Chapter Seventy-Seven
…
The Red Woods, Two Hours as the Crow Flies from The Golden Tooth
There would be many tales talked about the Battle Under the Red Woods. Many historians, philosophers and analysts would be debating about it for the centuries to come. There would be great questions after all about who really lose the most during the great battle. No one however can deny that during this fight for the Right of the Iron Throne, the Lannister forces under Ser Jaimie Lannister are crushed once and for all.
Jaimie is no fool. He knows that it would be completely stupid to challenge the enemy in a ground of their choosing. However even if the decision not to adhere on said wisdom is folly, sometimes one can never avoid it smacking right into one's face with the force of a sledgehammer and whatever deity that is that controls Karma.
The raids of Emdure Tully have done their part. At first they are nothing more than nuisances, pin pricks and knife wounds to the fifty thousand strong army gathered by Jaimie against those who challenge Cersei's final will. His uncle warned him to respond to the raids but Jaimie didn't listen. After all what were the ten man raids against the mass numbers he was mobilizing? Before Jaimie realized the trap it was too late. The Tully heir hadn't been aiming to reduce his numbers but to cut off his supplies. Sure the entire army still had their current stuff with them, but the food, water, weapons and things needed for a battle had all been cut off. This basically pushed Jaimie to force a battle lest he suffer the consequence of his ignorance.
Jaimie is no stranger war after being in participation during the Battle of Pyke. This is his first time however commanding a large army and facing off against a well-known efficient one like the Death Dealers. That is why Jaimie is here right now facing off against the Thirty Thousand men gathered opposite of him over the field. He can see them all, a combination of Black Guard at the Center line, the Riverlanders at the Right and the Northmen at the Left. He almost wants to scoff at their attires. Compared to the highly equipped and armored soldiers of House Lannister; those of House Stark and the Riverlands wear mostly boiled leather armors with the occasional plate or chain mail. It seems only the soldiers of Rivendell would be his main adversary as he expects. Unlike the other motley groups milling about, they look professional and disciplined.
"We finish this men once and for all, in the name of Joffrey Baratheon! Advance and march!" Jaimie roars leveling his sword at the gathered forces arrayed against him.
Any stupid commander might have ordered the charge to be headfirst. Basic combat doctrine after all states that in the case of overwhelming numbers against the enemy, it is better to play it simple and conventional to avoid confusion. The only reason Jaimie however does not follow that teaching to the letter is because he is fighting against Rivendell forces. If it is the North or the Riverlands it would be another story, but the forces of the Tully bastard never play conventional and it is always wise to be wary. Sure he cannot see her, but his daughter with Cersei have been trained and groomed under her. He would eat his boot if she has not a nasty surprise waiting for him and his men. Either way Jaimie however has given the order already that she be captured only, not killed. Make no mistake, he would crush every single man and woman in her army and maybe have her roughed a bit for this is war, but he would never end her life.
He is her father after all.
…..
Rivendellian Center Lines
Myrcella stands side by side with her own Royal guard amidst the Rivendell line. She has at first opted to fight as Delianah does, via donning an outfit of a Black Guard but Amelia and Rhaenys shot it down immediately. Her golden armor is made out of the finest steel with a combination of Valyrian and Delianite. As her Rae-Rae so eloquently puts it: "It would stop a battle-axe from carving your chest but it would still hurt like hell," thus as usual Myrcella acquiesces to their request.
Is Myrcella afraid? Yes she is. She is going after all against her uncle and already it seems that her uncle is no fool like the majority of lords of Westeros. Instead of a headlong charge, he is taking the cautious approach by marching his army step by step towards them. Draco has made it clear to her that he has a plan, what plan, Myrcella doesn't exactly know since she spent the majority of her time mingling with the men, making sure they see her and inspire them for the coming battle.
Now here she is side by side wiith a cadre of Death Dealers with Amelia and Rhaenys. While they might have used the Gryphons, Draco has stressed that it would be counterproductive to his plan at the moment, thus on foot they stand.
"This is one way to clear the ale. Smell of a thousand armpits," grumbles her Rae-Rae making Myrcella smile beneath her opulent winged helm. Leave it to her best friend to change the mood of battle.
"If we're lucky my lady, they would smell us and run away," comments one of the Death Dealers.
