The Battle Of Deepwood Mote

The Heir to the Iron Throne was trekking across the snows of the Wolfswood, the largest and most dangerous of all forests in the North. Prince Jacob had hunted here, when he was previously a lord.

The forest was large, and the prince remembered hearing wolves howling in the night when he had been hunting with Ned Stark, Uncle Robert and a few other northmen. It was made up of many kinds trees, such as the oak, evergreen and black brier, as well as the sentinels. The prince could see the rare ironwood trees, which reminded him of the bloody battle against the traitorous Whitehills of Highpoint, whom were stationed in the lands of their rivals House Forrester, in serve of the Boltons.

Prince Jacob had an aching pain on his left arm, it had been from the fighting at Highpoint. They had been stationed here for five days after the short, but bloody battle. The first victory on their Northern Campaign was to march through the woods, make way through the passage on the Forrester lands and to launch a surprise attack on the remaining Whitehill soldiers stationed there.

The battle was won because Highpoint was lightly garrisoned, due to Lord Ludd Whitehill and his sons taking the best crop of their armies towards Winterfell, lending their support for the Boltons, however the Lady Gwyn was taken as a hostage, maybe his father Stannis will threaten her life to lure the Lord of Highpoint and his sons to stand and fight against him on the field.

Most of the Queen's Men, whom journeyed south with Jacob and Stannis called for the Whitehill girl to die for the sins of her father and brothers, but she was a valuable pawn to draw the cowardly lord of Highpoint and his sons away from their Bolton and Frey allies. If Lord Ludd's only daughter was in danger; he would either abandon the girl to her fate or come to save her. She was a hostage to his father and nothing more than a pawn to separate the Whitehills from the Boltons if the time came.

The battle had ended, and now King Stannis and Prince Jacob had control of the Wolfswood and the Forrester Ironwood. There was another battle ahead, and ridding Ironrath of Whitehills gave the rightful king and his heir the perfect route to pass their hosts through, towards Deepwood Motte.

The prince's heart ached, whilst walking around the war camp, which was full of mixed sigils, since the mountain clans of the north had joined his father in the fighting. He missed his mother and sister, but he understood why he needed to continue the war in his father's name. The victory at Highpoint drew new additions to his father's side, with the Forresters and Cerwyns joining them.

Prince Jacob turned back to see his sworn shield catch up to him. Sorrell looked like he could pass for a northerner with his fully grown dark beard and bald head. The prince wasn't in need of protection, he was a warrior in his own right and was trained by Randyll Tarly. His mother Queen Selyse feared for his safety when he left her again to march west through the mountainous regions of the north.

"Are you prepared for battle, Your Grace?" Sorrell asked, in a tone of bitterness and uncertainty.

"I am ready to throw the Ironborn back into the sea, the traitors of House Whitehill may have escaped my wrath, but the Ironborn will not have that fortune. The castle is fortified with strong walls, and they might dare to escape back to their lonesome ships." Prince Jacob replied.

"The storm will be upon us, my prince. I hope I get to slay as many Ironborn as I did the Whitehill men. The Queen's Men are growing restless, they want the Whitehill girl to burn for the sins of her father and brothers. I would agree, the girl is no use to our cause."

"She is a lord's daughter and can be married off to one of our northern allies, but having her marry a southerner would be what my father will suggest, to punish the girl and to get rid of her. Keeping her as a hostage will only be to lure her fat father out of hiding."

"Your father is meaning to speak with you. The northerners have a lot to grip about. Their liege lord butchered at a wedding and the north being ruled by a cutthroat and butcher, who lives by those titles to his name."

"I'm not afraid of the Leech Lord. Between him and his bastard, Roose Bolton looks to be more intelligent and reasonable. His bastard cannot control his urges and tendencies, just like Joffrey."

"I'm afraid for your life, my prince. This war will have you and your father in the grave. The steel in your heart will not stop you fighting, but if you have to fight to please your father, at least let me fight all your battles at your side."

"My father is Uncle Robert's true heir, but father doesn't have the respectability or inclination to win the nobility and the Faith to his side. I can. My father is only a battle commander and a solider, but I am a game player. I learned from Lady Olenna as a child, spying on the Tyrells and their bannermen, even when she said my own clever mind would get me killed one day. My faith in the Seven has kept the southerners loyal to my father, but it can help convince the High Septon to give my father clemency, and a chance of redemption in the eyes of the gods."

