chapter 29

Robb thanked the Gods when he was greeted by both his father and brother. Both looked hale, though his father seemed to have more worry lines on his face. Bran looked older, though he was not much bigger than when they had parted. Grey Wind and Duty celebrated their reunion and began chasing each other. Robb saw that Duty had grown larger, but Grey Wind was faster.

"It is good to see you," his father said, emotion bleeding through in his tone.

Bran was less restrained and practically tackled him with a hug.

"It is good to see you both. Our vassals try me at every turn!" Robb was thrilled that he would no longer have to deal with Umber and the rest. Father was here, and he could take command.

Eddard chuckled. "Aye, they'll do that. You've done well; I see an orderly march, with much of our strength successfully gathered."

Robb felt a warmth in his chest and gave his father a grateful nod.

"Robb, select 50 men who will escort Bran back to Winterfell; he'll be safe there," Eddard instructed.

Bran immediately objected. "No! I don't want to be sent away. Duty can help fight; he's the only reason I survived the attack in the Kingswood."

Eddard frowned. "There are tens of thousands of soldiers likely to fight within weeks. Your wolf won't change the course of battle. You aren't old enough, and your brother Rickon is no doubt missing you."

"But…"

Robb put a hand on Bran's shoulder. "Our Lord Father has given the command. Mother will also be pleased to see you."

Bran cast his eyes downward and mumbled his agreement. Robb selected Dacey Mormont to lead the 50 riders to escort his brother back. Robb could tell that Dacey was both honored and frustrated in turn by her given task, but she bowed her head without complaint.

Robb spoke more with his father that night, and they shared their experiences. He was shocked upon hearing that it was Myrcella who had saved his father's life.

"She's dangerous, Robb. She was taught how to use poison. My men report that she was the one throwing knives during the battle with deadly accuracy. She weaves lie and truth together so seamlessly that no man can tell the difference. Despite all that, she has behaved honorably towards Bran and has saved my life. I believe she will respect parley and guest-right, but if you are not under those conditions, do not ever underestimate her."

Robb knew that his father did not speak lies, but it seemed far-fetched to believe that the intelligent and kind young girl who had dined with him could kill so easily. Something must have shown on his face.

"I'm deadly serious, Robb. She is likely with Tywin right now; Tywin is clearly a monster, but I believe Myrcella Baratheon may be as dangerous in her own way."

Robb nodded slowly. "I'll heed your warning, father. Fortunately, I can now leave those sorts of decisions to you."

"For now," Eddard replied. "The Stormlords and Tywin's host have combined and are marching on us. We could clash within the next few days, and with the numbers on each side, a decisive win could decide the war. I have no intention of dying on the field of battle. I will not shirk my duty, and I will be commanding our host. I will put you in charge of a reserve force, and it will be your decision on when to use them."

"But father, I…"

"No, son, I know you are worried, but you will be the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North after me."

Robb exhaled, "Yes, father."

It was only a few days later, and the King had advised his father that they would be attacking the Lannisters. Robb was deeply confused.

"Father, why would the King abandon this position? We hold the Trident, and between the river and the palisades, we can make the Lannisters bleed. Every day we wait, the Tully army has another day to reach us, and with them, the numbers would greatly favor us. The Lannisters must either attack us or retreat."

"I know; it is Lady Melisandre's doing. She's convinced Stannis that Lord Tywin will die through fortuitous means. Likely some fanatical assassin she's hired, and her visions show that it will be a success," Eddard answered him.

Robb did not like relying on assassination; it wasn't honorable. "And there's no chance we can convince him otherwise?"

Eddard shook his head. "I've tried, as have the Blackfish and Ser Davos. We'll leave behind our fortifications and attack the enemy. Tywin's center will face Lord Nestor and the Valemen. The Lords of the Narrow Sea, free riders, and the few Riverland houses will hold our eastern flank under the command of Ser Bryden. I will have command on the western flank with the bulk of the North. King Stannis will have a small contingent in reserve. You will command the reserves for the North. Mostly Karstark and Umber cavalry."

Robb still wasn't thrilled by the role he had to play, but he would do his duty. He kept his face impassive as his father continued.

