Fanart: By Mike S. Miller
Word Count: 6171 (Yeah I know, I went a little overboard)
Riverlands – 298AC
Lyonel really wanted it to turn out that Ned Stark was just misled. He denied it to himself a million times. He didn't want the rumor to be true. He didn't want the throne. It just couldn't be.
But somewhere deep in his heart he knew it was. He was always the outsider. The Black Stag, maybe the only true stag. The evidence was right there his whole life, yet he chose to ignore it. Maybe Ned should have ignored it too, he would be safe in Winterfell now if he had.
Yes. Joffrey was not fit to rule, that Lyonel knew, but neither was he. He was too young and he would hate the burden that came with it. Joffrey might not be a wise ruler but he hoped his grandfather could get a hold of him and put him on a better path.
He thought of what he would do if he was the first born and on the throne. The solution was so simple, tell Ned to take back his word, show mercy by trading him and his daughters back for peace. Parentage and claims to the throne never particularly interested the North anyway. If Ned just gave up and Joffrey showed a shred of decency then everything would be fine.
But then there was still Stannis.
His Uncle Stannis was not a very affectionate person, him and Lyonel didn't get along that well, but he was a very lawful man. If he believed that Lyonel was the rightful heir, he would do whatever it takes to sit him on that very uncomfortable looking chair. Even kill Joffrey or any other usurper who was in the way.
They would fight and fight over it, and the weak would continue to suffer.
As a young child Lyonel would sneak out of the castle through secret passages. He saw what poor people looked like, what some childhood's looked like. He saw the times of the famine, times of disease. People who suffered while he was completely full and healthy in the castle. His mother would tell him that they were just numbers, like soldiers, and they should be thankful we even let them stay in the city. They were below us. Lyonel never completely bought that philosophy but it was easier to accept than the truth.
And then Aeron saved him when he needed it. Aeron wasn't just a number, he was his friend and Lyonel grew to love him just as much as Tommen, definitely more than Joffrey. It finally hit him that his mother was wrong, none of the people there were numbers, their lives mattered too. Royalty was just born luckier than Aeron and the commoners. Yet they were the ones that were targeted and attacked for actions of royalty. This wasn't what he thought protecting the realm meant.
He was never going to be King, but he had hoped Joffrey would grow out of this murderous faze. Then he would be his hand and be able to help all those people. But now it was clear that this would never happen. They would all suffer even more under Joffrey, because Joffrey didn't care.
He had no idea what he should do. He wished there was a better option for everyone.
But the North forced his hand. He had debated himself, he liked the Starks but he loved his siblings. He couldn't risk the Northerners getting to the capital and hurting them. As he concluded the innocent always suffered the most.
A day or two after the Northerns were spotted, the battle was planned. Tywin moved his soldiers closer. Lyonel sat at the table with his grandfather, his uncle and all the generals leading forces. They were having an evening meal and discussing their final plans again and what they would do if something went astray.
"Why can't we just offer peace?" Lyonel finally suggested.
All the Lords looked at him and he realized with terror that none of them seemed to have even considered the possibility of peace.
All of those fools wanted to fight.
"We have the upper hand" He defended his idea "Prehaps if we just give Robb back his family, it would all be over, no bloodshed needed"
"The Stark has already gone too far, giving away our enemies would make us look weak. If the wolf wants his father and the pups back when he will kneel before your brother first" Tywin said in a voice cold as ice, signaling that there was no more discussion on this topic.
Lyonel opened his mouth but then closed it. 'But aren't human lives more important than pride?' he wanted to ask. But that wouldn't convince Tywin. No, Tywin always had the last word.
"Have you decided if you're going to fight yet Prince Lyonel?" Asked Ser Flement, one of the horsemen.
Lyonel sank a little in his seat. Already feeling quite defeated.
"Yes, I suppose if it can't be avoided then I should"
Lyonel noticed his grandfather was keeping him close. Prehaps for safety against Joffrey, or perhaps because he was worried he might try to escape to Stannis. Either way he was very cautious of his grandson.
Despite this he had given him the options. He was strong, capable and built for battle and Tywin was pretty confident about his win, but on the other hand he was still the current heir to the throne until Joffrey has a son, so his life was pretty valuable.
