Chapter 28: Kingslayer

Ser Jorah had almost immediately left both Daenerys and Jon to go and find something to help them move Viserys' body, and Daenerys refused to let go of Jon's hand. The Northerner was extremely confused about what was going on. "Khaleesi… your brother…"

Daenerys looked over at Viserys coldly. "He was a fool to think that wielding a sword in Vaes Dothrak would go well for him." Was all she said. At Jon's perplexing look, Daenerys chuckled. "Don't be so shocked, Jon. I made my peace with Viserys' death long ago."

"Long ago?" Jon took his hand back from her and stepped away. "I'm lost."

Daenerys looked as though she had realised something. "Oh of course… you don't remember." She said quietly.

"Remember what?" Jon asked, getting angry. "Your brother just died by Ghost and you're acting strange. What's going on?"

Daenerys smiled and stepped towards Jon, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear. "I'm not the Daenerys you know, Jon. Where I'm from, I met you on Dragonstone after I took the island myself. Torrhen believed that you were the key to turning my attention northwards instead of to King's Landing. He was right."

"You know Torrhen?" Jon asked.

"And I know you." She said softly, placing a hand over his heart. "I truly know you, Aegon."

That caused him to freeze. "How do you know that name." He whispered, horrified.

Daenerys laughed. "I was told it by Torrhen many years ago. He also gave me Dark Sister… I don't suppose you have it?"

Jon shook his head. "My Father didn't trust you or Viserys to not take the sword and kill me, he wanted it safe… how do you know all of this?"

"The Three Eyed Raven, who was once the brother of my ancestor, Brynden Rivers, explained it like this as I died." Daenerys began. "I come from one time, and my mind has been brought to another. Most things are the same, but some differ. Like you being in Vaes Dothrak instead of Castle Black, Westeros being at war under King Robert rather than after he died. Little changes that have spread to impact the world for the better."

"So that the White Walker's don't win." Jon surmised.

Daenerys grinned widely. "You're understanding."

"Not really." Jon insisted, turning his back on her. "Is it just you? How is a Khaleesi of the Dothraki meant to impact Westeros?"

"It's not just me." Daenerys admitted. "I don't know everybody that remembers, but I do know that Torrhen does."

"Tor?" Jon swivelled back to face her. "Explain."

Dany sighed sadly. "We were good friends, know that. When he died in my time it hurt us both, but it seems that his consciousness was forced into his younger body a few years ago in this timeline."

Jon remembered the day, the day that he had been hit in the head by Robb in the training yard and had been saying all kinds of nonsense. "He had a concussion…"

"He had his 20-year-old mind in his 11-year-old body." Daenerys corrected. "As I have my 68-year-old mind in my 16-year-old body."

"68?" Jon asked with a smile.

Dany nodded. "I died of old age thankfully. Almost 30 years after my husband died to protect me."

Jon's smile faded as he imagined Drogo taking over Westeros with Dany at his side. "He must have loved you very much."

"You did." Daenerys told him softly, to Jon's surprise.

"Me? But I…"

Dany made him quiet by placing a finger on his lips. "I'll explain everything when I can. I promise. For now though, we must burn Viserys' body and do our part for the war to come."

"How do we do our part?" Jon asked.

"Firstly." Daenerys said as she turned around, her eyes scanning the room until she found the small chest with the three dragon eggs laying inside it. "We make sure that my children hatch, by any means necessary."

"Keep your shield up!" Came the stern voice of the Red Keep's Master at Arms, Ser Aron Santagar. "If you keep dropping it, some common farmer shall have your head off quicker than you can say 'ouch.' Bran grimaced, the wooden object was heavy and he struggled lifting it all the way up. He looked over at Summer who was lying down to the side of the training area looking around attentively. More determined, Bran forced his arm up as he was ready for another go. He faced the Dornishman once more, almost growling as his arm fought against the strain. "Good, again!" Aron commanded. Bran struck out with his blunted tourney blade, catching Ser Aron's shield. He struck out again at a different spot but hit the shield again. "Harder!" Aron exclaimed, so Bran gave him a heavy whack, still only hitting the shield. He then saw Aron swing his blade and made sure he got his shield up to protect his head. The blunted steel bounced off of the shield, and Bran smiled. "Good! But you are too slow in the next stage. I could hit your legs quickly now." The Dornishman said as he rapped the blade around Bran's shin lightly.