"The bulk of the enemy consists of the Lannisters, who will be facing us and the Vale forces. The Stormlands have positioned their soldiers on the eastern flank. The Gods have smiled upon us in that at least; Stark against Baratheon would make Robert weep."

Eddard discussed a few ways the battle could go. Tactics that may be used, how to lead the men, and the importance of keeping his helm on during battle. Robb committed everything he could to memory.

"Most of all, trust your instincts. You've a good head on your shoulders – trust it."

Robb took a deep breath and exhaled. "I won't let you down."

***

Bran hated that he had been forced to leave for Winterfell. He knew how awful battle was, but he also knew that Duty could help. He also didn't dare complain out loud; Dacey Mormont was an imposing figure, nearly as tall as Brienne. Bran had ridden with her and peppered her with questions about how she thought the battle would go, but she confessed that this was her first war. She had been too young to fight against the Ironborn during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

So, despite his misgivings, Bran had had every intention to obey his father – until the dream. It was more than a dream, more than a nightmare. It had felt so real. He saw Robb. He saw father. He saw Theon. He saw them fighting. It was a whirl, a blur of blood and steel, death, and injury. But some pieces stood out, in horrifying clarity.

He saw a giant, someone bigger than even Hodor kill everything around him. He saw Grey Wind cut down trying to protect Robb. He saw Robb's lifeless eyes staring at the sky. He saw… more, but his vision changed. His view was that of a bird, and it flew across the North toward the Wall. There, he saw the Wall and all its impossible majesty. The earth shook, and then the wall came tumbling down. He willed himself to go lower to see if he could determine if Jon was there, but he couldn't see any people, alive or dead.

A distant howl arose, and he jolted upright. Duty was not beside him, even though it had been his howl that had woken him. Bran crawled out of his tent. There were half a dozen Mormont men awake, two by the fire and the others wandering slowly around their makeshift camp.

Bran knew what he had to do. He'd need Duty's help. More than anything else, he needed to get back and warn his brother. He gathered the things he would need, and Duty arrived. The men were still nervous around the direwolf, though they were getting used to seeing the large predator peacefully wander about.

"Duty, I don't know how, but you seem to understand what I say. I need you to lead the men away after I hide…"

Bran put his plan into motion. He found a hiding spot among one of the tents that was used by the men still awake. He slowly and carefully approached it and crawled inside. Then Duty did the rest. Duty howled and barked right outside of Bran's original tent. This roused the camp, and they quickly discovered Bran's absence. Duty then raced west, barking and howling. When the men moved too slowly, he doubled back to them and then forward again, urging them to follow.

Dacey shouted, "Follow the wolf!"

Nearly every Northman followed, and the few that were left in camp that night were busy trying to pack up the belongings; it would be easy to slip east and then head back south while Duty gave them a chase. Duty would then find his way back to him; he knew it. He would warn Robb, or if he was too late, he would send Duty in to protect his brother!

***

Kevan Lannister could scarcely believe the magnitude of the follies occurring in King's Landing. The Tyrell boy had been killed by his grandnephew, the King, in full view of open court. This was after the Knight of Flowers had revealed that he was being tortured and maimed while in captivity. Doing that to a Paramount Lord's child, one who had been neutral had almost 100,000 swords he could rally to his cause… Kevan slumped in his chair.

"This is sheer madness; we were already outnumbered, and now this?" Kevan complained to Tywin.

Tywin maintained a stoic expression, but Kevan knew his brother was furious.

"We have no choice now; we must assault their position with all haste."

Stannis had fortified the crossroads, holding the Trident. He had palisades and dug-in troops –, it would be extremely difficult to dislodge them or find places where they could be broken. They thought they would have more time to consider other tactical options with the Tully army slowed; now it would have to be an all-out assault. It would be a horrifically bloody assault.

"I'll coordinate with Ser Barristan; we can have the men ready by noon the next day." Kevan paused, "The Stormlords have suggested a night assault; should we consider it?"

Tywin shook his head in a firm denial. "No, I need to be able to see how the battle is shaping. If it turns out against us, we can attempt an orderly retreat. If Stannis pursues us and abandons his defenses, we have options."

