Chapter 20: The Stranger's Noose

130 AC

Stoney Sept

"Should I order an increase in the pace of our march? I am certain our horsemen might reach in time for the battle." Criston asked me as I re-read the message from Hobert Hightower. Aemond was always a hothead and now feeling himself deprived of glory, he decided to strike it out alone against Cregan Stark. Aemond has always wanted glory, well this was his chance and he better not screw it up.

Tyland snorted, "At the cost of killing our horses perhaps. We are too far away. Had Prince Aemond waited another day or two perhaps we might have made it."

I toss the message and say, "Aemond made his bed, let him lie in it. If he wants the glory let him go and fight for it. We will keep to our present pace."

"Your Grace, what if you were to fly on Sunfyre to aid him?" Criston pressed me to which I shook my head. Sunfyre's wing membranes were still tender and I didn't fancy a flight to the Green Fork. I wasn't a hundred per cent ready for I was still in the haze of recovery, not yet out of the woods. Something that a calm peaceful and long sleep and a day of rest would cure but I find myself robbed of peace and calm and rest with the news of Cregan Stark's march and with the workload of dealing with this war. This war is taxing on my already depleted alcohol-riven health, the fall was more damaging to my body than I thought it would be.

I replied as I heard a commotion outside the tent, "Have some faith in Aemond, he has nearly twice the number of the Starks. I doubt he will lose, at most it might be a bloody draw." I turned to the closed flap of my tent and said, "What the fuck is going on outside?"

Arryk struck his head inside from the flap, "Terribly sorry, Your Grace, but there is a slight problem happening outside."

"Yeah, no shit, what is going on?" I snorted as I got up from my chair.

"Two separate conflicts have broken out within the camp," Arryk began to my shock before I could say anything he rushed to assure me, "Nothing big, Ser Rickard and I managed to stop any fighting breaking out between the men-at-arms, for now it has been contained only to the nobles."

"Good, very good," I said with relief before asking, "Who are these lords who seek to squabble in my camp?"

"Humfrey Bracken and Benjicot Blackwood have gotten into a tussle over who now owns the disputed lands between them and Lord Unwin Peake has gotten into a fight with Lord Kermit Tully over something related to their pride and honour and role in the war and whatnot, I am not sure about the second one," Arryk replied with an apologetic shrug.

Why are these old bozos getting into fights with boys younger than their sons?

"Perhaps, this might not be the best moment to..." Tyland tried to say but I waved it off as I sat back down on my chair.

"Aemond's battle will happen regardless and there is nothing we can do about it. This is my day for seeing people I suppose, and while we are at it I might as well hold court here and I will seek to resolve the disputes of the people of the Stoney Sept," I said to Tyland before turning to Arryk, "Send them in, one pair at a time."

Green Fork of the Trident

"Cregan, may I ask you what your plan is after we have defeated the kinslayer and his army?" Robard asked Cregan as they sat around a table with mugs of ale while it rained outside. Tomorrow would be the day of the battle and Robard would be lying if he didn't feel nervous, it was his first real battle and the same could be said for Cregan yet he seemed calm.

Cregan turned to him and took a swig of ale before saying, "Once the Usurper's northern army is destroyed, he will be forced to call up his other armies from the West and the South leaving the Westerlands exposed to the Ironborn and the Stromlands exposed to the Dornish. While we will withdraw back to Moat Cailin with either the kinslayer dead or in our chains which means that Vhagar will no longer be a problem. Lady Sabitha has already made preparations to move her family and household to Winterfell under my protection until we regain the Twins."

Cregan continued after another swig, "Once the real bite of winter approaches which it soon will, the Usurper will be forced to make a truce until spring and that will give us time. Time for King Joffrey's dragon to grow larger and for Lord Manderly who is building a fleet as we speak. I have already begun correspondence with Prince Qoren Martell, he and the other Dornish look upon the Usurper's annexation of the Stormlands with fear. Once Vhagar's rider has been dealt with, the Dornish raiders will ride forth into the Stormlands drawing away further attention from King's Landing."

