Chapter Four: The Mustering of the Stag
Riverrun (Myrcella Baratheon)
Myrcella Baratheon, that was the name she chose for herself and it was what Jon would insist despite the rumors of how she was conceived. She hated her mother for it, but she hated her birth father even more so. Just thinking about it makes her blood boil. How could the uncle that she looked up to, a prideful knight of the Kingsguard, break the very Chasity vow that he swore to bed his very own sister and to conceive not one but three children. Jon's last words to her was to stay in Storm's End with Renly and to bide her time until King's Landing is taken, but being a ward in the Rock meant disobeying that very command. Thus, she chose to ride out to Riverrun instead, accompanying Arya Stark and her uncle Stannis in escorting the lifeless corpse of the late Eddard Stark to the northsmen in the Riverlands. She could see the remains of the once mighty siege armies littered around the keep of House Tully, hundreds if not thousands of bodies still lay in the pool of their own blood and a dozen more lay floating in the Red Fork. The stench of death was evident in the air, the smell of dried blood caused the atmosphere to turn foul, and the Silent Sisters of the Seven were busy tending to the wounded soldiers despite the colors and gathering up the dead.
She recalled strongly how their entourage was received by the northsmen. She stayed silent as her uncle did all the talking before Arya had a turn of a short reunion, but that very reunion was cut short by the loud wails of Lady Catelyn. A man almost twice the size of any man present beat his chest in fury and made promises of vengeance against his fallen friend. A bearded man bearing the insignia of the Karstarks clenched his fists and said nothing, but the fire in his eyes was enough. The other northern lords had different reactions, some had their heads bowed in solemn mourning, the others were pounding the ground with absolute fury. Who could blame them for their actions? If it was Jon showing up in a wooden cart with lifeless eyes, she would have cursed the very name of the Seven and the Old Gods. She had returned the Stark family ancestral sword to the new Lord of Winterfell before quietly slipping away. Mostly because she felt like an intruder by standing there while the northsmen paid their respects to their fallen kin. Now, she sat atop the western tower overlooking the road to Harrenhal watching the road for any signs of Jon's banner. She wasn't worried. Honestly. But the huge column of smoke and the vultures flying in circles had her heart wrenching for news, be it good or bad.
She was about to give up and return to the courtyard below when she saw them. The largest army the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen riding and marching down the long stretch of road, she beamed up proudly when she caught sight of Jon riding at the head of the army with a dozen lords arrayed to his left and right. She saw Raynald Westerling riding by Jon's side, a huge grin across his face as he held a spear aloft in his hands, and impaled on that very spear was the decapitated head of Ser Gregor Clegane, otherwise known as the Mountain. She had to smile at that. It was no small feat to beat that giant of a man, but to actually kill him, now that was a story she wanted to hear. Her eyes studied the other figures until she spotted Tytos Brax. Lord Brax. She remembered. He was a lord now ever since his father fell at Riverrun, killed by the Kingslayer. Upon hearing the loud cheers and hoots from below, she quickly tightened her quiver of arrows and strapped on her sword before climbing down the tower.
"White Wolf! White Wolf! White Wolf!" Chanted the northsmen as Jon Baratheon rode through the gates of Riverrun.
To put it simply. Jon was gobsmacked if not shocked by the sudden appearance of Myrcella, he rubbed his eyes and slapped himself to ensure himself that he wasn't hallucinating. Raynald and Tytos did not seem that surprised by her being here. "Stop gawking at me already." She grumbled. Jon closed his mouth and tried to look stern. "Hold your tongue before you lose it." She growled just as Jon opened his mouth to speak, mostly to chide her for disobeying orders. "After all the years we spent together at Casterly Rock, you should have realized by now that I do not let you do things on your own. You can frown and curse all you want brother but that ain't going to change a single thing, I'm not leaving even if you turn the entire army against me. You need me here at the front lines, and at the front is where I'll be." She ignored the skeptical looks from the northsmen. As a matter of fact, no men or women of the North has seen her in action so she decided to show them exactly what she's made of. "And don't you forget who's the better marksman here." She was about to continue when Jon raised his hand in surrender.
"Alright, you win." Jon sighed and rubbed his temple. He stood to his full height. "I'm giving you command of the levy archers from our own House. They belong to Uncle Renly. They're a little rusty and many of them are recently drafted and most had not even fought in a battle before. If you can train them to become as deadly as you are..." He gave her a small smile. "...maybe we can discuss something about you leading your own detachment of troops. That's only if you prove yourself to me."
