Halfhand's Legacy: A Dance of Dragons - A Self-Insert Tale (Completed)

131 AC

Dreadfort, The North

"I must say, Ser Martyn, it is indeed a pleasant surprise to see that a castle has surrendered to me without the need for a dragon," I said to Ser Martyn Reyne after I alighted off Sunfyre after landing outside the most infamous castle in the North.

The Dreadfort was an imposing castle that lived up to its name, the castle along the northern banks of the Weeping Water had a foreboding aspect and a sinister edge thanks to those teeth-like merlons on the walls. The castle looks dead from the outside. I can spot my banner on the ramparts instead of Bolton, Stark, or Rhaenyra's banners. The snow-filled landscape around the grim and grey castle made for a great contrast.

Martyn Reyne was one of the many nobles in court during Viserys' time who were brought by their fathers to become my companions. Though I was a loner and at times a solitary drunkard, I made some connections or the other with people that Alicent and Otto wanted me to if nothing else but to get them off my back. Martyn was one such case, he, Cleon Estermont, and Eddard Waters. The first two were second sons while Eddard was the bastard son of Lord Thorne, the nephew of Ser Rickard Thorne. They were the only ones I could stand, the rest were unbearable. Even so, I kept these three at arm's length, I know them well but they don't know me well enough.

"Your Grace...well..umm..it wasn't all that peaceful," Martyn stuttered as he felt intimidated by Sunfyre standing behind me.

"Yes, I can see that now," I replied looking over at the people cleaning up human remains from the base of the walls. Looks like there was a battle here. "Did you storm the castle before I arrived? If you did then I must commend you and this entire army, especially your commander Lord Peake. Storming the Dreadfort with only scaling ladders and ropes is no mean feat, those walls are tall and strong." I said with no small amount of surprise. Who would have thought that Grumpy Peake would successfully storm the Dreadfort? I wonder if the cunt will ask for the Dreadfort as a prize to make a fourth castle on his banner.

"Well...I mean, they did..um..surrender but not very peacefully, not at the start anyway," Martyn stammered uncomfortably.

"The fuck are you going on about, Martyn?" I asked annoyed with his stammering, "Did you storm the castle or did they surrender peacefully?" I demanded.

"They surrendered," Martyn quickly answered, "But only after we failed to storm the castle."

Sounds legit, the same thing happened at Widow's Watch. Ser Roger Corne had to intimidate the garrison into surrendering by telling them I was about to arrive. "Makes sense, I suppose," I said with a nod before I asked, "Where is Lord Peake?" I figured that Unwin Peake would be the first one running out of the castle to greet me. The man was desperate for my favour that I very consciously did not give.

"Umm, he was killed attempting to storm the castle," Martyn grimly replied, "The defenders dropped a rock on his head as he was attempting to scale the walls. His helm was crushed. Since we do not have the Silent Sisters we have been unable to prepare his body for burial, we are yet to remove the mangled helm from his crushed head for somehow the metal has become one with the flesh."

For a moment, I didn't react before I turned my face away from Martyn and I clamped my mouth shut before I could break out laughing uproariously. Unwin Peake got Maekar'd, the timeline is finally broken. After nearly a year of heartbreak, grief, and pain, I finally had something to laugh about. Once I am back in the skies, I am going to laugh my ass off and Sunfyre could sense that I was actually happy, the first in a long time as he nudged me a bit so to share the joke. No one is going to push my little girl off Maegor's Holdfast now.

I patted Sunfyre on the snout before I turned back to Martyn and I said with the most straight and normal face I could muster, "Lord Peake's sacrifice will never be forgotten." Looking at Martyn's rather confused face I have a feeling that I may have slipped a bit.

I better finish off with the Dreadfort, I have to deal with Karhold after this but only after I see Unwin's body "So who is second in command?" I asked once I got my emotions under control.

We began walking to the horses that were brought out for me, "Ser Gedmund Peake was the second for Lord Unwin. After Lord Unwin's death, he attempted to storm the castle in his fury and he would have carried the day had the old man bothered to wear a helmet. He made it to the battlements on the wall and managed to kill Bolton in single combat before an arrow found his eye." How wonderful, yet another Peake is dead, this campaign is off to a great start.

"So, you are now in charge of this army?" I asked Martyn as we mounted the horses. A guard of honour was made for me as we began to ride toward the castle, mostly Peake and a few Reyne soldiers. I noticed the many ships on the Weeping Water waiting for their turn to unload their cargo while the sole pier was congested with soldiers and knights gathering their supplies for the long march on Winterfell.

