[OUTSIDE OXCROSS, THE BATTLEFIELD]
[The Northern forces have completed their assault on the encampment. The view pans across bodies and wounded men in the mist. Horses neigh and soldiers cry out in pain. LORD ROOSE BOLTON and ROBB walk through the aftermath, followed by a handful of Northern soldiers.]
"Another successful attack" Brandon the Elder clapped his nephew on the shoulder. "I am impressed Robb, you're doing far better than I could have ever done."
"Thank you, uncle, but no doubt I have capable men counselling me" Robb replied, face tinged with a blush.
The Starks and those against the Lannisters were happy to see the state of the Lannister army, especially Ned Stark who was proud of his son's accomplishment on the battlefield.
"Five Lannisters dead for every one of ours. They're dead. Take everything they've got. We've nowhere to keep all these prisoners. Barely enough food to feed our own."
"We're not executing prisoners, Lord Bolton."
"If the need arises, you might have to do just that. Especially those that are not going to yield any value" Stannis Baratheon said with his ever stern mannerism.
"Lord Baratheon, it would not be right to do that" Robb argued, "they might be our enemy, but they are people as well."
"People who have signed up for this" Robert Baratheon, the King, spoke in support of his brother. "It is not a clean job, nor an easy thing to do. But those men knew what they were signing up for when they chose to become men at arms. Always put the needs of your men above your enemies if a situation like the one your future self is currently going through comes up."
Robb nodded, genuinely thinking about the King's and Lord Stannis' words.
"Of course, Your Grace. The officers will be useful. Some of them may be privy to Tywin Lannister's plans.|
"I doubt it."
"Well, we'll learn soon enough. In my family, we say, A naked man has few secrets. A flayed man none."
"My father outlawed flaying in the North."
"Have you?" Rickard asked his son.
"Aye. It was too cruel of a ritual to allow to continue" Ned answered.
Rickard frowned. It was not like he hadn't tried to do something similar. But the Lord Bolton of his time had fought against the ruling hard. For Roose to give over and allow it to happen without conflict… Must have been because of Ned's connection to Robert.
"The high road's very pretty, but you'll have a hard time marching your army down it."
Many of the men in the room understood the weight of those words, especially those who've fought in wars and conflicts.
[A WOUNDED SOLDIER struggles as TALISA removes his tattered pants and tries to tend to his bloody legs while another woman tries to help.]
"Ah he's going to lose the leg" Oberyn hummed. It was never easy seeing a man become a cripple. The world is not kind to cripples.
"The rot's set in."
"No, don't! No, don't! Please, don't! It'll get better. It doesn't even hurt."
"The rot will spread if we don't take the foot now."
[ROBB approaches, looking concerned as he struggles. ROBB kneels and holds the man down.]
"Ser! Please, ser. I can't lose-"
"You'll die if she doesn't."
"I don't think he cares if he does die if the alternative is being a cripple" Jon muttered.
"It couldn't be that bad, right? I become one and I think I'm dealing with it just fine" Bran asked.
"Yes, but you are my son, the son of the Warden of the North. You have resources and privileges that he does not have."
"That's unfair. Maybe we can help people like him!"
Ned smiled at his son and ruffled his hair.
"Surely one of our men needs your attention more than this cub."
"Your men are not my men, my lord."
"A Lannister healer?" Arya asked.
"She doesn't look like one" Jon pointed.
"She could be just there to help" Sansa suggested
"Nobody just walks into a battlefield to help" Robb rolled his eyes.
"Let's just watch and see who she is" Jon suggested and the other three nodded.
"Bite on it. It's better than biting your own tongue, believe me."
[ROBB holds the WOUNDED SOLDIER down as TALISA saws off his foot. He screams through the gag that ROBB placed in his mouth. ROBB watches the resigned TALISA see-through, impressed by her resolve.]
[ANOTHER PART OF THE BATTLEFIELD]
[A mounted soldier rides slowly, carrying the Stark banner. TALISA readies a cart carrying a wounded man. It starts forward, and TALISA looks exhausted. ROBB looks over at her. She notices and turns. ROBB approaches.]
"What's your name?"
"Talisa."
"Your last name?"
"You want to know what side my family fights on?"