Myrcella answered the challenge with a grin. "Give me six days and those levy archers will become the deadliest archers in your entire army, I swear this upon my entire collection of books." Jon held back a chuckle at her vow, even she resisted the urge to laugh. It was a dumb joke that they shared with each other when they were younger, she was about six when they came up with it. Without glancing anywhere, she pointed a finger towards a random northern knight from House Umber. "You. Gather up twenty good men and have them clear the bodies from the western ridge by nightfall. Once you're done with clearing the dead, set up some targets all across the ridge from left to right, I don't care how you put it or what armor you choose to give the dummies but I want them done." She narrowed her eyes as she whirled her head around. "What are you waiting for? My late father to rise from his grave? Get."
The knight immediately scrambled off while barking orders to his squire.
An awkward silence flooded the courtyard before Jon started to laugh. He was soon joined by the bulk of the Baratheon forces, especially those that knew how she ran things by now. Even her uncle Stannis managed to crack a small grin. It was a shame that her other uncle was stuck in Storm's End with the other half of the army, patiently waiting for the day to storm the capital from the north while the main army took it from the south. While on the way to Riverrun, totally out of curiosity Arya Stark had asked her the question that was on Stannis' mind; why did she choose to ride out with them instead of staying secured at Storm's End where she would be safe. She briefly explained that she hated and doubted the presence of the red woman, something which she shared in common with Davos Seaworth, Stannis' right hand man and loyal adviser. They both had doubts about the red woman's presence in the Baratheon camp. Not that she disrespected R'hllor or any of the followers of the lord of light. It was mainly due to the fact that the red woman took the religious fervor a little too far that it sickened her, preaching about her faith was one thing but she did not have to openly defy the other gods as false deities. And she would never forget how the red woman burned the statues of the Seven as an offering to R'hllor, causing shouts of blasphemy from the lords of the Reach.
That was what prompted her to leave the safety of Storm's End.
She was most probably safer in the company of a large host anyway.
And there was much more things she could do here. Her first task was to prove herself to her brother that she could lead and gain the right to sit on his war council, and then she would consider teaching her soon to be sister-in-law how to properly waltz with a blade as thin as a needle. Yes, that was the plan that she created in her mind as she moved away from the talks that were about to happen between Robb Stark and her brother. "Come on Ghost, let's leave your master to talk while we go and hunt." She whistled as the white direwolf trotted after her with its tail wagging so fast that it would have left a mark if someone got hit with it. Jon gave her a halfhearted glare. "Don't worry brother. I won't spoil him with treats." She promised before she winked. "Not!" She corrected before sprinting off with Ghost tagging along behind her.
Jon's yells of protest died the moment she slammed the door shut.
Castle Black (Eddison Tollett)
Taking the vow of the Night's Watch meant cutting all ties to family matters and taking your rightful place among the watchers on the Wall, that was what Eddison Tollett believed in when he was recruited into the Watch by Yoren. He wouldn't have left his family home in the Vale for the Night's Watch if he hadn't grown up in poverty despite coming from a lesser noble house sworn to House Royce of the Vale, his family were essentially living on the same level as peasants. But after swearing his oath and becoming a ranger, he was starting to have his own doubts of the values of the Watch. The once great illustrious order had fallen to a pale comparison to what it was like before, back when Bran the Builder first raised the Wall. A long time ago, serving the Watch meant a true honor and many sons of great noble houses would line up to swear the oath, but now the Watch had to rely on criminals and scumbags from the prisons in King's Landing. Edd sighed for the eighteenth time since his arrival.
"Hello." He heard the voice from a new recruit of the Watch. "Ser Alliser said I'm to be your new watch partner." He gave the owner of the voice a nod. "I should warn you. I don't see that well."
"Come stand by the fire." Edd replied gruffly, turning to face the real north. "It's warmer." He added after sensing the lad's hesitation.
"No, that's all right. I'm fine."
"You're not. You're freezing." Edd said pointedly. The new recruit reluctantly shuffled closer to the fire to keep warm. "You can't fight. You can't see. You're afraid of heights and almost everything else probably." He stated as he turned his weary gaze towards the recruit. "What are you doing here, Sam?"