Martyn answered, "Well, yes, Your Grace but only after a lot of deaths. Lord Peake surrounded himself with his kinsmen, his uncle, his son Ser Titus, his bastard half-brother Ser Mervyn Flowers, and his nephew Ser Amaury and placed them in charge of most of the army. Oddly enough, all five of them were killed within three hours in an attempt to storm the castle, they didn't even bother to ask for a surrender or anything, they blindly attacked the walls. An ill omen to House Peake indeed."

That brought me to a stop in shock, "All five Peakes are dead!!" This day was getting even better, if I didn't control myself I would fall from my horse laughing. So long Unwin, no doubt the man wanted to take the Dreadfort for House Peake along with gaining glory that would bring him recognition to the point that I would have to favour him in court. The dumbass ended up killing himself and his family in the attempt.

Martyn nodded, "Yes, Your Grace. I took command of the army since I am now the highest-ranking noble in this army. The remaining knights are from minor houses compared to House Reyne." Martyn then went on to reveal the grisly fates of all five Peakes, an explanation that I thoroughly enjoyed. "Ser Amaury was the first one to die after his horse fell into one of the ditches outside the walls and broke his neck. After him was Lord Peake and then his son Ser Titus who got impaled on one of the stakes on the ditches after the defenders pushed him off his ladder. The bastard Mervyn managed to make it to the battlements with Gedmund but he was surrounded and killed after Gedmund's death." I wonder if I can strip the Peakes of their castles or maybe make the Tyrells do it.

"Once I took command of the army, I decided to threaten the Bolton's that you were about to arrive. Since Lord Rogar Bolton fought and died for your cause, Your Grace, I decided to give them one last chance to surrender. Rogar's son Arthor was killed by Gedmund and he was the last male Bolton, so the command of the castle fell to his sister, Lady Barba and she agreed to surrender in exchange for leniency. I accepted those terms on your behalf, I hope that they are acceptable."

I nodded, "They are, House Bolton did raise their banners for me." Though I wasn't there to help them.

Then I asked him, "Say, Martyn, you are a second son, how would you like to rule the Dreadfort, you are free to rename it of course. You can name it the Lion's Den or something like that for the teeth merlons. All you need to do is marry Lady Barba and the Dreadfort and all its lands are yours." Martyn was taken aback by my blunt proposal, I continued speaking, "Your Father died fighting for me at the Golden Tooth and your elder brother has covered himself in glory in leading the defence of the Rock alongside Ser Erwin. I feel like the Dreadfort will be an apt reward for your house for all that you have given for my cause."

"Your Grace, I am truly honoured that you would consider me for such a great position," Martyn recovers from his original shock and begins with the usual speech. I wave it off as we pass underneath the impressive barbican and the sharp portcullis.

"Oh come of it, Martyn, everyone who is in this campaign is here for castles and whatnot. Your overlords have already received Deepwood Motte from me for their cousin Ser Brett Lannister and my kinsman Lyonel has received Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore from me which he has given to his younger brother Martyn alongside the promise of city charter." I can see the gears turning inside his head. No doubt thanking his fortune that he got to be acquainted with me.

"The only thing I am taking from the North will be the swamps of the Neck and Moat Cailin. The rest is free for anyone to take provided that they have the skills for it. I plan to give you, Cleon, and Ned some of the lands and castles of the North for I can only trust loyal men such as yourself. You come from a prestigious line and with an excellent pedigree from the Westerlands, you will be perfect here to keep the peace and rule these lands in my name. Who knows you might even become the Lord Paramount of the Eastern North? Provided you play your cards right." Martyn is certainly receptive to this idea.

I dismount from my horse and all the northerners bend their knees and keep their heads down, I turn to Martyn as he dismounts, "Be sure to add the Bolton soldiers to your host, they will serve as excellent guides and trackers in the snow." The castle is filled with soldiers, southern soldiers. The only Northerners are the ones who are standing outside the main keep, I am assuming the pale-eyed lady in the centre is Lady Barba surrounded by her household and retainers, all the Bolton soldiers have been disarmed.

I walk over to Lady Barba and Martyn by my side ceremoniously demands, "Lady Barba Bolton, Lady of the Dreadfort, do you pledge fealty to King Aegon, of House Targaryen, second of his name."

Lady Barba slowly raises her head looks at me straight in the eye and says, "I, Barba Bolton, Lady of the Dreadfort, do hereby pledge fealty to King Aegon, of House Targaryen, second of his name. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New."

