Chapter 60: Dragonfire

301 AC

Robb

He looked over the terrain in front of him. Last night's light snow had mostly melted, but the whole area was still filled with slush. Some parts of the ground were still half-frozen from the winter cold and none enjoyed standing here like this in a half-frozen, wet wasteland in the middle of the Stormlands. Yet, it was exactly the weather he had hoped for. The colder and wetter the ground, the less chance of a repeat of the Field of Fire.

The cold winter air caressed his cheeks as he looked over the fields. The battle lines were drawn up and battle could commence at any minute. It was the silence before the storm. The one minute were all an experienced warrior could hear was his own heartbeat. A moment when time seemed to slow and everything else was blocked out. A time of peace before all the carnage and misery that would soon be unleashed.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and thought about how his daughter looked like in his mind's eye. When he opened them again, he exhaled the air out of his body. He was ready. This was what he was supposed to do. If he won here, the Targaryen threat of Westerosi unity would finally be over.

He sat safely on a hill with the reserve cavalry, as always. He had adopted the technique a while back from Tywin Lannister and he needed to admit it had his advantages. In battles like the Whispering Wood or Oxcross it was necessary and helpful to lead from the front. Yet, in open pitched battles the tactical benefits of overlooking the battle were enormous. It had saved him the day at Atranta and assured his victories ever since.

His army had also been organized in his favorite style. Three great blocks of infantry with cavalry on the sides and reserves behind. The only difference were his archers. Normally, he would have them in the front or on the hills and they would fall back behind his lines after the enemy advanced most of the way. This gave them a clear line of fire and baited the enemy into attacking into his position. Today, everything was different. They were fighting dragons. As such, he had scattered large groups of archers all throughout their position, even within his own reserve unit. They had had clear instructions to always prioritize the dragons, whatever the situation or orders may be. If possible, they should aim for the rider. If not, they aimed for the eyes, mouth, wings or soft underbelly.

Of these dragons there was no sign. So, he just looked over the troops. His units stood fully disciplined in their positions. The left cavalry was commanded by his brother, with Domeric as his skillful second. The left infantry block consisted of his veteran Northern soldiers. The Greatjon once again having the honor of command. He had chosen the same men to help him as at the God's Eye. His brother Rodrik and Lord Flint would do well in the position, even if it had led to some jealousy among their peers. Both men had proven themselves and he would not change things simply to satisfy the pride of some of his nobles.

In the center stood the Valemen, proud and unyielding. They were nominally commanded by Lord Arryn, but real command lay as much with him as it did with Lord Templeton, Lord Redfort and Ser Morton Waynwood. On the right were positioned the Stormlanders and Rivermen under the command of Ser Brynden. He usually took command of some form of cavalry, but he needed someone to keep the Riverlanders together and he would follow orders just fine. No one would question his authority either. He was aided by Lords Morrigen and Bracken.

The right cavalry was commanded by Ser Andar Royce. It consisted of most of the Vale and Stormlander cavalry. Behind their lines in different groups stood his artillery. Overall command of them was given to Ser Wylis Manderly, yet local commanders would have a certain amount of autonomy when the battle started.

Finally, his reserve infantry was once again commanded by Lady Mormont. She had never failed him and wouldn't start now, that much he knew. For the first time since long, opposition had been voiced against her command. It had come on the premise of her sex, of course, even if her status as head of only one of the smaller houses also played against her. As his army's composition turned more and more Southern, so did the discussions in his command tent. However, her achievements had waived all opposition off the table in the end. Lady Maege had helped save his line at Atranta, had impeccably hammered the Lannisters at the God's Eye and had quite literally driven the nail in the Golden Company's coffins with her mace against the Pretender. He would be damned before giving command to some self-absorbed Stormlander over her.

He looked at the enemy composition and saw nothing he hadn't expected. The unsullied stood in the center, a giant block of discipline in a sea of chaos. On both sides stood her freedmen. In some parts, their battle line looked more like a half-organized mob than an army ready to advance. He saw how some mercenaries, Golden Company or otherwise, were intermingled on the flanks. Probably to try and construct at least some form of order on which the freedmen could base themselves. On their right, a small cavalry force could be seen. Their right was open, as she probably didn't have enough horses to put them on both flanks.

As the Esssoi didn't use banners, he had to guess who commanded where. Although, if he had to make an assumption, he would say her unsullied general commanded the center, while sellsword captains commanded her flanks and the cavalry. The reserve he would have put in the hands of Ser Barristan. As he could see a full white banner flanking the Targaryen one in the back, he assumed he was right there at least.

As he looked over the plains, enemy trumpets started shouting. So, it begins. The enemy started walking forward in the exact manner one would assume it to do. The center marched with terrifying discipline. The sound of their boots audible across the fields as they all marched in the exact same rhythm. This was in great contrast with the freedmen, who walked towards them as if they were two hordes of wildlings.

