[The Next Day]

 

It was  mid-morning and the Royal guard was already assembled, hundreds of men manning the broad city wall. Some stood next to the Scorpions and Hwachas, while others stood with bows and quivers of arrows at their side. Below the wall, on the broad field that stretches from the city’s old gate, The royal guard were amassed. In the front were the officers distinguished from their Cohorts with their helmet plumes which ran side to side, while the legionaries ran front to back.

 

In the back sat Jacelyn, Joffrey’s vice commander and second in command. He wore his distinguished armor and memorable iron hand. All the soldiers were well disciplined and well outfitted, standing in tight line formations, with the walls covering their flanks. Everyone stood silently and soberly, not making a sound. The negotiations were going well, but Joffrey knew the northerners were a fickle lot and decided not to take chances. He ordered his entire force to be at the ready in case negotiations broke down.

 

Soon the old gate opened and out rode Joffrey still in his personal black and gold lion armor, surrounded by his kingsguard. Beside him was his beloved Sansa. After talks the previous night, Robb had requested to see his sisters, to see if they were as well looked after as his father. Joffrey agreed but would only bring one at a time in case he attempted something stupid. 

 

As the nine riders made their way out of the city the royal guards parted ways for them, making a clear path to the open field before filing back into formation. After arriving at the front of the army Joffrey nodded his head to his officers who stood at attention. They then began to ride out toward the area where negotiations were to be held. As they rode however a loud sound filled the tranquil morning air, the sounds of war horns.

 

Suddenly thousands of northern soldiers, equipped with boiled leather armor, with wooden round shields and long swords came charging out onto the field. The sigils they wore were that of a white sunburst on black. Joffrey looked around stunned by the sudden turn of events, but quickly regained his composure. He grabbed the reins of the frightened Sansa’s horse, helping her regain control over the beast.

 

“Go! Go!” He shouted to his beloved and guards.

 

They quickly turned back around and rode back towards the city. As they approached the men separated again allowing them through, and opening the gates. As they rode by the men filled back in and braced themselves for the wall of northerners charging at them.

 

“Get inside Sansa!” He shouted to the girl and smacked the back of her horse, as she rode inside. Joffrey then looked up at the top of the walls.

 

“Archers!”

 

The men at the top of the walls then got into positions, readying the scorpions, Hwachas, and longbows. The gate closed behind Sansa, Joffrey led his horse to be near Jacelyn at the rear as the north soldiers continued to charge. The royal soldiers didn’t quiver or waver, but the expressions on their faces betrayed their anxiety. The north soldiers charging at them outnumbered them four to one after all. 

 

The northman surged forward, hollering with collective violence that makes the ground tremble. Eight thousand soldiers descending on the young king and his men. 

 

“Brothers! Formations!” Joffrey shouted.

 

Jacelyn and the Royal guards shouted in unison.

 

The royal soldiers readied their shields and lances, getting into their Phalanx formation. They covered the men to their left with their heater shields. Working as a single impenetrable unit, just as they had been trained in basic training. They stand at the ready as the wave of northmen clash against their battle line.

 

Chaos soon erupted as the wave of northern soldiers slammed into the southerners' shield wall. Blood and flesh erupted as the two sides collided, north soldiers jumping  and climbing over one another trying to get over the tight formation, only to be met with spears. Atop the wall one of Joffrey’s officers gives out commands.

 

“Loose” He shouts and the archers let the arrows and bolts fly. A deadly swarm of hornets that rises towards the clouds before descending on the charging northmen.

 

Suddenly the north army is bombarded with hundreds of carbon steel tipped arrows. Hundreds of men fall, the royal guard let loose another swarm of arrows while others reload the scorpions and Hwachas. Many find their mark biting into the enemies throats and faces. Piercing their leather armor like a hot knife through butter.

 

The north army, so overwhelming mere seconds prior, is now struck with chaos. The men in the front turn back realizing too late that they’ve become targets. While men at the back still push forward. In this confusion of foot traffic the rain of arrows continue to fall killing more and more soldiers by the second.

 

At the back near the trees sat Lord Rickard Karstark and one of his banner man. He was wide eyed and completely baffled by the scene unfolding before him. 

 

[The Night Before]

 

He had amassed all of his personal forces and the men loyal to him which made up more than half of the northern forces. He instructed them that once the blonde haired little shit king came out of the city they would slaughter his men and take him prisoner. All of this under the justification of getting Ned and his daughters back.

 

In truth he had lost himself to vengeance with the loss of his two sons to the Lannister forces. He had marched tirelessly to the royal capital thinking of nothing else but putting Joffrey, his siblings, and his whore mother’s head on spikes. But once they arrived their king had betrayed him. They obviously outnumbered the black armored cunts seven to one but he refused to attack. He had given up his family and the future of his house for the Stark king’s cause, and how did he repay him? By spitting in his face. He even had the gall to put his hand on his shoulder and preach to him.

 

It had filled him with such rage he was ready to spit bile. So while the other soldiers slept he gathered his forces and the few other lords that would listen to him, and instructed them on the  battle plans. Only great Jon seemed to agree with taking the fight to the southerners, mostly out of concern that the king had wavered with his siblings and father being used against him. He agreed to help Lord Karstark with the battle, but refused to allow any of his sons or banner man involved with their treason. 

