Chapter 57: A New Player Enters the Game

Jon Snow

"Dacey, Smalljon," I greeted them, happy to see my friends, but that ceased as I saw how ragged they were running. "Is everything all right?" I asked.

"Jon," she nodded in response. "Just tired. There are a lot of wounded, and our supplies have taken a hit."

"Anything of note?"

"No, we can take it. It's just that it will probably be a while before we can set the supply line," Smalljon noted.

"How long are we talking about?" I asked, wondering if the bottom part of the Riverlands would be secured enough for us to leave them be.

Robb had decided to use the King's Road for our supply line since the Vale hadn't done anything since the conflict started, and the Lannisters only controlled the upper part of the land.

There would be a mix of northern soldiers and Riverlander lords taking care of it until the Crossroads Inn. Then, the River road would be protected by a small part of the army.

I agreed with him, the same as most lords since it would help us greatly to have an ongoing supply of food and medicine, even if Robb could produce it by himself.

I shuddered, remembering the scene at Winterfell where Robb showed me his "breeding pit." The number of insects present there scared and disgusted me. And the worst part of it was that the amount I saw was insignificant compared to what he had at his disposal now.

I didn't know how many he had, and to be honest, I was afraid of the answer. I couldn't deny that his power was impressive, even better than the songs of magic I've heard in my short life.

Chuckling weakly at our plight, I shook my head. Going to war at fourteen name days wasn't something I dreamed of, but I was going to do my best for the North and the realm.

"Make sure you tell Robb in the war council later tonight," I ordered. "We could use some of the ravens here to send orders to Winterfell."

"Aye," Dacey replied. "It's a good thing our king decided to help the lords with our grain and fertilizer. With the number of soldiers we have, food would become a problem sooner than we could imagine."

"Aye, and winter is coming," said Smalljon. "I'm sure of it, and that will make it worse."

"Thankfully, Father bought enough food from the Reach," I agreed. "Also, the new crops that are resistant to the cold will be useful."

"Well, I just wanted you to know that there will be a war council tonight, and Robb wants us to be there," I continued. "We will take the Wight for the lords present."

"I'm getting tired of dragging that thing," said Dacey, shivering in disgust. "I hope our king can destroy them for good."

"I believe in him," I nodded. "And you should too. I'm sure he will be sitting on the throne before long."

Bidding my farewells, I started searching for the rest of the heirs that had come with us. This war was for the young of the North since all the northern lords stayed there to protect it. I was sure it was going to be difficult since we didn't have experience in these kinds of battles, but we would prevail. I was sure of it.

Robb Stark

Before the war started, I couldn't even imagine the amount of suffering people endured during a conflict. As I observed with all my senses the entire castle, I saw smallfolk, soldiers, and highborns doing whatever they could to support their liege lords. It was almost heartwarming to see them work in tandem, without thinking about their origins.

Obviously, not everyone was like that, but most were helping wherever they could. Women, either peasants or highborn, helped the septas or healers with the wounded. Children carried small crates of food for people who needed it.

This scene made me realize that I needed to step up my game. Not only for my future subjects but for my own peace of mind. I had the power to put a stop to this faster than in canon, but I wasn't doing much at the moment.

Shaking my head, I went back to the room where the war council would be held. I needed to learn about what was happening to make plans and provide ideas. My great-uncle, Jason Mallister, and maybe even my grandfather could provide better plans, but I wanted to ensure I contributed something besides the strength of my army.

Thinking about the situation we were in, I realized that Riverrun was surrounded from the south, with half of the Lannister army sieging the castle. Thanks to my great-uncle, they weren't capable of pushing for a full siege, but this would not last. With Jaime destroying the rest of the Riverlands with the other half, we couldn't focus on a single army and leave the other to its devices.

It was a difficult situation, but I had an idea that might help us. Since we were here with a big army, we could probably decimate the Lannisters. It would be risky since I would need to approach them because right now they were just outside my range. I needed to get closer to start spoiling their supplies.

But before making any decision, I needed to talk with the generals. I was sure they would push for a meeting, even if it would be for nothing. Tywin was in a bad spot. They started this conflict because of the queen and the new son. They needed to show force, so he could not back down even if he wanted to. The Riverlands were vying for their blood, so even if they decided to cut their losses, we couldn't allow them to escape without problems.

Well, whatever. What is done is done. For now, I just needed the throne, to fight against the rest of the "kings," and make myself the most important person in the realm.

Two hours later.

Thankfully, we had enough supplies to prepare a banquet to raise the morale. It would only be done this one time since we couldn't waste our resources, but it was needed. There was an air of depression and defeat in the castle, even after we arrived to help. The name of Tywin Lannister sowed fear inside the Riverlands, and a newly appointed King in the North didn't rouse their spirits as I had hoped.

