Frozen Flames: The Saga of the Ice Dragon (Completed)

An hour later, the first of Blackfyre's army appeared at the bottom of the hill. The cavalry arrived first, the five hundred knights from the Golden Company along with some thousand knights from the Houses Florent and Oakheart. Jaehaerys wanted to attack, to crush the invaders as they trickled to the battlefield one by one. The Realm may turn on me if I win in such a manner. I'm in the Reach, I might as well create the legend of my chivalric nature.

The rest of Blackfyre's army arrived in the next hour, setting up camp at the bottom of the hill. He could spot the organized camp of the Golden Company in the middle and the chaotic messes that were the camps of the Oakhearts and the Florents at the flanks.

His decoy army turned out to be two ranks deep, all the whores proudly lining up with shields in their hands to hold their positions the entire night. Some moaning could be heard from the men who would be deprived of their nighttime tumble, but most were willing to sacrifice it in exchange for victory.

He met with his Lords and assigned the battle positions for the coming engagement, giving each man a specific task to accomplish, before he retired to bed.

The annoying sounds of his army's warhorns bothered him for about an hour before he finally fell asleep, hoping fear would keep his enemies awake. That night he dreamt of Margaery and a beautiful little child growing in her womb. He dreamt of a silver-haired boy he'd get to teach about the ways of the Court and the sword, tell him all about the petty Lords of Westeros and how to play them like a fiddle.

Dawn did not wake him that morning, Lucas did. "Your Grace. Your Grace!" He shook him.

"Yes, yes, I'm up," Jaehaerys said as he sat up in his bed.

"Ser Arthur told me to wake you, Your Grace. He says it is time." Adrenalin infused every part of his body and Jaehaerys found himself wide awake in a matter of moments.

"Go fetch my armor, Lucas," he said as he stood up. Dark Sister rested against the edge of his bed, as always.

"I've already brought it, Your Grace." Lucas pointed to the stand carrying his shining white armor.

"Good, good." Jaehaerys blinked a couple of times. "Help me put it on."

Lucas got right down to work, saying, "I've brought you a bite to eat, Your Grace." He glanced at the table where a pitcher of water waited for him along with a bowl of fruit and a dried sausage.

Jaehaerys devoured it, much to Lucas' annoyance, as the boy fought to tie all the straps while Jaehaerys ate. He had Jaehaerys ready for battle in a matter of minutes in spite of his obstacles.

Jae grabbed Dark Sister, strapped it to his waist, and walked out of the tent.

Men were moving toward the front lines in many streams, an ever-growing tidal wave gathering at the edge of the rise. His Kinsguard waited for him outside his tent, a young boy given the honor of handling his horse.

They all bowed. "Your Grace."

"I trust everything's prepared, good Sers?" he asked as he took the reigns from the boy, thanking him with a kind smile.

"It is, Your Grace. The men are in position and our scouts report the enemy troups have been up all night, waiting for an assault," Ser Gerold reported, quick and succinct.

"Excellent," Jaehaerys said as he mounted his horse. "Let us sally forth, then."

His knights nodded, mounted their horses, and followed him to the front lines. None of the men bowed as he passed them on his horse, all of their eyes looking straight ahead at the battle to come. The flower of Reach's nobility had assembled at the edge of the rise, a line of knights four ranks deep.

Jaehaerys rode among them to the front, coming upon a grand view; twenty-something thousand men arrayed at the bottom of the rise, waiting for Jaehaerys to charge down the hill into their embrace. He looked to the right and to the left to find his own force looked no less impressive. Shoulder to shoulder they stood, twenty-five thousand men looking down at the invaders, all manner of banners flapping in the wind.

Lord Tarly commanded his right flank, his elite troops behind him. Lord Fossoway commanded the right while Lord Caswell commanded the reserve. Lord Fossoway had proven himself the most sensible of the two, whereas Lord Caswell could be trusted to do as he's told because Jae had expressly told him when to join the fray. Lord Meadows commanded the center because he would have to do nothing more than command the archers and follow Jaehaerys. 

He would give no speech; these men did not need it. He could see it in their eyes, the way they looked down the hill at the enemy. They smell victory.

"Shall we begin?" he asked of his Kingsguard. Ser Loras, Ser Barristan, Ser Oswell, and Ser Gerold snapped shut their visors and gave him a nod. "Very well." He looked to the herald and nodded. "Sound the charge." He put on his own helm, a simple white visored barbute that did not overly impair his eyesight.

The herald let loose an almighty warhorn. At his right flank, Lord Tarly drew his Valyrian blade and shouted, "Men of the Reach! Charge!"

