Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Sarsfield
12th Month of 298 A.C. Sarsfield
King Aegon VI Targaryen
It had been some time since they had fought truth be told, Aegon was not counting the skirmishes with outriders as proper fights, Tywin Lannister had been playing a tricky game, with his shadowing and movements forwards and backwards. Aegon had to give the old man credit, he might be losing this war, but he was not going down without a fight. Aegon suspected that there were still at least twenty thousand Lannister men in reserve somewhere, waiting to spring up on him and his men when they least expected it. That he had had to divide the army into divisions to prevent it from splintering was something that he was slightly annoyed about. Karstark and Bolton were at one another's throats, and so he had sent Karstark off with Robb, keeping Bolton with him, he did not trust Domeric, the events of Winterfell still played in his mind sometimes, and the echoes of a nightmare long past were still there. Regardless, they were winning this fight, but they needed to finish it, and quickly.
They had ridden outwards, determined to take what castles they could, but had found them largely empty, at least that was what the reports had said. Aegon had been fighting off the dreams that plagued him at night, dreams of a death so cold it could not be real, of a girl with haunting eyes, who pleaded with him to free her. He did not know what either represented, but he knew he could not mention them to anyone, not after what had happened with Arya. Arya, her ghost hung over him like a shadow, never leaving, never turning, and he regretted the urge that had allowed him to have her ride with them, it was never safe now. Never. He did not know how he would look Sansa in the face and admit that he was responsible for Arya's death, gods the thought was tormenting him. Still, he could not focus on that now, there was a war to fight. Sarsfield was before them, but the man in charge would not move from his position. There were archers on the walls, and men were preparing to ride out of the gates. A curious thing that, though Aegon thinks it is because of the dragons. They are not big enough to ride yet, but he knows that they are a threat to the enemy. A threat he fully intends to use.
Ser Arthur, as Lord Commander of his Kingsguard is at his side, as they sit and wait, watching as the horns are sounded and drums are beaten. The battle is to begin, the left battle under the command of Lord Domeric Bolton. Domeric is a strange one, he had always been quiet and reserved, but since his father's death he had become even more quiet and secretive. It had come as a huge surprise when he had gotten into that brawl with Karstark. Harrion was a giant of a man, taller and bigger than the Greatjon and Smalljon, and yet Domeric had given the man a black eye and a few broken fingers. It was a strange thought that. Aegon watches as the left battle pushes forward, the infantry go first, the fodder for archers on the walls though they are far away, the infantry before them wearing the arrow of Sarsfield tremble before them, and Aegon watches as the crush begins. A smile plays on his lips underneath the stifling helm he wears, with its dragon wings and encrusted rubies. His father had worn something similar he has been told, but he wore it because it seemed right. The left battle has overwhelmed Sarsfield infantry, and whilst Aegon is relieved at that, he suspects there is more to come.
Sure enough, the gates of the castle creak open and a stream of men come charging through. Sellswords most likely, Tywin has enough gold to pay for them, and as such it seems that he will use them and break them on the soldiers coming toward them. Aegon watches as the left battle engages with these new foes, and then at a nod from him, the signal goes out and the right battle under the command of Beron goes out. Beron named Lord of Bear Island after his father had died, following one fight in the West, is another who is filled with rage and grief. Aegon watches as the men under his friend's command charge and crush into the press of the left battle and the sellswords. He wonders if more men will come from Sarsfield, he desperately hopes so, he wants this over and done with, and he wants as many Lannister men slain as possible. He will tear that house down and raise a new one in its place. Perhaps he will make Torrhen Karstark Lord of the Rock, now wouldn't that be something. The fighting lurches and shifts, and eventually, Aegon makes a decision. He whispers some words, and his dragons take flight. Urrax, the dragon of ice flies forward roaring defiantly, ice flying from her mouth, turning the fighting men down into nothing more than statues. Statues that he will use for his own purposes when they are done here. Barrax comes then, blue flames lick the statues and turn them to dust, and create new ones. The dragons fight and bark and roar, and men die screaming, or do not die at all, they cannot scream where they are going. He takes some delight in that, and when the archers begin firing their arrows, it is Deinor the white dragon, the biggest of them all who comes forth and tears them all down, parts of Sarsfield fall to the flames, and to his men, emboldened by the dragons. Aegon watches all of this and smiles, and when the flag of surrender goes up, he calls his dragons back to him and spurs his horse forward riding in triumphant a King to the very last. Lord Sarsfield is there before him, alongside his family, Aegon acknowledges their oaths of fealty and then dismisses them from his sight. He will speak with the girl, Sarsfield's daughter later, for now he shall rest, he gives his men freedom of the castle and the surrounding lands and smiles at the cheers that that elicits.
