Chapter 55: The Field of Gold
300 AC
Oberyn Martell
He marched in front of his troops. He had received command of the middle from Aegon. Not too surprising, as it consisted of ten thousand Dornish spears. The other five thousand Dornishmen were spread around the archer and cavalry units, with fifteen hundred infantrymen held back in reserve.
He stalked along the line, looking his men directly in their eyes. They should see their commander and know he wasn't afraid of what was to come. He stopped and looked over his troops. They were fresh and well-rested. They were well-armed and morale was also high enough. The only problem was that most of them were green. Some units had gotten some fighting experience when they attacked Stormlander castles, but almost none had fought in actual battles yet.
Today would make hard men out of them. The weak ones wouldn't survive, while the others would remember those that died at their feet. They would remember their fallen friends and the satisfying feeling when you pulled your weapon out of your enemy, leaving a big bleeding hole in its place.
Most importantly, they were loyal. Those men were of Dorne. Men of Dorne were different from the rest, and not only in promiscuity. He knew that due to his character, his reputation and his name, these soldiers would follow him to the end of the world if he asked it of them.
The enemy had lined up in front of them, but none made a move just yet. They stared at each other, outside of range of their archers. He looked at the enemy's army composition. From the banners, it seemed the Stark king had positioned his Northern veterans in the center. That meant he and his men would be fighting the cream of the enemy army, under the command of that Umber giant that had taunted him yesterday. He would gladly cross swords with him and make him shut up forever.
Across their right were positioned the Vale troops, with next to them the Vale cavalry. On the enemy right were positioned Rivermen and Stormlanders with the Northern cavalry on their flank. The boy king's personal standard was found behind the army on a hill surrounded by what he assumed was the reserve cavalry.
All in all, it was as he had expected. Their plan remained the same. He and his men would pin the enemy center, while the Golden Company would slice through their flanks and encircle them. They might have done them a favor by putting their best troops in the center. They could hold the enemy's best there until they had disposed of the men of the Riverlands and the Vale.
He turned around contently and started boosting his men's spirits once again, when suddenly a collective gasp could be heard. He turned around and what he saw shocked even him for a moment. In front of the enemy right, riding towards the center were two riders.
One was a herald, carrying a banner with the split sigils of Houses Targaryen and Stark next to each other. The other was Rhaegar Targaryen, or so it seemed. He recognized the armor the Crown Prince had worn during at the tourney of Lannisport. The tourney had been given in honor of the birth of Prince Viserys, in what seemed a lifetime ago. Rhaegar had defeated everyone except his friend Ser Arthur Dayne. It was a feat many still remembered to this day.
The rider's black armor shone dangerously in the winter sun, a red cape flowing behind him. From a distance, he did look like Rhaegar although he seemed to ride better than the former Crown Prince in his opinion. No one could be mistaken on who it was though as a white direwolf ran next to the rider. Once they were in front of the army, the black rider ordered his white steed and companion to halt.
There they stood in silence, simply staring down the entire army, as if daring them to attack him. It was clear he made quite the impression on the army, but he wouldn't let Lyanna's bastard have this moral victory right before the battle.
He screamed at his men to snap to attention, riling them up with war cries they quickly answered with their own. Soon answering war cries came from the opposite army in the distance, yet the rider still remained silent. At last, he rode back to the Northern cavalry on the flank.
He grinded his teeth at the gall that boy had to have to do this. Yet, it seemed the impact had been limited. It hadn't worked. He thought smugly. Sadly, he would be proven wrong only seconds later.
Suddenly cries came from his left and when he looked, he saw how their entire left cavalry was retreating from the battlefield. The banners of Houses Fell and Cockshaw slowly disappearing in the distance. Commotion could also be heard in the archer line and on their left, where the infantry of those houses and their allies augmented the Golden Company's lines.
A few cries were heard and soon the commotion ended. Not much later, a rider from the Golden Company arrived with news for him. "Most of the Stormlanders and Reachmen houses have betrayed us and fled the field. The entire left flank cavalry has retreated away in orderly fashion towards the forest to our left. Many of their archers have also ran away, although more in a rout than anything else as Connington is running some of them down with the reserve cavalry. Their infantry tried the same but was forced back into the line by Captain-General Strickland. Their captains have already been executed.