Tywin nodded "Very well, you'll be in the reserve with me as we discussed"
Granduncle Kevan smiled "Seeing their prince on the battlefield will bring up the moral"
From the open tent door came Tyrion. He was atleast twenty minutes late and he tried to be invisible but everyone looked straight at him.
Tyrion sat down at the end of the table and picked up a piece of bread.
"Oh, do continue. Didn't mean to interrupt" He said taking a bite.
"l do hope your savages are going to be of some use, otherwise we've wasted good steel on them" Tywin snapped "The great hairy one insisted he must have two battleaxes. Heavy black steel, double-sided"
Tyrion shrugged half-amused "Shagga likes axes"
"When the battle commences, you and your wildlings will be in the vanguard"
"The vanguard? Me and the tribesmen on the front lines?"
Lyonel was just as shocked as his uncle. Putting Tyrion of the front? Did his grandfather not realize that his son was not exactly a warrior. He was putting him in immense danger. But Lyonel assumed Tywin just liked causing Tyrion pain, maybe he hoped for his demise.
"They do seem rather ferocious" Kevan noticed. He never liked the clansmen.
"Ferocious?" Tyrion asked looking annoyed and angry "Let me tell you how ferocious they are. Last night, a Moon Brother stabbed a Stone Crow over a sausage. So today three Stone Crows seized the man and opened his throat for him. Perhaps they were hoping to get the sausage back, I couldn't say. Bronn managed to keep Shagga from chopping off the dead man's cock, which was fortunate, but even so Ulf is demanding blood money, which Conn and Shagga refuse to pay"
"When soldiers lack discipline, the fault lies with their commander" Tywin replied sternly.
Tyrion threw his hands up in anger "Surely there are ways to have me killed that would be less detrimental to the war effort"
"There'll be no more discussion on the matter" Tywin ended.
The two got into a short stare-off and everyone became tense.
"lt appears l'm not hungry after all. Excuse me, my lords"
Tyrion threw the piece of bread on the table and walked away from the tent.
"Grandfather" Lyonel turned "Maybe I should fight in the vanguard too, I'd look out for Uncle Tyrion"
Tywin considered it "That's kind of you, but I need you to be with me, you're too inexperienced"
That was the end of that conversion.
Lyonel sighed hoping he could disappear. Tywin was just awful, sending his son into possible death. With his father, he would be actively encouraged to speak and give him advice but Robert would always make sure nothing was too dangerous for him. Tywin wasn't anything like that, he was more of a commander, not a great listener. Lyonel missed his father and suddenly became overcome with grief at the thought that he would never plan an attack with his father ever again.
As men started to clear from the table Tywin turned to him.
"A letter arrived for you, from your uncle Renly" He said.
Lyonel perked up. Uncle Renly. He hasn't given much thought to what was going on with him, being too concerned with his father and his brother and his other uncles. He hoped he was doing fine.
"What did it say?" He asked.
Tywin stood up and took out a piece of paper from his tunic. He offered it to him.
"He's another usurper"
Lyonel took it widening his eyes, he unfolded it.
'To my nephew Prince Lyonel,
I have been informed that you are situated in Tywin Lannisters camp. As you know Ned Stark had discovered that you are the only true son of Robert Baratheon while your half-siblings are bastards. From all our previous conversations I know that you do not want the thrown so I had taken the burden upon myself. I plan to removed Joffrey from power and become King, and I would be glad to receive your official approval. I have recently married Margaery Tyrell and got the Tyrell army, I also have the army of the Stormlands. Unfortunately your Uncle Stannis disapproves, he still insists you are supposed to sit on the Throne. If you come and seek me at Highgarden the people there will tell you where I am, I cannot disclose this in the letter as your grandfather might get a hold of it. I believe the both of us could convince your uncle. Joffrey would not withstand our joined forces. I would sit on the throne and name you my heir until I have a son of my own, you would also receive Storm's End permanently. I hope to see you very soon.
Your loving uncle Renly Baratheon, Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms'
This was a lot of information to take from one letter.
"He has little shame" Tywin said bluntly "Not only trying to take your brother's right but also yours. Him, Robb Stark, these are the kind of people you want to offer peace to"
Then he left.
