Trapped

Trapped

Jaime POV

Riding through the ravaged and empty villages of the Westerlands made my stomach churn. The farmlands were abandoned and burned down. There was nothing left. The same thing would have happened to the Riverlands if my father hadn't been stopped. So, I knew it was hypocritical to feel anger and hatred after seeing the same happen to my homeland, but I couldn't help it.

As we made our way to Lannisport, I saw many things done to my homeland. Each felt worse than the last. It will take enormous amounts of gold and time to rebuild to what it once was. As refugees made their way past us, apart from hatred, I felt quilt. I couldn't even look at my people's eyes. Their suffering was my fault.

They paid the price of my sins and shortcomings. Ragged, starving, and struggling, my people barely survived. Watching the children support their mothers and elderly made me sick. I could do nothing for them, only ride past them until we reached Lannisport. Once I have freed the city, at least these people will have somewhere to go.

Soon enough, I stood atop a hill, my eyes fixed on the horizon. Before me lay Lannisport and its surrounding lands. The land I had called home for most of my life. But now, it was a landscape of ruin and devastation. The war had taken its toll, and the once-prosperous region was now a shadow of its former self.

The golden hue from the sunset couldn't hide bloodstained grounds. Hastily left camps and siege engines, trees were ruthlessly cut down. The grass was burned black. I led my men down to the city. On my way, I saw the men from the Reach cleaning the surroundings. There were no Stannis' men. They have probably long since seen us and left.

I ignored the knights of the Reach as I entered the city. I passed the damaged walls and gates. There were plenty of breaches in some areas and crumbling battlements in others. The iconic gold-topped towers and spires that once adorned the city's skyline were partially destroyed. I tried my best not to look at it as I felt a pang of pain in my heart at the sight.

As we entered the city, the signs of destruction were even more pronounced. Houses and estates lay in ruins, their interiors looted and pillaged. Streets were strewn with debris despite the valiant efforts of those who had tried to clean them. The heart of Lannisport, a city that had once thrived with commerce and culture, was now a shadow of its former self.

With each step we took into the city, I regretted it more. I didn't need to see the inside of still-standing houses to know they were looted and my people were forced to leave. The hatred and anger within me had only grown stronger, and I knew I would not rest until I confronted Stannis and made him pay for the suffering he had brought to the Westerlands.

"Ser Jaime Lannister," I looked to the side as Ser Garlan Tyrell rode up to me.

"Why have you not left the city to chase after Stannis?" I asked, not even trying to hide my displeasure. "You don't seem to need help."

"And leave the city defenseless?" Ser Garlan asked. "We don't know where Stannis went. Maybe he planned to trick us into leaving while reinforcements from Golden Tooth took the city back. Or perhaps he is waiting within the hills of the Westerlands to ambush us. And even if I am unwilling, I must acknowledge that Stannis is a better commander than I am."

"We will leave seven thousand men in Lannisport," My father had planned to leave three thousand, but I knew the city needed more. "Gather your men and prepare to leave. We are going after Stannis first thing in the morning."

With that, I turned away from the Tyrell knight, my gaze returning to the ruined city that had once been my home. Then I looked north. I could barely see Casterly Rock, less than a mile from here. It stood proud and untouched. Part of me wished to visit it, but there was no need. Bitterbridge awaited, and it would be the place where Stannis Baratheon would learn the true cost of challenging House Lannister.

...

My hatred grew with each settlement we passed along the Ocean Road. The devastation wrought by the Ironborn was a stark reminder of the brutality of war, and it fueled the fire of anger and resentment burning within me. No report could have betrayed the unmistakable and brutal hallmarks of their raids.

The once-thriving farmlands that had fed Lannisport and Casterly Rock lay in ruin, the fields scorched and barren. Abandoned and burned villages dotted the landscape, their charred remains a testament to the brutality of the Ironborn invaders. Was there no place left for the Westerland people anymore?

At least Stannis showed mercy and restrained his men from doing unspeakable things. The Ironborn had no such restrictions. Along the burned villages, there were burned bodies. The few survivors were digging up the devasted houses, looking for food. But even if they found anything, the wild dogs would take it away.

As we marched past them, I bore the full brunt of their eyes filled with fear and resentment. We could do nothing but leave some supplies after camping for the night. We had to go once again and leave them to be defenseless and preyed on. My hands turned white from the force I extended to grip the reign of my horse. Why did the gods have to be so cruel to revive Theon Greyjoy? Was it to torment me for my sins?

Even so, I will kill him. Over and over again, no matter how many times he is revived. But firstly, I needed to deal with Stannis. With him gone, nobody will stop us from taking over the Stormlands and the Riverlands. Then, we will push the Ironborn back to their islands. Leaving only the North and Dorne standing against us.

We had the strongest army in the Seven Kingdoms. No one could stop us now, but with numbers came problems. Our pace was slow. It took too long to build camps for the night and too long to dismantle them. It was fine; we will reach Bitterbridge soon, and then we can split our army into more manageable hosts.

