Chapter Text
It was thousands of men who cried out in desperate anger, seeking revenge on those who had been scavenging their lands for the past few months.
War horses flared their nostrils, shrieking in fear as their heavy hooves impacted the wet mud they galloped across. The ocher yellow of the Brackens blazon expanded all over the tridents riverbank, mixing with red of not only their blood, but also the enemies red armor, refined with black rubies symbolizing the Blackwoods dark ravens.
Their houses sigil was flying in masses over their heads, crowing and waiting out the delicious outcome of the clash, waiting to consume the leftovers on the field. It had not yet been midday, the sun was setting high above, though blinded by the gathering dust of the athmosphere.
The dull sound of metal getting blocked by wooden shields was heard, such as forceful weapons of steel colliding against each other.
Red was dancing with yellow it seemed, clearly leading the battle.
And though it was the Blackwoods who currently had the upper hand, their counterparts were not easy enemies to be cowed.
Amos Bracken grunted as he quickly stepped foot on a Blackwood soldiers chestplate, redrawing his longsword from the enemies shoulder.
Another was already awaiting him from the side, leading his sword in front of him with both hands as if trying to aim for the side which he used to keep his own. In a swift movement Amos whirled back on his feet, rotating his upper body out of close contact before heaving his own sword, landing the blade gruesomely into the knights neck as he turned, staining his weapon with blood once again.
It was one second it took, for him to not notice the arrow howling through the thin air, a dry gasp escaping his mouth lastly as he fell to the ground next to the slain knight, pierced through his left eye. She had found the weak spot from afar, a slit in his helmet to provide him sight.
Alysanne Blackwood lowered her bow, just to reach behind her, redrawing the weapon with a hissing whisper within a second to aim for the next target.
Daisies that had been blooming youthfully before were now crushed beneath the weight of death and suffocation. Grass that once grew green and lush was buried under dirt and rubble and the widowing willows which grew tall on the mills side were bowing their heads low, as if mourning the losses of those tending to it before the moon turned.
Riderless horses were pacing by, desperately trying to navigate their way out of the chaos.
A burning smell filled her nose and as she turned, the big, age old structure of the windmill interwoven stably with hay and wood burst into flames.The hot fire crawled up the pillars, swallowing everything that had been built years past.
A cruel reminder of the fact that Brackens and Blackwoods had always despised each other and could not keep up a monument that was once close to a peace offering, both houses setting a border, but establishing it both the same.
The sun, that was gifting the warriors its light was barely a speck in the sky anymore, overshadowed with the black smoke that spread across the battlefield.
Fighting men stretched out all the way up to the edge of the Riverruns border. Miles away from the mill, one could still hear their screams in agony, tearing of wounds and whining of their horses.
From the birds perspective, it might not even be thousands of men. They moved in one big motion, quick and hasty. It was almost like watching an Anthill.
On the very edge of the battle, an ugly gurgling sound crawled from a mans throat as the blade was pushed through his neck from behind, skin easily tearing at the force of it.
Davos was small, slimmer than most, but he used that as a nimble advantage. Being only a lad, it was one of the few ones he had been at least granted. He bared his bloodied teeth into a tense grimace as he pulled his sword out of the lifeless body.
In a single breath he spun around, ducked and tore his shield up the air to prevent an attacking Bracken rider to cut him in half. A stinging pain met his cheek as its wooden splitters carved their way into his skin. He knew the damn thing would not hold for long.
He knew exactly who he searched for, knew it didn't matter at all what he wanted for himself. Wet earth was trembling under his feet. Roaming his eyes over the meadow in quick motion, he raised his sword again, screaming furiously as he used it to block away the next soldier.
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Convincing himself that he was no green boy anymore, Aeron tossed aside the feeling of puking right on the ground as he witnessed through the corner of his eye how a distant relative was slain, an axe tearing his face into two halfs, leaving his eye in a mashed up red puddle.
It was his first real experience of war, first time he had taken the life of men. A horrible truth in contrast to what he had been supposed to be prepared for, of what he was looking forward to should the gods grant him his way out of this place.
