The Charge

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

It was clear to see to them all that everything they had believed about the direction of this war had while not being completely wrong, was not the complete truth. Now that things were laid out clearly before them, as plain for the eyes to see, there was no ignoring it anymore.

Robb and Daenerys were allied.

The so-called, Field of Fire in which thirty thousand men and Robb's believed death, had all been fabricated.

They had fallen for their bait hook, line and sinker.

Aegon for a moment just smiled humourlessly as he stared out at the Stark forces directly across from him. All of his plans, all of his ideas on how to shift the tide of the war were useless now. They had all been based on the assumption that the thirty thousand men had been destroyed. Based on the assumption that Daenerys and Robb Stark were at war.

Now though, that was no longer the case.

Now here he was, trapped between them all.

"We should cut north, your grace." Jon urged, looking worriedly at their backs. The army under the command of Randyll Tarly was not in view yet, but in a few short hours, it would be. When that happened, they would not be able to do anything. "If we can get to the ships, we can set sail for Dragonstone and prepare for a siege there."

"And we would be beset by Dragons all the way across our journey." Aegon returned. "More than half our forces would be destroyed before we even got to Dragonstone. No, today we either grasp victory or we die trying."

There was still a chance, a slim glimpse of victory and Aegon could see it. But if they remained here, exposed, it would never erupt into a brilliant guiding light. He needed to act now, there was no time to move his army into a formation, no time to come up with a brilliant strategy and share it amongst his commanders.

No, he needed to act now.

Drawing his blade from its sheat, Aeron raised it into the sky. "Sound the horn, we charge!" So long as they remained here in the centre, they were exposed and all Daenerys had to do was give the order for her Dragons to give flight and they would be engulfed in flames.

He could see it, that glimpse of light and while small, he would use that to guide his actions. There was a feeling in the back of his mind, an instinct that guided his actions as he urged his horse on, one of his aids sounding the horn, his army taking action as they rushed across the field.

Even behind him, while hesitant, his commanders and aids all looked to one another, questioning the sense in this action. But nonetheless, spurred on by loyalty to either him or by gold, they drew their blades and followed after him.

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Smiling joyfully, Smalljon let his longsword rest against the groove of his shoulder, towering above his men as he looked upon the Targaryen forces charging towards them. It was just as the King expected, Aegon would not go north but instead, headed directly for them.

"Ah right lads, let's show these fuckers a bit of Westerosi warfare!" Smalljon roared, voice booming outwards, shocking a few of the nearby soldiers. But nonetheless, down the line, the men let out a shout of concurrence. Each shifting into position, preparing to receive the Targaryen charge.

Gripping his blade, Smalljon moved forwards, pushing aside a few men till he stood directly in the front lines. There was a reason they called him the Mad Giant of House Umber, there was a reason Robb Stark trusted him more than any other.

He had no interest in politics, in the throne or anything like that.

All Smalljon cared for was battle.

For the sound of his sword whistling in the air, the sound of men crying out as he cut through their flesh and bones. He loved the feeling of blood thick upon him, of flesh parting around his blade. Smalljon loved blood and battle, it was what fuelled him, what he desired above all else.

"Come on then, ya fuckers!" He didn't even care if they could hear his battle cry or not, Smalljon shouted it all the same, arms outstretched, the tip of his blade resting against the floor.

Except, as they drew in closer, arrows from the backlines of the Stark army arching through the air, the Targaryen forces turned. Not all of them, some were completely unaware of this change in direction, carrying on towards them. Arrows pelting down into the exposed side of the army and killing men by the hundreds. Those that hadn't realised what was happening, coming to a halt, looking around wildly and just as they realised what was happening, the second wave of arrows took them out.

All the while Smalljon looked on, the big smile upon his face slowly giving way to a furious scowl.

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Ser Barristan frowned heavily, watching as the Targaryen forces rapidly turned their direction and came charging directly towards them. It was not something he had expected, in fact, he had expected Aegon to still want to keep Daenerys as a future, prospective ally.

It's why he had been prepared for Aegon to either cut north or clash head-on with Robb Stark. Things had appeared to be heading towards the latter, but just as he entered within archer range, Aegon called for a rapid shift, turning his attention towards them. It was a rushed job, hundreds of men still heading towards the Stark forces but coming to a halt upon realising that they were alone.

They were picked off by arrows soon after.

But the vast majority of the force led by Aegon was coming directly towards them. The heavy cavalry of the Golden Company flanking the sides of the elephants, the light cavalry of the Dornish forming up behind them. It was a dangerous sight, the infantry behind even them.

"Prepare the lines!" Ser Barristan called out, the Unsullied, a well-trained force as they were already moving without the need for the orders. "Archers, focus fire upon the elephants! Take them down!"

The rapid succession of orders was given, arrows already being released.

Behind him, the screech of Dragons could be heard, Ser Barristan looking over his shoulder to see Daenerys, upon the back of Drogon took to the sky. Rhaegal and Viserion took up flanks beside Drogon as the three flew towards the Targaryen forces led by Aegon Targaryen.

As the wind whistled by her ears, drowning out any sound that might have reached her up here, Daenerys looked down. They were low, but everything beneath her was clear to see and Daenerys for a moment took it all in.

Aegon's army charged towards her own forces, lacking all semblance of formation. Her own army, well-organised under the leadership of Ser Barristan, preparing for the inevitable clash. Then her gaze trailed towards Robb Stark, she couldn't make it out from here, but she knew he would be upon the top of the raised hill, where the flags were positioned.

The perfect place for him to see the battlefield and issue orders from.

His forces remained where they were, watching to see what Aegon would do.

She wondered briefly for a moment if he would do nothing if he would allow both her and Aegon to destroy each other. But she dismissed that thought out of mind, Robb was not the type of man to do that, or at least she didn't think he was.

He wanted their alliance to hold, just as much as she did.

If he failed to come to her aid, then she could turn upon him.

Even if she lost her army here, she could escape upon her Dragons, rebuild her army and return in the future. That was something Robb would already know and would want to avoid.

As her three Dragons came down lower, Daenerys rose up, staring down imperiously upon the army below her. She remembered what Ser Barristan told her, about how it was the innocents that were killed, men who simply fought not out of greed but out of duty. Daenerys remembered it clearly, but even so, she knew she had a duty to fulfil.

"Dracarys." She muttered, the rumbling coming from her child's chest reverberating throughout her body as heat bubbled beneath her.