Much later, when his men are asleep or wenching, and the castle is settling down for the night, Aegon sits in the lord's solar, Ser Arthur sat in front of him, and guards outside, his dragons flying around the room, like little children, his children. He sighs and then speaks. "Tell me Ser, what do you make of our progress so far? We hold Sarsfield, and its mines, we hold Pendric Hills and Nunn's Deep, and we have cut Tywin Lannister off from his main allies on the border. Tell me, do you think he will surrender?" He knows that it is a naïve hope, but it is a hope all the same, using the dragons had cost him dearly today.
Ser Arthur is silent for a moment, his face scrunched in thought, his response when it comes is detailed and well thought out, as always. "I think that Lord Tywin will be regrouping Your Grace. He is not the sort of man to stop at the slightest inconvenience, and thought you control most of his lands, or hold them in some shape or form, many of his lords remain alive and well. So long as they are alive, Tywin Lannister will remain confident in his chances of resuming this war."
Aegon snorts then. "Ah Ser, I had feared you'd say something like that. Pray why could you not have lied to me and said Tywin would come beginning with a bowl in his hands as he ought to?"
Had he made that joke to anyone else, they would have been scampering for his forgiveness, Aegon knows, and he resents that, Arthur though merely looks at him and then grins. "I am not in the habit of lying Your Grace. And besides, telling you that would've made your head grow bigger than it already is. And we cannot have that, now can we?"
Aegon roars with laughter, spitting wine from his mouth. He presses a hand to his chest, and continues laughing all the while Arthur sits there grinning. Eventually, when he has calmed down slightly, he looks at his Lord Commander and says. "I never knew you had such a sense of humour Arthur. However, did you refrain from cracking jokes all those years?"
"With great difficulty Your Grace." Arthur responds.
Aegon nods and then turns his thoughts to another matter. "Tell me Ser, we are winning this fight against Tywin Lannister, but there is more to come. I do not think that old fool will go down as easily as we might hope, and as such I would ask you something." He pauses, and then continues. "Do you trust Ser Jaime?"
Ser Arthur is silent for a long time, and in that silence Aegon thinks he hears rather than sees the years that have passed, he knows some of Ser Arthur's story, he joined the Kingsguard the year Duskendale happened, at the age of twenty, the finest knight in the realm, someone who had grown up around Aegon's own father, and one of the few people to really know him. He had been there when Prince Rhaegar had absconded with Lady Lyanna, Aegon's parents bringing war to Westeros for infatuation and prophecy it seems, still, the man has lived through much, and now, well now Aegon needs his advice. Eventually, Ser Arthur responds and his voice is even and measured. "I think the man has proved himself with his actions in holding Riverrun alongside his brother, fighting at Tumblestone, fighting in the northern Westerlands. He has done much and more to prove himself to you. I think he can be trusted Your Grace."
Aegon nods in acceptance, he had thought as much but he had wanted to get Arthur's view before making any proper decisions. The next thing he wishes to discuss is something that is equally if not more pressing. "I only have two Kingsguard knights at present Ser. And whilst there are guards for me, I do not know whether continuing the Kingsguard would be a good thing. The false Kings both have Kingsguard, would it not be better to keep guards?"
"Whilst I understand where you are coming from Your Grace, I would argue that keeping the Kingsguard firmly in place, and looking for five more members is a must. The Kingsguard was created by the first Aegon, and is very much a Targaryen institution. Removing it would make people question you." Arthur responds.
Aegon thinks on this and then asks. "And who out of all those who are fighting alongside me would you consider worthy of taking the white cloak?"
"Ser Henry Rivers for certs, the man fights with passion and is loyal without a fault. I would also recommend a Northman, perhaps Brandon Liddle? The lad fights just as well as you do Your Grace, and he has a good mind for strategy." Ser Arthur says.
"So that would take us up to four, anyone else?" Aegon asks.
Arthur shakes his head. "No Your Grace, I think you should decide for yourself."
Aegon merely nods, feeling himself beginning to drift off, the battle took more out of him than he first thought. Still, he is the King and he cannot sleep, not yet anyway, there is one more thing he needs to decide on. "Tell me Ser, when Casterly Rock falls what do you think will happen?"
"Your Grace?" Ser Arthur asks sounding uncertain.
"The myth, the one Ser Jaime told us. If the Rock were to fall ghosts would come forth and there would be more death. Do you think it is true?" Aegon asks, hating the fear creeping into his voice, he is the King, he should not be scared of gods damned ghosts.
"I do not think so Your Grace. It is a tale, and all tales come out of a need to spread fear." Ser Arthur says.
Aegon nods. "Very well, get some sleep Ser, we shall leave early tomorrow."
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AlexanderBlackfyre
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