Chapter 36: War And Consequence

"You can't be serious." Jaime said as he stopped his horse and saw the force assembled before him.

"He must be mad." Addam agreed.

"I thought Hoster Tully was a smart man, but he's got his entire army outside the gates of Riverrun." Jaime said out loud. "What is he planning?"

"I do not know. But do you wish to change the strategy?" Addam asked.

Jaime shook his head. "No, we keep things the same. Tell the others."

Addam nodded and hurried off to pass the message down the lines.

Jaime would command the vanguard, that was his preferred role in battle. Ser Lyle would command the left; the right would be commanded by Jaime's uncle Ser Stafford. The baggage would be protected by Ser Lucion.

Addam returned. "How many men do you think he has?" Jaime asked his friend.

Addam did a quick count and then said. "Half of our force."

Jaime snorted. "Hoster Tully must be ambitious."

Addam grunted. Jaime looked at his horn blower and nodded. The man blew the horn and Jaime advanced forward. His heart beat steadily. There would be no time for a decompressed turn of events. The only thing that mattered was whether or not he won. Given the fact that Riverrun was before them, he wondered if Hoster Tully would try a bait and switch. Lure Jaime forward as far as possible then part like the sea and start firing trebuchets at him.

He barked a command and ordered some of the men kept back. Better that they didn't all suffer if that were the case. Still, he wanted to taste blood. The Tullys had dared to wake the lion, and now they would feel its wrath. As things started to get quicker, his horse moved in an urgent tempest. Jaime drew his sword.

The distance between the two armies was reducing quickly. His heart quickened. The time was approaching. Jaime said a prayer to the Warrior and then the clash began. His sword met steel in opposition. They danced. Pushing one way, pulling the other. Swinging through the might of time. Jaime came out on top, and his enemy fell.

Another foe appeared then. This one was spitting mad. Barking to the point of insanity. Jaime ducked and dodged, weaving through the chaos of the maniacal moment. This foe was brought down as well, a single shot to the eye and the figure was screaming bloody murder.

Jaime snorted. As he moved through the throng, he realised he hadn't put his helm on. He laughed then. Wouldn't that be something? If the Kingslayer, the heir to the Rock was killed by an arrow because he hadn't worn his helm? Father would be furious. But the thought of dancing that closely with death excited him.

He hadn't had this much fun in years. Now he got the chance to taunt the Tullys. They weren't using their archers for some reason, but that didn't matter. He'd get what he wanted and he'd drive them through.

As he thought that, another figure appeared. This one was dressed in Tully colours and was swatting away soldiers as if they were flies. Impressed, Jaime urged his horse toward the figure. They danced at the swords for a little while. Jaime parried his blow, the man parried his, then Jaime struck once, twice and on the third blow, he managed to remove the other man's sword. He looked at the figure and frowned.

The figure drew a dagger then and tried to get closer to Jaime, Jaime leaned back, and kicked his horse so that the beast reared up and kicked the man, causing him to get knocked off his horse. Jaime's horse came down and Jaime stared at the man. There was something familiar about him. But what it was, he couldn't quite place.

Jon picked up a sword, one of steel, and moved into the ring. Robb was facing him on the other side of the ring. They bowed to one another and then they circled each other. Jon knew his brother; he knew Robb wouldn't strike first. Jon also knew that Robb knew that he wouldn't strike first either.

Their dance would continue until one of them got bored. Jon used this time to look at his brother, really look at him. Robb was taller now; he also had a slight beard growing. His eyes looked tired as if the world was pushing down on him. Jon knew that the fact that father hadn't responded to any of the letters that he had sent would be weighing down on Robb.

He wished he could find a way to comfort his brother, but he couldn't. There was nothing he could say that would relieve that burden or that stress. So, instead he waited. Robb looked at him and Jon found himself wondering what his brother saw. Jon knew from looking at himself in the mirror in his room that he'd gotten taller as well, and a bit broader. His face had thinned out as well.

He knew he might look a bit more like father, something which he was sure Lady Catelyn did not like. But something he took pride in. Albeit slightly shamefully.

He blinked when he saw Robb move. The other man moved quickly; Jon only just about managed to bring his sword up in time to block the blow. His brother grinned at him. Jon grinned back then pushed. Robb moved back. Jon advanced. He swung left, Robb moved right, Robb swung, and Jon moved left.

Jon grinned; his brother returned his smile. Jon moved forward, in a rapid movement. He took a firm dart at his brother. Robb blocked and blocked, but Jon wasn't focused on getting his brother to lose his grip or be forced to surrender. He was forcing him to the edge of the circle. If Robb stepped out of the circle, then he lost.

Just as he had that thought, Robb started to move forward, pushing hard at him. Jon grunted with the effort of blocking his brother's attack. Jon knew that whilst he was quicker, Robb was firmer and stronger. As such he had to use every bit of his brain to keep things from tipping over. Robb didn't relent. Jon pushed back but found himself advancing backward.

Just as he got concerned that he might be about to tip over, Robb stopped. Jon frowned. Why had his brother stopped? Jon took a step forward and Robb swung. The flat bit of the sword hit Jon on the cheek causing him to wince.

"Pay attention Snow!" Ser Arys called from the side.

Jon grimaced.

"You did that deliberately." He said to his brother.

Robb grinned. "Got to fight dirty sometimes."

Jon snorted and swung at his brother, resuming their fight.

Robb looked at the letter that Luwin had handed him. It contained a new seal. A stag and a lion rampant. The seal that Myrcella had used before their marriage. He wondered at it. He looked at Myrcella who nodded.

He opened the letter; the handwriting was barely legible. He squinted. "I can't read this." He spoke.

"Hand it here." Myrcella said. She squinted and then said. "I can just about make out what he's said."

"Who is it from?" Mother asked.

"Joffrey." Myrcella said.

"Joffrey." Robb echoed, that couldn't be good.

Myrcella started reading. "Stark, I write to inform you of my father's death. King Robert died after a brief illness." Myrcella stopped reading then for a moment, Robb took her hand in his and squeezed. He had not known King Robert that well, but he had seen how much Myrcella had loved her father.

Myrcella took a breath and continued. "Before I could assume my rightful place on the throne, your father, the traitor Lord Eddard Stark entered the throne room and committed treason."

Robb exhaled. "That'll be the King's will then."

Myrcella continued. "He claimed that my father had disinherited me in favour of my sister Myrcella. He also claimed that my father had named you as my sister's co-ruler and that he was to serve as regent. Such nonsense!"

Robb sighed; he knew exactly where this was going.

"Such treason had to be punished, especially when your father tried to enforce it by armed force. His men were dealt with severely. As for your father, he now rots in the black cells."

Robb felt Myrcella squeeze his hand.

"I have offered him a choice; he can accept that he did wrong, and he will be able to return to Winterfell. Or he can refuse, and the wall will be his fate."

"To give him an incentive, I have decided to invite you, south. Perhaps seeing his firstborn son will remind him of what he stands to lose."

Myrcella put the letter down and then looked right at him.

"You can't go south. It's a trap. The moment you go south, Joffrey will have you thrown in a cell next to father."

"Myrcella's right." Mother said. "This is exactly what the Mad King did to your grandfather. And look how that ended."

"Father won't accept that he's done something wrong." Robb said simply. He knew father, he knew that honour would push him to stand by what King Robert had instructed even if it meant his life.

"So, what are you going to do?" Myrcella asked.

"I will go south." Robb replied. "With an army and I will put Joffrey's head on a spike."