Chapter 29: The Siege of Lannisport

Casterly Rock was unusually quiet the next morning, but not for long. Even from Tywin's chambers up in the top levels of the castle he could hear the scream of his daughter before he had even had a chance to eat his breakfast.

Naturally, it wasn't too long before both she and Jaime came charging into the room, Cersei with a look of rage fit for a Baratheon on her face. "He's taken them!" She screamed.

"Quiet down!" Tywin exclaimed firmly as he hid the letter he had just received. "Who's taken them?"

"The Imp!" Cersei snarled. "He's taken Myrcella and Tommen!"

"They're all missing." Jaime explained more calmly, his ugly scar staring right at Tywin. "Tommen's handmaiden came to Cersei just now to explain that she was gone, and Myrcella's did the same not a minute later."

Tywin clenched his teeth together in annoyance. "And Tyrion did this, how?"

"Because he's not here either." Jaime said quickly before Cersei could get a word in. "We've checked his chambers, the library, the kitchens… he's not in the castle."

Tywin stood up out of his seat, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "He's likely off whoring somewhere." He dismissed. "And the children are likely playing some game."

"They're not here." Cersei snarled. "He took them!"

"Joffrey?" Tywin asked.

Jaime shook his head. "Safe in his rooms. I've already posted 5 men on his door, he is safe."

"Very well." Tywin nodded. "I'll have the castle searched."

Cersei looked incredulous. "That's it?"

"Until it's proven that they aren't in the castle, I'm not going to let any of my men wander off to Lannisport when there's a siege coming." Tywin glowered at his daughter. "I will find them."

Cersei scoffed and turned to Jaime, but saw she was getting no help from her twin and threw her arms up in exasperation. "Fine!" She cried. "But if anything happens to them, my wrath will not be contained."

She turned and stormed out dramatically, slamming the door as she went. Jaime sighed loudly. "We should send a party to Lannisport, just to be on the safe side."

"Evidently." Tywin said drolly. "But your sister would spread the word and I cannot have the men thinking that abandoning the Rock is an option. Choose four trustworthy men and tell them to search the brothels for your brother. If he's not there either, then Cersei's claims may be true."

"How can they be? Tyrion would never…" Jaime began.

"You heard him yesterday." Tywin said, more bitterly than he had intended. "He said we cannot win. We cannot escape the possibility that he has abandoned us to save his own skin."

"He wouldn't." Jaime said firmly. "He's loyal to us."

"He's loyal to you." Tywin corrected. "Nothing that boy could do to betray us is a surprise to me."

Jaime was about to argue, but at that moment the bells of the castle began ringing. Confused, Jaime rushed over to one of the windows and opened the shutters. From Tywin's chambers you had an excellent view of the plains surrounding both Casterly Rock and Lannisport, as well as the three roads leading into the city, the River Road, the Gold Road and the Ocean Road. Jaime looked around, until he spotted something in the distance and gulped. "Warrior save us…" He whispered.

Tywin would have scoffed at the remark had he not seen it too. "Prepare the garrison for siege." He ordered. "We will soon be surrounded."

Rillwater Crossing was a small farm town separated by the Saltspear river, and the stone bridges joining the eastern part of the town to the western part converged on an island, where the castle of Glenmore Keep was located, still flying the white bow and arrow on a brown field of House Glenmore. It was the main defence of the Saltspear, and if it fell it would mean that the North as far inland as Torrhen's Square could fall.

Robb was pleased to see the Glenmore banners flying high as he and his men rode towards the town, but very quickly he saw the longboats of the Ironborn landing near the spiked heads of past invaders. Rushing into action, he withdrew his sword and wheeled his horse around to face his goodfather, Ser Wylis Manderly. "Have your men ensure the protection of the smallfolk." He called out, before turning to Lord Stout, who had joined him from Barrowton. "Take your men and ride for the coast. Take their larger ships or burn them, I don't care. Just ensure that they can't leave."