Kevan didn't think that was very likely; if they lost on the Trident, the Tully army would join the Stannis and Stark forces, and any battle to oppose them in open field would face long odds. They could fight defensively, even defend the city of King's Landing against a numerically superior foe. But now, time would not be on their side, with the Tyrells no doubt marching with a mighty host. They were well and truly buggered if the assault failed.

Kevan made the arrangements. Ser Barristan had grave misgivings about the plan involving a cross-river assault against a prepared foe. However, the need to strike was made clear with the news from the capital. They would coordinate more in earnest at an early meeting with the main commanders at dawn and then begin their assault as the heat of the day made itself known. There was hope that the Northern contingent would be unused to fighting in the height of Summer in the south during those times – a faint hope, but any advantage they could eke out they would.

Ser Barristan, Ser Bonifer, Lady Brienne, Lord Caspar Wylde, Lord Alesander Staedmon, and Myrcella Baratheon would come to discuss the particulars of the assault. The Westerlands would have their primary notables in attendance as well. Lord Crakehall and his sons, Ser Gregor, Ser Harys, Lord Andros Brax, and Lord William Serrett would be present.

There were always a hundred things for Tywin's second-in-command to do, but Kevan took a few moments to pen a letter to his wife Dorna. There were no certainties in battle, and with their son dead, he would provide what comfort he could until he could no longer do so.

Kevan only had a few hours of sleep before waking up pre-dawn. Tyrek Lannister had been newly made his squire and shadowed him to the massive tent where his brother held court. The Stormlords had been prompt and arrived mere moments after Ser Kevan, one of the first, arrived. In addition to the expected lords, Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard had joined. The man's white cloak was pristine, a sharp contrast to everyone else's garb that showed signs of wear and travel.

"Good morning, Uncle Kevan," Myrcella greeted warmly. The early hour seemed to agree with the doll-like girl. Her black and gold martial attire was capped off with a dagger with a dragon-bone hilt at her waist. It was fascinating how a young child wearing a dagger openly like that had spawned so many outlandish tales.

"Good morning, Lady Baratheon," he inclined his head slightly. She was his grandniece, but also a princess and a Lady Paramount.

They were ushered in, and Myrcella took her place to the left of Tywin, with Ser Barristan seated next to her. Kevan took his place at Tywin's right hand, and the Stormlords filled in down the line of chairs on Ser Barristan's side. Lady Brienne and Ser Arys stood post by the entrance of the tent. Next came the vassals to Tywin. All the major field commanders followed, including the massive Ser Gregor, already armored in plate. Kevan always worried that the chair would give beneath the crushing weight of it all.

In a heavy voice, the Mountain growled, "My men tell me that the enemy is moving about and restless. They know we are going to attack; I wonder if these Stormlords are as loyal as they say."

Alesander Staedmon slammed his fist on the table. "How dare you impugn our honor. Why would we warn the enemy?"

Lord Andros shrugged, "I'm sure that Ser Gregor did not mean to accuse you specifically, but many of you first swore to Stannis. It is natural to assume that some of your men may still have loyalty to the man they swore for. I would never accuse you, Lord Alesander, but perhaps if you led the assault on the main ford, it would end this sort of talk."

Several began to speak at once, but Ser Barristan spoke over them. "We will not be making battle arrangements based on accusations or pride. I am sure that Lord Tywin has thought carefully on the layout of our forces. I am curious what his proposal is."

Kevan couldn't help but admire the deft play. They had known Tywin couldn't really suggest that the Stormlords bear the brunt of the fighting and the most dangerous role; yet, if a hot-headed Stormlord insisted on leading the vanguard, that would be different. Ser Barristan had headed that line of thought off handily.

Tywin acknowledged the old knight with a nod. "Lord Crakehall will have command of the van and force through a breach. Ser Gregor will seek to cross the river's narrower portions in the west. Ser Barristan, you will push forward with your infantry and keep your knights in reserve. Once we have breached their defenses, you will ride forward; if possible, you will attempt to flank all the way around their encampment and attempt to slay Stannis." Kevan had talked with Tywin earlier about their goals here. Victory was critical, but if they could slay Stannis, that was key. The war wouldn't be over, thanks to the folly of his grandnephew, but it would make many things easier.

Ser Harys Swyft looked concerned. "My lord, if they know we are coming, it will be difficult to force their lines to give."

