*Once more, I used the 'A New Map of Westeros' from Wordpress in all geographic and cartographic matters.


299 AC

Robb Stark

He had hoped that he could have taken Harrenhal by surprise, or at least, without notice. Their most accurate scouts had reported around eight thousand troops, with Lord Andros of House Brax being appointed Castellan of Harrenhal.

Of course his appointment was unlawful, only the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, the King, or Lady Whent could have appointed one, but obviously Tywin Lannister did not care for such things. He himself took roughly thirteen thousand Northmen, along with most of the Rivermen as well, numbering around two to two-and-a-half thousand strong.

He force was nearly double the size of the Westermen, but…he still was at a disadvantage. Harren Hoare was not an idiot when he designed his castle. It sat right next to the Gods Eye, meaning that any attacking forces could only assault from pre-appointed avenues of approach. Additionally, despite its ruinous state, it had still stood for nigh on three centuries now, the walls, while crumbling at the top, were still stout the lower you went.

Robb had left Lord Umber and Lady Mormont along with others with his brother, with himself, he took Lords Bolton and Glover, as well as a number of vassal houses and masterly houses.

Though he was not responsible for the Westermen reinforcements, Smalljon Umber was the cause of their expedited and rapid march to Harrenhal. With the original garrison, coupled with the relief force, Harrenhal now sported close to ten thousand men. Many of them trained specifically for siege defense and other such warfare.

This was not going to be an easy battle.

But it was necessary, nonetheless. For as long as Tywin Lannister was able to hold onto the ruined castle, neither the North, nor the other forces of the Iron Throne could hope to retake the kingdom.

Further, with all routes between the Riverlands and the Crownlands being cut off, the Capital needed to resort to food from the Crownlands, and a small trickle from the Reach. He had received word that the Reach had recently just fell into a civil war amongst itself.

Harrenhal needed to fall to his forces.

This entire campaign, the entire war mayhap, rested on the fate of Harrenhal. It was just a castle, but the ramifications of its fate, even he was not fool enough to not see them.


He had made his main encampment just north of the small ford that ran westward into the Gods Eye, just north of Harrenhal. He sent a small party of about two hundred riders southeast, to the ruins of Whitewalls to ensure no Westermen forces would be lying in wait, to flank them. Another similar sized force was sent west, along the northern coast of the Gods Eye to ensure the same safety.

In the meantime, he had the combined leadership of the forces meet in the command tent of the camp.

To the immediate right of him stood Lord Galbart Glover. He was a dependable man and of the two, primary, Northern lords with him, the more trusted of the two. To the right of Lord Glover was Lord Roose Bolton. The lesser trusted man of the two. To the right of Lord Bolton stood a menagerie of lesser Northern lords and masters. Donnel Burley, Ronnel Stout, and Gryff Whitehill being the notable members.

To the left of Robb stood the nominal head of the Rivermen force, Ser Stevron Frey, along with the true military commander of the Rivermen, Ser Imry Erenford. To the left of Ser Imry were more Riverlords including Lord William Mooton, Ser Damon Roote, second cousin to young Lord Lucas Roote, Ser Quincy Cox, and the much loved by the troops and smallfolk, Ser Jeremy Flogg.

He began. "Lords and knights, we will soon embark on one of the great battles of the age. Let us discuss our possibilities." With a nod of determination, the lords and knights around the table, including himself, sat in chairs and stools around the table, with a map of the surrounding area atop it.

"Lord Robb?" Lord Glover asked. Robb simply waved him through.

"My lords." Lord Glover began. "By the word of our scouts and spies inside the fortress, we outnumbered the enemy force by roughly half. However, due to the consequences of the recent action at Lychester, the enemy has been able to be reinforced with another thousand or so troops-"

"You mean through the fault of one of your own?" A Riverman knight cut in. Lord Glover glared at him, though he couldn't refute that Smalljon Umber had made their position more delicate. His only hope was that his counterpart Lord Umber, well…he knew that he'd put his son and heir in his place.

"Peace." Robb interjected. "What has happened, happened. We cannot change the past, so let us look to the future. Lord Glover?"