"Yes Lord Stark." Lord Stout bowed his head. "MEN OF THE BARROWS! WITH ME!" He cried, before riding southwards with his thousand or so men.

"DRIVE THE IRONBORN BACK INTO THE SEA!" Robb cried out for the rest of his men. "FOR WINTERFELL!"

"WINTERFELL!" The rest of Robb's mounted force screamed out in unison, and Robb led the charge towards Rillwater Crossing with Grey Wind at his side, the Stark's sword pointed towards the town. They raced past the outer farms and down through the main street of the eastern settlement, and quickly Robb hit the first Ironborn reaver, cutting him open as he raced past on his horse.

To their credit, even the villagers were fighting back with bows, as the sigil of House Glenmore proved to clearly be the sigil of the entire town. Arrows flew out of the top stories of the houses and inn on in the town striking the Ironborn as Robb and his men battered them from the street. It wasn't long before Robb was on the riverbed racing down towards the longboats just pulling in dropping more men off, and Robb saw the man leading the attack, the one man in steel armour and a kraken helm who must have been Victarion Greyjoy, a huge axe in his hands as he stepped on the land.

Robb narrowed his eyes in concentration as he rode over with speed towards the Greyjoy man, cutting down numerous Ironborn in the process. He was soon bearing down on Victarion, who dodged Robb's thrust of the sword and swung his great axe, taking off the back legs of Robb's horse.

Robb jumped away from his mount, careful to roll properly before he came to a stop and forced himself onto his feet. He grimaced at the slight pain in his side as he readied himself sword in hand for the advance of Victarion. The Ironborn noble swung his axe again, and Robb ducked out the way slashing out with his blade as he did only to get parried by the shaft of the axe. He ducked the massive axe once more, this time though his own swing caught Victarion on the side, but it didn't go through the grey mail that Victarion was wearing. The axe came again, and Robb parried it to his left with all his might, watching as the axe head buried itself in the dirt. Feeling his chance, Robb slashed with a backhanded swing, only for Victarion to block the sword coming for his neck with his left wrist guard, and the Ironborn let go of the axe to punch Robb fiercely in the face.

The Stark went sprawling to the ground, his jaw in agony and blood dripping down his broken nose. He crawled away, only to be yanked back by both of Victarion's hands on his leg. "You're not going anywhere." Victarion snarled.

As the Ironborn let go Robb scampered away as fast as he could on his back, watching terrified as Victarion forced the axe out of the ground and walked menacingly towards him. One of the Northerner's wearing Manderly armour raced to his aid, but Victarion split him in two with his axe without breaking eye contact. A villager also tried to help Robb, but her head soon was separated from her body too. Victarion soon loomed over Robb, his hands flexing on the axe handle. "I'll offer your bones to the Drowned God." He growled, lifting the axe above his head.

Robb shut his eyes waiting for the blow to come but it never did. The twang of a bowstring was heard, followed by a grunt from Victarion. Robb opened his eyes to see an arrow sticking out of the Ironborn's leg, before a second later a grey blur shot past him, and Grey Wind's jaw clamped around Victarion's arm.

The Ironborn screamed, dropping his axe to the ground with a thud as he tried to shake the direwolf off of his arm, but Grey Wind wasn't budging. His other hand now free, Victarion tried to punch the wolf off, but to no avail as three arrows quickly found their way into Victarion's back. Robb forced himself up and grabbed his sword off the ground, blood pouring out of his nose. "Not today, Greyjoy." He responded over Victarion's screams.. "Your God will have to wait for my bones."

Robb ripped the helm off of Victarion and smashed his sword pommel down against Victarion's skull, causing him to drop to his knees and the floor unconscious instantaneously. Groaning, he dropped the kraken helm and brought his arm up to his nose, trying to stop the flow of blood. His eyesight was just slightly blurry, but he managed to make out the young Cregan Glenmore, the acting Lord of Rillwater Crossing now that his brother and Father were down with the rest of the Northern forces in the Westerlands, coming towards him.

