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Standing upon the balcony overlooking the Sunset Sea, Tywin Lannister had the rare opportunity to simply stand back and enjoy the sight before him and the peace it brought with it. As he stood watching, a slim pair of arms encircled him from behind, drawing a smile from him as he felt Joanna's breasts press into his back as her lips nipped his neck. "With the way you were last night, my love, we shall have another young cub joining us soon."
Turning, Tywin took in the sight of his love. She hadn't aged a day since he married her. "The more lions we have, the better," Tywin grinned, kissing his wife and feeling the joy flowing through the simple act. How long had it been since he'd kissed her? No…that wasn't right. He'd kissed her every day they'd been together. Until they weren't. But yet…they had never separated. Had they? Something…wasn't right here. But what?
Pulling back, Joanna gave him a coy smile and beckoned towards him. "Come. Let us view the legacy of House Lannister."
Any feeling of wrongness disappeared under the light of her smile. Taking her hand, he allowed her to lead him out of his chambers…and into a scene of absolute debauchery. Half-dressed men in Lannister colors were chasing around undressed whores, oftentimes catching them and fornicating right in the middle of the hall. One whore even went so far as run into him before laughing and running off.
"Oh, leave her be," Joanna laughed, seemingly to take delight in the debauchery happening around them. "Come, I believe Tyrion was in the yard just down the way."
Tywin's rage at what had become of his home was such that he couldn't focus on anything going on around him and was merely a puppet on strings following Joanna down the hall and towards one of the open yards.
"Tyrion!" Joanna called out gaily as they reached the yard. What they found was a writhing pile of naked women in the middle of it with the fountain spraying blood-red wine, like something out of an especially elegant and debauched whorehouse. "Come and greet your father."
Tyrion's mismatched eyes came up from the depths of the wine filled fountain. A drunken grin on his face as the naked dwarf rolled over the edge of the fountain, laughing as he rolled amongst the frolicking whores. "Come, fashter! Joing! Dhese whores knoo wat dhey are doin."
Tywin made half a step forward to teach Tyrion a lesson in proper manners, but Joanna's hold on his hand was like iron and he found he couldn't move. "Not now, Tyrion," Joanna laughed, pulling him further along. "Do make sure you pay those girls handsomely! A Lannister must pay their debts after all! Come, my love. Cersei is just down the hall with your grandchildren."
Their next stop was before one of the counting rooms within the Rock. As Joanna opened the door, Tywin dreaded what he would find, already trying to prepare himself for the worst. But nothing could prepare him for what he saw. Cersei was lounging on a pile of coins under a leaking barrel of wine as some commoner feasted on her cunt while she gulped down the expensive wine like a man dying of thirst. And in the center of the room, bare as the day they were born, was Joffrey and Myrcella. The former thrusting away like mad into a bound and gagged Myrcella who was resting atop another pile of gold.
"Don'tch worry, fashter," Cersei slurred out in a drunken moan. "Joffrey ish making shure Myrschella will carry hish shild. A pure Lannishster shild to shit upon da Iron Throne! A troo lion! Unlike that patheshtic Tommen…Joffrey did usch all proud when he did away wivh dat usheless shild and hod dim mounted. Didn't he, fashter?"
Following her gaze, Tywin found the head of Tommen, stuffed and mounted on the wall like some piece of prized game.
"Come, my love," Joanna called, pulling him away again. "There isso much moreto see of the great Lannister Legacy!"
Coming to the main yard, Tywin found Gregor Clegane, bare chested and covered in blood. Hundreds of men, women, and children were lined up in chains before him. Most he could see were carrying Lannister blood to one degree or another. One by one, those in chains were given to the Mountain, who took their heads in his massive hands and crushed their skulls if they were fortunate. If not, he had a table of instruments of pain covered in blood and guts waiting to be used. And standing just beside the Mountain was his son, Jamie. His prized son was standing still as servants covered him in boiling gold. His son didn't make a sound as the boiling gold covered him, melting his skin away so it could be replaced with House Lannister's most renowned metal.
"Our son will be a golden warrior! Remembered for all time as the golden-haired knight who would only watch!" Joanna laughed merrily. "It's so wonderful…Isn't it, my love? This is your legacy! The legacy of House Lannister!"