He nodded silently. It seemed Strickland was as decisive and capable as he had hoped. He had feared it wouldn't be the case, as the man couldn't be considered the bravest of men. Connington also seemed to behave decisively, although far less competent. Routing and slaughtering the traitorous archers, although greatly satisfying, would do little for their cause. He should have forced them back into their ranks.
He stabilized his line and before he knew it horns and trumpets were blown from across the field. Seeing the enemy line slowly approach them energized his whole army. He shouted some encouragements to his men, as he slowly made his way to his place in the formation. It might seem heroic to stand on the first line, experience had also told him that it was plain stupidity.
One charge of one of these Northern giants and he would be on his back, stuck between his countrymen and unable to move. No, he would hold position a few lines back. Close enough to jump in the thick of the fighting with his men, but able to nullify the infantry charge.
"Dornishmen, spearwall!" He screamed and hundreds of spears lowered in an impressive show of discipline and skill. In front of them the enemy was picking up pace. Suddenly, the sound of over a thousand bowstrings could be heard from behind them. The arrows flew in beautiful arcs above their heads and buried themselves in mud, shields and flesh.
Screams were heard, but it only seemed to invigorate the enemy infantry. Before the next volley could land, the first of the bearded savages charged into their line. He pushed back, using his bodyweight to hold the man in front of him in place. He quickly scanned the line. In some places it was buckled, but nowhere did it break.
He smiled. No one could hold a spearwall like the Dornish could. More and more wolves kept streaming in their line, but still they held. From time to time, he stepped forward as they replaced the soldiers who had fallen on the first line. He screamed his orders and motivated the men and they held. He knew that along the line his lords were doing the same thing.
They had some experienced nobles in their ranks. Lords Anders Yronwood and Franklyn Fowler held the troops closest to the flanks. He had placed them as far away from each as possible, as their shared enmity was well-known. Between them, Lords Gargalen, Jordayne, Manwoody and Qorgyle held similar commands with him in the middle.
Surrounding him were some of the strongest fighters of Dorne. Ser Ryon Allyrion, the heir to Godsgrace stood to the left of him, and the Dalt brothers to his right. Behind him stood Ser Ulwyck Uller, his paramour's uncle and a fearsome warrior. Other notable knights and nobles from all around Dorne joined him.
Many forgot that he had made just as many friends as he had made enemies in his time. All of those now stood beside him. Most notably was the presence of his two eldest daughters Obara and Nymeria behind him. Obara was born for this, carrying spear and shield in battle. Nymeria's presence was more surprising, but she had been adamant. For the occasion, she had changed her dresses for armor he had had made for her. She carried a spear and shield like him and her sister, but he knew she had at least half a dozen daggers hidden on her body for close quarter combat.
Tyene had stayed with Arianne in Storm's End. She was equally serving as her handmaiden, confidant and bodyguard. Roles which suited her well, he mused as the man in front of him was struck down by a brutish Northman wearing the colors of House Dustin. He stepped forward, bashing the man back with his shield and taking his position in the line. The man quickly got up again and came back for more. He gladly complied, sticking his spear through his thigh before swirling it around and piercing the man's neck as he had fallen to his knees.
Blood gushed out, deterring his compatriots for a while. He gathered his breath and soon his respite was over. Northman after Northman came upon him. Some he simply pushed back, others he managed to wound and a few he managed to kill them. One on one none of them would stand a chance, however he couldn't risk breaking the line to kill some Northern sheep farmer dressed up in armor.
The battle went on like this for a while, until he suddenly heard screams from behind him. He looked around but couldn't see as he needed to focus on an enemy with an axe and a shield in front of him. Recognizing that this could be a turning point in the battle, he stepped forward out of the line. He bashed his shield against the enemy's nose, making a horrible sound as it broke on impact. Not giving him a time to regain his composure, he swept the man's feet with the edge of his spear. As the man lay on the ground, he knocked his sword away, swirled his spear around and pierced its head through the Northman's exposed neck.