"Rise, Lady Barba," I say to her while trying not to lose the staring contest. Damn, these Boltons have creepy eyes, I can only hope Martyn's blue eyes win out in the gene pool of their kids. Other than the creepy eyes, I would say that Barba is rather comely-looking and she is also not intimidated by my face, most people like her retainers and household have shied away from looking at me directly because of my scarring. I look like a watered-down version of Two-Face.

"Your Father fought and died in my name and I have not forgotten that. Had circumstances been more favourable I would have flown North to help him," I said to her as she stared unflinchingly at me.

"Alas, you were unable to arrive on time, Your Grace, but I bear no ill will for my Father's choices are his own," She evenly replied. This lady has some serious balls on her.

Well, good luck to Martyn. May he live a long and prosperous life as the Lord Reyne of the Lion's Den with his new lady. Now, I want to go and see what is left of Peake's body.

Winterfell

Winterfell, what a castle, I thought in awe. This is a huge castle complex that is fully functioning, unlike Harrenhal. Those two massive granite walls dwarf Sunfyre nearly ten times over. This castle is simply too immense for me to make another Harrenhal, it will take me days of relentless burning to make this place into a ruin provided I manage to avoid those numerous scorpions that line both the walls. The Great Keep alone is massive enough to become a castle in its own right. It is not the small Eyrie or the moderately sized Goldengrove. If I had Aemond and Vhagar perhaps they could have done it or maybe I could have done it with Daeron and Aemond within an hour.

Thinking of Aemond and Daeron brought out a long-suppressed pang of sorrow, I should have seen Aemond's insecurity bubbling under the surface. I should have gone to help Daeron when he and Tessarion were so obviously struggling against the larger Silverwing but then what if Rhaenys and Meleys prevailed over Aemond and Vhagar or made a mutual kill? And even if I saved Daeron at the cost of Aemond, what if Daeron was killed by Daemon? So many ifs and buts and now I am left all alone with Sunfyre.

The entire army hasn't arrived yet, some of the army groups are still stuck in the snow I presume, but enough and more have arrived for us to make a complete siege. Around forty thousand out of seventy minus whatever has been left as garrisons in the captured castles. The Karhold, Last Hearth, Torrhen's Square, and Moat Cailin army groups are running behind schedule, maybe I should finish this before another blizzard strikes. Winter's ugly head has already reared up and many soldiers are starting to die of frostbite and the cold. The supply trains are getting stuck in the snow while some of the sellswords are deserting due to lack of pay since the pay chests are depleted, though most are caught and hung. It is only my presence that is keeping this army together.

"Do you think the kids will recognize me once I get home?" I asked Sunfyre as we sat alone on top of a hill overlooking the camp and Winterfell.

"You remember that time when I shaved my beard for my father's feast to celebrate the return of his health? Jae would have none of it, he wouldn't stop crying for nearly two whole days, since then I haven't shaved until the coronation," I said to Sunfyre who merely lounged on the snow. It is nice to have someone to talk to who won't judge for what you do. He is like my therapist who doesn't talk back except for a little bit of shrill cries, growls, puffs of smoke and bumps by his snout. All the while understanding me.

"I must look like a monster to them," I remarked dejectedly, it was bad enough to lose Aemond and Daeron but having your kids look at you in fear will be much worse. Sunfyre didn't like that, he raised his head from the snow and bumped me to disagree with me. "You think they won't mind?" He gave out a puff of smoke in reply. "Maybe Jaehaera won't, she doesn't mind anything though Jae and Mael are more emotional compared to their sister."

I looked at my friend, like me, he too carried the scars of war. His body still had numerous marks of his horrific duels with Caraxes, Syrax, and Meleys. Those scars were like black lines along his golden body. I was truly lucky in that, unlike OTL Meleys at Rooks Rest, Caraxes did not try to tear out Sunfyre's wing but merely tore the wing membranes and left the wing bones alone allowing him to recover faster. Caraxes was more interested in trying to close his jaws around Sunfyre's neck. I knew that was Caraxes' MO so Sunfyre and I desperately held him off for as long as we did. First, we placed poor Seasmoke in our way and didn't last as long as I wanted him to. So I tried to bait Daemon by flying into the clouds which didn't work as it had worked on his wife. Had Hel been a second too late, the Blood Wyrm would have gotten a proper death grip on Sunfyre and then the two of us would have definitely been killed in that fall.

"I now stand on the cusp of victory and I find myself wondering was this war worth the price I have paid. Aemond, Daeron is dead, Tessarion is dead, and the two of us nearly died. I nearly died twice and all for that ugly chair," I said picking up a stone and throwing it into the distance. Sunfyre looked at me with a bemused look.