Instead, he gave into the urge to let his knees sack, just low enough to dodge the knight aiming for his head, using all of his body strength and adrenaline building up to step forward, ramming his own sword into an unprotected place on the lower body of his aggressor.
His stance was executed well, but only so well that when the man fell, he still mastered enough control to swing his arm, sinking his weapon to the Brackens midriff in a mirroring motion, digging into his flesh deep beneath the chain mail as revenge.
Pupils widened as he pushed the other off his chest with a hiss, pressure lifting off his side as he stumbled slightly over his own feet. It felt worse than any hit in the courtyard, because this time it was aimed to kill him. False courtesy did not exist anymore, not here on this field.
Droplets of red already rolling down his wounded temple from a barely blocked dagger, golden strands of hair messily soaked in filth. He brought his hand to aid his waist, breathing out.
Not a second later he needed to push his sword back up, wielding it before his chest when it was Davos, who brought down his with an immense upper body weight.
As steel clashed once again, loud and unforgiving, it made his mind shift. The boys ragged breathing, blood dripping from his face whether it was his own or those of Aerons people, it did not matter.
Moving his hands to another grip, he managed to swing the Blackwoods blade out of the way.
It had been hard enough to gain him one moment of distraction, turning on his heel as his enemy was attacked by another.
He did not feel the pain of the cut flesh, but the water in his eyes, burning and blurring. Unable to hear his own breathing, only the sounds of his people set to meet the stranger.
The Bracken tried to calm the panic that was beginning to eat holes into his stomach. It boiled in him, engulfed him like the flames of the mill that could be seen burning even from a distance. It stood high, like a black flag of death dancing in the wind.
Few dark spots obscured his view, making it difficult for him to see through the chaos of his environment as he tried to stop the bleeding. It would not have cut this deep, had he been more cautious.
Few badly dodged swings regarded in his direction, one blow almost coming dangerously too close and a horse nearly running him over was all it took before his knees harshly met the grass. Salt tasted in his mouth, wether it came from snot, tears or blood he did not question.
It felt impossible to breathe as he lifted himself up to run, not taking chance of resting near the heat. In this direction, he thought, the sky was still blue.
With irregular gasps for air, his legs did not take him far until he fainly heard a sudden cry from behind.
"BRACKEN!"
He groaned and cursed himself, unable to identify who the voice belonged to, for he did not care.
He would rather face the wrath of his uncle later on, ensnare the lord with clever words, mere excuses to save his false honor.
Blood dripped from his knees as he went, chased by another who was slowly but steadily making his way over to the blonde. Aeron was still having the benefit of the distance. Stumbling up a wide lawn that rose to a small hill granted him no favour of any cover.
He had made his choice. Dismissed the battle, leaving his people to the fate. Just get over the hill, he told himself. Out here he might be served on a silver platter, but in the deeply woven greens of the forest, no eye could spot him.
A quick look over his shoulder in curiosity showed him a glimpse of a red, moving figure covered in blood and with an unmistakable hunger for more, seperating from the fighting crowd. Gulping, he turned away again, annoyed at the long hair that got caught in the wind and limited his vision, he kept running, careful not to trip over his own feet in the process.
"FACE ME BRACKEN!" The voice called out, a demand. "Fuck off!" He heard himself mutter, not loud enough to be heard as a reply.
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They went on for a while, until he finally reached the shelter of the forest.
Already close to the bushes,the boy steadily caught up and was hot on his heels.
As he swiftly jumped over the tall ferns at the entrance to the forest, he had to hold on to the branches of the smaller trees to avoid landing miserably on his face.
He felt the strength slowly draining from his limbs, armor growing unbearable, but he couldn't stop himself with the enemy on his back.
The boy was not a quiet pursuer, panting like a hound on the hunts he used to partake with his uncle and cousins.
With the help of quick glances behind him, he saw him approaching, his sword held tensely in front of him, though still maintaining the approach of a proper warrior.
Entering the quiet of the forest, he had slowed down his pace and was now stalking up to Aeron like a wolf cornering his prey.