Lyonel was still staring at the page. There was a lot to worry about, his Uncles safety was at risk. However, everyone's life was at risk, it was what Lyonel expected to read. He didn't quite expect his uncle to try take the throne for himself, but now that he had it seemed fitting for who he is.
It was that one unexpected phrase that sent his mind completely blank.
'I have recently married Margaery Tyrell'
And here he thought nothing his uncle wrote could shock him.
His stomach dropped in fear and her heart felt like something had just stabbed right through it. Margaery Tyrell. The gentle beautiful rose who he adored, was now married to his own Uncle. He couldn't fathom it.
He needed a walk, he hid the letter not wanting to look at it and his legs carried him around the camp.
He didn't even know how he felt. Betrayed? But by who exactly? Renly couldn't have possibly known, but at Highgarden it really did feel like him and Margaery had something, he could swear she was flirting with him. Now he was sure it was just wishful thinking. Maybe it was anger or disappointment he felt? The only thing he knew was that there was a hole in his soul where something precious disappeared.
He should have listened to Aeron, should have brought the idea of marrying her to his father earlier. Now everything was lost. His love gone forever, now a constant presence in his family.
Though, perhaps it was for the best. War was no time for romances, Margaery had already proven to be distracting enough to him. He suddenly felt foolish for focusing on this rather than his possible impending death tomorrow, but he couldn't help it.
He didn't know how long his walk was but by the time he stopped it was already dark and even a little chilly. Tomorrow was the day of the battle, maybe he should just go back to his tent and sleep, but he wasn't sure if he could. The last few months were so hard on him.
"Ly! There you are!"
It was Aeron smiling cheekily. Lyonel turned to him as his head peaked out from one of the nearest tents.
"Come on, we're drinking!" he gestured with his pale hands and then went back into the tent.
Lyonel wasn't really sure who 'we' were but he followed regardless. Right now he felt a little numb and he was down to just follow whatever his friend thought he should do.
He pushed past the opening of the tent and walked in.
On the ground were three people sitting on fancy furs and pillows. Uncle Tyrion was sitting with a cup of wine in his hand. Next to him sat his friend Bronn and across from him a women with dark hair. Lyonel did not recognize her but he definitely had Tyrion's signature tunic on her. Aeron still stood by the entrance waiting for him.
"Beloved nephew!" Tyrion cheered "Glad you joined us"
"You have some company" He obviously noticed.
Tyrion chuckled "This is Bronn, you already met him" he turned to the women "And this is Shae. Everyone, this is my nephew Prince Lyonel"
The companions all looked to him, he bowed his head "Just Lyonel is fine"
Aeron hit his back affectionately "Where were you? I've been looking everywhere but then it got dark" he gestured to the guests "Bronn here, bet me fifteen silver stags that you ran away to Stannis but I knew you wouldn't. Looks like I've won"
Bronn sighed and muttered something then proceeded to look for the money in his cloak, which was on the chair next to him. Lyonel tried to smile but it didn't work.
"We were just playing a drinking game" Tyrion explained.
"I don't drink so perhaps not a good option for me" he replied and turned to Aeron "Here, read it"
He held up the letter for him to read.
"Is it for me?" He questioned taking it.
"No" Lyonel said quickly.
Everyone's eyes looked to him, Bronn stopped searching for the coins to listen. Aeron unfolded the paper and quickly scanned it. His eyes widened as he passed the letters.
When he finished he turned at Lyonel's hurt expression "Well, there's some news"
"What does it say?" Tyrion asked pouring himself more wine.
Aeron looked from Tyrion back to Lyonel, the Black Stag nodded.
Aeron cleared his throat.
"Renly Baratheon pronounced himself King and wants Lyonel's approval" he paused looking up at his friend for a second "He married... Margaery Tyrell and gained her family's army, Stannis wants Lyonel on the throne but Renly knows Lyonel doesn't want it. He wants him to give his rights over to him and he will give him Storm's End and put him in line for the throne after his sons"
Aeron then looked over at his friend. Lyonel thought he was the only one in the room who knew what this was really about.
Tyrion took a sip of his wine before looking at his nephew "He's pressing a claim to the throne? That's bold"
"It gets even worse" Lyonel spoken.