"I doubt that. With how much the Lannisters crawl all over King's Landing, they might be immune to it by now. The city breathes the smell of shit every day after all," retorts Amelia making chuckles to occur all over the line.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! WHO TOUCHED MY ARSE! I'M NO SWORD SWALLOWER!" the indignant voice of Elder Marcus erupts making everyone within hearing range laugh at that. The laughter however died as a cheer erupts along the advancing Lannister Line, their shields raised and ready. Fifty thousand men are glaring at the golden figure they aim to bring down.
"Are we ready soldiers!?" the call of Watcher Draco shouts from the front.
"YEAH!" twenty thousand voices sound off in reply.
"When I call the order, give ground. One step at a time, we reel them in under the eaves of trees, then we claim victory! Victory!"
"VICTORY!"
"Victory!?" he repeats.
"VICTORY!"
"Victory till we set the crown on our queen's head! Trust me and trust the man beside you! SHIELD WALL! DOVAGHAERIS!" like clockwork, the entire Black Guard lines locked shields and ready on their formation. Unlike the War of the Faith, all of them are sufficiently trained for times like this one today. The Northmen and Rivermen also follow suit though they a bit more haphazardly as their levies imitate their more professional counterparts.
"FIRST STEP! BACK!" Draco roars and with a grunt, the entire line falls backward.
"SECOND STEP! BACK!" he repeats and with another heave, the ranks follow.
The confusion in the eyes of their enemies can be seen by their sudden retreat and already some of their commanders are urging their lines a bit forward eagerly anticipating fear of their enemy.
"STEP BACK!" the command rings again and the line obeys once more.
By then it is obvious as with a howl of glee, the first line composed of mercenaries roar forward eager to get to grips with the forces of Myrcella. The familiar tension of an incoming fight once more grips the Princess. It is not fear but one of rather tenseness and expectation. Many along the Riverlands and the North are also dealing with it as more than one can be seen pissing himself or vomiting. Even the Black Guard members are also becoming tense with nervousness
"Hear me men and women here today!" the sudden voice of Elder Marcus booms from one end of the line to the other. "When the clarion call sounds! We march out to defend our liege and lady! That which is sublime we shall protect! That which is good, we shall defend! Hear us, for we are men, MEN that would stand against all that we hold dear. We, soldiers are the VANGUARD AND SHIELD!"
Cheers erupt from the entirety of the line as the impromptu speech livens up everyone's spirits once more. Myrcella seeing a chance once more of morale, draws her sword and lifts it up to the air.
"When all else fails?" her voice is clear and loud that it surprises even her.
"WE PREVAIL!" the roar of ten thousand voices erupt all over the Rivendell line.
"Winter is coming!"
"Family, duty, honor!" the other two allies' also joins in to the cheering emboldened by their lords.
Their calls are perfectly timed as the first of Draco's traps kick in, or rather, been stepped at. In another place, another time, caltrops are perfect for ruining any vehicles day, able to take out tough tires. In this medieval backwater period however, they are twice as dangerous. Saboteurs who rise on the dawn have planted the entire few yards of Myrcella's army with the sharpened star spike. Easy to make, easy to form, they are by the hundreds. Leather boots and hides provide little to no protection against the steel stakes .
Yells of pain and alarm echo from the Lannister front as entire forward formation buckle and fall, many not rising again. Of course due to the army's momentum, those at the second and third line are jostled forward making them scream out as they resist futilely before stumbling and crashing to the waiting claws of the deadly trap. In the matter of seconds, dozens upon dozens are crying out in pain and agony as the Lannister line stall.
This of course results to cheers from Myrcella's army who witness many of their foes falling down before they can even lay a finger on them.
"Knights abandon your horses and lead the way, crush the metal spikes under your boots!" barks out Jaimie. Within moments almost two hundred knights are dismounted and are walking through the caltrop traps. Unlike the regular infantry, knightly steel boots are somewhat resistant to the sharp objects flattening many of them by sheer body mass alone.
"Archers! Knock! Draw! Loose!" Lannister longbowmen fired by the hundreds, the arrows making a shade over the beating heat of the sun.
"Shield to shield! Drop Down!" the call goes out and immediately the army of Myrcella tucks down for cover as arrows pelt them. While majority of the arrows get stuck on shields, others found their mark, especially those who have the luck to fall on the levies who are wielding nothing but sharpened pick-axes, knives, or the occasional club.
Screams of the dead and dying can be heard as the entire line reforms after the barrage.