Pulling away, Joanna began singing and laughing merrily. As she did, her dress began to darken as blood began pouring out from between her legs. "Long live the legacy of House Lannister! Long live Tywin Lannister! Long live—"
"NOOOOOOOOO!"
Sitting bolt upright, Tywin caught himself screaming his voice hoarse. Shaking and forcing himself to stop screaming, he threw his legs over the edge of his cot and looked around. He wasn't at Casterly Rock. He was in a tent. His command tent. The tent he'd ordered erected atop the hill that'd been reinforced in preparation for the Northern force descending upon them.
Rubbing at his brow, he frowned as he pulled his hand away. His hand was covered in sweat. No, not just his hand. His face and body were soaked in sweat, and his hands were still trembling.
Hearing his tent flap open, Tywin looked up just in time to see his brother Kevan rushing in. "My lord brother," Kevan sighed in relief. "I had just brought a healer. You were screaming in your sleep, and I could not wake you."
Rising from his cot, Tywin felt even more exhausted than he did before going to sleep. Grabbing the pitcher of water, he completely disregarded the cup and proceeded to drink directly from the pitcher itself. The cool water soothing his parched and raw throat. Taking a breath, he could hear more than a few screams of terror coming from the camp. "Are we under attack?"
"No," Kevan answered, seemingly unsure of himself. "At least not by men, my lord, but rather by…dreams. All of the lords and those of notable rank have been experiencing night terrors. Even a number of the men. Very few of them have since gotten any sleep. And most are afraid to go back to sleep even though dawn is still a way's off."
Setting the pitcher down, Tywin remembered something that Nox had said to them before parting. "Sleep well tonight, gentlemen. If you can."
Kevan blinked. "My Lord?"
"The parting words of Lord Nox," Tywin explained. "He is causing these night terrors."
Kevan blinked again. "But…how? And why?"
"Those affected are Lords and Knights, correct?" Tywin explained patiently. "Those who will be leading the battle come morning. Should those men be affected by poor sleep, their ability to lead properly during the battle will be severely diminished. And as for how, I do not know. Even after all these years and with Joy providing us with information on his training methods, we have yet to uncover even a fraction of what that man can do."
Sitting back down on his cot, Tywin wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew that if he did the dreams would plague him yet again. "Deserters?"
"A few."
"I want them flogged come morning," Tywin answered, laying back down. "Till then, tell the men to rest as best as possible. Even if it means dealing with these…terrors. We must be well rested and of clear minds tomorrow when we take the field against Nox."
"As you command, my lord," Kevan nodded before saluting and leaving the tent.
Laying his head back, Tywin closed his eyes, willing himself to avoid any dreams, lest even the most pleasant of ones turn into a terror. 'Well played, Nox. Well played indeed.'
Struggling to get the last straps of his gauntlets in place, Ser Addam Marbrand rushed out of his command tent to a scene of chaos. Men were rushing everywhere trying to collect their arms while the camp followers did what they could to assist those who would be fighting or by trying to get out of the way. And the fact that it was still dark and sunrise was still a long time off did not help matters in the slightest. Turning towards the Twins, Addam sent a quick prayer to the Seven for his friend's protection. He had no idea just what was happening in the Twins. But, given the loud noise that literally shook the ground and sent a hot gust of wind through the cold air, he knew that it was not good for them.
Rushing towards the forefront of the encampment, Addam was pleased to see that at least some men were ready for battle. Not many, perhaps a thousand or so. But these men would give the rest time to get ready and reinforce the Twins to repel these Northern bastards.
"To the Twins!" he shouted, drawing his sword and receiving a chorus of shouts and ringing of steel in response. Cries of 'For the Faith' or House names and words rang out as the men under his command rushed forward on foot towards the Twins.
But as they rushed forward, Addam noticed something…odd. The keep on this side of the river was sealed. The bridge was raised with few to no men on the walls. 'What are those fools thinking?!' he wondered as his army closed half the distance between their encampment and the Twins. 'I ordered that the bridge was to remain lowered and the portcullis to be raised at all times! I swear to the Seven I will have whatever man ordered them sealed drawn and fucking quartered after we repel the Nor—'
His thoughts were ended as the man that'd been running beside him jerked before falling backwards. Addam had only a moment to look behind him, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted the man who fell. An arrow lodged firmly in the split of the man's helmet and piercing through his eye. His mind reeled and immediately jumped to the only conclusion that was feasible.
