Campaign of Thrones is a mega-narrative campaign we’ve been waging over the last 3 years. We began with the Escape from King’s Landing and then the story branched-off from the books based on the results from each matchup. The campaign has led to the creation of over a dozen What If? scenarios for the site, which were especially needed at the time when CMON releases were few and far between (and I‘d already created every custom scenario possible from the books and show). Though the battle reports have slowed down considerably since 2023, we’re still on pace to finish our story before GRRM publishes A Dream of Spring. I’m hoping to do about 6 – 7 more battle reports to tie up the main story threads (well, maybe not Tyrion & Daenerys).
Most of the battle reports and What If? scenario documents are accompanied by original writing that set the stage, summarize the results, and propel the story. Below is a collection of much of that writing, as well as links to each battle report from 1 to 20. Please note that some custom scenarios have been changed (some drastically) since the battle was originally played / report written.
Escape from King’s Landing
Cersei Lannister has just brazenly ripped up the late King Robert’s decree. Ned Stark is surrounded, having just been betrayed by the conniving Petyr Baelish. The Lannisters have ordered their guardsmen to establish complete control over the capital and take Ned's daughters hostage.
Victor: House Lannister
Characters Killed: Syrio Forel
Battle on the Green Fork
After agreeing to wed one of Lord Walder Frey's daughters, Robb Stark and the majority of his army raced west to liberate Riverrun. Meanwhile, between the Kingsroad and the Green Fork river, Roose Bolton was charged with meeting the bulk of the Lannister forces and delaying them. The Stark army marched throughout the night to take the lions by surprise, but the Lannisters were able to form their lines and meet the wolves head on.
Victor: House Stark
Tywin Lannister sat alone in Lord Bolton’s tent. His mind raced as he pieced together the disastrous events of the day. How could he have been so utterly defeated? Tyrion and his foolish savages. Tywin was able to speak to some Red Cloaks as he was being bound and delivered to the Stark camp. From what they witnessed, Tyrion grabbed onto a floating corpse and escaped down river. Cowardly imp. As for the Mountain, he was surrounded by Stark Sworn Swords, but cut his way through the throng and fled into a wooded area with other routed Lannister men.
Roose Bolton entered the tent. Tywin reluctantly stood to greet his captor. "Wise of the boy to let a more seasoned man lead his army."
Roose poured two glasses of spiced wine. He placed one cup in front of Tywin, then sipped from his own. "He is leading, elsewhere. In fact, I just received this from the young lord." Roose held up a rolled piece of parchment.
"If I am to be traded for Eddard Stark and his daughters, let us begin negotiations promptly."
"Pray tell," Roose thinly smiled, "why would the crown exchange Lord Eddard Stark for a dead man?"
"I am not dead," Tywin spoke defiantly, "and the man fool enough to kill Tywin Lannister will never have another peaceful sleep for the rest of his short life." He swallowed. "That said, I am much greater as friend than foe. I’m the wealthiest, most well-regarded man in the Seven Kingdoms, and I can raise any man up to whatever station he desires. Remember, Lord Bolton: a Lannister always pays his debts."
"So I've heard." Roose took a step towards the Lord of Casterly Rock. "Claws are no concern after the lion loses its head. Robb Stark sends his regards." Roose thrust his dagger through Lord Tywin’s heart and twisted.
Characters Killed: Tywin Lannister
Battle in the Whispering Wood
Victor: House Stark
Characters Killed: N/A
Battle of the Camps
After Jaime Lannister’s defeat at the Whispering Wood, the Stark army raced south to liberate the Tully’s famous stronghold, Riverrun, from the besieging Lannister forces.
Victor: House Stark
Characters Killed: ‘Blackfish’ Brynden Tully
The Ruin of House Lannister
This narrative report ties together the story threads from the previous battles and moves the story forward. Several possibilities were created for each story and weighted die rolls determined the outcome.
Characters Killed: Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon, Myrcella Baratheon, Tommen Baratheon
King-Beyond-the-Wall
Victor: Mance Rayder
Characters Killed: N/A
The Great Khal
Drogo recently wed the exiled Princess of Dragonstone, Daenerys Stormborn, and her brother Viserys wants nothing more than to use this arrangement to take back the throne his ancestors controlled for 300 years.
Victor: Khal Ogo
Characters Killed: Viserys Targaryen, Khal Drogo
The Skirling Pass
Scouting the mountain passes beyond the Wall, a group of hardened rangers led by Jon Snow and Qhorin Halfhand find themselves being hunted by Rattleshirt and his bloodthirsty band of followers.
Victor: Free Folk
Characters Killed: Qhorin Halfhand
The Kidnapping of Margaery Tyrell
After the Stark's victory over the Lannisters, and the subsequent ignoble downfall of the lions, peace seemed to be within grasp in the Seven Kingdoms. Renly Baratheon quickly snatched that notion away when he claimed the Throne for himself. He decried his older brother as a villainous zealot, saying that Stannis upon the Iron Throne would be handing Westeros over to the foreign Red Woman and her barbaric fire god.