"A perfectly valid inquiry" Tyrion noted.
"You know my family name. You have me at a disadvantage."
"That boy lost his foot on your orders."
"They killed my father."
"That boy did?"
"The family he fights for."
"Do you think he's friends with King Joffrey? He's a fisherman's son who grew up near Lannisport. He probably never held a spear before they shoved one in his hands a few months ago."
"Ah, so she's a noble girl who has little idea of how the world works" Tyrion stated calmly.
"She isn't wrong" Princess Myrcella pointed out.
"She isn't" Tyrion shook his head at his niece. "But she also is. That man has never held a spear in battle, but he has been recruited. And knowing your grandfather and his thing for honour, he would never allow a man who never held a sword in his life to fight in a battle. The Westerlands are the second most populous region in Westeros, so unless our numbers are thinned for some reason, we have no reason to pull in civilians. And I doubt our numbers have been stretched thin against the Northern Forces."
"They might be brother if the North is winning one battle after the other" Jaime pointed out.
"Mayhaps, but I don't believe so."
"Whether you believe or not, uncle is irrelevant before what could be the truth" Myrcella muttered.
Tyrion stared at his niece a moment before cracking a smile and ruffling her hair.
"Mayhaps, dear niece."
[TALISA walks away in frustration, carrying a heavy pail. ROBB follows.]
"You'd have us surrender, end all this bloodshed. I understand. The country would be at peace and life would be just under the righteous hand of good King Joffrey."
"You're going to kill Joffrey?"
"I think that was obvious" Robb muttered. He was not appreciating the woman's way of speaking and insinuating.
"If the gods give me strength."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. We'll go back to Winterfell. I have no desire to sit on the Iron Throne."
"So who will?"
"That is not for us to think about, I think" Robb stated, framing it more like a question than a statement.
"I don't think so. You are fighting to avenge Father and free the North. Once that's been accomplished, the Throne can go to whoever."
"And what if the new King decided to invade the North and assimilate it back into the rest of the Seven Kingdoms?" Olenna Tyrell questioned, aged sharp eyes fixed not on Robb but on Jon.
The 'bastard' of the North frowned. He looked to Robb to answer, but his uncle Brandon stared at him, encouraging him to speak. Robb seemed to have understood it as well, albeit he was just as confused about it.
"The North isn't easy to conquer if all houses return with their forces. Each castle fortress can withstand sieges, but at the same time, we know the terrain better and know how and when to attack without the enemy suspecting. Down from South if we can man Moat Cailin we'll be very safe. So our main goal then would be to secure the coastal regions. House Manderly are formidable at se amongst the Northern Houses, and we have Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square and Barrowton on the other side to deal with any Western threats. And that is if they were to attack in the summer. But if the Northern troops pulled back after taking down Joffrey and his forces and made It back home, the other two armies would clash to see who sat on the throne. By the time that threat is dealt with, winter would be upon us and the North in the Winter is a threat in itself."
"And what of the Riverlands who've sworn to you?"
Jon understood the question as the Riverlands swearing to the North.
"That… is complicated" Jon frowned. The riverlands were bare and open to be attacked from any side, with no natural protection to aid them. As Tywin Lannister had proved.
"Unless you abandon the Riverlands, the Northern forces can't truly pull back, now can they?"
Jon looked at the old woman before he looked at Lady Catelyn, a completely unconscious decision. The woman was silent, eyes lowered and gnawing on her lips.
"No, we can't" Jon finally said.
Olenna Tyrell hummed under her breath.
"I don't know."
"You're fighting to overthrow a king, and yet you have no plan for what comes after?"
"First we have to win the war."
[Frustrated, TALISA climbs onto a horse's cart, and signals it to start.]
"She's going to be a problem for the young wolf" Jaime noted.
"All women are during war" Tyrion muttered.
[KING'S LANDING, THRONE ROOM]
[KING JOFFREY BARATHEON aims a crossbow at a kneeling LADY SANSA STARK while SANDOR "THE HOUND" CLEGANE stands by.]
Ned Stark's eyes hardened, gazing at the bastard that had his daughter as a hostage. He was the one to state clearly that one should not be punished for acts they are yet to commit… yet he wanted to see this bastard dead more than he wanted Rhaegar to die. Which was a lot considering how he wished he'd been the one to kill Rhaegar.