"Hold the charge!" he shouted, holding up his sword to signal a stop, just in time for multiple arrows to fly from the battlements of the Twins. Some of them found purchase in the weak points of men's armor, while others bounced off of shields or armor. "Form a shield wall!" Thankfully, his men were able to quickly scramble to form a crude shield wall, raising a solid line of wood and steel less than a hundred paces from the moat of the Twins. "Ser Addam!" some lordling, he didn't know who, shouted to him from down the line. "What is happening? Have the Freys betr—ahh!"
Addam cursed as a scorpion bolt cut clean through their shield wall, piercing through shields and armor with ease before burying through the chest of the lordling who'd spoken as well as the man standing directly behind him. There was no denying it now. The Frey's had betrayed them for the North. Some might question why. But the why didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that they had been betrayed. And Ser Jamie and Lord Edmure were trapped between the men of House Frey and the Northern barbarians. 'But if the Frey's truly betrayed us…what the fuck was that noise?'
Another scorpion bolt cutting into their lines ended any thoughts Ser Addam might have had on the noise from earlier as he refocused on the now. "Tell our men to fall back out of range of those scorpions!" he shouted, ducking behind the shield wall as several arrows embedded themselves into the shields of the men in front of him. "Send a runner back to the camp! We need ladders and anything we can use to try and breach the walls of the keep brought forward now!"
Seeing a few men break off and run back to camp, Ser Addam stayed with the shield wall as they made an orderly retreat far enough back to get out of the range of the scorpions that were mounted onto the battlements. 'Stay alive, Ser Jamie,' Ser Addam thought, or rather prayed. 'I won't leave you behind, my friend. I swear it!'
Gasping for breath, Jamie winces as the makeshift bandage is tied tightly to his arm to stem the tide of bleeding. Jamie, much like most of those within the Twins, had been asleep when the gatehouse went up in a plume of fire and debris. It'd taken Jamie all of a few moments to scramble from his bed and see what was left of the gatehouse. It was only as he saw the wreckage of the gate did he remember all too late what he'd forgotten: the black powder. The new 'mining' tool of the North which had now been turned into a weapon that had the destructive capabilities of wildfire with the benefit of being far more stable to transport. And they had just used it to create a breach in the walls of the Twins.
Thankfully he'd been sleeping in his armor, but that mattered little. Their defenders were shaken by what'd just happened and still half asleep. By the time they were even able to mount something of a defense, the Northerners had already swarmed the gatehouse and most of the keep on this side of the river. Now they were stuck in the main hall of the Twins with a bunch of sniveling Frey's and few true knights left as men barricaded the doors with anything that wasn't nailed down while the Northerners battered it from the other side.
Hearing the frantic whispering of praying, Jamie looked over to see a small horde of Frey women kneeling and praying to the gods for safety. 'The gods don't give two fucks about us mortals,' Jamie cursed, ignoring the gaggle of women as he advanced towards the aged Walder Frey, who needed the help of his young grandsons to even move. The old rat looked like he was about to die at any second. If it wasn't for the fact that they were in this fight together and that Jamie needed every strong arm available, he would be tempted to leave the old fuck behind. "What's the word from the far keep? Ser Addam must have brought reinforcements into the keep. We need every able body on this bridge if we're going to have any hope of keeping the Twins in our hands."
Walder looked over towards one of his many spawn and grunted. "Tell him."
The Frey, he didn't know and didn't care which, straightened. "Ser Jamie…There has been no movement on the bridge. Outside of the initial force that was manning the far keep…No man has crossed the bridge. So, Ser Addam is probably still on the far side."
Jamie's first thought was that the Frey's had betrayed them. But he threw that notion out the moment it came to him. If the Frey's truly had betrayed them then the North wouldn't have needed to destroy the gatehouse. Nor would all of the Frey's be cowering like the spineless little creatures they were. The second option was that Ser Addam had betrayed them. But he knew that wasn't the case. He'd known Addam since they were both boys and was perhaps the one man he truly considered a friend. Which left only one possibility.
