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KoW - Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2024-10-14 01:09:36 +0000 UTCTyrion Lannister
The silence was heavy in the command tent, all grown men, veterans of many wars, squirming before his father’s eyes like children who were caught stealing lemon tarts.
Only his uncle, Kevan, was undeterred if not angered. “Why had you not sounded the retreat earlier, Lord Tywin.” Oof, he could remember few moments Kevan calling his father that, none were pleasant. “We could have saved thousands more soldiers!”
His father stayed undeterred, Tyrion knew that privately, Uncle Kevan would be heavily reprimanded, yet in this situation he knew Tywin Lannister would rather die than besmirch his dignity by explaining himself.
“It was an ambiguous situation, Ser Kevan.” Addam Marbrand attempts to play diplomat. “Our men looked eager enough that breaking through their pikemen on the other side was a possibility, if enough of them made it to the other side we could have won the battle.” What was left unsaid was obvious. “What we need to know is how they managed to get their hands on barges, to make a bridge across the Green Fork is…”
The rest was left unsaid because it is a compliment, to the enemy.
“Greywater Watch, obviously.” Tyrion speaks. “The Reeds have a whole floating castle made of wood; barges are simply an inferior version.” He explains, causing many eyes to light in sudden understanding. “The question that must be asked is, where is Robb Stark?”
And then it dawned on people, there were no Stark banners in that army, in fact, at its center laid a red flayed man on pink de sang, House Bolton.
“I know of Roose Bolton.” Tywin finally made to speak, his voice silencing the command tent. “In the Rebellion he was cautious yet ruthless; if he dictated the strategy of this battle he would have chosen another method.” He mused out loud. “No. This was the whelp’s design.” He spoke as if his thoughts were fact, which Tyrion thought they might as well be.
The issue that begot from this realization is thus. If the boy, or man, who is clever enough to come up with such a brazen strategy, enough to make them lose 5000 men in exchange for 1000, isn’t present in its execution, surely he must be somewhere that would cause even more damage, no?
And the only such place Tyrion could think of was Riverrun, which his brother is laying siege to at the moment.
His father and his councilors came to the same conclusion, yet none dared voice it.
“We make for the Ruby Ford, with those abominable barges destroyed; we cannot cross this blasted river.” Tywin ordered, his voice tinged with scathing anger.
‘I hope you well in your future endeavors, Robb Stark.’ Tyrion mused to himself. ‘After all, you’ll need all your luck after angering a lion.’
--*
Theon Greyjoy
It felt like betrayal, it truly did.
Robb was once his closest friend, the only one he could have in an accursed world, yet in a single sennight he had turned, the young man who was quick to smile and make a jape was gone, at his place was a man colder than ice, whose eyes reminded him of jaded grey ones he’d seen years ago, yet managed to be colder still.
‘I guess the apple does not fall far from the tree, after all.’ He darkly japed.
It felt like betrayal, when Robb would not take his counsel or spend the time in the yard, when he ordered his men to garrison their keeps against Ironborn, whilst HE was here!
It did feel like betrayal, yet it was simply an act of desperation, this Theon knew.
His brother in all but name, Robb… He lost a lot that was precious, his sisters kidnapped, his father captured, by grasping hands that do it simply because they could, it was reminiscent to Theon’s own experience, it explained it all.
It is why he didn’t complain, he didn’t demand explanations or reparation, he stood next to his friend, he would fight by his side, and they would get the glory they deserved, and once this was all done and left behind, all would be good.
Theon was part of the contingent that left with Robb, they were all mounted cavalry, 6000 mounted knights, with the sole goal of relieving Jaime Lannister’s siege over Riverrun.
Theon was privy to the council, and so he knew the gist of the plan.
It was as so, Ser Brynden Rivers and his 300 picked outriders befell on Ser Jaime’s scouts like demons, none of them survived to sight them riding out in hiding, with Ser Jaime presumably assuming that those deaths are caused by Ser Mark Piper’s 50 riders who had been harassing his supply lines all over the Red Fork for the last few weeks.