 

Karstark had tried to persuade him to let his men fight as well, but the giant oaf just laughed at him.  

 

“Don’t get it twisted my lord.” He said laughing. “I’m doing this for our king, not you.”

 

It frustrated him to no end, but ultimately he relented. They couldn’t use the horses thanks to lord Glover and his men overseeing them. Though with eight thousand men he assumed it was more than enough.

 

[Back to the Battle]

 

Karstark just continued to look stunned not knowing what to do as the carnage unfolded before him.

 

“Hold the line!” One of the officers at the front of the shield wall shouted.

 

The northerners continue to push against the shield wall which suddenly comes to a halt.

 

“Now!” The lead officer shouts.

 

The front of the line then as one pushed back the north soldiers. After creating distance the soldiers thrust their spears out, screwing the bewildered northern forces. All the Royal guards wore spring steel plated armor, and carbon steel forged weapons. They cut right through Northerners' boiled leather armor and ring mail. After the first line dropped the royal guards stepped forward interlocking their shields. They continued to push the northern troops back using the tactics they had mastered in their basic training and had practiced everyday.

 

The archers continued to fire arrows at the incoming enemy while the ground infantry pushed them back. Whenever a man would fall, one of the men in the rear line would fill in, so as not to leave a weak spot to be exploited. Joffrey watched from the rear surrounded by his kingsguard as his royal soldiers fought. They executed their formations flawlessly killing their enemies without hesitation and without mercy. 

 

He knew they were going to win at this rate. Joffrey then looked up to the front of the battle line and saw a giant of a man sowing chaos in their formations. It was the same old man who had insulted him in the tent wearing heavy armor, carrying a giant round wooden shield the size of a door, and a two handed great sword he wielded  with one hand. Joffrey could see clearly who this giant of a man was with one look, the great Jon Umber.

 

He forced his way through their tightly packed formations breaking apart their defense. Men followed behind him forcing their way through cutting down some of Joffrey’s men. His men started to grow frightened by the beast in human clothing, and started to back away. Joffrey could see this man was beginning to change the tide of the battle and had to be stopped. He cursed under his breath wishing he had brought Sandor with him to fight this monster. 

 

Joffrey then reached down and grabbed a lance and shield from one of his soldiers. He then rode forward his men making way for their king, as his shocked kingsguard looked on. Jon looked up and saw the blonde hair little shit riding toward him. Joffrey raised up ready to skewer the giant. Great Jon slammed his giant shield into the king’s horse knocking it to the ground, causing Joffrey to tumble and roll into the dirt.

 

Joffrey scrambled to his feet readying his shield and drawing his sword ready to face the giant himself. Jon Umber beheaded a few of the royal soldiers who charged at him, before turning to face the young king. He had to admit the blonde haired cunt had more balls than he first thought, coming to face him alone. 

 

He charged at him swinging his great sword down at him while the king got his shield up just in time. Jon’s sword cleaves into the shield, nearly splitting it in two. Joffrey stares down at the splintered shield before discarding it. The two foes circle one another while hundreds of soldiers fight around them. 

 

“So you’re the young lion huh?” He asked mockingly

 

Joffrey doesn’t respond and remains focused trying to find a gap in the great oaf's defenses. Jon charges, swinging his great sword. Joffrey ducks underneath the blade and lunges forward trying to get on the inside. Jon quickly side steps out of the way despite his giant size. He goes for another overhead swing, which Joffrey meets with his own sword. The blades are forced down, Jon then backhanded Joffrey knocking him away making him spit blood. 

 

Jon swings at him again as he back steps, before Joffrey goes for an overhead slash of his own. Great Jon brings his blade up horizontally blocking Joffrey’s attack. He then brought it up and forced it behind Joffrey’s back causing him to yell in pain and drop his sword.

 

Great Jon held him in a bear hug, his legs dangling above the ground. Joffrey then slammed his helmeted head against Non’s nose. Jon staggered back, blood spurting from his face, his nose clearly broken, anger filling his eyes. Joffrey stood before him completely disarmed, Jon brought his sword up ready to strike.

 

“My king!” One of his kingsguard shouted.

 

Two of his kingsguard then made their way out of the crowd of men and attacked the giant. He turned to face them and blocked their strikes with his sword. As they fought Joffrey looked around trying to find a weapon to defend himself with. Jon quickly beheaded the one, and then hacked and hammered at the other, before cutting him from collar bone to hip. He then turned to resume his fight with the king and was met with a lance through the gut. The spear pierces Jon’s armor driving through his belly and out his back.

 

Surprise filled his eyes as he coughed up blood. Joffrey twisted and shoved the spear in more like he was sticking a pig. The giant dropped his sword, seemingly succumbing to his injuries, before he reached out and grabbed the shaft. Jon then punched Joffrey in the face with his free hand forcing him to let go. He then breaks the solid wood of the spear like a twig.