They began in a slow trot down the hill, almost two thousand knights following Lord Tarly. They slowly gained speed as they approached Blackfyre lines. When they came in range of the longbowmen, mere hundreds of yards away from their enemy, Lord Tarly raised his sword once more. The charge slowed and Lord Tarly wheeled his cavalry around, returning back to their original position. A flight of arrows took flight from Blackfyre lines, but only a select few found their mark.

Jaehaerys' heart pounded in his ears. A disciplined commander such as those from the Golden Company would never fall for it, but an ambitious one like Ser Axel will have a hard time resisting the opportunity to fuck them in the arse.

Lord Tarly had completed his maneuver and began his climb back up the hill.  Come on you ambitious bastard, bite! Just as Jaehaerys thought he failed, a horn sounded from the Blackfyre left flank and the fox banners sprang forth.

Lord Tarly's knights galloped back up the hill with all haste and made to reform. That'll take time.

"Archers," Jaehaerys muttered, his command quickly relayed down the lines. Behind the ranks of mounted knights, four thousand men-at-arms armed with longbows and close-quarter weapons awaited.

"Nock!" he heard Lord Meadows shout. "Draw! Loose!"

He heard the twang of thousands of bows loosed at once and a hail of arrows took to the air. Lord Tarly screamed at his men to reform. The Florents were a few hundred yards away when the first volley hit them.

Arrows fell like rain. Horses reared. Men were unseated only to be trampled by the knights riding up behind them.

"Again," Jaehaerys said, keeping his eye on Tarly.

"Nock! Draw! Loose!" Ser Axel had pulled his entire flank with him. There's got to be a few thousand of them. The lines of horsemen thinned when another volley fell on them. He looked to the right; Tarly still hadn't pulled all his riders into line, but it did not matter. He has to go.

"Sound the charge," he said again and the warhorns blared. The right flank burst forth as the third volley fell on the attackers. At the same time, five hundred riders burst from the treeline led by Ser Arthur, headed straight for Florent's exposed right flank.

Lord Tarly hit them first and the two forces met with an explosion of screams. Jaehaerys saw a Florent knight launched from his saddle. Lord Tarly in the thick of it, his blade already running red with blood. Lances breaking, riderless horses galloping away from the chaos, men pulled off horses only to continue the fight on foot. One moment they were the picture of order and chivalry, the next a vision of chaos and savagery.

The Florents were so preoccupied with Tarly, they did not notice Ser Arthur and his knights until they smashed into their flank. Slowly, they began to push them towards the river. Jaehaerys turned his eyes to the bottom of the rise. Go on, Blackfyre, hurry to help.

Blackfyre had to do it or risk losing his entire flank at little cost to Jaehaerys. The horn he'd waited for sounded. The Blackfyre forces moved forth en masse, marching up the hill, the cavalry breaking into a charge early to rush to the aid of the Florents.

But Florents were already breaking. He saw the first man run away from the giant melee taking place at the edge of the river, then another, and another.

Ser Arthur and Lord Tarly will regroup after they break, and crush their infantry. Jaehaerys knew it. But for that to happen, I have to keep Blackfyre busy.

"Prepare to charge," he said, closing his own helm, and adjusting his grip on the lance. They were headed toward victory, but in the jumbled mess of open battle, anything could happen. Stray arrows kill commanders every day. He muttered a quick prayer to the Old Gods and the New. All I have to do is survive.

"Prepare to charge!" Lord Meadows screamed at his back. Jaehaerys shifted in his saddle, his heart pumping so quickly he feared he might faint.

Keeping a tight hold of the reins, he raised his lance and shouted, "For Westeros! Advance!" He gave his mount a light kick to get the horse moving. Ser Loras and Ser Barristan rode at his sides, knee to knee, both of them carrying lances, the banner of House Targaryen flapping proudly as they rode.

The walk turned into a trot, the trot into a canter. The gleaming wave of steel and flesh carrying his enemies approached with deadly steadiness, their golden breastplates gleaming in the sun. The grass was still wet from the morning moist and more than once he felt his horse lose his footing. His thighs squeezed the animal beneath him, desperate to keep his balance.

When they were but fifty yards away, he gave one last command. "Lances! Charge!"

He gave his horse a hard kick and then he was flying down the hill, his fears left behind. He ignored the mass of men heading for him, focusing only on the golden knight at the tip of his lance. Then there came a moment, right before the collision, when everything slowed down and he seemed to float on his horse, mid-stride.

He put his lance right through the heart of a knight and his entire body jerked at the impact. He closed his eyes, fully expecting to collide with another rider or get hit by an unseen enemy...

And then he passed through their first two lines, untouched, even as mayhem erupted.

