Robb stood in the grove of stumps, looking out over the Lannisters army that was approaching. Once again, Tywin had his infantry and archers in the center with his cavalry on the flanks. However, this time Robb could see the dornish cavalry that made up the Lannister right flank. On the opposite flank, the remaining lannister and crownlander cavalry left over from the battle of Harrenhal marched casually by their infantry.
Robb's weary host surrounded the massive hill, preparing as much as possible for a defensive fight. His infantry formed a shield wall at the base of the hill, with rows of stakes and a wide trench set before them to deter any cavalry charge. Standing a little higher up on the hill were Robb's archers.
Lord Blackwood could be seen in the center of ranks of archers, his red armor sticking out amongst the leather-clad warriors. He was surrounded by several raven-cloaked warriors, each wielding a massive longbow. They were the best shots Raventree Hall had to offer, and Robb was lucky to have them.
On either side of the hill were Robb's cavalry. On his right, the Blackfish commanded the riverlander cavalry, six thousand strong, while Garlan commanded the remaining five thousand lancers from the Reach and Stormlands. Robb hoped that each flank would be able to hold, though he was not sure how he was going to be able to win this battle. Their backs were against the wall.
Or hill, as it were.
Robb's men had done a spectacular job with the defenses. Then again, he expected nothing less. Every man under the Stark banner knew that this could potentially be their final battle. The odds were against them, and they were determined to go down with a fight and take as many of the scarlet bastards with them.
Robb was surrounded by his remaining battle guard, who were all mounted. Robb was the only one who wasn't, his horse was nearby being held by Olyvar. Greywind sat at his feet.
The young squire looked fearful at the Lannister host, but in the company of older and more seasoned warriors like Balon Swann and Rolland Storm, he tried not to show it. Robb knew that his squire was still getting over the death of his brother Perwyn, who would help the young man with his sword work every night after dinner.
"Fuck this," Robb muttered, walking over to his horse and hauling himself into the saddle. "Stay here," he ordered his guard before riding down the hill.
Robb's sudden order caught his protectors off guard, but they obeyed him, watching as he rode down the hill, past the archers, and into the massed ranks of his footmen, many of which looked shocked that their king had suddenly appeared.
"Men!" Robb bellowed, a lone rider in a sea of spear and shield. "Listen to me!"
Robb's voice could be clearly heard all the way up the hill, and probably even to his cavalry. No one dared speak, not even the enemy, who could no doubt hear the Young Wolf speaking to his men.
The men around him drew back a little. During the last battle, Robb had stayed back and had controlled the battle from behind the vanguard. Now he was a few meters from the front ranks, looking fearsome in his armor and crown. The direwolf by his side and the wolf-pelt cloak over his shoulders clear reminders of his title.
The Young Wolf.
"We came south to rescue my father! When he died, we fought to avenge him! Those bastards," he cried, drawing his sword and pointing it at the Lannister host, "want me dead! Well if they want my head, then let's see them try and take it! I'm right here!" He roared, standing in his stirrups and opening his arms wide
Robb's words had stirred his men into a frenzy as they realized that their king would be here in the battle line with them. Almost as one, the infantry drew ranks around Robb, forming an impenetrable line of flesh, metal, and leather.
"NO SURRENDER!" Robb bellowed.
"NO SURRENDER! NO SURRENDER! NO SURRENDER!" The men cheered, taking up the chant till it was ringing around the hill, from the infantry to the archers to the cavalry. Every last one of Robb's twenty-eight thousand troops were screaming in defiance. They would not surrender, not to the old lion, and certainly not to Joffrey fucking Baratheon.
Robb was glaring at the enemy when the sound of pounding feet made him look around. Behind him, his guard, all on foot, entered the infantry host and pushed their way in front of Robb, adding yet another wall of armored flesh to the ranks of footmen. They looked out of place, steel-plate armored warriors amongst chain mail and leather.
"You wanted to leave us out of the fun?" Dacey joked, looking up at Robb.
Robb raised an eyebrow. "I ordered you to stay put," he said, though not angry that his friends were beside him.
"The North knows no king but one named Stark," Dacey replied firmly, her words earning a growl of agreement from those around her.
Robb couldn't help but smile fiercely. He strapped his shield to his arm, moving it around to make sure his shoulders and arms were loose for the battle ahead. As always, he wore no helm, just his northern crown.
"Let's give these bastards a fight!" He roared.
