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Lord Serrett did not live long enough to see Robb's ice armor crack apart.
The red-stained plates loosened, splintered, and fell from Robb's body in pale fragments. Bloodwind's armor vanished a few breaths later, dissolving into mist. Robb's eyes returned to their normal blue, while Bloodwind's eyes glowed gold again.
Link had broken.
Bloodwind's magic had been almost completely spent.
Smalljon's cavalry struck Serrett's men from behind just as Tytos led Riverrun's defenders into their front. The five thousand Lannister soldiers held for a little while, then buckled. Some fled. More threw down their weapons.
The wildfire trap burned itself out in patches of green flame. Around the ruined road, northern infantry, Westerlands prisoners who had chosen Robb, and newly turned Riverlands recruits closed in to take captives.
Then the heavy cavalry arrived.
Branches had been dragged behind the horses to raise dust, making three thousand riders look like a much larger force from a distance. It had been a trick meant to hold Tywin's eyes while the light cavalry crossed the Red Fork.
Robb had kept his true strength back until the right moment.
Now that moment had come.
The heavy cavalry charged through the broken Lannister lines and finished the rout.
Robb did not linger to savor victory. He rode after Tywin with Smalljon and the fastest cavalry.
They caught sight of the lion banner before long.
Tywin waited on a stretch of open ground with several hundred Lannister riders around him. Behind him, the remaining cavalry and the thirteen thousand ambushers who should have been hidden nearby had vanished into the woods.
Bloodwind growled.
Robb raised his hand, and the pursuit slowed.
He smelled it too, through Bloodwind.
Wildfire.
Tywin watched him from across the field. The old lion's expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp.
Robb understood.
This was not courage. It was a second trap.
Tywin had prepared for defeat before the battle even began.
After a long moment, Tywin turned his horse and left. A signal rose from the trees behind him.
Fire arrows fell.
The second wildfire trap erupted.
It was smaller than the first, but branches and brush had been packed around it to make the green flames burn longer and wider. Heat rolled over the field, cutting off the pursuit.
Robb watched the fire climb and felt a measure of respect despite himself.
Tywin Lannister had lost, but even in defeat he had tried to take the next move away.
Robb turned Bloodwind around.
"Lord Tywin has fled!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the field. "The old lion ran like a cowardly dog. Victory belongs to the North and the Riverlands!"
The soldiers roared.
"Tonight, Riverrun feasts. Merits will be counted. Rewards will be given."
The roar grew louder.
"The King in the North!"
"The King in the North, the Iron Islands, and the Riverlands!"
The cry rolled across the battlefield until even the wounded seemed to hear it.
Far from Riverrun, in a hidden village in the Riverlands, the day was quiet.
Women washed blood from armor and weapons beside the water. Children ran between low houses, laughing as if war had not swallowed the world outside. Smoke rose from cooking fires. The smell of stew drifted through the air.
Beric Dondarrion stood at the edge of the village and watched them.
For once, he smiled.
He had fought for justice, vengeance, faith, and the smallfolk. But in that moment, all he wanted was for these people to live warm, ordinary lives.
Thoros of Myr came to stand beside him with a skin of wine in his hand.
"A sight worth drinking to," Thoros said.
Beric glanced at him. "You would call anything worth drinking to."
"And I would be right more often than not."
The moment did not last.
Qyburn appeared from behind them and looked down at Beric's leg. Red sores had spread there, dark and angry, and blood had seeped through the cloth.
"It has worsened," Qyburn said.
Thoros frowned. "Beric?"
"It hurts less than it should," Beric said. "Since my deaths, pain has become a strange thing."
Qyburn crouched and studied the wound closely. "Too much poison-kiss flower. That must be the side effect. It also explains why the potion failed to work as cleanly as expected."
"Can you fix it?"
"I can try." Qyburn's eyes brightened in a way that made Thoros uneasy. "I will remake the mixture."
A Brotherhood man hurried over.
"My lord, Jaime Lannister is awake."
Beric's expression hardened.
"Bring him to the prayer hall. Bring the Hound as well."
The Brotherhood's refuge lay in caves beyond the village. In the prayer hall, torches burned along the stone walls. Sandor Clegane and Jaime Lannister were brought in bound.
Sandor's eyes found the three children near Brienne at once. Only after seeing them safe did some of the tension leave his shoulders.
Jaime, pale from fever but awake, worked his fingers subtly against his bindings.
Beric sat before them with Thoros at his side.
"Sandor Clegane," Beric said first. "You have killed innocent men and women. You served the Lannisters and their cruel king. What do you say?"
Sandor's burned face twisted.
"Aye. I did. I was their dog." He looked toward the children. "How much does a man pay to stop being one? Fingers? A hand? Not the right hand, if your god is listening. I need that one to protect them."
Jaime laughed softly.
"Look at that. The mad dog bites his master and calls it redemption."
Sandor bared his teeth but did not move.
Thoros lifted his voice. "The man has confessed. The Lord of Light offers redemption to those who step out of darkness."
"The night is dark and full of terrors," Beric said.
Sandor gave the words an awkward, rough echo. "The night is dark and full of terrors."
Jaime looked at Thoros more closely.
"Thoros of Myr. I remember you. The drunken priest with the flaming sword. You used to perform tricks in tourneys and call it faith."
His gaze shifted to Beric.
"And now you and your one-eyed corpse act as if you can trick peasants into believing you speak for a god."
Beric rose.
"You stand accused of crimes against the Riverlands, Jaime Lannister."
"By whom? Bandits?"
"By the dead."
Jaime smiled. "The dead are poor witnesses."
"Then answer in trial by combat."
The hall went still.
Jaime's eyes sharpened. "You will give me a sword?"
"A sword and a dagger."
"Then your god has a sense of humor."
His bonds were cut. His weapons were returned. Sandor crossed to the children, pulled them into a brief, rough embrace, then nodded once to Brienne. She answered with a cool nod of her own.
Jaime took the sword in his right hand and the dagger in his left.
Beric lifted his own blade and prayed.
Flame ran along the steel.
Jaime tilted his head. "You looked better before the missing eye."
Beric did not answer.
He stepped forward with fire in his hand.
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