Grace & Fury

As ever, Robb watched from Harrenhal's battlements, wearing a mask of stone that betrayed none of the fear and anxiety that made his heart drum against his chest so loud it drowned out even the drums of war that beat all around.

Constant, everpresent.

Fiery war engines hurled great masses of stone from distant fields that flew across sad grey skies then struck the unyielding walls of Harrenhal, tall and dark. The stones boomed, then split into a thousand shards and rained down on those below.

The days had blurred and the sight had become almost natural.

"Bows steady, now! They'll come at any moment! I wouldn't trust those bastards past what you can see yourself!"

Atop the gatehouse, Brynden Tully shouted for the archers while Greatjon readied his men for the inevitable moment when they would have to sally out to meet the lions of Lannister and the roses of Highgarden, numerous as they were.

The ravens had been sent out in time, fortunately, but that did not mean reinforcements would be upon them soon. So, they would hold... for as long as they could.

Northmen and Rivermen all. They would hold.

That was all they could truly do.

Greatjon wanted to sally out, a number of the Northern Lords agreed while the Lords of the Trident and the Vale found reason to Robb's decision of holding.

"Worry not, my nephew," Edmure assured from beside him, forcing something of a smile as he patted his shoulder. "We have the supplies, and I doubt it will take long for the Vale to be upon our foes."

"If they come," Rodrik Cassel said with a sigh. "Bronze Yohn is brave and shrewd. The numbers of the Eyrie are nothing against what we seem to face. He knows this well. We've counted a hundred thousand, and are counting still. As ever, men place far too much faith on Gods."

Robb cast a glance his way, then turned his eyes back to the fields beyond the castle. Even from the distance, he could see great pavilions and tents strewn about the grassy plains that surrounded Harrenhal.

He knew there was a lake not far from there, and that his enemies would not be lacking for water. And when it came to food, Highgarden had nothing if not food. One needed only a look at the fat Lord Mace Tyrell to glean that bit of truth.

No attempts at scaling the walls had been made, and it would be apparent to even the most amateur general that their enemies truly intended to starve them out, then sweep over them with overwhelming numbers.

"If you're willing to permit it, milord..."

Addam started from behind and Robb couldn't help but pay attention. His company was mostly grown men who had spent longer on a battlefield than Robb had alive, and while even Addam was a few years his senior, he found some purchase in their shared inexperience.

There were others but, they didn't serve his house as closely as the young knight did.

"Go on," Robb nodded.

"Come nightfall, I can take some men into the Lannister camp, gut their command as they sleep. Cut off the snake's head, so to speak. I doubt their men will wish to continue this after."

"A craven's way," Rodrik stroked his beardless chin. "Yet there is merit to what the boy says. If done right, we'll shed little blood, if any at all. Still, I doubt you'll find any willing to follow."

Addam nodded at the old master-at-arms, then looked to Robb. "Not if the Lord of the North allows it."

Edmure Tully, his uncle, seemed less than open to the prospect of assassination. The war, and what they had seen so far in it, had made his hair go from the bright red of the Tullys to a duller shade, his beard now streaked with strands of grey. 

"Robb, even if we do win this way, it's not something any will look upon fondly. We need to think about what comes after, not just what happens here and now."

Robb considered his uncle's word deeply for a moment, then made his decision.

-

Addam had forgone plate and mail for a dull gambeson and a duller brigandine that he'd coated with some dark dye Robb scarcely recognised.

Torch in hand, he watched the youth tie his boots, and check the sleek longsword at his waist. 

As it stood, Addam would slope down the wall using rope with half a dozen men under his command, then sneak through the tall blades of grass in the dead of the night to the Lannister camp so they could do what was necessary.

The knight knelt on one knee, his head lowered, "We should be off then. I'll bring you Tywin's head."

"Why?" Robb asked. "This is not something a knight should be willing to do."

Addam stopped, then looked up with steeled eyes, "These bastards don't deserve mercy, milord. Not after all they've done. No doubt they raped and slaughtered whatever they found on the way here. That's how they are. This is what they deserve."

In that moment, Robb saw hatred like he never had before.