Tyrion frowned.
Aeron folded the letter and sighed "I'm really sorry"
His pity was shining through, Lyonel didn't want it but perhaps he deserved it, he sure felt pathetic.
"Why would you be? Not your fault" He replied bitterly.
Tyrion reached over and took a goblet. Bronn grabbed the wine and filled it.
"Like I needed this problem on top of everything else" The Prince said.
Tyrion stood up and approached him with the alcohol "Drink, it will help"
He took the goblet and looked at the wine "I don't dr-"
He stopped and remembered him father's words.
"We'll talk all about your travels when you come back, over wine"
"I don't drink Father"
"If you get into a real fight out there, you will start to"
They never did get that drink. When did he promise Myrcella and Arya he'll come back? In a moon, it's been three. He couldn't keep his promises, he couldn't protect those he loves. He let down everyone.
He took the wine and took a swing from it.
"Are you going to leave us for Renly?" Aeron asked trying to change the subject indirectly.
Lyonel shook his head "Probably not, I'm too scared of my grandfather"
Tyrion chuckled. Bronn finally found his coins and tossed them to Aeron.
"Why don't you join our game, take your mind of things?" Tyrion smiled.
He sighed "I guess, seeing as I do drink now"
"Great" he cheered "Here's how it works. l make a statement about your past. lf l'm right, you drink. lf l'm wrong, l drink. And no lying. l'll know if you're lying"
He walked over to the furs and Lyonel and Aeron both sat down.
"It was just beautiful Shae's turn, she threatened to carve my eyes out"
For the first time tonight Lyonel laughed. Prehaps this wine thing was a good idea after all.
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Riverlands - 298AC
Lyonel fastened his chest plate. He wasn't really sure if he was doing it right. Looking back at him was a silver Stag with black eyes right in the middle of his chest. His armor was all silver but the he put a baratheon tunic over his armour in yellow and black, including a cape with the famous stag on it. His helm had big antlers representing the animal. It looked almost exactly like the armor his father wore at the battle of the trident, he specifically asked for it to look this way as a tribute.
He thought about his father a lot today. How did he feel before his first battle? Was he as nervous as Lyonel was right now? He had a lump of fear in his throat that he couldn't swallow down. He didn't know what was scarier, the idea of dying or killing. His father liked killing on the battlefield. He wasn't a maniac in the way Joffrey was but he did feel satisfaction after a good battle. He told Lyonel that much.
Lyonel came to the conclusion that he didn't like to watch suffering, his heart was more gentle than his fathers. But perhaps if he actually battled, he would like it. He did love planning battles after all.
As he finished putting his armor on, a slightly panicked Aeron rushed into his tent. He was decked in full armor too. His was also silver with his seahorse sigil on his chestplate, under and on his cape he wore the bright turquoise, the color of the Velaryon's.
"Oh you're already dressed, good"
He walked in and came up to him "The wolf surprised us, we need to go"
He reached his pale hand to check if the buckles on his arms were properly fastened, they weren't, so he helped.
"Nervous?"
Lyonel nodded "A little, yes"
"Good, means you're smart" He chuckled "Your armor seems fine now, grab your helm"
Lyonel listened grabbing the stag helm and putting it on his head, despite the antlers it felt light, he fastened it quickly. He lifted the front of it to reveal his face.
He left the tent with Aeron and they both left to get their horses, on the way they exchanged a few words.
"In case we lose" Aeron said "I wanted to say I'm sorry about Margaery and everything, I didn't get a chance to say it yesterday"
"Don't worry about it" Lyonel cheered "It's not the time"
When they got to the stables soldiers were walking in and out with their horses.
Lyonel couldn't take Penny, she was a travel horse. His grandfather got him a shining white stallion, made to battle, like him. Lyonel did what he could to try and bond with the animal in the little time he got until he realized that the horse was probably trained to like whoever mounts him and dislikes anyone who doesn't. So it did not matter.
When leaving with the horse. He met Aeron and his grey stallion along with Tyrion and his own brown horse.
Tyrion smiled seeing him "Well, well. If not those green eyes, I'd think you were your father in his youth"
Lyonel bowed his head glowing with pride "Thank you Uncle, there's no greater compliment"
"Say your goodbyes quickly, the reserve is waiting Ly" Aeron said getting onto his horse.