"The only good thing that has happened in the war has been Daemon's death, and Rhaenyra's. And of course that cunt Jacaerys and his bitch Baela, killing those two was fun, wasn't it. Taking care of that dick Joffrey was even easier." Sunfyre growled in agreement with me.

"And how can I forget, Unwin is dead, seeing his corpse with his mangled helm still stuck on his crushed head was fun. It's always good to enjoy the little things," I said with a small smile and Sunfyre smiled as well. He didn't know why I hated Unwin but he knew I hated him so he also hated him. When I was happy that Unwin was dead he was also happy. I wonder if the poor sods have managed to get the helmet off, I pity the Silent Sisters who have to deal with his body.

I remember back fondly, "You remember that time when we made fun of Aemond? We were calling him Eyepatch Visenya that day in the Dragonpit and that Granny Vhagar was a senile old bitch who was still waiting for a chance to kill the Dornish. Man, he got so angry, his little red face was hilarious and he ran off to Vhagar's lair to complain about us. She didn't even deign to wake up for Aemond's complaining and Aemond feared that Vhagar had passed away, even Daeron and the Dragonkeepers laughed." Sunfyre gave a shrilled cry in response. He also thought it was hilarious.

Oh to think that Vhagar has outlived Aemond. When will that old bitch die? I wonder if she will accept anyone else as her rider. She must be tired of everyone's shit.

"Good times," I said with a sigh looking at the sky. I caught sight of a solitary dark cloud, that cloud was an ill omen and I was proven right when horse hooves and horse neighs reached me from behind. I turn around to see Criston and Rickard riding toward me, they quickly stop when Sunfyre angrily growls at them for ruining our alone time.

"What is it Ser Criston? Have the others arrived yet?" I ask with a yawn as I get up from the log I was sitting on and I stretch my legs.

"I am afraid not, Your Grace. According to our rangers and scouts from the North, it seems that a blizzard is coming," Criston answered and almost immediately I could feel my blood boiling with all the calm from before evaporating.

"You fucking cunts," I spit out, "I should have attacked Winterfell on my own when I arrived with the ten thousand men who arrived first from White Harbour. But no!! You and other bloody lords wanted what?" Criston has the decency to look embarrassed, "Oh yes, you wanted a glorious victory where everyone was brought together so that it will look good on the bloody songs and portraits for this war. Why did I even fucking allow myself to get talked into this nonsense?"

"Because apparently, some people are too upset about not being able to join in the glory of this war for some bloody reason." Spittle starts flying out of my mouth as I rant in anger while Sunfyre picks up on my anger and starts to growl. These bloody lords and nobles think they are so bloody important for me to care about when they might as well be vermin to me. Why did I ever allow Tyland and Criston to talk me into this nonsense?

"This is exactly what that cunt Cregan is waiting for, a blizzard. I barely made it out alive with Sunfyre from that storm at Last Hearth, there is no fucking way that I can fly Sunfyre in this fucking storm much less fight a battle. You know how bloody vicious the storms in the Stormlands are, Criston, this is twice as bad and with bloody snow!!!"

I have to take a break from my rant as I catch my breath. I say with a cold fury, "You wonder why I don't bother listening to your and the much-vaunted counsel of these many lords because of this very reason. You fools are too busy thinking about how good you look while taking care of a problem instead of actually solving it."

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I take deep breaths to calm myself before an agitated Sunfyre burns both the Kingsguard present. I need to end this, I should have never listened to those self-aggrandizing fools.

Tyland told me that some of the Reachmen were unhappy with the lack of glory in this war, most of the Reachmen ended up dead either at the Goldroad or at the Green Fork. Those that didn't die and got a taste of victory under me at Old Oak were the Tyrells, so many of the other lords like Peake and Florent did not like that.

The Westermen on the other hand after being on the receiving end of Daemon's and the Ironborn depredations on their lands also now seek glory to reclaim their honour that they claim was lost. The fact that I won against Daemon and Helaena killed Dalton doesn't matter apparently because they weren't a part of it. I wasn't one to give a shit about the opinions of the nobles but factionalism in my court was something that I detested. So I agreed with Tyland to wait for the others to come as he sought to cool down tensions between the Reachmen and the Westermen.

They ought to learn from the Rivermen, Stormlanders, and the Valemen who are happy with whatever favours they get from me. Though now that Peake, the main spokesperson is dead they should be subdued but rather with Peake's death everyone now seems to think that wherever I am not there, bad luck will follow.

"Should we prepare the men for an assault? I am certain that we can get them ready before the blizzard hits," Criston cautiously asks once I calm down.