"It's a dangerous game, my prince. To potentially be a threat to your own father. It's a shame, your father does not see your true worth and what you have to offer him. You have been a political pawn, since the day you were born. The Florents only see you as advancement for their house, the Lannisters see you a threat to their stranglehold on the kingdoms and your father only sees you as his heir and nothing more."

"My father does love me, even though he is not the type of man to be showing affections. He values me, unlike these knights and lordings, who are only with him to gain lordships from him as rewards."

The prince's guilty psyche never left him alone. He was sick of it all; being blamed, threatened and shamed for only doing his duty to his father. The same father, who trusts him over all the other men loyal to him. The young man embraced the role of a soldier and killer, it was what Uncle Robert wanted him to become, as great as he was at his prime. Jacob never thought much about his favourite uncle, not wanting the empty sadness of him not being here in the world to resurface.

The war camp had other tents, with the sigils of the northern houses, whom have joined his father.

Prince Jacob had Sorrell on his side, the only man willing to keep his secrets. It made him realise the big hole Davos's absence had within him. The prince missed the Onion Knight, but he knew why he was gone. He asked Davos to find him a wife from House Manderly, to disrupt his father's plot in marrying him off to Alys Karstark. He did not want to voice the truth of not wanting to marry either of the northern girls on offer. It made him face his noring fear of being rejected by unattainable girls again.

The young man was close to winning Margaery Tyrell's hand, but his suit was rejected. Mathis Rowan's daughter was soiled from allowing a bard into her bed. He was never allowed to marry Desmera Redwyne, his first love because of his father, and he resented his sire since that day.

He was the rightful Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, not some silly boy mourning over a girl. Not just any girl, a highborn maid, who had been his first kiss, during their frequent moments in Highgarden.

"I was only a young man, of four and ten, when I fell in love with Desmera. Uncle Robert said losing your first love cuts deeper than a sword wound. It was what I felt when I was not allowed to see her again, by the chagrin of her lord father and my own father."

A tear fell from the prince's eye. For his lost youth and innocence. He was only young, when he lost Desmera, she was not dead, but in his heart, it felt like she was gone from the world. Jacob wiped the tear, not wanting Sorrell or the northerners to see his crying like a newborn babe. He had a lot of sorrow within him for a reason. His uncles were dead, Maester Cressen was poisoned by the red demon woman and he was left without his mother and sister. Only to have his unforgiving father.

The prince and his sworn shield looked at the ironwood tree sigil of House Forrester flapping in the winds, the brown bucket sigil of House Wull and various of the mountain clans, and the black battle-axe of House Cerwyn. Jacob's eye was on his father's own terrible sigil; the bad omen from the demon god. He never liked the sigil, With Uncle Renly being dead, it would have been better to take their true black and gold stag sigil, to signify them being the last Baratheons in the Seven Kingdoms.

Prince Jacob gave Sorrell a look, a look for him to stand outside the tent with his sword ready. He wanted to speak with his lord father alone. The dread of him being talked down to, like a child was heavily present in the prince's mind. The meeting with the chief clansmen saw some unresolved problems between father and son. The prince wanted to make it known to the clansmen of the north, that he was no soft boy from the south, but a man with steel through his blood.

The young man entered the tent, only to see a few men leaving it. He took a deep breath; his eyes were on his father. His father's face looked fuller and was less gaunt than he was at Castle Black. The prince was thankful having a decent meal in the halls of the Wulls and at Eastwatch made him well.

"You wanted to speak with me, father." Prince Jacob said, in a hardened tone. His father was looking at maps of the Wolfswood and Deepwood Motte.

"Your behaviour at the keep of the Wulls. You almost cost us a long-term alliance with the mountain clans. Lords Wull and Flint, on the other hand praised me for raising such a headstrong boy. For the sake of this alliance, you are forgiven for your transgression." King Stannis replied.

"The chief clansmen agreed with me. I was only defending my honour, since these men want to refer to me as a boy. They would have thought of me as a soft southern boy with no will or strength, but I will not be talked down to by old men."

"I blame myself, Jacob. For not stopping your uncle from fostering you to the Tyrells. You were only a child, to be taken from home and living with another family. I lost many years with Robert because of his own fostering in the Vale; when he would come home, it was only brief before he had forgotten about Renly and myself, his own brothers to go back to the Vale to his new brother."