Sam, as the recruit is now known looked back. "On the morning of my eighteenth nameday, my father came to me. 'You're almost a man now,' he said. 'But you're not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the Black, forsake all claim to your inheritance and start north. If you do not.' he said, 'we'll have a hunt and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die. Or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing will please me more.'" He quoted his father's parting words as Edd glanced at him in a mixture of horror. "Ser Alliser's going to make me fight tomorrow again, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is." Edd answered as Sam groaned.
"I'm not going to get any better, you know."
"Well..." Edd started to grin. "...you can't get any worse."
And with that said, the two started to laugh as a bond of friendship and brotherhood was forged atop the Wall that very night. The two were interrupted slightly by the arrival of Benjen Stark, the first ranger and the Lord Commander's trusted adviser and right hand man, the duo quickly stood to attention before the hulking man chuckled as he stood in between them.
"A fine night for a watch, don't you lads agree?" Benjen said as he stared across the frozen plains of the world beyond the Wall, he continued gazing as he spoke. "I'm leaving next morning. As the first ranger my job is out there...I swore a vow to the Watch and now my brother's dead and my nephew is leading the northsmen to fight for King Jon. I should be there with them. Fighting side by side with my fellow kinsmen. But an oath is an oath. Nothing I say or do can change it." He turned towards Sam. "Once I leave tomorrow, Ser Alliser is going to take charge. He hates me as much as I hate him. With me gone he has full reign over the recruits. I can't be around to protect you forever Tarly."
"I'll protect him when you're gone first ranger." Edd spoke up. "I'll defend him from those that want to hurt him. Like how you protected me when I first arrived."
"That's a good lad." Benjen replied as he returned his gaze towards the north. "Winter is truly coming. There's a shift in the air...I fear for what is to come."
"Whatever it is, we can face it." Edd said with firm determination.
"Nay we can't." Benjen's eyes narrowed slightly. "I fear that our enemies might not be wildlings after all...our real enemies brings with them winter and death. I've been on the Wall longer than either of you so mark my words when I say that the real war is between the living and the dead...and the dead are coming." His eyes scanned the horizon of the frozen forest, the same forest which had claimed the lives of a ranging party two weeks ago. No traces had been found. Not even the horses. "The Long Night is coming. And the dead comes with it."
"No one will believe that first ranger." Sam pointed out. "The southron lords believe it to be a legend."
"That's what I thought until I saw a wight with my own eyes."
"You saw one?" Edd interrupted in a disbelieving tone.
"Lord Commander Mormont has ordered the rangers that saw it to seal their lips, he didn't want the fresh recruits to panic and flee after hearing that a dead wight walked right into his room and made an attempt on his life if it wasn't for the quick thinking of Mormont's own steward. The rangers on watch rushed to the scene and I thrust my sword for a killing blow through the heart, and guess what, the wight just stood back up and pulled my blade out of its own chest as if it were nothing. Then in came Commander's steward, scalding his hand after throwing a torch at the wight causing it to burn to death. It gave a horrifying screech that left us a little hard of hearing for the next few hours." Benjen replied in a sharp tone that meant no nonsense. "Gendry I believe his name was. He hailed from King's Landing. A master blacksmith with his own trade secret. I thought him to be with the builders due to his talent as an armorer but the Commander saw something in him. Say as you like but the Old Bear's grooming that lad to be the next Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"He has...the charisma around him." Edd nodded in approval. "He has my support."
"He looks like the late King Robert, doesn't he?" Sam suddenly said.
"He does." Benjen said as a small smile played on his lips. "He's a bastard."
"Not anymore." Edd piped in with a small smirk. "He's our brother now."
Riverrun (Arya Stark)
"I was worried for you." Arya Stark admitted softly, cuddling close to her betrothed, her head leaning on his muscled-toned arms. "When you rode out..." She shivered and clutched his fingers. "...I was afraid...Afraid that you wouldn't return to my embrace. Then your good sister told me 'I've been worrying about Jon for years.' she said with that smile of hers. 'But he always comes back.'" She quoted the very words from Myrcella. Jon ran a hand through her hair and she moved her head, from his arm to his chest, she stared at him with those soft eyes of hers. "And she was right...but that was just the first battle out of the hundreds more to come. What if...what if you die...what if some stray arrow strike you down...I can't bare to lose you too!" Tears started sprinkling down her eyes.