Lyonel gave his uncle a sad look "Try not to die Uncle"
"I'll do what I can, you be careful" Tyrion joked.
"I'll just be relaxing in the reserve while you'll be out there on the front lines" Lyonel shot back "You'll come with glory"
Tyrion chuckled "Probably not"
After some reassuring arm pats, Lyonel got on his horse and split ways with his uncle.
The battle was between the Frey Twins and the Inn at the crossroads at the bank of Green Fork. Tyrion would fight on the left vansguard with the clansmen, sellswords and those considered of less danger all under the command of the Mountain. In the middle was Granduncle Kevan with his 10,000 men and 300 heavy horse cavalry. To the right was Ser Addam Marbarnd and his 4,000 knights. He and Aeron were at the back of reserve. It was under the direct command of Tywin with 5,000 men. All together they had about 20,000 men. From the look of the Northern army they only had about 17,000.
Lyonel had repeated the strategy over a hundred times in his head. Tywin wanted to lure the Starks on the undisciplined men first hoping they would overcommit and later the middle would come up to support them. Meanwhile the archers would strike as many as they could. The right would move in after the middle, the reserve would wait longer and until the army was much smaller to attack.
Lyonel steadied on his horse letting out a breath. He was scared for Uncle Tyrion. Even though he was at the back he could see the battlefield well. They were too far away for him to recognize any faces well but he couldn't see anyone is Stark armor that could be Robb, and his direwolf was nowhere to be seen either. He felt something was wrong, where were all the Stark men? He could see Stark flags but they seemed to be more of an alliance pact rather than a certain army sigil. He could clearly see the Bolton's flayed man, the Cerwyn's battle axe, the Karstark's sun and the Hornwood's bullmoose.
The North army sounded a war horn, filling the air with it's deep tone.
This was it, Lyonel thought. His heart started rapidly beating half from excitement and half from fear. He looked to Aeron. His friend had first-hand experience of battle, but even with it he still seemed too calm to him. He knew for a fact the battles he thought before were never to this scale. Westeros had been pretty peaceful since Greyjoy's Rebellion.
The Lannister trumpets responded. Not as effective, happier than the Stark horn.
The left side of the Stark army charged at the left side of the Lannisters. A wall of arrows fired at them from the archers.
Soon a second trumpet sounded and the Mountain charged with his army to face the Stark's. Lyonel couldn't see his uncle in the crowd, he only identified different groups of soldiers by their armor. The only man easily recognizable was the Mountain himself, due to his inhuman height and strength. He was leading the charge fearlessly.
When the two met it all became a mess. It was nothing like the stories, it was so much different. The look of it, the sound of it, it was shocking, brutal and beautiful all at the same time.
The Karstarks put up their shields of spearmen. The Mountains fierce stallion was hurt by one of the spear and started to widly attack the spearman infront of him. They fell and that encouraged the whole army to press onto them.
Within five minutes the Karstark formation broke and the men were freely fighting. Chaos ensued. The Mountain was taking most of the heat, battling three or four men at a time. The battle was a lot slower than Lyonel had expected. He though it would just become a blur but he could still see individual people and horses fighting.
He still couldn't see his uncle and he was growing even more concerned.
Man after man, horse after horse, all started to fall quicker and quicker. The soldiers were silent watching with anticipation.
Then another trumpet sounded and Granduncle Kevan's middle started to move to support the left. The Stark soldiers were thinning out significantly. Kevan and the middle started with the men on the left and circled round to the middle of the Northern Army. They were tearing through them fast and steady.
The next trumpet sounded a few minutes later signaling the cavalry and the right to move. The cavalry attacked after the middle. The Right army moved towards the Northern right army but seeing their dwindling numbers they had already started to retreat back towards the mountains.
Finally the last trumpet played and Tywin looked at all the men surrounding him and nodded.
Lyonel and Aeron shared a look then both put the front of their helms down, covering their faces.
Then they all charged soon after them.
