Game of Thrones: Winter's Fire

Bloodraven

Daemon Blackfyre was dead, his body was strewn across the ground from Brynden and yet he still could not believe what he was seeing, nor could he truly believe what he had done. Whilst Daemon had been engaged in a fierce duel with Ser Gwayne Corbray of the Kingsguard, Brynden and his Raven's Teeth had climbed up the weeping ridge, and had found a suitable position from which to litter the Blackfyre troops with arrows. It had been pure chance and luck that he had spotted the personal banner of Daemon flying in the wind as he had knocked his bow ready to release the first arrow. He had known that if he could injure or kill Daemon then the rebellion was as good as over, for his brother had only children no grown heirs and no lord in their right mind would fight for a child when there was a grown man with proven military skill waiting to succeed their father as king.

The question had been how to kill Daemon, his brother had been fighting like the warrior in human form, killing all who thought to challenge him, he had cut down Wyl Waynwood and the Knight of Ninestars as well Lord Arryn's heir, and then he had severly wounded Ser Gwayne, but Daemon had always had one weakness, he was too chivalrous. Instead of leaving Ser Gwayne there to rot and die like any other would be king would have done, he insisted on protecting the knight until he could get one of his own men to escort Ser Gwayne to the rear to be seen to. That was where Brynden had found his opportunity, knocking his bow he had fired an arrow, but it had gone too far and instead of striking Daemon it had struck Daemon's son Aegon killing the boy, Brynden had felt some remorse when he had realised what had happened, no child should have to die for their parents sin. But then Daemon had made to move toward his dead son, and so Brynden had taken advantage of the next movement that Daemon had made and had fired off several arrows and had had his Raven's Teeth fire at Daemon. Daemon Blackfyre had died with so many arrows buried deep within his body that Brynden had been surprised he had managed to survive for as long as he had. Then again Daemon had always been stubborn and brave.

Brynden was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of deafening roar. Turning his head he saw a massive army coming towards himself and the Raven's Teeth, looking closer at the men who seemed to be charging at them he realised that it was his other half brother Bittersteel who was leading the charge. "Ravens draw your bows, we have company." He barked. He knocked his bow and fired out arrow after arrow, trying desperately to slow his half brother's advance, he watched as the men fighting for the Blackfyres fell down to the ground, arrows buried in their bodies, their blood adding to the ever growing redness of the field where the battle had been thought. And yet Bittersteel did not stop the charge, no matter that his men were falling all around him, there were Targaryen men still present guarding the ridge where Brynden and his archers stood, and they were cut down by Bittersteel and his men, Bittersteel was fighting like a man possessed showing each and every single skill that he had as a warrior.

Realising that Bittersteel would likely not stop the charge and that unless he did something there would likely be a massive loss of life Brynden drew Dark Sister from its sheath and began stepping down from the ridge calling for his men to do the same. He met the first Blackfyre assailant head on, swinging his sword in a massive arc and bringing it down in one swift motion, cleaving the man's head from his body. He stepped over the man's fallen body and continued on his path toward Bittersteel, his blood was beginning to sing with anticipation. He swung and hacked a bloody path through the remaining Blackfyre soldiers, cleaving maybe three or four soldiers' heads off, cutting of a few hands and arms and maybe a few legs and burying Dark Sister deep within a few soldiers as he went. He paused briefly and looked up to see Bittersteel doing the same, truly fighting like a man possessed, cleaving his way through the Targaryen soldiers still remaining, his sword stained red, the ground stained red and black.

It was Bittersteel who spoke first when they came face to face with weapons in hand for the first time in many, many years. "Kingslayer, traitor." He snarled. "You fought for the wrong side brother, you killed your king, and you killed your brother and your nephew. You are cursed in the eyes of gods and men now." Bittersteel spat into the ground to show his distaste of Brynden.

Brynden said nothing; silence had always been the key to coming out on top when dealing with Bittersteel he had come to realise over the years.

Bittersteel snorted. "Nothing to say brother? Too ashamed to admit what you have done. No matter, when I have killed you, it won't matter. Shiera shall be mine then, and she won't be under whatever foul spell you have put her under." Still Brynden said nothing, though the mention of Shiera had rankled something inside of him, Bittersteel was deluded if he ever thought their sister would ever willingly join him. "Very well if you will not say anything let us settle this with steel." Bittersteel said, the old hint of anger creeping into his voice as he drew his sword.

