Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 48: Siege of Moat Cailin (Part 2)

Robb stood toe-to-toe with Victarion, with his direwolf Grey Wind at his side. The beast snarled at the large ironborn, baring his teeth, wrinkling his snout and sticking his eats low and out to the sides. As he maintained a firm grip on his longsword, Victarion sized up the Young Wolf; with his hands gripping his large, two-handed battleaxe, the Lord Captain was gearing up for a ferocious fight.

The sound of rain and thunder still battered the landscape, ignoring the sounds and shrieks of any ironborn engulfed in wildfire. Wooden pillars lit aflame were starting to collapse, smaller stones were getting pushed out of place with every impact the royal siege weapons made. It wasn't long before the ironborn stationed on the walls started getting hit with arrows the moment the ladders were raised. Down onto the ground, both Harrion and Torrhen Karstark were straining themselves trying to lift the heavy bar off the southern main gate to allow King Daveth's forces entry as a few started climbing the walls. Other royal forces trying to climb the ladders into the ancient fortress, however, still met heavy resistance by the ironborn as some were shot off with arrows or their heads being bashed with stones.

"Keep pushing, brother!" shouted Harrion.

"I'm trying!" replied Torrhen.

It was a grueling effort, but the Karstark brothers—groaning and straining under the weight—managed to lift the wooden pillar off the southern main gates before tossing them open. Seizing the opportunity, Daveth, having snapped the final remaining arrow lodged into his right shoulder in half, saw the front gates opening and turned to his soldiers.

"Our allies have opened the southern gate. All forces, commence the pincer attack! Take back Moat Cailin!" Daveth commanded as his men on the ground charged through the breach.

Each soldiers of Houses Baratheon, Lannister, Tully, Tyrell, etc. formed up in a spearhead with the Young Stag at the point. Alongside the King, three of the Kingsguard knights chose to accompany him into the thick of it. Ser Barristan Selmy took the place to his right. On the left, Ser Lucius Blackmyre readied his mace. Behind him, Ser Jaime Lannister guarded his nephew's rear flank.

"Victory is within our reach!" one of the Lannister soldiers proudly exclaimed.

"Crush the ironborn!" another Baratheon man-at-arms shouted.

"Drive 'em out!"

"Moat Cailin is as good as ours!"

Daveth' squire, Olyvar, was rather anxious about his first major battle – but readied himself. With his sword in hand, he steeled himself for this. More than 9,459 men were already killed during the first wave when the ironborn attacked using spitfires atop the battlements. An additional 1,400 men fell in battle. Now that they're gone, they could storm the ancient fortress from the ground while several more climbed the ladders to clear out the ironborn stationed there.

Storming through the breach, Daveth gripped Stormbringer as several ironborn raiders came charging at him. The Young Stag was able to take out his fair share, whilst Ser Barristan, Ser Lucius and Ser Jaime killed their fair share as well. Confident as he was, Daveth still felt a painful burning sensation in his shoulder. Although adrenaline kept rushing through his body, he felt as if his right arm was being weighed down due to his wounds. Even so, he remained determined to carry on the plan of attack. Finally making his way to the center of Moat Cailin, Daveth stood toe-to-toe with the ironborn commander in front of him.

"Well, well," Victarion glanced behind him. "The scared, little trophy has grown up."

"Victarion Greyjoy," Daveth glared.

Robb Stark and Grey Wind in front, Daveth Baratheon and his Kingsguard knights from behind. Victarion Greyjoy's face remained hidden behind his kraken helm, but he grinned in excitement at facing a challenging adversary, one who'd make a suitable offering to the Drowned God. But the Lord Captain wasn't staring down the same frightened little boy he and Euron Greyjoy captured during the raid of Lannisport many years ago; rather, the Young Stag stared him directly in the eyes wielding his Valyrian steel sword pointed directly at him, his posture already assumed the knight's dance fighting style.