"Lord Robb, are you alright?" Cregan asked.

Robb nodded. "I'll be fine." He said, although his words were slightly slurred as speaking pained him. "Your town?"

"We've pushed them back once more." Cregan said. "We should kill this one though."

Cregan kicked the prone Victarion in the ribs, but Robb shook his head. "He's Victarion Greyjoy, the best commander Balon has. We'll take him back to Winterfell and keep him prisoner." The Stark looked around and noticed that the Ironborn that weren't already dead were being rounded up. "Do what you want with the rest of them though."

Cregan Glenmore grinned. "Aye, My Lord." The boy turned to his men. "See that Robb is well looked after and has a good room to rest in."

And Robb found himself being dragged away by two of the Elite Guard of Rillwater Crossing, and he figured he must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew he was waking up in a comfy bed with a pounding headache.

He tried to sit himself up, although almost immediately he was set upon by the Maester. "Easy, My Lord." The Maester said, moving the pillows so that Robb could sit up comfortably. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been punched in the face by a giant." Robb groaned. "What happened?"

"You passed out on the way into the castle." The Maester replied. "I immediately had you taken out of your armour and into something more comfortable before I gave you some poppy wine to ease the pain and set about fixing your injuries. You have a broken nose and some blackness around the eye, but other than that you are healthy."

Robb was grateful. "Thank you, Maester…"

"Luthor." Maester Luthor answered.

"Well, look who's finally awake." A voice came from the doorway. Robb turned his head gingerly to see Cregan Glenmore dressed in the Elite Guard armour of his House. "I'm glad to see you well, Lord Stark."

"As am I." Robb admitted. "What happened?"

Cregan sat down in one of the chairs in the room. "We've been throwing back raiding parties on and off for a few weeks now, but this one was the largest by far led by Victarion Greyjoy of all people. We were about to close our gates and hope for the best when you and your men turned up. Once you engaged them I sent out my archers to join you, and I found you about to be gutted by Victarion himself so shot him, and you know the rest until you came here."

Robb nodded. "Our losses?"

"A dozen." Cregan told him. "You truly caught them by surprise, and your horse trampled through their lines. We have more good news too."

"Aye?" Robb asked.

Cregan grinned. "Lord Stout captured all 7 ships that was still in the mouth of the Saltspear, including the Iron Victory."

Robb let out a laugh there. "That will send a message."

"He's back here now, waiting for orders." Cregan told him.

Robb thought for a moment, although the pain in his head was growing. "Tell Lord Stout to follow Ser Wylis and continue pushing the Ironborn back from our shores. The Stoney Shore and Deepwood Motte likely need some aid. I'm going back to Winterfell though with our prisoner."

Cregan nodded. "Of course My Lord, but you can rest for as long as you need here at Glenmore Keep."

Robb nodded. "Thank you, but I'll only stay until I'm fit to ride. Victarion needs to be away from the water and in the dungeons of Winterfell before I'll feel truly comfortable."

"Speaking of Winterfell." Cregan grinned. "You've been on campaign for so long you may not have heard. Congratulations My Lord, you have a son."

Robb couldn't help his grin as he processed the news. "A son? Wylla's had the babe?"

"A boy named Beron." Cregan nodded.

Robb couldn't get the grin off of his face for the longest time after that, and he soon fell back to sleep thinking of his newborn son, longing to meet him.

The march from Oxcross to Lannisport took double the time it should have as the Northmen and Rivermen nursed their injuries, but they arrived to see an already fully functioning siege in place, with golden rose banners fluttering in the breeze alongside a number of other Reach houses. The set up reminded Torrhen of Bitterbridge a bit, but there were roughly half the men that had been under Renly when the Baratheon had stupidly claimed Kingship.