It was still enough to send the young Stark tumbling however, as he hit the ground with a thud. Annoyed, he threw his sword down forcefully and unstrapped his shield. "You wanted the shield up." He grumbled childishly.

Aron smirked at him. "I did, but that was for the first blow when you knew I was going high. In battle you won't know where I'm going, so you need to learn to watch movements, not listen to words. You did well."

"How did I do well?" Bran asked, annoyed. "I'm on the ground."

Aron chuckled. "Brandon, you are but 10 years of age. If you expected to beat me in a duel then I would have you ousted as a madman. Patience, you will learn in time. You are making good progress."

"When my brother was 10 he was a brilliant archer." Bran told the Dornishman.

Aron waved his hand dismissively. "Archery, you stand and move your arms a bit. A true swordsman has ten times the skill of a true archer. The way your mind links with your hand to predict and attack, your feet moving in unison with your arms to get yourself a better position. It is a dance, young Stark. A dance which you are getting better at every single day." That did make Bran feel a little better, he had to admit. It wasn't easy being a younger brother and thankfully he was here in King's Landing learning all of this away from Torrhen, Robb and Jon as they would just make fun of him. Aron helped him to his feet. "Now go and pick up your sword and clean it before you go to meet with Lord Stannis, and don't throw it away again." He said warningly.

Bran nodded, picking up the blade and wiping it clean of mud on his trouser leg before he ran back to the armoury to drop off the blade. "Come on Summer!" He called out then, and the boy and his direwolf raced back into the Red Keep to get changed before his lessons with Stannis Baratheon himself.

He was surprised to see clothes already laid out for him on his bed, a fine leather doublet and a thin fur cloak among them. Shrugging, he put them on anyway, enjoying the feel of the cloak that he hadn't really needed to wear since he had arrived in King's Landing the first time. As he went to leave the room to go to his lessons, he saw a knight with pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes that he recognised as Ser Justin Massey, one of Stannis' men.

"Ser Justin." Bran greeted, feeling Summer brush past him as he spoke.

Justin looked cautiously at the direwolf, his hand just brushing his sword hilt. "Lord Stannis has asked that you join him in the courtyard."

"Am I not having my lessons today?" Bran asked.

"Not today." Justin explained as he turned and led Bran. "We received word from Stokeworth that the Queen should arrive today."

That put a big grin on Bran's face. He hadn't ever seen Queen Cersei other than from afar at the tourney feast and Torrhen had told him that she was cruel, but Robert's new Queen was a mystery to him, and the 10-year-old Northerner was excited.

The courtyard was rammed. Nobles that had followed both Yohn Royce and Stannis Baratheon stood closest to where the new Queen would leave her carriage, while the lesser courtiers and other members of the Red Keep's household were dotted around wherever they were allowed, all nervous and excited to see the Frey Queen.

Bran was placed in the front row as the sole representative of House Stark, beside Yohn Royce the Lord Protector of the Vale, as the carriage entered the Red Keep and came to a halt in front of Stannis. Bran watched as one of the new Queen's bastard kin, evident from the inverse of the Frey colours on his surcoat, helped the Queen down.

"Black Walder Rivers." Somebody whispered from behind Bran. "The old cunt sends his bastard to attend a Queen."

"Quiet." Yohn snapped with a whisper. "Or you'll lose your tongue."

Bran gulped, reminding himself to stay quiet as the new Queen began her descent from the carriage. Another old conversation with Torrhen popped into his head then, from a year or so ago as Torrhen and Arya were telling scary stories to him in the Godswood. Torrhen had spoken on how evil and ugly the Frey's of the Crossing were, but Bran couldn't see any of that in the new Queen. She was beautiful.

'Fair' Walda Frey walked over to Stannis who bowed his head immediately, closely followed by everyone else in attendance. "My Queen." He said.

"Lord Stannis." Fair Walda smiled.

"The Queen's Chambers have been cleaned out and prepared for you to move into immediately." Stannis explained. "You must be tired from the journey."

Walda smiled. "I am, thank you My Lord."

