WARS TO COME, game of thrones

𝐕𝐈𝐈. red

𝟐𝟖𝟑 𝐀𝐂

The wind tugged at Anrir's hair as he looked down from a hill overlooking the valley where the Trident stretched out before them. With the sound of hooves, Robert, Eddard and his father approached. Hoster Tully had stayed with the troops. A falcon soared through the air above them, its hoarse song reminding Anrir painfully of the warm security of the Eyrie. His hand rested on Beast's hilt.

"They'll be here soon," his father said softly as the falcon settled on his shoulder. Robert nodded, the calm seemed to have infected even him. The calm before the storm.

They had ridden through the night and arrived before the Loyalists. Anrir's legs ached from riding but his hands tingled with excitement and his heart leapt. The air seemed to vibrate with battle lust, even the rudest of Northmen had fallen silent in the morning hours, sharpening their swords in quiet anticipation. A pack of wolves about to hunt.

Anrir's gaze slid to Eddard, who looked like the alpha of the pack with his hair tied back and his armor on. Anrir wished he could take Ned's hand and tell him he loved him one last time before the battle. Instead, he gave his horse a light pat, making it follow those of the others.

"The soldiers of the Stormlands will attack first," Robert decided in his roaring tone that made him audible to the entire army, "Then the soldiers of the Vale with the riverlanders to our left and last the Northmen. Ned, Jon, Lord Tully?" there was a murmur of approval. "Anrir, you command the soldiers of the Vale. You are younger and stronger than I, and so more useful on the front lines than I," his father raised his voice calmly and Anrir's eyes widened, but he bowed his head respectfully and took his position on horseback at the head of his troops.

He took a deep breath, stroking his thumb over Beasts engraved hilt, which was pleasantly cold in his hand. He was looking forward to leading Beast in battle, he realized, smiling to himself. He had been excited for hours during the ride through the night, but now he felt calm. He had nothing to fear. He was the beast of the Vale and he would show them, all of them.

His father's falcon circled above them, soaring over the Trident. Anrir envied him for the wings that could take him anywhere. Minutes passed and then the bird returned to his father, landing on his shoulder, cawing excitedly. "They're here," Jon Arryn spoke, and it was so quiet that his calm voice could be heard for miles.

Anrir filled his lungs with the fresh air of the Trident. The course of today's battle could change everything. He looked at Ned and Robert, his best friends. Hadn't they been children yesterday, dreaming of adventure?

Then Robert's war howl broke the silence and his powerful stallion spurred on, followed by the warriors of the Stormlands. The roar of the horses seemed to make Anrir's chest vibrate and he swallowed hard. His fingertips tingled and his horse snorted, scuffling with its hooves as if it sensed his excited desire to fight. Soon the chant of steel on steel and dying men reached him and it seemed more beautiful to Anrir than anything he had ever heard before.

He turned to the soldiers of the Vale, briefly catching the gaze of his father, who gave him a slight but affirming nod. And before Hoster Tully could say anything, Anrir drew Beats and raised his black sword into the air: "Fight!"

His horse shot off and the power of the Vale followed him like a wave down into the hollow where the Trident lay. The smell of blood hit him like a wall and Anrir realized that the Stormlands had already done a lot of damage. In the distance, he heard Rob's booming voice shouting orders.