The Lady Margaery Tyrell was Renly's queen. She was beloved by the people, especially those in King's Landing. He had the backing of House Tyrell, along with most of the mighty lords of the Reach.
A cold war had settled in the east, ready to explode at a moment's notice. Stannis' blockades were very successful, cutting off supply lines throughout the crownlands and squeezing Renly and his accomplices.
Then, surprising word reached Dragonstone: Queen Margaery was seen at Rosby and its neighboring village, offering much needed food and supplies to lords and lowborn alike. The news reached King Stannis in the Chamber of the Painted Table. He paced, running his hand along the coastline.
"Ser Andrew will lead the mission," Stannis declared. "He has the right temperament and can be trusted to show restraint. We will capture the Lady Margaery and bring her to Dragonstone. She will learn of the great lie and the harm it's caused my realm. And all Westeros will see that Renly's love for her is as false and ineffectual as his rule."
Victor: Stannis Baratheon
Characters Killed: N/A
The wheelhouse looked like a pin cushion. Fortunately, the R’hllor fanatics obeyed Andrew Estermont's orders and refrained from lighting their arrows when targeting the fleeing carriage.
One of the wheelhouse drivers screamed in agony. He had fallen and broken his leg about 30 yards back, just before the wheelhouse ground to a halt. Ser Andrew cautiously approached the cart, hammer in hand. The second driver was slouched over in his seat, dead, arrows in his throat and chest. The horses slumped awkwardly, both dead, unable to collapse to the ground due to the straps and buckles.
Andrew swung open the door. Queen Margaery smiled brightly at him, as though he were a chaperon escorting her to a royal feast. Her three handmaidens sat nervously, heads down and hands in their laps. "Good day, Ser," Margaery greeted him. "I presume you will be taking us to Dragonstone, to Lord Stannis."
"King," Andrew corrected.
"King Stannis, of course," Margaery amended. "Before we go, may I inquire about my brother, Loras?"
Andrew felt compelled to answer her. "The Knight of Flowers and his guard are unaccounted for."
Margaery beamed. "Let us depart." She reached her hand out to Ser Andrew and stepped out of the ruined carriage.
Two months later…
Stannis and his advisors huddled over the Painted Table, examining a large map of King’s Landing. "The towers could reach the walls by the Old Gate if we…"
The princess Shireen burst into the chamber room.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded King Stannis.
"She shouldn’t be locked up in the dungeons," Shireen declared.
"A very nice dungeon," countered Davos Seaworth.
"Not fit for Lady Margaery," argued Shireen. "It's not right. She could stay with me."
"How is it that this girl has been locked away in my dungeons for two months and yet is somehow more beloved than me by my entire court?" Stannis asked.
"Even under the sea, roses smell sweet, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh," sang Patchface.
"How did he get in here? Get him out of here," Stannis ordered. The king addressed his daughter. "It seems as though you’ve been spending a great deal of time with the false queen. Be content that I’m not putting an immediate end to that."
Shireen was vexed. Melisandre smirked at the defiant young princess. When the sunlight caught priestess' red eyes, they looked as though they were aflame.
"She’s our enemy, Shireen. But not all enemies remain foes forever," said Davos.
Tears welled in the princess' eyes. Stannis gritted his teeth. "I will be glad to hear more from you on this matter… after the war."
"And when will that be?" Shireen asked.
Stannis looked at the map on the table, at the crude siege engine markers that surrounded the city walls. "Soon," he answered. "Soon."
The Mountain’s Men
From the moment Renly Baratheon stole the Iron Throne, King Stannis sent many ravens to Winterfell to inquire about the whereabouts of Eddard Stark. Maester Luwin always replied the same:
“Lord Eddard remains in the Riverlands searching for his youngest daughter, Arya, who was chased from King’s Landing by the Lannisters. He will return only after she has been found. Lady Catelyn governs the north in his stead.”
The Night’s Watch caravan Arya Stark joined had been difficult to track, having ventured off the kingsroad after a deadly run-in with Gregor Clegane. Since the Lannisters’ crushing defeat at the Green Fork, the Mountain had scrounged together enough lost Lannister and Clegane soldiers to form his own sellsword company, unimaginatively called the Mountain’s Men. The newly formed free company reeked havoc in the Riverlands; burning, killing, raiding, defiling every villager they crossed. The Mountain’s Men were proving to be even more vile than the infamous Brave Companions, and Gregor expected to soon have enough treasure to pay for passage across the Narrow Sea and begin his life as a mercenary captain in Essos.
The Mountain’s Men set fire to another ill-fated home. The villagers fled, leaving their belongings behind. Over two dozen men ran to their carts, led by the recruiters who brought them here from King’s Landing. Gregor spotted the Night’s Watch conscripts and grinned. Arya watched helplessly as the Mountain signalled to his men and headed in her direction.
A hand grabbed Arya firmly by the shoulder. “A girl is frightened.”