Line Break
Tywin
Tywin watched impassively as the Stark boy gave his speech. It was a pretty speech, but it would not help the boy today. Baelish and the Knights of the Vale were close by according to the scouts. The old lion was slightly annoyed. He was looking forward to the challenge of defeating the northern king, but the boy had made it almost too easy. Just like at Harrenhal, Stark and his men would be wiped away by Tywin's allies.
"Send word to Lord Marbrand to advance the front," Tywin ordered.
The messenger hesitated. "M'lord, the stakes and trench?"
Tywin turned his emerald glare on the younger man, who visibly flinched and galloped off to give the order to Marbrand. It was a skill that the old lion had perfected over the years. A look that could make many men think twice before not speaking again.
"Send word to Brax as well," Tywin said, not looking over his shoulder at the cluster of riders. "He's not to hold anything back."
"The Stark boy has dug in," Banefort grumbled.
"Were you expecting anything different?" Tywin asked, glancing at his bannerman.
The older man shook his head. "No, but it is surprising, is it not, the lengths he's gone."
Tywin scowled. "It will not keep him safe for long. Once Kevan or Oberyn break the boy's flanks, they will sweep in and encircle the boy."
The two westermen watched as the infantry, a great block of red and gold, trooped forward as the archers rained arrows down on the enemy. But just like Harrenhal, the men of the Stormlands seemed unaffected, simply raising their shields and creating a shell of wood and metal against the deadly rain.
After an hour, horns went up and down the line as footmen began to move forward, keeping their shields up as they transversed the stakes. When they reached the trench, many of the men with spears reversed their grip and hurled them into the packed ranks of the northern army before drawing their swords and leaping across the trench.
More and more lannister warriors leaped over the trench, joining the fray and slowly pushing the enemy back, establishing a firm foothold.
Tywin suppressed a smirk. He would end the Stark boy here and cement his family's legacy as rulers of Westeros.
Line Break
Robb
Robb cursed as the westermen literally threw themselves at his men, jumping over the trench after softening his front with spears and arrows. The Young Wolf had hoped that the enemy would be arrogant and stupid. He was wrong. They were ready to fight and end Robb's reign here and today.
"Hold!" Robb shouted over the sound of battle. "We will not waver! We will not surrender!"
"NO SURRENDER!" His men cried, fighting with renewed fury.
Robb took the time to check his flanks. Tywin had brought his cavalry down on the Blackfish, trying to pull them out of position, but the old knight had a firm command over his men. Tywin was going to have to commit and forcefully move Robb's men if he wanted to encircle the infantry.
On Garlan's flank, Robb wasn't sure what was happening. The dornish cavalry, which outnumbered Garlan's men by almost 2-1 was only lightly engaged with their opponent. Robb didn't know what the purpose was. The dornish commander was trying to pull Garlan out of position, nor was he throwing waves of men at Garlan.
It looked like he was trying to preserve his men.
"Your grace!" Brienne shouted as she threw herself into the enemy that was working towards Robb's position.
Tywin had come up with a plan to attack Robb's position. He had dismounted a company of his knights and forced them to the front lines where they were carving back the less skilled and less armored infantrymen like a hot knife through butter. The plan had worked and there was now a wedge that led directly to the northern king. The only thing keeping them from Robb was his battle guard and his last line of infantry still around him.
Robb mentally kicked himself into action as his sword flashed down, striking at the first enemy he saw, a knight from House Lannister. Claw struck against the man's sword, leaving a deep notch in the blade. Robb struck again, which the man tried to counter with his shield, noticing what the Young Wolf's sword had done to his own.
Claw carved into the shield like it was nothing more than parchment and finally bit into something more solid; the knight's hand.
The man cried out in pain as half of his hand was lopped off, but he didn't feel the pain for long as Robb put his blade through the man's chest, not watching as the man crumpled to the ground, his blood leaking out of his chest and adding to the muddy ground.
Robb continued forward, striking down knights left and right, a single mounted figure in a mass of bodies. Unbeknownst to Robb and his guard, they had formed a wedge of their own and were driving back into the enemy ranks, scattering Tywin's company of knights and rallying Robb's men, who had been close to breaking.
Line Break
Tywin
The old lion scowled as his knights were pushed back. The Stark boy had managed to rally his men, along with a group of very skilled warriors, and around him and had formed their own wedge to counter Tywin. Now the battle was back on even footing.
"We could send another company of knights." Banefort offered.