As they neared his lines, the freedmen held back. They wanted the unsullied to engage the center first. Ser Wylis made sure they were peppered by groups of archers from all sides on their way, but every time a man went down another simply took his place. Their discipline was frightening, as they looked like they had no feeling of self-preservation whatsoever. He thanked the gods for their light armor because otherwise they would have been near impossible to kill. Now, a well-aimed arrow, sword or dagger would do the trick.

Right before they reached the line, Essos' former slave soldiers threw hundreds of throwing spears at his line with practiced ease. The Valemen had been warned about this and most got their shields up in time. Even so, the damage still looked severe with multiple small holes forming in the first few lines. The Valemen wasted no time and new men quickly ran forward and plugged the holes. A second volley was thrown, after which the Essosi soldiers marchedforward.

After the center had been engaged, the freedmen charged wildly into his flanks. Here the toll of his archers could clearly be seen. Yet, nothing stopped their frenzied charge. His troops took it right on the chin, after spearwalls had been expertly formed on both sides. As the charge subsided, both broke ranks and a real melee commenced on both flanks. He could see the sellsword pushing themselves towards the front line, clearly intend on stabilizing it.

All was going well for his army and he knew both cavalry forces would soon start to flank their forces. He didn't have to wait long before the familiar horns were sounding across the valley. Jon's force immediately charged towards the enemy cavalry, while Ser Andar was moving around the enemy force from the right side.

Suddenly, a roar could be heard from above and it was soon followed by two others. Three dragons arose from the tree lines behind the battlefield. To his shock, they flew in some kind of v formation. The largest dragon was in the front and a small figure could be seen on its back. The dragons wasted no time and quickly dove towards Ser Andar's force.

He knew what was going to happen before it did. It was brutal. Every beam of fire killed dozens of horses and their riders. Yet, that wasn't even the deadliest part. Due to the fire, hundreds of horses started throwing of their riders, running away to all corners of the battlefield. Hundreds of men were trampled by their horses before his eyes and no one could do anything about it. The rest of the cavalry force was in complete disarray and with one look he could see it would take a while before anyone could order them back into a line or charge anywhere.

The dragons didn't seem to care at all. The big dragon, Drogon she had called him, flew down once he stopped breathing fire. He snatched multiple riders up with his teeth or claws like they were nothing, before taking to the skies again. The screaming bodies of the unfortunate men could be heard and seen as they were dropped from eighty feet high back down amongst their comrades.

The dragons never looked back and flew further along towards his backline. It was only now that he realized that all his men had also been staring at the horrifying scene unfolding in front of them.

"Be ready men! Archers prepare to shoot, and soldiers be ready to dose any fires with the buckets and reservoirs of water all around you! HOLD STEADY!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. As one, his forces snapped out of it and started doing as they were told.

As the dragons flew towards them, all eleven trebuchets fired their stone ammunition towards them with terrifying might. He only now realized his folly ever even using them. Their projectiles were not accurate enough and the dragons saw them coming from a long way out. They avoided them like it was nothing more than a game to them. The only benefit was that around half of them landed in her army's backlines.

He had read that the smaller Targaryen dragons had been nimbler than the war beasts Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters had ridden, but he had never expected this. They flew over the edge of his right infantry line and the biggest one let loose another breath of fire. This time, he was answered by over a hundred arrows and the attack quickly stopped as the dragon climbed higher to escape the projectiles.

It had shrieked like it was in pain, even though it didn't seem seriously wounded. However, it had done enough damage to save his right flank. As he looked upon his troops, he could see only two or three dozen had been burned by the fire and they were quickly doused with the help of the water spread between their lines.

It felt like a small victory, as his right could have been in as much disarray as their counterparts on horseback by now. There was no time to celebrate though, as the black dragon had regained control and all three dragons were once again flying towards him.

At that moment, the first of the ballistae let loose of their projectiles. Around twenty footlong arrow shafts flew through the air. The dragons swerved out of the way, multiple of them barely missing their targets. Only one of them fit its target. One shaft grazed the back of the cream dragon, but he seemed unfazed by it.

The dragons did change course. Daenerys obviously recognized the danger and turned towards the ballistae that had just fired. She fell upon them like an expert huntress would on her prey. None of the ballistae had time to reload and soon all of them were engulfed in flames. The flames had a mixture of colors. He could see black, yellow, red, orange and pale gold all mixed together.

The crew tried to run for their lives, while they were burned alone. Their only protection came from a group of archers nearby. They shot a volley at the dragons, managing to hurt the green one sufficiently enough for it to climb back towards the skies. The other two kept on with their carnage. The black one turning its ire towards the archers, many perishing in a matter of seconds.

Yet, the dragons had stayed somewhat stagnant in the air whilst breathing their killing breaths. His other ballista crews and archers had used this moment to aim and fire dozens of arrows their way. A ballista shaft went through the wing of the great black dragon. The beast shrieked in pain and anger, turning around to look for the cause of his pain. Drogon climbed higher and higher out of accurate reach of his archers, until he dove down towards a group of five trebuchets and twelve scorpions.

