The Riverlands
Hundred of soldiers bearing the lion banner marched away from the small community called Stoney Sept, the people there hung from many trees and others burned in their homes or drowned in the nearby river, this was the result of the ruling Lord leading his men in rebellion against the Crown.
Loren looked back with Lord Randyll Tarly and Willhelm and Damon.
If only the man had surrendered, then none of these traitors would be dead. Ah, but this is mostly the fault of their leader, the Blackfish.
His campaign had been going on for about a month, the battles that were fought being far and between, all were his victories on sheer numbers alone. He was a little weary, marching into the Riverlands to bring these Lords to heel, thinking back to the Dance where the Kingmaker and his ten-thousand men were torn to pieces and lost in the very forests and rivers they came to conquer.
But the Blackfish seems to be a terrible host, not surprising, really. It seems the man has forgotten his heritage, I'll have to show him my heritage, instead. The thought brought a smirk to his lips as he urged his horse to follow the column of thousands.
"A raven, Lord Lannister." A small boy approached and handed him a letter, the runt ran scared as soon as he got it.
Reading the scroll a genuinely proud smile graced him, reading about his future son's growth, the boy is kicking the walls inside of his mother now. He won't lie, he longs to feel Margaery's touch, the warmth of her body pressed to his own in the nights after a battle was won.
"Good news, I take it. Loren?" He turned to his cousin, Damon.
"Aye! My boy is growing stronger by the day. I hope to end this revolt and turn to home." He spoke boastfully, excited to end the Blackfish, wherever he is hiding.
"First, we have to take Riverrun. Once it falls, the Lords of the Riverlands will see no victory in fighting for the ambitions of ghosts." Randyll Tarly said, and he agrees.
"No truer words have ever been spoken. Onward! We have trout to flay!" With a resounding cry from his soldiers, a swift victory will follow.
Unknown, On the Sea
A man was thrown to the floor, beaten and bloodied from the battle that just took place at Fair Isle.
He looked up and gasped at what he saw, the new King of the Iron Islands.
Euron Greyjoy is pale, with black hair and a dark beard. He wears a patch over his left eye, shinning with the same malice that took this mans family from him.
"Crow's Eye!" The beaten man croaked out in hatred, looking up to his enemy sitting on his throne. The crew of the ship didn't laugh, seeing as most are mute, their tongues being cut out and lips blue from drinking shade of the evening. "You have the nerve, attacking the Seven Kingdoms! Did Balon's last rebellion teach you brutish lot nothing!" Euron finally smiled as he heard the fool shouting at him.
He came home, he took the Seastone Chair and crown for himself at the Kingsmoot, besting his niece, brother and fool nephew. In the night he killed Victarion and Aeron, sadly, Asha and Theon escaped with close to twenty ships, HIS ships that he needed to strike.
Yet, as it turns out, he didn't need them, no, he only needed a few to send his message to the one man who could possibly match him in his brutal tactics.
He's heard about the Scourge of the Stormlands. The Scarred Lion. The Blood Lion and so on. It came to him as a challenge, a challenge he will gladly accept as he takes all the seas and lands he sets his sights on, and the first of those lands are what his ancestor took, but could never keep... Westeros.
"That's where you have it wrong, I have what my brother didn't. Want to know it?" He asked the prisoner and got up close to the sod, "I have the power to take it all." Before the captive could respond, he shoved a dagger through the Reacher Lords throat, hauled him up as he still clung to life and threw him overboard.
Turning around, he didn't need to utter a command before the crew began making plans to set sail again.
Their next target is Lannisport, to hit the kitten where it hurts the most once more before pushing forward and up to the Arbor and Old Town.
King's Landing
Margaery was with her handmaidens and friends, chatting amongst themselves as they enjoyed the rather cool day, instead of the scorching hot it has been in the last several weeks.
Pregnancy wasn't something that appealed to her before losing her maidenhead, or before marriage itself but when it finally happened... It all seems so natural. She loves the fact that Loren child is within her, HER child is growing inside her, it's exhilarating almost.
"Have you chosen a name for her?" Her handmaid, Mira asked her and she frowned at the prospect of a daughter, tasteless even.
Of course, she'd want a girl, just not right now, not a first child. She wants a boy, no, needs a boy. Loren isn't like some men, he prefers a strong son than a cunning daughter, no matter how proud the child would make him. This must stem from growing under a man like Tywin. The thought made the frown deepen.
Tywin, no matter how much Loren praises him had ruined the man. Loren is cold to those he feels are beneath him, he looked at his lesser family with disgust, even went to scheming against his own siblings. Loren holds his pride more than his honor or the ties of family, and if she gives him a daughter, it will hurt him.
That's why she needs a son, not just for Loren's sake but for herself and her families, a daughter could ruin everything.
"I haven't chosen a girls name. I have, however, chosen a boys name, something I hope Loren approves of." She hinted and her other handmaid, Sera giggled.
"Well I know he'll be a handsome man when he is grown, Lady Margaery. Perhaps even more handsome than the King's future children." That is true, it is impossible to think a proper child will ever come from Queen Shireen, but the Prince will have much more to replace handsome features, he'll have power.
That is if Loren wishes to share it, which he won't.