"Are you disappointed? Of not having captured Ludd and his ingrate sons?" Jacob asked.

"Luckily, we have the girl. His only daughter. After we have captured Winterfell, her fate will be decided. She can live and be married off to one of our northern allies or be put to the sword, along with her father and the rest of her witless family." Stannis retorted.

"I am leading a part of our host, to breach the outer walls of the castle. The Ironborn are arrogant to think these high walls keep them safe, but their hostages inside the keep could betray them for an opportunity to be free from their reeving and raping captors."

"This battle will test you, to see if you are capable of fighting the Ironborn as well you did the wildlings and the Whitehill men. You have proved to me, you are able to lead a host and to command the respect of a true leader."

"I'm glad you are well, father. I was concerned for your wellbeing, when I returned. The war has taken much from you as I has from me. Your health matters to me because, you need to be strong enough to stand beside me when we take North from the Boltons, the Riverlands from the Freys and the throne from the Lannisters and the Tyrells. As I said before, we are in this war together, and we will succeed together. Side by side. Father and son."

The prince stared at his father hard. Jacob could not believe he came from such a hard man like Stannis Baratheon, and that this man was his father. The young man was always reminded of the dangers of the battlefield, but he was a man and was ready for it. Prince Jacob peered closer at his father's map to show the detailed positions of all the points surrounding Deepwood Motte, and where the Ironborn will be at their most vulnerable when the battle commenced. The surrounding Wolfswood will have the northmen ready to kill any reaver caught trying to escape to their ships.

They were the last trueborn Baratheons, alongside Shireen. Jacob was the heir of a dying house, and knew how valuable he was to be securing the future of House Baratheon; for his sister to grow up in a better world without cruel nobles and ass-licking schemers around and for his uncle Robert to be avenged from the dishonour of being made a motley for the Lannisters and his inept councillors.

"I never thought about Uncle Renly. He was my uncle, but he was a traitor. The man could have laid down his claim and supported his kin, but he chose his fate by claiming the crown for himself. I know the Tyrells better than Uncle Renly claimed to have. They only chose him because he was easy to manipulate and bend. If he sat on the Iron Throne, with his lover as Lord Commander, a Small Council filled with Reachmen and the Fat Flower as his Hand of the King."

The prince didn't want to worry himself with these thoughts. Of the uncle, he had a troubled relationship with. It was never easy, being around the uncle that stole his birthright and Uncle Robert allowed it to happen this way. The only time Uncle Renly spoke kindly towards Jacob was when Renly tried to tempt him into soiling his honour and betraying his father three years ago.

"Are you prepared for battle?" King Stannis questioned; he wasn't man for sentiment, but for Jacob it was an exception because he was his son.

"I'm ready to do what it takes to return the stronghold back to the Glovers. They would be thankful for us ridding Deepwood Motte and the Wolfswood of Ironborn reavers." Prince Jacob replied.

"You will meet Lord Arnolf soon, along with his sons to discuss the marriage arrangements. There is no better bride for you than Lord Rickard's daughter. I want you to put all thoughts on the Manderly issue behind you."

The prince groaned under his breath. He did not like being talked down to, as if he was a child. He knew at the back of his mind, this Arnolf Karstark was not to be trusted. Why would this man openly declare for his father? Knowing the last remaining son of Rickard Karstark was still a prisoner of the Lannisters and he could have been killed for that declaration. If the lawful heir of Karhold was dead, then Alys was the rightful heir being Lord Rickard's daughter, putting her above Arnolf and his ingrate sons in terms of the lawful succession. His father Stannis did not want to listen, knowing how Arnolf pledging himself to his cause mattered more to him than the dangerous plot surrounding him.

"Lord Wyman decided to bluff my fealty with flowery words of being scared and a coward. I may allow the man to pledge his loyalty to me, but I must meet the Karstark girl for myself, to see if she will be a good queen for you." King Stannis grumbled.

"At least, you are speaking some form of sense. You may not know Lord Arnolf, but I know men like him. I was surrounded by them, since I was a child and learned from them. He must want something in return for his fealty and marrying Alys off to me." Prince Jacob said.

"He wants something all men want. A chance to climb higher in the game of thrones, Jacob. You are a player of the game, you should know. The Lannisters' days are numbered. If Lord Arnolf becomes the uncle of a future legitimate queen, then the Karstarks will advance, like the Florents when I married your mother."