He bashed two others back with his shield and swirled his spear in a wide arc to create space. "Ulwyck!" He shouted at his paramour's uncle. "Take my place in the line, I need to go see what's going on!"
Not waiting on the reply, he strode back into the line. He had managed to push the enemy back enough so he could freely walk back to his troops. His soldiers making way for him to get to safety. Once inside the ranks, he looked around to see what was going on in the back and his eyes went wide. The Northern horse had charged in their rear. What was Connington doing? How could this have happened?
He raced to the back of the lines to get control of the situation. As he looked around him, he could see Obara and some of his elite guard were following him. Nodding to his daughter, he moved on and quickly reached the backlines. The enemy cavalry had pulled back and were preparing to charge once more. In the distance he could see the Targaryen bastard leading the horsemen with his beast right beside him. He was too far away from him to do anything about it though.
He scanned the line, as he shouted for men to form another spearwall. Ser Symon Santagar and Lord Vaith were doing the same on different parts of the line. Good, at least some seem to be somewhat capable of reacting to the enemy.
As they waited for the charge, another set of screams could be heard from his right. Before he knew it, he could see how parts of the grouping of men routed from the battlefield. Most that ran were those Stormlanders and Reachmen that had been forced back into the ranks at the start of the battle, but some men in gold could also be seen among them.
The rout instilled fear in the hearts of his men, he knew, but the they had no time to react. The bastard chose this time to charge at them. He locked shields with his daughter and one of his guards and prepared for the impact. Hundreds of riders rode at them, their horses' hooves thundering across the field.
Right before impact, he jumped forward and pierced a black destrier's belly with his spear. The horse kicked up before falling down and throwing off his rider. The rider was immediately trampled by one his colleagues. However, the clash had the result he had wanted, a very small part of the charge was stopped. Both he and Obara were spared from the impact.
Not everyone was this lucky, as he could see how parts of the spearwall had simply disappeared after the charge. In those parts a fierce melee erupted, after his defensive line was swept away. Enemies swarmed them from all sides. He punched one in the throat with his shield, floored another and stabbed one through the thigh. Not much later, he cut the saddle of a rider, throwing him from his horse and stabbed another beast in the side. Every time that he had wanted to deal the killing blow, another enemy was upon him stopping him from doing so. Yet, he fought on.
Still, more enemies kept coming as chaos erupted all around them. No clear lines could be seen anymore. All that was visible were the new enemies in front of you at every turn. For him, time seemed to slow. He enjoyed this. He was born for this. His brother was always born to rule, but he was born to fight and fuck. That is what he always excelled at.
His spear flashed towards his enemies' legs, arms and torsos. He broke noses with his shield, before trying to slice their necks with his spear. He had never felt more alive than he did now. Even when he was cut on his shoulder by a Northern axe, he simply ignored the pain to repay his opponent in a lethal manner. He turned around, bashed his shield against him to create space and then swirled his spear towards every opening in the man's armor. The warrior managed to block most of them and his armor the rest, but after a while he found his opening. He swung the axe away with his shield and changed his grip on his spear, as he stepped inside the man's guard. He held his spear more like a long dagger now than anything else and stabbed the man in the neck with deadly precision. It was a trick he had once learned from an Essosi pit fighter, he had used it more than once since. It was really heavy to hold your spear like that, but if you mastered the technique it was worth the struggle.
That all changed when a group of riders wearing the tabards of Houses Bolton, Dustin and Ryswell arrived. They encircled him, quickly dealing with his remaining guards. Obara stabbed one's horse down, while he slashed one's femoral artery open with his spear when he passed by. Still, they kept coming. He and Obara fought back to back, as he saw how some his men were trying to reach him in the chaos of the battle.
They stabbed and pivoted in all directions, managing to keep the enemies at bay. Suddenly, a rider wearing the brown Ryswell horse on his shield charged forward. He shot his spear towards the man, but the Norhman deflected it with his shield. He barely had time to jump aside, almost being trampled by the charge. When he turned around, he could see how his daughter hadn't been that quick.