"Once spring comes, the Usurper will march on the North and we will deal with the Usurper's armies the same way the Dornish did with the Conqueror. Provided they manage to cross the Neck, they will find an inhospitable land that will cause their armies to wither away in the cold."

"What about the dragons? The Usurper and his Queen have battle-ready dragons?" Robard then asked as they received a messenger from Lady Sabitha telling them that her forces were ready.

"The Usurper's Queen will remain in the South to deal with the Dornish and to keep the peace if she has the fortitude for it that is, which means that the Usurper will fly to the North alone. Prince Aegon has begun flying upon his dragon, when the time of reckoning arrives, I should hope that King Joffrey and Prince Aegon together will be able to take down the Usurper."

"There is a lot of ifs and buts and a whole arse load of hope in things out of our hands in this plan," Robard remarked taking a swig.

"I am well aware yet I find myself having no choice, I swore a vow to Prince Jacaerys and I intend to keep it. I will either help his brother gain the Iron Throne or die trying, no matter what happens," Cregan replied with conviction.

"Well, I am with you as will be any other self-respecting Northerner except for the Boltons and maybe the Karstarks and Ryswells. Good thing that they are all dead now eh? Gods forbid but let us say that King Joffrey and Prince Aegon fail in their task of killing the Usurper's dragon who will undoubtedly have grown much bigger in that same time. What then?" Robard then asked as he finished his ale.

Cregan did not answer for a minute before saying, "Let it not be said that we, Northmen were oathbreakers and turncloaks. I will deal with that when it happens."

The Next Day

"We are ready, My Prince," Byrndon said to Prince Aemond as their army assembled for battle. They were in the front of their army as Aemond sought to lead the army from the front to make a different impression from the King who preferred to lead armies from the rear when not using his dragon.

Byrndon noticed with distaste as Jon Roxton, Byron Swann, and Victor Risley surrounded Aemond and had his ear as they flattered him. Byrndon had advised Aemond to keep a third of their men in the reserve should Stark pull off some sort of stratagem against them but Aemond after being advised by his new sycophants decided to pull in more men from their reserves into the main lines to the point that their reserves comprised only a tenth of their army. The wind was blowing to their faces which meant that the Northern archers would have the advantage, despite having greater numbers it seemed that they were lacking in everything else.

The Starks had arranged their men in an outward bulge, there was some ploy at work, Byrndon was sure of it but Aemond was certain that their numbers would win the day. There was no going back now, no matter what happened. Bryndon hefted his longaxe and trotted over to Ser Tyler Norcross.

"This is it, my Lords, the day we end this war for good," Aemond announced before dismounting his black destrier in his black and golden armour and sending the horse away, Byrndon and the others did the same to show their men that they would stand and fight till the end, "There will be no mercy, no quarter given and no prisoners taken."

Aemond unsheathed his sword and raised it high before slicing it down, "ADVANCE." The trumpets blared and the drums began to beat as the soldiers began their march.

Slowly and steadily, the men marched in pace with the beating of the drums. As they grew closer, Byrndon grew even more apprehensive, there was no sight of the Northern cavalry which boded ill for him. The ground was wet and muddy due to last night's rain, not ideal for horsemen perhaps that is why there were no horsemen to be seen. The Green Fork to their left was overflowing which constricted their left flank further.

As the Northern lines came ever closer, Byrndon closed the visor of his helm and it was not a moment too soon for the Northmen archers immediately took advantage of the strong winds as he heard the whistling of the arrows up above and the sky darkened under the hail of arrows. They were outside the normal range of a longbow but the winds undoubtedly increased their range as the northern arrows plunged deep into their masses.

As soon as the arrows hit, cries began to ring out as men fell. Shields were raised while those with proper armour like Byrndon bore through the hail of arrows. A hedge knight in front of Byrndon cried out in pain as a lucky arrow found its mark right on his eye, the man was dead before he hit the ground and Byrndon spared him no thought as they walked over him and that man was not the only one as many other soldiers fell in pain whenever the arrows found their mark while others weathered through it.