He raised his shield just in time to deflect a lance aimed right at his heart. Instinctually, he drew Dark Sister from its sheath on the saddle and slashed upwards, sewering the knight's arm and coating his own in blood.

Ser Loras and Ser Barristan were nowhere to be found. A knight came screaming at him from the side and he ducked under his swing, the man lost in the mayhem before he had a chance to retaliate.

He wheeled around and charged back into the chaos, cutting off the arm of a knight dueling one of the Fossoway men, and burying Dark Sister in the head of a knight who continued his fight on foot. Blood sprayed across his helm, he tasted it on his lips. He pulled the blade free and faced his next opponent – a huge knight with the leaves of House Oakheart on his shield.

The knight's powerful first swing almost wrenched Dark Sister from his grasp. The knight rained blow after blow down on him, determined to beat Jaehaerys into submission, screaming, "Die!" the entire time. Jae danced in and out with his horse just as Jaime taught him, denying the man a chance for a balanced swing. The knight had to lean forth or to the side to reach Jae, convinced the next swing would put an end to it, only for Jae to maneuver his horse out of the way.

I only need one opening. It came when Jaehaerys deflected a side-swing over his head, twirled his sword to bring it high into the air, and brought it back down on the knight's arm. Dark Sister cleaved through his armor and chainmail.

Jae rode on to find his next challenger as the knight fell from his horse screaming, clutching at the stump of his arm. From atop his horse, he could survey the battlefield and saw his right flank gaining ground against the Florents, pushing them to the breaking point.

He slew two more knights fighting on foot, taking one's arm and opening another's throat to the bone, when arrows came flying out of nowhere. One glanced his helm, making his head ring, two more embedded themselves into his shield and the fourth hit his horse right behind the ear.

He jumped clear of the stirrups and rolled away on the ground, all of his instincts screaming at him to get up. He was defenseless! He grabbed Dark Sister and jumped to his feet. He thanked the Gods for having listened to Lord Tarly – he wore leather boots instead of sabatons. It proved a wise decision when a knight in dark armor came charging at him, only to slip on the blood and gore of the fallen. Jaehaerys did not give him the chance to get up, planting his heel into the man's head, putting an end to the fight with one savage thrust.

He looked around and saw Lord Meadows engaged in a duel. Quickly closing the distance, he put Dark Sister through his opponent's back. Kicking the knight off his sword, he turned to Lord Meadows only to see his face squashed by a morningstar. The knight wielding it swung for him next. Jae ducked under the first blow and lopped the head off the morningstar when he blocked the second one. Then he buried his sword in his chest, kicking the corpse at his next attacker, making the mercenary stumble – he got his throat slashed for his troubles.

But then his head whipped back when a man tackled him from behind and brought him down into the mud, Dark Sister slipping from his grasp. He barely felt the punch to the back of his head, drawing his dagger and stabbing blindly behind him. Squirming in the mud, he earned a cry of pain. He bucked his hips, earned some room, and rolled over, slipping and sliding in the mud as he straddled the man and buried his dagger in his throat.

He frantically looked around to find Dark Sister, spotting it only a few feet away, its golden hilt the only remaining recognizable feature in the dirt. He got up and desperately ran for it. A knight appeared in his path but Jae threw himself at him, dagger first, finding his eye-slit. He crawled over the knight to the Valyrian blade, sighing in relief as his fingers wrapped around its hilt, switching his dagger to his left hand.

Jae staggered to his feet, his next opponent already on him. He deflected his swing with Dark Sister and stabbed at his side with his dagger. Jae's thrust put the knight down on one knee and with his dagger still embedded, Jaehit the man in the face with the hilt of his sword to put him on his back. Dark Sister once more played the role of executioner.

He fought on, losing all track of time. He ceased thinking and focused only on the men before him and how to put them into the ground. All other concerns vanished and a savage part of him emerged. He felt alive as he never had before, to go up against men with everything on the line and emerge victorious over and over again. Dark Sister sang in his hands, caked in blood yet always thirsting for more as he stalked the battlefield like an angel of death in search of his next victim. Too slow, he thought when he side-stepped a thrust and opened the throat of a Florent man-at-arms. Too weak, he thought when a knight of the Golden Company tried to beat him to his knees only to get a sword through his face instead.

He never noticed how the crowd around him thinned and the number of corpses on the ground increased. Never saw how men began to avoid him and he had to look harder and harder for his next opponent. But Jae's arms began to burn and he kept stumbling over corpses, finding fresh horrors every time he looked down.