The monstrous flying lizard breathed dragonfire, engulfing half of the weapons in dark, black flames. All the while, the cream dragon had fared less well. Two ballista bolts had gone through its left wing, while multiple arrows had found their marks all of over its body. The beast screamed in pain, as it tried to stabilize itself with its damaged wing. Luckily enough for it, the black one had proven enough of a distraction for it to get away.

Now the green one dove down once more, finishing of most of the siege weapons its larger brother had left untouched. It went to the skies once more, preparing to fly towards another group to set them aflame. He couldn't focus on it though, as the black one flew towards him. In shock, he realized what was going to happen. He grabbed his shield up from the ground next to him and held it up in the air.

Suddenly he was engulfed in a heat he had never felt before, but as soon as it had come it stopped. He found himself on the ground, as multiple people slapped something on him. Dazed and hurt he barely realized what was happening, until the unmistakable voice of Smalljon shouted and he was suddenly drenched to the bone in ice cold water.

He raised his head and saw his friend standing there with an empty bucket in his hand. Suddenly, Torr wkneeled by his side. "Robb, are you alright?" He shouted with concern.

He tried to stand up, in which he succeeded with difficulty. He looked upon the shield he had dropped in his fall, it was aflame and some of its metal band seemed to be melting. "What … happened?" He managed to breath out.

"The dragon tried to set you aflame. Just as it opened its mouth, a volley of arrows hit it. It scurried away for now. However, a small flame got you. We need to get you out of that armor, now! Before its cloth or metal burns too deep into your skin."

Still in a daze, he did as he was told. His friends quickly unbuckled the straps in his armor and threw it away. Most of it seemed fine, although part of its right side and shoulder seemed to be slowly melting. In shock, he realized his friends were cutting away his soaked tabard. When he looked towards his right shoulder, he realized why. The fabric on his upper arm and shoulder was burned and seemed to be going inside his flesh. They had to cut it out now the wound was still fresh.

Only when he saw it, he realized the excruciating pain coming from his shoulder, as the last of the daze faded away. His friends expertly cut away all of the cloth. Torr and Dacey got the last remaining pieces out of it with their daggers and Owen quickly pushed a heap of slushy snow and ice against it. The cold tempered the pain and he was finally able to look around. It seemed like one of his guards hadn't been as lucky as to survive the flames. A smoldering corpse lay only a few feet away from him.

He looked towards Torr and silently asked who it had been. His friend's face fell. "Ser Wendel …", he whispered slowly.

He swallowed heavily. Jon's mentor and a trusted friend gone in a single moment. Sudden grief threatened to engulf him. It would have, if not for Smalljon. The Umber heir lifted him up by grabbing him under his armpits and put him on his feet. "There is no time for any of that! Next time we'll all be dead if we don't do something about those dragons, NOW!"

He nodded meekly and looked around. The cream and black dragons were reorganizing themselves high in the sky, while the green was still terrorizing his artillery crews and archers. He saw multiple lines of scattered and blackened corpses spread across the fields from the flights it had taken. Yet, it was alone and isolated.

"ARCHERS, BALLISTAE SHOOT EVERYTHING YOU HAVE AT THAT GREEN DRAGON! DO IT NOW!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. Smalljon's booming voice took over the command and the words carried across the hills.

He saw groups of terrified archers knocking and releasing arrows, while ballistae bolts fired in from all angles. The dragon dodged the ballistae and angerly burned another dozen of his archers. He looked for another easy prey until the pressure of the arrows caused him to spread his wings as he desperately tried to gain height to get away from the dozens of arrows that kept coming at him from all sides.

It screamed loudly and from the corner of his eye, he saw the other two dragons quickly racing towards it. He suddenly realized the green dragon was screaming for help. It was losing.

Then it happened. Confused and distracted by all the arrows, it didn't see a ballista bolt coming. It hit it right in its belly and wedged itself deep between its scales. Its screech of pure agony that it led out went straight to the bone. It began to lose height, still engulfed in a rain of arrows. Most ricocheted of its scales, but dozens stuck into its wings or lodged itself between two scales.

Just as the black dragon with Daenerys on its back arrived, a second ballista bolt hit the green dragon in the chest. It knocked the dragon right out of the sky. It crash-landed in a wide arc some hundred feet further away. The black dragon screamed with rage that terrified every ounce of its body.

It flew down towards another grew of ballistae and burned most of them to the ground. In one fluent arc, it flew round and destroyed the remaining trebuchets. Its claws knocked off the top of one of the machines, its parts fleeing straight into some of his reserve troops knocking down dozens.

The dragon flew low, lower than it had done before as it came down with terrible precision on another group of his archers. The whole group scattered as more of their comrades were set aflame. At the same time the cream one harassed his reserves, as they threw spears at it to keep it at bay as it flew close.

Keeping its low altitude, the black dragon flew across his reserve infantry and left a path of death and destruction in its wake. His men were prepared enough to make sure the flames didn't spread anywhere and save their compatriots that had been on the edge of the fires. Yet nothing could be done for those directly hit by the fire. As it dove only twelve feet above the ground again towards a group of archers. He could hear the voice of Ser Wylis across the plain. "Aim for the rider! Shoot that dragon bitch out of the sky!"