"The North have claimed the far keep and sealed us in," he stated plainly, hanging his head as realization of the North's plan came to him. They weren't delaying in their attack to prepare siege engines or to gather the black powder. They were delaying the attack to give a smaller force the time they needed to seize the far keep and seal it.
"Impossible!" Walder spat, the old man spasming slightly as drool ran down his chin as he shook off the hands of his far too young wife and grandson. "No army can cross the river without House Frey knowing!"
"No army can cross, yes. But a small force led by one of the Stark boys, the bastard no doubt, could easily cross anywhere the river narrows," Jamie countered bluntly. "Then they waited for night to fall and took the far keep right out from under our noses while we were focused on the mass of Northerners on the opposite side of the river." Looking around he took stock of the men they had left. "Where is Lord Edmure? And Septon Ramsay?" Of the two, he didn't really care about the whereabouts of the Septon. Hells, it would almost be worth this defeat to see that bastard dead, his hands clean of the deed. But he still needed to ask.
"No doubt kissing the feet of those Northern bastards as we speak," one of the Frey's spat. "Never can trust the Tully's. As for the Septon…he never showed. Probably in several pieces by now if the Northerners have gotten their hands on 'em."
Jamie frowned as the pounding on the door intensified. "We cannot stay here. The force that took the far keep will have to have been small to avoid detection, and right now their attention is more than likely focused on repelling Ser Addam. We'll have to arm ourselves, rush the bridge, take the far keep, and make our escape to join up with Ser Addam and the rest of our forces."
"You mean to abandon my castle!" Walder Frey shouted, the old man attempting to stand to look intimidating, only to promptly fall back on his ass.
"Yes, I do," Jamie responded coldly. "The Twins have fallen. We cannot stop the Northerners from taking it. Our only hope now lies in keeping them from fully crossing the river. We will cut through the far keep and join with Ser Addam. Once we are safely away, we will come up with a new strategy. One that will require yours and your family's knowledge as we will have to lay siege to the Twins to take it back." Tearing is gaze away from Walder, he spied the women and children that were gathered. "Leave everything behind. Take only the clothes on your back and arm yourself with whatever weapon you can use. If youfall behind, you will beleft behind. And if that happens, I suggest you surrender immediately and remind the Northerners of the promise that Nox made on Pyke all those years ago to kill anyone who forcibly takes a woman or boy against their will." It wouldn't save any man who fell behind. But he could at least be reasonably sure that no harm would come to any woman or child.
"Bah," Walder spat, glaring at him. "We won't get halfway across the bridge before these cunts are on us!"
"And we will have even less of a chance here, waiting to die," Jamie cut in, glaring at the Lord of the Crossing before stepping forward and standing over the cowering man. "We all know how you insulted both the Starks and the Sorcerer last time they crossed this bridge. And that the only reason Nox didn't kill you right then and there was because there would be no benefit to doing so and killing you and your brood would be too much of an inconvenience for him. But now you are at war with the Starks and Nox. You have two choices right now. Wait here and take your chances with a horde of bloodthirsty north men. Or join the rest of us and make a break for the far side of the river." Leaning back, he turned around and looked at each person, perhaps three dozen women and children and just as many men. Only half of who had any armor on. "Use anything that isn't nailed down to barricade the doors. Those in armor will lead the charge, shields in front. Women and children will be in the middle. Let's move!"
Every remaining table was picked up and piled up against the doors. Candle stands were tilted and wedged between stones on the floor and braced against the door. Silverware and plates were even wedged under the door and around the hinges. Anything and everything that could be done to buy them whatever time they could get to try and cross the bridge. Giving the shuddering door one last look, Jamie led the survivors out of the main hall and towards the path that would lead them to the bridge.
The night was filled with screams of the dying and the sounds of battle as Jamie led them out into the night. While he could clearly see the keep on the far side of the river and the fires of the camp beyond, he saw no movement on the keep itself, and no one on the bridge.
"Let's hope Ser Addam keeps their attention," Jamie silently hoped, as he had forsaken praying for aid during his time serving the Mad King. "Shields to the front! Run as fast as you can. We fuck these Northerners in the ass and cut through!"
