Jon VIII
Jon was one of the men the Greatjon had tasked with going into the Twins to take prisoner whichever Frey kin Ser Stevron asked them to. Gannon, the Stark guard Jon had trained, was one of the others who was picked. Gannon was chosen for the same reason many of the men were chosen, because they were tall and muscular. More likely to give pause to the Freys and their house guards.
They gathered in four columns, with Jon standing in front with the three Umber men.
"You alright Gannon?" Jon asked the man who stood behind him.
"I think so," Gannon replied, hands fidgeting.
"Shouldn't be much bloodshed," Smalljon said from his place next to Jon. "Doubt there will be too many disloyal guards, and even the Freys aren't dumb enough to go against this many men."
Jon wondered if any of those they were to take prisoner and send to the Wall were really deserving of such a thing. Then again, if Ser Stevron was the new lord of these lands then his word was law and if he declared his brothers and nephews were to be sent to the Wall, they were to be sent to the Wall.
The drawbridge was lowered over the moat. Standing on the other side were about twenty men wearing the twin towers of House Frey. Three of them looked like they were related to each other and must have been Freys. The one in charge was a wiry man in his early thirties with a black beard, who wore black armor under his white surcoat.
The lead Frey looked over the rows of northmen that stood in front of him before giving them a curt nod. "Follow me."
"Remember, we are to subdue members of House Frey without any bloodshed unless necessary," Greatjon said, looking back over the men who lined up behind him. "But there's no such restrictions on the guards." The last line was said with a vicious grin.
They were led into the eastern keep, into what Jon could only assume was the Great Hall of the Twins, as the room was almost as wide and long as the keep itself. Inside was already packed with probably close to a hundred people at the tables, each of them looking as tired as Jon felt, and another thirty guards that lined the walls. Many of the Frey men were without weapons, and none wore armor.
"Black Walder, who said you could let these northmen in?" a Frey with a lame leg shouted as he struggled to stand.
"I did!"
Ser Stevron entered the room flanked by six guards. He moved between the tables and rows of northmen, up to the table at the head of the room.
"Stevron, what is the meaning of this?" another Frey male with a bald head and a thin beard asked, standing as well. "Why were we summoned from our beds this early in the morning? Why are the northmen in our keep?"
Ser Stevron sat in the massive black oak chair that was reserved for the Lord of the Crossing and looked over his kin with a look that seemed to yell, "Finally!"
"Lord Walder Frey took ill last night," Ser Stevron said, "and unfortunately died in his sleep."
That brought an uproar from all those gathered. Jon watched as the various Freys turned toward each other to talk in hurried voices or shouted at Stevron. Not one of them seemed upset at the passing of the man who was the father, grandfather, or great-grandfather to them. Jon wondered if there were any who were going to mourn the passing of Lord Walder Frey.
"Bloody Freys," Smalljon murmured next to him.
Jon could only nod his head in agreement.
Unknown to the rest of the Freys in the room, Black Walder had instructed the guards with him to close the main doors off and let none through. Once that was done he began directing the northmen to stand near certain Frey men.
"I have taken my rightful place as Lord of the Crossings," Ser Stevron all but shouted, quieting down some of his noisier kin. "While father was content to see these halls filled with the lot of you, I have no such wish."
It got louder from there, and became violent when the northmen were instructed to grab the male relatives Ser Stevron wanted taken to the Night's Watch. Some of those men drew weapons and were quickly tackled as the northmen attempted to subdue them without major injury. A number of Frey guards stepped forward to defend certain men, but they were dealt with more forcefully than the Frey men themselves. While this was going on many of the other Freys were screaming and rushing about to try to escape the mayhem.
The entire time Jon, as he helped hold down the sword arm of a husky man with a square face and arms thick with muscle, had a sickening feeling in his stomach at what he was doing and who he was doing it for. He wondered what his father would think of Robb's decision to go along with this, and Jon's actions in assisting in it. In the end they bound the hands of twenty-one men of House Frey and the six members of the Frey guard who survived drawing their weapons to defend one of those twenty-one men.