We needed victories, and we needed them now. That's why I spent the whole banquet in silence, trying to form plans, but it was for naught. There weren't any more ideas than the ones I had before.

It was a dire situation, and I could see I wasn't the only one in the hall with grim faces, even if the smallfolk present or the ladies were happy with the feast. Most lords, soldiers, and even children were serious.

"There must be something we can do to calm everyone down," I told my great-uncle, who was sitting next to me.

He snorted with grim humor. "If you have something, go ahead, Robb," he shook his head. "They don't understand war, and since we have been pushed to this castle, they only hear about our defeats, even if they cost the Lannisters way more than what they intended."

"Aye, you did a wonderful job, Ser Brynden." I nodded. "By the way, I meant to ask this before, but with everything going on, I forgot," I continued. "Did you truly cut the arm off a general?"

"Aye," he nodded. "The bastard was a damn good fighter, enough for me to respect the cunt even after everything they have done."

"Warriors of that caliber deserve respect," I nodded. "Do you know who he was?" I asked.

"Have you heard of the Strongboar?" he huffed. "Damn, an apt name for the fucker. Almost killed me before I cut his arm."

I let out a dumbfounded chuckle. "You cut Ser Lyle Crakehall's arm?"

"I also find it hard to believe," he huffed. "I'm a good swordsman, but even I know it was mostly due to luck."

I nodded since it was true. He was damn good, but he wasn't at that level. My great-uncle excelled in warfare as a general, not as a frontline fighter, even if he could defend himself.

"We didn't hear much since we were on the move," I continued. "What can you tell me about the Lannister forces? At least the ones we will fight first."

"Tywin and his brother Kevan are at the lead," he started explaining, happy to help me get a clue about the situation at hand.

"They cut their army in half, as you heard, but even like that, they outnumbered us since I couldn't call the bannermen in the short amount of time I had," he continued. "We set a trap at the entrance of the Golden Tooth, but it wasn't enough."

"Aye, but you gave your best," I consoled when I noticed him dipping his head to the table. "We were on the back foot, but no more. We'll punish them for their sins, great uncle. I give you my word."

"What happened next?" I asked.

He grunted and looked at me. "We had multiple skirmishes, but they managed to defeat us thanks to their superior numbers. I'm not one to boast, but I know if I had similar numbers as Tywin, we wouldn't be in such dire circumstances."

"Understandable, great uncle," I replied. "How many soldiers are laying siege to the castle?"

"Tywin has twenty-five thousand soldiers outside the castle, and Jaime has a little bit under fifteen thousand at Mummers' Ford," he said with a grim tone.

"I've been thinking of how to proceed with this war, great uncle. But I need someone with more experience to give me some ideas," I said with a tilt of my head. "What would happen if we win a fight against Tywin and force him to retreat to Jaime?"

"It would give us time, Robb. But if we don't deal significant damage to the army, we will be on the losing end even if we win that battle," he said, shaking his head.

"What kind of damage would we need to do for it to be worthwhile?" I asked.

I wasn't sure about this. Conflict of this level was something new for me, and I didn't want to get some victories that ended with us being at a disadvantage once again in the future.

"If we were to at least deprive them of half of his forces, we would have an advantage," he replied. "But that is a fool's dream; they would retreat before coming to that. Tywin is an asshole, but he knows his stuff. He also has his brother Kevan at his side."

"Would it be possible if I had a way to cut their retreat?" I asked seriously, already having some ideas. The main one would be to use my wildfire insects to set ablaze their backs and separate the force into cubicles, so they wouldn't be able to escape while our army destroyed them.

The only problem I had with this was how to convince the Riverlords that we needed to keep some of the invaders alive. They wanted blood, but that didn't mean we could kill them indiscriminately. Every able soldier would be a boon for the fight against the others, and if I couldn't help the Wildlings before the Night King got them, we would need them a lot more. Just thinking of an undead army of over a hundred thousand made me shiver in fright.

"Hah," he laughed. "If you could do that, the army we have now could decimate them. Do you have some ideas?"

"Aye," I replied. "Just the bare bones for now, but I'll surely talk about them in the war council."

After that, our conversation halted since there wasn't much more we could plan without the input of the rest of the generals. There were a lot of lords in Riverrun right now, most of them if I was being honest, so I was sure we could plan something truly devious against Tywin's army.

Looking around, I smiled seeing how the people danced and drank, forgetting the bad times. This alone was worth it. And knowing I was the reason for this made me really happy.