Obara fell to the ground, just as he turned. Her neck cut clean open from the side by the rider's sword. He saw the life leave his daughter's eyes quickly, as she looked up at him for help before dropping to the ground. Primal rage took over and he threw all caution to the wind. Before he even realized it, he was sprinting towards the Ryswell rider. A man in the yellow of House Dustin tried to block him, but he dodged the man's horse just in time. He ran by, as the man's swing missed him completely.
The riders, surprised at his mad charge, turned to meet him but they were too late. The Ryswell rider was turning, not realizing the mortal danger coming for him. Just as the man turned his horse around, he started his jump. The man's blue eyes looked up in shock and terror as he tackled him to the ground. Not caring that he lost his shield and spear in the act, he drew one of the poisoned daggers from his belt.
He stabbed the man repeatedly in the neck. Not caring about anything except for the satisfying feeling of the warm blood of his daughter's killer splashing up in his face. When he finally turned around, he saw he was surrounded by enemy horsemen. He picked the sword up from the horsemen he had killed and waved it in the air around him, daring any of them to come forward.
The first who did so was another Ryswell. Another noble, if his armor had something to say for it. "You killed my cousin!" The man screamed in rage, as he charged him. He waited until the right time, until the man was just close enough. He slashed at the horse's neck, as he ducked under the rider's swing. The horse's squeal was something that could hunt your dreams for days. The rider was thrown off, as its cries were soon replaced with the sound of the horse choking on its own blood.
He ran towards the fallen rider, intending to kill another kinsman of his daughter's killer. Yet, just as he got there, he heard another horse neighing behind him. He quickly turned around but was hit by something hard in the head. He fell hard to the ground. As he lay there, he realized his head was getting wet.
He looked up, as his opponent jumped from his horse. Looking up was difficult, he realized. The man who had hit him was dressed in grey Northern armor, with a pink tabard and cloak. On his tabard was displayed the flayed man of House Bolton.
"Sorry, I couldn't allow you to kill my uncle, Prince Oberyn. I promise to deliver your bones and that of your daughter back to Dorne to your brother." The young Bolton said, as he crouched over him. Next, he felt a small sharp pain under his arm in the hole in his armor. His breath stocked, as his eyesight darkened. The faces of his brother, sister and daughters passed in his mind in quick succession until they settled on Ellaria, the love of his life. He saw her black hair and smelled its smell in his nose. Ellaria, I have failed you. Take care of my daughters, I will wait for you on the otherside.
Jon
His charge had worked wonders, just as Robb had predicted. After the flight of the enemy left flank cavalry, he had charged in the whole there. He had expected to face the enemy reserve cavalry, while the Vale horse kept the enemy right busy, but they seemed to have ridden too far off chasing those who had fled.
He had simply charged on and divided his forces in two, striking both the enemy left and center in the flank and rear. It was a bloodbath. The enemy left had disintegrated. It had partly consisted of levy from the Stormlands and Reach that had been forced into the line. These had all gone running to the hills when the charges connected. Some of the Golden Company had also fled, although most had formed a circle to and fought off everyone on every side. It would only be a matter of time before they were brought down.
The Dornish center had reacted differently. Prince Oberyn and some of his lords had managed to construct another spearwall to meet his charge, yet on impact it had still shattered. The backlines were in complete chaos as Northmen and Dornishmen were locked sometimes in hand to hand combat.
He had just finished off an enemy from House Vaith, when suddenly cries came that the Red Viper was dead. This, in combination with the encirclement, seemed to break the spirit of the Dornish and soon many of them started surrendering. The nail in the coffin was the sight of the Vale cavalry victorious on the other side and preparing to charge the right of their army.
He quickly reorganized parts of his squadron, finding Dom and Roose Ryswell and their retinues in the process. The latter had a big bruise on the right side of his head but seemed unharmed otherwise. He also seemed to have changed horses, although that wasn't really surprising in a battle like this.
Having gathered a few hundred horsemen, he rallied them towards the enemy archer line. However, before his charge could connect, they were finally met by the enemy reserve. He saw the banners of House Connington and Targaryen fly in the air towards them. The figure of 'Aegon' could clearly be seen in his black Targaryen armor. It was made even more obvious by the two figures in white riding next to him.