"If you'll follow me, we can discuss the state of the city as we walk." Stannis offered, gesturing to the left, where Bran was. The young Stark's breath hitched as he realised she would walk past him, and he stood up straighter, puffing out his chest subtly, a movement mimicked by Summer beside him. Stannis walked by first, but Walda noticed him and gave him a bright smile, her brown eyes bright in the sunlight. Her retinue followed her, all members of House Frey, Bran surmised.

He sighed happily once the rest of them could move and go about their days. As he was wondering what he was going to do he overheard Yohn Royce talking quietly to one of the other Vale Lords, Lord Redfort. "A dress that tight in her condition. Shameful, what if it's harmed."

"Lord Stannis wasn't amused." Lord Redfort whispered. "But it's clear to see why she did it."

Yohn nodded. "Yes. Our new Queen must want the world to know she is with child so soon after marriage."

Sarsfield was the last of the Westerland castles to fall under the mountain range that guarded the Westerlands from the east, and once the Northern/Riverland alliance had left the castle of the western archers the terrain grew flatter and more comfortable to ride on, and the distance that the army marched per day grew the closer to Lannisport they got.

The march was a relatively slow one however, as King Robert wanted to both put fear into the people of the west as well as try the Kingslayer's patience. The slow speed also gave the King the chance to have longer to try and get himself fitter. Torrhen had already noticed a bit of a difference, although the Baratheon ruler was still rather round.

They were about 4 days away from Lannisport when camp life grew a little more interesting than just sleeping, eating, training and siege planning. Torrhen had just peppered a target with arrows and was in the process of collecting them to take back to his tent when a familiar set of white robes caught his eye. He waited in place for a moment, staring at this woman with dark hair until she turned around, and Torrhen audibly gasped.

Luckily he was out of earshot, but the sight of Talisa Maegyr made him run away to his Father's tent, the Lord of Winterfell writing out a letter when he was announced and allowed entrance.

"Robb is in White Harbour." Ned explained. "He's heading towards the Moat to ensure the defences are strong as we speak."

"Never mind that." Torrhen said hurriedly. "We have a problem."

Ned's eyes shot up to meet Torrhen's. "The Lannisters?"

"What?" Torrhen asked, confused, before he remembered what they were doing there. "Oh, no. Talisa is here in camp."

"Talisa?" Ned asked.

"Robb's wife from before…" Torrhen said quietly, so it was definitely only Ned that heard.

Ned's mouth formed an 'O' shape. "Oh." He said grimly.

"She has to go." Torrhen said quickly.

Ned didn't agree. "Why? Like the Frey's, she has done nothing here."

"If Robb…" Torrhen began, but his Father cut him off.

"Robb is half a continent away and happily married." Ned insisted. "This woman is a good healer, no?" Torrhen reluctantly nodded. "Then her being here is a bonus for us. She will never meet Robb this time, she will never get him to forsake a vow and she won't cause his death."

Torrhen sighed but nodded. "You're right. I'm worried about nothing."

"We'll keep an eye on her." Ned told his son. "But you need to try to differentiate your worlds, Torrhen. I get it, I truly do, but this chance you've been given… think of it like it's a chance for us all, not just you and Mira."

Torrhen nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs Ned had been given for his tent. "I know I should… I just fought for so long on my own that sometimes I forget I'm back, that you're all here."

"You're not alone anymore." Ned smiled warmly, placing a comforting hand on Torrhen's shoulder. "You have all of us, you have Mira."

Torrhen smiled back. "I just wish I could have saved Lord Arryn; I know how much he meant to you."

Ned's smiled faltered. "Yes, well Jon was an old man and he knew the risks. I just hope I can repay the favour to the Kingslayer one day."

Torrhen shook his head. "Father… Jaime is a good man underneath it all." He said slowly, knowing what the reaction would be.

"He's an oathbreaker, Torrhen. He killed his King."

"And in doing that he saved you." Torrhen said, standing up to make his point more prominent. "You didn't see us try him when I showed you my past, he explained it all before he joined us in the fight. The Mad King was going to set off wildfire in King's Landing to burn the entire city, with you in it. Jaime stopped him."

That shocked Ned into silence. He struggled for words for a moment or two. "He still committed many crimes." Ned said finally.

"He did." Torrhen nodded. "That's undeniable, but separate Jaime the knight from Cersei's lover and you have two completely different people."