As I was talking with different people at the table, I frowned, since I could feel a contingency of people running toward the hall as if their lives depended on it. I got on guard, calling my insects to use at a moment's notice just in case something bad happened.

As they entered the hall, almost dropping the large wooden door in their haste, I wondered what had happened to make them like this.

"My lords," the one in the lead said, "I bring really dire news," he finished panting.

There was absolute silence in the hall, but Edmure stood up instead of his father. "What happened, Ser Ebron?" he asked.

"My lord," he panted, "this is bad, really bad," he continued mumbling, and I could see multiple lords frowning in distaste.

"Out with it, boy," shouted Lord Ser Raymun Darry, Lord of Castle Darry.

"The Targaryens have returned!" he shouted in fright. "A supposed Aegon Targaryen fought against Stannis Baratheon!"

There was chaos in the hall, and I couldn't deny I felt perplexed myself. Since I didn't have spies in Essos and beyond, I was going only by my canon knowledge, but I barely remember that there was a supposed Aegon in the books. Since there were multiple mystical elements in this world, I had already inferred that I was at least in a mix between the books and the series, but this was the nail in the coffin.

If this Aegon, and it didn't matter if he was FAegon or legitimately Aegon, was here, it meant that our fight just got more difficult since there were new variables I hadn't taken into consideration.

"What are his forces?" I asked in a calm voice, trying to hide my shock at the news.

"He brought the Golden Company, my lord," the boy replied. "He beat Lord Stannis. He had to retreat since they fought him when he least expected it."

"This is bad," I murmured, and I could hear my great-uncle snort in disbelief.

"This is worse than bad, Robb. There are a lot of Targaryen loyalists left in Westeros," he replied softly so that only I could hear.

Thinking about it for a minute, I stood up. "This chaos isn't helping," I bellowed. "Do not worry, we will protect these lands against whoever attacks, it doesn't matter if it is the Lannisters, the Tyrells, or a new Targaryen. I give my word as the King in the North that we will not let them damage these lands without paying the price."

It was small, but thankfully the Northerners started cheering after my shout, and little by little, the rest followed. This barely-thought speech didn't mean much, but at least it calmed the people down.

"It appears that we need to have the war meeting done quickly," I said to the lords sitting at the main table. "We have much to discuss. Meet me there in half an hour." I stood up, with my people following after me.

The Riverlands

Tywin Lannister

The scent of unwashed bodies mixed with sweat permeated my nostrils, and I grimaced—a grim reminder of the war I had to fight thanks to the stupidity of my daughter. This could have been squashed at the beginning, but Cersei was so headstrong, thinking she was smarter than most, that she forced my hand.

Now, it didn't matter if we were in the right; the people of Westeros would see us as the villains. It didn't matter much; I had gained my infamy with the Rains of Castamere, but it would leave a bad taste in the mouth of the rest. But it didn't matter; a lion doesn't care about the sheep's opinion.

Maps and parchments were sprawled before me, detailing the Riverlands and the positions of my army. My council stood around me—Kevan, Gregor Clegane, Adam Marbrand, and the one-armed Strongboar.

Looking at him, I shook my head in disgust. One of the best swordsmen of the Westerlands reduced to a cripple by someone who shouldn't have been there in the first place. I still didn't know how the Blackfish knew we would attack the Riverlands with enough time to set a trap, but he had done so. Even with his small army, he was capable of damaging my army more than it should have been possible.

I knew he had problems with his brother, Hoster Tully, but I had already planned for his return. I just didn't expect it to be even before we passed the Golden Tooth.

Each of my commanders, including myself, knew the gravity of the situation. Riverrun had held longer than expected, thanks to Brynden Tully, but everyone knew the Riverlords were beginning to buckle.

"We should strike now," Gregor Clegane growled, towering over others with his usual impatience. "We need to attack before they can regroup. The castle supplies must be running thin."

I glanced at the Mountain with calculating eyes. The brute appetite for destruction was useful, but the timing was the most important thing in a war, and I had not held my position by being reckless. My army had thinned since I gave fifteen thousand men to Jaime, and while we outnumbered the Tully forces and had them pinned in one place, I couldn't deny I was feeling something was wrong.

"They are weak, yes," I began, with a measured voice to project the implacable image I had cultivated since my youth, "but that doesn't mean they will crumble with the first strike. Our scouts have already reported that the Riverlords are digging in, trying to fortify Riverrun to the high heavens. If we press them too hard, we risk scattering our forces and stretching our supply lines."

Kevan, my brother, was someone whose counsel was important to hear, even if I wouldn't admit it out loud. Out of all my family members, he was the one I trusted the most. So as he spoke, I listened. "We've already cut off several of their food supplies and scorched the southern part of their farmland. It's only a matter of time before they starve or turn on each other."

