A/N: This one gave me some difficulty. I wanted to capture the battle rather than hurrying things along. It was harder than expected so took a little extra time and the battle still isn't done. I'm still incorporating switching between POV's. I was tempted to keep editing (especially the magical stuff which felt clumsy to write... wolves in a city eek) but I'm not sure it would change much...

Chapter 79: Connington | Arya

Connington

Jon Connington's voice held out as he continued to shout commands. He knew he would be hoarse by the time the day was done. Breaching the gates was only the first step. He fought not to frown as the men cheered. Gaining access was not a triumph. They won no advantage until numbers favoured them within the city.

His thoughts were confirmed as the first wave of men entered through the broken gate. The width of the gates only allowed a restricted number to ride through at once. Connington had anticipated it, choosing the first men carefully. They were not the best fighting men but they did not lack for courage. The Golden Company were no ordinary sellswords and they did not back out in the face of death. Men continued to ride through the gates as stones were lobbed from the wall and the sound of steel on steel rang through the air.

Jon watched from a close vantage point, out of reach of the city defenders but poised to join the assault when the time was right. The archers targeted those on the wall when they came in sight but many managed to hide within the gatehouses. The first messenger rode up to him looking pale and shaken. A squire by all appearances, one with little experience of war but he delivered his message nonetheless despite being clearly shaken.

"My lord" the boy's voice shook slightly and he swallowed hard. Connington expected he was about to vomit. "The men in the city surrounded us when we passed through the gate. They killed them."

Connington nodded. "Go back inside and see how they fare now that they have faced more opponents."

For a moment the boy did not look like he had understood. As Connington predicted, he swayed in his saddle and threw up over the side. The contents of his stomach spilled over his arm and splattered against the legs of his horse as the animal shifted impatiently. The squire was still spluttering and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Connington set a cold gaze on him. We do not have time for this.

"I gave a command" he said. "Are you incapable?"

The boy swayed again and continued to look pale as milk but he nodded. "I will do as you bid me my lord." He hesitated a moment still and the warhorn from one of the other points of attack sounded. It was followed not long afterwards by the howling of wolves. Jon had seen the direwolf in action and for a moment felt a sense of grim satisfaction before he turned his impatience on the squire.

"Do not wait for my leave" Connington said abruptly. "When you get your commands obey them immediately."

The squire did not linger any longer. Jon watched him ride back into the city thinking back to when he was a boy. He and Rhaegar both squired together in King's Landing, the very city they now wished to take. He still remembered his own nerves during his first battle. He pushed the thought from his head. The squire had shown courage to return to the scene Jon could picture quite clearly. He might be a promising knight if he survives.

It was not to be. Connington recognised the next messenger as one of the more seasoned men. He approached Jon quickly with a respectful nod.

"The defenders at the gate are dead on their feet my lord. They look to be organising another sortie but we have them."

Jon expected this news. He did not bother to ask after the squire. The boy would be dead and if not, he would find him in the city. He called for his helm and shouted to the company around him.

"Form up!"

They promptly fell into formation and Jon loosened his sword in the scabbard with stiff, uncooperative fingers. He unsheathed it, raising it into the air and gave the shout to proceed.

"For Aegon!"

He heard them echo it behind him and spurred his horse towards the city. Arrows flew through the air on either side of him as he approached, ensuring the defenders did not manage to kill all who attempted to pass. Stones still tumbled from overhead crashing blindly. Most missed their targets but some landed on steel and flesh. Connington kept a sharp eye out as he passed through the wreckage of what was once the King's gate. He heard a cry as stone tumbled down behind him. He cursed and kept on moving.

The scene inside the gate was as he had pictured. Mayhaps it was better than he pictured. The ground inside the gate was strewn with bodies. Some fell from the wall. He saw them feathered with arrows. Others still met their end by sword or lance. The men Jon sent in first had been butchered. He scanned over them quickly in an attempt to count before giving it up and settling for the knowledge that they may be many but they were still lighter losses than expected.

The foes were engaged with the men already in the city. Connington noted that the gold cloaks were few. The men on the opposing side wore primarily Lannister colours. They received news to that effect beforehand but Connington needed to see it. More of their archers joined the fray now, ending those still appearing on the gatehouse walls. Jon saw men climb up into the gatehouses and soon no more attacks came from atop the city wall. The path was clear for the remainder of the men to enter the city.