 

Half a spear still sticking out of his back, Jon swings the shaft clobbering Joffrey in the head, sending his helmet flying. Joffrey completely dazed and disoriented falls to one knee, Jon beats him again behind the neck. Joffrey crawls forward blindly. His hands brush over his dropped sword. Jon reaches up ready to hit Joffrey again with a big swing, Joffrey then springs to his feet, severing the giant's arm just below the elbow, before driving it into his chest. Piercing right below his breastplate.

 

Great Jon vomits up more blood looking down at the lodged sword in his stomach. Jon then reaches out with his one remaining hand and seizes Joffrey by the neck. He hoists him up into the air determined to strangle the life out of him. Jon spits a giant wad of blood and smiles, his teeth washed in his own blood.

 

Joffrey attempts to kick off the giant and get free, but Jon’s fingers dig deeper and deeper into his throat. Joffrey’s eyes begin to flutter as he chokes, slowly losing consciousness. He began driving the sword deeper and twisting it. The giant yells in pain as he slowly slumped to his knees. The blood loss becoming too much for the old lord, his eyes finally rolled back dead. He topples over on top of the young king, his hand still locked on his throat. Joffrey undoes the dead man’s grip and squirms out from under his giant corpse. 

 

Lord Karstark looks on in disbelief to Great Jon’s death. The Northerners began to panic with the great lord's death and started to break rank. The Royal soldiers become more confident seeing their king defeat the terrifying giant that started to push forward. The royal soldiers started routing the northerners as they became disorganized. 

 

An exhausted Joffrey continued to cut down any northmen that charged him.

 

“Forward!” He shouted to his troops.

 

The men marched forward in formation stepping over the giant corpse of the north lord. Over top of their shields they thrust their spears at the backpedaling soldiers. They pushed their shields forward in a line formation knocking the men off their feet. 

 

“Front line!” Jacelyn ordered.

 

Suddenly the front line of royal soldiers hurled their spears at the north troops. The spears pierced right through their weak armor and wood shields. They then drew their short arming swords closing the distance, and began hacking at the frightened troops. Their long swords became useless in such close proximity.

 

Joffrey picked up a fallen shield and began fighting with his troops. They hacked and clawed at the men, the back line of men piercing any still breathing enemy soldiers. Arrows continued to rain down on the dwindling enemy forces. Hundreds of corpses watered the ground.

 

“Retreat!” Some of the enemy troops started to shout.

 

The enemy troops then began to turn tail and run back towards the safety of the trees. As they turned to flee the royal soldiers chased after them. They ran the fleeing men from behind with their spears, and gutted any stragglers with their swords. 

 

Then men on the wall cheer and embrace each other as brothers. 

 

Joffrey, still on foot, leads his men as they chase down the fleeing north forces. Several thousands of north soldiers laid dead across the battlefield. As they chased the fleeing men down, Joffrey could see reinforcements in the horizon. The remaining northern forces were now armed and armored, some on horse back and making their way towards them. Joffrey quickly got to the front of his troops and ordered them to stop.

 

“Men halt!” He shouted which they obeyed without question.

 

“My king! We have them!” One of his officers shouted, wanting to continue the pursuit. 

 

“Their reinforcements have arrived.” He pointed out to the clueless officer. “They have heavy cavalry. Fall back to the safety of the walls!” He ordered.

 

He knew their Phalanx formation would be useless if the northerners used their cavalry to outflank them. They would end up running through them like piss through snow. 

 

“Fall back into lines!” The officer ordered.

 

The men obeyed, getting back into formation, and slowly backpedaling toward the walls of the city. The northmen came charging out of the forests ready to avenge their fallen comrades. The Calvary came out ready to ride down the southern cunts. Suddenly Robb Stark rode out in front of them waving his long sword, stopping his troops. 

 

“Halt!” He ordered which his men obeyed and stopped.

 

He then turned and looked upon the carnage that unfolded in his absence completely awe struck.. Thousands of his troops laid dead upon the field, more than half of his army. The battle had started while he was still preparing for their meeting. By the time he had gotten his remaining soldiers for battle and rode out the fight was already over. 

 

He then looked and saw that Joffrey’s forces hadn’t diminished even by half. He looked across the battlefield and saw him at the head of it. His face was bruised and bloodied and his armor gleamed in the blood of his soldiers. The two kings stared at one another not uttering a single word. Then as if having had a silent conversation both men turned toward their own troops.

 

“Back to the city!” 

 

“Back to camp!”

 

The pair then turned back looking at each other again before nodding their heads and turning and leaving. The two armies then turned from opposite directions and made their way back home. The tale of what occurred that day would forever go down in the great histories of Westeros. When a force of a mere two thousand slaughtered and defeated an army over twice their size. It would forever seal the legend of the Royal guards who would henceforth be feared as the king’s reapers.

 

Whispers of what actually happened would fill great halls and taverns for years to come. Some believed that the king had conjured the power of the stranger to strike down his enemies. Others believed Joffrey had used blood magic to strengthen his forces. While even more ridiculous rumors sprung up. Not many were willing to believe that victory came thanks to a combination of great strategy and brave men. 

 

Though that was a tale for another day.