Brynden drew Dark Sister, and out the corner of his eye noticed how it glistened red in the pale sunlight. He and Bittersteel circled around each other, both men trying to tempt the other into making the first move, the first mistake. Bittersteel had never truly been the most patient of men and therefore it was no surprise that it was he who made the first move, lunging to his left and pushing Brynden back even though he had raised his shield in time to block the blow of Bittersteel's sword. Bittersteel moved away then pulling his sword with him, and their circling continued. The ground was covered with blood, and as such was very slipper and so both men were taking care not to make any sudden movements which of course made it very easy to predict what they were going to do.

This therefore meant that whenever either man moved forward to make a blow, the other man would have enough time to raise their shield or their sword and block the other's strike. Eventually though, both men's shields were broken and tattered and ended up being discarded, and that was when the real battle began. Brynden advanced forward and struck Bittersteel on his left shoulder, denting the armour there. Bittersteel grunted and retaliated by feinting to the left and then bringing his sword sharply up and striking Brynden on his right shoulder, denting the armour so badly that blood began to pour out of the crack that had appeared.

Brynden moved to the side when Bittersteel made to swing again and ended up using Dark Sister to block his half brother's attempt at splitting his ribs, sparks flew from their swords as the sound of steel on steel screeched loudly in the field. They broke contact only for Bittersteel to begin a series of fierce and quick thrusts and jabs at Brynden, some of which struck their mark and dented his armour and opened fresh wounds on his body, others of which struck his sword and caused even more sparks to fly from their swords.

Eventually Brynden managed to find a way to break through Bittersteel's frantic attacks; he moved back when Bittersteel jabbed to Brynden's right causing Bittersteel to wobble slightly due to the force with which he had gone in for the jab. Seizing on the opportunity which had presented itself, Brynden quickly brought Dark Sister up and struck Bittersteel on the face, cutting him and drawing blood. Once Bittersteel had been forced to move back, due to the force of the blow, Brynden advanced forward Dark Sister drawn and began his own attack, swinging and jabbing at his brother with as much grace and forcefulness as even Daemon could have managed. It largely worked, every time Brynden swung his sword he struck true, and either dented Bittersteel's armour or opened a fresh wound on his body, so that by the time he had moved back to catch his breath, not only were they both breathing very, very heavily they were also both stained red with blood and their armour was also dented very heavily in several places, their swords were stained red and the ground was littered with droplets of blood.

And still Bittersteel did not stop, he moved forward with sword raised and hacked once more at Brynden, this time going straight for his head, Brynden managed to duck just in time so that Bittersteel's sword whooshed over his head, and when Bittersteel went to bring his sword back down, Brynden kneed his brother in the stomach winding him, and causing him to drop to his knees. With his brother lying there on his hands and knees, blood pouring from several wounds on his face and person Brynden staggered back, feeling the weight of what he was about to do truly hit him, he had never really liked Bittersteel, but the man was kin, they shared the same father, seven hells even he and Daemon had shared the same father! He drew Dark Sister and raised it high above himself ready to bring the blade down, when Bittersteel spoke.

"Brother," Bittersteel sputtered. "Wait, please brother wait."

Brynden hesitated Dark Sister hovered awkwardly in the air. Bittersteel went on. "I know we have not always got on, and that we have fought for the opposite sides during this war, but before you kill me know this, I have always respected and admired you. Live a good life brother."

Brynden felt something build in his throat, what is was he could not say, but suddenly he felt a strange urge to go and help Bittersteel to his feet so that the man could live for another day, the urge was completely mad. But still he found his feet bringing him to stand before Bittersteel and he found himself stretching out his hand, offering to help his brother up.

He only felt something was off when Bittersteel grabbed his hand, and instead of getting up pulled him down and laughed manically, and drew a small dagger from his person and said "Oh Bloodraven you fool." Then all he felt was pain, a blinding pain as the dagger was plunged into his eye, and then he fell backwards onto the dirt and darkness engulfed him.

