Hook, Line and Sinker

It was strange, for the first time since he started marching south, his mind was calm. Mere moments before his first battle was set to begin, he didn't feel doubt, nor fear, he was just calm. His eyes followed the movement of the rear of the Lannister cavalry, watching as they chased after the Blackfish and his men.

They were closing in rapidly, but it wasn't fast enough.

From the forest, three units of archers stepped forwards, drawing back their bows and releasing the archers into the air. Robb had positioned them in three different locations as to sow greater confusion amongst the Lannister ranks and to ensure that they couldn't mount a single charge on one unit without leaving their rear and flanks exposed.

One unit was positioned north east of the Lannister army, another south east and the final one south west. He had positioned most archers in the rear as to weaken that area the most so that they wouldn't be able to escape.

And as the arrows whistled through the air, he watched with satisfaction as they came down upon the Lannister host.

He looked at those around him, his personal guards consisting of numerous young noblemen and heirs of the North, there were even quite a few Frey's. It was a concession he had made under his mother's suggestion as to soothe the wounded pride of Stevron Frey, he'd even take on new Lord of the Twins younger brother, Olyvar Frey as his squire. Even going so far as to say it was the price he paid to cross the Twins, along with fostering the two Frey boys at Winterfell.

His mother had suggested he do this in order to at least give the Frey's something and to stop a growing resentment. Robb and many of the Northern lords had been hesitant, some outright believed they should refuse.

But Robb could see the sense in what his mother suggested and had done so.

Drawing his sword, the men surrounding him, numbering just under two thousand in number did the same. "Smalljon, sound the horn." He ordered firmly as he dug his heels into the side of his horse.

It slowly moved forwards but gradually picked up speed, the host of Frey and Northern cavalry following after this young commander. The sound of a dull horn, sounding like the howling of a winter wind echoed throughout the Whispering Woods.

And it was soon followed by two more horns, one from the north and one from the east.

All of it combined with the stampeding of hooves made for a terrifying sound.

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He nearly had them.

He was so very close and then he had heard it.

It was a sound he had become intimately familiar with since the war had begun, the sound of whistling as arrows cut through the air. 'It's a trap!' It was too late by then as he looked up to see hundreds of arrows descend upon his and his men.

He raised his shield and closed his eyes in preparation, hoping and praying to the Seven that he would survive.

The dull thunking sound of arrows striking shields and armour, the neighing of horses as they got peppered with arrows, cries of men as they were struck by arrows and the crunching of men being crushed by their own horses sounded all around him.

Lowering his shield he took note of the two arrows on it, and turned to face his men. His men had been unprepared for an ambush and so he'd lost quite a few. The Kingslayer turned back to see the archers in the tree-line, blatantly stood in full view as if taunting them.

And instead of charging them down, he hesitated, he and his cavalry coming to a slow halt.

"My lord, our rear is under attack!" One of his soldiers shouted and Jamie turned back, trying to see his rear over the top of his men. It was difficult, but he could make out another two units of enemy archers south east and west of their position.

'They lured us here.' He realised, quickly raising his shield when one of his men shouted out that the archers were firing once more.

Once again the archers descended upon them, killing and wounding many more, all the while the cavalry stood haplessly in the centre of the open field. Perfect for archers to pick them off one by one.

'I need to do something.' And like always, Jamie only had one thought on his mind when it came to battle. "Charge! The enemy don't have many men!" He ordered and urged his horse forward and his plan was simple, charge and kill the unit of archers north east of them then swing round and deal with those behind him.

Their scouts had reported that even combined, the scattered Riverland forces only made up around a thousand men, Jamie having done his job of killing any relieving force well. Even with the recent casualties he had taken, Jamie still outnumbered the enemy.

Or at least, that's what he thought as he heard a horn sounding in the distance, two more horns following soon after.

He looked around madly trying to find where they came from, only to freeze in shock. The world around him seemingly growing slower as he watched thousands of men burst from the tree-line and heading directly towards him. There was no discernible sigils, but he didn't need them to know where these men came from.

The Direwolf bounding alongside the young, auburn haired boy coming from the western force.

'The Northmen?! How? Our scouts reported them marching south to meet my father!' He barely had time to think as his western flank was struck by the northern host there, followed soon after by his eastern and then his front.

He was well and truly surrounded.