The men with him shouted and cheered, pulling out their swords and readying their shields as the most armored amongst them took the lead, moving at a brisk pace out into the open of the night. As they passed a quarter of the way across the bridge, Jamie felt hope rise within him. The barricades in the keep behind them were holding and there was no one emerging from the keep before them to stop them. At the halfway point he felt relief as there was still no opposition to their crossing and still no sign of the Northerners to their rear.
"We're almost there!" Jamie shouted, his breath becoming increasingly labored as he kept up the brisk pace in the middle of the pack. "Get ready to cut through whatever defe—"
His words were lost to the night as a loud screeching roar filled the air along with the heavy flapping of wings. Before he could even think of what was going on the dark night became as bright as day as fire rained down on the bridge in front of them, coating all the men in front of him in a hellish blaze, their screams loud and short as the flames, hotter than any fire Jamie had ever felt before, consumed them.
"Fuck!" he shouted, as did many others as everyone skidded to a frantic halt. Though still confused as to what could have caused the sudden death of his men, Jaime managed to keep himself focused. "Fall back to—"
His words were cut off again as a second wave of fire coated the men-at-arms that were in the rear. Leaving only Jamie and a handful of men-at-arms and dozens of women and children standing between two still burning lines of dead men.
Hearing something heavy fall on the bridge before them accompanied by another screech, Jamies slowly turned his eyes back to the way forward.'No,' he thought desperately, watching the serpentine like body and head walk slowly towards them. The creature's wings spread several times before tucking themselves against the beast's sides. He knew what it was. But his mind was refusing to allow himself to say it. It was impossible! They were all long gone!
"D–D–Dragon!" One of the women behind him screamed out before collapsing to the bridge and wailing in pure terror.
Jamie didn't want to believe it. But the burning corpses around him quickly put to silence any doubts he might've had. Standing before him was a dragon. A young one, given its size, but a dragon nonetheless.
"It's still young, Ser Jamie," Black Walder shouted, the bastard of House Frey staring at the dragon with…excitement. "We kill this thing and then we can have any bitch in the land! Hells! The King will grant us any seat we could wi—"
Black Walder jerked, and Jamie only had the briefest moment to notice the arrow that'd pierced through his eye and out of the back of his head before the bastard of House Frey fell over dead. Turning his attention back down the length of the bridge, he saw two figures slowly approaching the dragon from behind. He'd only met one of them in person a few times. But there was no mistaking who that person before him was. Which meant, by simple logic, he could guess the identity of the other person too. The bastard of Winterfell and his wildling lover, Jon Stark and Ygritte. Yet despite their approach, the dragon did not seem to react to their presence at all. No, wait, it was reacting. As Jon approached the beast, the dragon seemed to lean in towards the bastard. Enough so that Jon could reach out and pat the beast on the head as if it were an obedient dog rather than the most dangerous beast to ever roam the land or soar the sky.
'That's impossible,' Jamie thought as he watched the bastard calmly pat and even scratch at the dragon's scaly head without a care in the world. 'Only the dragon lords of Valyria could control these beasts! And after the Doom the only ones who still possessed the ability to control them were the Targaryens! And they…'
Almost as if a curtain had been lifted, Jamie saw it. At the end of the fall of the Targaryen's, Ned Stark returned from Dorne with two things. His sister's corpse and a baby that he named his own bastard son by an unknown woman. No one could believe that the 'honorable' Ned Stark could have fathered a bastard. But everyone accepted it because there was the other option that was so much more preposterous that no one even entertained the idea of it: that Ned Stark lied. Lied to his friend and brother, Robert. Lied to his foster father, Jon Arryn. And lied to the realm. He didn't return with a bastard. At least not his own. He returned with his sister's bastard. The last remaining son of Rhaegar Targaryen.
"DIE!"
Jamie could only shake his head as one more Frey idiot, he didn't know which nor did he care, decided to push his luck by charging headlong at the White Wolf. Neither the dragon, the woman, nor Jon reacted at the charge until the idiot had gotten within a few paces of them. Then the boy simply swung his hand like he was swatting a fly and the Frey was thrown off his feet, through the night air, over the bridge, and disappeared into the rushing currents below.
