The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 27

Renly Baratheon

All of the nearby lords were on their feet, heads turned as they looked off towards the hidden left side of the battlefield. In front of their headquarters, tens of thousands of men battled against the combined Lannister and Tully forces. Yet all of that noise was drowned out by the sounds of cheering coming from the left.

“Just what is that cheering?!” Mace Tyrell demanded. “Our left wing is getting even louder! This can’t be good!”

“REPORT!” The messenger that appeared then was a mess, eyes wild as he sprinted over before hastily taking a knee. He wore a green tabard decorated with the sigil of a red huntsman. “House Stark has managed to penetrate deep into our left wing! They have broken through our back line and are targeting our headquarters directly!”

“What?! What of Lord Tarly?!” A nearby Lord asked.

“Lord Tarly was preparing to fight when I left. However, men from House Umber and House Stark were both closing in on his position!”

“J-Just what is Lord Randyll doing?” Mace Tyrell ground out, as even Renly found himself lost for words. “Robb Stark is a green boy, is he not?! The Starks were supposed to be severely outmatched in this battle!”

“Damn Northmen, who knows what schemes they came up with.”

“Perhaps Eddard Stark trained his heir better than we anticipated? Could Robb Stark also have an eye for strategy like his father?”

“Bah! He probably sat at the back, and let his northern muscle do the work.”

“No, er- I personally saw Lord Stark leading from the front as I left, my Lords.” The messenger’s words didn’t earn him any favors, as the Lords glared at him in irritation.

“Send out scouts, and have them assess our left wing.” Renly decided. “Just to be safe, have some of our reserves move left in case the Northerners succeed in flanking us. We still outnumber the enemy, and need not attack. This battle is leaning heavily in our favor, and if need be, we only need to defend in order to win!”

Just as he finished speaking, Renly spotted a knight hastily running towards their group. He looked worn and dirty, clearly having worn the same outfit for quite some time as he traveled. It meant that he wasn't from their battlefield, likely coming form further south.

“I come with an urgent report, my Lords!” The new messenger arrived, falling to a knee on the ground before them. “I come with a message directly from King’s Landing!”

“King’s Landing? Have our men managed to take the city already?”

“And its contents?” Renly asked calmly, feeling his stomach twist in worry from some reason.

“It comes from Lord Vyrwel.” Lord who? The messenger swallowed thickly. “Lord Peake has been killed, having been slain when Lord Stark managed to sally out with some of his men. The city’s defenders have done so several times already, and many of our men have already deserted or been killed by them! Lord Vyrwel reports that we are no longer able to besiege the city effectively, and has pulled the army back as to prevent any more losses!”

Shock and outrage marred the faces of the surrounding Lords.

“What are our men doing?!” Mace Tyrell roared in outrage. “That damn Lord Peake, how could he lose his head?!”

“There is more to report!” The messenger was sweating profusely. “Lord Vyrwel believes that we have considerably underestimated King’s Landing’s strength, and that Lord Stark may have enlisted tens of thousands of men into the city watch!”

“Ngh! That many?!”

“Did he seriously build his own army?!”

“With those numbers, they could attack us here! Hit us from behind while we fight Tywin in the front!”

“Maybe we should retreat, your Grace?” The Lord who asked was sweating in fear. “With Lord Randyll struggling, our position cannot be sustained. Fighting the Lannisters and Tully forces are already—”

“We will not retreat! Do not let yourselves be shaken!” Renly called out over the chaos, pushing as much authority into his voice as possible. “We shall establish a new left wing of ten thousand men! Order all of our reserves and any uncommitted men we can spare from the battlefield to—”

“I will be their commander.” A new voice spoke up suddenly.

The knight that came forward then made Renly pause, as the nearby Lords also eyed him in apprehension. Loras had changed much since his injury. And it wasn't just his personality that changed radically, but appearance.

The dazzling Knight of Flowers that made maidens swoon was no more, instead looking like a pale husk of a corpse whose veins writhed purple under his skin. It was unnatural, and even more so was the weight that came with his presence, a darkness that settled in every room he entered.

But he was still committed to his cause. Fanatically so, and would succeed no matter the cost.

“Loras.” Renly eyed his lover. “Are you sure?”

“I will die before I let any of the Northern scum reach you, your Grace.”

Renly didn’t respond immediately, instead looking over the killing fields. The battle in front of them had become nothing but a melee against the Lannisters and Tully men, filled with the screams of tens of thousands of soldiers. No clear victor was in sight, as there were simply too many fighting to efficiently gain the upper hand.