"Is there someone inside the castle that we could use to sow chaos or buy?" he asked.

I nodded. Kevan was right. The Riverlands were suffering, and his strategy had been to bleed them out slowly, leaving no room for them to recuperate. "There is some merit in your idea, brother," I replied. "The Brackens could be bought. Their enmity with the Blackwoods is known to all. If the Blackwoods choose to support their liege lords, the Brackens would join us just to spite their enemies."

Kevan nodded. "I'll test the waters, brother. If I find it is possible, I'll make a deal with them. If they are capable of sowing chaos in the castle, our victory is imminent."

"You have my permission, Kevan," I nodded. "We need to ensure that when we strike, it is decisive."

"What about the Starks?" asked Emmon Frey, Genna's husband and an insult to the honor of my family name. What Tytos Lannister had in his head while he made that offer escaped me.

But he had a point. We haven't had much news of the North in the last five years. We didn't know much about their numbers, their supplies—nothing at all. It was irritating, and Cersei went out of her way to make an enemy out of them. And the worst part was that she lost the only hostage that could have stopped them from marching south, who disappeared after leaving a bloodbath through the capital without anyone the wiser.

I suspected that Eddard Stark had already reached the North, but I was not sure what he was going to do in the future. Would he march against us? I suspected he would. The honorable fool would try to support the Riverlands and bring peace to the realm, but who would he support? Renly was out of the question, and the most probable one was Stannis. But I didn't know if his lords would support him in these endeavors.

The North was the kingdom that gave the most in the last two wars and received nothing in return. It was possible that the Northern lords would not march once again, or if they did, they would do so begrudgingly.

"The Freys would not let him pass before bleeding him dry," Kevan said out loud. "Everyone here knows the weasel your father is, Emmon. You know he would stop them if they don't pay tribute, and the North would not have the coin necessary to pass a sizable army."

"You are wrong, Kevan," I reminded him lightly. "The North is not as impoverished as before. With the sales from their vodka and other products, I'm sure they have enough coin to buy passage."

"This is bad, then," Kevan replied. "Emmon, make sure you send a raven to the Twins. Explain the situation to your father. I'm sure he will understand that it's better to ally with us than with the dying Tully."

Emmon nodded, but before he could reply, the flaps of the tent rustled as a rider burst through, dirt and exhaustion painted across his face. The man bowed hurriedly, catching his breath.

"My lord," the rider panted, "I bring urgent news."

I arched an eyebrow, gesturing for him to speak. My patience was as thin as the Riverlords' morale, and I wouldn't take interruptions lightly.

"Robb Stark," the rider continued, his voice trembling. "He has arrived at Riverrun. He has crossed the Twins with a very large host and has already entered the castle. Our scouts estimate over twenty-five thousand men, probably closer to thirty."

For a heartbeat, the entire tent was silent.

My face remained impassive, but inwardly, my mind raced. I had expected Eddard Stark to make a move, not his son. And never this soon—nor with such numbers. That the famous Ghost of the North had mustered a force this size so quickly was a surprise, though not an insurmountable one.

Emmon stood up frantically. "Thirty thousand men? My father would have never allowed this, even without my raven. There is no way he would have permitted an army that size to enter the Riverlands."

The rider got his breathing under control. "That's not all, my lords. I'm afraid the Twins have fallen."

"What do you mean the Twins fell?" roared Emmon, charging at the rider like a bull.

"Control yourself," I barked, and some guards grabbed him by the arms, pulling him away from the scout.

"Explain everything," I ordered simply.

"From what we've heard from some merchants on the King's Road, the newly appointed King of the North has invaded the South," the scout said in fright. "They tell tales of plague following him, of how he killed every male Frey in the Twins, including Lord Walder Frey, and took control of his castle."

Kevan stepped forward, concern etched on his face. "He has been named king? Is the boy mad? He has no claim to the Iron Throne!"

"Thirty thousand men?" he mumbled. "If he joins with the Blackfish, Riverrun will be reinforced beyond what we anticipated."

The Mountain grunted, his fingers itching to draw his sword. "Let me ride out and crush him. The supposed king is just a boy playing at war. His army will break."

My lips thinned, the weight of the situation bearing down. "No," I said quietly but firmly. "Eddard Stark is no fool. If he allowed his son to lead such a big army south while he's nowhere to be seen, it must mean he trusts him completely. The fact that he is a proclaimed king while his father is still alive must mean something."

The Strongboar grunted. "Do you remember the songs of his achievements in the North? Maybe there was some truth in them."