Sighing, Jamie squared himself off against the three standing in his way. He had the chance to end two of the greatest assets the North had at their disposal right here and now. He just had to play it right by goading the bastard into thinking he could fight him evenly one-on-one and take him down. Or, at the least, try and buy some time for Ser Addam to break through the keep and bring aid. If it cost him his life… Well, it would be a death that would be remembered. And his father and sister would make sure that the North burned to ash for his death.
"So…bastard," Jamie said, taking a few cautious steps forward with his valyrian steel sword at the ready. "Is it Snow? Or, perhaps, it should be Blackfire?"
"Neither," Jon replied evenly. "Nor is it Targaryen. My name is Jaehaerys Stark."
Jamie ground his teeth at Jon not rising to the bait. "So… Are you going to use your dragon to burn us all alive, like your mad grandfather?"
Jon, no, Jaehaerys, shook his head and sighed. "You are trying to goad me into fighting you one-on-one in the hopes that your skill against my youth would mean that you could kill me. But you needn't waste your words, Ser Jamie. I had every intention of fighting you fairly. Something that I know you have little experience with."
With a cocky smirk, Jamie proudly stepped forward, his sword kept in a mid-guard as he approached. "It's not my fault that no one could measure up to me in terms of skill."
The bastard's blade sprung to life, giving off a white glow that was surprisingly bright yet not bright at all in the dark. "Then let us rectify that, Ser Jamie Lannister."
Keeping his guard strong, Jamie set his feet and slowly moved towards Jon. His fight against Jory Cassel in the Tower of the Hand had shaken him slightly as he feared that his skills had been going soft given that a simple guard captain could put him on the defensive. But that shakiness was short lived after his father knocked the sense back into him and he returned to the yard in earnest. His skills hadn't deteriorated. Jory had just been that good with a blade. Combined with his own, admittedly, foolishly cocky attitude, he'd been put on the defensive. That would not be the case today. He knew the bastard was just as skilled as he. And he would not make the same mistake again by taking the bastard Stark or Targaryen, whatever, lightly.
He didn't have to wait long for the bastard to make the first move. The white blade hummed as it cut through the air quickly looking to pierce his head in a thrust. Jamie deflected the glowing blade with the flat of his blade as he reached towards his belt with his off hand and drew his dagger, looking to stab the bastard in the eye while their blades were locked. His aim was true, and the dagger was heading straight for the bastard's eye. Only to stop as if he'd struck a wall less than a hand's width from Jon's face.
"Nice try," Jon stated flatly as Jamie felt something strike him in the chest, forcing him to take a few steps back as he reeled from whatever in the hells had hit him.
He barely had time to recover and regain his footing before the bastard was on him again. His white blade humming through the air, moving faster than any blade made of steel could. It was only Jamie's skill and armor that kept him alive. He was on the defensive fully and utterly. His blade poised in a mid-guard to prevent any lethal strikes to his person while he allowed other strikes to glance off his armor. 'I can't keep this up!' Jamie thought furiously, his dagger discarded and both hands now on his sword doing everything in his power to keep up with the bastard's attacks. 'Anyone else and they would've grown tired by now! But this boy just keeps coming! And his blade is scorching and even cutting through my armor! I won't be able to keep this pace up for much lon—'
Jamie felt something give way under his heel, and the next he knew the darkened sky was swirling above him as he felt weightless for a moment before his back crashed hard into the stone bridge. Shaking his head to try and clear the spots, he rushed to get up but froze the moment he saw the end of a glowing white blade a mere few finger widths from his nose.'Fuck,' he cursed, staring down the length of the blade into the dark eyes of the Bastard of Winterfell.'Jamie Lannister…killed by a fucking rock.'
Screams came from around him, making him break eyes with Jon and turn to his left. Just in time to witness all the remaining Frey's surrender as northmen surrounded them with bloodied weapons. "Cousin," the unmistakable voice of Robb Stark called from the mass of men. "The keep is ours."
"Good," Jon replied, his blade not leaving Jamie's face. "Send everyone who isn't rounding up prisoners to the far keep and reinforce the few men that are there. We managed to catch the Southerners off guard with our little ploy, but it won't take them long to get siege weapons ready and we need to have a firm hold before they do."