The dragon passed over the group of archers with deathly precision, killing many amongst arrow fire from all sides. However, then the unthinkable happened. As the dragon once again gained height, a small figure fell from its back. It landed at the edge of the group of archers. Both beasts let out a cry of pain and fear, as they both raced towards the fallen body of Daenerys Targaryen.

The black one landed next to it. Breathing fire at every direction, scattering all men in its vicinity. His archers kept the cream one from landing as it sought for a safe way towards its mistress.

The black dragon raged and screeched. It pulled two soldiers in two with its claws, while another one was devoured between its black teeth.

All across the plain, men shouted for the remaining ballistae to reload and fire towards the monstrous beast. One bolt bounced off the scales of its back, while another fell just short. Still the dragon screeched, using its body to protect its mistress.

The cream one screamed too but couldn't land as more arrows found its way towards its wings. Then an enormous roar could be heard. He turned towards the black dragon and saw it had been hit in the leg by a ballista bolt. The dragon half rolled over, still protecting the underlying body with its scales. Then another one hit and a third and a fourth …

Amongst ground shaking roars and black fire, the great Drogon went down and its head hit the ground. Still, his enemies shot their projectiles. None wanted to take any risks, as the maw could still be seen to move. After five or six more bolts hit the dragon, they finally stopped.

The cream dragons screamed, as it tried to gain height. It looked towards the body of its fallen brother. When Drogon went down, he finally rolled away from his mistress. Both man and dragon could finally see the lifeless body of Daenerys Targaryen. She seemed to have fallen towards her death. The screech the cream dragon let out sounded more like pain and sorrow than anger and rage. It let out a huge flame of pale shot gold mixed in with orange and red and flew off towards the north.

None said a word, as it slowly flew out of sight. He looked over the carnage in his backlines. At least four hundred men were dead, hundreds more were wounded. Only thirty or so ballistae were still standing, while all of the trebuchets had been thoroughly destroyed. The only sounds that could be heard were those of dozens of men retching or outright throwing up after witnessing this horrible spectacle.

The shock, awe and fear were still visible on everyone's face. At last, it started to doom on him that they might have just been witnesses to the last charge of the race of dragons. Let us pray it was the last.

Suddenly, he realized he still had a battle to win. He looked towards the fighting. It seemed Jon had managed to destroy their right flank and was trying to charge down the unsullied, while their left still held firm. Parts of the Vale cavalry were still reforming, as he could also see many had fled the battlefield. Others in smaller groups had successfully charged off their archers. It seemed their reserves had already been committed and were now fighting alongside the mercenaries and unsullied against both his center and left infantry as well as his left cavalry.

"Smalljon!" He shouted. The Umber heir quickly strode over to him. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Take command of the reserve cavalry and charge around the right into their sides. I want you to mop up those freedmen with a charge that will inspire songs for the ages. Can you do that for me?"

The loyal giant grinned and nodded his head. "It shall be done." He ran over towards his horse and fluently jumped on its back. "YOU HEARD THE KING YOU LAZY FUCKERS! LET'S GO KILL THOSE ESSOSI SCUM! WHO'S WITH ME?" He bellowed. Hundreds of horsemen roared back in approval and soon they were off, all others following in order.

Lady Mormont and the heavy infantry soon ran after them, as they were ordered to strengthen and rotate the center of the line. After all they had seen, all seemed happy at the relatively easy task of fighting unsullied instead of dragons.

Some of his loyal guard stayed around him with Torr bringing him another tunic and some armor that had been taken from a fallen Riverlander knight. He looked over to where the body was laying, curious to see how he had died without his armor burning. In shock, he realized the man had been struck by an arrow in the face. He looked around and similar bodies could be seen scattered around the nearby fields.

The arrows that had been so direly needed to bring down the dragons had been shot in all directions. Dozens of his men had been killed by friendly fire. It was a small price to pay for two dead dragons and the end of Daenerys Targaryen, but it still saddened him to no end. These men hadn't needed to die. They didn't even die for their land or honor. They were simply struck down by a stray arrow from one of their allies whilst looking up at the scenes that had unfolded in the skies.

Grey Wind reemerged too. The Direwolf had ran from the dragonfire, knowing full well there was nothing he could have done to help. His companion tried to ease his pain by softly licking his arm and shoulder and he thankfully petted him on his giant head, simply glad that he was alright.

With the help of Torr and Ser Donnel Locke, he dressed himself. His shoulder hit like hell and the burn wounds were severe. His movement wasn't obstructed, so that was a good thing. Even though some of the wounds would perfectly heal, he knew immediately some of them would form scars he would have to carry for the remainder of his life.

He couldn't help but think it could have been much worse. He looked over towards the burned remains of his former friend. He wanted to drape his cloak over the body, but only now realized it had mostly burned away. His men must have doused the fire when he was still in a daze on the ground. Ser Donnel saw him look and unclasped his own cloak and put it over him.

