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Being Aerys by Xersin

Books » A song of Ice and Fire Rated: T, English, Drama & Humor, Aerys T., Rhaella T., OC, Words: 167k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Jun 14, 2017 Updated: Sep 1, 2017282Chapter 14: 14

XxX

"For the king! For Westeros!"

Prince Duncan cried out as he lead the charge of heavily armoured knights right towards right at the enemy. A charge I really did not want to be part off, as my horse rode as fast as it could right behind Duncan.

All around me, I could hear the sounds of battle all encompassing. The clash of steel on steel, the war cries and death throes of a thousand upon a thousand men, the thunder of hooves upon the earth and the splashing of water from the sea upon the beach.

Or was that blood?

All in all, I really did not want to be here. But here I was, a coward at the front of a charge into a writhing mass of humanity that would very much try to kill me if given the chance. I would have so very liked to just turn about, but you would be surprised that when you have a very good motivator of a several hundred armored men giving you 'motivation' to keep going forward.

Because frankly, I didn't know what was worse, getting trampled by the horses behind me or getting stabbed by something pointy by the people in front of me.

This was a horrible situation that I did not much care for.

Ser Barristan cried out from somewhere behind me, "To glory!"

For a mass of men as big as the one I was in, we moved with surprising co-ordination as we had somehow been able to stay in a relatively pristine wedge formation as we thundered across the open ground towards the enemy line.

"Oh fuck..." I more or less muttered as we crashed into the hastily formed line of men underneath a banner of some kind of stone giant.

Prince Duncan was one of the best knights in the Seven Kingdoms. Good with both sword and lance and it showed. His lance was able to break through a shield and rip a man's head off. Thankfully, I had seen enough sights of a like more than enough recently that I didn't feel like losing my lunch then and there.

His lance shattered, he had abandoned it and drawn out his sword quick like a whip and had started cutting down men left and right. Sers Gerold, Barristan and Gwayne had each killed a man with their lance and had each brought out their weapons to continue killing.

Blood flew and castle-forged steel slicked and shined red from the afternoon light upon the blood on it.

I lost track of what the others were doing after that. I was more or less concerned with staying alive, I had barely missed getting skewered by a pointy looking stick that might have been a spear or something similar before my horse hit something and ran over it.

Poor bastard.

His body was going to take on an excellent pastiche of a squashed tomato, grape or whatever fruit that squirt out juice when crushed.

The thing about sellswords is that, yes, you could about trust them about as far as you threw them, but when it came to war, they sought of knew their stuff. I'm sure they probably had never been at the receiving end of a knights charge before, but they had been on the receiving end of charges by Free Companies that either had cavalry among them, or mostly a cavalry based merc group.

In other words, they had tactics that could very well deal with cavalry when faced off against them.

"Unsullied!"

The tactic being the fucking Unsullied.

We hadn't seen them to be honest. Behind the first line of men we had crashed through and the relatively flat ground that we had been riding on, of course we couldn't have seen them.

But after breaking through the now blatantly obvious sword fodder, we could see a phalanx of Unsullied right in front of us. Spears gleaming held up before at the snap of a whistle snapped forward pointing in our direction.

I wasn't a tactician or that great of a strategist, hell, all of my military knowledge came from games such as Total War, but at the very least, I could very well like to say that I knew that spears and horses don't go all that well together.

I think Duncan knew this as well, but by then, the momentum of our charge was carrying us forward and there was really nothing that we could do about it. This was not going to end well, but at the very least, I hoped that we would be able to smash through the Unsullied.

They didn't seem to be that many of them, and their line seemed to be nothing more than three men deep, whether that was good or bad was beyond me. Then they started throwing javelins like they were all of a sudden Roman legionaries, the bastards.

Credit to them, they didn't aim for the riders. I think most of us were too heavily armoured for that bullshit. They aimed for the horses, which at best, some had leather barding for protection, but most didn't.

It didn't end well.

Not for the people at the forefront of the charge and certainly not for me.

My horse gave out right underneath me, sending me crashing to the ground. I think I must have sat a world record or something to how long I rolled and tumbled on the sand beneath me. As the world spun, I tried to get myself up or at the very least curl myself into a ball because I at least had the wits about me to remember that there were quite a number of armoured horsemen who had been right behind me and these horsemen might very well trample me with their horses if I was unlucky enough.

All the time, I was quietly muttering my prayers to whatever deity that was willing to listen. I also wondered whether getting trampled to death was a quick and painless death or was it slow and painful? I hoped for the former.

"Prince Aerys! Get up!" Ser Gwayne shouted as he yanked me to my feet. Somehow, he had been able to cut down two Unsullied that had been ready to stab some not so healthy holes into me.

The world still spun about, but I was beginning to get a handle on my bearings, "What happened?" That was a stupid question. I knew what happened. Unsullied happened. Unsullied and their stupid javelins happened.

Ser Gwayne didn't answer as moved to cut down some random sellsword that was not an Unsullied that had tried to capitalize on us thinking that one of us wasn't a seasoned killer who actually pained attention to his surroundings.

