement.

"Did you see the sigils of the host coming from the west?" he asked the lad.

"I only saw one milord," he said. "It was of a flayed man it was. Never seen a sigil like that 'round these parts." A shudder went up Tytos's spine then.

"Bolton," he spoke quietly. "So the Lord of the Dreadfort marches on the Kingslayer then? I wonder what Bolton will make of it when he sees Lannister's son in the western camp." When he finished musing Tytos looked at the sworn-sword that had mounted his horse beside him. "You there," he called out to him, "you will lead the foot into the rear of the Westermen that are forming up a shield-wall to meet the Northmen who march on them, then I want you to break contact with them and carve a path northward before heading back to the gate." The sworn-sword bowed his head.

"Aye milord," the man said gruffly. Tytos turned to see a lad offer a lance up to him.

"Put that away lad," he told him. "Fetch me a spear instead." The lad nodded his head before running off. Lances are for poxy knights. I'm no bloody knight, he thought. He urged his horse forward to the front of the men gathered in the courtyard. "MEN OF THE RIVERLANDS!" he shouted to draw their attention. "Out there are a bunch of villainous Westermen who for weeks now have been killing your fathers and brothers, beating you sons and daughters and raping your mothers and sisters. Will you stand and let them go unpunished for these actions?"

"NO!" the gathered men shouted.

"Will you let them walk away for the crimes they've committed against our fellow Rivermen?"

"NO!" Tytos pointed his finger to the gate.

"Beyond that gate are Northmen, marching beside our fellow Rivermen, with the intent of sending the Westermen screaming to their deaths!" he yelled as the lad he sent to get him a spear returned with said weapon. He took the spear and thanked the lad before looking at the men once more. "But as far as I'm concerned, we shouldn't let our friends have all the fun! Open the gate!" The men in the gatehouse rushed to follow Tytos's order, and soon the gate began to open. "Men of the Riverlands! WITH ME, TO BATTLE!" he roared as he led the charge out of the gate when the drawbridge had been lowered.

Tytos felt the air rush past him as he spurred his horse onwards, the spear raised. A Westerman standing in front of him turned too late to see him coming at him, and was trampled into the ground beneath him. He heard the sound of hooves behind him as he led the men into a group of soldiers that were trying to form up to receive his charge. He laughed as he threw his spear at them, the weapon flying through the air and into the throat of an unlucky pikeman. His horse smashed into the Westermen, hurling them aside like rag-dolls. He rode his horse on, past the men he had just smashed through as his horsemen ploughed them into the earth with their charge. His heart beat fast as he looked around him; Lannister soldiers were either rushing to meet the advancing Northmen or running to the banks of the Red Fork to try and cross to aid their comrades. Tytos drew his sword and charged south to where he knew the prisoners were being held. He glanced over his shoulder to see his men either charging into the rear of the shield-wall that was being formed up or riding after him, with a dozen riders going in the opposite direction from him.

"WITH ME!" he roared once again as he waved his sword forward. Tytos charged towards the stockades where the prisoners were being held, slashing his sword at a foolish Westerman who tried to stop him, blood jetting from the man's body where Tytos's blade sliced through. "GET THE PRISONERS OUT!" he shouted as he thrust his sword into a knight's throat. His men swarmed the Lannister men that got in their way, thrusting their spears or slashing with their swords at the enemy. Another Westerman knight charged at Tytos with a lance aimed for him, screaming like a maniac. Tytos urged his horse forward to avoid the tip of the lance which sailed past where he had been a mere moment ago before riding after the knight and cutting him down, his sword cutting the knight's arm off at the elbow. As his opponent slumped off of his mount screaming in agony Tytos looked over his shoulder to see his men release the prisoners.

"Lord Blackwood!" someone shouted over the sounds of battle. Tytos looked forward to see one of his men rushing to him, his sword red with Westerman blood. "We have secured Ser Edmure and are taking him back into Riverrun." Tytos nodded his head then.

"Good. Now escort the freed prisoners back as well, and make sure those damn fools don't let Lannister's men into the castle," he ordered. The man-at-arms bowed quickly before running to help his comrades.

As his men fought their enemy Tytos looked around to see if there was any sign of the Kingslayer. The disgrace of a Kingsguard knight had not been seen since Tytos decided to lead his sortie out to weaken the foe. As he began to urge his horse onwards a man-at-arms shouted at him in warning. Without thinking Tytos raised his sword to block the incoming blow that was aimed at him, and found himself face to face with the very man who had besieged Lord Tully's home.