Tywin shook his head. "Kevan needs them for the Blackfish."
"Have you noticed our other flank?" Banefort asked, staring to the north where the dornish was barely engaged with the enemy. "What the blazes is the man doing?"
"Send word to Prince Oberyn that he is to commit all his forces to routing Tyrell." Tywin barked at a messenger.
"Will he listen?" Banefort asked curiously.
"If he does not, I will have you take over," Tywin answered grimly. "Martell is up to something and I like it not."
"He's our ally," Banefort grumbled. "What the hell could he be up to?"
"I'm no fool Quenten!" Tywin snapped irritably. "The Red Viper is not here to help me. He is here for something else. Keep a close eye on him. If he attempts to retreat, turn the archers on him."
Lord Banefort blanched but nodded. "Aye, my lord."
The older men watched the battle continue. Marbrand's infantry had managed to stop retreating and the two forces were now pressed in a battle of wills as men switched from swords and spears to daggers and fists. It was chaos, but at the center of it all, surrounded by blood-soaked warriors who were cutting down all in their paths, was the Young Wolf himself, dealing death with every swing of his blade.
"Valyrian steel," Tywin muttered, watching as Stark's blade slides through the corner of a shield and into a knight's breastplate. Normal steel was not capable of something like that unless it was wielded by a man like the Mountain.
"My lord?" Banefort asked.
"The Stark boy has a valyrian blade." Tywin hissed.
"I thought Ice was in King's Landing?"
"It is. Ned's Stark head was taken with it." Tywin agreed. "He's gotten his hands on another. He and his protectors need to be taken care of." The old lion looked over his shoulder. "Get me Clegane."
"My lord!" Banefort cried, pointing at the battle. "Stark is down!"
Tywin's head snapped over, watching as the boy's horse reared, a spear sticking out from its chest, and toppled over, bringing the northern king with it. He could be wounded or even killed.
"Get me the Mountain now!" Tywin barked.
Line Break
Robb
Robb landed heavily on the ground that was a cesspit of mud, blood, and bodies. Fortunately, he was only there for a couple of moments before many hands grabbed him by the shoulders and arms and pulled him back to his feet.
"If you go down, my lord, we're well and truly fucked." One man said grimly. He wore northern armor and swung a broadsword in one hand while the other held a shield emblazoned with the symbol of his house; a black tree with a sword in the middle.
House Forrester.
"Lord Gregor?" Robb asked. The man was a little taller than Robb, and more than a few years older. His hair and beard were peppered with silvery-grey, but the Lord of Ironwrath looked just as strong and fierce as ever.
The older lord smiled slightly. "Your grace, I do not believe we have much time to talk," he said, moving past Robb as he engaged two of the enemy, striking both down with devastating speed and power.
Robb brought himself back to reality and stepped up to fight beside the Lord of Ironwrath, the two Northmen striking down any man that dared come across them. Robb's guards, who had lost him briefly when his horse went down, soon found him and closed ranks around their king, fighting shoulder to shoulder.
They fought for what seemed like hours, never allowed respite as the pile of dead mounted in front of them. Robb would say that, at that moment, he had the best fighters in Westeros at his side.
Brienne fought with unstoppable fury and was Robb's constant companion as she cut down anyone that tried to get behind the northern king. Dacey and Smalljon fought back to back, the two northerners fighting with a berserker rage as they hacked and smashed the enemy into oblivion. The rest of Robb's guard, skilled knights one and all, continued to fight and prove that they were not only skilled on the tourney fields but very deadly on the battlefield as well.
Greywind bounded in wherever he could, mauling the enemy. The direwolf was the size of a pony and ten times more deadly. His teeth should crunch armor and take a man's arm off whole.
The Lannister line seemed close to breaking, but then a monstrously tall man stepped forward, his massive chest heaving under the largest set of plate-armor that Robb had ever seen. His sword was nearly the height of Robb himself, and the man wielded it with one hand while the other held an alarmingly thick shield in the other.
It was painted with the three black dogs on a field of yellow of House Clegane.
Tywin had sent the Mountain after Robb.
The giant simply bellowed and swung his sword at Robb, picking out the northern king through the slits in his helm.
Robb jumped back, just barely avoiding the enormous blade as it passed through where he had just been standing. Now his guard joined the fight, ganging up on the terrifying knight.
Rolland Storm and Balon Storm encircled the man, shouting at him, trying to get his attention, attacking him from the sides while Brienne took on the monstrous man head-on. The 'Beauty of Tarth' was by no means a small woman, but she looked diminutive compared to the man.