The younger Stark rode closely behind his Father at the front of the lines as they rode into camp escorted by a couple of Tyrell guards, and they were led to a clearing on the edge of the siege camp where all of the Reacher Lords and nobles had gathered to greet their King. As Torrhen dismounted he recognised a number of banners, with Houses Tyrell, Hightower, Tarly, Florent, Oakheart and Ambrose among the more notable in the gathering.

Torrhen dismounted at the same time as King Robert did, and watched on as the Reachmen all bent their knee towards their King. The Stark boy waited for Balerion to come to his side before he stood next to his Father and Uncle Edmure and continued watching when Robert bid everyone to rise.

"Ser Loras." Robert greeted. "You have my thanks for your efforts in the South."

Loras bowed his head. "We were at your service, Your Grace. The Lannister's have spat upon the Kingdom's far too often, it was our duty to aid you in this war."

"I hear you had struck an agreement with my brothers." Robert said. That surprised Torrhen as he hadn't heard anything. "I hope my apologies came back with you with Ser Bryan."

Loras nodded. "We had heard we were too late, but it is no matter. House Tyrell is loyal to House Baratheon, and Margaery will be happy with her new betrothed I am sure."

"New betrothed?" Torrhen whispered to his Father. Ned just shrugged.

Robert then moved to greet some of the Reach Lords, having small conversations with each of them. His final call was in front of the young man of an age with Torrhen beneath the Tarly banner. "You are?"

"Lord Dickon Tarly, Your Grace. Of Horn Hill." Dickon explained.

"Where is Lord Randyll?" Robert asked.

Dickon's eyes went to the ground. "Dead, slain at Crakehall." He said mournfully. "I wield Heartsbane now, Your Grace."

Torrhen sucked in a breath in shock, along with a number of the men beside him. He couldn't see Robert's face, but guessed it was sorrowful judging by the large hand that went to the Tarly boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that. Randyll Tarly was the one man to hand me a defeat, he will be missed."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Dickon said.

Robert then went back to Loras. "What is the state of the siege?" He asked.

Baelor Hightower coughed and stepped forwards. "Your Grace, we have Lannisport and the roads to Casterly Rock surrounded by men, and the Redwyne Fleet is blockading the bay so no ships can get to either city or castle. They are running on their own stores."

"Good." Robert nodded happily. "And what are you doing to break their spirits other than sitting here? I won the rebellion thanks to the lax efforts at Storm's End, I won't give them a chance to do the same to me."

"Trebuchets are being built." Loras mentioned. "But we arrived only a few days before you, Your Grace."

Robert nodded his understanding. "Hasten the work on the siege engines and start firing on the city. Once that falls to us, we can focus our efforts on the Rock with city walls at our backs in case of any treachery. And send any spare Maesters you have, we have a lot of wounded with us from Oxcross."

"Your Grace." The Lords bowed their heads before being dismissed, and Robert turned back to Ned. "I shouldn't be grateful that Mace Tyrell is dead, but if he were here we'd be days behind already."

"If he were here then they would have likely joined the Lannister's by marrying Margaery to Joffrey." Ned muttered, and Robert snorted out a laugh.

"Perhaps you're right." The jolly King chuckled. "Well, we'll set up camp and add our strength to theirs. With any luck the Lannisport Lannister's will open their gates to us quickly."

Torrhen didn't think that would happen any time soon. He stared up at the high, red stoned walls and noted how strong the defence from such a structure would be, not even wanting to think about how difficult taking Casterly Rock in the distance would prove to be. "Come, Balerion." The Stark muttered, turning away from the walls to find his tent and to help set it up properly, as it would likely be standing for a long time.

Winterfell was a sight for sore eyes. The ride up from Rillwater Crossing had been a blissfully quick one with Robb's party containing only half a dozen men, including their prisoner. Victarion Greyjoy had been chained to a wagon kindly provided by Cregan Glenmore and gagged so he couldn't make any noise, which made life a lot easier for Robb.