Once they made it to the Whispering Woods, a forest situated just north of Riverrun, they camped upon a hill. Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Jason Mallister wait east of the valley, while Lord Rickard Karstark is to the north. West is Ser Stevron Frey, and across a far ridge Lord Greatjon Umber. Robb's mother, Lady Catelyn Stark, waits high on a ridge under the protection of thirty guards led by Hallis Mollen, good man Hallis is, loyal man who will keep Lady Catelyn safe.
Robb had ordered Ser Brynden Tully to lead a few hundred men to raid and draw Jaime from his camp at Riverrun, which is underway at this moment.
Theon had mounted himself to Robb’s left, watching atop their mounts next to Rickard Karstark himself, and waiting for a signal.
Everyone is silent, six thousand men and their horses somehow making nary a sound.
It was the sound of bowstrings that signaled that the trap had been sprung, and Robb’s direwolf, fearsome creature the size of his stallion, springs up next to him and lets out a howl so loud it felt like his ears had ruptured.
Somehow, our own horses are unflinching, unafraid of the beastly sound, which is promptly followed by the sound of clenched strings going taut.
‘The bowmen, it is our turn then.”
Robb had already charged first, his horse moving even before the bowmen began their harassment, closely followed by the rest. They meet with the Lannister’s left flank, and before Theon gets caught in his own battles, he catches a glimpse of Robb decapitating a man in half in a single swing, whilst Greywind pierces the throat of a horse.
But before he could feel any measure of shock, his mind falls into an ethereal calm, and he finds himself more skilled than any other day of his life, barely dodging an arrow that went for his ear.
Jaime Lannister
The moment the northern cavalry hit our left flank, Jaime knew the battle was lost.
He slashes a man’s head off, only barely able to dodge his own, headed for his head.
‘These men are strangely calm and focused.’ Even in the chaos of battle, Jaime could tell that the enemy forces were acting strangely, they moved in relative order even if the battle was in full swing, and when their life was in danger, they reacted calmly to the risk.
He hears same abominable howl again, their trained warhorses were able to stay calm, if not spooked. But the young or undisciplined ones went crazy from fear.
‘Yet their horses seem accustomed, strange.’ Jaime muses again.
For a split second, he thought upon his situation, he regretted his action for chasing the small group of outriders into the forest, he should have suspected it when the Piper fool was still busy harassing his shipments from the Red Fork.
For another split second, he entertained the idea of retreat, it was clearly a trap meant to catch him, and giving your enemy the satisfaction of achieving their goal is simply defeat. Yet they were completely surrounded, with men outnumbering them and catching them in the backfoot.
No, his only option is to cut off the head of the snake.
He extends his sword, ornate and decorated with gold and emerald, yet equally capable of cutting down his enemies, toward the banner of the grey direwolf.
“TO ME, KNIGHTS!” Jaime rarely cried so loud, yet his voice was heard by enough. “WE KILL THE WOLF! WE WIN THE BATTLE!”
Most of his retainers listen. ‘Hopefully they’ll be enough to reach the center.’ Jaime thinks.
Led by himself, his men are able to cut through dozens of men in quick succession, only losing a few in return.
Finally, he could sight the Stark boy and his frightfully large wolf.
He urges his horse to approach even faster, and ever the dutiful steed, it answers.
He cuts down man after man, ill bent on killing his only obstacle; he looks and finds the young wolf doing the same, if not at a higher degree, and catches a glimpse of his eyes.
‘That boy I saw in Winterfell is gone.’ Jaime could tell, unconsciously tightening his hold over his own sword. ‘Well, at least I’ll feel more at lease killing a man instead.’
“STARK!!” He exclaims gathering his attention.
The boy’s gaze suffocates him in their cold, it was like staring at winter personified, yet Jaime pulled himself up and continued his charge.
Men in the Stark’s vicinity moved to intercept him, yet they were unable to do so due to a single command that froze them in their tracks.
“His head is mine.” Robb spoke with an icy voice.
His men, who seemed young and hale, obediently listened. And finally, Jaime’s sword extended to take the Stark’s head.
At least that is what would have happened, had his horse not lost its own head!
Where the boy harbored such strength to cut a warhorse’s head off in a single swing, Jaime didn’t know. What mattered was that even though Jaime managed to roll away, mostly unscathed, he was now in foot while his opponent rode a horse.
And as Jaime scrambled to stand up, to be ready, he was met with a leather boot to his cranium, whence he fell unconscious.
