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Chapter Fifty-One: The Riverlands under siege
The northern army, twenty-five thousand strong, was camped on the eastern bank of the Green Fork, near the Twins.
The air was thick with the scent of campfires and damp earth, and the sound of soldiers preparing for battle echoed through the night.
Inside the command tent, Daeron Targaryen sat at the head of the war table, surrounded by the lords of the North.
Behind him stood Ser Arthur Dayne, ever-vigilant in his duty as Kingsguard.
But Rhaella, Viserys, and Daenerys were not present.
Despite their status as the King's kin, the northmen did not yet trust them.
They treated Rhaella with the respect due to a dowager queen, and they acknowledged Viserys and Daenerys as Daeron's blood—but they were still Targaryens.
And the North had fought to rid Westeros of a Targaryen king once before.
Daeron understood. Trust was earned, not given.
---
The tent flap opened, and Ser Brynden Tully strode inside.
The Blackfish had wasted no time proving his worth.
Since meeting Daeron at Moat Cailin, he had quickly become an invaluable commander, leading a hundred scouts to track enemy movements and harass Lannister forces.
Tonight, he brought dire news.
Brynden tossed a blood-stained Lannister sigil onto the war table.
"My outriders killed a dozen Lannister scouts under Ser Addam Marbrand," he reported. "We also shot down two ravens flying from the Twins. If they carried messages to Tywin, he won't be receiving them."
The lords nodded in approval, but Brynden's expression darkened.
"This war is going worse than we thought," he said grimly.
A heavy silence fell over the tent.
Ned Stark leaned forward. "Tell us."
Brynden exhaled, his voice like iron scraping against stone.
"Ser Jaime Lannister defeated Edmure Tully under the walls of Riverrun. My nephew is now a captive, along with many of our finest knights."
Robb clenched his jaw. "And Riverrun?"
"Holding," Brynden admitted. "Lord Tytos Blackwood managed to lead some survivors back inside before the walls closed. The Lannisters have begun a full siege."
The lords muttered among themselves.
Daeron remained silent, absorbing every word.
"And Tywin?" Ned asked.
Brynden's expression turned grim. "He led the second army, larger than Jaime's, and crushed the men Edmure had scattered along the Riverlands to guard against Gregor Clegane's raiders. They never had a chance to regroup."
No one spoke.
"The Lannisters have taken Harrenhal without a fight," Brynden continued. "And now Tywin sits at the Ruby Ford, cutting us off from the Riverlands and keeping an open route to King's Landing."
Daeron let the weight of Brynden's words settle.
House Tully was already on the verge of collapse.
Its armies were shattered. Its heir was captured. Its castle was besieged.
And Tywin Lannister had positioned himself perfectly to block any attempt to save them.
The Riverlands were burning—and the flames were spreading fast.
---
Daeron dismissed the other lords, only his war council made up of his most trusted commanders stayed behind.
"The others take those Lannister bastards," Greatjon Umber growled. "We have to act now!"
"Aye," Maege Mormont agreed. "If we wait, Riverrun will fall."
"But how?" Rickard Karstark asked. "We need a proper plan."
Daeron studied the war map, feeling every pair of eyes on him.
Finally, Robb Stark spoke.
"We should take most of our cavalry and cross the Green Fork using the Twins," Robb suggested. "We ride west, strike fast, and catch Jaime Lannister unaware."
"If we defeat him and lift the siege of Riverrun," Robb continued, "we gain not only the Riverlands, but the riverlords can regroup at Riverrun."
Daeron nodded slightly.
It was a bold plan, but not a reckless one.
"And the rest of the army?" Ned asked.
"A second force, mostly foot soldiers, should march down the Kingsroad," Robb explained. "This will keep Tywin's army pinned at the Ruby Ford. He won't dare move while we threaten his position."
Brynden rubbed his chin. "This is the best plan we have."
The room murmured in agreement.
Until Greatjon slammed his fist on the table.
"Wait." the giant of Last Hearth boomed. "You're forgetting something—Walder Frey."
The room fell silent.
Everyone knew what that meant.
The Twins were the key to their plan—but Lord Walder Frey controlled them.
The Freys had sat idle throughout the war, neither supporting nor opposing the North.
And Walder Frey never gave anything for free.
"He'll bleed us dry just to cross his bloody bridge," Greatjon warned. "If we give him gold, he'll want land. If we give him land, he'll want a betrothal. And even if we give him all of that, there's no guarantee he won't turn on us the moment it suits him."
"We don't have time for this," Karstark said. "If the Freys are a problem, we should march on Tywin directly."
"Aye!" Greatjon agreed. "Destroy Tywin first, then we can deal with Riverrun."
"No," Daeron said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"We will cross the Twins," he said. "And we will follow Robb's plan."
The lords exchanged glances.
"And how do you plan to deal with Lord Frey?" Greatjon asked.
Daeron smiled.
"I will handle it."
---
Later that night, Daeron stood at the edge of the riverbank, looking out toward the Twins.
The twin castles, one on each side of the river, stood tall beneath the moonlight.
A fortress built for greed, not war.
Beside him, Ghost sat silently, watching.
"You're certain about this?" Ned's voice came from behind him.
Daeron turned.
His uncle stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"The Riverlands need us," Daeron said simply.
Ned studied him carefully.
"You do what you must," Ned said. "But watch yourself around Walder Frey. That man is as slippery as a snake and twice as venomous."
Daeron nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
Ned exhaled and placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder.
"Get some rest, Daeron," he said. "Tomorrow, you go to treat with a vulture."
Daeron nodded.
Tomorrow, he would face Walder Frey.
And before this war was over, the old man would learn—
Fire and Blood.