Ser Kevan loved his wife, but he did not love his wife's father. The man spoke just to hear himself speak. He spoke things everyone was already aware of.

Lyle Crakehall's voice boomed out, "Fret not, Swyft, we'll push our way through. I'll put them to rout, and then you can come chase them down."

Ser Barristan began asking another question when Kevan felt a chill flow through the large command tent. A tent flap had somehow been blown open by the wind. Wait, that was odd. It had been a typical balmy summer night – why would it be cold?

"Assassin!" Myrcella's voice cried out as she launched herself directly into Tywin Lannister.

Kevan was barely registering what his eyes were seeing as Myrcella practically blurred from her seat and slammed into her grandfather, toppling him and his chair to the ground. At the same time, Kevan saw the shadow of a blade slash through where Tywin had been sitting and continued on to strike cleanly through the edge of the table. Kevan saw a flash of silver glint and then ricochet off the shadowy figure. No, not a shadowy figure, but a figure of shadow itself, black as night.

Brienne of Tarth charged at the shadow before anyone else had even drawn their arming swords. Her sword lashed out, and the shadow's dark blade cut through the weapon. It moved again, slashing at the tall woman's face. Her quickness meant that she kept her head, but the blade sheered through her helmet and cut into her face, sending her to the floor.

Kevan had his arming sword out as he backed away. The shadow turned to Tywin, who was trying to back away on the ground. It took one step forward, and two more metallic blurs struck the shadow and bounced away.

What is this thing? What is going on?

Ser Barristan had thrown back his chair and drawn his blade, as had others now, but fear kept most in their place. It rushed forward toward Tywin again, and Kevan saw Myrcella stand up and draw the dagger at her waist and rush to match.

The shadowy sword casually swiped at the diminutive form, only to miss completely as Myrcella dodged with easy agility.

"Myrcella, away!" Ser Barristan called out.

But she didn't back away. Instead, she lashed out with a dagger of rippling steel and drove it into the leg of the shadow. A piercing shriek keened through the air, causing many to wince. The sound filled Kevan with supernatural dread. The creature lashed out with its lightless blade, almost faster than the eye could see, but each time, Myrcella was not there. Ser Barristan struck a blow, but it rebounded futilely, while Myrcella once again drove her dagger into the shadowy creature, eliciting another long wail.

The Mountain heaved a chair, and it crashed into the shadow to no avail. The blade of shadow danced, but it could not touch Myrcella, and for a third time she rammed her dagger into the creature. This time, she struck the creature's heart, and the darkness drained away and dissipated.

Tywin had found his feet, and the expression of shock on his face was one Kevan had never seen.

Ser Bonifer's voice rose, utterly filled with awe. "It is written… written in The Seven-Pointed Star that spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armored in his faith."

"What in the Seven Hells was that?" Gregor shouted disbelievingly. Lannister guardsmen rushed in to see what was going on, but saw no foes.

"Guard the outside of the tent, bring as many lights as you can and raise a cry if you see any shadows," Kevan commanded.

"Shadows?" The guards looked confused.

"Just do it!" he growled, his blood pumping through his body and his heart racing. He looked to his grandniece and saw that she had rushed over to Brienne, who was on the ground.

Another guardsman rushed in. "My lords! They're attacking, up and down the line; Stannis has launched an all-out assault!"

***

Lum had remained in Myrcella's employ instead of joining his fellow Lannister soldiers. He greatly preferred it that way. He had been given a role with the outriders in scouting for potential spots to cross the Trident. It had not rained in a while, so there were several places one could wade through; unfortunately, it appeared their enemy had also mapped them out and stationed archers and spears to block the way.

However, when not with the outriders, he had been assigned to a Stormlander archery unit. They were a ragtag group, mostly hunters and folks who knew the bow for their livelihood, not archers who were castle-trained. They wouldn't be able to fire as one or have the distance of great longbows, but they could aim and kill at a decent range. They had also been told to memorize certain trumpet signals. Lum thought he had them all down, but he knew not everyone did. That was fine; as long as enough were confident and could remind each other, they would do what the trumpets bid. It was far better to be in a unit like this than on the frontlines.

