A/N: Chelsea, thank you, this chapter is dedicated to you.
POV Robert Baratheon
"Ned,wake up!", Robert hissed shaking his friends shoulder, by the second shake Neds eyes snapped open and he was half way to standing up with his longsword in his right hand and dagger in his left.
The bastard, Ned was the lightest sleeper Robert knew, Jon practically salivated at learning that fact in the first year of their foster-age. Gushing about how damn useful that ability will be on a campaign.
Ned did a quick search of their shared tent before turning to Robert and whispered, "What is the situation, Rob?"
"Long range sentries found the Black Sons trying for a night raid, they alerted the sentries in the camp. The Commander decided to let them near the killing field before turning the attack. He wants the word spread quietly among the soldiers to get them armoured and armed, once that done, squads are to get to their assigned positions near the palisades and lie down and wait. All needs to be done without lighting any more lanterns and as quietly as we can manage", Robert replied as fast and as quiet he can above the pounding of his own heart.
This is his first fight on this scale, he killed before, of course, but thats mostly clansmen in the Vale, largest engagement he had ever been in had about hundred men, both sides combined. But this, this is war, a small one, but a real war all the same.
Blood started to pound in his veins, Robert can feel the surge of the thrill of the fight to come start somewhere in his gut, like prodding charcoals in a banked hearth to reveal that golden glow, the fire hasn't truly began yet, but the fuel is being primed for it, its the same feeling he got when he decided to get a good fuck. Robert can hold on in that state for a good while before the action begins, be it fighting or fucking.
As his body was priming for whats to come, Robert watched Ned go through his own version of it, and it was instantaneous, Ned just went Ice Cold and Stone Hard, no ramping up necessary, eyes flashed silver for an instant before going cold iron grey, face set like a stone in a slight frown.
The bastard.
"Hmm, lets get on with it then, I assume you passed the word to our corporals before waking me?", Ned continued without waiting for an answer, "lets get armoured up, Ironeyes will join us mid-battle, after wreaking whatever havoc he could on their back-lines ".
The bastard, Robert never told anyone but he was immensely jealous that Ned has a Direwolf pet to fight beside him, thats stuff of legends right there, fuck it when I return to Stormlands I am getting or raising myself twenty point bull stag.
And they began to do just that, helping each other when needed, armours gifted by Jon could be donned by themselves of course, but doing so took twenty minutes, having another set of helping hands made it a process of five, especially because they practised doing this a thousand times.
Armoured up, they crouched and duck walked themselves to their squads, who are in the process of armouring and arming themselves, which took them ten more minutes, after that its another ten minutes to get to their positions and lying down with care, so that they don't jostle with each other getting up. During all that Ned was near silent, which made Robert feel like a blundering oaf, even though Robert knew himself to be one of the most graceful and light on his feet warrior in Westeros. Robert surprised veterans and master-of-arms in two kingdoms with how smoothly and quietly he could move, still Ned was better at it.
People assume that Ned got his moniker of The Quiet Wolf because how little he talked and how forgettable he seems next to Robert and Brandon, but Jon gave Ned that name when Ned clobbered Master-at-Arms of Eyrie, when he made the mistake of taking his eyes off Ned for an instant when Robert and Ned sparred with him as a tag team.
The bastard, once gain Robert cursed fondly, while waiting silently.
After twenty minutes of waiting while contracting and relaxing his muscles in a slow cycle to keep himself limber, a horn blasted from the middle of the camp and light blazed in the watchtowers and bloomed in the camp behind them. And Robert could hear the enemy mounting on the horses the brought along.
Its time to let loose, blood pounded, thrill surged, everything became crystal clear and his focus is razor sharp.
Their squads smoothly slid into their positions and took up javelins and shields as enemy cavalry charges with horse archers to screen their foot.
For next two minutes archers exchanged fire, they held up their shields and once the enemy cavalry nears the palisades to veer to sides either for encirclement or retreat its their squads turn, they threw their javelins, Robert threw his powerfully enough to skewer a man through and punch into the horses neck.
As remnants of enemy cavalry formed up screen enemy foots flanks, its time for pikes.
Time lost all meaning, his mouth stretched into a grin, stab, pull back, stab, pull back and stab and pull, stab and pull.
A horn sounded, somewhere near, calling to reinforce the gate, Robert turned to Ned to behold a snarling face.
They shared a look, nodded in understanding, ordered half their squad reserves with them and remaining half to stay put. And started in a jog towards the gate. Its hammer-time.
Three other half squads joined theirs in the three minute jog to the gate, and they smoothly fell into their rhythm. Damn that sour toothed bear of a Master Sergeant was right, drilling formation runs for four hours a day for past month paid off. Still he is a right bastard though.
Probably hearing their steps officer at the gate ordered his squad to retreat four paces, just in time for Robert and Ned with the squads to crash into enemy flank, as no doubt other reinforcements did on the other flank.
What followed is rush of crushed skulls, broken bones, shattered ribs and sprays of blood, as Robert did what he does best, be the biggest fucking distraction and Warrior incarnate to draw the eyes as Ned covered his back and quietly slid his longsword through gaps in armour or his dagger through eyeballs or slitting open throats. Somewhere along the way Ironeyes joined the fray by bowling over a man rushing at Ned and ripping the back of the mans neck along the way.
By the time its done by were outside the palisades, Robert just crushed the head of some blue bearded asshole in damn fine suit of armour with enemy dead piled at their feet, their squads six paces behind them. Robert bellowed to heavens in exultation with Ned quietly sheathing his longsword.
The soldiers broke out into cheers.
A/N: Let me start with saying, I am sorry for leaving you guys hanging. I had been in a motorcycle accident, a month in the hospital, four months in physiotherapy. After that, I had to move back with my parents, that was thoroughly humiliating and depressing, I did not have it in me write for several months after that whole ordeal. But I am somewhat better now, got a part time job, got my own place, even if its a shoebox with a shared bathroom.
Sorry for the short chapter.