"Step over the dead! Charge!" orders one of the Lannister generals whipping the Lannister army to frenzy as they walk over their wounded and dead comrades before charging en masse to the still recovering line of Myrcella's army.
With an ugly CRUNCH! The two armies finally come to grips over one another as it becomes shield to shield. Swords, spears, pikes try to cut through the gaps of the lines as it devolves into a push and fight situation. Men fell on both sides, either wounded or dead. A spear comes out from nowhere and cuts straight through the throng of men cutting Amelia down as she is pierced on her upper shoulder.
"AMELIA! NO!" the sudden pained voice of her Rae-Rae can be heard as the Castellan of Rivendell fell clutching her wound.
"We have to fight back! Second line! HOLD!" shouts Myrcella and immediately the pushing paused as the entire Black guard second line halts the slowly backing of the front.
"PUSH!" and with a mighty heave, the massive circular shields of the entire front line slams outward throwing the Lannister soldiers off guard before spears meet them like snake tongues. Men cry out and fell before remaining unmoving. Enraged, their comrades try for another push only to be met by a wall of shields.
"PUSH!" the shields bash outward again and the bloody process repeats again as the stunned Lannister men get eviscerated by spears of the Black Guard front lines.
"STEP BACK!" the call rings out one more and with a heave, the lines once more move, and another and another.
"FOR KING JOFFREY!" the cries can be heard out as the Lannister soldiers and mercs hack those who are unfortunate enough to be left behind by the falling back lines or dragged out through the bloody melee.
"STEP BACK!" the call rings out once more and the entire line moves though this time the Lannister forces are committing their reserves that the entire line is buckling from the amount of men bearing down on them.
"We have to make a stand or we will be overrun!" Myrcella calls out to Draco who shakes his head in negative.
"We are almost there! We stick to the plan your grace!"
"Fuck!" Myrcella curses beneath her breathe before following the order to make another step back.
"I see her! I see the princess! She's in the middle line!" a golden armored figure with white bloody cloak suddenly shouts pointing to where Myrcella is stationed in. "Cut off her head and we will win this fight!"
"Lorch!" the sudden hiss from Rae-Rae makes Myrcella turn to her best friend who looks in hatred at the man. "He's the one who stabbed me a hundred times before throwing me to the sea Cella! Today he dies!"
Myrcella only nods grimly before following another step back call from Draco. They are caught totally off guard though as without warning the center line of the Black Guard lIne buckles.
"What is going on?!" Myrcella demands as she is almost thrown off her feet.
"They are forming a wedge like a ram my lady! We have to move you-UGH!" Elder Marcus is cut off as the center line once more bucks again as the wedge of shields and men slam like a pincer on the Black Guard lines throwing men and women off their feet.
"They are breaking through! We must-!"
"YAAHHH!" with a mighty war cry, the pincer move of the enemy once more crashes on the weakened line of shields this time successfully breaking through as men are trampled underfoot. Immediately Lannister soldiers pour unto the breach hacking and screaming madly as they attempt to maintain the cut on the Black Guard lines.
"They have broken through! Protect the princess!" Rhaenys' voice calls out, her swords flashing as it decapitates two Lannister mercenaries at once. Like angry bees, the Death Dealers marshal to her side, their weapons doing their grim work cutting and dicing anyone stupid enough to get near five feet of Myrcella.
"Look my lady the trees!" one of the Death Dealers call out making Myrcella turn and realize that indeed they have finally reached the end of their backing.
"GENERAL!" she calls out loud making the man at the frontline also twist his head. Instantly he realizes what she means for he nods before grabbing a horn which he blows in a ringing blast.
It does not take long for anyone to find out what it means. In the span of a minute, riders carrying the banners of Rivendell, the Riverlands and the North appear from the left and the right following an enveloping pattern at each side. In the span of seconds, the entire Lannister army is in a panic as they realize that they are being positioned in a double envelopment. Their ranks are scattered and they are out of their clumped or square formation, the only hope of infantry against riding cavalry.
"Run them over!" the commander of the cavalry forces, a giant Greatjon roars, his battle axe crushing men left, right and center.
It is already over as far as Delianah can see it. The Lannister forces have no chance. They are trapped in an anvil and a hammer. They are literally powerless as the riders ride them over. The front line also seized the opportunity by advancing. With the pressure of the Lannister forces finally gone, Draco gives off the call to break formation and charge. Black Guard skirmishers followed by a bloody looking Edmure Tully lead the charge as they hack and bash through anything that has a red color on it. In the end, it lasted an hour more before the last of the fighting died down. It might have been longer if not for the Gryphons appearing without warning and causing rampage on the thickest of battle, their claws, beaks and wings sending body parts flying everywhere.