The talk of marriage was uncomfortable for Jacob. Especially with a father like Stannis, a man not for having these kinds of talks. The prince lowered his head, not wanting to hear any longer about the suspicious Karstark lord. All Jacob wanted to focus on was the battle for Deepwood Motte, the seat of House Glover, which was been stolen by the Ironborn. These were warriors, his father Stannis, Uncle Robert and Ned Stark fought on the Iron Islands, during the Greyjoy Rebellion. His father had told him stories of that war and how it established his reputation as a great battle commander by defeating Victarion Greyjoy, the Captain of the Iron Fleet and a reaver who was a challenge for him.

As a young child, Jacob looked up to his father as a hero, when he heard of his accomplishments, during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Defeating a Greyjoy, let alone the captain of the Ironborn's most prized fleet was an impressive feat. The prince hoped to succeed, and crush the reavers like his father and Uncle Robert did years ago.

This time will be Balon Greyjoy's daughter he might be fighting in the Wolfswood with a steel sword in his hands. The prince heard of how the salt smelling craven's daughter is the captain of her own ship, and has killed men on Ironborn reeving missions. He was gladdened in his heart; to finally have someone worth fighting and killing on the battlefield.

Prince Jacob stood beside his father Stannis to look through last minute details of the map, on the crafted table. He took a deep breath, not one to be nervous before a battle, not after fighting three battles during this war. This battle was going to make him, to spread the terror of the lord of the storm and fury tearing through the Ironborn with his sword and standing on their blooded corpses.

"Are you sure, this is the way, my prince?" Sorrell asked, being uncertain with the surroundings being unfamiliar to him.

The prince and his shield were stationed in the Wolfswood, in the dark and a host of one thousand and two hundred men behind them. Prince Jacob was not afraid of the dark forest, for he was a stag and the forest is the home of the sigil to his house. He wanted to take his part of the force here, whilst his father was leading the recruited northmen at the gates of Deepwood Motte, but at the back of his mind, he knew the Ironborn would not surrender peacefully, for they were proud people.

Prince Jacob was sharpening his sword on a whetstone; his darkened sapphire blue eyes were looking upon the sword. A weapon that has killed wildlings, Lannister men at arms and Whitehill soldiers. It was a fine weapon, from the cutthroats of House Tyrell and it still looked as good as new.

The young man was shivering under his furs, but they were not as heavy for he had to be able to fight on the field. He was in his antlered armour, the one forged for him by Uncle Robert. It was in the colour or furnished gold, and it's crafted antlers on the stag made it look fearsome on his chest.

His antlered helm was upon his head, with locks of his black hair resting on his shoulders. Jacob did not think himself a fine man, only focused on his ugly flaws. It was the source of his envy for Uncle Renly, the pretty boy knights of the south and Robb Stark. To everyone else, he was a spiteful and vindictive boy.

"It is the way, Sorrell. With father wasting his time at the gates; I led my part of the host here. The Ironborn are prideful and will never surrender so easily. The castle will be overwhelmed with my father and the northmen, but the Ironborn cunts will try and escape to their ships. If I find them, then they will be put the torch and crew members to be slain." Prince Jacob suggested, with a smirk appearing between his dry lips.

"You smile, my prince. You look forward to fighting the craven pirate's daughter." The knight said.

"I have spent much of this war fighting greenish Lannister boys, savage wildlings and incompetent Whitehills. I am a warrior trained by Randyll Tarly. I am the nephew of the man, who killed Rhaegar Targaryen and the son of the man, who defeated the Captain of the Iron Fleet. I finally have an enemy worth fighting and worth killing on the field."

"I warned you on the way to Wulls keep. And I will warn you again, your overconfidence and brashness will have you in the grave earlier than you would have liked."

The prince did not care for what Sorrell said. He was only his sworn shield, a man from the Shield Islands and not Ser Davos. No matter how hard he tries to be what Davos has been for him. It made him miss the Onion Knight even more and wished his father had not sent him away so far form him.

Prince Jacob saw the shining glint from his sword Limos; he had been given the sword for his fifteenth nameday and kept it as his primary weapon. The prince also carried his bow and arrow; holding the weapon in his hand made his mind think of the traitor great uncle who gave it to him.

"Lord Alester was a traitor. He had sold father out for a chance to regain his lands again. This man was my great uncle, but he would have sold Shireen and I for power and Brightwater Keep. Being burned alive was the punishment for such a man; a man who betrayed his king and his house."