"Dry your tears," Jon said warmly, pressing the sleeve of his tunic against the water droplets on her cheeks. "Sometimes a man has to make hard choices. Choices that might seem wrong to others but you'll believe it in the long run. I can sit here in Riverrun and order some noble lord to fight for me, but that won't gain the respect of the men. They need to see their leader, their commander, their king, they need to know that they're fighting and if necessary die in the name of the king." He smiled tenderly as Arya wiped away her fallen tears. She suddenly lurched herself at him, taking him by surprise.
Arya touched his hair lightly, sliding the black strands between her fingers as her mouth met his in a fiery passion. "Jon...make love to me.." She breathed out at last. She saw the hesitation in his eyes despite how much he wanted to do just that, she placed a finger on his lips. "Shh...hush now. You just lean back and let me do all the work." Slowly, but carefully, she began to undo his armor. It took a long time. All the while Jon sat there silently, watching her with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. When she finally unhooked the final piece of plate, she gave a feral grin like a predator stalking its prey. The laces were quickly undone by her swift fingers and it wasn't long before Jon was naked as the day he was born. "Your turn, white wolf." She whispered into his ear, breathing into his neck as she did.
Jon's fingers were rough yet strangely tender. He removed her tunic, carefully while Arya stood unmoving, a gleam in her eyes and staring at his member with lust. When he bared her small breasts, she shivered slightly at the cold but quickly regained her composure. He watched as she kicked off her boots before yanking down her own breeches. And now she was standing there, completely in the nude, her young slender body inviting him for the touch. He looked at her and she nodded. He ran a hand gently down her waist while kissing passionately, he tried not to gulp when he felt her fingers going straight down. His hand slowly made their way to caressed her breast. He stopped then.
"There is no going back after this..." Jon said, and Arya knew it was a final warning.
She took his hand and moved it down to the wetness between her thighs. "I don't fucking care." She whispered as she put his finger inside her.
Riverrun (Robb Stark)
It seemed a thousand years ago that Robb Stark last stepped into the great halls of Riverrun, and he had not a single memory of even visiting the place except for the pillars where he used to play. And it was passing by the pillars that he entered the great hall, though he wore plate and mail in place of swaddling clothes. He took his seat by his mother's side, facing the high seat of the Tullys where his Uncle Edmure and Brynden Blackfish had taken, and the Tully bannermen arrayed to right and left and along the side tables. Word of the great victory at Riverrun had spread to the fugitive lords of the Trident, drawing them back. Lord Tytos Blackwood came in, along with his sons, Brynden and Lucas, and they brought a Darry, Ser Raymun's son, a lad no older than Arya. Lord Janos Bracken arrived from the ruins of Stone Hedge, glowering and blustering, and took a seat as far from Tytos as the tables would permit.
The northern lords sat opposite. They were fewer in numbers as compared to the rest. The Greatjon sat at Robb's left hand, and then Theon Greyjoy, Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont were to the right of Catelyn. Lord Rickard Karstark, took his seat beaming with pride at his two sons, his huge smile could only rival that of Lord Gregor Forrester, both whom had sons sworn into the service of the King. The southron lords mostly stood protectively around their liege. They were the larger party as compared to the riverlords. Stannis Baratheon, ever stoic and cautious of his surroundings stood to the left of his nephew, a frown upon his face and his eyes ever weary. Lord Selwyn of Tarth, took his seat like a man in his nightmare, his eyes hallowed from grief. Sixty of his finest knights had died trying to storm Harrenhal and there had been no word of his daughter, Brienne whom had led Tarth spears to break the siege at Riverrun. Ser Garlan Tyrell and his brother, Loras stood behind their liege lord, they were representing not only their family but the entire Reach just by attending the council. The might of the Tyrell forces were still camped at Storm's End under the command of Renly Baratheon.
And sitting with a thoughtful gaze was Jon Baratheon, the rightful heir and the true claimant of the Iron Throne. His direwolf and familiar, Ghost laid at his feet. His sister, the Princess Myrcella sat with a steely gaze as she studied the men around her. Standing behind them are; Ser Raynald Westerling of the Crag. Lord Tytos Brax of Hornvale. Ser Rodrik Forrester of Ironrath, the latter having sworn his sword to Jon's service as a battle companion earlier. Ryon Forrester, a boy of seven and the chosen squire of Jon upon Myrcella's opinion eagerly waited by the doors. Arya Stark was denied access to the council by her mother but who could see her small size sitting next to Ghost among the crowd of men. Not even Jon himself was aware that his betrothed was hiding beneath his feet. If anyone noticed her small frame, they did not question nor ask.
