A Young Girl's Game of Thrones by Failninjaninja

I had just saved my grandfather from some supernatural creature that could cut through steel with ease. That wasn't important, not right now. I needed to check on Brienne. She was my most able bodyguard – she couldn't be dead. She just couldn't be.

Blood seeped out of the diagonal slash through her helm. I couldn't tell if she was breathing, due to the armor she was wearing. I undid the strap and pulled off the helmet. There – she was breathing. Her face was covered in blood. The wound extended from her cheek, up through the base of her nose, the edge of her eye socket, and then through part of her forehead. Fortunately, it appeared the wound wasn't too deep; otherwise, she would already be dead.

"Fetch me fire-milk, needle-and-thread, and bandages, NOW!" My composure may have slipped a bit.

The others around me were still confused and alarmed, made worse by the fact that Stannis was attacking. Obviously, the timing of the attack and this assassination attempt were linked. It wasn't hard to figure out that the R'hllor worshiper who had access to illusion magic was likely the source of this shadow assassin.

Ser Barristan touched my shoulder, "Myrcella, I should go lead your men."

"Yes, of course, see to it," I replied.

"I'll leave Ser Arys here with you." He limped out of the tent as servants came in with the items I had requested as well as a Maester. The Maester immediately checked on Lord Twyin while I quickly poured the fire-milk into Brienne's wounds. The pain made her moan and regain consciousness.

"Don't speak, don't move – especially your face. I am well, and you will be too." In a louder voice, I called out, "Milk of the poppy, fetch it!"

Brienne obeyed and remained silent. She kept the eye that had the wound near it closed; however, I could see fear in her other eye.

In the tent, there was still chaos. I could vaguely hear my grandfather snapping out orders, and then most of the people in the tent left. I knew there was a battle going on, but that seemed completely unimportant at the moment.

No, wait, it was important. If the battle went poorly, they would need to move Brienne. The Maester knelt next to me.

"A vicious wound, but I do not believe it fatal. I can do the stitching, my lady."

I was tempted to do it myself – someone else could get it wrong – however, the Maester had a silver link on his chain, so he should know his craft. Brienne was administered milk of the poppy to ease the pain as her face was stitched shut.

I stood up; I had done what I could. Ser Arys was looking at me. "Princess… I mean, Lady Baratheon, how did – it was so fast. What was that?"

I arched an eyebrow at him, "I know as much as you do, ser. I assume the rest of my commanders have gone to lead their soldiers."

"Yes, my lady."

The shadow creature was an alarming development. The only thing that seemed to work on it was Valyrian steel. It seemed corporeal – could a sufficiently strong person tackle it? Hold down its deadly shadowy sword? Would fire work against it? Did it need to breathe like a normal creature? Why had my dagger worked but nothing else? I had a lot of questions and no good answers.

Some things I could infer. One, there had to be some limitations. Why else would they time an assault right when the creature attacked? If they had the ability to create more at will, they could be sending these assassins out every night and just butcher every commander, noble, and knight they liked – or didn't like, as it were. Since they weren't doing that, the act probably came at a cost.

The other inhibiting factor could be distance; our armies were close together after all, and only then did it strike. I would need to learn more about this R'hllor belief system and how it intersected with Asshai. Asshai had what was referred to as "shadowbinders." The texts that I had read indicated that these people were more myth than fact, and that it was just superstitious nonsense. There was also no tie to R'hllor, though again these were second and third-hand accounts in older books. I would need to get some hard information, the sooner, the better.

That could wait though; my priority would be to move Brienne east to where my camp was, and from there I could assess the battle. The Maester was diligently working, so I ordered Ser Arys to find some men to procure and carry a stretcher.

"I shouldn't leave you alone," he protested.

"Ser, I've given you an order. The faster you see to it, the faster we get to a safer place. Your tarrying puts me in more danger."

He bowed and left. He was a good knight, but I'd be happier with more of my Stormguard with me instead. I looked to see how the Maester was doing, and he while he worked slower than I would have, he was diligent and wasn't making any errors.

By the time he finished, Ser Arys had returned with several men. They lifted Brienne onto a stretcher, and we began our march. I couldn't see much of how the battle was going, but the Lannister position wasn't being overrun. As we moved further toward the Stormland camp, I could see that my men had been doing well.