Before he knew of the truth, of course.
"You're here to answer for your brother's latest treason."
"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that. I beg you, please"
Sansa looked at her elder brother pleadingly and received nothing but kind looks from him.
"Don't worry" he mouthed to her, and she nodded smiling.
"Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage."
[SER LANCEL LANNISTER addresses the room, which is taken aback by his recounting.]
"Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain."
"He can't seriously think people would believe this" Myrcella muttered, feeling her jaws slacken.
"He took his mother's words to heart it seems" Tyrion muttered, a strange sharpness in his voice.
"Killing you would send your brother a message."
[Sansa cries.]
"But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand. So we'll have to send your brother a message some other way. Meryn."
[SER MERYN TRANT approaches SANSA.]
"Leave her face. I like her pretty."
[SANSA looks aghast at JOFFREY. MERYN punches her full force in the stomach and she doubles over in pain. JOFFREY looks on cruelly as MERYN cuts SANSA's legs out from under her. She falls to the floor, wailing.]
Sansa began to shake as she watched what Joffrey was subjecting her to.
"Meryn, my lady is overdressed. Unburden her."
[MERYN rips SANSA's dress from the back. She cries in anguish.]
Of all people to act out violently to this, nobody expected Joanna Lannister to suddenly slap her eldest across the face.
"Mother—"
"You and your vile sister made that!" the woman seethed and Jaime did not find the words to reply to that. "You are the father and you allowed that thing to become that."
"Mother I—"
He was slapped across the face again. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in close.
"I have never been as ashamed of anything in my life as I am of you and your whore of a sister for making the second coming of Aerys!"
Then she let him go, before falling in her chair with her hands covering her face. She was sobbing.
Jaime, shocked and shattered, fell back in his chair. Tyrion called to him but he was in too much of a daze to hear what his brother had to say. All he was aware of was that he had changed seats with his brother.
Over to the Stark's side, Sansa was the worst she'd ever been. Shaking, crying and close to throwing up, she held onto her mother like she was a lifeline, that if she let go Joffrey would appear and beat her again.
Catelyn held her daughter tight, comforting her the best she could in her own horrified condition. Beside her, Ned looked stoic, but his eyes were anything but calm and kind. They were like chips of ice, and a storm was brewing behind them. Nobody had seen him this infuriated before, not even Robert who had known him the longest. Arya was too horrified to speak, Bran as well. Robb and Jon were not shouting insults, but nobody doubted that both sons of Ned Stark had already killed Joffrey a thousand ways in their heads.
"It's like father was born all over again, but evil from the very beginning" Rhaegar muttered darkly, being reminded of the things his father would do to his mother.
Elia glanced at her brothers, Oberyn specifically. No words were spoken, but the message was clear.
"If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to speak louder."
[MERYN raises his sword to hit SANSA.]
"What is the meaning of this?"
[MERYN holds, while LORD TYRION LANNISTER and BRONN enter the throne room. JOFFREY looks worried.]
"What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?"
"The kind who serves his king, Imp."
"So not a knight at all" spat Brandon the Elder.
|I shouldn't have let Cersei talk me into putting that monstrosity in the Kingsguard" Robert muttered, truly repentant about all the choices he's made.
"Careful, now. We don't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak."
"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with. She is to be your queen. Have you no regard for her honour?"
Ned gave Tyrion a stiff nod. That was more than Tyrion expected from the man.
"I'm punishing her."
"For what crimes? She did not fight her brother's battle, you half-wit."
"You tell him, Uncle Tyrion!" Tommen cheered.
Myrcella patted him on the knee and shook her head at him.
Tommen pouted but decided to listen.
"You can't talk to me like that. The king can do as he likes!"
"The Mad King did as he liked. Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?"
"No one threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard."
"I'm not threatening the king, ser. I am educating my nephew. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him. That was a threat. See the difference?"
[MERYN stares daggers at TYRION. TYRION approaches SANSA and offers his hand. She takes it and stands. They walk out together.]
"My Lords and Ladies, I wish to take a break. For my daughter's sake," Ned Stark stood, his features still tittering on the edge of a breakdown.
Nobody denied him this.