I waved it off as I walked over to climb Sunfyre, "Don't bother, just get the men ready for an attack on our camp. We are guests in this country and if our host seeks to surprise us then we should oblige him. Let that fool try to recreate the Last Storm in the snow, we shall be ready for him."

Someone should have bothered to tell Cregan how the Last Storm ends.

The Battle in the Blizzard

Visibility in this snowstorm was shit, the wind is against us helping the Northmen outrange our archers. And most importantly, I cannot fly Sunfyre in this weather. Two trenches were dug in front of a wooden palisade, while it was a complete contravallation of the castle only the one on my side would be attacked. I made sure to plan my standard in front of the gate leading to the Kingsroad so that Cregan knew exactly where I was. This is going to be fun.

Tyland says to me as we await the Northmen, "To be fair Your Grace, we couldn't risk you, not anymore. You are our sovereign and with Prince Aemond and Prince Daeron slain, it is imperative to keep you safe. The sheer amount of scorpions on the walls of Winterfell was too many for our comfort. While I do not doubt your skill at dragon riding with Sunfyre all it takes is one lucky shot. Queen Rhaenys learnt that the hard way at Hellholt."

Criston follows up, "This blizzard in a way is a blessing, Your Grace, it has forced Cregan to abandon his defensive position and attack leaving him open. This time it will be our trap against him and we shall avenge Prince Aemond."

Criston and Tyland stood by my side while the rest of the Kingsguard stood behind, Ser Arryk, Ser Rickard, Ser Willis, and Ser Gyles while Ser Robin and Ser Marston were guarding the Royal family in the Red Keep. Poor Arryk went through a crisis of faith when his twin was killed on Dragonstone due to Ser Alfred's betrayal of Rhaenyra. Fortunately, he has recovered, though I have a good feeling that the man wants to die in glory rather than live any longer.

I thought about what they said, "I suppose you are right but you seem to forget that I have been placing myself in the Stranger's hands since the day I first flew Sunfyre to war. Did you know that a group of huntsmen nearly killed me at the Lesser Mander before I attacked Goldengrove? Had I been two seconds late in putting my helmet on I would have died. When I flew to the Vale, I half expected to find Rhaenys and Meleys. Sunfyre is no match for the Red Queen, I knew that and even with Daeron, the two of us would probably die, either taking her down with us or maybe not. I was lucky that Jacaerys and Baela came instead. When we fought at the Gullet, I first fought against the Red Queen alone and trust me when I say this, had Aemond and Daeron been a mere two minutes late then I would have died. And of course my battle against Daemon, again had Helaena been late I would have died there as well. I have been extremely lucky at all points in this war when I have been dancing in front of the Stranger."

"It is unwise to test your luck all the time, Your Grace, who knows when your luck can run out?" Criston replied shielding his face from the snow. He did make a good point, I no longer have the luxury to test my luck anymore. I am all that is left of my family as far as battle-ready dragonlords are concerned. Helaena and Dreamfyre are nothing more than a last-minute resort when it comes to battle, she has no stomach for it. She is a sweet and kind soul. The battles at the Mander and Old Oak were already too much for her.

"If my luck were to run out in the air over Winterfell, I doubt it would hold here in the snow," I remarked. "Speaking of which, how many men do we have and how many do they have?"

Criston answered, "We have around forty thousand men, Your Grace, and I would assume that they would have no more than fifteen thousand men. We have the advantage in numbers and this time we will not fall for any tricks."

"No, not that number. When I asked how many men we have I meant how many men do we have right here and right now on this side who will be facing the brunt of Cregan's attack," I clarified my question to them.

"We have around twenty thousand men here, Your Grace, with Lord Lyonel and Ser Erwin on our far-flung flanks," Tyland answered this time. Once we get the Northmen well engaged with our lines and Cregan's position is confirmed the signal will be given to Gwayne and Erwin to move their forces over the palisade and attack the Northern flanks. Here's to hoping that they will rout.

"No horse is going to ride out in this snow, this will be a battle fought and decided on foot," Criston remarked hefting his Morningstar. Then I hear a faint sound that I hear whenever Northern castles catch sight of me. The sound of a war horn

"Hush," I raise my hand, "Can you hear it." The snowstorm had masked the Northmen, our visibility was down as was hearing.

Criston heard it, "THE NORTHMEN ARE APPROACHING, READY YOURSELVES, SPEARS AND SHIELDS, SPEARS AND SHIELDS!!!"

I was proven right in moments as the Northmen slowly emerged from the snow. Trumpets blared and messengers were sent as everyone prepared for what should be the final major encounter of this war.