He had no more time to think about it, as soon the sides cashed. He deflected a swing from an axe on his shield and parried a sword with his own as he rode through the enemy's ranks. He purposely didn't ride towards 'Aegon' and his banner. Robb had no use for him death after he recklessly faced the opposing Kingsguard.
He slashed, hacked and rode his way through the enemy side. His trusted direwolf, Winterfell guards and friends were all at his sides. Robb had entrusted him with a very strong retinue, knowing that he would be a target in this battle. Among them were some of his honor guard, their mutual friends. Most notably Ser Lucas Blackwood and Robin Flint, whom had fought with him during his campaign in the Westerlands.
He fought his way through the fighting in a haze, not thinking about anything except the next weapon coming his way. None of his enemies seemed familiar, as he didn't care for any of the Golden Company men and none of the Westerosi seemed important enough for him to care. That all changed when he suddenly came eye to eye with one of the white cloaks. He glanced around him, but 'Aegon' couldn't be seen anywhere.
The man in front of him saw him look and grinned. "His Grace is not here, he sent me to finish you off while he wins the battle."
He looked the man over in confusion. He had sky blue eyes and a strong jaw. A close-cropped beard showed under his half-helm and a cocky grin decorated his mouth. However, those eyes showed a fiery determination to his objective.
"Win the battle? How would he do that? Half his army has already surrendered! The Reachmen and Stormlanders are gone and the Dornish are throwing down their weapons in droves. The only ones that remain are his sellswords but they are surrounded and heavily outnumbered. Give up now and my brother will let you live." He responded.
This seemed to both shock and enrage his opponent. "My countrymen would never surrender! Prince Oberyn would rather die than surrender our cause!" He screamed, as he rode towards him.
He quickly deflected the angry swing with his shield, before replying. "Aye, that's why they are only surrendering after he was killed. Your Martell prince is dead, and so will you be if you continue this folly."
This seemed to throw the man off and he used it to lift his leg, making him lose balance. The white knight fell from his horse in the mud but got up quickly. "Lies! Prince Oberyn would never lose to someone like you!" He kept denying his words, as he attacked him again.
He turned his horse to meet the charge with his shield, deflected the enemy's attacks. "I didn't kill him, some of my countrymen did. Who is he to you anyway?" He figured the man was Dornish, but he didn't have enough knowledge about Dornish swordsmen to know any that could be considered for a white cloak.
"My name is Ser Daemon Sand, son to Ser Ryon Allyrion the heir to Godsgrace. Former squire to Prince Oberyn Martell and knighted by him. Knight of the Kingsguard of His Grace Aegon Targaryen and personal shield to his future wife, Princess Arianne Martell." The man proudly proclaimed, as he regained his composure for another set of attacks.
Well that explained it. The man was personally tied to Prince Oberyn and House Martell, that meant this could get ugly. Just as he tensed his muscles for the upcoming charge, he saw a flash come up from his right. He quickly turned and brought his sword up in reflex. Steel clashed on steel and although he was able to stop the blow from splitting him in two, he still lost his footing and barreled over the side of his horse towards the ground.
He jumped back to his feet and discarded his shield, as the rider approached him. He never made it though, as Ser Lucas Blackwood rode behind him and hit him on the back of the head with his Morningstar. The enemy knight was dead before he hit the ground. Another lancer tried to do the same but was soon taken down by Ghost, who was now in the process of tearing the man's throat out.
He quickly turned back to Ser Daemon, who had already run at him. He parried his first, second and third blows. He sidestepped, dodged and blocked swing after swing. The knight was indeed good, as he could get no real counterattacks in. However, the man was also fighting with rage. An old lesson from Ser Rodrik ran on repeat in his head. "You fight with your head, not your emotions. They will get you killed on the battlefield!"
He hoped that his old master-at-arms was right. He dodged another swing to his right, blocking the follow-up underhanded swing. He managed to lock swords together with the Dornish knight, both cross-guards pushing against each other. Now it was time for him to strike back.
