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The Crippled Wolf-Stark SI: Ch.48
🕑 Added 2025-04-27 19:27:57 +0000 UTCChapter 48
CREGAN STARK
This was unnatural. Cregan was self aware to accept it, as he shifted slightly to the side, letting the soldier’s blade pass right by him as he cut off his head with a single swing of his own blade, and yet despite this being the twentieth guy he had cut down, his body showed no sign of slowing down.
As the soldier's body fell, Cregan looked up and saw that the battle was nearly won. Stannis’s men, who had been on the precipice of victory before his arrival, were now being pushed back, retreating to the seas where they hoped to seek some sort of salvation.
“FIGHT!” “FIGHT!” he heard someone scream, as his eyes narrowed towards one corner of the battle lines where the enemy still held strong, and the reason for it was obvious.
For that part of the offensive was being led by none other than Stannis himself. And the Lord of Dragonstone still stood strong, holding the line even as his men abandoned him and ran back to the shores left and right.
And this was it. Cregan knew that he could end it all, then and there, and so fuelled by his newfound strength, he pushed forward, cutting through the battlefield, and rushed towards the Lord of Dragonstone, who was fighting a Lannister Gold Cloak.
And as Cregan was a few paces away from him Stannis cut down the man, and gazed towards him. Those eyes flaring with rage at his sight.
“YOU!” he snarled, in rage, a bit of surprise evident in his tone as he looked him in the eye.
“You are the one she warned me about,” and Cregan had an inkling, just who she was referring to as he reached into his pocket, and showed him the red stone he had taken from Melisandre.
“Well, then you should have listened to her,” and as he saw the stone, his face hardened, as he raised his blade, preparing himself to attack.
“I will have your head boy,” and Cregan’s hand over his own blade tightened, as he snarled back.
“You can try,” and at that Stannis pushed forward, and Cregan found himself a bit surprised by his speed, for the man must have been fighting for far longer than him, and yet he was still faster than any man he had yet fought, as he pushed his blade towards Cregan’s neck.
Aegon moved quickly, as he parried the blade to the side and tried to move in, and kick at his legs. Yet, he saw through his attack and jumped back, and tried to cut his neck.
Cregan twisted his neck, turning it at the last moment as Stannis’s sword hit his helmet, pushing it off of his head, as it fell to the ground while Cregan pushed his blade through the small gap between the chest plate and shoulder guard, and felt it pierce through his bone as Stannis grunted in pain.
“AGHHH!” his sword arm fell, as he lost power in that arm. He tried to swing it using his other arm, but Cregan moved quickly, leaving the sword in his shoulder as he grabbed his arm and twisted it with both his hands.
“AHHHH!” and Stannis Baratheon screamed as his sword fell to the ground, as both of them fell back, pushing each other back.
Cregan was quick to steady himself as Stannis finally reached for the blade stuck in his shoulder, and took it out as Cregan reached down and picked up his blade. It was heavier, and the feel of it was different than his own blade, which was now in Stannis’s hands.
The battle around them had drawn to a standstill, for theirs was the battle that would decide their fates. Both of them encircled one another, as Cregan tried to get a feel for the blade and get used to its weight, as Stannis glared at him with sheer rage.
“You have no idea what you are doing, boy? I am the rightful heir to my brother’s throne. Kneel and I will spare you, your miserable life,” and Cregan scoffed.
Cregan scoffed, and though he was not wrong, the truth was that the man had lost any and all sympathy the moment he had killed his own brother.
“You say that, yet you are the one who had him killed,” and the man ground his teeth as he shook his head.
“Lies! That was but a divine punishment, for even the Gods wished for me to replace my brother so that I could lead us in the battle against the darkness,” and Cregan had rested up enough, and so had Stannis, who pounced at him.
“You are nothing more than a kinslayer,” and the man ran at him and swung down his blade, and Cregan once more jumped parried the strike, the vibrations of it coursed through his entire arms, as he pushed back the blade gaining an opening as he swung his blade straight at the man’s neck.
“GUGH!” and the sword cut through flesh and bone, as Cregan found himself showered with blood, as Stannis’s head rolled to the ground, and his lifeless corpse followed soon after.