“How did you know I’m a…” Arya trailed off. The stranger had long straight hair, red on one side and white the other. It was the man she saved when her caravan was first ambushed by Gregor a few weeks past. “Yes, I’m frightened! That’s the Mountain, and he’s coming to kill me, you, all of us!”
“Valar Morghulis,” the man responded calmly. He pointed towards the nearby forest. It was very dark, but through the glimmer of the firelight Arya saw an enormous direwolf; teeth bared, eyes aglow.
Victor: House Stark
Characters Killed: 'The Mountain' Gregor Clegane
The Blacktyde Rebellion
After hearing about the Stark’s dominance in the war against the Lannisters, Balon Greyjoy abandoned any notion of invading the north. Instead, his eyes turned towards an even greater prize: Casterly Rock.
The Westerlands had been in disarray since the downfall of the Lannister dynasty. The High Sparrow and his faithful ruled over Casterly Rock and Lannisport. Kevan Lannister rallied the western lords to take back what his foolish niece and nephew had lost, likely leading to a bloody civil war between the Sparrow’s rabid disciples and the lion loyalists.
Balon called forth his vassals, but as always, the Lord Reaper of Pyke was blinded by his ambition. His bannerman Baelor Blacktyde had been seeking revenge against ‘Balon the Widowmaker’ ever since his father died in Balon’s absurd rebellion 10 years prior. Raised in Oldtown, and a convert to the Faith of the Seven, Baelor sent the High Sparrow an enticing proposition: help overthrow House Greyjoy of Pyke and the Faith of the Seven will spread across the Iron Islands like an unstoppable wave.
Victor: Baelor Blacktyde
The captive priests stood upon the deck of the Nightflyer, their hands bound by rope. Aeron Damphair watched as his lifeless brothers were dumped into the Sunset Sea. He stepped away from his fellow prisoners and leaned over the ship’s bulwark. Victarion quickly sunk out of view, but Balon Greyjoy rose to the surface, as mighty as ever, before the sea claimed him and guided his body to the Drowned God’s watery halls.
“What is dead may never die,” Baelor Blacktyde proclaimed, “but rises again, harder and stronger.” The Lord of Blacktyde stood before his righteous captives. A few of the drowned priests repeated the sacred words.
“I had no respect for Lord Balon,” Baelor told them. “Save for his faith. We did not defeat the Drowned God on Pyke, only the Greyjoys. You are needed now. We must do what is best for the Iron Islands, for our people, not waste our lives struggling to revive the imagined past of a failed tyrant. Help us build a better world… or drown in your old one.”
A priest stepped forward, his eyes bound by a damp, dingy cloth. It was Blind Beron Blacktyde, Lord Baelor’s kin. “The world may be all darkness to me, cousin, but you are the one who cannot see.”
Aeron Greyjoy took Beron by the hand and guided him towards the ship’s ledge. “No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair,” Aeron decreed. “Curse you, Baelor Blacktyde, and your seven green whores. We are the strength of the sea, and the waters of wrath will rise high.”
“What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger,” Beron preached.
The defiant priests plunged into the waves below. Blind Beron flailed madly; his arms still bound. The voice that spoke with such certainty moments before now cried out in doubt. Aeron tried to assure his brother, but his mouth filled with sea water. What is dead…
Characters Killed: Balon Greyjoy, Victarion Greyjoy, Aeron Greyjoy, Beron Blacktyde
House of the Undying
After surviving the red waste, Daenerys Targaryen and her retinue find themselves in the ancient city of Qarth. Pyat Pree, a Qartheen warlock, convinces Daenerys to heed the counsel of the mysterious Undying Ones. Inside the House of the Undying, the Dragon Queen sees many alarming visions, including the pretender kings of Westeros. Yet before Daenerys can travel west and save the Seven Kingdoms, she must escape the devious trap of the Undying.
Victor: Daenerys Targaryen
Characters Killed: N/A
Ours is the Fury
After two long months, a raven from Lord Eddard Stark finally reached Dragonstone. His daughter Arya was safe, and her search party was about three weeks away from returning home to Winterfell.
“We should not delay further...” Alester Florent began.
“And this victory cannot be seen as yet another triumph for the north,” his brother Axell interjected. “The realm must see Stannis Baratheon take back the Iron Throne. King Stannis must win the fight, not some northern boy and his pet wolf.”
“Foolish,” Stannis sneered. “Only one truth matters: I’m far more likely to defeat Renly with House Stark and the north by my side.”
Davos Seaworth nodded in agreeance.
“Perhaps, but how long will you hold onto power?” retorted Axell. “The Young Wolf outwitted Jaime Lannister, dethroned the Mad Cub… he killed the Mountain That Rides. If he covers himself in glory against Renly, your usurper brother who boldly challenged your capicity to lead the Seven Kingdoms, it won’t only be the wolves howling for Robb Stark.”
“Let them howl. I am the king. No amount of wailing will change that,” said Stannis.