Wildly overgrown blackberry thorns clung to his shins after every step, as if they were deliberately trying to hold him back. The boy repeated his name like a mantra, loud enough to give him new motivation to hurry up, for he knew this game of cat and mouse would not last very long.
"Bracken... Bracken, Bracken, Bra-cken." Echoed through the bushes, like a man possessed.
He had followed him all the way, not backing down nor speeding up. He did not know for how long they had been walking. The grass around him grew taller the more he went, surroundings darker.
"You craven!" The boy hissed angrily as he slid his sword through the vegetation, a vain attempt to let his frustration out.
'He will kill me', was Aerons last thought before his body was no longer his to control, stumbling over the creaking root of an old oak tree accompanied by a sharp pain spreading across his temple. The leaves made a rustling sound as they cushioned his fall.
Not being granted a long rest, he was jerked roughly on to his back moments later. He felt his knees hurt from the impact, his hands scraped from holding that sword and his mind unable to form a clear thought other than finally coming up with a name to go with that damn voice.
It was none other than Davos Blackwood.
Son of Samwell Blackwood, the lord of the House who led his army against Aerons uncle. The boy stood over him, had almost fallen over because he himself was exhausted from close combat, weakened in strength.
Davos regulated his breathing as he stood over him. Staring down with hateful gray eyes that reflected years of hatred accumulated between their houses.
Yet Aeron could do nothing other than meet his gaze emotionlessly, laying and waiting for the next step with his last bit of consciousness remaining.
His bloody lip twisted into a spiteful expression as he said "I swore to myself that it would be me who would kill you." His blade, with dried blood residue was still resting in his hands, ready to rise and strike him down should he decide to.
Aeron swallowed. The salty taste was in his mouth again and this time he was sure it was blood that was running down his nose past his lips. It took a moment before he found his voice and replied, "So do it."
The words left his lips as nothing more than a quiet whisper, rasped out from not using his vocal chords ever since the ride to the red arm was prepared. Voice breaking on him as he added, "And be done with all this bother."
The boys eyebrows twitched together in aggrevation, his deformed button nose wrinkling slightly at the bridge.
"You have not spared one word, were your pathetic death to come greet you?" He spat.
It was funny to Aeron, how he almost sounded expectant. He wanted to laugh, yet it escaped him as a subtle disappointed sigh. 'Why should i?' He almost replied, but could not.
Avoiding to look into the enemies eyes as one facing death honorably would, he turned away.
There was nothing honorable about him, he had betrayed his men, his family, instead of dutifully defending and serving his house as he was raised to do, as a real knight would have done instead. And for what? Because he had been scared in the heat of the battle?
"Do not dare turn your eyes!" Davos threatened and suddenly he felt the cold of metal on his throat. A cruel reminder of the position he was situated in. It only stayed there for a couple seconds until he lifted it forcefully over his shoulder, about to deliver the final blow, end the Bracken knights life once and for all.
Aeron now met his gaze with frightened eyes, because though he had told himself ever since he was a boy that he did not fear the stranger, it was naught but a lie.
For a moment he thought to recognize hesitation flashing over Davos face, but when he swung the blade, the fear in his stomach exploded, flinching like a startled deer.
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The blade never hit him.
It had stopped midway, as a horn was heard in far distance. The Blackwood turned away from him as if he had grabbed into hot coals and stumbled his way back out of the forest on quick feet.
The biting anxiety of fear had taken hold in Aeron. He listened to the boy disappear again, having to come to the realization that he had escaped his death by a hairs breadth and that it was not his own doing to be thankful for.
Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, he did not dare move a muscle after what had happened. The hour grew late, he had realized as he came down from the shock. Golden sunlight that cradled the nature had transformed to an orange glow, shimmering through the woods.
A laugh echoed from the meadows direction. It was short, malicious and announced the return of the boy dressed in red.
Despite the fact that the headache still hadn't subsided, the blonde lifted his head and used the less hurting hand to support his body upwards. As Davos came in sight, marching in his direction, a sadistic smile played upon his lips. He was not seeing it for the first time and was therefore able to assess the others mood well.
