Chương 53: chapter 53
Brienne did little but think about how she would one day kill Lysa Arryn. She bent her mind to how the Eyrie could be taken by storm, what tactics could work and what wouldn't. She also thought about what Myrcella would have wanted done. No doubt she would wish for her little brother to be safe, so quitting the war was not an option. Brienne would die fighting to preserve the last of Myrcella's kin if need be.
The day of the transfer, they were marched out well past bowshot of the Bloody Gate. After what had happened in the Eyrie, no doubt Ser Barristan was taking no chances. Brienne glared at Edmure as they passed each other, and the heir to the Riverlands had the grace to look down in shame.
The exchange complete, Brienne was immediately given a horse, as were the others, and advised to ride swiftly back to the prepared camp. Upon arrival, Brienne was escorted to a tent and asked to wait for Ser Barristan.
"I need to get a new set of armor; those Vale bastards didn't give us our belongings, filthy thieves," Ser Jaspar groused.
"Not all of us are your size," Ser Theo remarked, "but I'm sure we can come up with something if the Vale decides to march on us soon."
Brienne didn't care if she had to fight in her smallclothes, as long as she got to fight.
Ser Barristan came in, a strange glimmer in his eye – he seemed inappropriately cheerful.
"I am about to bring someone in; please contain your reactions, as we are keeping it quiet for now."
Brienne looked at her commander oddly. Who was he going to introduce them to that required them to temper their reaction. Ser Barristan was not one to say things needlessly, so she paid attention as he opened the tent flap.
"BY THE SEVEN!" Ser Bonifer instantly shouted as Lady Myrcella walked in.
Brienne gasped and felt the ground shake beneath her limbs. How… had she gone mad? How was this possible?
Ser Barristan let out a laugh. "Ser Bonifer, control yourself, please."
"How is this possible?" Ser Lyle asked in bewilderment.
Myrcella raised her hands, gesturing for them to quiet down.
"I pulled the Arryn guard with me for a reason. As we tumbled down to the rocks below, I positioned myself above the guard. This was important for my eventual survival. I clung to him in a crouch, and right before we landed, I threw myself up and away from him with all my strength. That leap from his body must have been enough to save my life. Fortunately, I sustained no serious injuries. I did get a few bruises and scrapes, but I'll take those over the fate of Lord Royce."
Brienne's jaw dropped. Was such a thing possible? Bonifer and Barlow were praising the Seven, Lyle and Japar were ecstatic and speaking of Myrcella's brilliance, while Theo Redstone narrowed his eyes in disbelief.
"Brienne, you are quiet – are you well? Were you mistreated in your captivity?" Lady Myrcella asked with concern in her voice.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "My apologies – I am stunned and grateful for your survival. I… I thought you gone."
"I understand; a change in leadership in times of war would create many inefficiencies, but I will have need of your sword arm soon. The Vale has crossed a line and will need to be punished for their crimes. With how their banners have been called, I can only assume that they will attempt to march on us soon."
Brienne felt strength return to her body. She had a task; she would not fail her lady again.
"What is the plan?" Brienne asked.
"We'll be moving quickly to the Crossroads and use the typical delaying tactics as necessary. Once we have the Frey men with us, we attack the Vale host at night. Our plan will simply be overwhelming and surprising force. Heavily-armored knights on foot will smash through their barricades and pickets, leaving room for our heavy cavalry to sweep into their camp. To maximize morale right before the battle, I will be hiding my survival until the day of the attack, so the news of my survival will be fresh on everybody's mind."
Ser Theo frowned, "Would it not be better to tell everyone now? A retreat in enemy lands may lead to the desertion of men; your survival would end any potential discontent."
"Normally, I would agree," Ser Barristan said, "however, the men are not fearful, they are angry. It was all I could do to stop them from charging wholesale into the teeth of the Bloody Gate."
Brienne heard Myrcella mutter something under her breath but couldn't quite make it out.
"Lady Myrcella, normally your stratagems are more complex; this seems almost simple," Ser Barlow commented.