"Thank you mi' lord. Regardless, we still outnumber the enemy by more than a few thousand. Our outriders have not reported any waiting Westermen or reinforcements."

"Thank you my lord." He turned his attention to the gathered. "Ideas?"

Lord Bolton spoke first. It took all of his will to not grimace as the Dread Lord peered into his eyes with his own lifeless ones. His only conciliation was that the other lords and knights appeared to be equally put off by the quiet blood lord.

"We should set siege to them. They are cut off from the south by the Gods Eye. To the east is only a couple of dozen leagues before the Narrow Sea, leaving only allied Rivermen there. We are to the north, and though the main Westermen force is far to the west, large and numerous Northern and Rivermen raiding parties ride. We are in an enviable position, let us sit and starve them out."

"The Lord of Bolton makes good points my lords, I say we maintain, and strengthen, our current position." Ser Jeremy Flogg commented.

"Craven!" Lord Mooton yelled out. "Those bastards have invaded our home! I say we take them on the morrow! Before they've truly awoken!"

"Have you forgotten the large concentration of crossbows and spears they have my lord?" Ser Jeremy testily challenged.

"Neither do we have any siege weapons built yet." Ser Imry interjected.

"But we must do something. We cannot wait for too long." Said Ser Stevron.

Robb internally grimaced. He was much more open to the advice of Lord Bolton, but Robb knew that time was also not on their side. If the capital, and the Crownlands, were not relieved soon, then they would be at risk at starving.

Ser Stevron looked to his lawful vassal, Ser Imry, who nodded at him, before he turned his attention to the greater group. "My lords, I fear that despite the wisdom of Lord Bolton's words, we simply do not have the time to set a siege that may last for fortnights, if not many moons. Whether or not we like it, we must make an assault soon."

Robb silently considered the plan. Ser Stevron was a man he felt would be a good future lord. He had none of the rudeness of his lord father, and he appeared to actually make an attempt at bettering the relations between House Frey, and other Riverlords. He was not very military minded, but he was open to listening to others. Robb thought that if he was wise enough to listen to his vassal Ser Imry, he'd have a long, successful lordship.

"I am still in agreement with Lord Bolton, we can save men, and weaken the enemy. Let us set our siege lines here and wait them out." Ser Jeremy nearly begged.

"I am in agreement with Lord Bolton." Robb spoke for the first time. "Even though time is not on our side, we have more than those in Harrenhal. We can still weaken them by a little."

Lord Mooton gave him an angry look. "Surely it's easy for the Young Wolf to say, without his own castle burning!"

Before he could respond, Ser Jeremy came to his defense. "And yours is?"

The remaining words were left unspoken. Maidenpool was amongst the eastern-most castles in the Riverlands. Far from the invasion of the Westermen.

Lord Mooton began to spew with rage. Ser Stevron cut in. "Lord Robb, apologies, but as Rivermen, we cannot be seen as to be doing nothing."

And finally, the greatest weakness to their forces reared its great head. Since he marched south, and relieved the home of House Blackwood, most of the Riverlords had followed his lead in his decisions. He had the largest host after all and was able to form them into a cohesive force.

However, they owed him no fealty. No Riverman had sworn to him, and unless their former oaths were forgotten, they couldn't. For all practical purposes, the Riverlords were still independent of any of his orders. He simply could not order them around.

Robb met the eyes of Ser Stevron, holding a silent conversation between them. It was finally broken by himself.

"Very well. Tonight, I shall order the Northern host to begin the construction of siege ladders, they will not have rest tonight." The Riverlords looked placated at this. "But-" They turned once more. "-I will not have a Northerner fall for this plan. On the morrow, you may assault the castle. Target the northern gatehouse. If you take it, I will order my host to charge in. However until the gate is open, I will not have a Northman assault the walls."

Lords Bolton and Glover, as well as the other Northmen appeared to nod in agreement at this.

The Rivermen looked amongst each other worriedly. Ser Imry broke the silence. "But we have your word, that if we take the gate, you'll join the fight?"