The mercenaries are quick to surrender, the cowards that they are exposed. The Lannister levies take a little more bloodying, but the Lannister Lords and their men-at-arms mostly died to the last man. They have after all tortured many a Riverman peasant during the initial stages of the war and many feared to be subject to the same treatment. The last casualty however is the duel between her Rae-Rae and Amory Lorch. It is not even a duel, more like a torture on the latter's side. The man has little skill and he succumbs to the thousand paper thin cuts Rhaenys inflicts on him.
"Your grace, your prize. Jaimie Lannister, the Golden Lion of the Westerlands," a sallow looking pale Northener pushes a muddy and bloody looking Jaimie Lannister to fall in front of Myrcella.
"Uncle," she neutrally greets the man who is family to her in a way.
"Myrcella," he breathes out making a swaggering mocking bow. "You look good in that armor. Very flattering on the battlefield,"
She has to resist the urge to punch his teeth off. Can't he see he is making it difficult for her not to give the order to chop his head off? She can literally hear the grinding of teeth of her retinue from the utter disrespect.
"Better get him off of here before Rhaenys disembowels him for good measure,"
"Your army has fallen uncle. Surrender now and you may keep your honor intact," she declares.
"Aye, I surrender niece. I hope that it is in your hands I would be prisoned at and not these uncouth barbarians who would not know the meaning of decency even if it slapped them in the face, he looks mockingly at the Riverlanders and Northeners who once more looks like they would want nothing more than to cut off his head.
"Get him out of my sight and somewhere secure where no one can get pissed off and accidentally kill him," she orders to the Death Dealers who none too gently dragged her still smirking uncle away.
"You are not going to kill him your grace?" asks Edmure Tully angrily.
"No," Myrcella grimaces at the furious look of the future Lord of Riverrun who looks ready to retort. "Before you explode Lord Edmure, please remember that he is a decorated knight and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. At best, I can only send him to the Wall which I intend to do," she adds in a final tone making the man swore and march off with his retinue away.
"You better keep an eye on him your grace. Angry lords are always snippy in troubled times like we have today," the pale looking man who delivered her uncle to her comments making Myrcella move her attention to him.
"What is your name soldier?"
"Ramsay Snow your Grace. I led the Northern Cavalry against the Lannisters in my brother's absence," he bows.
"Your brother? Lord Domeric Bolton? He's the one who's supposed to lead the cavalry. I don't see him,"
"Yes your grace, he is suffering from bloody indigestion and has been confined to his tent due to his desire not to be seen shitting his pants while riding. He asked me to lead the charge instead," he explains.
"I see, good job bringing the Kingslayer to me Ramsay Snow. Keep up the good work and I might even legitimize you in the future," waves Myrcella off.
"I will do my best to live up to your expectation your grace!" he loudly declares before bowing once more.
Nodding in affirmation, Myrcella looks at the bloodied army now looking at her expectantly. Drawing her sword she lifts it high up for all to see. "Men and women, we have won!"
The cheers that followed can be heard all towards the heavens.
….
Camp, Six Hours Later
The aftermath after the battle can only be described as merry as the soldiers feast, drink and fuck, at least in that order. The Black Guard Legionnaires only partakes of the two first and ditch the last. They have lived and grown after all under the umbrella of the Dame of Rivendell who is well known of her disapproval about prostitution and public sex. The Northeners and the Riverlanders however enjoyed themselves fully at their camp followers and that also of the Lannister army.
"Congratulations of the victory your grace, it is well-deserved. Thank you for standing with us,"
"It is my honor Lord Mallister. Please, enjoy your evening," Myrcella raises her cup to the Mallister heir who bows before leaving with his retinue.
While the men after all enjoy themselves fully about the fruits of their victory, for Myrcella, the work continues. Such is the price of royalty. Lords of the participating battle and well-known knights take the time to make connections to her, which is mostly praising her about her participation during the fight. Sure, she might not have been at the thickest of it, but she was there getting herself dirty and bloody among the men and they respect her for it. The men especially love the fact that their liege does not sit on the back like a pompous lady. The minstrels are already singing the song: The Doe who Gored the Lion. Even from where she is she can hear the music of singing.