He punched the man square in the face with his mailed fist and stepped back, allowing his sword to go free. Immediately, he followed this up with an underhanded swing aimed at the man's side. The knight managed to block it with his shield, but the momentum was his now. He pushed forward, bashing his shoulder against the shield and twisting aside aiming a swing at his head. The swing was blocked and pushed back, but he wouldn't back down now.
He attacked the man relentlessly. Swings and cuts from all direction flew toward him. The white cloak managed to block most, but he managed to nick his upper thigh with one of his attacks. Still, the Dornish knight fought on.
"Surrender! You have lost this battle already, you don't have to lose your life as well!" He screamed, as he aimed an overhead slash at the knight's head.
"Never!" The man grunted. "I will avenge the prince and bath in your blood tonight." He responded, as the blow was blocked.
They went back and forth once more, until he finally saw his opportunity. He feinted to the right and then ducked immediately. At the same time, he swirled his sword under the shield that came up to block his feint. He added his left hand to the pummel of the sword and stabbed forward as hard as he could. The sword punched hard against the man's plate armor. Not hard enough to pierce through it, as it was made from excellent steel, but more than enough to obviously hurt the knight.
He ignored the sharp pain in his arms from the thrust and brought his sword up, battering the man's shield until he let his guard down from the pain. Then he went for it, he knocked his sword out of the way in a sideways swing and aimed a backhanded swing for the knight's throat. The blow connected ripping through muscle and flesh like it was nothing. The knight immediately fell down as blood spurted out of his neck. He dropped his sword and tried to stop the wound from bleeding with his hands, but it was too late. He had cut the major artery.
He looked on the dying knight with pity and sadness. Such a useless death … "I will make sure that your bones are brought to your father's home in Dorne." He told the man, who looked up at his words. The Dornishman nodded, something coming close to thankfulness in his eyes. Then the man's hands gave out and he died within moments.
He took a moment to recover his breath, as he leaned on his sword and looked around. He saw that his friends and guards had managed to keep most of the enemies away from him. The fighting was hard, but it was obvious reinforcements had arrived when he had been locked in his duel. He saw Vale and Riverlander knights in the distance on both sides and knew the fight would be over soon.
He looked around and saw the Targaryen banner not far from him. He walked over towards it, only having to hamstring a single Martell man-at-arms on his way there to reach it safely.
There he saw how Lord Flint and his two sons, together with Ser Donnel Locke and Robin Flint, were fighting the Pretender and his remaining Kingsguard knight. He could see how the knight wounded one of the Flints, before being pressed hard by Robin and Ser Donnel. Lord Flint and the other son quickly attacked 'Aegon' together. Despite Blackfyre, the young man was doomed. After cutting Lord Flint with it, the sword was knocked out of his hand by the son. After the fact, he was brutally kicked into the mud.
A similar thing happened with his protector. He went for a vicious attack on Robin, who barely managed to block the blow. However, the opening he left in his defense was enough for the heir to House Locke. He stabbed the man right under his armpit, in the weakness of his armor. By the time that he pulled the sword out, the white knight was already dead.
Lord Flint ignored his wound and picked up Blackfyre. "Our king will love this gift." He spat at the Pretender as he lay in the mud. He looked around and screamed, as he trust Blackfyre into the air. "Your precious king is captured and his Kingsguard is dead. Surrender now or join them with your guts spilling in the mud!" The experienced lord shouted. Soon the cry was taken up by dozens of men all over the battle. Not much later, the sounds of metal fallen on metal could be heard as the enemy surrendered in mass.
Still he could hear fighting, nearing them as he walked up to Lord Flint greeting him with a nod. There he saw Jon Connington hacking and slashing his way towards 'Aegon'. "Surrender!" His men shouted. "Never, I will never surrender to scum like you!" The Stormlander shouted aggressively, as he swung his sword in all directions.
He ran forward towards it and caught one of his reckless swings on his sword. "And will you surrender to me?" He simply asked, as he pulled his helmet off.
At the sight of him, the knight stepped back in shock. His sword clattering to the ground. Men moved in to detain him, but he stopped them with a hand gesture. After a few moments, Connington looked back and forth between him and the Pretender in the mud until he finally relented.