In the end Ser Stevron was getting rid of half of his brothers and their eldest sons. Walder Frey's third son, Ser Aenys Frey. Aenys' two sons, Aegon "Bloodborn" and Rhaegar, as well as Rhaegar's son Robert. The fourth son, Ser Jared Frey and his son Ser Tytos, and then Ser Tytos' son Zachery. The sixth son, Ser Hosteen Frey and his son Ser Arwood. The seventh son Ser Symond Frey. The eighth son, Ser Danwell Frey. The ninth son, Merrett Frey and his son "Little" Walder, who was one of the two youngest. The eleventh son, Ser Raymund Frey. The twelfth son, "Lame" Lothar Frey. The thirteenth son, Ser Jammos Frey and his son "Big" Walder, the other of the two youngest. The fourteenth son, Ser Whalen Frey. Then there was the eldest of the bastard sons, Ser Walder Rivers, his son Ser Aemon Rivers, and another of the bastard sons, Martyn Rivers.
Big Walder and Little Walder were only nine years old. Their older cousins, Robert and Zachery, were both twelve. Jon had seen a boy as young as twelve when he was at the Wall a year ago, but nine seemed young. It would be years before they'd let those two say their vows.
After the bound men were forcefully escorted out of the room and any protest that was previously being voiced was silenced, Ser Stevron addressed his remaining kin.
"My father has ruled the Twins for sixty-eight years but the Seven have finally called him to their side. This is a new age for the Twins. The North is marching to break the siege of Riverrun and House Frey marches with them. Gather the supplies and ready the men. I will not be known as the Late Lord Frey."
Thirty minutes later and Robb was inside the Great Hall talking with the new Lord of the Crossings working out the finer details. Fifty northmen would march the twenty-seven men to the coast of the Bite, just south of the Neck, where a ship from White Harbor would pick them up and bring them to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Robb would have a raven sent to Lord Manderly advising him of such. Ser Wendel would stay with an additional fifty men at the Twins and await for Lord Karstark and his host, as well as the return of those fifty men on escort duty. Lord Karstark and his men would be allowed to cross the Twins on the way to Riverrun.
House Frey would leave five hundred men to garrison the Twins. Ser Stevron, along with the majority of the remaining Freys, who were mostly female, would also stay. The Frey cavalry, seven hundred and forty-three horses, would join with Robb's to ride onto Riverrun. Their infantry, about 2750 men, would follow behind to Riverrun at a slower pace. Leading the levies of the Twins were Ser Ryman Frey and his son Black Walder, Walton Frey and his son Steffon, Ser Perwyn Frey, Ryger Rivers, and Ronel Rivers.
The conversation with Ser Stevron done, Robb approached Jon with two Freys in tow. One looked to be about of age with them, the other was a few years younger.
"Jon, this is my new squire Olyvar," Robb said, indicating the older of the two, "and your new squire Bryan."
Bryan had the weasel-like look that most of the Freys had inherited from the late Lord Walder but he was fortunate enough not to have the weak chin to go along with it. He had sandy hair, which separated him from the majority of his kin who had either black or brown hair.
Jon looked at Robb with raised eyebrows. His new squire? What? He hadn't the faintest idea of what to even do with a squire.
Robb gave him a look that said they would talk about it later "Bryan is Ser Stevron's grandson."
They would definitely be talking about it later. Jon cleared his throat. "It is a pleasure Bryan."
"My Lord Jon, I am honored," Bryan said, bowing low.
Jon grimaced and looked at Robb again but his brother just shook his head. With a sigh, Jon turned back to the two Freys. "Both of you get your stuff and your horses before coming to our camp. If you're going to squire for us, there's two someones you're going to need to meet."
The two boys bowed before rushing off. By the old gods, he hoped Ghost and Grey Wind didn't eat those boys alive. He doubted such a thing would deepen their new alliance with House Frey. Jon pulled Robb over to the side, away from anyone who looked part weasel.
"Why do I have a squire?" Jon asked, voice low.
"Ser Stevron insisted," Robb replied, matching his volume. "One squire for me, and one for my brother."