He called out to his men. "Lances" and sped his horse past a trot and into a canter. They drew close but before they met the opponent he saw them break and try to run. They were outmatched and Jon knew they were aware of it. Those still standing their ground did not have a hope. Jon braced for impact but felt little of it as he rode down one man and his sword sheared off the arm of another. The lack of feeling in his arm dulled the pain he might have felt but it also impaired his accuracy.

He wheeled his horse around to see the ground turning even bloodier than it had been. Brown sludge made his horse almost slide where snow, blood and mud had mixed together. He shouted again and knew well enough to keep moving. Aegon must have sent another wave of men into the city. He saw them entering through the gate.

"With me" he shouted to those around him. The new men could finish the enemy. Those who had cut through needed to advance further. A spear thudded against his shield but the man who wielded it fell victim to another sword before Connington had his chance to meet the foe. He looked around him, seeing Visenya's hill on his left through the narrow vision of his eyeslit and urged his horse on along River Row.

The opposition seemed less than he might have expected as they headed towards the Mud Gate. He slowed his horse, letting the men straggling behind form up better. The ease of their path did not fool him. He knew the enemy must be prepared to defend strategically just as their attack was spread to maximise the impact. He heard the warhorns once again and knew that the rest of the men must be entering from the Gate of the Gods and the Iron Gate. Scenes such as that at the Kings Gate would be replicated there.

They spotted a formation of Lannister men awaiting them at the next gate. Too late a messenger arrived and Connington fell back to hear the tidings. The man looked grave and Jon wondered what could possibly have gone wrong in such a short time.

"What news" he prompted.

"The Gate of the Gods has been breached. Arya Stark gave her position of command to her uncle and advanced on the city."

Jon knew what came next. "Does the prince know?"

The man nodded. "Prince Aegon has joined the battle my lord."

Connington might have cursed but there was no point. He looked back and knew there was nothing to be done. Turning back was not an option. He gave the messenger a report to pass onto Aegon and returned to his men. Some had heard and he saw them look tense. He began to rally them to advance again.

"Proceed with the attack" he commanded. "Lances!"

As he watched the men surge forward, Connington knew he must clear the path and hope Aegon's guards might do their duty and keep the prince safe. His anger must wait until the battle was done.

Arya

Arya was not quite ready for what lay inside the broken Gate of the Gods. The men who made up her guard formed a wall in front of her but she still saw. Dead bodies were nothing new to her. She handled the dead in the House of Black and White but there was just so many. They covered the ground of the market square where Arya knew farmers once gathered to sell vegetables. She tried to see if she knew them but the helm restricted her view. She only barely heard Thoros speak to her over the continued clash of steel.

"We must keep moving Your Grace."

Arya knew he was right. She urged her horse into a trot and looked, just as Syrio had taught her to. The men in red and gold kept fighting but fear and fatigue showed on their faces. Arya kept her sword held tightly in her hand, the valyrian steel blade forged from Ice, and adjusted her shield. The sword did not feel as familiar as a bravo blade in her hand but it was right for this. She trained for this, her uncle had given in after he saw she would stay out of a fight but it did not come so easily as some of the other tactics she knew. The helm took some getting used to as did having a shield on one arm.

I still learned faster than the men.

Ser Brynden had told her so with pride. She pushed the memory from her head, knowing she needed to focus. None of the gold cloaks or Lannister men came close to her yet, she was too shielded for them to reach her but she needed to be ready. Her horse almost slipped and Arya guided the animal out of the sludge to more stable ground. Not that there was much stable ground.

As she moved beyond the carnage near the gates a man managed to break through to her crying "King's Landing!" Arya swung her sword and the valyrian steel sliced through his spear as though it was nothing. Her second swing took his arm off by the elbow and as her horse spun, knowing what to do seemingly with little instruction, the sword caught the man below his jaw. His blood sprayed across her breeches but she paid little attention to it.

More kept coming but Arya saw that her men (and Aegon's) held the advantage by numbers alone. More joined them with every minute that passed. A shout came to cut their way through and from the look of the banners flapping further up the road towards Cobbler's square, a number of their men had already done just that. Arrows whistled past her ear and she saw two gold cloaks fall. Another man was trampled under the hooves of her horse as she began to press forward.

She soon realised they knew who she was. Their attack became more desperate in trying to reach her. The man carrying her banner fell but another took it up in his place. She repeated the same phrase over in her head, fear cuts deeper than swords as her heart pounded in her chest. Calm descended over her suddenly as a warhorn sounded in the distance and the sounds and smell of the battle became sharper. Her vision was no longer restricted by a helm and she heard the panic as she approached, the blood stained snow crunching under her paws.