Lyonel could feel the stallion hit the ground with every gallop and hear his own blood flow. The dirt from the ground fell around everywhere as the animals hooves cut through it. His visibility from within the helm was limited to a degree but he could see a good amount. They went along the river joining to assault the left and middle forces. There wasn't much men left fighting maybe 5,000 or so, most retreated back and a large amount laid slayed on the ground.
While running Lyonel caught glimpse of his uncle Tyrion on horseback with Bronn.
He was alive, but holding his bloodied arm. His Uncle followed him with his eyes in concern. He wanted to give him a smile but he wouldn't see it under the helm anyway.
Soon they passed him and Lyonel was renewed with a sense of purpose now that his uncle was alright.
Before he could completely understand it, he came face to face with battle.
We was holding onto Peace Protector for dear life. Men started to run and fight on his every side. He felt like he couldn't trust him own ears. He saw his grandfather run past and cut down one of the Karstark men with a single swoop to his back. His body fell to the ground effortlessly.
Not far away Aeron was doing the same thing, with the skill Lyonel could expect from Uncle Jaime. But he supposed it only made sense since Aeron was his squire for quite a while and learned a lot during that time.
Lyonel was torn, men all around him were dying. The blood soaking into the ground, some still thriving with pain. He didn't want to look, he really did have a soft heart.
But he had to do this. For Myrcella and Tommen, for his mother, for his uncle Tyrion and for his people who would suffer greatly if the North got to the capital.
He was surrounded by Bolton men. He convinced himself to finally fight by rationalizing. The Bolton's had a flayed man as their sigil, they clearly weren't the good guys here.
He had no time to think any longer as one of the Bolton men on horseback rushed at him. He swung his sword and Lyonel managed to block it with his own. Metal on Metal the battle began.
The man fought hard trying to hit him from all angles. They were circling eachother on their horses and blindly trying to outclass one another, their skills seemed to be at similar levels. The man's helm covered less of his face than Lyonel's and he could tell it was a boy his age or just a little older.
As he threw a swing as Lyonel's head he ducked out of the way.
At the same time another man on foot came running and slammed his weapon against Lyonel. Because of the angle Lyonel bend over in, it threw him violently off his horse.
He landed on the grass and to his horror his helm completely fell off, landing a meter away. His armor fastenings were checked but not his helm. He was in such a rush to put it on.
He scrambled to grab Peace Protector that was laying on his side.
The older man who threw him off his horse approached quickly. He was nearly above him now.
Lyonel flipped on his back and lifted his sword as high as he could. He hadn't expected it to work, maybe force the man to back off but it didn't.
The man had no chestplate, Lyonel didn't even notice at first. The straps were cut hastly by some other Lannister soldier, his whole shoulder was bleeding. His sword went right through the man stomach as he bent to strike him. Lyonel's eyes widened and the mans own weapon fell to the ground.
He pulled Peace Protector back and the man blood slipped out. He looked Lyonel in the eyes before collapsing into another body.
Lyonel swallowed hard. So that's how it felt to kill someone. Brutal, harsh and guilty but also satisfying in a twisted way. That look of death. He wouldn't forget it.
Lyonel scrambled back up, his arms shook from the adrenaline and hurt after the fall. He looked over at his helm and wondered if he could reach it.
Another uknown man ran at him, another Bolton. Without his helm he was in danger and at a disadvantage and he knew that. The man attacked him and predictably aimed for his face.
Lyonel fought back the best he could, literally for his life. To his horror the man was a better swordman but he was more aggressive and hot-headed. Lyonel fought he could use his rage to his defeat. He hesitantly searched around to find a solution, and then he saw it.
While he made another swing Lyonel moved back and kept moving until he stood right next to the corpse of one of the dead horses. As the man's sword went down, instead of pushing it back as he was doing the whole time, Lyonel jumped out of the way instead.
The sword got plunged into the heavy leather saddle that the horse had on. The Bolton had trouble getting it out due to the material. Lyonel took the opportunity being the physically stronger one. He knocked the man down to the ground by cutting his side. He screamed in pain and fell over holding the injury.
Lyonel let out a heavy breath. He walked calmly around the man. His heart was going rapid again. He watched the pain on the man's face, there was no coming back from that hole in his body, blood was everywhere. As quickly as possible he hit his sword again on the man's throat. It cut through most of it, nearly decapitating him. He died in a second.