"Of course, you have my word." The Riverlords again nodded in relief. The word from the son of Ned Stark was enough for them.


Thousands of his men stayed up overnight, hueing trees to build siege ladders, the only siege weapon that could be built in time.

Just about an hour before the sun rose, the Rivermen launched their assault. They were able to approach the castle, but within about fifty to a hundred paces, sentries spotted them and rang alarm bells.

Lucas Blackwood and Sers Cleos and Lyonel Frey were among the men of the very first siege ladder to be raised against the walls of Harrenhal. Ser Imry was close behind in another group.

And so, the Siege of Harrenhal began.

From his position, Robb could see all. The Lannisters had ten thousand men, aye, but two thousand, the Rivermen, was still a large number to throw at a single place on the wall. An hour after the sun rose, the Rivermen had finally established a small safe head on the walls, for their ladders to reach without harm.

But the day was still in the balance. Unlike the Westermen, whom were being cut down, the Rivermen did not have many reinforcements. While those of the Rivers took many down with them, there always seemed to be another to take their place. And…their Riverlord allies did not seem to be anywhere close to entering the gatehouse any time soon.

But Robb was able to witness the true catalyst for the failure of the initial assault.

Ser Jeremy Flogg was reputed to be a man beloved by the Riverlands. A knight from a minor house, Ser Jeremy apparently had great relations with the smallfolk and the men-at-arms. He was among the free riders that first tried to defend against the Westermen in the west, during Tywin Lannister's initial invasion. Having been in the opening attack, his presence revitalized the Rivermen for every hour they held the ladders.

But the chaos of battle is a dance with no partners. The tune does not follow any man's wishes and luck is just as important as skill.

And on the first day of the Siege of Harrenhal, Ser Jeremy Flogg did not have luck on his side.

It was an unceremonious end; as the knight was barking orders, attempting to organize a strong push into the gatehouse, did a random arrow find him. Launched at another, the tip ricocheted off of a stone parapet before finding itself imbedded into the right eye socket of the popular knight.

Ser Jeremy Flogg died before his neck snapped from landing against the corner of the stone merlon.

The fall of Ser Jeremy along with the unknown fate of the wounded Ser Imry, led to the Rivermen to finally break. Less than two hours after daybreak, the first assault failed.

Of the two thousand some odd Rivermen that assaulted the walls, only half made it back after about three hours.

The first day of the siege, had gone to the Westermen.

Their assault had not been totally wasted however, though a thousand Rivermen fell, they took with them about fifteen hundred themselves. Roughly equal to the size of the reinforcements that the garrison received.

But overall, the first attack was a loss. Lord William Mooton was critically injured, unknown if he'd survive. Ser Hyle Mooton, his second son, died. Ser Jon Mooton, his heir, was also injured. Ser Jeremy Flogg died in the battle which put his small family, House Flogg in jeopardy as he was his father's only heir.

Lucas Blackwood, though he survived, was injured. His left arm had to be amputated just above the wrist. Thankfully it was not his sword arm, but to have to lose it so young was a sad thing. Robb had offered to take him as a squire after he had recovered.

Sers Cleos and Lyonel Frey both fell nearly immediately at the start of the battle. Ser Ned Cox, heir to Ser Quincy died, leaving his own boy as the next heir to Saltpans.

Ser Donnel, brother of the deceased Ser Harys Haigh and uncle to his father's heir, young Walder Haigh, was critically injured as well.

They would have to find another way to take the castle.


He had just left the command tent, head throbbing from all the shouting and angry yelling for the last hours. The Rivermen were angry at both themselves, the Northmen, and the Westermen; generally upset all around.

Lord Bolton had once more advised a prolonged siege, as well as inserting spies or paying off Westermen soldiers to assist them.

Lord Glover had argued for a greater assault. Though initially unpopular, Robb admitted there were some good points. The first assault taught them that the enemy had been posted around the castle, not until sunrise were many more thousands of them able to transfer to the northern section of the castle.

With this in mind, if their force attacked from three or more positions, they could split the enemy forces. Not allowing them to reinforce each other.