Among his other duties, Myrcella also expected him to regularly check in with her so she could ask what the regular soldiers and smallfolk were thinking. This was very different from other Lannisters; Lum wasn't sure what she did with the information, but he obeyed. Even when he shared news that was not positive, she never asked for names to punish.

It had been a surprise to hear trumpets blare and to see the opposing army begin rushing across the Trident. Tywin and Myrcella's combined armies were not positioned to contest the crossing; their camp wasn't at the edge of the river but about a mile back. No one had thought that Stannis would be the one attacking.

It suited Lum just fine. Myrcella always commanded her men to build cavalry traps. A series of small, narrow holes that would stymie charging horses completely. After the holes were dug, fabric was placed over them and another thin layer of dirt added atop. Banners were arrayed in a particular fashion, letting everyone in camp know where to avoid. Lum grabbed his bow and joined the two hundred strong Stormland archers. Some had light crossbows, others short bows and hunting bows.

Lady Baratheon was with the Lion Lord, along with many of the top commanders. Some big, important meeting, that Lum was glad not to be involved with. As terrifying as Cersei Lannister was, her father was more so. Fortunately, Myrcella had left capable people behind, and they quickly rallied. Across their section of the field, Lum could spot the banners of several houses, though he knew not their names. There was one with red crabs and another with a green background and some sea creature on it. More banners, a swordfish, next to a purple banner with two horsemen. He did recognize some of the banners; the black plowman of Darry was the most recognizable.

When the enemy crossed and made to climb the riverside, a thick wall of Baratheon infantry greeted them. Lum and his group started arcing arrows over their side's heads. Shields were raised up to protect their heads, and Lum drew and shot as rapidly as he could. For all the lack of disciplined volley, he knew an arrow was an arrow, and they thinned the ranks of the enemy.

The enemy knights had taken to the field, and hastily-formed pike units were looking to stop the inevitable charge. A specific trumpet cadence sounded out, and now the Baratheon infantry began to give ground.

Lum saw the Baratheon banner coming from the central camp, and he knew that it no doubt meant that Myrcella, Ser Barristan, and the other leaders were returning from their rendezvous. Their own mounted knights were beginning to form a solid fist of steel.

The Baratheon infantry was backing away and back into the palisades that had been constructed. It was a thin, interspersed line of pointed wood – nothing that couldn't be easily dealt with, but its existence prevented a mounted rush. It also gave the Baratheon foot a respite from a full assault while Stannis's forces moved to tear them down and free a path.

His own unit was pulled back and given a brief respite to drink water, eat some sweet bread, refill their quivers, and then move back into firing position. More of the army was now across the Trident, and the enemy knights were ready to charge. Lum could see his own side's pike formation mill about in supposed confusion, baiting the enemy to charge.

Bait was used because bait often worked. Sure enough, the enemy came forth, hoping to smash through the pike before they could be properly set and prepared. The charge lost a few horses to the first set of spaced-out holes, but then as the number of holes increased, it became a complete mess as horses broke legs and threw riders; not all the charging mass of horseflesh behind the first rows managed to stop, and it became a nightmarish mess of downed men and horses. The pikemen suddenly no longer milling around charged forward. Their pikes were not ideal weapons against fallen knights, but dozens of men with daggers would be rushing in to stab through lifted visors and joints. Lum couldn't see it happening, but the tactic had been told to the camp – four men to a downed knight, hold his limbs in place and then kill. The instructions were not completely normal; knights could often be ransomed, but the call had been made and daggermen identified for the role. As a consolation prize, a suit of plate was quite expensive, and if the only real damage was a few dents from a fall, it would fetch a tidy sum. While that savagery was going on, Lum's unit was still firing arrows deeper into the enemy lines.

Another trumpet called out, and he stopped firing. Ser Barristan was here and had pulled together several hundred knights, and now they skirted the prepared holes perfectly and lanced through the still-milling knights, whose charge had been so devastatingly halted. The enemy foot tried to close in, but Ser Barristan's group had already pushed clear through the formation, unleashing a devastating toll on the enemy knights.

Now the Baratheon infantry advanced with a roar. Lum saw Ser Jaspar's massive frame lead the charge. Meanwhile, another group of knights were forming up and looking to flank the massed infantry of the enemy. Lum couldn't tell how the rest of the battle was going, but on the eastern side, things looked to be going very well!