It would take days of battle to efficiently stop Tywin Lannister at this point. He had thought that a grand melee was what they needed, allowing them to leverage their superior numbers, but it had backfired spectacularly. They needed this battle over and done with soon, but things would only get worse with Lord Tarly struggling.

His plan had failed. He hoped to kill Tywin Lannister, and if that didn’t work out quickly, then take King’s Landing and force them to surrender instead. Now it seemed that his plan to take King’s Landing was an abysmal failure, and that their army might actually lose.

“Report! I have an urgent report!” A new messenger raced their way on horseback, yelling as he ran. “Lord Tarly has been killed! Our left flank has begun to rout, and what men that remain fighting are being thoroughly annihilated!”

“W-What?! Lord Randyll is actually dead?!”

“Report!” They could barely react before a new messenger arrived. “Five thousand Northmen have broken off and are headed our way from the left!”

“Loras.” Renly spoke calmly before anyone could react this time.

The captain of his rainbow guard bowed. “I will defend you, your Grace!”

“Your Grace, what should we do?” Mace Tyrell’s face was red, but not from anger, but instead from the stress and fear of the situation. They had arrived at this battlefield expecting victory, and if not a quick one, then a gradual battle that would see Tywin Lannister laid low. Instead, they had already lost their best commander, and Lord Tyrell’s son had just been sent off in a desperate bid to try and stem the tide of Northmen headed their way.

“Order all commanders,” He began slowly, as the nearby Lords listened carefully. “To begin organizing a retreat. We shall try and save as many of our men as possible.”

/////

A/N: Updated battle map

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Hadrian Snow

To say their surprise attack went well would be a severe understatement. Robb had played his part perfectly, and he might have even won the day without their intervention. But Harry was here to ensure House Stark’s victory this day.

It required major help from House Reed to pull it off, whose men were experts in the making of boats and rafts due to their home being located in the swampy Neck. Then came the painstaking process of laboring day and night, as the men under Harry’s command had to build enough makeshift rafts to use for the coming battle.

They were flimsy makeshift constructions, built out of cut down trees and topped with moss and dirt to give the horses something to stand on. In fact, many of the barges were half submerged already, and would fall apart once the battle was over.

But they had served their purpose, as barge after barge lined up, one after the other, as their riders arrived at the battle. It was like a starter pistol went off then, as the men sprung forward like bats out of the gates of hell. Within mere moments, the back line of Tarly’s formation was in shambles, as fresh mounted troops numbering in the thousands had gained a foothold.

It was only once they had wiped out enough men and were able to effectively organize that Harry began issuing orders.

“Have several hundred men break left, and support those men of House Glover!” Harry ordered over the chaos.

“Yes, my Lord!” A knight of House Reed complied.

He raised his greatsword high, getting the attention of the rest of his men. It was time to end this battle. “Our target is Lord Tarly, commanding from the back of this Reach army! After we take his head, we will go on to capture King Renly Baratheon, and win this battle in the name of the North!”

“HOOOAH!” Thousands of men let out a great roar, their morale skyrocketing at his proclamation.

The battle was as good as theirs, and all the men knew it. Their cavalry then began the charge straight through Tarly’s back line, killing hundreds, while also causing chaos that suited their needs perfectly.

Part of warfare was psychological, and cavalry suddenly appearing behind an enemy formation and massacring them would cause the men to panic. Already, the Reachmen were yelling in terror over each other while some were even routing. While Robb’s army crashed against them from the front, Harry hit them with cavalry from the rear, giving them the illusion of being boxed in. He could only imagine what those poor foot soldiers from the Reachers were feeling.

“Tarly banners are in sight, my Lord!” A nearby knight called out.

Harry looked above the soldiers, indeed seeing the green banner with the red huntsman raised high where the Tyrell left wing headquarters was located.

The front ranks of their cavalry were already attacking, from what Harry could hear up ahead, fighting their way in to Tarly’s main camp.

“Be careful, my Lord!” One of the Stark men warned. “The Reachmen here are tough- AGH!”

Three armored knights wearing the tabard of House Tarly managed to get through, killing the man who was just talking as they charged directly at him. However, Harry didn’t even bother to raise his sword, as the woman at his side took care of them.