"But I'm not a knight. And I'm a bastard."
"I'm not a knight either. And I don't think you being a bastard bothers him. Walder Frey raised all his bastards here at the Twins."
Jon realized Robb was right as he knew of four Rivers who lived in the Twins and were the dead man's sons. Lady Catelyn would have died of shock if there had been that many Stark bastards living in Winterfell.
"I don't even know what a squire is supposed to do," Jon complained.
"Me neither," Robb answered with a shrug. "Something about polishing armor and taking care of our horses. I was going to ask Uncle Brynden."
Together they walked out of the Great Hall, ignoring the Frey girls making eyes at them, and out to the northern camp that lay a thousand feet from the drawbridge. It was there they were surprised to see a handful of men with a white sunburst on a black field.
"Harrion, Eddard, Torrhen!" Robb shouted upon spotting his three foster brothers. "Is your host here already?"
"Nay," Harrion said, moving forward to hug Robb. "Shortly after we left Winterfell we rode ahead of our host to join you in battle. We can't let you have all the glory!"
"Father should either be arriving at or leaving Moat Cailin by now." Eddard said, as it was his turn to be hugged.
"We almost rode right past you," Torrhen added. "Luckily one of our men spotted the banners or we would have kept going down the Kingsroad."
"We're about to set out and begin the ride to Riverrun." Robb waved his hand behind him at the identical keeps. "Rest yourselves and your horses for a bit before joining the back of our line."
Robb set a blistering pace from the Twins. Ser Brynden and a hundred men on some of the fastest horses they had, rode out ahead to kill any Lannister scouts before they could see the northern host and report it to the army that besieged Riverrun. In order for Robb's plan to work they needed surprise to be on their side.
A few days after leaving the Twins they were joined by close to 1000 men from Seagard led by Ser Patrek Mallister. It was half of the levies Seagard could call. Two hundred horse joined their ride, while the other eight hundred waited to march with the infantry from the Twins.
"Riverrun was already under siege before we could even get to Oldstones," Ser Patrek explained. "We marched back to Seagard and sent letters to Lord Frey with the idea we could link forces but he never responded."
They went around Hags Mire, between the Blue and Green Forks to Oldstones. Although the keep had been a ruin for centuries the small stone bridge that crossed the Blue Fork was still intact. It was to the south of Oldstones and west of Fairmarket that they discovered six hundred and thirty men led by Ser Marq Piper and Ser Damon Vypren, the remains of Edmure's host from outside Riverrun that wasn't captured, killed, or had retreated into the castle of House Tully. They only had eighty cavalry, losing more than half their horse in their mission to harass Lannister supply lines.
"The Kingslayer rides out after us every time," Ser Marq explained to Robb and his war council. "Every time we attack his supplies, he personally leads a thousand horses to chase us down."
"We've lost over a hundred men to him these past few weeks," Ser Damon said.
"The Kingslayer is itching for a battle," Ser Brynden said, with a thoughtful tone. "He's never been a patient man and now his blood is running hot. Probably trying to rinse off the stench of his capture by the Lollistons."
"What are you thinking Uncle?" Robb asked.
"I'm thinking we can use that."
Robb nodded his head, his thoughts syncing with his uncle's. "An ambush. We will send men to lure him away from the rest of the host and crush him from all sides. Somewhere close enough to Riverrun that we can descend upon it within a few days of battle, but far enough away where the besiegers won't hear their friends being killed."
"I know the perfect place."
That was how Jon found himself one of many who surrounded Robb as they hid amongst the trees that lined the sloping mountain base. The light of the moon gave just enough light to see in the dark.
A bunch of the young nobles had volunteered to defend Robb; Smalljon Umber, Dacey Mormont, Daryn Hornwood, Robin Flint, Ser Marq Piper, Ser Damon Vypren, Ser Patrek Mallister, Ser Perwyn Frey, Olyvar Frey, the three Karstark brothers, and of course Jon and Theon. Robb called them his battle guard. Jon meant no offense to those who had volunteered but it would have made more sense if Robb was surrounded by veteran men who were picked because of their skill in combat, not because of their station. Outside of this guard, Robb was surrounded by the cavalry of houses Frey and Stark.