"Yes, I will surrender to you." 'Aegon's Hand of the King responded in a defeated tone as he went to his knees. "Forgive me, Jaehaerys. Please Rhaegar forgive me for fighting against your son."
He said nothing in response, but still took pity on the knight. He had lived for a decade in the lie that he had been helping Rhaegar's son take back his birthright. His mission had eventually driven him to clash swords with Rhaegar's actual son and it seemed to have broken him. The veteran Stormlander refused to look up from the dirt, as he kept asking for forgiveness from his long death prince and friend.
He walked away, greeting the nearby nobles and taking control of the situation in the aftermath of the bloody battle. It seemed a few hundred Golden Company men were still resisting, but Robb was dealing with them by making his archers focus fire in their ranks.
As he checked on his guard and tried to organize the wounded on this part of the field, the battle ended. He soon met Robb, as they raided the enemy camp. Robb had been so smart as to send Harmond Umber to take control of it. This had resulted in the capture of Varys. The Spider was safely locked away for now, awaiting Robb's judgement like the rest of them.
Many captives were made, hailing from almost all Dornish houses. Most notably were Lords Yronwood, Fowler, Gargalen and Manwoody. Many Dornish nobles had also fallen in the battle. A list of them would soon be drawn up. Hundreds of Golden Company men had also thrown down their weapons. Heated debate was to come on what they would have to do to them.
Still, the great victory had come at a cost. Another important Riverlander noble had died in Lord Darry, who left but a single son and heir in Riverrun. His family nearing extinction. Blackwood and Piper cousins had also been slain, together with the heirs to Houses Terrick and Ryger. From the Vale, Lords Donniger and Tollet were the most notable losses, among many lower ranked knights.
The North hadn't been spared either. Ser Helman Tallhart had died, already sparking a succession discussion by neighboring houses like Glover and Ryswell on whether his brother or daughter should succeed him. Another Ryswell cousin had also died, together with members from lesser branches of Houses Slate, Woolfield, Ironsmith and Lake.
Luckily none of their friends had been lost, although some had been wounded during the fighting. As he strolled back into their camp, most men still looked weirdly at him due to his armor and revealed ancestry. Yet, something had changed from the night before. Next to weariness, he could see respect and something else. When he said as much to the Karstark brothers, they simply laughed at him.
"What had you expected Jon? One night it is revealed to the whole army that you are the son and possible heir to our sworn enemy from the last two generations. The next day it is your charge that breaks the enemy's flank and forces the Dornish to their knees. On top of that you regroup parts of your men and annihilate their reserves. Single-handedly killing one of the enemy's Kingsguard in the process and managing to get Connington to surrender like a crying seven-year-old girl, while your men capture your supposed half-brother. Half these men are scared to death of you, either of your family tree or your achievements."
"Aye, and don't forget your little stunt before the battle that got their whole cavalry flank to flee. That act won us the battle before it even started." Harrion added.
He had simply stared at his friends at that response. "Scared of me?" He had brought out confused. At this, Torr had rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Seriously, Snow? You have been walking around with an overgrown wolf the size of a pony for the last two years! A snow-white beast with blood red eyes that NEVER EVER makes a bloody sound. People have been scared of you from long before the army even reached the Riverlands. What's your big surprise now?"
He looked over to Ghost at that. His companion seemed to agree with Torr, proudly walking beside him at the idea of scaring all the two-leggers. Although he couldn't shake the feeling that Ghost hadn't appreciated being called a 'beast'.
The Karstark brothers looked weirdly at the silent interaction between him and Ghost but said nothing. Still, it seemed like they were picking up on his link with the direwolf and not for the first time. He would have to talk with Robb about it, they were his brothers-in-law after all. Now he would just go to sleep. He was exhausted.
This is it for this chapter!
We get the final showdown between Robb/Jon and (F)Aegon.
Robb uses Jon and his ancestry to its fullest effect, resulting in the flight of most Stormland and Reach houses abandoning (F)Aegon.