In the darkness he dreamed. He dreamed of Shiera, and the warm nights they would spend together in King's Landing making love to one another and talking about what they wanted from the world. He dreamed of his mother, well what little he remembered of his mother, and how she would always sing to him before he went to bed, he also dreamed of his father and the disapproval that always seemed to be there in his eyes whenever he looked at Brynden, as if he was ashamed of having made such an 'abomination'. Then he dreamed of Daemon, his brother, the boy he had been in King's Landing and the games they had played with Daemon's brother Daeron, and how it had been Daemon who had first made him feel accepted for who he was and not what he was, and then Daemon's face when the arrows had pierced his body came floating into his vision and Brynden screamed as he saw his brother's corpse begin to rot and worms and other horrors began to flow out of it. Then there was Daeron, his brother, the one who had made Brynden a man, the one who had always loved and respected him. Brynden dreamt another dream, a more real dream a dream he understood. He saw the smoking ruins of Lannisport after the Ironborn had come and raped and pillaged there, he saw the bodies of the men he had taken with them after the battle with the Ironborn and the rebel Westerlords. He heard the crying and the screams of the dying men and the cries of the women and children as the Ironborn came back with more strength, and inside Brynden Rivers began to sob, he had not been able to save them all, he had failed them.

Then he saw a stunted creature with red eyes, eyes like his, standing in front of a weirwood tree with its hand out, as if asking Brynden to come and join it. "Brynden" the voice seemed to whisper. "Brynden, wake up." The voice whispered, and Brynden wanted to say that he didn't wish to wake up, he was having too strange a dream and if he woke up he would have to face the complexities of real life and he was not sure that he was ready just yet for that. But the voice was insistent.

Four days after the Battle of what would later be called Redgrass Field - for the amount of blood spilt there- Brynden Rivers woke up in a tent and found himself surrounded by the commanders of the Royalist army who had survived the battle, there standing at the foot of his bed was Maekar his face seemed older and more dishevelled, next to him was Lord Jonos Arryn, heavily bandaged as he was the man still cut an imposing figure, and there standing very close to Brynden was Shiera, Brynden had to blink several times to make sure he was not imagining what he was seeing, how had she got here?

It was Maekar who answered that question for him, glaring at Shiera all the while he said. "She came two days ago, apparently Shiera was in the area, we thought you would die so we did not see why she should have the chance to say goodbye." He said no more, and he had no need to, Brynden looked at Shiera and grabbed her hand and held it tightly.

"What happened, did we win?" Brynden managed to ask, his voice a whisper.

Maekar answered once more. "Yes we won. Once the rebels realised their precious Daemon was dead their ranks began to break. They lost many of their key generals, but Bittersteel and Redtusk managed to rally the remainder of their men and led a fierce charge. Redtusk is dead, killed by Ser Roland, but Bittersteel managed to get away once he was done taking your eye out." Maekar paused then, and only then did Brynden think to check and see if what he said was true, and it was there was a gaping hole where his eye had once been, and he remembered the dagger being plunged into his eye, he shuddered involuntarily and Shiera tightened her grip on his hand. Maekar went on. "Bittersteel managed to flee south with some of the Blackfyre's commanders such as Ser Eustace Osgrey and Ser Gormon Peake. Our scouts report that they fled south to their base in the Reach and are even as we speak planning on escaping to Tyrosh. His Grace has ordered that we let them go for the time being."

Brynden did not know why Daeron would order such a thing, but one look from Maekar said that they would speak of it later.

Maekar cleared his throat then and said, "My Lords if you could give me and my uncle and my aunt some private time, there are some family issues we must discuss."

This was greeted by several "Yes Your Grace." As several men whom Brynden had not seen in the tent left it. Once they were all gone Maekar turned and faced Brynden once more, and this time Brynden could see the fear plainly written all over his nephew's face, it was a rare show of emotion for Maekar. "Father ordered that we let Bittersteel and the other Blackfyres flee back to Tyrosh because we have more pressing problems. Aemon Blackfyre managed to escape the battle with Addam Osgrey, Ser Lewyn Ambrose, Ser Alyn Ambrose and Ser Jon Costayne. They are heading north for Winterfell, or Harrenhal if our scouts report correctly, for that is where Daeron Stark is. Stark also holds Baelor prisoner. It looks like this war is far from over."

Cregan Stark

Winter Is Coming, those were the words of their house, and it had come for the south with a vengeance. All the insults done to their family and to the whole of the north by House Targaryen over the years had been paid back, the south had bled. The banners had been called and when the bannermen of Winterfell had arrived at Winterfell, there had been a deep sense of anger and readiness bubbling beneath the surface of all the lords present. Harmond Umber spoke of getting revenge back for "Good Old Lord Willam", Lord Brandon Karstark spoke of teaching the Targaryens a lesson. And throughout the whole time they were in Winterfell planning their battle plans Cregan watched as his elder brother Daeron sat and talked with each of the lords in turn and listened to their advice and their suggestions, and then provided his own suggestions, and Cregan could not help but feel proud of his big brother, the brother with whom he was closest. This war they were fighting was as much about getting justice for the north as it was about putting their brother Daemon on the Iron Throne.