I did my best to ignore the pathetic sight of Emmon crying his eyes out, and I studied the map again, considering the various routes Robb could take. The Twins had been a critical point of entry, and Robb had seized it before my forces could even hear about what was happening. Curse the Blackfish. If he wasn't there, I was sure we could have been in control of Riverrun long before Robb Stark arrived.

It was a testament to the young Robb Stark's growing acumen in warfare. If Robb joined forces with the remnants of the Riverlords and his uncle, I would have a greater battle on my hands than I anticipated.

"We cannot underestimate him," I continued. "This won't be a mistake on my part. He now has the counsel of the Blackfish and multiple lords experienced in warfare. He will be a true threat whom we'll crush like a bug."

Kevan spoke in a low but steady tone. "If Robb Stark helps Riverrun, our siege will be drawn out, and we'll face a worse conflict than intended. Riverrun might hold, and with his reinforcements, our position will weaken."

I nodded in understanding; this was bad. "Then we must ensure Stark doesn't have his full strength when he fights against us." I tapped the map, my fingers tracing along the Riverroad. "We will harry his forces, make him overcommit to save the lands closer to Jaime's."

"Send riders to Mummer's Ford; Jaime's forces can be used to press Stark to protect that part of the Riverlands, while we bait him into a trap here while he is weakened."

The Mountain's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I can ride out, my lord. My men can cut his supplies just to add more chaos."

I shook my head. "No, Gregor. You are too valuable to risk in an early skirmish. Robb Stark would retreat if he knew we were coming for him in full force. Instead, we will use our lighter forces to harass him and wear down his army while he marches. We'll draw him into the river valleys, where his numbers will work against him." I glanced at Kevan. "Ensure the archers and cavalry are prepared. I want every crossing of the Red Fork covered."

Kevan nodded and began issuing orders to the other commanders before stopping cold in his tracks, looking almost mechanically at the scout. "What do you mean, plague following him, lad?" he asked.

"That's what the merchants said, milord," the scout nodded profusely. "That the sun dims in his presence and the sound of doom can be heard while his army fights."

"Bahaha!" The Mountain laughed loudly at that. "I'm going to show the pup what it means to dim the lights."

Kevan snorted. "Snarks and grumpkins."

With everything he needed to say, the scout left the tent, leaving a weird atmosphere with the last part. Some people laughed, others got confused, but none believed those high tales.

I turned back to the map, a slow, deliberate smile forming on my face. Robb Stark had proven to be a more resourceful adversary than I had believed, making people spread lies to build his reputation. But resourcefulness did not guarantee victory. The Riverlands were still bleeding, and I had every intention of letting that bleed continue—until there was nothing left but ruin. My grandson would be king, a feared king, just like me. And we could see that it worked. No one had even tried to rise against me in the Westerlands after Castamere, and this war would set that song to the past, birthing new ones for my family.

"Stark is coming," I said, my voice cold. "But he will not find the Riverlands as easy a victory as he hopes. Prepare the men. The young wolf is walking into the lion's den."

The commanders nodded and moved to execute my orders. As they left the tent one by one, I stood by the table, my hands gripping the edge as I stared down at the map. The war was going to take another turn, and I would ensure it favored House Lannister.

"Let the boy come," I muttered to myself. "He'll soon learn the cost of playing with the grownups. He cannot win the Game of Thrones."

With that, I stepped outside into the camp, which was a sea of crimson banners, with the lion of Casterly Rock fluttering proudly in the wind. It was a marvelous sight, and I would make sure it was the last thing Robb Stark and the Riverlanders saw before it all came crashing down for them.

As I was about to show a small smile, it froze on my face at the scene in front of me. Another group of scouts rode in as if their lives depended on it, fear etched on their faces.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kevan thundered, where he was talking with the rest of the commanders.

"You are part of the Lannister army," he boomed. "There is no reason for you to act so unsightly."

"Milord, bad news," the rider screamed with all his force. "There is a Targaryen army in Westeros once more."

Whatever Kevan was about to reply with stopped in his tracks, and I could feel a bead of sweat on my brow.

"What Targaryen army, boy?" I asked, my voice as cold as the North.

"A supposed Aegon Targaryen just defeated Stannis Baratheon's army. He has now disembarked at Griffin's Roost," he bellowed. I regretted asking this in front of the whole army.

Hushed whispers could be heard in the vicinity, and Kevan shot me an alarmed look.

"What army does he have?" Kevan asked, and I praised him in my head. With the shock of this news, I had completely forgotten about that key point.

"It is supposedly the Golden Company, milord," he said seriously.

"Well… fuck," I thought.

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