The enemy formation was in disarray, and their knights had taken severe casualties. First in a trickle and then in a flood had the enemy rushed back across the trident. My men were harrying them in hot pursuit. I took Brienne to my command tent and arranged for a cot to be brought in.

Eldon Estermont bowed. "Lady Baratheon, Ser Barristan is in the field, and I'm having riders keep me posted on regular intervals. We have beaten the enemy back, and they are fleeing across the Trident. Ser Barristan is harrying them."

"I'm glad to hear it. Please send a rider to Ser Barristan to continue with the original plan of assault. Have Lord Peasebury hold the crossing points and not join in the pursuit. Tell him to begin normal camp construction of anti-cavalry on the northern side of the trident, just in case."

"You don't think Ser Barristan will be successful?"

I eyed him, "I've been taught that one should always plan for eventuality. Please see to my orders, Lord Eldon."

He bowed and obeyed. I would listen in on what news arrived. It appeared that Stannis had erred here. A stroke of fortune, since the war situation had grown grim. Joffrey and Cersei were utterly unfit to continue ruling. The only bright side was that I could not see anything else they could do to possibly make our situation worse. After the war was over, I would need to speak with grandfather and review our options. Unless Joffrey had a dramatic change in temperament, he simply could not be allowed to rule.

Having saved Tywin's life should earn me some political capital. The Crownlands had a paltry army compared to the great houses like Baratheon or Lannister, so if we decided between the two of us that Joffrey must abdicate, then we could enforce our will easily enough. But that had to wait until we were victorious.

News arrived in a steady stream. Kevan was holding the center against the Knights of the Vale. However, on our western flank, the Northerners had crossed the river and were mauling that section of the Lannister army. A troubling development, but not one I could fix. I trusted that Tywin had ample reserves to at least not allow disaster to overtake us.

***

Preparing for battle was stressful, and Robb was glad that he was commanding the Smalljon and not the Greatjon, his father. Seeing other battlefield commanders had assuaged his concerns about his ability to lead. Even the Blackfish had trouble with impertinent sub-commanders. Lord Ardrian had loudly voiced his disgust that the Lords of the Narrow Sea would have to follow the lead of a Tully.

The other commander under Robb's command was Harrion Karstark, the eldest son of Lord Karstark. And, of course, his brother in all but blood, Theon Greyjoy. All the way back in Winterfell, Theon had objected to being fashioned a suit of plate mail, saying he was a Greyjoy and chainmail would be fine. Robb was thankful to have managed to convince him otherwise.

It probably helped that Mikken had fashioned a squid emblem on the chest of the breastplate. Now Theon looked a proper Westrosi Lord, ready for combat.

"How do you think this will play out, Stark?"

"I don't know. Father is unhappy about giving up our position. He told me that there are only a few decent places to cross and that it will be a challenge to bring our host fully over and into the fight."

Theon was silent for a moment, squinting to see anything in the shallow light of near dawn. They knew the Stark soldiers would be attempting to wade through shallow waters around now. In other places, hastily constructed barges were pushed across.

Trumpets broke the silence as the sun began to crest over the horizon. Now, battle had begun, and their vision would improve. Despite the logjam of the crossing, many of the Northerners had been able to cross unimpeded and were now engaging with the Lannister foot. It was difficult to tell how the battle was going, but as they pushed further away from the Trident, that could only be a positive.

In the center, the Vale lords had created some space but had not truly broken through after crossing. Lord Nestor Royce was a proud man, who had asked for command of the van and had been given it.

"We should move closer; your father will have already crossed the river, and it won't be long before most of the Stark forces have crossed and engaged."

Smalljon, near as big as his father, rumbled in disagreement, "We are the reserve force. What if the center has need of us?"

"We caught them with their breeches down; if we just sit back and wait, we'll have no glory," Theon countered.

Robb held up his hand for quiet. "We'll advance at a slow walk; Umber is correct. Stannis's reserve is also limited, and he may have need of us."

The line advanced as the battle continued to unfold. From their vantage point on the western flank, they could not see all that was happening, but Stannis was committing his reserves toward the east. That troubled Robb. The North seemed to be winning on their end – several of the Lannister units were disintegrating and retreating – but no sign of their heavy cavalry had shown. Had they gone to aid the Stormlords or had the assassination ploy gone through successfully as the Red Witch had advised – that could explain the Lannister's not being more prepared.