Then had come the time for them to head south, and that was when there had been tearful farewells, their brother Theon only ten and five when they had marched south had been indignant that he was being left behind, had argued fiercely that he was old enough to fight in the war, but Daeron had quailed him with one look, one that reminded Cregan startlingly of their father, and Theon had shut up. Daeron had later confessed to Cregan as they had begun the march south that he had been considering bringing Theon south with them, but that doing so would likely have killed their mother. Cregan could not have agreed more, their mother was already a nervous wreck, what with Daemon already fighting in the south and Daeron and himself marching south also, taking Theon- her baby- with them would more than likely have made her panic beyond belief. All she had said to them both before they had left was that they should return in one piece. That was also what his lady wife Wylla had said to him, her belly heavy with child, their first child, and each time he got up in the morning he prayed to the old gods that he would live to see his child be born.

Before they had reached the Twins they had stopped at their Uncle Artos's home of Moat Cailin where he and his sons- Cregan and Daeron's cousins- Brandon and Benjen greeted them with some 1500 men. Whilst they stayed in Moat Cailin they discussed how to best take the Twins, some of the lords had been in favour of storming the castle and taking it by force, but uncle Artos had argued against that saying that it would be a wasteful tactic and that it would only do damage to their chances of success in the south.

Instead he argued that they should lay siege to the Twins but give terms to Lord Frey, either he surrendered and gave them his men or himself and his whole family would be put to the sword. That was something that Cregan agreed with as did Lord Horras Bolton- the mad lord of the Dreadfort who could have married Jeyne- Daeron after much consideration also agreed with their uncle's suggestions and so after their uncle Beron had joined them with some 1000 men from White Harbour they marched south, and their campaign in the south began.

Of course, Daeron could not let the campaign begin without some theatrics. Cregan's elder brother had put two banners on top of a hill in front of the Twins, one with the Targaryen red dragon on black, and one with the black dragon of Daemon's house on red and had ridden on his warhorse with a flaming torch and had set fire to the Targaryen banner. The message had been clear; the north was fighting to put Daemon on the Iron Throne, nothing more, nothing less. Their uncle Artos had been exasperated by Daeron's display, though as Daeron was acting as Lord of Winterfell when he had done the deed, he could not be openly chastised otherwise that would have undermined his authority in the eyes of his bannermen, however, in private uncle Artos had severely reprimanded Daeron and had said that because of his antics it would be that much harder to get the Twins to peacefully co-operate.

It seemed their uncle had judged correctly. Lord Frey had stubbornly refused to surrender even with the northern host knocking on his doors, he had refused to let them pass and had refused to name his terms. Daeron, growing increasingly frustrated began to plan the sacking of the Twins; Cregan had been preparing himself for his first taste of war, when Lord Frey had ridden out of the Twins with an escort of some 200 men to demand what Daeron intended to do. Daeron had looked ready to strike the man in the face, and Cregan had felt like doing the same, luckily for Lord Frey their uncle Artos had a cooler head on his shoulders and whispered to Daeron the original terms they had decided in Moat Cailin. When Daeron presented these terms to Lord Frey, a strange expression came upon the Lord of the Crossing's face.

To Cregan it looked as if he was trying to decide whether or not Daeron was being serious or not, for the man kept looking at Daeron (whose hand was on Ice for the whole time) and then to the army camped around them. He did this many times before he eventually acquiesced and allowed them to cross, but with one condition Daeron's son Aegor would have to marry one of his daughters when they came of age. In exchange for this, Lord Frey gave them an extra 2000 men and the campaign was off to a bloodless start.

The true fighting began in the land near and on Oldstones castle, the ruin of a old castle of the First Men, where the northern host was attacked by a Riverland army led by Lords Piper, Vance and Mallister. The battle raged long and hard, through the rain and sleet that came with summer, and the warmth of a southern summer startled Cregan and many of the other northmen who had never truly been south of the neck, not Daeron though, no Cregan saw his brother fight through the warmth with little concern cutting men down like he was some sort of vassal of the Old Gods, come to do their work. Daeron had always been an exceptional warrior, Cregan could remember growing up in Winterfell idolising him and their brother Daemon, it was often said that both men were of comparable talents with the sword. Cregan himself did not fare too badly during the battle, he held his own against men twice his age, fighting warriors more experienced than him.