"He was family to me, did you know that?" The knight reminisced aloud. "We were only distantly related through my grandmother, who was a Manderly, but we always got along well. Our lands border each other and we met often. He even brought young Jon along to Oldcastle once or twice. He was a good man. He convinced his father's cousin to knight me after I helped him with a bandit problem a decade back. He will be sorely missed."

"Aye," their small group replied. "I'll make sure his bones find his way home. It is what Lord Wyman will want." All of his companions agreed with the idea and none said another word.

He looked over the fields and to his shock, he saw Ser Wylis ride over towards them on his horse after directing most of the archers towards the fighting. The knight stopped alongside him. "Your Grace, are you alright? Why aren't you leading the charge?" He looked him over. "And if I may be so blunt, what are you wearing? I must say that Riverlander surely isn't your style."

He forced himself to muster a small smile at that, but it wasn't a sincere one. "The dragon came down upon us. It almost got me. I got burns across my arm and shoulder, but I'll manage. Yet, I don't wish to lift anything with that arm for the moment, not even Ice. Smalljon has command of the reserve."

"You were hit by dragonfire?" The heir to White Harbor asked.

He nodded. "You survived it? That is not a tale many will be able to tell." The knight grinned, trying to lift the mood. After all, he had had command of the ballistae and archers that had taken down those dragons.

It was his task to break the horrible news. "Ser Wylis, I am sorry to tell you just how right you are. Your brother was standing next to me when the dragon flew down. He … he didn't make it." He told him, as he waved at the body under the Locke cloak.

The fat knight's eyes went wide. "No, no … you can't mean? Wendel? NO!" The man exclaimed, as he jumped off the horse. He lifted up the upper part of the cloak and recoiled at the sight of his brother's charred remains. He fell back into the dirt. "We-Wendel? That, that is what's left of my brother? My little brother? He's dead?" The grown man howled, pain and anguish strewn across his face.

Without saying a word, Ser Donnel simply clasped the man in a bear hug. The proud Manderly heir wailed for his brother then, uncaring about anyone or anything. He knew how he felt. The day he had been told about his father's death something had broken inside of him. Yet, that was only after already knowing of his wound and capture. He wouldn't know what he'd do if Jon, Bran or Rickon were to die out of nowhere.

He walked over to his loyal vassal and put a hand on his shoulder. "You didn't know it at the time, but you have already avenged him. You brought both her and her dragon down. Wendel would be proud of you." He told the knight, who was twenty years his elder.

Ser Wylis followed his eyes to the corpses of both Daenerys and her dragon Drogon. He nodded in thanks, as he let go of Ser Donnel. "I will still wet my blade in the blood of her subjects before the day is at an end." He growled.

"Join the front line, if you wish. You have done more than enough. It's partially because of you that I'm still standing here. If you have need for additional revenge, you have my leave to go and claim it."

The Manderly heir looked at him with gratitude and grim determination in his eyes. Without saying a word, he climbed back on his horse and rode towards the line. Ser Donnel looked conflicted at his distant kinsman. "Go', he simply told him. "Make sure he doesn't get himself killed. House Manderly doesn't need to lose two of its sons today."

The Locke heir bowed and ran for his horse, quickly galloping after Ser Wylis. He looked at the two horsemen as they rode away and saw how Smalljon's charge was in the process of wrapping up the entire enemy left. He looked over towards his friends and protectors. "I should be there when their lines collapse or are encircled. The army needs to see me as we finish this."

All of them looked at him in doubt, but none contradicted him. Olyvar brought around his horse and helped him get on it without using his burned shoulder or arm too much. His loyal squire attached Ice to the saddle of his white destrier and all of his friends mounted up as well.

Together, they rode on towards the fighting. When they arrived, both enemy flanks had been destroyed. Some eight thousand or so enemies were still fighting on in a single group. Half of them looked to be unsullied, their spear lines expertly protecting their rear and parts of their sides. The others were a mixture of freedmen and mercenaries. They doggedly fought on, which surprised him until he saw who led them. Ser Barristan could be seen on the front line, hacking his way through Valemen soldiers.

After assessing the situation, he quickly took control. He ordered the cavalry to pull back and simply cut off the enemy's avenues of retreat. Their charges into the walls of spears were too costly. The charges did have an effect, but the unsullied neither moved nor panicked. They didn't care how many died, they just fought on. This meant that all horsemen who penetrated enemy lines were killed off soon after every time, no matter the damage tbey inflicted.

He ordered the archers to assemble all around the enemy position. When they were in position, he ordered the horns to sound for an orderly retreat. His troops disengaged in orderly fashion and came to a halt in a crescent formation some one hundred and fifty feet from the enemy. Both armies stared at each other, as they took the time to gather their breath.

"Your queen and her dragons are dead. Surrender now and you Essosi will be allowed to travel back towards Essos." A messenger on horseback shouted towards them by his instruction. The unsullied's answer came swift and there was no way to mistake their intent. A throwing spear hit the messenger's horse square in the flank. Horse and rider went down and as the horse lay dying, the latter scurried away towards the line when another former slave soldier stepped forward to aim his spear directly at him.