The young man was warmed by the lit fire. Prince Jacob did not like the fire much; it had its purpose for keeping the hearth and the home warm. He saw the flames, as a symbol of everything that has gone wrong with his life and how the people in his life are falling under the spell of a demon witch.

Prince Jacob's eyes were caught on the horizon; it may have been the night, but a blaze of orange and red flame peered in the distance. A fire was lit in the distance, and Jacob saw something burning from a far. He did not know what it was, but something was put to the torch to stop the Ironborn.

The prince's guilt, of almost allowing the Red Woman to seduce him gave him bad dreams. She had found his most vulnerable spot he was lucky to not have let her do anymore with him. underneath the grim face and the sharp blade was a man, whose heart is in great ruin. He cannot be attached to the sworn shield defending him, he cannot trust his northern allies and he cannot trust himself.

"Your Grace, we must move. Our scouts have reported some Ironborn men sneaking into the woods, and attempting to run to their ships." Sorrell foretold.

"Do you know what was on fire?" Prince Jacob asked.

"I have no idea, my prince. It does not matter now, the remaining Ironborn forces are going to come here and we must kill them all."

The prince understood why Sorrell wanted blood; he heard things, among his southerners of the Mad Crow Eye returning to the Iron Islands and is now in possession of the Iron Fleet, and is terrorising the Reach. The Shield Islands were the first victims of this madman on his ravaging campaign through the most fertile lands of the Seven Kingdoms. His faithful knight never spoke about home, but his relatives were being terrorised by this faithless reaver. The prince needed Sorrell Grimm with him on the field, to protect him if anything went wrong and he was in trouble.

"Men of the King, we shall cross further into the Wolfswood. The Ironborn lack honour and the numbers able to defeat us. We shall be feasting on their corpses tonight, after I give you this victory, like the victory at Ironrath and beneath the Wall. As your future king, I will fight beside my men and push the Ironborn out of the North." The prince exclaimed, raising his shining sword above him.

The men cheered for their prince, and Prince Jacob's face was glowing with a smile. For the first time, he senses himself to be the stronger man he always wanted to be. The prince stood tall and proud on a rock, with his sword in front of him. Jacob knew the great battle was ahead, and he was to lead the men to the victory he promised them.

The prince, his knight and his host began trekking through the Wolfswood. The darkened trees sent shivers down Jacob's spine. It was a foreign realm to him, being a worshipper of the Faith; he gestured for his men to trek in silence and they began walking past the trees and the howls and growls in the distance began to spook the men, but most of the men in Jacob's host were southorns.

The pounding of feet in the snows was what the prince heard. He motioned Sorrell and his men to come forth, even though the southorns are in unfamiliar territory. Prince Jacob missed his horse Misty; she was a good horse and was always there for him. He made the choice to leave her, he did not want his horse to be caught up in the violence. Jacob heard of stories of how Ironborn never lacked the taste for horse flesh and did not want his faithful companion becoming a reaver's meal.

Sorrell held a flamed torch, wanting to provide a guide for his prince. Prince Jacob never thought much of his sworn shield. The man did his duty and did it well. There was no need for him to become more than his ally and protector on the field. His father Stannis told him attachments were weakness, and he believed it to be true. No one wanted to be a true friend, because it would call for his guard to be let down and he let his walls down for Desmera Redwyne and it got him nowhere.

"My prince, shall I hand the torch to another man. I am to protect you from the Ironborn." Sorrell exclaimed.

"You shall, my faithful knight." Prince Jacob replied, and Sorrell passed the torch onto another man.

The prince saw footprints on the ground. It must be Iron Islander tracks. Most of them were foolish enough to leave their tracks open. Prince Jacob learned from the Lord of Horn Hill about how to track down prey for a hunt. His fostering in the Reach gave him more sufficient skills, than if he had been fostered at court with his uncle. Jacob became a man by learning swordplay, hunting and listening through the walls of Highgarden, whenever Mace Tyrell had his bannermen around him.

His eyes caught on passing silhouette in the dark, and knew it was one of the escaping Ironborn. He whistled, alerting Sorrell and his men to come forward, with them being closer to their enemies by a mile away. The prince took a deep breath, he could feel the blood rushing through his body. The same feeling fighting beneath the Wall brought him. His battle skill was improving, but his mind was the greater strength; of knowing people and finding their weaknesses and flaws to use against them.