But the problem was still numbers. Though they outnumbered the Westermen, they were still defending from a strong position. Further, the accompanying Riverlands host could no longer be counted on as an effective force. This left only the Northern host and any Riverlord volunteers.

Perhaps they outnumbered the Westermen by three or four thousand, but in siege warfare, that small difference still favored the Westermen.

Which was why, as the sun was beginning to fall, Robb had called an end to their meeting. Tempers were high, heads were clouded, and no solid ideas had been made.

He had ordered the assembled lords and knights to break for the day, have supper, get a restful sleep. He had a half a loaf of bread, and a wedge cheese. Nothing more than a small tankard of ale to wash it down.

When he entered his own, small tent, Grey Wind rose from his napping position.

"Hey boy." Robb softly ran his hand against the back of his growing direwolf.

The yellow eyes of his closest companion peered deep within his very soul. Blaming his tired state, he shook himself awake and laid down on his cot.

Closing his eyes, he prayed to the Old Gods for a long, if not restful slumber.


Robb awoke to the sound of whining coming just to the left of him. Rubbing the sleep from out of his eyes, he peered over and saw Grey Wind anxiously yapping and lightly growling at him.

"What is it boy?"

Since the beginning of the Battle in the Blackwood Vale, through their current campaign, Robb learned never to dismiss the attitude of his faithful soul-partner.

Grey Wind nudged him with his snout, nearly pushing him out of his cot due to his ever-growing size.

"What, what, what? What is it ya fur ball?"

Grey Wind turned around, and made for the flap of his tent, before turning his head back to look at him.

"Oh hold on there, give me a moment." Robb slowly rose from his cot, making sure his armor was still all buckled together. Grabbing his arming blade, he strapped it to his waist before rising.

Finally on his own two feet, Robb opened the flap to his tent. It seemed that it was the very dead of the night, the moon at its apex. On either side of the flap stood two Winterfell Honor guardsmen. He refused to have any other men guard his quarters.

Both turned to look at the sudden movement.

"Lord Robb?" One of the guards, Alyk he believed, asked him.

"No worries, it seemed Grey Wind here wanted me to go on a walk with him." As he started to follow Grey Wind, who began to walk away, he came upon Lord Glover, who seemed to be leaving the command tent.

"Lord Glover?"

"Lord Robb, apologies if I woke you. I have being peering over the plans of the castle for hours now and just decided to finally sleep.

"I see. Well you'll have to forgive me, but perhaps you wouldn't mind taking a walk with me?"

"It'd be my honor, mi' lord."

And so, Robb, Lord Glover, and two Winterfell guards, began to follow the direwolf as it seemed to walk further and further away from the camp.

Every time he or another would try and direct him back to the camp, Grey Wind would growl and stubbornly face the same direction.

Finally, after some time of following the wolf, deep into the heart of the woods around the great fortress, they began to come upon another tree line.

"Where is this bloody beast taking us?" Robb heard Alyk ask his fellow guard.

"Watch your tone, that there is a gift from the Old Gods it is."

Just before he could turn around, Grey Wind huffed, and sat on his haunches. The first time since he woke Robb.

"What is it boy?"

Grey Wind didn't make a sound, simply staring ahead.

Following his line of sight, Robb finally found what he was looking at.

And gasped.

"Mi' lord?"

Raising a finger, he pointed to what he saw. "Look my lord."

And so it seemed, Grey Wind had shown them a section of the wall, that was not heavily defended, and at the very base of it, a rusting, broken, metal grate, formally protecting a sewage ditch of some kind, having long since rusted out.

"I think my lord, my friends, that we have found our new plan of entry into this bloody castle."

For the first time since they arrived, Grey Wind turned to look at Robb, his mouth open, the direwolf seemed to give off an almost…unnatural grin.

A wolfish grin.

And Robb responded with his own.

"Good boy."


*If you haven't already, go and check out my short story/oneshot about Lyanna and Rhaegar. I am thinking about turning it into a fully fledge story, however, I am forcing myself to finish this.

**I already have the next chapter completed, ready for editing, and a second chapter I have started to write.