So, they chose death. He sadly thought. So much useless carnage and all that for a dead girl's pride and ambition. He sighed and gestured for the hornblowers to blow the signal.

From every direction, archers let loose in one terrifying volley. At least two thousand arrow shafts flew through the air. There was no safe place to hide, no way to turn your shield to block them all. All around their formation, enemies were killed. When a second volley flew through the air, the army advanced. They abandoned all positions and charged right towards his royal standard in a mad dash to still secure victory.

Hundreds dropped in the time it took them to reach his lines. On the front they were awaited by the cream of his army, which had protectively positioned themselves in front of him. Lady Maege's heavy infantry had formed up together with the toughest fighters from both the North and the Riverlanders and a huge battle broke out.

He could see Ser Barristan, spearheading the charge with a group of unsullied and they cut through his line like a knife through butter. Their rear lines were decimated by his archers and any stragglers were ridden down by Jon's cavalry, but those at the front charged like beasts possessed. Most were stopped in their tracks by his elite infantry, but the famed knight still pushed on. Next to him, he could see the Kingsguard eunuch that had been standing behind Daenerys at the negotiations yesterday.

As they got closer and closer, the group was engaged by his elite guard. The eunuch was engaged by Patrek Mallister and Ser Lucas Blackwood, while the unsullied were stopped by his heavy guardsmen. Still, Ser Barristan pushed on. He could see the knight was determined to die on this battlefield today. He just wanted to succeed in his mission and take him with him.

At last, after ending the lives of two more Stark guardsman prematurely, he was stopped by the combined efforts of Lady Mormont, Lord Umber and their heirs helped by Owen Norrey. No ordinary knight would even have lived long enough for it to be mentioned against those five, but Ser Barristan was no ordinary knight. He kept running around and dodging, so they couldn't use their full number against him.

He did manage in distracting his guard long enough for half a dozen unsullied to get through to him. Torr raced forward. and engaged one, flanked by Olyvar who stopped another. Their heavy armor quickly giving them the edge in the fight. The other four didn't care about their comrades. They had but a singular purpose: kill him. They had forgotten about one thing though, his direwolf.

Grey Wind growled loudly and jumped the unsullied from the side. One went down before they noticed what was going on, his throat ripped out with deadly precision. A second tried to stab him, but Grey simply squatted away the spear before biting off the man's arm and leaving his screaming form to bleed out. The other two went into stance, slowly walking away from each other in a wide circle to try and attack the direwolf from both sides.

His companion made a sound that suspiciously sounded like a scoff, before he bolted at the left one. He jumped on the high held shield, using his bodyweight to topple him over as he scratched and clawed apart the man's light armor. The right one looked between his companion and him and decided to make a charge for him.

He tried to turn his horse away, but it was too late. Grey help! His mind reached out and suddenly he could see through the direwolf's eyes. He saw the mauled remains of the Essosi soldier under him and could taste the metallic taste of his blood in his mouth. He quickly turned around and saw the Essosi advancing on his body, limply swaying on top of his horse. Safe him now, all his instincts screamed.

He wasted no second and attacked. It took him only two jumps before he hit the unsullied soldier in the rear. By instinct, his teeth went around his neck from behind and he broke it right through. He let the lifeless body fall through his teeth and looked up. He felt his tongue hang out of his maw, as he panted from the exertion. He looked upon his body and wished himself back there.

Suddenly his eyes opened. He could see the form of Grey Wind closely in front of him, arched over a death Essosi soldier. His tongue was hanging from his mouth and both shared a look. He nodded at him in thanks and the wolf just shrugged as if to say: "do it any time you need".

By now all unsullied soldiers were taken care of or engaged too thoroughly for them to advance again. Torr and Olyvar ran back to his sides, the latter wearily glancing at Grey Wind and the carnage around him.

He looked back to the legendary fight in front of him. He could see how Ser Barristan had been wounded by an arrow in his left arm, probably before the fight ever started. Even lightly wounded, the man's sword still flashed quicker than his eyes could follow. However, his friends worked closely together. Every time he broke through one's defense, he had to pivot to block another's attack thereby never being able to finish one of them off.

That was until Dacey made a big mistake. With a twist of his wrist, Ser Barristan cut her across the forearm making her drop her mace. He swatted away Lady Maege's attack to protect her daughter and advanced on the heir of Bear Island. With horror, he could see the blade flash down. It would have killed her, if not for Owen Norrey. The man threw his body between them. His sword caught Ser Barristan's, but because of the angle and force behind it, it still hit home. The steel drove deeply into Owen's shoulder. The Hill Clansman went down heavily wounded and Dacey screamed it out.

However, the confusion Owen caused with the Kingsguard knight was enough for the Umber men to intervene. Smalljon's mailed fist hit the knight square in the face from the side, as his father's sword cut through the air in a deadly arc. Ser Barristan only barely dodged it, but he was still off balance. Smalljon's sword clashed with the elder knight and he pushed him back only for his father to try another overhead killing blow. This time, the opponent's sword came up to block it and the powerful blow simply shattered the knight's worn out sword.