I unsheathed Blackfyre out of its scabbard for what might as well be its first real battle in this war. Since my old black plate armour was burnt and melted, I wore a new plate armour, this one was a well-made armour of grey lobstered steel with a little dragon scale motif design and a three-headed dragon engraved on the breastplate near my neck.

I wore my crowned helmet and I strode forward to the front lines with Ser Criston and the Kingsguard by my side. I bellowed out in the storm, "MEN OF THE DRAGON, ARE YOU WITH ME?!!"

The men roared back their voices breaking through the storm, "FOR THE DRAGON, FOR THE DRAGON, FOR THE DRAGON!!!"

I could hear the Northmen chanting their war cries and blaring their war horns, "WINTER IS COMING, WINTER IS COMING, WINTER IS COMING!!!"

Then suddenly slowly advancing Northmen broke into a mad charge. As they came closer I got to see them more clearly, they wore furs, pelts, ragged skins, studded leather and some with a few bits of mail here and there. Some wield huge greatswords or axes but most of them have slings and spears. These must be the famous clansmen of the North who are fiercely loyal to the Starks.

Criston roared, "HOLD, KEEP STEADY MEN, YOUR KING IS WITH YOU, DO NOT FEAR THESE HEATHENS!!!"

Then stones begin to fly from one of the slingers and one of the stones strikes one of the spearmen near me on his helmet, the man rocks back and falls. Instinctively Criston pulls me back and the Kingsguard surround me and cover me with their shields. And not a moment too soon as the hail of stones is quickly replaced by arrows. I can hold no shield so I keep to it under the impromptu testudo shield wall made by my Kingsguard.

I cannot see but I can hear the wave of clansmen crash into the palisade screaming even as arrows fall around me. I could hear the screams of men who were struck, I could also hear the clansmen dying after being speared at the palisade while others fell into the ditches. The hail of arrows continued for some time before it finally ended. I moved out of the shield wall and I saw bodies of the clansmen littered across the palisade, some impaled on the stakes while others managed to make it over only to be killed. Only a handful of my soldiers were injured while those struck by arrows and stones were taken behind.

Their first attempt had been easily repulsed, our defensive positioning, better equipment and organization gave us the advantage over them but these were just clansmen. The main Stark force was no doubt waiting behind them, hoping for the clansmen to soften us before they attacked.

"They are preparing for another charge. Bring forth the crossbowmen," I commanded one of the captains standing near me who immediately nodded. The crossbowmen will tear these clansmen apart in seconds.

"CROSSBOWMEN, TO THE PALISADE, NOW!!" The captain called out and instantaneously the crossbowmen streamed into the open space between the palisade and the spearmen who made space for them. The crossbowmen were three ranks deep to ensure a continuous rate of firing and reloading without any interruptions.

Then as I heard the clansmen starting their second charge, I quickly called out, "CROSSBOWMEN, LOOSE AT WILL!!" The twang of the crossbow strings quickly followed my declaration. The impact of the quarrels could be heard as they sank into the unprotected flesh of the clansmen followed by their cries of pain. The first line pulled back followed by the second and then the third. Each wave of crossbowmen found their mark. The crossbowmen of the first line did not have to repeat their attacks for the clansmen melted away after the third wave. The clansmen never made it to the palisade walls, the closest they got to was the first ditch.

I stepped forward to see the carnage wrecked on the northmen. The snow was now red, the ground was littered with bodies and gore, some dead while some were in the throes of death. Most of them have crossbow bolts sticking out of them. A few of the wounded tried to crawl away but they were picked off by the crossbowmen who aimed for any movement from the bodies.

That was the end of the clansmen, now the real Stark infantry would attack and I was right. I could hear and see a bit of the clansmen pulling back and the Stark infantry taking their place. They were well-armed compared to the clansmen with mailed shirts and coifs underneath the surcoats and helmets and each man carried a spear and a shield. While not as well equipped as my men, they were still going to be a challenge compared to the clansmen.

"MEN PREPARE YOURSELF, NOW COMES THE REAL TEST," Criston called out to the men along the lines as the Kingsguard once more surrounded me.

If the main Stark infantry is about to attack then their archers will release their entire payload of arrows on us. Most of my crossbowmen have no pavise shields, they will be sitting ducks. I need to change the lineup once more before they attack.

I barked out orders to the knights, captains and serjeants near me, "CROSSBOWMEN, PULL BACK!! SPEARMEN GO FRONT!! ARCHERS, STAND AT THE READY!!"