Jon charges the Northern cavalry in the whole in the defense, breaking the army. Oberyn Martell, Obara Sand, Daemon Sand and Rolly Strickland die in heroic fashion. (F)Aegon, Connington, Varys and some of the Golden Company leaders are captured.
Jon's reputation skyrockets, as his warging becomes more visible to those closest to him and Robb.
I think this chapter features the most detailed one on one fighting up until now, what did you think of it? It wasn't easy to write.
Thank you for your support!
Fannic
Reviews:
- Kezz 1: Thank you!
- J.E.P 1996: No problem. Hope he laid it hard enough on them for you? You guessed right, they did "fade into the wood works".
- MasterOfDragonsGod: You're welcome!
- Rebfan90: Thank you!
- Finkarhu: You're welcome!
- LectorHistoria: Most of the infantry was forced back into the line by the experienced commanders there. However, the loss of the entire flank of cavalry (2000-2500 men?) was a major loss nonetheless! Jon is a more than skilled swordfighter and he was protected by some of the North's best swords and a direwolf. He won't be taken down easily. Ramsey will be mentioned in the future, but for the moment he has no strength to do anything more than light insignificant raiding.
- Supremus85: Thanks! Exactly, they aren't. That's why I wrote them! :P The story isn't as black and white for the whole North as some might portray it, but Houses like the Umbers only lost while others like the Manderlys partially gained from it. However, the Umber/Karstark frame of reference has significantly influenced Robb and the Manderlys will be delighted with trade from Braavos and the Vale so he has no dissent to worry about.
- Kingmaneana: Thank you, hope you liked it.
- TheNiemand: Thank you so much! Not a third of the army, only like 3k men (2.5k cavalry + archers). Although, it $ also played a part in the eventual rout of the enemy's left flank infantry.
I don't see Dorne doing much to be honest. The Stormlands will be allies to the North and they are in between both of them. Dorne has no real navy to circumvent it and their losses have been huge in both numbers and nobility.
I have seen the idea of selling ice multiple times, mostly in rather unrealistic fanfics, but I don't see the practical implications of the idea. In summer it would be impossible to transport, as it would be on ships for days and before that on roads for weeks/months. Maybe if you explain me a detailed plan on how to do it?
- Darthwolf: He didn't see it coming …
- OneDocToHealThemAll: Thanks! I did a lot of research for this chapter (rereading things etc.).
- Anindhitania238: I get that … as will all of Dorne. However, they lost their chance at revenge here.
- Galwidanatitud: Thank you!
- Force Smuggler: Thank you! I was waiting to show the dramatic reveal haha
- LordRhyolith: Thank you for the kind words!
- Wolflord456: By proving himself in this battle against a (fake) Targaryen, he will have regained their respect. The huge target was a thing yes, but he is an excellent swordsman with a direwolf and a brother who had given him a great detachment of guards. Yes, Oberyn had to do something impulsive or leave haha! Catelyn's reaction will be postponed a lot, but it will be shown. How do you think I handled Oberyn, Connington and Jon here?
- Minatom: I answered in PM.
- Iacopo Passerini: Thank you! I do my best.
- Greatazuredragon: No, he didn't! Thank you very much.
- The1WriterFormerlyKnownAs: Yes, I am. I have just been busy so updating has somewhat slowed. I will finish it in the next couple of months.
- Stevem1: Thank you so much!
- Jet: Thank you for the kind words! You're right. He would either need Dany or it would be close with hundreds/thousands more dying and an extra 10 chapters. For me the show ruined all StarkxDany alliances so I won't do any of that. The Night King has just become a bore at this point. I have never seen a fanfic were Westeros loses against them. So, I would just be writing for the sake of who would die, not what would happen and I don't find it interesting for either the writer or the reader so I have decided to remove the plot altogether.
- Guest: You're welcome! Thank you for the wonderful review. The story still has some ways to go. Daenerys, the Lannisters, the Reach, the Ironborn, the wildlings, … all of those plots will still need completion. I also promise both a conclusion and multi-chapter epilogue, which means we still have 15+ chapters to go. I'm also looking forward to more world building and not only war after this.