The battlefield turned silent as Cregan stood there, supporting himself using the sword as he saw men walk back, forming a circle around him. Cregan saw the fear, and the admiration in those eyes.
He saw them looking to him as he walked upto Stannis’s lifeless head, and raised it in the air.
“Your King is dead!” he announced as men gasped, the declaration and the truth settled in.
“Kneel and you shall have mercy,” and the men began to run, dropping their blades. Others knelt down, as the Stark and Lannister men all cheered.
All of Stannis’s men either ran away or bent their knees. All of them except one.
He still stood there, all by himself, still holding his sword, as Cregan looked him in the eye and instantly recognized him as Davos Seaworth.
“You are a brave and loyal man, Ser Davos. Kneel, and you will have mercy,” and the man ground his teeth, refusing his words as he stared him in the eye.
“I will the moment you tell me what you intend to do with his body and his heir,” and Cregan raised an eye as he answered.
Unlike your lord, I do not intend to punish children for the sins of their fathers. Shireen Baratheon will be afforded all mercy privileges, lest she is insistent on following her father’s legacy,” and he saw those eyes light up, and those shoulders sag in relief.
“And what of his body?” he said, pointing towards Stannis.
“He will be burnt, as per the customs of his religion,” and finding his answers satisfactory, the man knelt down on one knee.
“On those terms, you have my surrender....”
0000
BRYNDEN TULLY
He had never thought that the first funeral in years to happen in this castle would be for his niece, yet the Seven had taken her from them before her time, and without Cat, the world was worse for it.
Her death had sombered her children, bringing them together as Sansa tried to keep them together, slowly and surely coming into her role and duties as the eldest daughter. The young daughter had been unsolable, and it was only the tiring sword practices that kept her energy down, for otherwise she had tried many a time to escape the castle and go to the Eyrie to avenge her mother.
The entire continent was a mess, one that reminded him of Robert’s rebellion, but the rest of the kingdom was not his concern. His main concern was his home and the people inside it, and thankfully, he had a solid plan to protect them against the treasonous host of Renly Baratheon.
His host was supposedly a hundred thousand strong, yet his own scouts put it at roughly sixty thousand. Far less than the numbers claimed by the man, but substantial enough that only an idiot would underestimate them.
Summer Knights they maybe but there was strength in numbers, and the host had entered Riverlands and was now only one hill away from them.
“Accorn Hall has fallen,” his nephew lamented, and seeing him prancing around like a prick made him rue wasting away his life in the Vale, because otherwise he might have been able to drill some sense into the boy infront of him.
“Lord Smallwood has bent the knee to Renly Baratheon,” and it was a shame, but something that he had expected.
“And it’s all because of you! Had you allowed me to leave with our gathered host to Lord Smallwood’s aide, we could have stopped Renly Baratheon in his steps, and maybe this entire war would have been over by now,” and if only wars were so simple.
“You must stop with this cowardice. His host may scare, but I am the future Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. I must protect my lands,” and hearing those words, filled with naivety.
“I will face him at High Heart...” and he finally had enough as he turned his back on the window, and faced his nephew.
“If you leave. You will not only get yourself, but all the fools who follow you into battle slaughtered,” he lashed out, trying to make him see some sense. His face flushed, as he looked him in the eye.
“I am not scared of some Summer Knights,” and such a taunt would be well worded coming out of the mouths of a seasoned knight, not a greenhorn like Edmure.
“You are a Summer Knight, you fool!” he wanted to slap him, yet he held his hand as he walked forward and looked down at him.
“Renly Baratheon has sixty thousand men while we have but eighteen thousand. Our greatest defence right now is our walls and our rivers, and we will use them until the Lannisters and the Starks have come to our aid, so that we can encircle and put down the traitor in one strike,” and Edmure’s nostrils flared because of the insults.
“You will not talk to me like that. I am the future Lord Paramount of the Trid...”
“Future!” he cut in, reminding him of his place.
“And I will pity these lands the day my brother breathes his last breath. But until he is alive, you are but the heir, and shall do as you are told,” and he had no retort, as he snarled, and walked out of the room leaving him alone to stare out of the castle, at the host preparing itself for battle.
