Here's the chapter meant to kick off the start of Season 2! Thank you to everyone who left a review for the previous part! Most of them were positive though one was a little criticizing which I greatly appreciate! I want to hear what I am doing wrong so that I don't repeat the same mistakes in future chapters!
jean d'arc: Oh Chapter 7 certainly was definitely fun to write! Though I'm not to sure about the coronation leading to the downfall of House Stark...you'll have to keep on reading to find out what I mean.
6lakH20 SA: Thank you for leaving a review! I definitely understand where you are coming though I don't think him getting drunk is out of character for him. Sure, taking his anger out on a tree or Jaime Lannister would have been epic to see but that would have shown the rest of the Lords that he wasn't capable of controlling his emotions. Remember, he is the heir of Moat Cailin. If he goes ballistic now, it will make the other Northern Lords wonder if he is really capable of being in charge of the North's greatest military stronghold and he knows it. Ergo, he drinks and sulks instead. Trust me, though, I haven't glossed over his grief in any way, shape or form. It is still there as is the anger and will build up over time. He will definitely be more ruthless now, however, he hasn't snapped completely.
Thank you to everyone else who left a review as well as favorited and followed the story! It really helps keep me motivated to see people enjoying my fanfiction!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones characters in the story or from the novel, A Song of Ice and Fire. Only the OCs included are mine and any original plots.
Chapter 8 : Battle of Oxcross
299 AC
The fleet of rain that fell from the dark clouds high above in the night sky was a mere inconvenience or rather, an annoyance. It wouldn't do anything to actually hinder their plans. Cregan ran a hand through his soaking wet hair as droplets of water streamed down his face, seeping into his armor. The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf sat mounted on his horse, with Harrion Karstark on his left and Smalljon Umber on his right.
"Fuck's sakes, when are we going to attack the lion cunts?" The Smalljon complained with a gruff tone of voice, impatiently shifting his position on his steed.
"Stop whining, Umber." Harrion snapped harshly, keeping his eyes steady on the tree lines. "We will strike when King Robb gives the command. If we move a moment sooner, and we might fuck everything up."
"Seven Hells, you're uptight!" The Smalljon grumbled with what Cregan assumed was his version of a pout. "Maybe a good fuck with a southron lass will loosen you up."
"He's not wrong, Harrion." Cregan teased and the Heir of Karhold sent him an aghast look, almost as if he took his words of agreement with the Smalljon as betrayal. "I hear that the Walder Frey sent a few of his daughters with his host to cook for us. A couple of them certainly are pretty things. Who knows, they may be willing to join you in your bed."
"Must I sit through this torture?" Harrion grunted, shifting on his horse just as the Smalljon had done earlier.
"Oh? Does the idea of a fair maiden not entice you, Karstark?" The Heir to the Last Hearth mocked, a wide grin splitting his features. He was visibly pleased that he wasn't the only one who enjoyed riling up the eldest son of Rickard Karstark. "Perhaps, you prefer more the company of men. If so, then I shall sleep with one eye open lest you get any ideas."
Cregan quickly covered his mouth to smother his laughter while the Karstark heir sucked in a deep breath, trying his best not to jump off his horse and start pummeling the Smalljon into the dirt. Whereas the Greatjon and Rickard Karstark had made their place next to his eldest brother, their sons had quickly taken to Cregan. The fierce and honor-bound Harrion Karstark had quickly become his staunchest champion following the Battle in the Whispering Woods when he had saved his life.
The Smalljon, on the other hand, he had become acquainted with during the feast in Winterfell, however, only recently had they kindled a friendship. The Heir of the Last Hearth had become his sparring partner in recent months since Robb was far too busy after having been crowned as King in the North and the Trident. The two had bonded rather quickly over the song of steel and wine. It was nice, Cregan had to admit, having friends that weren't his siblings.
The thought of his brothers and sisters caused a bitter feeling to swell in his chest and washed his amusement away. He knew that Bran and Rickon were safe in Winterfell and Jon was away from the war at Castle Black, but it was his sisters that he truly worried for. Wild Arya and sweet Sansa. He regretted not having spent more time with them after he had returned from his fostering Riverrun. No, he had been too busy sparring with his brothers and fucking the whores in Winter Town to pay any mind to them and he hated himself for that. Who knew what sorts of horrors they were witnessing down in the nest of vipers that was King's Landing.