Ned was about to argue once more when the tent opened again to reveal a sweating Robert. Ned joined Torrhen on his feet as soon as he realised it was Robert. "Your Grace." The pair of them greeted, bowing their heads.

"It's time, Ned." Robert grinned. "One of our scouts has spotted the Western host coming for us. We'll meet them in two days."

Torrhen gulped. "How many?" He asked, knowing the numbers Tywin had under his disposal.

"Around 30,000, maybe 35." Robert told them.

"Half." Torrhen looked over to Ned. "They're only bringing half?"

Ned nodded. "Smart, bleed us here but still keep a sizable host in reserve." He turned to Robert. "What do you want us to do?"

"Gather your Lords." Robert explained. "We have a battle to plan, one I am determined to win."

As Robb marched into Moat Cailin from the North for the second time, he thought once again that he would hate to assault the monstrous fortress. The walls alone were enough to put any man off, and Robb imagined the Ironborn barely got a ladder up before they were slain.

There were numerous dead lying in the bogs surrounding the castle, dozens of men in Ironborn armour that had tried and failed to take the fortress. He could sense the nervous feelings of his own men as they rode or walked into the open gates of the fortress to be welcomed by Howland Reed as he dismounted his horse.

"Lord Robb." The Crannogman greeted, his voice as calm as always. "Welcome back to the North."

Robb bowed his head in respect. "It's good to be back, Lord Howland. It seems you've been busy."

Howland smirked quickly. "The Ironborn expected the Moat to be in its old, decrepit state, not rebuilt. Your Father's silence has benefited us all once again."

"Have they tried only the once?" Robb asked, joining Howland as they walked into the castle towards Torrhen's war room.

"Thrice, but we beat them back every time." Howland explained. "After the second attack they left us alone for a few days when we got a rider come from Barrowton, they've been reaving along the Saltspear ever since trying to get us to meet them in the field. Lord Stout took a third of our forces to harass them and they attacked again, to no avail."

Robb grinned. "When Torrhen mentioned the 100 feet walls I thought him paranoid, it seems he was right once again."

"Our defiance has made them angry though." Howland admitted. "It's not just Barrowton that's in peril, Torrhen's Square and Rillwater Crossing have also had raiders. Flint's Finger too. We haven't had enough men to push them back fully, though as of yet nowhere has fallen."

"Well we do now." Robb told him defiantly. "My men will rest for a day before we march out. Half our forces under myself will go and join with Lord Stout, and Lord Bolton will lead his men to support Flint's Finger."

The courtyard of the castle was so big that they were still outside, when a number of workers rushed in towards the blacksmiths as a loud cry went out. Robb walked over to see how he could help as a couple of men rushed out of the building carrying a howling man, the main smith for the castle.

"My eyes!" The man was roaring in pain. "I can't see!"

Before a commotion could begin Robb was there. "Get the Maester, tell him Robb Stark sent you to get him urgently." He told one of the soldiers in the area, before kneeling by the smith as the two men carrying him sat him down. "What happened?"

"Who's there?" The man asked quickly, scared.

"Robb Stark." Robb answered gently. "Tell me what happened."

The man would have cried if his tear ducts were able to produce tears. "One minute I was hammering away at a sword, the next my eyes were burning and now I can't see! What am I going to do milord? I'm needed in there."

Robb sighed, feeling sorry for the smith. "You're going to go to the infirmary and do exactly as Maester Pylos tells you to do. Don't worry about the forge, I'll see to it that it remains running."

"We'll take him milord." One of the men that had carried him nodded.

Robb smiled. "Thank you." He said honestly. The Stark heir waited for a while before Pylos came and started treating the blinded smith, leaving Robb to walk back to Howland who was looking anxious.

"He was our only senior smith." The Crannogman explained.

Robb suddenly had an inspired idea. "We brought somebody with us from King's Landing by request of Lord Stannis… King Robert's bastard who has worked under Tobho Mott himself."

"Is he good?" Howland asked.

Robb turned around to look for some of his men that were settling back into the castle and spotted Gendry looking around in awe, the bulls head helm under his arm. "He made that himself." He called Gendry over and began to explain the situation to him, with Howland interrupting when needed.

"The apprentices in there are all boys, no older than 14." Howland said to finish the story. "They can make arrowheads and straighten swords, but that's about it."