In the face of Renly’s sixty thousand men, they had but eighteen thousand and even if one of his men was worth two of Renly’s they were still at a massive disadvantage.
It did not sit well with him to abandon his leal lords like this, yet he had to do what was necessary because there was but one reason that Renly had ridden to Riverrun rather than Kingslanding.
It was the girl sitting beside Cat’s daughter in the garden down below. The Princess and the Future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Myrcella Baratheon. The young Princess had been distraught by the loss of her father and brother, and would pray day and night in the Sept for the safety of her mother and her sister.
She was young, dutiful, intelligent, and the lynchpin keeping together this unlikely alliance between the Starks and the Lannisters, for they were fighting this war to protect her claim.
And if anything were to happen to her, they would lose this war that instant and their lives soon after.
“My lord,” and he was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he missed Vyman coming into the room.
“I knocked for some time, but there was no answer. I wouldn’t have dared if the situation was not urge...” and he stopped the old Maester from apologising further, as he prompted him to continue.
“What happened?” and the master reached into his pockets and took out two scrolls and passed them to him.
“A missive came from the Twins, Robb Stark is complaining that Walder Frey is being unreasonable in his demand for toll,” and leave it to the Freys to make his blood boil in rage, and he still wondered why his brother had not done something to curb Walder Frey’s attitude.
He took the missive and unfolded it, and as he read the demands of the Lord of the Twins, he had a desire to bash his head in.
“A marriage,” he gasped, and if it were any other time, he would have ridden out with his men to put the bastard in his place, but they had need of Robb’s men. They had need of them urgently.
“Yes, he has asked that the young Lord marries one of his daughters, or that he marries the Lady Sansa to one of his sons,” and he would die before he let Walder Frey do that to his niece and nephew, wars be damned.
He had already let Cat down once, and he had no intention of doing so again.
“Bring me my brother’s seal. It is time the late Walder Frey learns his place,” but Vyman was not convinced.
“My lord, is this the right time to antagonise him,” and there was hardly a wrong time to put down a man like Walder Frey, but he had no choice.
His brother had let the man do as he pleased, and now they were paying the price of his inaction.
“The Freys are our bannermen. And it is time they learn their place,” and he had just the plan for it. Walder was a fearful man and had only dared to do so because his brother had let him do as he wished.
“I intend to write to Seaguard, Oldstones, and Fairmarket and have their lords march their hosts towards the Twins, and lay siege to the castle, lest he see reason.
And the old Maester’s eyes widened at his declaration.
“My lord, such an action could turn him into an enemy,” and he scoffed at the notion.
“Walder’s a calculating man. The entire Riverlands stands with us, and when he sees his two towers surrounded by twenty thousand men from both sides, he will give Rob the passage at once,” and Vyman was not convinced, not used to his methods of dealing with such problems.
“I know that this is not the approach my brother would have taken, but these are times of war, and we must show strength, lest people like Walder Frey will descend upon us like vultures,” and as Houster’s brother, it was his duty to protect him and his kin.
“We need Robb and his men, but we also need to show such people that the power of these lands still resides here at Riverrun, and not in the castles of these pesky little lords,” and if the Maester had any reservations, he did not voice them.
“I will bring you the seal,” and that would be enough.
“I plan to open the dams tonight,” he announced as Vyman nodded gravely, the reason for it already clear to him.
“Renly’s armies are a few days' ride away from us. Tell the men that after tonight, no one will leave Riverrun without my permission,” and the old Maester nodded.
“I will have your message passed, but I think it would be best if you addressed the men yourself in the Hall,” and that was a sound suggestion.
“Has there been any word from Kingslanding?” he asked, and the Maester shook his head.
“Not yet, my lord,” and that was worrying, for there had been word from the capital for a few days now, and that could mean only a few things.
“If anything comes, you must tell me....” yet before he could finish, the doors swung open as an acolyte rushed into the room, much to his anger.
“How dare you...”
“My lord! My lord! It’s the capital! The battle is over,” and his words died in his mouth as his heart turned cold.
“We have won....”
0000
Comments
travis btmb
Tftc
Doubledoor
I'm actually glad Stannis died such a straightforward death, I feel like a large part of the fandom overtly glorifies him simply for being neither an idiot nor completely insane.