Cries of alarm filled the air and the stench of fear grew stronger as her brothers and sisters began to feed on the bodies littering the ground. Bones crunched as she took hold of a man, pulling him to the ground and shaking him. A voice cut across, pulling her away as she spun to avoid the sharp end of a weapon. They were slow, far too slow and she had hungered for too long.

"Your Grace" the voice called again.

Arya gasped as she left Nymeria to her next kill and felt an arm grasping hers. The Skagosi righted her in the saddle and she saw her guards had closed around her again. Her sword was thrust back into her hand. Thoros slashed with his own flaming weapon on her opposite side.

"You must be careful doing that" he warned. "You are defenceless when you are the wolf."

"I am not" Arya retorted. "Nymeria won't let anybody hurt me."

Thoros paused to deflect another but the interruption was short.

"That may be so" Thoros conceded "but how much of Nymeria remains when you take over?"

Arya knew what he meant. She looked to the other men. They watched her with wary expressions.

"No harm is to come to the wolves" she commanded.

Nymeria had not gone far but the presence of the wolves had struck fear into their foes. Many ran or yielded. She watched as the remainder were dealt with. Those hiding in the gatehouse gave up and a man paused by Arya's side, awaiting her communication.

"Tell Ser Brynden the enemy has surrendered this area to us." She hesitated, wanting to push on but knew she needed to show she knew what waited for them. "Tell him we are going to know what lies ahead of us before we ride into the city centre."

The man nodded. Arya did not wait after he left, looking at her surroundings as she urged her horse along the road. She saw dismay on the faces of her men and knew the question before they asked. The raven cawed above her and Arya made herself smile.

"I did not lie" she told them. "We will know what is ahead before we reach it."

They looked at her puzzled until she told them what she saw. Some doubted, she knew but as they passed the places she described and saw the damage the war within the city had inflicted doubt faded. Those who had ridden blindly ahead were engaged in fighting in Cobbler's square. Everything rushed together in a blur as Arya's reinforcements aided those who were struggling. The shouting continued.

"Winterfell!"

Arya looked around her as the enemy began to retreat and surrender once more. People hid inside their homes. When she dismounted to look around, Nymeria joined her. The faces looking down on her were filled with fear. Arya wanted to tell them they did not need to worry but when she began to speak they fled their windows.

She led her horse through the streets taking a brief respite. It seemed so long already but they weren't close to done yet. Arya knew patience. She trained in it. She launched herself back into the saddle and rode on through the streets. Men still ran at them as they advanced but their numbers were too few. Arya had her guards and Nymeria was the most deadly of all. Some of the smaller grey wolves joined her again when they closed in on the city centre.

The Great Sept of Baelor came into view on Arya's right as they reached the bottom of Visenya's Hill. The scene reminded her of how it all started. She heard Sansa's screams once more. She remembered everything from that day, the sights and sounds. The sept had recently come under assault. Arya saw it from the sky but being closer showed her more clearly the toll the fight between the Faith Militant and the city guards had taken.

Good she thought to herself looking at where pillars were barely holding on. I hope they have to tear it down.

The fighting became more frenzied again and Arya found herself pulling back to pass around the Guildhall of the Alchemists. I want to go to the Red Keep. That was where she would find Cersei and Ser Meryn. Her hate rose up inside her as she thought of Syrio. Look with your eyes. Quiet as a shadow. Quick as a snake. Arya remembered it all, just as clearly as she remembered Ser Meryn advancing on her dancing master.

She looked now at the opponents waiting for them, all formed up with one shouting commands. They were armed with lances, axes, spears and sword but Arya did not take note of that long, Her limited eyesight saw the white cloak hanging from the shoulders of the man in command. Which one is it? He wore steel from head to toe but Arya needed to know.

In the end it did not matter. The Dornish army advanced from the other direction and Arya knew their enemies were cornered. They knew it too. Some still tried to fight and died. Others tried to flee and they too died. Arya herself killed the men who managed to get past Nymeria and her guards. She was blood from wrist to shoulder and her shield became dented as she pushed free of her men to the man in white who had been forced to yield.

A woman stood over him barking questions. Arya dropped her shield, lifted the visor on her helm and moved quickly. She gripped the sword in her hand tightly, readying herself. She tried to remember what Ser Meryn looked like then decided it did not matter. She would know him when she saw him. The Dornish woman wielded a whip rather menacingly but the man in front of her did not cower. When Arya saw her more closely she realised who she was, not only from her look and her command but also from the distinctive shield she carried. Nym had described it.