They got to the Wintertown as the sun was beginning to set, and Robb passed through the gates of Winterfell just as the sky was darkening, although the faces that were there to greet him made him almost weep with joy. He had barely dismounted his horse by the time that Rickon had flung himself at Robb, throwing his little arms around Robb's neck.

"I've missed you too, brother." Robb said softly, hugging the young Stark back. He placed Rickon down on the ground and walked over to hug his mother and three sisters quickly, noticing Grey Wind racing away to the Godswood with the direwolf's brother and sisters, before Robb was stood in front of his wife.

"Lord Robb." She curtseyed quickly, not disturbing the bundle of furs in her arms.

"My Lady." Robb greeted with a smile. "Is this…?"

Wylla smiled back at him. "Your son, Beron Stark."

She handed him the bundle of furs and Robb saw his boy for the very first time. He had a thin mop of Robb's hair colour, and Beron's eyes were open wide taking it all in. Robb felt himself welling up as he shifted himself so he was holding the baby in one arm, the other gloved hand coming up to stroke the child's chubby cheek. "Hello." Robb whispered.

"We've had a meal ordered for your chambers." Cat told him. "We should get the children out of this cold."

Robb noticed his youngest sister, Sara, was squirming in Cat's arms and nodded. "Aye." He turned to one of the Stark men that had travelled with him. "See that Greyjoy is put in a cell."

"Is that Victarion?" Arya whispered as the large Ironborn was dragged away. "He doesn't look that scary."

Robb chuckled as he followed his family inside the castle. "You wouldn't say that if you saw him in battle, his axe is bigger than me."

"You fought him?" Wylla asked, worried.

Robb didn't want to worry them but couldn't lie either. "Aye, and he's a tough old squid. But I am here, and he is my prisoner. We don't need to worry about the Ironborn anymore."

While he was feeling the lure of his warm bed and wife, Robb found himself recounting tales of his battles and adventures to an enthralled Arya, Rickon and Robin Arryn as he ate his meals. Even Sansa and Cat sat in listening, though for the latter the excitement was completely drowned out by worry and fear. It was late into the night by the time that Cat had ushered the younger children out of Robb's room and left him alone with his wife and child.

"You've been missed." Wylla admitted as she began to brush out her hair to ready herself for bed while Robb was placing Beron in the cot in the corner of his room, having to dodge a snoozing Grey Wind on the floor. "All of you."

Robb smiled down at the sleeping baby before he turned to his wife. She was sat at a desk looking into a mirror as she brushed, and so Robb moved to stand behind her and leant down so his face was in the crook of her neck. He kissed the exposed skin, causing her to murmur in happiness. "And I've missed you." He breathed against her.

"Robb." She said with a happy sigh. "Maester Luwin has said that it's too soon for that."

Robb shook his head. "I don't care, I've just missed my wife." He whispered into her ear. "Come to bed."

Wylla scoffed, putting the brush down on the desk and stood up, kissing him softly on the lips. "Are you staying at Winterfell now?" She asked him afterwards.

Robb nodded, standing upright once more and loosening his shirt. Wylla stopped him and began to do it herself. "Aye, Maester Luthor of Rillwater Crossing suggested I take it easy for a while after my battle with Greyjoy, and with the Reach joining us in the West I'm no longer needed. We will root the Ironborn out of the North easy enough, and then we will have peace for a time."

Wylla lifted Robb's shirt over his head, exposing his bare torso before her. She traced a scar on his chest. "I like the sound of peace." She whispered.

Robb kissed her once more, carefully picking her up and placing her in the bed underneath the covers. With one harm under her neck and the other holding her hand between her breasts, Robb felt like he could drift off to sleep in comfort for the first time since he left Winterfell.