The arrows felt like pinpricks to Byrndon yet the near continuous volleys of arrows were becoming more than a nuisance for him while it was causing chaos and confusion in the ranks, "KEEP ADVANCING," Byrndon roared once he saw the pace of the march slowing down. "DON'T LET A BUNCH OF ARROWS STOP YOU."

As the army began to regain its pace, the volley of arrows stopped and the screams, taunts and warcries from the Northmen began to reach them before their men began to taunt the Northmen in return. Then once the lines were no more than forty feet apart, Byrndon roared, "CHARGE,"

The two lines slammed into each other enthusiastically and violently with Byrndon at the forefront of the furious and hard-fought, close-quarter hand-to-hand combat. A Northman swung his sword at Byrndon only for it to bounce off Byrndon's pauldron before Byrndon buried his axe into the man's face. Byrndon didn't have a chance to give the man a second look before the next Northman took his attention.

The Northmen fought fanatically but their true men did not falter as they kept pressing on. A huge Northman dressed in furs and rags armed with an axe came in front of Byrndon. "COME TO DIE, LITTLE SOUTHRON FLOWER," The man bellowed as he advanced toward him fearlessly. Byrndon had to admire the man's courage and foolishness to attack a fully armoured knight.

"Try your luck, you savage," Byrndon returned before he swung his axe at the man who dodged the blow before returning one of his own. Byrndon narrowly dodged that strike before he struck back at the man's head, his half helm flew but the man was undaunted as he kept attacking. This time Byrndon sidestepped the attack before returning one into the man's chest. The ribs cracked as the axehead cut into his lungs and the Northman spat out blood as Byrndon withdrew his axe before giving the final blow to his neck.

Byrndon looked around to see the bloody melee that delved all around him, the slippery ground was now covered in blood, slaughter, and dead bodies as the slippery corpses of the fallen began to make heaps. The better weapons and equipment of their army along with their superior organization made the difference as the northern line began to be pushed back inch by inch. It was only a matter of time before they broke.

Swords stabbed and thrust, spears darted, arrows flew overhead and through it all they kept pushing forward and forward. Men screamed and died as swords and spears found their mark, as axes and maces bashed in heads. The song of steel on steel was very present across the battlefield.

"FIRE AND BLOOD, FIRE AND BLOOD, FIRE AND BLOOD," The soldiers chanted as they kept pushing forward.

A Northman tried to attack Byrndon but he slipped on the blood and gore on the ground before reaching him leaving him open and helpless. Byrndon buried his axe into the man's groin causing him to scream in pain before Byrndon ended his suffering. The tide of battle began to carry Byrndon further in as the Northmen were pushed further and further back.

Byrndon soon found Aemond cutting down Northmen one after another, the gold of his armour was now red with blood as he drove his sword into the head of a Northman. Aemond then called out to Byrndon upon seeing him, "SER BRYNDON, THE NORTHMEN ARE ON THE RUN, SEND IN THE RESERVE."

"KEEP GOING FORWARD MEN, VICTORY IS AT HAND," Aemond screamed to rally the men before throwing himself further into the fight and Byrndon soon followed him. Their numbers began to tell as more and more began to push forward and the Northmen were being pushed back.

Then suddenly Byrndon was tackled to the ground by a man wearing the surcoat of an iron fist while his axe fell out of his hands, Byrndon quickly got back up and punched the man in the face before driving his roundel into the man's eye. As Byrndon reached forward to grab his axe he looked around the field to see that in their haste to break through the lines of the Northmen, their army had lost its cohesion and discipline.

Byrndon quickly ran over to Aemond who was still leading the push forward. For some reason, he had lost his helm and his face and hair were caked in mud and blood. Bryndon screamed through the din of the battle, "WE NEED TO PULL BACK."

"PULL BACK? WHEN WE ARE ON THE CUSP OF VICTORY," Aemond yelled back.