"I hate to spring this on you immediately, and I know I promised you a place at Winterfell, but your talents would be better served with us here." Robb told the large black-haired man.

"You took me with you when no one wanted me milord." Gendry said. "I'm happy to serve you wherever you see fit."

Robb smiled, shaking Gendry's hand firmly. "Come then, let me find you a room in the smithy and introduce you to the others."

The two days proved to be accurate. Robert had immediately had the camp packed up and the army marched to a strategic field just west of Oxcross, and very quickly had the army set up the way he wanted. Torrhen was to lead the reserve with a mix of archers and cavalry, so he was stood on top of the largest hill staring down at the field below.

He looked down at their own banners, the stag of Baratheon prominently in the centre where Robert would lead the Vanguard with the Frey's and some other minor of the northern Riverland houses. Torrhen's Father held the centre, and Torrhen also saw the banners of House Forrester mixed in with a number of the other Northern houses, while the rest of the Riverlands held each flank.

There was a light breeze going away from them as they looked out at the enemy host across the large field, and Torrhen made sure to factor that in as he gripped his Weirwood bow tightly, happy that the wind was seemingly with them. His arrows were in a basket by his feet. There was movement as Torrhen started to count his arrows up for the 12th time, so his attention was taken by the white flag and three riders coming from the Western forces, and Torrhen noticed the golden hair and white horse belonging to Jaime Lannister. Grimacing, he could only imagine the conversation that was about to take place as he saw King Robert ride forwards with Ser Barristan and Ned. Time seemed to slow as the two groups begun a parley, and it seemed like hours before the two groups split and returned to their forces.

"To arms!" Came the faint call of Robert Baratheon's booming voice. "We break them here!"

"Ready your arrows." Torrhen called out, his northern accent seeming even stronger than normal. "And make them count, down as many of their knights as you can before they clash!" A war horn sounded from their side, and Torrhen watched as the Kingsguard rode out alongside the King and his new Frey family ahead of the rest of the cavalry from either side. The foot soldiers were also sprinting out, following the horses. "NOCK!" Torrhen roared. "DRAW!" He added a moment after that. The Lannister charge was happening at the same time, and Torrhen wanted to time it perfectly. "LOOSE!"

He released his grip on the bowstring and watched as his arrow shot out towards the Lannister advance. He followed his arrow for as long as he could, but soon lost it as the sky was soon filled with thin wooden shafts soaring towards the Lannister men.

The screams began then, as arrows embedded themselves in men, horse and dirt. Torrhen's fired another volley, and then a final one before the knights down below clashed.

It was very quickly chaos reminding Torrhen of the Battle of Winterfell against Ramsay Bolton in the last life, but on a much larger scale. Thousands of mounted knights clattered into one another before they began hacking away at their enemy. Torrhen gave his bow to one of the young bows who had been tasked with collecting the ranged weapons and rushing back to camp when the battle started, and the Stark withdrew the Valyrian Steel sword Winter's Bite. "For the King!" He roared.

"FOR THE KING!" The rest of his men repeated, and Torrhen led the slow reserve march down the hill, looking out for the area that needed reinforcing the most.

If there was one thing that made King Robert Baratheon feel like himself again, it was clattering a man with his weapon and killing him. He hated that he didn't have his Warhammer, but the weapon was too heavy for his fat frame, so he reverted to the sword and shield on horseback that he had been training with Ser Barristan religiously.

The battle had been raging for a while and Robert had taken his fair share of lives already, with help from all the members of his Kingsguard. Ser Arys, Ser Boros, Ser Preston and Ser Barristan surrounded him, taking half of the fun out of it, Robert thought, but the time where he could force his way through an entire vanguard on his own had long gone.

The lines had mixed too Robert thought, as he took his blade out of a Marbrand soldier's throat and saw a Ryswell banner race past him, a banner that should have been long behind him. He blocked another sword swing and stabbed the offender in the chest before the shout that Robert was aching for came over the noise of battle.

"BARATHEON! COME AND FACE ME!" The cocky voice of Jaime Lannister, the cuckolder, boomed out. Robert saw him in his Lannister armour shining in the sunlight, and the large King growled.

"Kingslayer." He snarled. "Not this time though, not today."