Flames twisted and swirled inside the brazier. The Red Woman stared at the fire. “You are more than a king,” Melisandre said to Stannis. “You are Azor Ahai come again, and the Florents are right.”
Axell grinned at Davos, who tugged at his lucky pouch.
“For all the wrong reasons,” she clarified. “The Wolves of Winterfell must remain in the north. The great war is upon us, a war far more important than any ever fought for a throne. House Stark must hold back the dark so that we have time to muster the strength of all Westeros. March on King’s Landing and unite the Seven Kingdoms, now, my lord. The fate of all living things depends on it.”
Victor: Renly Baratheon
Characters Killed: Andrew Estermont
Stannis raked his hands along the Painted Table, sending miniature siege towers crashing to the ground. He picked up an old wooden chair and shattered it against the rock wall. The Red Woman was the only other person in the room. She stood by the dying fire.
“Visions,” Stannis sneered. “The fate of all living things. So what, what now? The world will fall to ruin because Renly Baratheon sits the Iron Throne?” He grabbed the priestess by the shoulders. “Tell me… tell me what you see!”
Melisandre placed her hand over Stannis’ heart. “The fire is still inside you, my lord. You are the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, no matter where you sit.” Stannis released his grip.
“I still see your victory,” Melisandre told him. “The greatest victory the world will ever know. Light triumphing over the dark, forever more… but there is still much I don’t see. I cannot protect you from every setback or defeat. I can only tell you to endure. Continue onward, always, until the dawn.”
Stannis leaned over the Painted Table. He stared at King’s Landing.
“I watched the Knight of Flowers cut through a dozen of my men. He nearly split Andrew Estermont’s head in twain. Ser Andrew took a knee, leaned back, and died... but never fell. His beard was sopping with blood. Then they swept in from the west, thousands of horsemen.” Stannis swallowed. “I should have been fighting beside them.”
“Thousands of your men will die before this war is over. Followers, leaders, deserters, heroes. Ser Andrew was a fine soldier, but what you need now is a warrior of light, a man whose heart is fire. For the night is dark…”
She led Stannis to the balcony and together they looked out over the courtyard. A man looked up at them. He wore a triple spiral on his tunic; red, green, and blue. He smiled at the king, and the king’s red shadow.
Mutiny at Craster’s Keep
After being waylaid by the undead at the Fist of the First Men, Jeor Mormont and his Night’s Watch ranging party made a hasty retreat to Craster’s Keep. Tensions were high even before the wights attacked, with many brothers of the Watch planning to betray their oaths and murder the Lord Commander. When Craster offers the starving men only morsels of bread, violence erupts and the mutiny at Craster's Keep begins.
Victor: Mutineers
Characters Killed: Jeor Mormont, Craster
The Climb
Victor: Jon Snow
Characters Killed: N/A
“Yaaghh.”
The noise halted almost as suddenly as it escaped the dying raider’s mouth. Ygritte’s eyes bolted open. Jon Snow stood over her, Longclaw once again pressed against her neck.
“Bastard.”
“Aye,” Jon said regretfully. “I’m sorry, Ygritte. I am.”
“Your words mean nothing,” she spat at him.
“They mean something. I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch.” Jon picked Ygritte off the ground. She looked around the camp. Three wildling watchmen lay dead, throats sliced open. Several sleeping raiders looked like porcupines with dozens of arrows on their now hardened corpses.
“Cowards,” Ygritte sneered at Jon.
“We had to take out enough of the raiding party to make it safe to capture the rest,” Jon reasoned with her. “I saved you.”
“I never asked you to save me. You know what I’d want.”
“I know nothing,” Jon blushed.
Crack! Ygritte headbutted Jon. The pain was doubly bad in the morning chill. Blood gushed from his nose. A sworn brother grabbed Ygritte by the arms and led her away. “Curse you, Jon Snow, Jon Crow,” Ygritte barked, “and your black rats.”
Dolorous Edd and Jon watched as Ygritte was tossed into a wagon. “She’s angry with you,” Edd reported to Jon. “You must have diddled her completely wrong.”
“I did it just fine,” Jon answered nasally, fingers pinching his nose.
“Aye,” Edd said. “She didn’t break your dick after she busted your nose. Mayhaps there’s some hope for the two of you yet.”
They loaded up the rest of the raiders and headed back to Castle Black.
Battle of Nagga’s Hill
After the ignoble downfall of House Greyjoy, Lord Baelor Blacktyde believed there would be little resistance to his takeover of the Iron Islands. He was sorely mistaken. Priests of the Drowned God rallied to find an ironborn defender to fight back against the softness of the green lifestyle.
Erik Ironmaker answered the call.
Styling himself King Erik the Just, the old lord openly challenged Lord Blacktyde and his feeble gods. "Is it seven gods or one? Who knows? Those green bastards don't even know," Lord Erik bellowed to a crowd of ironborn noblemen. "I hope it is seven, so when I die, I have six more gods to kill with my hammer." Erik's supporters applauded as his grandson Urek held the hammer aloft.