A man wearing armour of the kraken engraved on it foolishly ran towards Jacob, but the prince unsheathed his sword to cut the man at the side of his head. The prince gestured his men to attack, with a horde of Ironborn coming towards his men with battle-axes in their hands. The two hordes of men clashed against each other with the prince and Sorrell following the men onto the two forces.

The trotting of some on horseback and the clanging of metal was an all familiar sound to Prince Jacob. It was the sound of battle and war, something he could process as he has been in three battles and has secured a victory in the recent fight at Ironrath and Highpoint. The prince ran into the pit of where his men and the Ironmen were fighting, and had his steel sword Limos in his hand.

Prince Jacob clashed his sword against an axe wielding Ironman, whom was taller than he was. His blade blocked the attack by the man's axe, and stood sideways for the ironman's weapon to miss.

The Stag of Dragonstone's helm was still on his head, with his eye focused on the enemy. The prince saw an opening at the tall man's armour, with it not being properly fitted and it not being made of the finest material for protection. The Ironborn were a proud lot and didn't care for who they call greenlanders, an affectionate name given to people like Jacob and others in the Seven Kingdoms.

Prince Jacob's blade pierced the man's breast with a swift blockade of his axe attack. The scent of blood was present on the field, with the Ironmen dying around him and the reavers being outnumbered by the men of Jacob and his father Stannis with the northmen at Deepwood Motte.

The prince could see some of the northmen in the fray of the battle. Some were the men of House Forrester and House Liddle, with the prince recognising their sigils on the breastplates of the men battling the Ironborn reavers.

"Sorrell." The prince yelled, in the mist of the men in his host sounding the battle cry, joining forces with the northmen. The rush of adrenaline went through him and the trickling of blood touching his tongue from the heat of the battle.

The young man's armour was the same he wore, when he defeated the wildlings. Jacob caught his eye on another brutish Ironman running towards him, but the prince swiftly swung his sword, only for the man's axe to be bigger than his head in size. The brute force of the weapon was thundered against the prince, knocking him down onto the ground with his antlered helm falling from his head.

Prince Jacob's eyes looked up at the brute warrior, who knocked him down. The man stood above him with a gleeful smile on his face. His teeth looked to have rotted from being an Ironborn pirate.

"Any last words, stag whelp." The brutish man huffed, in a laugh. Holding his axe above the prince.

This was not how Jacob wanted to die on the battlefield, at the hands of some Ironborn, who was not Balon Greyjoy's daughter or someone worthy enough to kill him. The force of the big axe against his armour radiated an aching pain through his body. His eyes widened, wanting to look in the face of the man about to send him into the next life. The prince began to close his eyes, not wanting to see the blood and grief on the faces of his men, especially his close ally Sorrell Grimm when he died.

Jacob saw the sharp end of a sword piercing the mid-section of the brute, who wanting to kill him. his eyes were widened and he dropped his axe. The brutish man himself eventually fell dead onto the ground. The prince wrapped his arm around his chest and crawled away backwards having the use of his feet to help him move away from whomever killed this man.

The man falling revealed a familiar face. The man was dark of eyes and orange-reddish of hair with slender of build with his sword in his hand. His coat of arms and his armour bared the green sea turtle of House Estermont, the house of his late grandmother Lady Cassana. The man was good looking, but not on the level of handsomeness as his late Uncle Renly and Robb Stark. He gave the prince his hand and Jacob accepted his hand, and pulled himself on his feet to see the man in face.

"Cousin Luthor, I thought you were at Deepwood Motte with my father." Jacob exclaimed, not expecting to see his cousin from the Stormlands here in the Wolfswood.

"You needed assistance, Jake. You could have died; the man's axe is bigger than a cart." Said Luthor.

"We must go."

"I saw the Greyjoy girl, not far from here. If you are thinking of fighting her, you are a bigger fool than I thought. If you do, I will come with you, as your kin."

Jacob and Luthor ran across the field of the Wolfswood, with Ironmen and northmen raging around them, with swords and axes fighting another. The two men had their swords, and cut down every Ironman in their path. The prince had not seen his cousin, since Luthor was knighted by his uncle.

His cousin Luthor was one of the King's Men of his father's army, a man devoted to his Faith in the Seven. The prince seeing him was bittersweet; because the man's brother Ser Andrew had sailed away across the Narrow Sea, being the guardian and shield of Uncle Robert's bastard Edric Storm.