"Very well. Go."

Robb began to consider what war spelled for the common man. Then, he considered briefly if that was why Karl had been so brutal.

He turned about, and began his long walk to the Kingspyre Tower where his quarters had been set up. There was no reason to stop and watch his men disappear into the darkness stretching beyond.

They could lose their lives, yes, he acknowledged that, but the lives that would be spared on the chance they succeeded were too many to overlook. In the worst case, it could spur the Lannisters to attack but that too would be to their advantage.

In the end however, he couldn't help but wonder what had given them the confidence to break their word and wage war. 

Did they intend to simply offer their lives up?

Robb mused in silence as he walked.

Suddenly, the quiet that allowed him to think in peace was all but tossed over the wall. Screeching thunder broke through the night, shocking all into action.

Where there had been a calm breeze a moment ago, howling winds hammered the walls, disturbing all those at rest and terrifying all those standing on guard.

"By the Gods, what the fuck is that noise?!"

Rain followed. Then came flame coloured lightning that arched across dark skies, lighting up the plains. It quieted down before striking again, once more illuminating the particularly dark night.

Just when Robb stopped to heave a relieved sigh, it started again.

Then stopped, and started again and again and again.

It struck the fields around them, setting the wet grass alight where it did char and tear the ground asunder. 

A manner of storm none of them had ever seen before. Robb hadn't even known storms like these even came to be. He saw men run for cover, while others yet reeled from the sudden nature of it all.

It seemed it wasn't done however.

Out of the raging thunder came a roar like a thousand nails to rusting iron, forcing them to cover their ears lest they lose them entirely.

As Robb looked about to find the source, he spotted a great mass of black fall through the clouds that had swept over a clear night sky. It twirled, and some part of it fell loose, giving way to flame and lightning that seemed to course through its thick veins.

That... thing. It was roaring.

"Where..."

In some dark corner of his mind, Robb felt the sight familiar but he struggled to make sense of his own thoughts.

After all, what familiarity had he with this great beast in the dark that brought with it storm and ruin?

His confusion grew when the creature unfurled great wings of charred stone that drove away the dark of the night with flame and thunder combined. He saw great red eyes burning with fury, and three curved horns bent to look a jagged crown.

It reeled its great chest in, then opened its terrible maw to spill a great sea of flame that came bubbling up from its throat. It dove down through the sky, and passed through the Lannister camp. When it was gone and turned to make for them once more, the ground erupted in burning stone and waves of flame that burnt away all those that sought to bring them harm.

The beast halted then, and Robb thought it seemed confused, before diving down low and clutching something with its claws. The grasp was tender, unlike the great cataclysm it had unleashed moments before.

With a flap of its burning wings, it took to the skies.

"Dragon!" Cried those of his men that were not frozen still in fear, but Robb knew deep down that was not what it was. Not even Balerion the Black Dread was told to be of such great magnitude, not capable of such great calamity.

The truth was bare before them. Harrenhal's molten towers were a testament to the fury of the beast that made the Targaryens king of men. The fury of the being before them was far greater, far more brutal.

Even Aegon the Conqueror had stopped once the Hoares bent the knee. This beast did not. Even when it burnt all that lived, and then that which did not.

It passed once, twice and thrice and when it stopped spewing flame, the verdant plains of grass that surrounded Harrenhal had become a charred black crack in the earth.

Gone were the mighty Lannisters who had more gold than all else and wore the finest armour in the Seven Kingdoms.

Gone were the Roses of Highgarden who boasted of the greatest force and the most bountiful land in the Seven Kingdoms.

All that was left of their glory, were burning fields and molten earth.

Any who saw would there understand, what was the ambition of men to the fury of what had been there before them all?

...What was a man to God?

When all was done, and a force over a hundred thousand strong had been burnt away in but a moment, the great beast turned and flew their way.

It was then that they forgot to breathe.

It was then that Robb finally understood the familiarity he had felt before.

He knew what it was.

They all knew.

-

Hope you enjoyed.

Be sure to check out Fate/World. Those 2 chaps have over 6k words between them iirc so you've no worries of me deleting it.