It was mercy for the man, he told himself.
He looked around. Now it was really thin. Most of the fighters were gone.
Then suddenly he heard horse hooves coming near him again. He looked to his right but before he could identify where the sound came from, there was a swish of air and a sharp pain stung on his face. The left side of his face burned with anguish. He didn't dare drop Peace Protector but his other hand quickly grabbed onto his face.
Following it he heard a scream and a thud just a few meters from him. Someone must have avenged his face injury.
He closed his left eye, he wasn't sure if it got injured but it sure felt like it.
He heard a horse again and moved away just to catch a the sea green color with his healthy right eye. Color of the Velaryon's.
"Gods you're bleeding" Aeron said with a tint of concern "grab my hand"
Groaning in pain he took his bloody hand away and grabbed Aeron's outstretched hand, climbing onto the back on his horse. He noticed Aeron armor was slightly dented and covered in speck of red.
Lyonel could barely focus on anything more than the pain. Aeron redirected the horse to retreat. On the way he striked another man down, this one on foot.
As Lyonel looked back he noticed that literally all the Northerns left had retreated. The last few were quickly being killed by the Lannisters.
They had won. That did and didn't bring him satisfaction, it was all very confusing.
The men who had already retreated to safety were sitting on the grass near the river. Drinking and checking their injuries. Aeron stopped his stallion and then clumsily helped Lyonel down.
"He cut you, the side of your face is open" He said.
"Really? I didn't notice" Lyonel replied through gritted teeth.
"I saw you kill that other man, you didn't have your horse so I came for you but then the other guy charged" he explained pretty casually "I threw the fucker off his horse while he swung at you, he could have killed you if he was any closer"
He led Lyonel over to a few nurses who were working on patching people up.
One woman with short red hair and freckles helped him. She gave him some milk of the poppy while she cleaned his wound with water and pressed a cloth to it to stop the bleeding. While she dug threw her accessories, Aeron sat nearby and drank water from his skin.
By then the fight was over and more and more injured men were coming over.
A very worried Tyrion came to check on Lyonel. His own arm seemed pretty bad but it was nicely wrapped up.
"And your eye?" He asked sitting next to him.
Lyonel gestured to the nurse who sighed "The eye is fine my lord, but your eyelid is injured"
He laughed in relief "My eyelids injured"
Tywin finally came with Kevan both drinking from their skins.
He put his hand on his Grandsons shoulder "Have you lost anything?"
Lyonel chuckled "My eyelids injured" he repeated "But my eye is fine"
Kevan smiled "A fine victory" he turned to Tyrion "Your wild men fought well"
Tyrion was very angry, he saw Tywin looking at his newly bandaged arm "Did that surprise you, Father?" he asked "Did it upset your plans? We were supposed to be butchered, were we not?"
Lord Tywin drained his skin, expressionless "I put the least disciplined men on the left, yes. I anticipated that they would break. Robb Stark is a green boy, more like to be brave than wise. I'd hoped that if he saw our left collapse, he might plunge into the gap. Once he was fully committed, Ser Kevan's pikes would wheel and take him in the flank, driving him into the river while I brought up the reserve"
"And you thought it best to place me in the midst of this carnage, yet keep me ignorant of your plans?"
"I am not inclined to trust my plans to a man who consorts with sellswords and savages" Tywin said coldly.
"A pity my savages ruined your dance"
"The Stark boy proved more cautious than I expected for one of his years" He admitted "but a victory is a victory. You appear to be wounded"
Tyrion held his injured arm "Good of you to notice, Father"
"Lord Tywin!"
Tywin turned as Ser Addam Marbrand leapt down off his horse. He dropped to one knee, his armor covered in blood and mud "My liege, we have taken some of their commanders. Lord Cerwyn, Ser Wylis Manderly, Harrion Karstark, four Freys. Lord Hornwood is dead, and I fear Roose Bolton has escaped us"
"And Robb?" Lyonel quickly asked. He still liked Robb and he would have felt pretty awful if he died.
Ser Addam hesitated "The Stark boy was not with them, my prince. They say he crossed at the Twins with the great part of his horses, he's heading for Riverrun"