Then he saw it. He saw the wedge of heavy cavalry smash into the North right where they had finished moving over most of their men. Now the center was pushing back the Vale lords and several units swinging to the west. The Lannisters were going to trap the bulk of the North on the southern side of the Trident!

"We ride; we need to hold the crossing! With me, for the North!"

"Winterfell!"

"Karhold!"

"Greyjoy!!"

Theon's cry was the only one not echoed by others as a thousand heavily armored men of the North rode toward the enemy. They rode quickly to make it in time, but the Lannister forces were in firm command of the southern crossing as they continued to batter the North. His father must have seen what was happening, and a fierce battle between the two armies ensued. He pushed his horse into the trident and saw the enemy he was facing.

The man was riding the largest stallion he had seen, and still it looked tiny. The man was bigger than even the Greatjon and Hodor. Robb pushed forward into the shallow water and the two groups of mounted warriors clashed at low speeds thanks to the churning currents. Lances were tossed aside as men began to lay about them with sword, axe, and hammer.

Grey Wind howled and was soon among the Lannister horses, sending mounts rearing and fleeing. Theon gave a whoop and brought his sword crashing down on a man with a golden wreath as his heraldry. The blow was checked by a shield and then the two began to dance, their mounts jockeying for position.

Robb could only glance at that battle before focusing on his own. He descended upon a knight who was trying to control his spooked horse. Robb's blade lashed out stabbing his blade into the neighing horse's neck. The horse tumbled into the water, carrying the knight with him. Robb was past him, and no doubt the man would be trampled by the riders behind him.

But that single moment of distraction cost Robb as he took an axe to his shoulder that spun him around and nearly dislodged him from his mount. He clung on and battled the attacker, his sword delivering powerful blows and battering the enemy's helm with ruthless efficiency.

A roar drew everyone's attention as the massive form of the Mountain smashed all who challenged him into the Trident. The sword that he wielded one-handedly was a normal man's great sword, and he often toppled an opponent from their horse with a single blow. The physical power of Gregor Clegane was horrifying. A dismounted knight had tried to rise, and the great weapon had smashed down on top of his helm with a sickening crack.

None wanted to approach the giant knight, and where he went, the Northern forces backed away. Occasionally a brave fighter would try to impede him, but the Mountain dispatched all with ease. Robb saw Theon go down off his mount and rode to his side, laying about him with the sword. The enemy forces were no longer all knights, and many less heavily-armed Lannister levies were in the fight. Several with just gambeson and some in chainmail, they came with spear and axe.

Robb managed to force space for Theon to stand up in the swirling waters. A spear took Robb's mount in the chest, and Robb had to dismount from the now fatally injured steed. This was no longer a cavalry formation; more and more horses were dying. The heir of Winterfell tried to catch his breath, but the enemy was relentless. Spears struck at him, and he deflected one only to be driven back by a heavy-set man, who struck him in the chest. His armor held, but the treacherous footing caused him to fall into the water. Before the man could capitalize, Grey Wind had bit into his calf, pulled the spearman down into the river, and then ripped out his throat. Robb fought to his feet and saw the Mountain finally get pulled off his horse – and yet, impossibly, he kept killing just as effectively.

Robb could feel the battle turning; the Mountain seemed invincible, and men were battling each other to get away from his ferocity. More and more Lannister men were in front of him, and he had no idea of their own numbers in comparison. The Mountain needed to be taken down.

"Theon, we need to stop him," he pointed at Ser Gregor.

"Damn you, Stark, you don't aim low. I'm with you," Theon answered.

They pushed toward the Mountain, Grey Wind howling and snarling and driving the few mounted foes away or sending the horses fleeing in terror. As they drew close, they saw the Smalljon roar out his own challenge and come to blows with the Mountain.

Robb winced as he saw the Umber heir get absolutely manhandled. The Mountain took a blow from a sword onto his chest willingly, and then grabbed Umber's arm and pulled him down into the water. He smashed the young heir's helmet with the hilt of his blade, before pushing down with his left hand, forcing the Smalljon's face under the water.

Other Lannister knights moved up to the Mountain, as did more levies. The Northern soldiers under Robb's command were ready to break. Robb smashed into one of the knights around the Mountain and pushed past, trusting Theon to have his back. Ser Gregor Clegane watched him approach, and Robb did not hesitate; every second was precious.

***