"Enough about the Queen or Loren and I. How has your family been, Myra?" She asked the girl with a hint of pity, she'd promised the Northerner that when she became Queen for Joffrey, that she'd help Mira's family in their troubles with House Whitehill and Bolton.
"Well. I haven't heard from them- " Mira was saying before the doors to their room opened, in came her brother, Ser Loras and her father.
"Father, brother, what brings you to visit us?" She asked and her father cleared his throat as he answered her question.
"I have just come back from a meeting with the Small Council. A raven from the North came, House Bolton fell six days ago to a coalition led by Lord Eddard Starks bastard, and... And... " Her father stopped and she looked to Loras to finish and her brother frowned, in deep sorrow.
"It's Garlan, sister. Our brother fell at Fair Isle. He is dead."
Winterfell
Jon Snow looked over the body of his brother, lost in the battle against Ramsey and Roose Bolton.
When he'd heard of Arya reappearing in the North, to marry Ramsey, he swore to stop it and abandoned the Wall, not without promising to bring the might of the North to bear on the White Walkers.
It had turned out that his sister wasn't there, but his other sister's friend, Jeyne Poole. He was devastated and felt ashamed of himself for forsaking his vows to the Night's Watch for the wrong person, he almost ordered for his own execution by the Lords that have followed him to battle.
Lord Cerwyn refused, so had Alys Karstark's new husband, and even House Umber, Mormont, and Forrester refused to obey the order. Instead, they told him that the North needs a Stark to lead it.
It was the first time he felt what his father had done, the heaviness of being responsible for the people under him, only this time it was an entire Kingdom instead of the Wall. He looked around this room of Northmen and Wildlings that he saved from Beyond the Wall when he'd chosen to surrender.
He was sure if Alliser and the others were still alive, they'd have hanged him by his feet and lopped his head off. But he made the choice to reason with Mance to save thousands for being meat and soldiers for the White Walkers.
Some from the North saw this as treason, others saw it as an opportunity to defeat the Bolton's and take back their homes. When he'd heard Arya was North and marrying Ramsey Bolton, he swore to end him because that meant a death sentence for her when she gave birth to a boy with Stark blood. He marched south, joined by a dozen Houses and thousands of Free Folk, all fighting for him.
It ended at Winterfell, twelve-thousand Bolton, and allies against him and well over eighty-nine-thousand men, a majority of them being Free Folk and nine being from those Houses that have stood with House Stark for thousands of years. Mormont, Glover, Umber, Cerwyn, Manderly, some Karstark, the Mountain Clans, and Reed. The battle was bloody and Roose held on long, but inevitably fell, Roose's son had tried to stab him in the back but Ghost took him out.
Now his home was his again, the North was his, it was strange to think such a thing. Whatever your name, you are my blood, you are a Stark. He remembered his father's words the day his family separated for the last time, and it brought a sad smile to his lips.
"I'll protect them all. I promise, father." He muttered and walked down the hall, Ghost following right behind him like a shadow.
The Riverlands
Moments ago, he'd thought this was going to a peaceful march towards Riverrun. Instead, he saw no more than a thousand Tully riders waiting for them.
He ordered for the army to give chase, thinking and mocking that this was all the resistance House Tully could give him? It was almost insulting and he'd make the Blackfish pay for his belligerence.
He was wrong. He shouldn't have acted so impulsively and heeded Randyll Tarly's advice in sending a small portion, instead he ordered a full assault and now he's paying for it.
On the left and right, hundreds of men bearing no sigils attacked his flanks in a pincer attack, he pointed them out as members of the Brotherhood Without Banners. He turned his destrier left, battled one of the horsemen from the thousand riders who also turned around and attacked. He cursed himself for his own audacity, this was his blunder to his own pride and he hates it.
"Loren! We have to retreat!" Damon said after saving him, he grit his teeth and shook his head.
"No! We have the numbers, we will keep fighting!" Damon looked at him with a look of horror, possibly believing him insane.
"Our men are demoralized, this attack is confusing them! We have to go and recover our losses, COUSIN!" He was snapped and brought back to reality.
He looked across the battlefield and saw much chaos, they were being attacked on three sides and losses were nearing a damaging level. If he stays any longer then he risks being killed and all that he's worked for will be for nothing. His thoughts came to a halt when he saw two men appear away from the field, the man was beside a woman who was grey with scars across her face.
The deceased wife of Ned Stark, she was beside the Blackfish and Thoros of Myr.
He gave the call for retreat, half his army were crossing a bridge before he turned and saw Willhelm stop his black mare and dismount.
"Willhelm, what are you doing!?" He called out to the man who was his friend and shield, Willhelm looked back to him and readied his battle-ax for defense.
"I will protect your path, Lord Loren. I will hold the line." He couldn't believe what was being said, was the man he counted on the most truly sacrificing himself.
He pushed his destrier forward, refusing to look back and see this as his greatest defeat. They marched towards the Golden Tooth, as they couldn't go back to King's Landing, fearing another ambush with no help of a missing scout party.
He's lost a number 400 men in the battle, and he'd been in a sour mood since then and it didn't help with word coming from the Freys, a bastard with a large army had retaken the North, and a raven coming from King's Landing that Ser Garlan and 50 Redwyne ships fell at Fair Isle, this has all been disastrous.
It's as if his fortunes are reversing, he has to stop this.