Brienne was smart and did not try to battle the man strength for strength. She seemed to dance on her feet, looking almost like she was ready to jump as she evaded the gigantic blade, attacking where she could.
The Mountain grunted, his breathing labored as he attacked. The man almost seemed to be swaying where he stood. Brienne noticed this and tried to move around more, luring the beastly man away from Robb.
The northern king grunted as he forced himself forward, sliding past Ser Balon and burying his sword in the back of the giant's knee, putting all his strength into the strike. Gregor Clegane was decked almost head to toe in steel-armor, reinforced with boiled leather and chainmail, but the back of his knee was a weak point that Robb had exploited.
The knight bellowed in pain as he dropped to one knee, almost trying to will himself back up so that he could continue the fight, but he had no chance. Ser Balon stepped forward and swung his morningstar and rained blow after blow into the Mountain's helm, battering the metal into an almost unrecognizable shape until the knight fell over unconscious.
Line Break
Tywin
Impossible. Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, his mad dog, had just been defeated. If Tywin hadn't seen it in person, then he would have had the messenger's tongue cut out just for saying such a thing. Clegane was a nigh-invincible beast that Tywin kept a leash on at all times.
He should never have been defeated.
It was the Stark boy and his protectors. That damn and blasted group of warriors that had been fighting on the front lines and had kept the tide from turning in Tywin's favor. While three of the fighters had distracted Clegane, the Stark boy had stepped forward and shoved his valyrian steel blade into the Mountain's knee, crippling the knight while others had worked to knock him unconscious.
Now his front line was slowly edging away from the fight as they saw their best warrior be bested.
"Send in the reserves." Tywin barked at a messenger, who nodded and galloped off in the face of his lord's fury.
Tywin looked to the right and held in a roar of fury. The dornish cavalry had deserted him and now the tyrell cavalry was pulling back. Tywin knew what they were doing. The Tyrell commander would pull his men around the hill and hit Kevan's cavalry while they were firmly engaged with the Blackfish.
The Lion of Casterly Rock swore then and there that he would see Oberyn Martell killed for his cowardice and Sunspear burnt to a crisp.
A Lannister always pays his debts.
"M'lord, look!" Someone shouted, forcing Tywin to look further north.
Thousand of mounted men were cantering forward, their armor and lances gleaming in the sunlight. Their banners snapped in the wind, depicting runes, red forts, broken wheels, and so many more. Most prominent among them was the falcon and the moon.
The sigil of House Arryn.
Baelish. Good. The Knights of the Vale would sweep away Stark's army, just as the dornish had done at Harrenhal.
Horns sounded from the valemen as they began to charge, lowering their lances and bellowing their war cries. Armored in steel-plate on massive chargers, the Knights of the Vale were a fearsome sight to behold and hit their enemy like an unstoppable wave of steel and death.
That wave slammed into Tywin's infantry and didn't even seem to slow down as they mowed down the red-clad men. It was almost despicable how easily the knights were cutting through the westernmen.
Like a scythe through wheat.
"Sound the general retreat." Tywin gritted out, turning his horse around.
"My lord, what about our men?" One of Tywin's knights asked stupidly.
The old lord backhanded the man. "We retreat to King's Landing," Tywin repeated before riding off, anger radiating off of him.
Line Break
Robb
Like an unstoppable wave, steel-clad riders appeared from Robb's left and stormed over the entire Lannister line, the massive warhorses rag dolling footmen aside while their riders skewered anyone in sight.
Robb lifted his sword and cheered as he watched the Lannister force be swept aside, their lines crumbling under the onslaught of riders. His men followed suit, enjoying the sight of their enemy being slaughtered. They remembered how the dornish cavalry had swept many of their friends and comrades into the God's Eye, and they were elated to see tables turned on the lannisters.
"Your grace," Brienne said, pointing her sword towards the right flank.
The Lannister cavalry was retreating as well. Garlan had wheeled his force around the hill and had pinched the Lannister host between himself and the Blackfish, the two stark forces combining to push back the now shattered and broken Lannister knights.
"We've won," Robb said tiredly, planting Claw point down in the mud, leaning over slightly as he took a deep breath.
"Don't put your blade down just yet, your grace," someone called fiercely.