Word spread throughout the Iron Islands: Erik Iron- maker had loudly declared Baelor Blacktyde a string- puppet of the timid Sparrows of the Rock, a false ironman who wants to enslave true ironborn and make them plow fields on the mainland at the bidding of the silent sisters. He demanded 'Baelor Low Tide' meet his challenge for control of the Iron Islands at the ancient grounds of Nagga's Hill.
"I'm here amongst the mighty bones of Nagga," Erik began, "and I will be heard, aye. I ain't one of Baleor's silent bitches. WE WILL BE HEARD! No green wench will order me to cut wheat and bake bread." The cheers and shouts from Erik's army rumbled over the cliffs. "Come fight me, Baelor Green Boy, and I... and we, we all will show you what a true ironborn is made of!"
Urek lifted the hammer over his grandsire's head. The army roared and chanted. "ERIK! ERIK ANVIL- BREAKER! ERIK KING!"
Victor: Erik Ironmaker
Lord Baelor’s knees dragged along the dirt as two men hauled him across a field. His eyes, legs, and arms were tightly bound. Suddenly, the ground disappeared. It was a quick fall into a soft mound of earth. He reached up with his fastened hands and pulled the cloth down from his eyes. He was in a pit, recently dug. Above him, sat in his chair, was Erik Ironmaker. Beside him stood his grandson, Dagon.
“I have a gift for your darling gods,” Erik proclaimed. Dagon flung a hefty piece of shit at Baelor. “Tell 'em it was from the Anvil-Breaker, King Erik the Just.”
“You’re a damned fool, Erik. All we desired was a prosperous future for these lands. This was never about the gods. It was about Balon Greyjoy and his disastrous reign.”
“There you go again, telling folk what to think about this, that, and what. But your lies are short. Your lies didn’t bewitch the Harlaw men forever,” Erik informed Lord Baelor. “They sang jolly songs about the Old Way when they reunited with their iron brothers, and sang some more as they cut down your craven sparrows. They couldn’t wait to open the gates of Ten Towers and surrender their cowardly, double-dealing lord to the Anvil-Breaker. Now Rodrik lies in a pit on this island, buried with his beloved books. Did the same to that rat, Botley. He would’ve sunk Old Wyk to the bottom of the sea to get his little Wyk inside Lady Asha. But he’s breathing dirt now, and soon she’ll be my bride.”
Baelor Blacktyde knew his death was certain, that Lord Ironmaker would never forgive his revolt against the Greyjoys. He burst out in laughter. Erik turned red and squeezed his hammer tightly.
“A madman. Just as the drowned priests said,” Erik told Dagon.
“You mean to take Pyke as your own?” Baelor asked the old, seated lord.
“There’s no mean to it. Pyke is mine,” Erik answered defiantly.
Baelor guffawed, coughing and laughing in spite himself. “Then dig a grave for every lord of the Iron Islands, and be sure to dig one for yourself.”
“The drowned priests blessed me in the waters of Nagga’s Craddle, before the bones of Nagga herself. I saved the Iron Islands from your green dream, from the weakness you call progress. I am the King of Salt and Rock, the Anvil-Breaker, the Just. Your precious mainland sparrows are no match for the true ironborn. Let them come.”
“The sparrows?” Baelor goaded Erik. “I do not speak of the sparrows. Botley, Harlaw, Goodbrother...” He took a deep breath and composed himself. “The main reason they allied with the Faithful and I was because they knew that after the death of Balon his arrival would be imminent.”
“Whose arrival?” demanded Erik.
“You claim I'm a madman.” Baelor shook his head. “Balon was mad. Aeron was madder. And Euron is maddest of them all.”
Erik waved his hand and a dozen men stepped to the pit’s ledge. Heavy stones pummelled the Lord of Blacktyde, captain of the Nightflyer. He collapsed to the ground. Dirt was quickly shovelled on top of him, covering his eyes, filling his mouth and ears. He would never hear the sea again.
Characters Killed: Baelor Blacktyde, Tristifer Botley, Rodrik Harlaw
A Lion Still Has Claws
The High Sparrow stood before the enraptured mob gathered in the Lannisport city square. The Voice of the Seven on Earth lifted his hand and the crowd hushed like a rolling wave.
“Here stand our great captains, our six exalted Champions of the Faith,” the High Sparrow proclaimed. Behind him stood Sandor Clegane, clad in black armor with a rainbow sword shining bright on his breastplate. Beside Sandor stood the majority of Joffrey Baratheon’s erstwhile Kingsguard: Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Boros Blount, and Ser Preston Greenfield. These men wisely embraced the new puissant order of the High Sparrow rather than meet the gods in-person. They too were clad in black, radiant sword upon their chest.
“Yet it is not the Six Who Are One, but Seven,” the Sparrow said. The crowd laughed and smiled as those who have found a warm embrace after years of bitter cold. “So, who is our final champion? Who will be the seventh shepherd-warrior to help guide Westeros unto a new age of piety?”
Voices in the crowd began to call out names of famed knights. “Ser Loras!” “Ser Barristan!” “Ser Gregor!” “Ser Addam!”