Across the valley were the cavalry of houses Mormont, Umber, Flint, and Mallister. To the north, across the rocky stream that cut through the valley, were the cavalry of houses Manderly and Tallhart, as well as from the Mountain Clans who had marched with them from Winterfell - Harclay, Knott, Burley, Moss, Furr, Hawke, and the First Flints.
To the south, hidden away to be the last to reveal themselves were the infantry of Ser Marq and Ser Damon's host, mostly spearmen, led by Maege Mormont, who would cut off any hope of retreat. Up in the branches of the trees were the hundred and fifty archers from the small host led by Ser Marq and Ser Damon. While the archers were let loose a volley or two to start the ambush, their main goal was to make sure anyone who tried escaping was cut down.
Now they just had to be silent and wait for the trap to be sprung.
"You're daydreaming," Jon heard someone hiss.
"Was not," came an answering hiss.
Jon looked over to see Harrion and Eddard Karstark having a go at each other.
"You barely even spoke with her," Eddard said.
"I wasn't thinking of her!"
"Thinking of who?" Robb asked, his voice low.
Eddard jerked his thumb at Harrion. "He spent the two hours we were at the Twins making eyes with one of the Frey girls."
Olyvar leaned forward from his spot behind Robb. The Frey girl would be a sister or a niece of his. "Which one?"
"I think her name was Roswyn?"
"Roslin," Olyvar and Harrion corrected at the same time.
Harrion realized he had spoken aloud and his cheeks reddened. Robb, Eddard, and Torrhen all laughed at his embarrassment. Jon wished they would shut up. Ser Brynden and his men would come riding through any minute, and they couldn't let the Kingslayer know what lay in wait for him in this valley.
"We will talk about Harrion's sweet love after the battle. For now, we must keep quiet," Robb ordered, remembering the situation they were in.
Harrion looked like he wanted to protest but was prevented from doing so as a bird called in the distance, a high sharp trill. Another bird answered, then a third and fourth. Jon knew their call well, snow shrikes; they were northern birds. He knew what their calls meant. They were coming. The Kingslayer was coming.
The thunder of hooves on the ground started as a faint whisper before crescendoing, joining with the clanging of metal and shouted curses into a cacophony. Two hundred and thirty cavalry flying the banners of House Tully burst into the clearing, led by Ser Brynden. It only took a moment before the Blackfish's men had ridden past them.
They were followed by armored men in red and gold. There were hundreds of them, easily five times as many as the Blackfish had. Every muscle in Jon's body was taut and he felt like he was about to burst. He didn't think he could grip his sword any tighter in his hands.
A horn was blown to the south, Maege Mormont letting them know that the last of the Lannister horse had ridden into their trap. Grey Wind chose that moment to howl, the cry lingering in the air for a moment as everything seemed to still.
Then the arrows started to fly. Jon wasn't sure who rushed forward first but whoever it was broke the dam. They surged forward, coming upon the shocked Lannister host from all sides. The Kingslayer shouted to try to organize his men but it mattered little.
Some of the Lannister men, including the Kingslayer himself, wore plate armor that would be difficult for a sword. Instead Jon pointed his horse at one of the men-at-arms whose armor was mostly leather and chainmail, with only a few plated pieces of armor; helm, breastplate, gauntlets.
Before the man could react Jon was on him, his horse slamming into the side of the man's larger courser. He jabbed his sword as hard as he could into the man's thigh. He didn't slice all the way through the chainmail that protected the leg but his sword had a thin and sharp point, specifically designed to stab through the rings, and it sunk a few inches into the meat of the thigh.
The man cursed and turned to engage Jon but another rider slammed into him, knocking them both off their horses. Jon felt himself blink in surprise at the turn of events as he looked for his next opponent. A knight in full plate armor greeted him, swinging his sword wildly.