"It is, and we will be outnumbered. I am counting on you to showcase why the Stormlands are the very best. I am counting on the Arryn knights to be unprepared for an assault by an outnumbered foe. Night assaults have incredible potential to confuse and break the enemy, but they require some coordination. Given that, we should keep it simple."
Lady Myrcella's voice steadied the room as she went over the final points to keep in mind for the upcoming battle, each detail meticulously laid out for clarity and precision. As she spoke, the air was thick with concentration, every participant hanging on to her words. It was then, when it felt as if the room itself was holding its breath, that she broke the tension with a nod – a silent signal that it was time.
"The hour grows late, and preparation is key," she announced. "Equip yourself with arms and armor, and coordinate your troops. Be ready when the time comes."
The majority rose, a sense of shared purpose binding them, to get their equipment and organize the various soldiers for the upcoming battle. Myrcella had told them that, whatever they could do, theoretically the Arryn host could too, so they had to ensure the camp and the men were ready for anything.
Soon it was just Ser Barristan and Brienne alone with Myrcella. She wasn't sure what to say but felt something needed to be said.
"My lady… did you know you would survive?"
Myrcella hesitated, before looking her in the eye. "I will sound arrogant for a moment, Brienne. I did. I have supreme confidence in my ability to succeed at what I set my mind to. Did I know for certain that I would survive? Of course not, but I had a plan, and I executed it. Your next question is likely to ask me why I didn't say anything to you. For one, as I said, there are no guarantees in life. And two, you and the other Stormguard members reacted to what you believed was real. If you had hope, if you seemed to take my death without concern, someone may have thought to check if I truly died."
Brienne looked at her lady and then took three rapid steps forward and embraced her in a hug.
"Brienne!"
"Forgive me, my lady, but I had to touch you to believe it was true. Your death practically destroyed me – please do not let me face such a thing again."
Myrcella looked at her with a look of… almost curiosity. "I will do my best to avoid near-death experiences whenever possible."
She would have to be satisfied with that. She allowed a broad grin to dominate her face. Myrcella was alive!
***
Another battle was looming, and Ser Davos felt the familiar twin feelings of apprehension and anticipation. The war council had a new face, one that the King clearly had mixed feelings about. The brother of Prince Doran Martell was a man of dark reputation. An exceptional fighter, but he was also skilled with poisons and was said to cavort with men and women throughout all the Seven Kingdoms. He was sharp-witted and apt to jest at the expense of others, but seemed keen to come to grips with the Lannisters.
Everyone was on edge, least of all the Red Viper of Dorne. Word had been spread by Ser Barristan, accusing Lady Arryn of violating guest rights and murdering Lady Myrcella. He also claimed she had been denied the right to trial by combat. Both King and Hand looked grim over the accusation from a legendary man known for his boldness and honor in equal measure. Stannis had sworn to get to the bottom of these accusations, once the war was done.
"Is all prepared?" Stannis asked.
"It is, Your Grace," Lord Stark answered. "The Lannister host continues forward, and battle will begin on the morrow if he continues to advance at his pace."
"What does your son say of the Lannister host?"
"The Marcher Lords are with Tywin, and he says they are battle-ready; they are quick to respond to his ambushes, and despite the casualties seem to have no fear of lashing out at my son's small band, to their own detriment. In fact, they remain eager to jump at every opportunity to strike back. The Lannisters are more cautious, overly cautious, and quick to retreat. He believes their morale teeters on collapse. They do outnumber us, but not significantly."
Stannis nodded. "Then we end this here. I will hold the center with the Lords of the Narrow Sea, alongside Prince Oberyn and his mercenaries. The Northern cavalry will take the left, and the Riverland knights the right. Both groups are to charge at any weakness; if none appears, you will strike all the same. We have more horse, and once either flank has broken them, we will finish the Old Lion and then march for King's Landing."
Davos thought it a good and simple plan. In Westeros, knights ruled the battlefield. Their side had more of them; that should work in their favor. The small addition from Dorne helped even the raw numbers somewhat, but they still needed the enemy to break.