The men were in the thick of the battle, with Ironmen falling and northmen crying in cheers of victory for every kraken solider that fell. Prince Jacob and Luthor were cutting down the men, who dared to attack them from behind. The prince's sword Limos, shone brightly in the darkness of the northern Wolfswood. His sword clashed against an Ironman with a broadsword. Jacob's sword maneuvered the man's sword, in order for the prince to strike a deadly blow against the man.

His eyes were feasted upon the crows flying around the fighting. Black creatures, whom would feast on the dead. Prince Jacob's eyes were fixed on the dead Ironmen littering around, with the northman fighting ferociously with their swords and axes, most of them were mountain clansmen.

At the corner of his eye, the prince of the Iron Throne saw a woman on the field, clad in chainmail. She was lean and long-legged, whilst she had her shield and an axe in her hand. Her hair was black and cut short, for she could have been mistaken for a man. She adorned the golden kraken sigil on her, signifying her to be Ironborn and an important one, with some Ironmen flanking towards her.

Prince Jacob held onto his sword, not keeping his eye of the woman, not for a second. He charged straight towards her, with Luthor following behind him. The young man had no time look for Sorrell, not when he is close to slaying a worthy opponent. He still had his eye on the woman, and he was not going to lose focus. The prince wanted to finish what Uncle Robert could not do, do what his father Stannis wanted to do at the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion; it was to eliminate the Greyjoy line.

The prince's sword battered against the Greyjoy woman's axe, with her blocking his attack. Jacob was not fooled into lose focus, when fighting her. Not when her family were full of cutthroats and killers. The taste of blood tricking from his nose and touching his tongue gave him a surge of adrenaline through his body. He liked the taste of his own blood, and his sword cutting men down.

Prince Jacob held onto Limos, whilst face to face with the Greyjoy woman; he never cared to know her name, why would he if he was to kill her? He maneuvered himself to the left side, with the woman striking her axe against him. The prince's eyes were still and eagle-eyed focused on her.

The young man did not have his antlered helm, with it falling on the field. The tresses of his black hair were lifted by the cold winds of the Wolfswood. The scent of blood and death was in the air, with various men dying around them. Jacob raised his sword to deliver an attack against the axe.

The Greyjoy woman held her shield, whilst the prince's sword slashes against the woman's cheek, which sparked the anger in her darker eyes. Jacob saw the blood trickling down her face; a glint of a smile was appearing on his lips, his blooded red lips. Her axe swung over him, with him ducking and kicking off the woman's shield and clanging his sword against her axe. The prince's armour was light for him to manoeuvre his sword around and be able to miss the woman's axe by the inch of his face.

Prince Jacob heard a battle cry sounded by the northmen from the mountains. It echoed through the woods in the mist of the stench of rotting corpses in the air. Had Jacob been a boy of four and ten, in his first battle, then would he have been sick? From the stench and the clanging of metal in his ears.

His knee was bent into the ground, breathing through the cold air of the north. Jacob glared into the eyes of his opponent, with blood rushing through every entry of his body. Her axe was raised to strike against him, but the attack was blocked by the shielding on his sword against it. The prince clenched his teeth, gritting the aches and pains of his body in this armour and fighting this battle.

"Ready to die, greenlander." The woman said, in a haughty smirk. It was obvious Jacob did not intend to die in the north, surrounded by strange creatures to feast on his dead flesh at winter.

The prince swivelled his sword, and his stance to knock off the shield from the Greyjoy woman's left hand, and now he had the advantage over his opponent. His sword battering against the woman's axe with blow and after blow. His hand clenched onto his sword tightly in his grasp. The prince was gaining on the woman with clang after clang with his sword against her axe. He picked up a lone shield from the ground, and held it against himself. Jacob's eyes saw the Ironborn axe come for him.

The young warrior battered the shield against the axe, causing it to fall from the woman's hand. He had his sword up close to him. Jacob saw the woman on the ground, hoping to have a good death, but her leg to be twisted from her fall.

"Ready to meet your sea god, reaver." Jacob grunted, raising his sword for the blow to finish her off. And then he heard the call of a trumpet. It was not any old trumpet, but it was the horn of his father King Stannis signalling the battle of Deepwood Motte and the Wolfswood to be over.