“The Young Wolf!” yelled a young man. The crowd gasped and laughed.
“Renowned warriors,” the High Sparrow agreed. “Though, as we have learned, renown does not equate to virtuousness, to goodness. As I speak another renowned man, Lord Kevan Lannister, is mustering the remnants of his disgraced family’s bannermen to march upon the Rock and slaughter us.” Silence fell upon the square. “Slaughter men, women, and children, for no greater reason than to cover the name Lannister in glory. He believes that name, Lannister, has a greater worth than all your lives, than your very souls. A lie. The lie. The great deception that must be eradicated from this land. We do not yet have a renowned warrior to be our final Champion of the Seven, no, so I pray that all of you will join us. Be our seventh. For together, we are greater than any renowned warrior, any debased dynasty, any godless foe who stands against us!”
The crowd roared, clapped, stomped. The Hound felt the stone tremble beneath his feet. He supposed he made the right choice… for now. Looking at the stone-faces of the other five ‘shepherd-warriors’ it was obvious they also daydreamed about the next ship to Braavos or Volantis. Anywhere but here. But until that day, they would have to fight for this Sparrow. Sod it, thought the Hound. What’s another dead Lannister?
Victor: Faith Militant
Characters Killed: Kevan Lannister
Lord Bolton sat alone in the Dreadfort’s great hall. A serving boy entered carrying a plate of tender venison, fat mushrooms, and spiced onions. He set the plate in front of Lord Bolton and flitted away. Roose cut into the meat. Blood oozed out, soaking into the vegetables.
“And who are you, the proud lord says, that I must bow so low?” a voice sang. Ramsay Snow stepped out from the shadows and grinned at his father.
Roose wiped his mouth. “A raven arrived this morning from Lady Donella Hornwood. She demands to know why Bolton men are mustering near her border.”
“She and I have had some slight misunderstandings, father. It’s hard to maintain communication when she won’t speak to a bastard, and I won’t speak to a hoary, fat bitch. Not until she finds a good husband…”
“This game of yours will end, now. I’ve heard how you and your pet have enjoyed your ‘hunts’ while I’ve been at war, and how the nearby villages have been robbed of nearly every comely girl.”
“Hornwood is ripe for the taking,” Ramsay told his father. “Ample fields, forests, and villages; safeguarded by a witless old crone.”
“Was this absurd plot conceived of by your companion, Reek?” Roose asked. “His stench was revolting. My guardsmen gagged as they hung him from a tree. I doubt even the crows will go near his corpse. His flesh will rot by the wind and rain.”
Ramsay’s eye twitched. Roose continued. “I have no designs on Hornwood, and even if I did, House Stark’s hold on the north is ironclad. Now is not the time for defiance.” He drank from his goblet. “I had a long talk with Lord Stark before I returned north,” he said. “The westerlands are in utter disarray. Kevan Lannister is marshalling a motley legion to reclaim the Rock from the Sparrows. He will fail, I will see to that. Both King Renly and King Stannis have proffered House Stark grand favours in reward for their annihilation of the Lannisters, in which I played no small part. Lord Stark has no desire to leave Winterfell, so those gifts will be issued to his kin and loyal bannermen.” Roose took another drink. “I don’t want the little fields of the Hornwood. I want Casterly Rock.”
Last Stand of Dragonstone
After his defeat at King’s Landing, Stannis Baratheon returned to Dragonstone to plot his next move. With his forces heavily depleted, there was murmuring amongst his allies on abandoning this doomed cause for the greener pastures of Renly Baratheon, First of His Name, King on the Iron Throne. To shore up his support, Stannis and Hand of the King Alester Florent travelled to speak with House Velaryon and other sworn houses in the region.
“What your brother did was detestable,” Alester assured Stannis. “Succession is not a game of chance. R’hllor will not allow this injustice to stand. Once we have rallied the crownlands, we shall summon Winterfell and Riverrun and the Eyrie. Together they vanquished the dragon, surely they can prune some overgrown blossoms.”
At King’s Landing, Renly Baratheon’s reign felt more tenuous with each passing day. Noblemen in the Red Keep jested that King Renly didn’t even notice that Queen Margaery was missing since Ser Loras fit the role so well. Renly’s spies reported no significant troop movements in the north or riverlands, but he had yet to hear a single word from Eddard Stark, Hoster Tully, or Lysa Arryn. Their deafening silence rankled the king and his Small Council.
“I do not need the wolves or silver trout to defeat Stannis,” Renly proclaimed. “I’ve already done so. What I need more than anything is my wife back by my side.” Loras Tyrell eagerly took command of the expedition to rescue his long-suffering sister.
The bells chimed a warning to every soul within earshot. Ser Justin Massey saw the sails on the horizon, a golden crowned stag on a field of green. Dozens and dozens of ships. Perhaps over a hundred. The entire royal fleet sailed toward Dragonstone.