Prince Oberyn smiled at the gathered lords. "My lords, it is truly an honor that you trust me with the safety of your King."
Umber laughed. "More like, our King wants you where he can see you."
"As to that, well, I just believe I would be better suited in a different capacity. Lend me some of your knights, and I will ride off before the battle and circumvent it entirely. It is Tywin Lannister's habit to command the reserve. I want him. For Elia. As the battle begins, my riders will descend upon him and throw their army into confusion," Oberyn promised.
"More like, run off with them and sit and do nothing, like your brother," Lord Glover growled.
Oberyn stared at him. "You doubt my honor?" He laughed. "I do not blame you, but do not doubt my resolve. It was on that man's orders that my sister and her children were murdered. I have waited almost two decades for my vengeance. I would stake my everything on being given the opportunity to gut him."
"Give him the chance," Ser Patrek Mallister spoke up, "and allow me to go with him for the honor of the Riverlands. The Lannisters butchered our people, violated our women, and tortured common and high alike. If he can find a way to get to the Old Butcher, I'll gladly follow."
Stannis still looked hesitant, but then Lord Stark spoke.
"I saw the bodies of Rhaenys and Aegon. She was stabbed dozens of times and little Aegon's skull a red ruin. I'll never get the sight out of my eyes. They were kin to Prince Oberyn – if he can obtain his vengeance and aid in the battle, give it to him."
"I will do as my lords advise, but know this, Martell – should you betray me, I will have your head. You will be given no more than an additional 300 knights from Mallister and whoever else wishes to lend you any. Your task will require stealth, and Tywin is known to keep a sizable reserve, so you will be outnumbered."
Oberyn grinned. "Good, I like a challenge."
The meeting adjourned, and Stannis bade Davos and Eddard to remain behind.
"Reports have that the Reach host under Orton Merryweather has still not moved toward Kingswood to cut off Tywin. What do you make of this?"
"From what I understand, he is no one's idea of a commander. I suspect he does not act without orders from Highgarden," Stark replied with a grimace. "I suspect every raven we send to him is then sent to Highgarden, and then Highgarden sends a response, and only then Merryweather acts. Ravens can occasionally be delayed or lost, further delaying."
"Or he's been unmanned by the Kingspyre battle," Davos offered as an alternative.
Wildfire was deadly dangerous, and having so many of your men consumed by it would shake the most daring man – and no one claimed Merryweather was daring.
The King's jaw clenched. "Send word again – he must cut off any retreat. Should he not, the Old Lion can slip our grasp. He's close enough that he cannot turn away and outpace us if we wish to pursue. I want this war done with so the men can return home for a harvest before winter. If this conflict does not end soon, more will starve than die by swords and spears."
Eddard gave a grateful nod. Davos knew winters in the North were hard. Stannis had also faced starvation in the siege of Storm's End; he knew the cruel pangs of hunger. The King and Hand were united in their desire to end this quickly.
The King looked at Eddard. "We had planned for Robb to lead the reserves again – should we keep that plan or have him go with Oberyn? Given the nature of what he hopes to do, those wolves of yours could be a great boon."
Eddard frowned. "Someone needs to command the reserves, someone who has good instincts for this. Since you wish to hold the center… I can assign Lord Glover or Lord Bolton to the task, but Glover would be too eager, and Bolton too cautious. Hmm, let me think on the matter, Your Grace, and return to you in a few hours. We can have Ser Davos command the reserves if necessary."
"Me? I know naval battles better than those on land."
"You are dependable, quick-thinking, and can anticipate issues. I've watched you, Onion Knight – low your birth may have been, but I would rather have you by my side than many of more esteemed lineage," Eddard Stark replied.
Davos wasn't sure what to say to that.
Luckily, he didn't need to say anything, for Stannis seemed done with the topic. "Pray to your Gods, speak with your son, or just think it over; let me know your decision when you have made it, Lord Stark."
"Yes, Your Grace."
***
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