"Are you sure that you don't want to go to the rear, Your Grace? It might become more dangerous over here," Criston asked as the men began to reshuffle the lines along their assigned positions.

"Fuck yes," I replied, "I am going to lead through the front this whole battle," I called out to the captain of the archers, "Once the enemy is in range, tell your men to start losing their arrows and don't stop unless they retreat or you run out of arrows."

The captain bowed, "Yes, Your Grace." Hopefully, most of the Stark arrows will land on the spearmen who have shields and not on the archers behind them.

The Kingsguard once more surrounded me in their shield wall and my prediction was right as once more the arrows began to rain down upon us. As I stayed under the shield wall, I could hear some men being struck by arrows that got through their defences but most of my men stood firm. The rain of arrows in the snow goes on for an eternity.

Then a brave trumpeter under a shield pokes his head over the palisade before turning and blowing his trumpet to signal that the Starks have entered the range of our archers. Almost immediately the twang of bowstrings can be heard as my archers return the missile fire.

Some of the arrows crash into each other in the air before falling harmlessly while the others fly over the palisade. Before long the Starks arrive at the palisade and start attacking only to be met by the spearmen. The barrage of arrows continues on both sides relentlessly. A few of the Stark soldiers manage to clamber over the wooden stakes only to meet their deaths.

Then after an eternity, the arrows from the Starks stop while the arrows from my men continue unabatedly. I move out of the shield wall once I am certain that no more arrows are falling around us. One of the Stark men climbs over the palisade and comes close to me, Criston steps forward and smashes his Morningstar into the man's face. But that man is not the only one who is getting over the palisade.

With Blackfyre in hand, I step forward to the palisade and throw myself into the fray. A man climbs over on the palisade next to me and I welcome him by driving Blackfyre into his throat. The next person who comes over finds Blackfyre going through his mouth. I don't have the time to process the people I have killed as I keep running across the lines along with the Kingsguard ensuring that all gaps in the defenses are filled while I motivate the men.

"KEEP AT IT, LADS, DO NOT LET THEM THROUGH!!" I encourage the men as fighting breaks out all across the lines. I punch Blackfyre through the chest of one unlucky Northerner, his byrnie does not stop Valyrian steel. The next person to climb over the palisade is no ordinary soldier but by the looks of it, a Lord, well-armoured and his surcoat is that of House Cerwyn.

Before I can attack the man, Ser Arryk swings his sword at him. I seek to intervene in the fight but then the surge of Northmen climbing over the palisade increases as the hail of arrows from my side slows down. Fires start breaking out across the palisade as the Northmen attempt to burn the wood but this time the snowstorm works in our favour as the snow smothers all the attempted fires.

Then the Northmen start flinging hooks over the palisade before trying to pull them down. This time it works and the wood breaks giving way to gaps that the Northmen try to exploit while my men try to plug them creating chokepoints. Around five gaps have been made across our line making five chokepoints for us. I look over the palisade to see that the entire northern army is surging forward. Cregan has placed everything on this attack. I can see that my men are buckling under the pressure, I need to staunch the flow of northmen before they break through.

"SEND IN THE RESERVE, SEND IN THE RESERVE," Criston shouts to the rear lines as even more soldiers from both sides are thrown into the meat grinder. Spears are thrown, archers with no more arrows drop their bows grab their axes and knives and enter the fray even as more gaps are created in the palisade.

"BRING IN THE CROSSBOWMEN, BRING IN THE CROSSBOWMEN," I holler out. The crossbowmen arrive in the nick of time. I don't have to tell them what to do, they know exactly what to do. They split into groups on both sides of the gaps before sending their quarrels into the jam-packed horde of northmen desperately trying to push in. The crossbowmen have the northerners like a fish in a barrel, an easy kill.

The crossbowmen have their intended effect as the surging mass of northmen begins to dissipate as many of them fall to quarrels. The snowstorm around us starts to slow down and the Northmen begin to reform. I look up at the falling snow, perhaps I can fly Sunfyre in this. This is not as heavy as before.

"GIVE THE SIGNAL TO SER GWAYNE, GIVE THE SIGNAL TO SER ERWIN!!" Criston hoarsely screams out before he grabs one of the soldiers near him, "GO TO THE LORD HAND, TELL HIM TO GIVE THE SIGNAL. THEY HAVE THROWN IN ALL THEY HAVE."