There were countless of argument going on that it raged into the night. Each lord had a right to speak, and speak they did...and shout, and curse, jesting each other, slamming tankards on the table, threatening to march home and forsake their part in this war. Robb sat and listened to it all. Roose Bolton retainers still held the Twins and a small force of outriders from House Mallister was on the way to reinforce them. The Kingslayer sits in the dungeon beneath Riverrun, his sword arm missing. Lord Tywin's army was still at Oxcross with no intention to break camp. Ser Gregor Clegane lies slain on the field. And there was the troubling reports of Balon Greyjoy gearing up for a full scale invasion on the North, a huge armada of galleys and longships could be seen off the coast of the Crag according to Raynald's report.
Many of the lords bannermen wanted to march on King's Landing at once, to meet the traitors in battle and put an end to the false king. Yet there were some who counseled patience. But the southron lords and the Tyrell brothers would have none of it. Already an alliance had been formed between the northsmen and the riverlords, and both Robb and Edmure had sworn their fealty to Jon upon his arrival at Riverrun. Five of the seven great houses are now behind Jon. Six, if the Arryns bestir themselves, yet there have been rumors of civil unrest in the Eyrie. Most of the northsmen tend to agree with the southron lords that the time for peace is nothing but a summer night's dream, Blackwood and Bracken seemed to agree despite the animosity between their houses. It was then Catelyn spoke much to Robb's dismay.
"Why not a peace?" She asked.
The lords looked at her in disbelief. "Mother, they murdered my lord father, your husband." Robb said grimly. He unsheathed his longsword and hacked it into the table before, the steel cutting through the rough wood so loud that it echoed around the hall. "This is the only peace I have for the cravens."
The Greatjon bellowed his approval, and other men added their voices, shouting and drawing swords or pounding their fists on the table. "Would you have us break the oath we swore to King Robert, my lady?" Asked Gregor Forrester, his arms arrayed to his left and right. "We swore a vow that we would serve the Stags, and now the true heir sits before us and you would deny us that honor at fighting by His Grace's side?" There were deep rumbles of agreement from the northsmen and a few from the riverlords. "Do you think that we do not wish for peace, my lady? We do. Old Gods curse me, I want it more than you would ever think of. You have no idea how I want to return home into the loving embrace of my beloved wife and see the faces of my daughter and son again. But alas, I cannot. Not while the false king still draws breath. And I will not return home until I pierce my sword into the heart of the false king and the cravens that serve him!" He roared.
"AYE!" Came the roar from the northsmen.
"We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my husband's freedom. And that one is done, and the other is beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my eldest daughter back. I want my children safe. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband." Catelyn argued causing Robb to slam his head on the table.
"Peace..." Brynden Blackfish said with a scoff. "Peace is sweet, my lady...but what good would it be when the false king calls for our heads."
"What did two hundred of our men died for, if we are to return to Highgarden with nothing but their bones?" Asked Garlan Tyrell. "I fought in King's Landing to save the late Lord Eddard. And his last words clearly meant that he would have fought beside His Grace if he was still alive, are you going to throw away Lord Eddard's word of honor?" There were then shouts of approval and agreement.
"MY LORDS!" Cried a loud voice that silenced the hall. Robb blinked twice and even Jon looked gobsmacked at the sight of Arya Stark crawling out from beneath the table. Well, from Jon's table.
"I was there when my lord father breathed his last. I was there when he looked me in the eye and swore that he would have fought beside my future husband, be it victory or death. He would have led the entire North into the heart of King's Landing if need be. And if he were alive, he would have kicked down the walls of Casterly Rock if His Grace commands him to." She spoke as all eyes turned to her. Ghost and Grey Wind came trotting to her side along with Myrcella Baratheon. The Princess gave her a curt nod. She allowed herself to smirk as she addressed the crowd once more. "Aye, there would certainly be death if we choose to fight, but if you were to sue for peace only to die in your bed many years from now...would you pray to the Seven and the Old Gods for one chance, just one chance to come back to this time and show the damned cravens how real soldiers fight!"
"AYE!" Chorused the men, and this time they were joined by the others.
Robb couldn't help but grin like a Cheshire at his sister's proclamation. "The White Wolf!" He roared, which was soon taken up by the other lords.