"WE NEED TO GET THE MEN BACK INTO LINES BEFORE A COUNTERATTACK BREAKS OUR ARMY APART," Byrndon shouted.

"WITHIN A FEW MINUTES, THE NORTHMEN WILL BREAK, THERE WON'T BE A COUNTERATTACK."

"MY PRINCE, MY PRINCE," Ser Tyler Norcross came running over with an arrow sticking out in his shoulder, "THE FREYS HAVE OUTFLANKED US, OUR RIGHT FLANK IS ABOUT TO BREAK."

"WHAT HOW?" Aemond asked with his eyes blown wide open and the same could be said about Byrndon, he knew all along something was wrong.

"THAT BLOODY CRESCENT FORMATION OF THEIRS, THEY HID THEIR FLANKS FROM US AND THIS RETREAT HAS BEEN A FEINT TO SUCK US IN," Byrndon replied with mounting horror.

Victor Risley came rushing in from the left flank, "MY PRINCE, OUR LEFT FLANK HAS BEEN ATTACKED, THE FREYS PUSHING US IN. LORD BYRON HAS BEEN SLAIN."

"WE NEED TO PULL BACK AND RALLY OUR MEN," Bryndon grabbed Aemond and shook him, "WE HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED ON THREE SIDES."

Aemond shook his head, "NO IF WE PUSH FORWARD WE WILL BE ABLE TO BREAK THROUGH THEIR LINES. WE CAN BREAK THEIR CENTER AND ROUT THE NORTHMEN AND CUT THROUGH THEIR LINES AND THEN ENVELOPE THE FREYS ON OUR FLANKS."

"WHAT?" Bryndon couldn't believe what he was hearing, "OUR FLANKS WILL BREAK BEFORE THAT."

"IF WE PULL BACK NOW WE RISK OUR ARMY GETTING ROUTED," Aemond hotly replied.

"OUR ARMY IS BEING ROUTED AS WE SPEAK," Bryndon screamed as his voice became hoarse.

"MY PRINCE, LOOK," Jon Roxton finally arrived from who knows where he was pointing at the front and when Bryndon looked at where he was pointing he found his heart jumping into his throat.

"Oh fuck," Tyler quietly muttered as they took sight of the reformed northern lines ready for the counterattack. While the Freys attacked their flanks the attack on the centre stalled and while they were arguing on what to do, the Northmen reformed their lines and made a shield wall. The man in front of them leading them was undoubtedly Cregan Stark. If the direwolf on the man's gorget was not enough, the massive Valyrian steel greatsword in his hands was a clear sign of who he was.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, we need to pull back now," Bryndon grabbed Aemond by his pauldrons and shook him, "WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW."

"I am not going back to my brother and tell him that I lost him his entire northern army," Aemond replied and for the first time, Bryndon could see fear creeping into the one remaining eye of the Prince.

"YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO GO BACK TO YOUR BROTHER AT ALL IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF HERE THIS INSTANT," Bryndon hoarsely replied but he was cut short when more war horns began to be sounded from the south.

"Has the King arrived to save us?" Victor Risley cried out with relief.

"Those are not trumpets, they are war horns, only Northern armies use warhorns," Tyler replied with terror writ on his face and Bryndon understood what had happened. They were now dead men.

Even through the din of the battle, Bryndon and the others could hear the unmistakable sound of hooves rushing at them as the panic in their army grew one man screamed, "THE NORTHERN HORSEMEN HAVE ATTACKED US FROM THE REAR."

And that was when the army broke but they had nowhere to run, the panicked soldiers did not have a chance before the horsemen cut through them like a knife cutting through butter. Bryndon caught sight of the Northern horsemen cutting their way through smashing everything away with their axes and maces.

"WE NEED TO BREAK OUT," Bryndon commanded them, "TO THE LEFT FLANK, THE FREYS CANNOT HAVE COMPLETELY CLOSED OFF THAT SIDE DUE TO THE RIVER."