The blow cut deep into his shoulder and the knight went to his knees. He could see how he said something to the Greatjon, but he couldn't hear it from this far. Ser Barristan let his head hang and Umber simply sidestepped, after which he pushed his greatsword through the opening in the armor under the man's armpit. So, died one of Westeros' most famous knights. He died with his sword in hand on the battlefield, as he tried to avenge his fallen monarch. It was a suitable death for a knight of his standing and order. A final deed to wash away the fact he had survived the Targaryens at the Trident, he imagined.

He rode over towards his friend, as the unsullied were now falling like flies. Their light armor was no match for experienced heavy infantry once their lines were broken and their momentum stopped. Dacey sat by Owen, who was bleeding heavily. Both Umber men simply pushed her out of the way, as they cut off Owen's armor and tunic.

Dacey tried to fight back, protecting Owen, but Lady Maege restrained her. "They need to close the wound, or he'll bleed out before the healers ever arrive." She told her daughter. This made her stop her struggling back, as she simply looked on towards the scene. "FIRE, I NEED SOME FUCKING FIRE HERE NOW!" The eldest Umber shouted.

Not much later, a guard brought a torch over towards them. While Smalljon restrained his lifelong friend, Greatjon put his dagger in the flames until it heated up. Once the blade was red hot, he walked over towards their wounded comrade. "Do it!" Norrey spit out weakly. "Put something in his mouth so he won't bite his tongue off." Greatjon ordered to no one in particular.

Olyvar came and pushed the shattered remains of an unsullied spear between his teeth. The Greatjon nodded. Stoically, he pushed the blade against Owen's shoulder. His scream cut through the bone, making many soldiers turn around towards the spectacle. The steel hissed against his flesh, but the wound closed.

"The rest is for the Maesters to work out, but now he at least has a chance." He told Dacey, as he cooled his dagger in a bucket of water before putting it away in its sheath.

He looked over the face of his friend, who had lost consciousness because of the pain. Please let him survive. He had lost enough friends already.

This is it for this chapter!

I think this is the longest single battle scene in this story (and it is not even completely over) and it will remain as such. The climax between Robb and Dany takes place and we see how Robb's preparations helped him in defeating the dragons. Dany set a trap for the cavalry on the flank, after which she charged straight at Robb. He angered her during the negotiations of Chapter 58. She wanted to prove him wrong and she wanted him dead. That was Robb's plan all along. He wanted her to rashly attack him, yet he had hoped the dragons could've been killed sooner. Robb barely survived the clash and will carry the marks Drogon left on his body until the end of his days. Yet, he is victorious in the end.

I hope you enjoyed the battle. I think it had everything I can write: cavalry charges, infantry battles, dragons, warging, artillery, archer positioning, a suicidal last charge, one-on-one combat, … Many important characters (almost) die in this battle and you see Robb dealing with another round of grief, more on that later. There are other casualties that Robb doesn't know about at this point.

The battle and its aftermath are a two-chapter episode, so most of your remaining questions will be addressed in the next chapter. It won't be from Robb's POV to give you another angle. Take this in mind. It is supposed to leave you on a cliffhanger with many questions! Sorry not sorry for that. ;-)

I have had some cultural and historical influences for this chapter. I put some references to them scattered in between. See if you can point any of them out? :D

Fannic

Reviews:

- MasterOfDragonsGod: You're welcome!

- Finkarhu: My pleasure!

- Supremus85: Robb's army is too big to fight anywhere except an open field. Besides, he could be starved out or sieged by her forces if he splits up and goes into a defensive keep or mountain or something.

- Kuman: Not really … he fought honorably for the Targaryens until he was out and almost died. When he had recovered, the Targaryens were dead and he chose to serve Robert who was a much better man than Aerys. After that, he loyally followed Joffrey even though he was a little shit. Joffrey dismissed him and he swore to Dany to repent for ever forsaking House Targaryen. Only flip flopped once, after the Battle of the Trident. After that they spit him out.

- Invictus Veritas: No, he will not take the Targaryen name. It's indeed a foolish idea.

Marrying one of Jon's daughters would also be foolish. It has been established the Targaryens have no legitimacy over the North at all. Marrying the daughter to his heir would counteract this by then decades old idea. It would also threaten rulers of other kingdoms who might think Robb will want to control the whole of Westeros.

It could have a dragon theme, but not necessarily. Thanks for the suggestion!

- George Christian810: I answered in PM.

- Force Smuggler: No, Jon is loyal to his brother and he knows Robb cannot give up his crown. Dany doesn't care about that. No matter how much they speak, they will never come to a compromise. Besides, Dany had heard about (F)Aegon AND Jon before she ever landed in Westeros. She did it anyway. Even after that, she never sought them out. She demanded that Lord Stark (Robb) came to her, not Jon. She has been told all her life it was only her and Viserys. With Viserys death, she was alone. Since then, she has reveled in her role as monarch. She will never compromise on that and she will never accept Jon throwing away her and her family's claim. The moment he helped destroy the Red Keep, the Iron Throne and the Targaryen family, he threw away the chance to talk to her about the future of House Targaryen in her eyes.