He can still remember the first man he killed though. It was some Mallister boy, who came charging at him with a hammer held high above his head, shouting profanities, the boy had swung his hammer fast and hard, and Cregan had just about managed to bring his longsword up in time to block the hammer swing. They had fought a fierce duel, hammer and sword, until both were worn down from exhaustion and Cregan being the quick handed fighter that he was found an opening between the boy's right shoulder and neck and feinted to the left drawing the boy forward, before he lunged forward and struck true burying his sword deep into the boy's neck. It was not a clean kill, blood spurted from the wound that Cregan had made, and the boy took time dying, his eyes were as wide as saucers and he begged and screamed for relief. His cries still haunted Cregan sometimes at night.

The battle had ended in a northern victory though, with Daeron himself having killed Lord Mallister and his heir, as well as Lord Piper single handed, their uncle Artos killed Lord Vance, and their cousin Brandon killed Lord Vance's heir. The minor riverlords who had marched alongside Lords Piper, Vance and Mallister were either put to the sword or surrendered and became part of Daeron's army. Their next stop was Riverrun, where they had received reports that Baelor Breakspear and a royalist army under his command were camped.

The two forces met in a fierce battle at Whispering Wood. Baelor Breakspear and Lord Edwyn Tully and Lord Blackwood. There was much bloodshed that day and the days that followed Cregan remembered. He remembered that he kept swinging his sword and burying it in soldiers from the Riverlands and those from the Crownlands until well after the sun had set most days. He remembered the screams and the cries of the dying as the bled out in the woods far from their homes and their loved ones, and each time he heard another man die, it made something within him revolt at the idea of ever lifting a sword ever again. Yet each time he looked to Daeron, his brother was still swinging Ice like a man possessed, and Cregan thought to himself that if his brother could do it and not look scathed then so to could he.

It was only after the battle, when the dead had been counted for and their bodies had been buried or given to the flames that Cregan fully saw what this war was doing to his brother. Daeron who was normally so sure of himself in public and never seemed as if anything was fazing him looked shocked at what he had seen and what he had done. His hands shook and his eyes looked scared, as if he was scared of what he was capable of and what he had become. Cregan knew that he was scared of what he himself had become, and he was not the Lord of Winterfell and so could therefore not fully comprehend what this must be like for Daeron.

Though when they were informed that Baelor Breakspear had been captured, it seemed as if the fighting and the nightmares of the aftermath were all worth it. Baelor Breakspear was a great warrior and was one of the best commanders the royalist army had, with him out of the field that gave Daemon the opportunity he needed to take King's Landing once and for all. Cregan did admire Baelor Breakspear though, even when he was brought before Daeron in rags, beaten and bruised, he maintained his dignity and his honour. Even when he was told that he would be kept in a guarded cage he remained dignified, and once all the other bannermen were gone, and it was just Daeron, Cregan and their uncles and cousins, Daeron told Baelor that he did not wish for this, but it had to be done, for Daemon to be successful.

The next day they received word that the Lothstons had betrayed Daemon, and so the northern host had under Daeron's instruction marched east to Harrenhal, where they had put the whole of the Lothston family under arrest within their own homes, Baelor Breakspear was put into a cell, and Daeron began disrupting the supply lines going to the other royalist army commanded by Prince Maekar and Lords Hayford and Arryn. A week after they took Harrenhal they received word of the outcome of what the smallfolk were calling the Battle of Redgrass Field. Daemon- their brother- had been killed, slain by arrows to the back by Brynden Rivers, the man had also killed Aegon, Daemon's son. Aegor Bittersteel had fled with Daemon's remaining children except for Aemon to the east. Of Aemon, Bittersteel had written that he was riding for the north with great haste.

That was how they found themselves in this situation now, 12,000 angry northmen gathered on the Isle of Faces. Angry about the way in which their king had been killed, and angry that it had been a follower of the Old Gods who had done the deed. That was why when Harmond Umber stepped forward and drew his longsword and laid it Daeron's feet and said " The Black dragon is dead, our king is dead. His children no more than mere babes. Why not rule ourselves? What have the Targaryens ever done for us, except insult us? My lords there stands the only king I will ever bow to. The King of the North!"

Cregan too got down on bended knee and said "I am your brother, now and always. Through thick and thin, through ice and fire. You are my king brother, the king of the north!"

The other lords of the north got down on bended knee and proclaimed Daeron the King of the North, the dragons be damned. The North had awoken, and it would be free, for the North Remembers.