Chapter 92 Declaration of Vengeance
The warriors of Winterfell, somewhat excited, immediately formed a circle at the edge of the plaza. These old soldiers, who loved a good spectacle, were eager to see who was stronger: their young lord, who was unmatched in the North, or the Dragon King, whom their lord highly admired.
Cregan and Longze'er walked into the circle together. Cregan carried Ice, the ancestral sword of House Stark, and Longze'er drew Silver Blood. Confident in their swordsmanship, they did not use wooden training swords.
"Prince, I've heard of your swordsmanship," Cregan said, slightly raising his greatsword and bringing it down in a powerful overhead chop. "Please do not hold back."
Longze'er sidestepped the chop and struck Ice with his sword, actually making Cregan stumble. Cregan's swordsmanship was simple and unadorned, consisting of basic chops and circular cuts, without flashy moves; every strike was solid.
However, Longze'er's swordsmanship was of a similar style. He moved with ease beneath Cregan's blade, each thrust precisely parrying Cregan's exhausting strikes, retracting his longsword at just the right moment. The silver longsword and the plain greatsword clashed, sending out rainbow-like sparks with each collision, yet every clash resulted in Cregan retreating step by step.
"My brother is about to give out."
Jacaerys was startled by the voice from behind him. Upon turning, he saw a maiden who resembled Cregan and carried a wild kind of beauty.
"Sara Snow," she introduced herself plainly, showing no shame in her birth, only pride. "Your Highness."
"Hello," Prince Jacaerys nodded, continuing to watch the duel.
Cregan was gradually suppressed by Longze'er. Several times, his sword was pressed down before he could even raise it. Finally, when Silver Blood lightly touched Cregan's chest, the young Lord of Winterfell dropped his greatsword and raised his hands in surrender.
"The rumors are true," he said, looking into Longze'er's deep violet eyes. "Perhaps you will become the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms."
"If there is still someone in this world who can make me draw my sword," Longze'er said with a faint smile.
He turned his head toward Jacaerys and Sara Snow.
"Is that your sister?"
Cregan nodded, allowing Sara to step forward and punch him.
"You—have you used up a year's worth of smiles today?" she teased. "Why aren't you like this with your bannermen?"
"The wolf's smile is reserved for the strong," Cregan replied calmly.
Though Sara Snow was a bastard, in the North such matters were not treated as harshly as in the South. Bastards of House Stark were often entrusted with responsibility—either serving close to the Lord of Winterfell or taking the black and rising high within the Night's Watch.
"Winter is coming," Cregan said, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Only by being harsher than winter can we survive it."
He turned back to his guests.
"Forgive her manners, Prince, Your Highness. I have prepared a feast. May our friendship endure."
Riverlands, Harrenhal.
Prince Daemon strode into the Hall of a Hundred Hearths. This vast hall, said to hold an army, now truly lived up to its name, as the core strength of the Black faction in the Riverlands had gathered within.
Lord Petyr Piper followed closely behind.
"Prince, our supplies are ready," he said quietly, "but there is an issue with the dragons' food. Merchants from King's Landing bought most of our sheep—only pigs are left."
"It matters little," Daemon replied. "Caraxes eats anything."
He moved through the crowd, searching for Lord Forrest Frey and Lady Alysanne Blackwood. After her father's death, she and her uncle, Ser Willem Blackwood, now supported the young Lord Blackwood.
"How long until the rest of our forces arrive?" Daemon asked.
"At least two weeks," Lord Forrest answered. "It is harvest season. We cannot yet draw too many men."
"How many now?"
"Twelve thousand. With two more weeks, we can raise another nine or ten thousand levies."
"The sooner the better," Daemon said. "The Westermen have already marched. They avoid open roads to evade dragons."
He paused.
"Any word from the North?"
"Not yet," Alysanne said, adjusting her bowstring. "Ravens take time."
Daemon nodded.
"And Riverrun?"
Lord Forrest hesitated. "It would be better if Ser Elmo spoke himself."
Daemon turned. A young man in a dark cloak stepped forward.
Lord Grover Tully lay bedridden, still loyal to Aegon. But his grandson, Ser Elmo Tully, had quietly shut the gates and lowered the king's banner.
"Your Grace," Elmo said, bowing, "we support the Queen's rightful claim—but we fear dragons."
"You will have protection," Daemon interrupted. "I will remain here. Caraxes will shield all who stand with the Queen."
Elmo bowed deeply.
"My grandfather still lives… and remains loyal to the usurper. I cannot change that."
"I understand," Daemon said. "If I were younger, I might suggest… a quicker end. But I know your burden. Go. So long as Riverrun does not oppose us, we will not bring fire upon it."
Elmo departed gratefully.
At that moment, Ser Simon Strong rushed in, breathless.
"A message… from the Stormlands…"
Daemon took the letter.
Before he finished reading, his body swayed.
"Aemond…"
The hall fell silent.
Lord Forrest took the letter, his expression turning pale.
"Kinslaying… this is an abomination!"
Murmurs spread rapidly.
Ser Willem Blackwood spoke coldly, "Killing a messenger, murdering kin—his name will be cursed."
"This is outrageous!" another lord shouted.
"Revenge," Lord Piper said, raising his sword.
"We must avenge Prince Lucerys!"
"We must avenge Prince Lucerys!"
The cry spread like wildfire. Every sword in the hall was raised. Even Elmo Tully, standing at the doorway, joined the shout.
"My stepson died as a warrior," Daemon said, his eyes burning red. "He faced death without fear. The blood he shed—we will repay it in blood!"
"Revenge!"
"Revenge!"
"Revenge!"
The hall trembled with fury.
As the North raised the black banners for the Queen, the Reach prepared for war.
Lord Unwin Peake was among the first to declare for Aegon. With three castles under his command, he brought 4,500 men to join Lord Ormund Hightower. Together with other allies, they assembled 15,000 troops, including 2,000 knights.
They joined Hightower's 6,000 men at the Honeywine. More forces were still gathering.
Opposing them were loyalists to the Queen.
Lord Thaddeus Rowan of Goldengrove raised Rhaenyra's banner. House Caswell followed. House Beesbury and House Costayne also declared for her.
Ser Alan Beesbury, now leading his house, sent ravens demanding the release of Lord Lyman Beesbury—unaware his grandsire was already dead.
Receiving no reply, he raised his banners and called for aid from Horn Hill.
"That whelp's tactics are infuriating!" Lord Peake snapped, slamming his helm down. "Our scouts are being slaughtered."
"They are stalling," Lord Ormund said calmly. "Waiting for Tarly and Rowan."
He pointed to the sky.
"Our true reinforcement has arrived."
A dragon's roar split the heavens.
A cobalt-blue dragon descended, landing beside the Green army.
"My lord, the mission is complete," Prince Daeron said as he dismounted.
Tessarion, the Blue Queen, snorted lazily as sheep were brought before her.
"Now," Lord Ormund smiled, "our true strength is here."
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