This is Obara Sand.

Obara cracked the whip so that it caught the Kingsguard knight around his arm. As she yanked his sword, already on offer, fell from his hand.

"I do not need your permission to take your sword" she was saying.

Arya crept closer, quiet as a shadow but the Dornish soldiers saw her and Obara looked at her with cool appraisal.

"I seek Ser Meryn Trant" Arya said, licking her lips. "I owe him a debt."

Obara smiled and her eyes lingered on Arya's sword. "I see the debt you speak of but this is not him. This is Ser Balon Swann"

Arya wanted to argue but the knight lifted his helm and she saw it was the truth. "Where is he?" she demanded. "Tell me where I can find him."

The knight looked at her, resignation in his features. Nymeria stepped forward growling and he shrank back from the direwolf.

"He guards the Red Keep."

Arya did not wait any longer. She heard a cry behind her and knew the knight had met his end. She tried to push uncomfortable thoughts from her head. It was her father's voice she realised. We do not kill prisoners. He had yielded. He was an enemy though. He served Cersei and he did everything wrong thing she asked.

Sandor did too.

The reminder did not sit well with her. She expected her father might have let Ser Balon take the black. He might have helped Jon. She shook her head and looked around, shouting for her men. A messenger left, riding back towards the gate and Arya shook her head when asked if she had more to share.

"With me" she commanded the men around her. "We ride for the Red Keep."

Connington

Jon Connington soon realised why there were fewer soldiers than might be expected at the Mud Gate. The gate was open and he saw ships setting out to sea. They are fleeing. The most craven were gone but those who remained offered dogged resistance. A messenger arrived in the midst of the fighting, reporting that the Gate of the Gods was now secure. The Kings Gate held too and the prince had cut across to the Street of Steel.

"He is headed to the Great Sept my lord" the man offered.

Connington knew better. He hopes to intercept the Stark girl. He made a gesture to dismiss the messenger but the man was not yet done.

"We have reports the Dornish secured the Iron Gate. Their attack was not expected and they had little opposition. They are within the city under Lady Obara's command."

It was good news and bad news. The city would soon be overrun and success was a certainty. Casualties, however, were likely to be high with a Sand Snake in command. Connington did what needed to be done. Prince Oberyn's daughters went further than that. They needed to limit damage, maximise hostages for ransom and broker peace when done. He hid his unhappiness.

Aegon's fate weighed heavily on his mind. The warriors sons and poor fellows would not harm the prince. Connington was certain of that. They viewed Aegon as the rightful King. They chose him over Myrcella, that much they learned at Harrenhal and again from the Eunuch's letter, Connington clenched his fist at the thought of Varys.

I will deal with him.

He hoped that Aegon might reach the sept with little opposition. The prince's battle guard comprised hardened warriors. They would die before letting the enemy near Aegon and they would not die easily. For now though, Connington knew he must focus on the battle at hand.

His slow reflexes were becoming increasingly problematic and he held back to command his men. They did not question it even though his usual role would be to lead. Resentment boiled within him that it came to this, his body betraying him when he needed it most. As Hand, he had a right to hold back in a position of protection. It still hurt his pride but he would see Aegon on the throne.

The resistance at the gate did not last despite the determination of the Lannister men stationed there. Jon appointed men to guard the exit. It had not been easy so far but he knew the worst was yet to come. After questioning the prisoners taken at the gate, his expectations were confirmed. The Red Keep would be the most fortified and well guarded part of the city.

It did not dull the spirits of his men. He heard them talking with animation.

"We will finally set eyes on this throne we hear so much of."

Connington ignored them, giving the command to ride on. Men were stationed along the wall so he gave the command to approach the Keep via The Hook. The way was still blocked by men and they hacked, cut and slashed their way through the few who opposed them.

The ascent of Aegon's High Hill was made difficult with their enemies having the higher ground. They gave way, however, at the approach. They know they are done. Connington dismounted when he reached the drawbridge. It was still raised but it began to lower. He spoke to his men, warning them to be wary and removed his helm just for a moment. One glance at the Targaryen banner flapping beside him was all the distraction it took and the air was knocked out of him.

He heard the shouts and tried to warn them.

"Stay back!"

A/N 2: Apologies for leaving it there. I will show Aegon in the next chapter (still multiple POVs next chapter) and I'm thinking the next one might conclude the battle. We will see