…

"What in the seven hells is this?"

Bitterbridge came from an ancient stone bridge crossing the Mander River. The castle is small, made of stone and timber. The keep is not tall, but the land is low and flat, making it seem taller. A small town surrounded the keep. It had an inn and a sept. It was supposed to be the place of our battle with Stannis.

Yet it was empty apart from a hundred men with Baratheon banner occupying the town and the keep. There was no fighting. We stormed the keep and quickly took control of it. And even though the men left here fought fiercely and to their deaths, we managed to capture a dozen of them alive. It was good because I needed answers.

"Where is Stannis?"

Ser Garlan asked a tenth time, but the questioned man spat in his face and smiled, ridiculing us. No matter what we tried to ask, that was our only answer. They were lunatics. There was no hiding it. The only words they spoke of were about the Lord of the Light. From how they burned down the town's only sept, I could tell they weren't pretending.

"What do we do?" Ser Garlan asked as we both looked at the destroyed beyond the repair bridge.

"How could this even happen?" I asked, still shocked at the scene before me. "It is our only way to cross the river."

"We can cross it in Longtable or Grassy Vale."

"And then what?" I asked, furious with these options. "We don't know where Stannis is. We don't know what his plan or goal is. We are clueless and trapped."

"Stannis is on the other side of this river," Garlan replied. He was the calmer one. "There are only two places he could go, Kingslanding or the Stormlands."

I knew that, but it didn't change a thing. Before we went around the river, Stannis would have already finished whatever he had planned to do. In anger, I returned to one of our captured. I needed answers and was willing to do whatever it took. Taking hold of our captive, I punched and kicked him, but he wouldn't say a thing and only laugh at me.

"Where is Stannis!" I didn't care anymore and just wanted to beat him to death to relieve some of my anger.

"Our King is one and true Lord of the Seven Kingdoms," The man said. His eyes were unfocused, but he still smiled like a lunatic. "The usurpers like you will not win. You will continue to struggle to the very end until you are put out of your misery."

"You will die long before that."

"I am prepared to die for my king. I have pledged my soul to him. He is chosen to rule and plunge the coming darkness."

"Enough, ser Jaime," Garlan dragged me away from the lunatic. "We need to think what our next actions should be."

"We can return to King's Landing," I said, frustration overtaking me. "Stannis' ultimate goal will be the Iron Throne. But I fear that it is what Stannis wants us to do."

"I have to agree," Garlan replied. "We could go the Riverlands and help Lord Tarly. It will be along the way to King's Landing, or we could split our forces, and while one goes through King's Landing, another could take Golden Tooth and enter the Riverlands from the West."

"If Stannis returned to the Stormlands, it would be to amass more men," I said, finally holding off my emotions from overtaking me. "If we split our forces, Stannis might ambush the one returning to King's Landing."

"We need to do something," Ser Garlan said, unsatisfied with my words.

"What can we do?" I asked as I couldn't think of anything. "We don't know anything, and every one of our actions could be predicted by Stannis. He trapped us. He knew we would come to Bitterbridge to chase his shadow after lifting the siege of Lannisport. He has predicted every action we took."

"It wasn't a prediction," Ser Garlan said. "He forced us to make these actions and played with us like we were puppets."

He was right. Stannis was too competent of a commander to lose a battle of equal forces. We knew that, and he knew that, so he knew that we didn't have enough men to face him and would join forces with Ser Garlan's host. Then, we would take the shortest route to Bitterbridge and would come from the West. And so, he crossed the bridge and destroyed it.

"Find a capable commander and give him five thousand men to return to Lannisport." I had to think of a way to counter Stannis, but nothing came to mind. "Make them stand by and wait for further orders. The rest of us will return to King's Landing."

Maybe Tyrion could have thought of a better plan, but I couldn't. It was better to take a safer way. From King's Landing, we can make a strategy. The Westerlands are out of Stannis' reach now, so maybe we could strike the Stormlands or force the Riverlands to surrender. Either way, we could move in any direction from King's Landing.

But Stannis knew that. So, we would be falling for another of his traps. Yet what else could I do? We couldn't stay here and do nothing. It would be only a waste of our time and resources. And I would rather enter the cave of the lion than wait for him to go on the hunt. I will keep my sword sharp for Stannis and cut through every one of the traps he sets for us.

As we prepared to leave Bitterbridge, I couldn't help but feel that Stannis Baratheon was watching our every move, his shadow looming over us like a specter of impending doom. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: the battle was far from over, and the war would continue to exact its toll on all Seven Kingdoms. But even so, I refused to give up, and with twelve thousand men in Lannisport, I could hope that my home would be protected.

A.N. As always, If you want more, up to seven advanced chapters, you can support me on pa treon. com \ ironwolf852. And if you have any requests for stories, I will only take them on my pa treon.