The chilling howls of Sif and Grey Wind cut him out of his internal musings and he, along with Harrion and the Smalljon, instantly jumped into alert, ready to strike against the Lannister camp at any given moment. The call of the Direwolves could be seen by some as an omen of sorts, meant to set a chill in the Lannister in Oxcross before they realized what was about to happen. Screams and the neighing of horses rang loud and true from within the tree lines as the beasts of winter ravaged the sentries and in turn, instilled fear into their steeds which resulted in them stampeding around the camp. A grin split his features as he slid High Justice out of its sheath, the rest of the cavalry gathered doing the same. The Direwolves had attacked first and now, it was time for them to make their move.
"Are you two ready?" Cregan asked his companions.
Harrion gripped the handle of his longsword tightly. "Always, My Prince."
"Let's butcher these cunts already!" The Smalljon bellowed and raised his greatsword high.
It was ultimately Theon's exclamation of King in the North that signaled the attack. With roars and clamors of steel, the northern cavalry, led by King Robb Stark, fell onto the Lannister camp.
It was by no means a fair fight. The northmen cut through the Lannister soldiers without a shred of remorse, tearing through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. The enemy tried to fight back, using spears, swords, even stools. Whatever they could get their hands on, they threw at them but it was all for naught. Cregan fought like a savage beast, cleaving High Justice through the stunned Lannister men. All the fury he had pent up and contained, he unleased on the knights of the Westerlands.
"Hold your ground!" A golden haired man – Stafford Lannister - screamed over the barrage of rain and wind. He had his sword drawn and was trying to maintain order but his words fell on deaf ears. The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf kept his grey eyes trained on him as he urged his horse into a gallop in the man's direction. The good brother of Tywin Lannister didn't even have time to open his mouth to yell out a cry of fear when Cregan's shadow fell on top of him and the cold biting steel of High Justice swung through his head, splitting his skull in two.
By the time dawn broke and the sky grew lighter, the battlefield was a mess of bloodied soldiers and butchered corpses. Though the Battle of Oxcross had lasted only a few hours, it had marked yet another decisive and stunning victory for the North.
"Stop staring at it." Robb's stern voice jolted Cregan out of the daze he had been in, staring at the crown that rested atop of his eldest brother's auburn curls. The headpiece that served as a sign of northern monarchial power had been forged based off the descriptions of the crown worn by the old Kings of Winter, before the time of the Conquest. The iron was painted dark, with nine spikes in the shape of longswords. It truly was an intimidating sight on Robb's head.
"I'm sorry, it's just so…jarring to see you with a crown on your head." The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf muttered, as he sat back in his chair.
"I imagine that it will be more jarring from the shit filled stables where I will have you thrown if you don't stop." The King in the North stated as he looked up from the letter he had been studying, a ghost of a smile on his face.
"Alright, alright, I was merely jesting, Your Grace." Cregan said while rolling his eyes. They were seated in Lord Hoster Tully's solar which Robb had taken up as his own while their grandfather was bedridden. Cregan had visited the man who had mentored him for four years a few days back and had been wrought with fury to see the state he was in. He had almost come to blows with his uncle Edmure for not informing how sick his grandfather had become, though the Heir to Riverrun only stated that Hoster had forbidden any news of his illness to leave the castle. Apparently, he didn't want his enemies to know that he was dying.
"Please do not call me that when we are alone." Robb sighed harshly as he dropped the letter in his hands and leaned back in his chair. "How the fuck am I supposed to be King?"
Cregan shrugged. "The same way you were going to be Lord of the Winterfell and Warden of the North. You will have the same responsibilities, only, now you do not answer to someone sitting on a chair a thousand miles away."
"If we are to hasten this war, we will need southern allies." Robb pointed out.
The boy of sixteen namedays quirked an eyebrow upward. "You mean to make an alliance with either Renly or Stannis?"
"Aye." The Young Wolf said with a nod. "Though we need to be careful as to who we treat with. We need a Southern King who will accept our independence."
"If that's the case then treating with Renly may be the best course of action." Cregan stated, as he thought back to something his grandfather had told him years ago. "Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, but brittle, the way iron gets. He will not allow two kingdoms to succeed from Westeros. Renly might be more inclined to do so."