As the Knights of the Vale continued to drive the Lannister host away, now helped by Garlan and the Blackfish, two riders trotted forward. The man who had spoken was a massive warrior wearing bronze armor engraved with runes. His helm was open, revealing an older, grey-haired man.
But Yohn Royce, otherwise known as 'Bronze' Yohn for the armor he wore, carried himself like a man half his age. The lord of Runestone was a man Robb's father had always spoken about with the highest respect, the two becoming close friends when Ned Stark was a ward for Jon Arryn. Robb Stark vaguely remembered meeting the man when he came north to take his son to Castle Black.
Robb had thought that the man was the biggest man he had ever met, and the feeling still remained. The only man who could compare was the Greatjon.
The second man was far younger than the vale lord. He was a tall, muscular, sandy-haired youth who wore a sigil that confused Robb. On parts of the tabard, there was the falcon of House Arryn. On others, it was a sigil that he had never seen before. But the young man looked pleasant enough.
Robb had never met the late Jon Arryn, but according to Maester Luwin, the Arryn's usually had blonde hair and clear blue eyes. The young warrior certainly matched the description, the only Arryn boy that Robb knew about his cousin Robin, his Aunt Lysa's son.
Robb nodded slightly. "Lord Yohn Royce, I have never been happier to see another man in my life."
The two men dismounted and kneeled in the mud before Robb. "Your grace, please forgive us for taking so long to act." The younger man apologized.
Robb raised an eyebrow. "I am sorry ser, but I do not know who you are?"
"I am Harrold Arryn, once Harrold Hardyng." The young man explained. "Grandson to Jon Arryn's sister and now Lord of the Vale."
Robb nodded slowly. "I see. Well, I am greatly pleased to see you both. Your timing is impeccable. Please, rise."
The two men stood. "Your grace, we have brought ten thousand riders with us while the rest of our host, twenty thousand strong, marches to take Harrenhal, cutting Tywin off from finding sanctuary in the ruins," Yohn said strongly.
Robb smiled. "That is excellent news, my lords," Robb said, planting Claw more firmly into the ground and stepping forward, grasping arms with Harrold and then Yohn. "We will regather ourselves here for the time before marching on to join our new allies at Harrenhal," Robb instructed. "Then we march on King's Landing and Joffrey."
Line Break
Oberyn
"You did well, Obara." Oberyn praised as he and his host of mounted warriors rode south towards the Stony Sept. They would camp there before heading east toward King's Landing, which would hopefully be in the hands of Oberyn's new friends.
The Dornish prince never traveled much without his daughters, or the Sand Snakes, as they were known in Dorne. While with the men of the Westerlands, he had disguised the three girls he had taken with him as simply cavalrymen, but they were far more dangerous than that. Obara, Oberyn's eldest bastard, wielded a spear nearly as well as he did.
Nearly.
Nymeria, the second eldest, had no less than a dozen daggers hidden on her person and could produce and throw one in seconds. The third and final daughter that Oberyn had brought with him was Tyene, who looked far different from her sisters with her fair skin, blue eyes, and golden hair. Her weapon of choice was poisons.
She had been the one that had poisoned the Mountain the night before the battle.
To protect his daughters during the battle at High Heart, he had dispersed them to the north, east, and south to watch for any reinforcements riding to Stark's aid. Obara, who had been to the north, had been the one to bring word about the knights of the Vale. Oberyn and his men had slipped away when all eyes had been on the Mountain's fight with the northern king and his protectors.
Oberyn would be the first to admit, he was quite annoyed that Tywin had sent his rapist dog against the Stark boy. With the valemen entering the fray, no doubt on the Starks' side, he had been hoping to intercept and cut down Tywin and his men as they treated, capturing the Mountain himself in the process.
Now the beast was in the hands of the Starks.
"I do not feel right running, Father," Obara grumbled. She did not possess the beauty that many of Oberyn's bastards had, but she was by far the most skilled as a warrior.
"We will give the young dragon his time in the sun." Oberyn shrugged. "He and his mentor shall deal with Tywin while his aunt takes the capitol. Everything is still as it should be."
"What about the Stark boy, Father?" Nymeria asked curiously.
"A problem for their graces," Oberyn answered, waving aside his daughter's worry. "The true threat has been eliminated. Robb Stark will be much easier to deal with."
"At the table or the battlefield?" Tyene asked.
"We have dragons, my dear," Oberyn said with a savage smile. "If the boy is smart, he will meet us at the table. If he is stupid, well, we shall do our best to remake the Field of Fire."