You know that sinking feeling you get in your stomach when you realise something bad was about to happen? Yeah, I was getting one of those. Lucky for me, it was a sunny day and I caught something shiny coming at me from my peripheral vision.

Thank the gods that I actually had a reasonable reaction time, or maybe I was one lucky son of a bitch to avoid getting stabbed straight in the head by another fucking javelin from an Unsullied. I was really starting to not like those dickless sons of bitches.

Sweet mother of all that's good and holy, somewhere in front of me, Duncan, Sers Gerold and Barristan had been somehow been able to break the Unsullied phalanx on foot and were cutting the slave soldiers with what I hoped was not contemptuous ease.

It probably didn't help that the only armour the Unsullied were wearing amounted to boiled leather, which didn't stand much of a chance against the castle-forged steel those three were wielding. Around them, around me, men fought and died like no tomorrow.

And Gerold just picked up a random Unsullied and threw him onto other Unsullied, with said thrown Unsullied being pierced by friendly spears. Wasn't he called the White Bull or something because he was freakishly strong?

I should think he deserved the nickname of White Hulk which was far more fitting as far as I was concerned.

In the midst of the melee, two Unsullied double teamed a knight that wore livery that was adorned with apples. Their spears scrapped against his armour, but one of them essentially sacrificed himself to make a grab for the knight and remove his great helm, just enough of an opening for the other Unsullied to puncture with his spear. Another knight introduced his morningstar to the head of one of the cannon fodder sellswords that had been able to survive the initial charge, making his head give a perfect impression of a crushed promenegade.

Oh wow, this was my first time seeing brains and bone all at the same time.

I was not going to be sleeping well tonight. Or ever. I hoped it was only for one night.

"Blackfyre!"

"What?" I turned my head at the shout and so some guy coming right at me, two axes in hand. He didn't look Westerosi and he seemed rather intent on seemingly wanting to kill me. I didn't agree with that.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I kept cursing underneath my breath as we caught blades. I was at a disadvantage, he had two axes and I only had one arming sword. I had a shield though, so that negated that advantage rather quickly when I realised that the thing on my left arm and weighing me down was used to defend yourself.

And attack as well when I rammed the edge of the kite shield into his face, enough I think, to sent some teeth flying and loosen them up. I found myself feeling rather good. I acted more on instinct after that act and swung at his neck, and blood sprayed out as the men clutched at his throat and started gurgling and drowning in his own blood.

Not long after that one, another one came at me and was trying to kill me. I killed him back. Where were these guys coming from? The Unsullied had been a surprise, but by the looks of things, their formation had been broken by the three one man armies that were the DGB (Duncan, Gerold, Barristan for those not in the know).

Fun fact, the Unsullied did not seem to farewell in single combat. It seems their entire strength came from being ridiculously disciplined sons of bitches that wouldn't break for your mama. When that was broken, against knights that had been training for something like this for their entire lives, they didn't really stand all that much of a chance.

That didn't mean they would just sit down and take a beating. They fought back. Sometimes, small units of Unsullied would band together under the command of an officer or sergeant...did Unsullied have officers and NCOs? Well, apparently they did.

They couldn't replicate the phalanx, but they could form something that looked rather similar to a schiltron formation. In other words, they stood in a circle or as close to a circle as they could, back to back and stabbed at anything that was trying to kill them or they didn't recognise as friendly.

I think I saw a couple of them kill their own allies.

With the amount of time that I had been swinging this stupid sword along with holding up a shield and all the armour I was wearing, I was quickly starting to tire out. I don't think I was the only one as well. Knights were starting to get sluggish with their movement, but their more lightly armoured opponents still moved with some life to them.

I think the only reason we were holding up for so long was because of said armour. It made it a bitch for the sellswords to kill us, whilst their lack of armour, made it rather easy for us to kill them in turn.

The thing is though, when things start going south or when things start looking to be a little difficult, sellswords tended to start running. They had started running quite a while back, but it was now more than noticeable.

They ran towards the main battle in the centre were their were more sellswords and the more elite Free Companies were located battling against the forces underneath the command of Lord Ormund.

I don't think they expected to see a detachment of cavalry separate from the battle and charge straight for them, a direwolf banner flapping freely in the breeze.

"Winterfell!"

It was a completely different experience seeing someone get trampled than actually trampling someone. If I cared enough or wasn't so tired, I think I would have winced quite a couple of times.

If Ser Rodrik's horse could so easily leave the front like they did, it probably meant that the battle had all but been won.

Good enough for me.

I needed a shower. Wait, there weren't any showers back at camp. So a bath then. To wipe all the grime, dirt and blood that was congealing on me.

I really hoped all the future battles weren't going to be as intense as these ones.

Then I realised this was just the first island of the Stepstones that we had taken and that there were a couple more to take to completely drive the Maelys' army out. That probably meant killing Maelys as well at some point.

Fucking brilliant.

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