Bran had settled into a routine relatively quickly in King's Landing. His mornings were spent by ensuring Stannis had his meals on time and fresh clothes to get into before the young Stark went to train while the Small Council held its meetings. Then after his midday meal Bran had a few hours with his mentor learning about ruling and taking extensive history lessons about House Baratheon, Dragonstone and the Stormlands to prepare himself for his future role as the Lord of Dragonstone and the husband of Shireen. Finally he had some time to himself, which he often spent in the Godswood of the Red Keep with Summer. Bran didn't like it anywhere near as much as he did the Winterfell Godswood, although at least here they actually had a Heart Tree unlike Dragonstone.

He was sat with his back to the rock where those that followed the Old Gods in the castle knelt and prayed towards the great oak covered in smokeberry vines that the first Targaryen King's had decided could replace a Weirwood watching as Summer was propped up on her hind legs leaning against the low stone wall facing out to Blackwater Bay. The direwolf's ears were up and he was moving his head from side to side quickly, as if he was searching for something.

"What is it, Summer?" Bran asked. The direwolf turned his neck to quickly look at Bran, before looking back out to the water. Bran just huffed. "Fine, ignore me then."

That was the only problem here in King's Landing for Bran. He loved the city and learning from someone as smart as Stannis Baratheon, but there were very few children his age about. It would be better if Shireen was here, he thought. They had gotten on really well on Dragonstone and Bran thought of her as a friend. Sighing, Bran stood himself up and stretched his legs. "Come on, Summer."

The direwolf pushed himself backwards and onto all four legs as Bran walked slowly back towards the Red Keep, although he didn't even get halfway down the stone steps when the mournful sound of bells ringing came from the direction of the Sept of Baelor.

Bran didn't understand, but his lessons from Stannis had taught him a little bit of what the bells meant, and the slow thunderous booming noise that he heard wasn't one of the good situations. Without thinking, he ran back towards the Red Keep at full pelt to see soldiers everywhere picking up weapons and leaving the castle in an orderly manner to go towards the city. He saw Lord Redfort and a number of Valemen among them, and the Vale Lord noticed Bran and Summer and gestured them over.

"Lord Stannis is in the Throne Room, lad." Lord Horton explained. "Go quickly."

Bran nodded and went as directed. The Throne room was packed with both soldiers and noble women all rushing about. He saw Stannis talking to the Queen and walked slowly over to them, not wanting to interrupt.

"Get to Maegor's Holdfast and lower the portcullis." Stannis was saying. "You will have Ser Mandon with you at all times. Do as he says."

Fair Walda Frey nodded. "Of course, Lord Stannis." She turned to her handmaids and other noble women. "Come, ladies. Let us leave all these brave men to defend us."

With that she departed, and Bran walked over to the balding Baratheon. "My Lord." He announced himself.

"Ah good, you're here." Stannis noted gruffly. "Go and put your armour on, Brandon. Urgently."

"What's happening?" Bran asked.

"We received reports earlier today of an unknown fleet sailing past Sharp Point." Stannis explained. "It seems that they are here earlier than we had planned for. King's Landing will soon be under attack, so put your armour on and attend me as my squire." Bran nodded, gulping. Stannis noticed the boys fear. "Don't worry." He said, about as caringly as Stannis could muster. "You won't be in any thick fighting."

"Who is it?" Bran asked.

Stannis grimaced. "Not even Varys knows, if he is to be believed." The Baratheon said, letting more slip than he likely would have under normal circumstances. "Go, be back here as quick as you can."

Bran nodded and sprinted away to his room. He quickly got a small version of his family's armour on and tightened, as well as the steel gorget with two snarling direwolves detailed on it to protect his neck. He was quickly ready thanks to one of the servant's sons helping him into the armour and Bran quickly had a look out of the window. The sun was still bright in the sky but it was beginning to set slowly, and that gave Bran a fantastic view of Blackwater Bay, as well as the dozens of ships with maroon sails that had little specks of gold on them. Bran knew his sigils and his history well enough, and the tales of the Blackfyre Rebellions had made it easy to recognise the Golden Company banner coming towards King's Landing with a vengeance.