"Kingslayer," he hissed in disgust as he pushed his sword forward to throw the man off balance. Lannister brought his sword back and raised it to block Tytos's own strikes. On his fourth slash Tytos found the Kingslayer ride his horse away from him and head in the direction of the Red Fork. "CRAVEN!" Tytos shouted as half a dozen of his mounted men gathered around him. "Let's go hunt a lion boys!" Tytos rode after his foe, his men beside him to prevent anyone from getting in his way. He thought through what he was going to do as he chased Lannister; from what he could see the Bolton men had attacked the western camp all along from the Tumblestone down to the Red Fork, meaning that there was no escape for the Kingslayer, so as long as he was careful Tytos could keep him from fighting his way to freedom. As much as he wants to kill the man Tytos knows that he has more worth alive than dead.

As he rode after the knight a group of Lannister pikemen rushed him and his men, aiming at their horses. Tytos swung his sword down onto the top of one pike and snapped off the head of the weapon while one of his men rammed his sword into the face of another pikeman. The cavalryman in front of him fell as his horse was skewered by three pikes while a fourth man slammed his pike into the fallen man's back. Tytos sliced open the throat of the pikeman who had attacked him before riding his horse into the pikeman who killed his cavalryman, trampling him into the earth, then he hacked his sword down into the shoulder of another, the blade slicing into his heart. Blood rushed after his blade as he tore his sword free before swinging it towards a pike that was aimed at his face, parrying it away. Two of his cavalrymen ran their swords through those men, giving Tytos a chance to look around the battlefield. As he did his horse neighed loudly before falling down; realising what was happening Tytos threw himself off from his mount and landed with a dull thud on his right side. He looked up and saw three enemy men-at-arms with crossbows that they were reloading.

"Fucking cowards," he muttered as he pushed himself up from the ground and charged into the men on foot, swinging his sword at the two stood next to each other, beheading them with the slash. The third crossbowman stared at him in shock before turning to run, only for an arrow to punch into the side of his neck. Tytos looked over his shoulder once he heard the sound of steel clashing steel and saw the Kingslayer fighting his four remaining cavalrymen. One toppled off of his horse minus his arm at the shoulder while another lost his sword-hand before having his belly opened, while the third parried Lannister's strikes as best as he could as the fourth was feathered with crossbow bolts. Three men charged at Tytos with their swords drawn, yelling their war cries. Tytos parried the first blow before kicking the man in the knee and hacking his neck in half, almost but not quite beheading him. The other two were more careful then, and took it in turns to strike out at him. Tytos sneered at the men, throwing insults at them to goad them into making an error. "Is that what your whore of a mother taught you?" he said to one of them.

"Shut yer fucking gob," the Westerman spat as he lunged at him. Tytos smirked as he stepped to the side and disembowelled him with one stroke of his blade. The final man wavered slightly before finding his courage and unleashing a flurry of attacks, one of which clipped Tytos's shoulder armour. Tytos grunted before thrusting with all of his strength into the man's chest; his armour was weak and did not halt the course of Tytos's blade. As the man gasped Tytos looked over his foe's shoulder to see the Kingslayer dismount his horse, the last of Tytos's guard dead.

Tytos drew his sword free from the man-at-arms and stepped away as the dead man dropped to the ground with a wet thump. All around the fighting continued, the men of the Westerlands fighting for their lives against vengeful Rivermen and battle-hungry Northmen. Tytos and Lannister circled each other for a moment, each getting the measure of the other. After a moment the Kingslayer struck out, lunging for Tytos who brought his sword up to block, only to find the strike was a feint; Lannister brought his sword back and slashed at his legs. Tytos stepped back as quickly as he could, but the Kingslayer's sword still struck his armoured shin hard enough to leave a bruise. Grunting in pain Tytos thrust his sword at Lannister's left arm, intending to distract him. His own trick did not work as he had planned as Lannister drew his dirk to block the blow.

"Bloody clever of you," he said as he spun away from him to put distance between them. As he faced Lannister he found the man had taken advantage and began to unleash a flurry of slashes at him. Tytos blocked what he could and let his breastplate take the rest; the blows dented his armour and one managed to slip under his sword-arm. Seeing his chance the Kingslayer slashed up into Tytos's upper arm, slicing into the mail that he wore. Lannister's sword was sharp and strong enough, Tytos realised when his arm was engulfed in agony. Not to let his foe have the advantage Tytos took his sword in his off-hand and thrust his blade into Lannister's left leg, aiming for behind his knee. The tip of his sword only met the armour, but it caught Lannister's attention long enough for Tytos to throw himself into the Kingslayer. Both men tumbled to the ground, their swords flying out of their hands.