Victor: Renly Baratheon
Characters Killed: Selyse Baratheon, Axell Florent, Justin Massey
Wind lashed against Driftmark Castle. Stannis Baratheon lay awake in the predawn hours. He heard the scrambling footsteps before his chamber door burst open. He sat up and moved for his scabbard.
Davos Seaworth entered, drenched head-to-toe in seawater.
“Ser Davos.” Stannis grinded his teeth. He knew precisely what the Onion Knight was about to say.
“Dragonstone has fallen. Ser Justin attempted to rally the men, but we were severely outnumbered. He was slain by Loras Tyrell while defending the walls.”
Again the Knight of Flowers. Stannis’ mind raced. “What of the princess and queen?”
Davos hesitated. He reached for his lucky pouch and swallowed. “Several men claim they saw Princess Shireen exiting the castle with Margaery Tyrell. Lady Margaery seemed to be comforting the princess, holding her hand as they walked toward the port.”
Stannis breathed. Taken as a hostage, but Renly wouldn’t dare kill his young niece and Margaery Tyrell would see that she is treated gently.
“And the queen?”
Davos squeezed his finger bones once more. “She was hesitant to evacuate when the attack began, believing that the Lord of Light would safeguard the castle. We smuggled many to safety… but after they stormed the gates the passageway to the port was cut off and, and…”
Melisandre flowed into the darkened bedchamber. Her red necklace gleamed, and her eyes were fire. “It was a blessed death. A death by fire. Ser Axell was with her. The sept burned, and her spirit was unchained from horrors of this world.”
“And this was all part of some plan, I’m to believe?” the aggravated king prodded the Red Woman.
“You were here, my lord, when the hammer-stroke fell on Dragonstone. You evaded the cavalry charge and returned unscathed from the battle at King’s Landing. R’hllor always keeps you one step ahead.”
“One step ahead… my wife is ashes and I have no army to speak of,” Stannis rebuked.
“And from ashes Azor Ahai was born. You are the Prince That Was Promised, not the Prince Who Was Gifted the World. It will not be easy. It will be the hardest thing any man has ever done. That is why it must be you.”
Alester Florent entered the room. “My king, we must leave now before they learn of your whereabouts. Driftmark cannot hold back that which engulfed Dragonstone.”
“To where?” questioned Davos.
They all knew the answer, but none of them knew what would happen when they arrived.
The Bridge of Skulls
Victor: Free Folk
Characters Killed: Bowen Marsh, Denys Mallister
Battle for the North
Harrrrrrrooooooooooooooo. The sound reverberated through the icy air. Everyone at Castle Black halted, awaiting that second horn blast, the sound of their probable demise. It never came.
One blast. Rangers returning. Jon Snow hurriedly left his bedchamber to speak to the hunters. It was as he feared: the wildling horde was less than three days march from Castle Black.
“We should block up the tunnel with rubble, ice, anything we can find,” Jon suggested to the gathering of men in the common hall.
“And abandon our brothers still beyond the Wall?”
“They’ll understand. I know I’d rather be stranded in the Haunted Forest than be here at Castle Black when thousands of wildlings pour through the gate.”
“Sounds like we came at a bad time,” spoke a familiar voice from the back of the hall. Jon could hardly believe his eyes. There stood his half-brother Robb and their father Eddard, among a host of others.
“The Young Wolf!” Samwell Tarly exclaimed in awe.
“Aye, it’s him,” bellowed the Greatjon. “But don’t get too stiff, lad, his pet does most of the fighting for him. As for your gate, leave the doors open for all I care. We won’t let a single one of those piss drinkers set foot in the Seven Kingdoms.”
The northern lords had answered the call.
Victor: House Stark
Characters Killed: Greatjon Umber, Rickard Karstark, Harma Dogshead, The Weeper, Rattleshirt, Mag the Mighty, Varamyr Sixskins, Borroq, Dalla, Mance Rayder
Mance Rayder was alone. He sat in a small room in the Silent Tower, chained to the table in front of him. Ned Stark entered and took a seat across from the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
“How are your boys, Lord Eddard?” Mance inquired.
Ned was taken aback. He had heard reports about Mance’s wildling queen giving birth during the battle. Why not ask about your own child? All the same, he responded cordially. “They’re well. Robb was injured early by one of your damned bear riders, but he was able to fall back to the castle. He commanded the stone throwers and archers for the remainder of the battle. Jon was pushed back to the Wall but kept himself safe until your center broke.”
“Aye. When Mag the Mighty fell the ground shook and the tide turned,” Mance said wistfully. “I’ve met them before, your boys. Years ago, when I was still a man of the Watch, visiting Winterfell with Lord Commander Qorgyle.”
“I remember when Qorgyle visited,” Ned replied.