"White Wolf!"
"White Wolf!"
"WHITE WOLF!"
After the cheers and chanting had died down, Jon stood to his full height and leaned across the table as he gazed into the eyes of every single person present in the great hall. Robb couldn't help but feel a sense of pride if not respect for the boy standing before him, it was as if Robert Baratheon was back in his prime but with a little mixture of Tywin Lannister and his own lord father reincarnated into the very soul of Jon. The posture was a Stark through and through, the eyes were those of a Baratheon and the brains are those of a prideful Lannister. Jon had admitted to Robb when he visited Winterfell a few months ago that Myrcella was the better strategist than he was, and Robb had to agree. He had seen for himself just how cunning the young princess could be. Pretending to be an innocent little girl upon her arrival at Riverrun, while slowly picking out the best fighters to serve in her brother's guard as battle companions or sworn swords. Already the Forresters and Karstarks had two of their own kin under Jon's employ respectively, and it wouldn't be long before the other lords start throwing their sons.
"Jon...aren't you forgetting something?" Robb heard the voice of the princess as she elbowed her older brother in the ribs, her head inclining towards the exit. "The swearing ceremony?" He remembered now. In order to fight as the sworn swords of the King, one has to swear an oath of fealty to no other but Jon. "Your squire is still waiting outside...braving the cold wind." He raised a single eyebrow at Jon's frantic look as he barked for Ser Barristan to allow the child entry to the great hall. He shared a glance with Theon before rising to his feet, the northsmen followed suit before the riverlords rose to their feet as well as a sign of acknowledgment. He couldn't help but pity the young lad as he entered, escorted by the most famed swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, garbed in coat and mail bearing the sigil of Ironrath.
It must have been intimating stepping into a room filled to the brink to become the center of attention, that was exactly how Ryon Forrester felt as he came to a halt before the King. The boy swallowed his fears before dropping to a knee, his head bowed and his eyes lowered as the Baratheon king hovered before him with a longsword stabbed to the ground. "I, Ryon of House Forrester, fourth-born son of Gregor Forrester, Lord of Ironrath...hereby pledge my fealty to Jon of the House Baratheon, the true heir of the Iron Throne and the rightful king. I offer you my service, Your Grace." For a boy of seven, Robb had to concede defeat and admit that the lad had courage despite stuttering a little in the middle of his oath. It takes gut to speak in the presence of a dozen lords. And that boy sure has a lot of 'em.
All eyes watched as Jon gently grasped the boy's arm and pulled him up. "And gladly. I accept it. You shall be Ryon, Esquire of House Baratheon." He announced for the entire hall to hear. "Let this day be known that Ryon of House Forrester will serve at my side as my personal squire, he will carry my standard on the field of battle and is hereby granted access to all war councils." The northsmen hollered their approval as Ryon beamed with pride for being accepted into the King's service. Small polite applause came from the southron and riverlords.
The doors opened once more, this time with much force as Ser Arys Oakheart burst in.
"A raven, Your Grace! From Lord Tywin! There's been discord in the Lannister camp! Several noble houses and landed knights have turned traitor, they torched the food stores and stole all the horses in the dead of the night! They're coming, Your Grace!" The young Kingsguard cried, his face drenched in sweat from sprinting across Riverrun. "Marbrand. Hawthorne. Lorch. Payne. Lefford. Spicer. Nearly thirty thousand strong from the report."
A deathly silence filled the hall as all eyes turned towards the only man they all trust.
Robb turned his gaze to his old friend and saw the grim look in his eyes. "Then they leave us no choice but to meet them in combat." Jon declared as he stood to his full height looking the very bit of how a future king should look, he turned his gaze towards the Lord of Winterfell and Edmure Tully.
"Muster your banners." It wasn't a request. It was a command.
Robb didn't need to be told twice as he signaled his bannermen to assemble their men, and presently the trumpets rang throughout Riverrun and were answered by many others in the camps outside; but their voices no longer sounded clear and brave as they had seemed to Robb the night before. Dull they sounded. As knights rushed to their horses and the soldiers went into a marching formation, the Lord of Winterfell started to understand the horrors of war. He now knew why his father hated riding out to fight.