- Greatazuredragon: It was very bloody. The scale of exactly how bloody, will be clearer next chapter. Thanks for the suggestion!

- Clavyus: Thank for the suggestion.

- Cliff West: She was bluffing and trying to scare him. Robb called her bluff and one upped her with a threat of his own, which wasn't a bluff. She couldn't really react except actually attacking and breaking guest right is just … not an option.

- Toraach: I find it funny that you criticize characters after blatantly admitting that you skipped over all their character development. You also don't seem to grasp the clear nationalism woven into these kingdoms by GRRM of whom the Riverlands always had the least. They are a fractured people. Will they rebel from time to time? Of course, will they all do it together? No, never. Besides a lot can change in the mind of a people in two generations.

Many other points either show you only read the story diagonally or purposely chose to ignore things. E.g. the twenty Northern guards next to the Unsullied outside, so they would never be able to kill the direwolves.

- Galwidanatitud: He has grown into his own and he just wants to be done with everything and go home. He knows he'll either die or achieve this, there is no other way anymore.

- Kingmanaena: Thank you!

- Vastoisshin: Thank you! Small update about the ironborn next chapter. Yes, Euron's crazy magic side is still a thing, but the ironborn are weaker than in canon now. Even so, you can expect that crazy squid to still have an ace up his sleave.

- Rebfan90: Thank you!

- Yeaaaah I read: Very interesting, thank you! I'll look into it.

- Billy Reb: Thank you for the many suggestions.

- The gods wrath: Thank you so much for your dedication and taking the time to write a review! :-)

It warms my heart to read your kind words. I also thank you for the suggestion.

- Charly22salazar: Thank you for the suggestion.

- Foxy-Floof: Yes, there were a lot of confrontations. Dany is not known for her logic. Besides, in her mind she has dragons and that trumps everything else.

- The1WriterFormerlyKnownAs: It was clear in chapter 58 that she didn't. Battle was the only solution.

- Minatom: PM, as always. ;-)

- AJ Granger: Yeah, I had the same thing. More Stark family bonding, but still a little bit off.

- HarveyPorter: Thank you very much for the support, although it'd be better if we don't start cursing. I agree with you on the free time though, would be a blessing.

- Wolflord456: She is disgusted with him giving him up his claim and more so doing it for her too in name of their house. She sees him more as a competitor and a weak traitor than her nephew. Talking wouldn't make a difference and Jon recognizes that. He is also mad at how she treats Robb and is sick to death about another dictator telling them they should submit, blood relation or not.

- Bob: You might be right, although he was a lot bolder in his Dornish campaign were he burned dozens of keeps before anything happened to Rhaenys. During the Dance of Draogns AND the the revolt of the Faith Militant no dragons were hurt either, even if they were put more directly into battle. These dragons (except for when Balerion and Vhagar were again used) were smaller and the armies had better knowledge of them. Still, they burned everyone at Tumbleton and other battles. I think if the North did the same as Dorne, the Targaryens would have destroyed their supplies and stores in all their settlements, leading to a genocide through starvation. Torrhen did the right thing.

I don't agree with Ser Barristan. He was loyal to his oath to serve the Royal Family no matter what, including Aerys' insanity. He probably would have supported Rhaegar in overthrowing his father, but would never have gone against the Targaryens as a whole. When Ser Barristan turned all Targaryens except for Viserys and a pregnant Rhaella were dead and Stannis was preparing to take Dragonstone. Technically Robert was their closest relative and he had shown great chivalry by healing him after the battle. He stayed with Joffrey, because again oaths. It is clear that to Ser Barristan oaths are more important than morals. After he was dismissed, he tried to make up for him turning by giving his life and service to Aerys daughter. He lived as a disgraced squire when he met her out of shame that he hadn't been with her from the start.

Dany thought herself a new Aegon, she would never stay away from the ballistae. How do you think I handled it? Their small bodies made them more nimble and better able to dodge the bolts.

I think Tristifer IV Mudd is still above him, as are a few others like Aegon I (maybe Daemon Targaryen?). Yet, he is getting legendary status that's true.

- Guest1: Thank you for the suggestion.

- Guest2: Thanks!

- Guest3: Thank you! It is never explicitly stated that Maelys wielded Blackfyre. I find it weird that he would die wielding it without the sword being brought back by the victorious Westerosi. He most likely didn't have the sword. Drogon might be bigger than Caraxes when he is 50, although even that is not sure, but certaintly not now. Dragons were stunted because they didn't have enough freedom and were stuck in the dragon pit. Caraxes wasn't in the pit for most of his lifetime. He was in Runestone, Dragonstone or fighting on the Stepstones for at least his last 20 years and big parts before that. He wasn't stunted. One of the last who wasn't.