He urged his horse forwards, trampling a Westerling knight who had lost his horse and beheading a man in the purple of House Payne. "Protect your King!" He vaguely heard Ser Barristan roar, but he was too focused on the Lannister he was aiming for.

He was blocked off however by Lord Quenten Banefort. Roaring, Robert swung his sword only to be parried by the mounted Westerlander, and so swung again with strength. Robert's sword bit into the Banefort's shield, and the King pulled his sword back with strength, ripping Lord Banefort's shoulder out of his socket as he lurched with the shield his arm was strapped to, his ankle also snapping loudly in the horse spurs. Lord Banefort howled as he flopped to one side, his two injuries agonisingly painful for but a moment until Robert managed to dislodge his sword from the shield and swiftly ended his pain.

As the King got his bearings once more he saw Ser Jaime drive his sword through one of his Kingsguard's throat, yanking his sword to the side to half decapitate the knight. Robert grew angrier and charged towards the Lannister knight, but not before another member of the Kingsguard died at Jaime's hand.

"Protect the King!" Robert heard the booming voice of Ser Barristan once more, thankful that his Lord Commander wasn't one of those to fall. He was soon face to face with the infamous Kingslayer.

"Surrender yourself, Kingslayer." Robert growled.

Jaime's smirk could be seen through his helm. "Kingslayer, it may finally have a good ring to it." He jested. Jaime then charged forwards at Robert, who began his own charge.

Suddenly a figure barrelled through the air and into the Lannister knight, knocking him firmly off his horse and winding the knight. Robert didn't know who it was but recognised the sigil from Ned's boy's bride. The young man cried out as he swung his blade to try and catch the Kingslayer off guard, but Jaime Lannister was too good and too experienced and parried before he rolled out the way and got back to his feet. Robert whirled around and started charging for Jaime again, swinging for the Kingslayer and connecting with the helmet. He turned his horse once more to see that one of the golden faceguards had been knocked off of its hinge and blood was running down Jaime's cheek, but that didn't stop Jaime from duelling with the Forrester that had knocked him off his horse and plunging the golden hilted sword through the Northman's chest.

Robert roared once more as he charged on horseback, now joined by Ser Arys and Ser Barristan as the three of them mounted a joint charge. Jaime wasn't a famed swordsman for nothing though, dodging all of the blows and cleaving his blade through Robert's horse's leg, sending the King to the ground with a thud.

"SURROUND THE KING!" Barristan roared again, and as Robert regained his senses he saw a number of men in all different armours surrounding him, fighting their hardest to protect him. He pushed his horse away and picked up his sword, throwing away his now dented helmet as he gave himself some air.

He heard numerous shouts from all sorts of men, but as his vision was still shaky he couldn't make out anything in particular until a loud war horn sounded. Confused, Robert got to his feet, and was soon helped up by a couple of pairs of arms. He looked around to see the bleeding face of Ned Stark staring back at him. "Ned…" He gasped.

"Are you alright?" Ned asked, all formalities gone. Robert nodded.

"What's happening?" Robert asked in pain.

Ser Barristan answered. "They are retreating, Your Grace."

"The Kingslayer?" Robert asked.

"Gone." Ned said bitterly. "As he felled you he and Ser Barristan duelled until he was surrounded and taken away by his own men. They'll be back at Casterly Rock before we can march."

Robert grimaced at the news. His vision had returned fully by then and he stared around him. Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Barristan were with Ned and a Mallister man, Ser Patrek if Robert remembered rightly. He then looked at the men on the floor, a young Karstark and Lord Halys Hornwood were dead on the ground around Robert, as well as a number of Frey's that Robert couldn't name. His eyes narrowing, Robert looked out to the fleeing men of the west. "I want to follow them as soon as is physically possible. Count and prepare the dead, and then we march."

Torrhen had missed the thick of the fighting, but it had still been a bloody business, with roughly 10,000 of their own forces falling at the Battle of Oxcross, and a similar amount of the Lannister men dying on the fields as well. As dusk fell and pyres were being lit for the dead of all allegiances, it gave the young Stark a moment to reflect and mourn. He was stood by the pyre of Rodrik Forrester, the heir to Ironrath having given his life to protect the King from Jaime Lannister. Other pyres were burning for other Lords and nobles, with Harald Karstark and the brothers Benfred and Brandon Tallhart among the Northern dead.