“Your lads were planning to dump a mound of snow on some unsuspecting passer-by. I promised them I wouldn’t say a word if anyone came looking for who done it.” Ned smiled. Mance shifted in his chair, then continued. “Lord Eddard, I’ve talked to giants. Run my hands along the shaggy coat of a mammoth. Danced with spearwives, drank with skinchangers, sang with the walrus people. I defeated the Magnar of Thenn in battle, united near a hundred tribes, and became King-Beyond-the-Wall. And despite all the incredible things I’ve seen and done, I’ll always remember those two mischievous boys laughing on the battlements of Winterfell. Because they were your sons, sons of the Lord of Winterfell. My people… my people are the sons and daughters of nothing. They’ll never be defended by personal guards or honored with some grand ceremony. Their names will never be sung. But you can’t let them die because of that, Lord Eddard. They are faceless and nameless, a seemingly endless horde, but don’t let them die because of all the things they aren’t. The battle is over. You’ve won. Now I beg you, please. Let them through the gate. Let them live. And if you have no compassion, Lord Eddard, if you decide it’s best to lock the gate and release arrows upon any wildling who dares to gaze at the Wall, I implore you to speak to Jon and his brothers who travelled to the Fist of the First Men. They've seen what is coming. They know that if you leave my people out there to die, you will fight them again. And again. And again. And again.”
Later that night, in front of a small gathering, Ned beheaded Mance Rayder for the crime of desertion.
The free folk camped near the Haunted Forest built tall pyres for their leaders who died in battle. Harma the Dogshead, the Lord of Bones, and the Weeper were fed to the flames. At Castle Black, pyres were constructed for the fallen northern lords, Rickard Karstark and Greatjon Umber. Hundreds of men gathered in the courtyard to honor them.
“They could have remained in their castles, coddled by servants as they lazed beside a hearth, but that was not who the Greatjon or Lord Rickard were,” Ned eulogized. “They were Lords of the North, and they answered the call.”
The pyres were lit. Uncertain flickers quickly erupted into ravenous flames. In front of Ned was the open sky, brimming with stars. Behind him was total darkness, as the impenetrable Wall blocked everything behind it.
He knew what he had to do. But how?
A Time for Wolves
Merrett Frey stumbled toward the dais, cups in each hand. Half his black beer spilled upon the floor as he bumped into a table near the front of the Great Hall. He turned to Catelyn Stark, who sat beside her son and his new bride.
“My lady! My lady, please, don’t have me hung. I will only spill the rest of my ale properly, down my gullet, I swear it,” Merrett swore. The Lady of Winterfell gave Merrett a short, polite smile.
Catelyn glanced over at Roslin Frey. Pretty, demure, kind. How could she be from the same family as Merrett, Lothar, and all those Walders? It didn’t matter. Soon the Freys would travel back to the Twins and Roslin would spend the rest of her days in Winterfell, a Stark.
Merrett cleared his throat and addressed the lively crowd. “As you all know, my father was downtrodden at the thought of missing this wedding. Father loves weddings. That’s why he’s had eight of them.”
Ned snorted. Laughter filled the hall.
“Although father could not be here on this jolly day he wanted me…”
“Which one are you?” a cheeky northerner called out.
“Merrett! I am Merrett Frey. He wanted me to convey a message of love and affection toward his beautiful daughter, Roslin, and his newest son, the fearless Young Wolf, Robb Stark.” Merrett held one of his cups aloft. “And although he is not here today, father had a special request. A special song he desired to have played.”
The band began to play.
“And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?”
The guests gasped, laughed, and clapped. They all sang together:
“And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that lord of Castamere!
But now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o’er his hall,
and not a soul to hear!”
Robb kissed his bride. All in the Great Hall cheered their union.
The endless clamour seemed to fade as Catelyn watched her children about the Great Hall. Arya and Sansa exchanged food. Rickon giggled as two dogs chased him over a chicken leg. Bran sat beside Jon Snow, who said something that made Bran spit out his drink.
The Bastard of Winterfell smiled wide. He looked up and saw Lady Catelyn staring at him. She smiled back at him. She looked over to Ned, who smiled wide. Mother Above, thank you, Catleyn thought. The war is over, and every day is a blessing.
A solemn-looking guard walked over to Ned. He whispered into the lord’s ear. Ned wiped his mouth and stood.
“What is it, father?” Robb wondered.
“Ned?” Catelyn pried.
“There’s something outside I must attend to.” Ned exited the hall.
It was a windy night with a gentle autumn snow. The gate was wide open. There stood Stannis Baratheon, a crown of red gold on his head, wrought to look like fire. Next to Stannis stood a tall, young woman. Her cloak was red, as was her hair, and the jewel on her neck. Her eyes were red, too. Red and terrible.
“Lord Eddard. I do not wish to disrupt your son’s wedding. Return to the feast,” Stannis said brusquely. “Tomorrow we will discuss our plans to destroy Renly and end this farce he has perpetrated against my kingdom.”
The Story to Come
The Boltons invasion of the westerlands is going to be a massive, three-part event. I hope to have the first battle report, The Bloody Hunt, up by the end of the year.
After the fate of Casterly Rock is decided, we will have a one or two battles to decide the fate of the Iron Islands, then a final, final clash between Renly and Stannis.
Thanks for reading!