Then a hook lands on top of the palisade right next to me, before I can react, splinters of wood are flying everywhere as the breaks open and I find myself facing a whole surge of Northmen by myself. The first man through the gap charges at me, I parry his strike and I slice off his head. Immediately afterwards, that man is followed by another who thrusts his spear at me, I narrowly dodge the spear before cutting open his neck. I look around to find only Ser Gyles of my Kingsguard by my side along with a bunch of other men-at-arms and knights. Where did the rest of the Kingsguard go?

"YOUR GRACE, YOUR GRACE!!" Criston cries out from my left as he rushes over toward me but he is stopped by a whole group of Northmen. Suddenly I am struck on my shoulder by a sword, the pauldron deflects it off but it brings me back to my battle. I drive Blackfyre into the man's eye before I place my leg on his chest to push it out.

"YOUR GRACE, WE MUST PULL BACK, IT IS NOT SAFE HERE," Ser Gyles frantically says as he fights off the Northman trying to bury his axe in his head. The Northmen must know who I am, with my crowned helm and Valyrian steel sword. It is only a matter of time before Cregan Stark arrives. And that is what I have been waiting for a long time now.

"NEVER, I AM NOT RETREATING, NOT NOW, NOT EVER!!" I reply before I throw myself wholly into the fight.

Criston taught me how to fight and kill with my left hand to the point that I do better with my left than I ever was with my right. I was never a prodigy as Aemond but I was quick and savage in fighting as needed and I learned to kill and finish the fight before the fight went on for too long. I stab, swing, thrust, slash, parry, deflect, and dodge everything that comes at me. Blackfyre goes up and down, left and right, every time it goes it plunges into someone's flesh and it comes out with a spray of blood.

Limbs are hacked off and lives are taken but I keep swinging Blackfyre. A huge northern warrior with a mace comes at me, he shouts something at me which is lost in the din of battle. His mace comes swinging down to crush my head, I sidestep that attack before I return one of my own on his now overstretched arm. I cut him off at the elbow, the man screams as I swing Blackfyre again straight into his belly. I twist Blackfyre before pulling it out with a bunch of his entrails.

I then hear the Stark soldiers chanting, "STARK, STARK, STARK, STARK!!!" I move away from the fighting toward a yet unbroken part of the palisade and I look over. It is a Northern warrior marching with another cohort of Northmen marching straight towards me. The huge Valyrian steel greatsword he carries is an easy reminder of who he is.

Cregan Stark had finally arrived, the man who killed my brother. I felt my anger course through me and then finally Criston, Rickard and Willis managed to make it through to me. Their white armour is now all bloody with bits of gore on them. No doubt my armour must be the same.

"We need to get you out of here, I will take care of him," Criston urgently said as he stepped in front of me and the broken palisade. Only a few hundred yards away from the broken palisade, Cregan Stark marched forward to face me with his men.

I pressed Blackfyre into the ground before I removed my left gauntlet "No, I will take care of him or more specifically my boy will take care of Cregan." Criston looked at me in confusion before I placed two fingers in my mouth and I whistled as hard as I could. I quickly put my gauntlet back on before I lost even more fingers. I turned to a still confused Criston and I said to him, "Something the Dragonkeepers don't teach you but it is something you teach your dragon nonetheless."

For humans that whistling sound may have been drowned in the din of the battle but my dragon's ears are always open for me and he knows exactly when I need him. His shrill shrieks of joy bring most of the fighting to stop as he glides over the battle lines and lands right next to me. The Kingsguard are quick to move away before he lands while a good number of Northmen on our side of the palisade begin to flee in fear.

Sunfyre was not very happy that I left him in the back and went on to fight without him but now he was happy that I called for him. I grabbed Blackfyre and I quickly climbed aboard my dragon. I could feel my men galvanized and reinvigorated while the morale of the Northmen began to plummet as even more of them began to run. Cregan stood where he was standing, dumbfounded. Not realizing he made a very dangerous enemy the day he killed my brother.

I stand up on the saddle and I scream with all my voice, "MEN OF THE DRAGON, ADVANCE!!!"

Sunfyre leaps into the air while my men shout for joy as Criston leads the counterattack even as the Northmen begin to rout en masse. From above I can also see our flanks moving in for the kill.

Cregan Stark and the northerners try to flee back to the castle but this time it is my turn to stop their retreat. Sunfyre glides low over the battlefield no more than twenty feet in the air. The entire northern army is in a full-on rout and soon a general massacre will begin.

Then once I get the fleeing Cregan in range of Sunfyre's flames, I scream, "PAYBACK'S A BITCH, MOTHERFUCKER!! THIS IS FOR MY BROTHER, SUNFYRE DRACARYS!!!"

My golden boy opens his maw and unleashes a golden maelstrom to end this wretched war for good.