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"I don't understand why everyone keeps talking about how I was once trapped at Storm's End."
"As if this battlefield on the Blackwater is doomed to be bad luck for us."
Joffrey leaned against the battlements, staring at that bald head gleaming in the sunlight. He was silently providing the voice-over for Stannis in his head.
Would he really think that?
Would he?
Jaime stood next to him, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
"I heard people say Stannis is pure iron—black, hard, and unbreakable."
"But I've never seen anyone this stubborn. Instead of fighting us, the crazy bastard goes after his own brother first! Hahahaha!"
The fight down below had turned into total chaos.
Stannis never had many archers—just a thin line of maybe a hundred men who looked like hunters hastily drafted from Crackclaw Point. Like the defenders on the walls, his ranged troops relied mostly on crossbows. They couldn't suppress the battlements. Drawing and aiming a bow from a rocking ship was asking too much.
The pirates had brought plenty of throwing weapons, but against fifteen-foot walls they were useless.
So their attack was still the same old human wave—throwing bodies at the stone.
But as they pressed forward, their flank suddenly collapsed.
The very lords who should have been his bannermen weren't just refusing to fight for him—they were stabbing him in the back.
The Conningtons' little conspiracy with King's Landing was a secret to most. Once they struck first, the other Stormlands lords couldn't stand by and watch their allies get cut to pieces. They had to help.
The people of the Stormlands had their pride.
Unlike the wide plains of the Crownlands, the Stormlands were rugged hills and dense forests. The long coastline was full of rocks—no good for a navy or trade. Caught between Dorne, the Reach, and the old Riverlands, it had seen constant war.
Hard land bred hard men. The Stormlanders had fighting spirit in spades. They were masters of defense, and their castles were tougher than most.
Good at defending meant good at shooting.
Stormlands bowmen were famous throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
Under unified command, more than a thousand archers formed tight wedge formations and began raining arrows down on Stannis's army.
They couldn't shoot at the men already clashing with their own side or those actively scaling the walls. That left one obvious target.
The would-be clever pirates suddenly found themselves under a storm of arrows.
Shafts fell like driving rain. Dropping from above gave them extra power, punching straight through cheap stolen armor into shoulders and backs.
The pirates frantically raised their shields, only to realize they were trapped in a crossfire. Crossbowmen on the walls seized the opening and loosed another volley, dropping dozens more exposed men in seconds.
The pirates broke and ran for the river again.
But Stannis's household guards held the crossing firm.
Lightbringer tasted blood for the first time that day.
Just like the stories said, it cut down his own men first.
After hacking through several pirates trying to steal boats and flee, Stannis finally steadied the line.
Joffrey raised his hand, signaling the defenders to hold fire.
He saw that the few hundred men led by the Conningtons hadn't achieved much with their surprise attack. They were a small house now—just landed knights. Their lordly title had been stripped after Robert's Rebellion. They didn't carry much weight among the Stormlands lords.
This was probably just them making a show of it, delivering an early token of loyalty to Joffrey.
Their move wasn't strange, either. The Stormlands lords had crossed the river thinking both King's Landing and Stannis had bled each other dry. They were here to pick up the pieces.
They'd even raised the same crowned stag banners.
Joffrey's thought was cold: What kind of king are you to fly my banner?
"Long live the king!"
The common soldiers didn't know the details. They only saw fighting break out below and thought friendly forces had arrived. Cheers rose up and down the walls.
The wildfire in the river had burned itself out, leaving only broken wreckage on the bottom. The remaining Stormlands troops on the south bank decided rafts were too slow. They used the charred hulks to build floating bridges.
More and more Stormlanders gathered on the north bank, forming up over three thousand men near the King's Gate to the southwest.
These were real household troops—battle-hardened and dangerous. And most of their army hadn't crossed yet.
Joffrey was worried.
Stannis had to be worried too.
And Joffrey knew Stannis's defining trait: he held grudges. When he got angry, he ground his teeth.
Ever since Joffrey could remember, Robert had complained about it. Stannis griping again, saying things weren't fair. Storm's End should have been his. The Stormlands should have been his. Why give them to Renly?
The more Stannis complained, the more Robert enjoyed twisting the knife—promising fair treatment, then laughing later about how he'd fooled the sour-faced bastard one more time.
So when betrayal hit him yet again, Stannis snapped.
Enough was enough.
He pulled his men back from the walls and personally led them west.
One overly optimistic advisor's eyes lit up.
"Great opportunity!" Jaime shouted. "Little Joff—Your Grace! We should sally out through the King's Gate right now and hit them while they're tangled up!"
One pessimistic advisor shut him down at once.
"You trying to die again, dear brother?" Tyrion sneered. "Our men are already exhausted. Holding off Stannis was hard enough."
"Besides, Renly's archers outnumber ours and have better range. The three western gates aren't completely sealed. They could break in there."
"We don't have fresh troops left to send out."
Jaime started to argue.
"Also," Tyrion added, lowering his voice and glancing around, "things aren't looking good at the Dragon Gate. Ser Barristan has already lost the outer wall."
"We set traps in the alleys, but only the Others know how long they'll hold."
"The Hand has been gone a long time and hasn't come back."
"He might be…"
Speak of the devil.
Eddard climbed the steps, red-faced and breathing hard.
"Your Grace, gather troops immediately and ride out to meet them!"
Joffrey and the others turned.
"The Red Crab has seized the northern shore. He's taken control of every ship Stannis left there."
"The Velaryons are trapped in the city. Ser Barristan killed the Lord of Driftmark himself."
"The enemy has surrendered. The siege on the northern wall is lifted."
Eddard drew a deep breath. His eyes shone with a light they hadn't seen in days.
"Your Grace—reinforcements have arrived."
"My son has arrived."