"Blackwood shit!" Lannister cried out as Tytos raised his arm to punch him in the face. His attack never happened though as he felt pain in his thigh. He looked down and saw the Kingslayer's dirk which was now lodged into the back of his thigh. He felt his blood rushing out of his leg as Lannister pushed him off of him. Tytos grabbed hold of his leg and put as much pressure on it as he could, knowing that the dirk had gone far enough to nick the artery in his thigh. You golden haired bastard, he thought as he watched Lannister stand up, grabbing his sword. "Well, you won't be flying to your hall now will you?" he said with a grin. Tytos spat at the ground between them.

"If that's the best you've got then you should have been a fucking mummer," Tytos said through gritted teeth as he glared up at him. "You make enough japes to pass as one." The Kingslayer laughed as he stood ready to raise his sword.

As Tytos lay there, waiting for his death, an arrow flew past the Kingslayer's face by an inch. Lannister stepped back and looked south, where the arrow had come from. The Red Fork was just next to them, and on the opposite bank was a group of Northmen. At their head were four men; one was a dark haired youth with a bow, another an older man with greying hair, the third was a young man with auburn hair wearing steel plate and mail, and the fourth a dwarf who was held by the older man.

"KINGSLAYER!" the auburn haired man shouted. "LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS, OR I'LL TAKE YOUR BROTHER'S HEAD!" Tytos looked back at the Kingslayer whose emerald eyes were now wide with fear.

"TYRION!" he shouted. "I SWEAR ON THE GODS IF YOU HURT HIM THEN I'LL BUTCHER YOU STARK!" Tytos's eyes widened then; so this was the Heir to Winterfell, a young Northman with the Tully look?

"WE HAVE YOUR FATHER AS WELL LANNISTER!" the Stark heir bellowed back. Tytos bit back a laugh at the stupid look on Lannister's face.

"You are lying," he said quietly. "YOU ARE LYING!" Tytos looked down at the ground between them and saw a discarded sword within reach. He could grab it and attack the Kingslayer while his guard was down, but that would mean his death; he could feel his blood seeping between his fingers from his thigh. He chastised himself for being foolish, and laughed bitterly as he remembered himself berating Ser Edmure for his own folly.

"FATHER!" a voice brought him back to reality. When he looked up he saw Lucas running towards him with a mixture of Tully, Blackwood and Bolton men, as well as Karyl Vance and one of his own knights. The Northmen were now sweeping through the camp with relative ease, with only a few Lannister men putting up a fight. Tytos looked back to see Lannister turning to face Lucas, and his mind was made up then. With the last of his strength Tytos grabbed the sword close to him and stood up, roaring in pain as he felt his blood spraying out of his thigh. His roar drew the Kingslayer's attention, but as his foe turned to face him Tytos slashed his sword upwards with what little strength he had left, the blade tearing into his foe's right arm. Blood trailed behind the blade in an arc as the Kingslayer's sword flew away from him, his hand still gripping the hilt with half of his forearm still attached.

Lannister looked down the remaining half of his forearm, his face frozen in shock for a couple of moments, before he screamed out in pain. His scream was cut short however as Lucas bashed the pommel of his sword into the side of Lannister's head.

"Put him in irons and stop the bleeding," Tytos heard his second son order. He looked at his boy for a moment, letting the sword drop from his hand, before he gave him a weak smile. Then he toppled back. "No!" he heard Lucas yell. Tytos hit the earth beneath him, his body going cold as his blood flushed out of his thigh. A moment later Lucas was above him, looking down at him with worry. "Father?" he said, his voice sounding distant to Tytos.

"Lucas," he began. "Promise me you'll help Brynden with ruling Raventree. He'll need help to rule for a few more years yet. And make sure... make sure that he chooses a decent bride. Not a fucking Bracken though."

"I promise father," he heard Lucas say, his voice now a whisper to him.

"And tell your sister... tell her I'm sorry to leave her now," he said, his voice breaking as he thought of Bethany, his only daughter. "Tell her I'm sorry that I won't be... able to... to see her wed a man worthy of her. Look... look aft-" Tytos could not finish his sentence as he felt his heart stop beating, all the warmth leaving his body. The last thing that Tytos Blackwood heard before he took his last breath was his son Lucas crying in anguish.

Author's Note: Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Now I have given it some thought and after reading various comments I have made a decision on what path to take, but I'm gonna be a real bastard and not tell you. You're gonna have to wait a bit.

Ned and Jon will be back in the next chapter though, so I hope that gets you all happy. See ya next time.