Torrhen couldn't bring himself to move. He had long felt guilty over the decimation of House Forrester before he died before, and now he was here standing at another Forrester's pyre, Rodrik dead because Torrhen was responsible for starting a war. He didn't see Ned standing beside him until the elder Stark spoke. "It's not your fault."

"I told you the truth. We went to war because I told people the truth about me." Torrhen said bitterly. "Now Mira has lost two brothers."

"Rodrik made his choice." Ned said gently. "He honoured himself by sacrificing himself for his King, he did himself and his family proud."

"He's still dead." Torrhen muttered.

"Aye, he is." Ned sighed. "But he wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

Torrhen sighed. "How am I going to tell Mira?"

Ned looked pained. "Firstly we make sure Rodrik didn't die in vain. We still have a long road ahead of us, Torrhen. Lannisport and Casterly Rock lie ahead. Keep Rodrik in your heart and avenge him, if that drives you."

Torrhen nodded, watching the flames rise higher in the darkening sky. 'I'll protect the rest of them, Rodrik. I swear.' He vowed. 'No other Forrester will die if I can help it.'

Tyrion honestly couldn't remember the last time he had seen his brother this angry. Jaime had arrived back at the Rock with a nasty new scar below his left eye absolutely furious that the other commanders in the battle at Oxcross had sounded the retreat. Tywin had very quickly pulled him up to his solar out of earshot of the castle.

"I had him! I had Robert in my sights!" Jaime ranted. "A few more moments and I'd have had his head in my grasp and the Starks running for the hills!"

"Enough!" Tywin roared, shutting Jaime up. "That doesn't matter now."

"Doesn't matter?" Jaime asked incredulously. "How doesn't it matter? I could have ended this war if I hadn't have been dragged away from the battlefield like a petulant child."

"It doesn't matter because we need as many men in Lannisport and Casterly Rock as we can get." Tywin said firmly. "Our scouts were wrong. Loras Tyrell wasn't at Crakehall."

That intrigued Tyrion. "Then who was?" He asked.

"Randyll Tarly." Tywin said bitterly. "Who was fortunately slain, although one of the Hightower sons took up the command and managed to take Crakehall, Lord Roland has been captured. They are on their way here as we speak. As is Loras Tyrell with a different army, who somehow silenced the Gold Road and are also on their way here."

Tyrion felt the dread in the room. "Two armies from the Reach, and King Robert's own army all converging on us here…" He trailed off. "We can't fight that."

"We don't need to fight. Casterly Rock has never fallen, and it never shall." Tywin said firmly. "Once King's Landing falls to Kevan then these armies will rush back to take back the Capital, and we shall ride out and strike. The Greyjoy's will harass the North, and we shall be victorious yet." Tyrion could see that the confidence in Tywin's voice didn't match his eyes but kept quiet as he noticed that Jaime had gained courage from that. "So quit your irate shouting, Jaime, and ensure that you are ready for a long siege. They shall never take the Rock, and we must remain strong."

Jaime nodded, and Tyrion noticed that that was a dismissal and joined his brother on the way down the many stairs. "It's funny, you were always the pretty one and I was the clever one." Tyrion noted. "Now it seems that I'm both the pretty and clever Lannister."

"My face might be scarred, but my sword arm is as good as ever." Jaime said with a grin. "Don't tempt me to use it, brother."

"Has our sister seen your dashing looks?" Tyrion asked.

Jaime's grin faded. "I've not seen her yet."

Tyrion felt bad for his brother. "She'll accept it. She has to." He said quietly.

Jaime appreciated that and decided to pick Tyrion up and carry the dwarf on Jaime's back for the rest of the descent, until Jaime placed him down by the library. "Enjoy your books, Tyrion." He said earnestly. "Read them all before we have to start burning them for our fires."

Tyrion then watched as Jaime turned his back to him and walked away, leaving Tyrion alone outside the library doors. The youngest of Lord Tywin's children grimaced as he thought on what was to come. His thoughts then turned to his sister's youngest children, and the thought of them going through an unwinnable siege turned his stomach. Knowing he couldn't stand by to put those innocent children through such horrors, he made a promise to himself to get them out before the armies converged on them.