So it was that amid a gathering gloom that the northsmen assembled, Jon atop his massive steed and Ghost at his side, ready to lead all his bannermen and allies out of Riverrun. Hearts were heavy and many had second thoughts of leaving a secured zone. But the northsmen were a stern people, loyal to their liege lord until the end of times. He had bid his mother and sister farewell as he saddled up his horse. A brief exchange from the princess made him swear to keep Jon in his sight. Lady Catelyn would stay for a few days before being escorted home to Winterfell. Arya and Myrcella will stay in the safety of Riverrun with at least a thousand men sworn to House Baratheon.
There on the vast fields beside the noisy river marshaled the largest army the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen, seventy three thousand men fully armed to the teeth. A single trumpet sounded. Jon raised his hand, and then silently the great host began to move. Foremost went twelve of the king's household-men, knights of renown. Then the king followed with Stannis on his right and little Ryon on his left, the latter carrying the king's standard.. He had said farewell to Arya and Myrcella in the great hall, and their short reunion was bittersweet; but now he turned his mind to the road that lay ahead. Behind him was Ser Barristan and Ser Arys with the other sworn swords of the king, and behind them again were twelve more of the king's household. They passed down the long ranks of waiting men with stern and unmoved faces.
"Now is the hour. Men of the North!" Robb bellowed, spurring his horse in a circle as he rounded on the massive host of northsmen. "Oaths you have taken. Now, fulfill them all! To lord and land!" And with that said, he slapped the reins of his horse to catch up with Jon's company of men.
The loyalist faction of House Baratheon is marching to war.
Eyrie (Yohn Royce)
Lord Yohn Royce thought long and hard about what he was about to do. He had always been skeptical about his former liege lord's death, it was rumored that the late Jon Arryn had passed from illness back in the capital but he had his own doubts but never acting on it. That was until a raven arrived bearing the insignia of Lord Tywin Lannister. Inside the missive was a detailed letter that revealed the unusual relationship between the Lady Lysa and Petyr Baelish, putting two on two was simple after reading the note. The doubt that he had once harbored deep within his heart started to resurface and it was clear that Lady Lysa was unfit to rule the Vale and it was up to him and the other lord bannermen to seize power and join in the war effort on the side of the true king. They moved in the dead of the night and took young Robin from his chamber by force, killing a few guards that were actually sellswords hired by Petyr to protect a dead secret. Giving a slight nod to Uthor Tollett, one of his vassals and the Lord of the Grey Glen, the doors swung open to the High Hall of the Eyrie where Lady Lysa sat atop the high seat.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Lysa Arryn demanded, eying the Lord of Runestone with distaste.
"Troubling news, my lady." Yohn spoke gruffly, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "A raven arrived earlier this morning at the Bloody Gate bearing the insignia of Lord Tywin, and what he wrote had many of our hearts beating in confusion." He watched as Lysa reeled back in horror. "He clearly states in his letter that you conspired with Petyr Baelish to poison and eventually murder our liege lord, the late Jon Arryn. If you had been careful in your plot, I would have refused to believe Lord Tywin's claim but when our coffers turned out empty the last time I checked, I begin to suspect that Lord Tywin is telling the truth. And you, my lady, is henceforth declared unfit to rule."
"Lies! This is a conspiracy to frame me!" Lysa cried with a look of outrage. "Guards! Seize him!"
"Draw your swords and you're dead men." Declared Horton Redfort, the Lord of Redfort. His hand reached for his sword, and when he did so too did the others that came with Yohn Royce.
The guards of the Eyrie hesitated.
"You traitors!" Lysa screeched as she stood to her feet. "I am the Lady Regent of this House, and thus I am your overlord and I command you to seize the traitors!" At this command, Ser Lyn Corbray drew his blade and charged towards the rebel lords only to be back handed by a fuming Lord of Runestone.
"ENOUGH!" Yohn roared, silencing the entire hall. "This lady, came into the Vale as a lovely bride, and there conspired to murder our beloved lord, Jon Arryn." He stated, pointing an accusing finger towards Lysa. "And now she sits in the high seat and refuses to answer the true king's call to arms, if our liege lord was alive, he would have answered the call to King Robert's son like he did during the rebellion against the Mad King." He then gestured his hand towards the door behind him. "And now, the largest army the realm has ever seen is mustering at Riverrun to back the claim of the true heir of the Iron Throne whilst we sit here and wait?! I think not! We belong down there. Fighting in the name of the Vale." There were nods and murmurs of agreement from the various soldiers, including those that stood beside Lady Lysa.