Jon fought furiously with the knight for what felt like ages. He had scored a dozen hits at least but the plate armor was well made and Jon found it difficult to hit what few weaknesses in the armor there might have been. Then Smalljon was there, swinging his war hammer into the knight's side and not only caving the man's armor and likely shattering ribs, but knocking him from his horse.
A sword won't do against these southern knights and men-at-arms. I need a mace or a war hammer.
There were no Lannister men around him and Jon to the chance to look around. They were winning the fight. Most of the Lannister men were dead. There were small pockets of the red armored men who fought for their lives. Then there was the Kingslayer and about fifty of his men, who were cutting a path directly to Robb. Jon watched as Daryn Hornwood was cut down by the Kingslayer.
Jon urged his horse, sweeping wide around the mass of men. He watched as the Kingslayer was met by Eddard Karstark, who he traded only one or two blows with before he cut down the middle son of Lord Karstark as well. The Kingslayer pointed his sword at Robb, his intent clear, and Robb raised his sword to defend himself.
It was just the Kingslayer and Robb, until it wasn't. Jon appeared between the two, sword swinging at the Kingslayer's head. If Ser Jaime was surprised at Jon's sudden appearance he didn't show it. If anything he was frustrated that he had been intercepted before he could reach his target. Robb shouted something at Jon but he couldn't hear what it was.
Even atop his horse, the Kingslayer was deadly with his sword. It took all of Jon's skill to fend off the attacks. Like most warriors of the north he wore chainmail over boiled leather, but Ser Jaime's sword was like his own, designed to penetrate chainmail. And unlike Jon, the Kingslayer had the strength to drive the sword through the mail and leather and deep into flesh.
"You've fought better than the rest, bastard," the Kingslayer said with a grin. "But it ends now."
End it did. The Kingslayer pulled a move Jon had never seen before, knocking his sword from his hand. As Jon tensed for the killing blow, Ghost, his muzzle stained red with blood, bounded in from the side. The direwolf ripped open the throat of the Kingslayer's horse, sending the horse and its rider toppling to the ground. The Kingslayer staggered to his feet, having lost his sword in his fall, and found himself surrounded by not only two dozen enemy cavalry but two snarling direwolves.
"Not again," the Kingslayer murmured as he raised his hands. His eyes found Jon's and they burned with anger and humiliation.
"You alright?" Jon asked, turning to his brother.
Robb nodded his head, though his gaze was on the fallen form of Eddard Karstark.
With the fighting done the cries of the dying, both men and horse, filled the air. Jon knew they didn't have that many healers with them. They had been left behind with the bulk of the army that was marching with Roose Bolton. Most of the wounded would likely die.
Yet no one seemed concerned with the wounded. Greatjon approached both Jon and Robb atop his giant destrier. He moved in between the two of them and took each of their hands within his meaty palms and raised them into the air.
"To the Young Wolf! To the White Wolf!" the Greatjon yelled, his booming voice drowning out all other noise.
The men took up the chant. "Young Wolf! White Wolf! Young Wolf! White Wolf!"
Numbers update: Robb has ~21,250 men from the North and 5,030 men from the Riverlands. He commands ~8630 (4870 mostly cavalry just north of Riverrun, 3550 infantry at Oldstones, and 100 cavalry at the Twins), Roose Bolton commands ~14,850 men (14,300 infantry and 550 cavalry), and Rickard Karstark commands ~2990 men (2550 infantry and 440 cavalry) who are near the border of the North and the Riverlands. Since these were last posted Robb has lost two hundred in the Battle of Whispering Woods and Roose has lost 150 in skirmishes with the Lannisters.
The Lannisters have ~29,950 men. Jaime controls ~11,200 men (10,200 infantry and 1000 cavalry) at Riverrun and Tywin controls ~17,800 men (11,150 infantry and 6,350 cavalry) north of the Trident. Both the Mountain and Amory Lorch have ~475 cavalry in the heart of the Riverlands. Since these were last posted Jaime has lost 1800 in the Battle of Whispering Woods and Tywin has lost a hundred in skirmishes with Roose and another three hundred in taking Darry.