Val’s spear moved faster than most could process, piercing the armored knights perfectly in their armors’ weak spots. She was a wildling spearwife after all, having battled practically since birth, and was one of the more fierce fighters Harry had ever met.

They were dealt with swiftly, as the Stark men-at-arms gaped in astonishment at her skill. Enough men had already questioned Val’s presence at his side, not liking that there was a woman on the battlefield, but it seemed those inquisitions would soon come to an end.

They had fought far enough in that Harry could see Randyll Tarly then, heavily armored with a huge greatsword in hand. And not just any greatsword, but one made of Valyrian steel. He recognized the make after seeing House Stark’s own ancestral blade, Ice, so many times.

“Surrender, Lord Tarly!” Harry called out. “The battle is lost!”

“That standard, you are not Robb Stark.” Tarly eyed him calmly, seeing the Stark banner raised at his side. “You must be the bastard, Hadrian Snow. I will never surrender to a bastard, especially a cowardly one that uses cheap tricks to win in war.”

Is he trying to get a rise out of me? It was certainly possible, as the man likely wanted him to charge ahead foolishly so he could kill him. He was underestimating him.

“Hold it right there, bastard!”

It was like a freight train had slammed through Tarly’s men in that moment, horses letting out cries as knights yelled in shock. A humongous man, nearly as big as the Mountain literally burst through the ranks of Reachmen. He wore heavy armor that was beaten and scarred, with several arrows sticking out of his body from all angles. In his hands he wielded a colossal greatsword that looked less like a sword, and more like a misshapen slab of steel made for killing.

It was Greatjon Umber, one of the strongest fighters in the North, and someone Harry had come to know over the years as he traveled through the North.

“Lord Tarly… is mine.” The Lord of House Umber rumbled heavily, having fought through so many Reach formations to get here. He was bruised and battered, and the men behind him were little different, each giants in their own right as they looked as beat-up as their liege lord.

“Hah! You look like shit, Greatjon.” Harry laughed, even as men nearby cowered at the intimidating sight. “Maybe you should take a nap while I take Lord Tarly’s head?”

“Little shit.” The Lord of Last Hearth growled. “After I kill this southron shite, I’ll show you who is really the strongest man in Westeros!”

“You’re welcome to try.” Lord Tarly pivoted to face the Greatjon. “Although I doubt you will last long.”

The Greatjon ignored the taunt, instead raising himself high as he focused on his enemy. “Tell me, Lord Tarly, do you understand the might of a man?”

“Of course I do.” Randyll Tarly replied. “To be a man is to win in battle, to achieve victory at any cost. And life is nothing but one battle after another, a series of foes that have been beaten and slain by my blade. It does not matter if it is Robert Baratheon, or Robb Stark, or even my own son standing in my way, I will slay them all to claim victory!”

The Greatjon was silent for a moment before roaring with laughter. “Hah! Well said! But it seems you know nothing of a man’s might!”

“What did you say?” Tarly growled.

“Listen well, Tarly. In the north there exists a wall. A wall seven hundred feet tall and made of nothing but ice. On one side of that wall exists civilization as we know it, and on the other lives men more savage than you can possibly conceive in that head of yours! And every once in a while, some wildling chieftain decides to climb it. Of those that do, less than one in four men make it over that wall, but they are the most savage and strong bunch of them all!” The Greatjon’s voice was loud and low. “And I have personally slain hundreds of those monsters! For House Umber stands as the first line of defense in the north after the Night’s Watch!”

He charged forward then, slamming his humongous greatsword into Tarly’s own. The strike was so powerful that the Lord of Hornhill and his horse was sent skidding backwards several feet. The nearby knights of the Reach, who were already worried, became terrified.

“Lord Tarly!”

“S-Shit! How can a man be that strong?!”

“Ngh! To See Lord Randyll pushed so hard…”

“Do you understand now, Randyll Tarly?!” Lord Umber roared. “For when those wildlings climb the Wall and invade, House Umber stands firm! And when we need it most, House Stark has always come to our aid! We owe the Starks a great debt, and I will personally present your head to Lord Robb after I take it!”

“You can try!” Randyll Tarly snarled. “After I kill you, Umber, that bastard over there is next-”

Harry’s horse charged forward, as Tarly turned to face him, hastily holding his greatsword up with two hands to block his blow.

“Bastard! I told you Tarly is mine!” Greatjon yelled at him.

“I was here first.” Harry grit out between blows, as the Reach Lord battled him.