"They are calling back their Banner." He sneered, yanking the Bracken up his clothes. The fact that Aeron almost screamed in pain did not seem to be in his interest, agonizing him to "Get up!"
He had to concentrate on staying upright after Davos pushed him away. "You hear that? The damn Brackens are withdrawing their banners!"
For him, this seemed to be a celebratory verdict of victory. He was propably familiar with the feeling of being able to rely on his men. Aeron did not hold it against him, he hated himself for the fact he could not be that kind of man himself.
His hand had found a thick tree trunk to which he held on for security until he was able to be in control of his senses again.
The world was still spinning a little when he saw Davos was no longer holding that stupid grin on his face, but was back to staring at him in hatred. Aeron wondered what had happened to his plan of killing him.
He soon learned, when the boy started opening his mouth.
"I will take you hostage to Raventree." He stated. He still hadn't wiped the blood of his face, Aeron noted mentally.
"Mabye your uncle will pay me back handsomely." He explained as his gaze turned towards the clearing of the forest from which they had entered. A direction from which, a short while ago, faint blood coiling screams were emanating.
The Bracken scoffed. If it was one thing he knew, it was that his graceful uncle would not even consider trading a dead beat mule for him. After all, what was one nephew when you could father a thousand sons? For the sake of his own safety, he kept that to himself of course.
Now, there was an almost frightening silence around them. "Or perhaps he won't, and i can make good on my word to kill you." His eyelid twitched upward, most likely aggravated about his his taunting.
Only now and then, one could hear the crowing of a raven flying overhead, ironically so. It was almost as if the gods were making their jest of the Brackens, he thought.
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"You may do as you wish." He huffed. Perhaps it was a risky idea to embark on the way over the border alone, yet it seemed more tempting of a decision than the death sentence of marching through Raventrees doors.
"But i will return to stone hedge." He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, as if being able to defend himself against the Blackwood in his current condition.
His opponent laughed, teeth bared. "And walk right through Marband lands? The Lannisters might have declared for your usurper king Aegon, but there is still bad blood flowing between the Riverlands and the Westerners in case you should have forgotten."
Stepping close, he added "Though i suppose you'd deem it to be in your righteousness, Bracken cunt as you are."
"Fuck you!" The blonde spat, groaning when he was being recklessly punched in the stomach for it.
Aeron frowned, the smaller one started to get on his nerves. There was no way out of this situation, he was far too vulnerable. Being injured meant being slow. Neither fight or flight was an option.
In a scrunched up expression, Davos eyes narrowed, gliding over his body to appraise his condition. "Besides, you would not make it very far on your own anyway. That will let you lose blood like butchered cattle if its not tended to." Tilting his head, he used the tip of his sword to point toward the place Aeron had tightly held on to, trying to avoid just that.
"Yes, fetch me a maester if you will." He blurted defensively as he turned to limp the opposite way.
He hadn't taken two steps when he heard the hasty stomping, and the vague cracking of foliage beneath as he was apruptly grabbed by the shoulder and spun around, back colliding forcefully against a tree.
He supressed the sound of a whince leaving his throat at the impact. The raven haired boy had unnoticably drawn his dagger and was now pressing the blade against his neck for a second time. Unlike the longsword from before, the shorter weapons pressure was far more opressive.
Finally, he blinked the gloomy look away.
"T'was not an invitation, but an instruction." He growled, meeting his distraught gaze with cold eyes.
Becoming aware of his position as a prisoner, Aeron swallowed his remaining pride and simply accepted his fate. It was either being killed now, or losing his head at the damn Blackwood hive itself.
The blonde was thrown to the side, obligated to walking infront of the other like a kicked dog.
He did not face the boy again, relying on the hope of having chosen the correct direction. And to his great satisfaction, Davos did not say any more.
Paving their way through the foreign vegetation that neither of them seemed to be very familiar with, Aeron lifted his chin, big brown eyes staring into the small sections of the sky, revealed through the protection of numerous leaves.
Feeling a wet droplet of water landing directly on his nose, he knew it would rain soon.