This time, Robb was the one to raise an eyebrow as he stared at his younger brother with an inquisitive look on his face. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who said that Renly could not be King before Stannis, as were the rules of law and tradition."
The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf chuckled. "That was before we claimed our independence, brother."
The King in the North tapped his index finger on the wooden surface of the table before finally speaking. "Then it is settled. We will treat with Renly and come to terms. He can keep the kingdoms of the South but the North and the Riverlands will remain under my control."
"So be it." Cregan replied with a nod. "Who will you send to negotiate with the man?" His features went pale, however, when Robb sent an apologetic look in his direction. "Oh you've got to be fucking joking. You mean to send me?"
"It was your idea to treat with him so if shit goes south, I can always blame you." Robb joked though Cregan found nothing humorous about the task assigned to him. Politics was exactly the sort of thing he was worst at. He was far better at killing and fucking than he was at treating with arrogant Southern Lords. "You are the person I trust most, Cregan, and, not to mention, you are a Stark. If I send another Lord – be it even one from a Great Northern House – Renly may perceive it as an insult."
"Why don't you send mother then?" Cregan questioned. "She knows him and his family far better than I do."
"Mother met Renly Baratheon as a child and not since." The Young Wolf said before he sat straighter in his seat, his Tully blue eyes narrowing. "There is also another thing that makes me reluctant about sending her. Mother wants to get our sisters back, more than anything. I fear if I send her to Renly Baratheon, she will make an arrangement that is unfavorable to me and my realm. To us all. It's not that I don't want Sansa and Arya back, but I cannot surrender the Kingdom of the North to do so."
Cregan nodded after a moment of silence. Robb spoke truly when he said that their mother had grown desperate. Her proclamation for peace with the Lannisters during the eve of his eldest brother's crowning had been enough for him to see that. "Alright then. However, should I fail in the talks, we might need to look elsewhere for alliances. Have you sent a raven to our Aunt Lysa in the Vale asking for her support in the war?"
"I have sent a dozen ravens from as many holdfasts, but unfortunately, she has not replied to any one of them." Robb said bitterly. "I thought about treating with the Martells of Dorne, however, though they may hold no love for the Lannisters, they are too far South. The only other kingdom I can think of to ally with is Balon Greyjoy. I have already shared my thoughts with Theon on the matter and he agreed to go speak with his father."
"Balon Greyjoy." Cregan repeated, blinking as if he wasn't sure he had heard his eldest brother correctly. "You mean to ask a man who started a rebellion for help? The entire realm knows that the Greyjoys cannot be trusted."
"Are you saying you do not trust Theon?" Robb asked.
"There is a massive difference between Theon and the Lord of the Iron Islands." Cregan spat at the King in the North. "Theon was raised with us, by our father, and was treated like a Stark his whole life. Balon Greyjoy on the other hand is a power hungry cunt who despises House Stark for taking the lives of two of his sons."
"There is no harm in at least trying to win his support." Robb insisted fiercely. "If Theon's words fall on deaf ears then I have ordered him to return to us. However, if he does agree to the terms set forth then we will have gained the greatest fleet in Westeros. We would be able to crush the Westerlands between us."
"This is a huge risk, brother." Cregan warned.
The eldest son of the Quiet Wolf nodded. "I know but it is one that I am willing to take."
"As you command." The boy of sixteen namedays replied with a slight bow of his head before he changed the subject. "What are you going to be doing?"
"I will be riding West." Robb answered. "Another Lannister host is being marshalled at Casterly Rock. Uncle Brynden believes that Tywin Lannister is waiting on them and I agree. I will smash it and repay the Lannisters for what they have done to the Trident."
Cregan grinned wolfishly, his mouth watering at the prospect. "I'll come and join you when I'm done then."
Robb shook his head, shattering his younger brother's hopes. "No, you will not. When done, you'll return here. Tywin Lannister will have to leave Harrenhal to answer my challenge and when he departs the fortress, you must lead a host of men to seize it from behind him. Harrenhal is a valuable seat, take it and we can protect our flank."
The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed by his brother's command but he managed to hide it well. "Fine. I'll hold Harrenhal and cut Tywin Lannister off from King's Landing, if that is your command."
Robb nodded with a relieved smile. "Good. Now that that is settled, I must make preparations with Uncle Brynden and the others. You should see to mother and then, come first light, you will ride for Highgarden."