But before they could run, a shout came from the centre and Bryndon turned to look and found Cregan Stark advancing with his men who shouted, "WINTER IS COMING." The Northmen then charged into the broken lines of their soldiers as an unstoppable wave that killed everything and everyone in the path. Their advance was brought to an abrupt halt while the Northerners began theirs.

Jon Roxton raised his bloody sword the Orphan-Maker and charged straight at Cregan Stark, "DIE, NORTHERN SCUM." The Northern lord merely parried his blow and countered with a strike that sent Bold Jon Roxton's head flying.

"EVERYBODY RUN," Somebody shouted from the back as the army became a terrified horde that desperately tried to break out only to find themselves hemmed in on all sides. A pandemonium began that swept across the entire army. Their army was now enclosed in a pocket of death with no means of escape. The Northmen created a wall as they began to massacre Bryndon's men, the outer ranks were cut down and the survivors were forced to huddle in the centre.

A stampede began as the noose began to tighten around them, their forces began to die in droves, and they began to trample and run over the dead and the dying on the ground as they were squeezed to the point of being unable to move. They were unable to even lift their swords as the slaughter began on all sides. Bryndon sighed as he looked around to see the slaughter before his eyes. Some soldiers were killing themselves to end their suffering while others were being crushed to death. They were trapped like cattle about to be slaughtered and all were fated to meet the Stranger.

"LET'S GO BEFORE WE ARE CRUSHED IN THE STAMPEDE," Bryndon shouted as he pushed and dragged a non-responsive Aemond away from the path of the incoming Northerners as he and the others began to cut their way out of the trap. They had to resort to cutting down their own men but they had no choice. Victor Risley was speared down by a Northern foot soldier as he fled with them.

At any other time, Bryndon would have rejoiced that all those who goaded Aemond into this fight were dead but now, Bryndon found himself with the task of saving Aemond escaping the Stranger's noose. The battle all around them was now carnage with the Northerners in a mad frenzy beginning a slaughter that would never end. No matter if a man yielded he was still cut down.

Bryndon was left alone with Tyler and Aemond as they tried to make their way to the river but the fighting on the left delved into a greater massacre as many thousands tried to escape through the river. Bryndon was lucky that this surcoat was torn in the fighting and nobody could recognize a muddied and bloodied prince. Soon the chaos of the battlefield spilled into the river bank as their men began to cut their way through the hard-pressed Freys who quickly pulled back leaving the river bank open for them.

Bryndon felt water at his feet, he could see men in armour drown while those without armour tried to swim across. Bryndon drew out his dagger and began to cut open the straps of his armour, "Quick, we need to get rid of our armour so that we can swim over to the other side."

As they began to remove their armour, the stampede moved over to them as the Northerners began to hem them in from three sides. "Quick, we need to make our way into open water."

"I cannot leave," Aemond then finally found his voice and Bryndon found himself at his wits end with this Prince. "I cannot leave my men, I would rather die in glory than live in disgrace."

"There is no glory in this death, there is no glory in dying like whipped dogs," Bryndon said as he tried to drag a resisting Aemond into the river.

"I let my pride get the better of me, I should have waited for my brother, I should have listened to you," Aemond said in a daze before Bryndon had to grab him once more. "I deserve to die in this fucking river."

"Do not say that, never say that. You did what you thought was right and I too would have never imagined something like this happening. Look, the most important thing right now is revenge. We need to live to gain our revenge and next time you will go with Vhagar to Winterfell and destroy that fucking castle for your vengeance at this battle."

"That's right," Tyler joined, "They want you to die or worse, they want to capture you so that Vhagar can no longer be ridden into war."

"Yes, yes, yes," Bryndon frantically said as he began to push a more responsive Aemond into the river, "Let us go now."

Suddenly, even with the sound of the pandemonium at the river, Bryndon could hear the twang of the bowstring and the whistling of arrows up into the air, Bryndon looked up in terror to see a hail of arrows darken the sky for an everlasting minute before they fell upon them with punishing vengeance. This time there was no armour to protect them.