"Yes, your grace," Robb Stark saluted, his fist banging against his chest. "Lord Umber! Lead the men into the far keep and reinforce our men there. Kill any Southern fuck that tries to get in."
Jamie sighed in resignation as the men of the North ran past him and the Frey's on their way to reinforce the keep to prevent Ser Addam from getting to them. 'So, this is it,' he thought, keeping his eyes open and refocusing on the bastard boy. "Well, bastard? What are you waiting for? End it."
Jamie was ready to feel the burning blade pierce through his flesh. His last thoughts were already of his beautiful sister, of holding her in his arms after coupling with her. But the blade never came. Instead, the white blade disappeared in a hiss as several pairs of hands hoisted him off the ground and bound his hands together behind his back.
"You will not die here, Jamie Lannister," the bastard said calmly as he put the hilt of his blade on his belt. "I will not have it said that Ser Jamie Lannister died because he lost his footing during our duel. He is to be always shackled. Hands and ankles connected to a collar on his neck. Put him in the cells for now with the rest of his men. When we head out, he will be with us."
Hanging his head, Jamie realized now that he would not be meeting a warrior's death. But rather be forced to suffer the indignity of life as a prisoner.
Sitting atop his horse in his armor, Tywin Lannister slowly ran his eyes across the line of the Northern infantry that had taken up position well outside the range of his archers. Despite having the night to prepare, the Northerners had done nothing he'd expected. No trenches were dug. No barricades were erected. And nothing to protect them from either archers or cavalry. Nothing. Not even a line of heavy horses. Just infantry with archers standing ready in the front of the formation.
"It seems this sorcerer is less of a commander than you made him out to be, Lord Tywin," Septon Marcus said cheerfully. The man was wearing a completely ludicrous set of shining and heavily jewel-encrusted armor adorned with the Seven-pointed star that didn't even fit him properly. "The Seven will bless us this day and bring an end to the heretics of the North once and for all."
"Do not be so quick to assume victory, Septon Marcus," Lord Renfred Rykker chided the Septon before Tywin had the chance to do so. "The Sorcerer is well known for his tricks. We outnumber him two-to-one. Yet he still arranged his men out in the open with no protection and nothing to hinder a heavy cavalry charge. Only a fool would do such a thing. And while the Sorcerer is many things, a fool is not one of them."
Tywin agreed with Renfred's assessment. Nox was no fool. He was baiting them. But into what? It was clear that Nox had caused the night terrors that ran rampant throughout the camp the night before, a thought that chilled him to the bone. Despite those terrors, Nox had done nothing else yet. No attacks, no traps, no fortifications, nothing. And that gave Tywin more cause for concern than anything.
While most were concerned with the line of Northmen, Tywin's eyes kept being drawn towards the tents just behind their lines. No commander, green or otherwise, would set their camp so close to their lines. And to use such large tents that looked to be able to house nearly two-dozen men or more with room to spare? No, Nox had a plan. And those tents just behind his line had to be part of his plan. But what was within? Trebuchets? Catapults? Scorpions? Some new invention that Nox had yet to unveil? The possibilities were nearly endless, and that uncertainty was what was holding Tywin back from calling for a full charge of their heavy calvary. Only a fool would charge headfirst into this fight. And he was no fool. No, he needed Nox to move from his position. The Sorcerer had something planned. Tywin was sure of it.
"Call for the infantry to advance fifty paces, then form a shield wall," Tywin ordered.
"My lord?" Septon Marcus questioned. "Fifty paces would barely cover any ground. And we are safer upon this hill, are we no—?"
"Which is why Nox will not commit his forces to attack our position," Tywin countered. "We must give Nox a reason to commit his forces to the field. At fifty paces, our men will still be well within the range of our archers while keeping them out of the range of the Northern arrows."
"And it will also give our heavy cavalry a perfect angle at their flanks once they are engaged against the shield wall," Lord Rykker agreed, knocking his fist against his chest piece. "I will see to it that your orders are followed, my lord."
Tywin was about to issue more commands, but his words died on his tongue as a tune drifted to his ears. Frowning, he focused on the noise. A song. A song coming from across the field. The Northmen were…singing?