Under the Red Woods of the Trees,
Whence rot and twigs do fell,
The doe looks up and sees,
A golden lion with teeth and claws to kill.
..
The Lion Roars with fangs do bare
Upon the prey he plans to kill and scare.
Yet the doe stands firm unafraid,
For a crown upon her head was laid.
..
Upon her call, the wolves appear,
With fangs bared and hackles leer.
On Golden Lion who backs away,
On streams of water where traps lay
..
The Silver fish upon that dwell,
On waters cold where darkness swell.
Bit the lion's tale it does,
Unafraid even as it is pulled to grass.
..
The Doe calls out the wolves do strike,
Upon sides and flanks, weakness alike.
The Lion cries out in pain and fear,
Its fangs and claws wicked they tear.
..
Yet once more the Doe Calls out,
A woman with spear appears ready for a bout.
The weapon she gave on the daughter of kings,
And with it she smote the Golden Lion we sing.
..
Now on her head a crown was lain
O queen of lords and ladies twain.
A realm to serve forever more,
Gods bless what was to restore.
..
Myrcella just shakes her head as the men cheers on the minstrels. Part of her wants to object that she personally did not smite Jaimie Lannister down, but Delianah had always taught her to let men be men. Thus she let them enjoy their antics.
"So, I guess that all that is left is kicking your brother off the throne of King's Landing Cella and then we can put your pretty ass on that throne of swords right?" the familiar voice of Amelia makes Myrcella smile as she sees her protector and friend sit gingerly on the cushion at her side.
"Amelia, you're alright already?" asks Myrcella taking note that the Castellan of Rivendell is not garbed with her Death Dealer armor but instead with a black shirt and casual pants.
"Yes, the healers let me out after berating me a lot," she rolls her eyes. "Spear however dug to the bone and thus I should take it easy for a couple of days to let it heal fully. Sorry Cella, but Rhaenys here would be your sworn sword for at least that time,"
"I am up for it Amelia. I am not irresponsible most of the time," croaks out Rhaenys half-deep in her butterbeer mug.
"Exactly Rhaenys," laughs out the Castellan much to Myrcella's amusement. "Seeing of which, I guess the rest of the campaign would be easier once we are done here,"
"Are you really sure about that Amelia? About the campaign being easier? We still have Stannis and the Knights of the Vale to contend to other than King's Landing and Lord Stannis would not be an easy lord to crack," points out Myrcella.
"Of course I'm sure Cella. Our Lord Snow would hopefully weaken that dour faced Lord and the Vale? They're good as dead with our lady personally joining on the field against them,"
"I see, I wish I could have the same confidence as you do Amelia. I still worry for her despite knowing how capable Delia really is," Myrcella admits.
"It is alright to worry Cella. You two are in a relationship after all and you love her in ways that we could not. That only makes you even more special in our eyes," replies Amelia.
Their small banter however is broken as without warning, one of the Hidden Ones appear from nowhere nearly startling the three of them at the bowing cloaked figure.
"Princess Myrcella urgent report!" the Hidden One speaks out. "Domeric Bolton is dead, it was confirmed that the Bolton Bastard has poisoned him. He plans to deal a blow to House Stark with the other dissidents of House Bolton who is not happy with how different the deceased heir has been leading his house, especially with its relationship to House Stark,"
"When is he planning this blow assassin?" asks Myrcella already standing up and putting on her armor. While Rivendell and House Stark is not on the best of terms, they are still kin to her beloved and that connection will always remain no matter how much the Stark Matriarch might bitch about it. Plus, Robb is not so bad if only a little naïve with how much he is spouting about honor. The poor boy is so determined to imitate his father that it is a bit frightening.
"Now your highness!"
"Very well Hidden One. Alert Commander Draco and anyone who is sober. Rhaenys! You're riding with me!"Myrcella whistles loudly and in a minute, her golden Gryphon is at the ground followed by two others that belong to Amelia and Rhaenys.
"Amelia, you are not coming with me!" hisses Myrcella as the wounded Castellan hauls herself up to her own Gryphon.
"With all due respect Cella. Shove that order up your ass. I promised my lady I would not let you out of my sight and I intend to keep that promise," answers Amelia grimly as she climbs up her saddle.
Myrcella really want to argue but the time pressure makes her grunt in full annoyance knowing that every second is wasted. "Fine! But you are not getting off that Gryphon under any circumstances,"
"No promises!"