“Fuck it!” Lord Umber nudged his horse forward, gesturing at the onlookers around them. “You lot waiting for you balls to drop? Kill these Reach fuckers already!”

The standstill came to an end then, the men-at-arms nearby throwing themselves at their enemies with a roar. Meanwhile the Greatjon joined Harry in his onslaught against the Lord of Hornhill.

“Cravens!” Tarly spat.

“This is your own failure, Lord Tarly.” Harry replied calmly, his sword slamming down in a way that rattled the Reach Lord. “Allowing your own headquarters to be attacked from two sides. Your defeat is all but assured. And to call us craven? I assure you that our martial honor is leagues better than that of your ‘King’, who had his men murder Oberyn Martell.”

The man was enraged, and managed to briefly disengage from the Greatjon before practically throwing himself at Harry with a wild strike. His anger had off-balanced him, Tarly’s pride refusing to admit defeat, and an emotionally unstable opponent was always an easier one.

He swung late on purpose, right as Tarly’s swing missed the space where his head was, as Harry’s blade made contact with Tarly’s arm mid swing. He cut the limb clean off at his forearm, sending the man’s hand and greatsword flying into his grasp.

The Lord of Hornhill roared in pain and rage, but that was when the humongous figure of Greatjon Umber descended from above with his own blade, piercing him at the shoulder and cutting straight down into his heart.

“HOOOOAH!”

The Northmen in the vicinity let out a simultaneous roar of triumph at the scene. But Harry wasn’t paying attention to them, instead looking down at the priceless sword that had literally fallen into his lap.

Heartsbane. A greatsword of Valyrian steel that was the ancestral blade of House Tarly. I think I’ll keep it… at least, for now.

Their battle for the right side of the battlefield had been effectively won at that point, with the Reach commander killed and the remaining Reachmen routing. Soon enough, Robb appeared at the scene as his army ravaged the defeated remnants of Tarly’s men.

“The battle for the right wing is ours! Lord Tarly is dead!” Robb exclaimed loudly, as the men cheered. “We will now flank the main Reach host and target Renly Baratheon! The battle is as good as ours now, men of the North!”

/////

Tyrion Lannister

“My Lords, the cheering from the right is getting even louder!” A lookout exclaimed.

“Yes, we are not deaf, you fool.” Tyrion retorted. “How about you send some men to go find out what is going on?”

The cheers and roars of what could only be victorious men was getting louder by the minute, to the point that it drowned out the some-hundred thousand men that were stabbing each other to death on the main battlefield right in front of the Lannister headquarters. I just pray to the seven that it’s our side who’s making all that noise.

“Report!” A messenger arrived wearing the colors of House Stark in that moment. “Our right wing has broken through and taken Lord Tarly’s head! Lord Robb states that his men will soon turn left and attack Renly’s position directly!”

“What?! He actually managed to kill Randyll Tarly?”

“W-Wait, you said he’s attacking Renly’s headquarters now?!”

Even Tyrion couldn’t manage a word as the nearby Lords reacted, his eyes wide in utter shock.

He had some faith in Robb Stark-more than the other men from the Westerlands-but no one had expected this outcome. Especially against a military opponent like Randyll Tarly, who was known to be one of the greatest commanders in Westeros. I can only guess we have you to thank for this, Hadrian Snow.

“Alert all of our men at once!” Kevan hastily ordered from his brother’s side. “Tell them that the Starks have won on the right, and that the battle will soon be ours!”

“Yes, my Lord!” More messengers were dispatched to the entire battlefield then, with the aim of raising the army’s morale.

Tyrion happened to glance over at his father then, only to see that Tywin Lannister was unusually quiet. His expression wasn't as harsh as it usually was, oddly seeming contemplative.

Tyrion and his uncle, Kevan, looked at one another before looking to the Lord of House Lannister. They expected him to give new orders, yet none were forthcoming. Luckily, it seemed that Kevan got the nerve to speak up first.

“Brother?”

“This is the moment I have been waiting for.” His father didn’t seem to be talking to them in that moment, as much as he was talking to himself. “The triumph that House Lannister needs to ensure it stands tall for another thousand years. All that is left… is to grasp it in my hands.”

Lord Tywin Lannister then turned to them, looking to the surrounding Lords who were ready to receive new orders from their liege. “Reorganize our reserves and prepare to launch an all-out assault to break through. We will bring Renly Baratheon to his knees, and take his head before Robb Stark can reach him.”