A man-at-arms came running at him, a club raised high in the air. Jae didn't bother checking the strike, slashing sideways instead, and the man's guts spilled out like eels and he collapsed to his knees. Jae had already shifted his attention to the next man running at him, but this man-at-arms first checked his charge then stopped completely, his eyes going over Jae's shoulder, then to Jae. Seemingly coming to a decision, the man backed up then turned around and started running for it, bowling over one of Jae's knights in the process. But he didn't stop to take advantage – he stumbled to his feet and ran on.

Jae turned around, wanting to see what had scared the man, and nearly got ran over himself, impaling the man who'd crashed into him with Dark Sister. He threw the man-at-arms off him and got back to his feet, falling into a fighting stance, waiting for the next attacker, only to find the battlefield had begun to empty.

Cheers erupted and Jae saw it was his men who held their swords and axes in the air, his men who celebrated a victory Jae did not yet know they'd won.

"Your Grace!" he heard a scream and turned around to find Ser Barristan, caked in blood and gore from head to toe, his unblemished white armor gone. Ser Loras stood next to him, looking much the same. I must look even worse. "It's over!" But the two men positioned themselves on either side of him, swords at the ready, and herded him down the hill toward the village.

That's where Jae found the reason for the flight of the Blackfyre men. Ser Oswell, Ser Arthur, and Lord Tarly, along with an assortment of knights, stood around the corpse of a knight clad in blood-red armor, the black dragon on his chest unmistakeable.

"Is this him?" Jae asked, looking down at the form.

Lord Tarly responded by ripping off the false King's dragon-shaped helm, revealing the face of the Pretender, little more than a boy. His face had kept the expression of horror the boy had died with, his silver hair matted with blood and mud, his throat opened almost to the bone.

"It was Ser Arthur, Your Grace," Ser Loras said, the young knight's eyes shining. "It was Ser Arthur who'd killed him."

The rest of the men looked at Ser Loras with dead eyes and the Knight of Flowers lowered his head and took a step back.

"The Pretender took Ser Gerold with him," Ser Arthur pointed out, nodding to a lifeless form lying no more than five feet from Blackfyre.

Jae's eyes went to the figure of the Old Bull, noticing that even in death he looked massive, formidable. "My condolences, Sers," Jae said.

The knights of the Kingsguard bowed their heads.

Jae had won his first major battle, but watching the dead before him, he did not feel very victorious. What now? he asked himself as he looked around at the thousands of dirty, bloodied, and exhausted men cheering with their swords, axes, and clubs raised.

The songs never mentioned this part. He felt as though he woke from a haze; his eyes roamed across the corpses strewn across the battlefield. How many did I kill?

Lord Tarly had a squire bring his horse and he swung into the saddle, battered and bruised but looking as alert and ready for action as ever. I could force-march this one to the Wall and he'd still keep his posture.

"Your Grace," Lord Tarly said. "We've got thousands of traitors on the run. Permission to pursue them?"

"Aye, Lord Tarly, but focus on capturing rather than killing them. The battle is won, Blackfyre is dead. There's no need for further slaughter." Jaehaerys pulled off his helm and ran a hand through his hair only to learn his mistake – he looked down to find his hands bloody, pieces of bone and flesh sticking to them.

He had to swallow the bile that rose up his throat. It wouldn't do to throw up in front of Tarly.

"Are the men capable? I would imagine they're exhausted," Ser Barristan asked, seemingly diverting Lord Tarly's attention after he noticed how pale his King had become.

"Aye, Ser, but the sight of the enemy fleeing from them got them all the energy they need," Lord Tarly said, showing one of his rare smiles. Born and bred for war, as Lady Olenna put it.

"You go on, Lord Tarly." Jaehaerys nodded to him and the man rode off.

Jaehaerys himself wanted nothing more than to retreat to his tent and scrub his hands for the rest of the day.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said. Jaehaerys looked to him to find him glancing at the men around them and then at the dead Blackfyre boy.

None of them were leaving, even the commanders quietly watching Jaehaerys. What in the world are they waiting for?

Ser Barristan, seeing Jaehaerys was incapable of reason, stepped forth and picked Blackfyre from the hands of the dead boy. With a quick swipe, he cleaned it of blood and mud and approached Jaehaerys. He went down on one knee and held the sword up for Jaehaerys to take.

"For decades, this sword has been wielded by those unworthy of it. Let now, after all this time, the rightful King of Westeros once more wield the sword of the Conqueror." Ser Barristan looked around and shouted, "All hail the King!"

"All hail the King!" his army responded as one.

Jaehaerys sheathed Dark Sister and grabbed Blackfyre with reluctant fingers, lifting it high into the air, the cheers of his men drawing a reluctant smile to his face.

How many did I kill?