"What shall we do with Lady Lysa, my lord." Asked one of the soldiers.
"Escort Lady Lysa to her chambers and keep her there under guard." Lysa watched in horror as her own men turned against her, her people, her handmaidens, every single living person in the room had turned against her to side with Lord Royce. She screamed and kicked as her own guards dragged her out of the High Hall, her cries of outrage did not seem to cease even after the guards dragged her up the stairwell and away from sight. The Lord of Runestone soon found every eye tracking his movement, every single knight and lord of the Vale are trusting him to make the right decision. "The Vale has stood by Robert Baratheon when he called the banners. Many of us had bled on the fields for the late King Baratheon. And once again, a young Baratheon calls his banners and the Wolf and Stag has answered his call, with the Rose joining the flock." He stood to his full height.
"My lords, the die is cast. We ride for the riverlands in the name of Jon Baratheon, the rightful king."
Oxcross (Tywin Lannister)
The flames have died down after swords were drawn among the westerlords and a fight broke out between several great and noble houses, the landed knights took sides and those that chose the Iron Throne rode out with the traitors the day before. Those that sided with the Old Lion licked their wounds and mourned their losses. It was so sudden and totally out of the blue. Not even Tywin Lannister anticipated this treasonous attack against kinsmen. Reginald Lannister. Amory Lorch. Damon Marbrand. Rolph Spicer. Leo Lefford. All members of his war council. Reginald had started accusing Tywin of siding with the rebels and declared for all loyal to King Joffrey to stand with him, nearly thirty thousand men went over including several of Tywin's own household-men. Swords and spears were drawn as both sides clashed. Those loyal to the Iron Throne and those loyal to House Lannister.
As the uprising was somewhat a surprise, many of Tywin's men were caught unaware by the sudden betrayal and many more had died in their sleep when the traitors torched the tents. As battle raged across Oxcross, Rolph Spicer ordered his men to torch the food stores which divided Tywin's men between pursuing the traitors or saving their supplies. Tywin ordered his men to stand down and fight the flames as the traitors left the tent with nearly all the horses. The short skirmish had taken its toll and the once great host of the Westerlands have been broken down. Lord Gawen Westerling rode out from the Crag with his five thousand reserve when he saw smoke and fire rising from the camp. On Tywin's orders, Gawen had his lady wife under house arrest for fear that she would betray them to her brother, Rolph. The vassal lords of House Lannister that sided with Tywin were firm supporters of Jon's claim to the Iron Throne but refused to act in fear of retribution from the others, but now Tywin knew he was right to trust the few lords that he had spoken with.
"What are our losses." Tywin asked, walking past rows and rows of charred corpses and tents.
"Nearly six hundred dead, not counting those that died in the flames." Ser Flement Brax replied.
"Our food? Horses?"
"They torched our food stores, not a single piece of bread survived the flames." Kevan Lannister reported as he walked alongside his brother to survey the aftermath of the short skirmish between the westerlords. "They took all our horses and killed those that they couldn't take with them. I have never seen such treachery since the time with the Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion."
"Someone must have told them of my intentions to support Jon." Tywin said through gritted teeth as he turned around to face Flement. "I don't care if you have to hang a hundred men. Someone has betrayed me and I want him found. I want the truth by nightfall." He watched as Flement marched off to obey his orders. "Get the remaining men into marching formation at dusk." He said to his brother and pushed past him, not waiting for a response. He will not let this treachery slide from the books. His only hope is to march towards the capital and hopefully link up his remaining forces with his grandson, and together they will show his traitor daughter and that false king how real Lannisters fight.
"On to King's Landing." He growled darkly.
He will not back down. A Lannister never backs down.
Author's Note: I apologize for the long wait. I had a lot of school events those past months and wasn't able to update promptly as before. The story will be getting slower updates as of this moment, but rest assured, I have the beginning of the next chapter already filled up. And it's also mostly due to the fact that Season 6 of Game of Thrones is soon upon us and I am dying to find out the one truth that I've been trying to learn since reading the first book and watching the first episode.
Is Jon Snow coming back from the dead? The Seven Kingdoms can go to the seven hells for all I care. I only care about Snow. Will he rise up from the ashes as a Targaryen like many people believe. Or will he rise from his slumber with the ancient magic of the Red God to be declared a Stark. Either way, he's free from his oath as a crow and free to do as he wills. Hope he kicks Ramsay out of Winterfell while he's at it.