Myrcella only grunts before she urges her ride to the air, the powerful wings taking her to the skies easily. Behind her she can hear the Gryphons of both Rhaenys and Amelia also doing the same. Already she can see the entirety of the Rivendell camp slowly gearing up as the light cavalry designed specifically for emergencies like this sally out to the Northeners part of the camp.
What is supposed to be a twenty minute ride via navigating the large number of tents, people and other doodads is reduced to a two minute travel. It is plain for Myrcella however to see that it is already too late. Blazing fires can be seen from above all over the Northeners camp. Men are fighting or rather killing one another. In any other circumstances, she would have stopped, but she has to stop the damage to Northern leadership and Robb Stark.
"Hail the Young Wolf! Forever young! Hail!" the sound of singing and jeers makes Myrcella move her head to the source only to almost lose his dinner at the sight.
She has found Robb Stark alright, or rather what is left of him. He is dead plain and simple with Grey Wind's head sewed where his master's supposed to be. Men bearing House Bolton colors are parading the desecrated corpse around cheering. Beside Robb being pulled in a cart is the still breathing form of Theon Greyjoy skinned and turned to a macabre of a squid with his loose outer skin nailed all over the cart. Worse he is still alive. A bloody and beaten Jaimie Lannister is also being hauled with a collar on his neck, his missing right hand covered in a bloody bandage while his left holds what seems to be a bloody figurine of a half-man made up of golden coins.
There would be no words to explain what seized Myrcella then. By nature, she is a gentle soul, barely able to hate people. Myrcella desires to love and be loved in return. That is what offsets her to the other high lords and ladies of the realm. She knows how to care. However even the gentlest of souls are capable of rage. Even the most docile sheep would bite and claw in the proper circumstance. This is what fills her now.
With a bitter war cry echoed by her own Gryphon, Myrcella plunges head first to the lines of the celebrating Bolton men. Like a thunderbolt, her Gryphon is among them tearing, squawking and clawing sending men flying or running away in fear. Myrcella herself has her sword drawn and are cutting and dicing any one bearing the sigil of the bloody house. She's not Rhaenys' caliber when it comes to sword skill, but she is good enough. Swords, axes, knives hack at her but her armor, forged by the best and brightest of Rivendell protected her from the worst of it as the powerful enchantments hold. In seconds Rhaenys and Amelia is at her side weapons also joining the fray alongside their Gryphons. Men from House Bolton appear on every side corner trying to drown them by sheer numbers. They are anot alone however. Surviving Lords of the North who have been fighting a survival battle rallied to the powerful trio. Umber, Forrester, Mormont, Glover, Karstark, all rallied to the fight turning the massacre to a proper brawl. They would soon be joined by reinforcements from Rivendell's cavalry and a half drunk Blackfish Tully leading a company of inebriated Riverlanders.
By the time morning rises, the Bolton men would be all dead. Ramsay Snow would be missing with reports from the Hidden Ones reporting soon that he has been seen leaving the camp before dissappeairng. The North however lost its leading Stark and nearly half its leadership, not to mention untold number of men. The Blackfish would also be dead with many Riverlanders and Rivendell a fair number of its Light Cavalry in the brawl. Theon Greyjoy would expire before the afternoon passes, and Jaimie Lannister would be sent to the Wall with his right hand missing. The golden figurine he has been clutching would be revealed as the corpse of Tyrion Lannister. A formal surrender would be instigated by Kevan Lannister, with him claiming fealty to her alongside the Westerlands. For the forces of Myrcella, it is a somber victory with the heavy blow on her allies.
The Battle of Red Woods is over.
…
Author's Note:
Sorry for the long update guys. I've been writing this the past week but my parent has been hospitalized and I have to watch over.
Hope you enjoyed this. The story is 5k long past.
For you Robb Stark lovers, I am sorry for his end. Personally I like Robb, but I don't like how naïve he is. I know some of you might be rooting for a marriage between him and Rhaenys but there is very little chemistry between them. Besides, this is Game of Thrones and no one is safe. I originally planned to have Amelia also die, but I can already see the uproar so I chose not to. Everyone loves Amelia and Rae-Rae after all in the story.
Don't worry for Jaimie. I plan for him to have his moment in the Battle of the Dawn. Hehehe, Dragonglass hand, bitch slapping Wights and White Walkers.
Anyway hope you like the Battle of Red Woods. Next up is Jon Stark vs Stannis Baratheon, The Battle of the Burning Seas.