The morning mist was dispersing and the sun was rising when I finally saw the first lines of the Lannister army.

We had already packed up the tents in front of our formation as they accomplished their purpose already.

From my position, first line in front, I could see the gleaming steel of spear tips and the proud Westerland's banners. The Marbrand's burning tree, the Brax's purple unicorn, Crakehall's black and white boar and many more were in front of us. Intersped between them, I could see clear as day the golden lion on crimson field of the Lannisters. I think I'd struggle to find a more intimidating picture in my life.

And yet, I didn't feel agitated.

It was an odd thing, I've never seen battle, my first life was as ordinary as it could be. A simple student pursuing a PhD on industrial steel production shouldn't be able to stand here in my place and not have his knees buckle under him.

Maybe I'm not nervous because I know that death is not the end?. Perhaps it is because someone or something, or whatever entity brought me here in Westeros gave me a gift? Similar to my vodka production knowledge I mean.

Ghost gave the enemy lines a low growl.

I could hear, in the distance, the sounds of soldier's feet hitting the ground, the cacophony of an army taking position, unnerving and oddly soft from the distance.

And I still didn't feel nervous.

There was another possibility, mayhaps my mind just blocked everything. Maybe I'm just so stressed that my mind shut itself off as a coping mechanism? I clench and unclench my hands.

I don't think that's the case.

Even if it were, a good ol' cheek slapping would wake me enough to keep me grounded, probably. Just to be sure, I thought to just apply a preventing cheek slap, just to be sure.

Thank the gods I stopped myself before punching my face with my gauntleted hand, I would have knocked a few teeth otherwise. I lowered my helmet's visor and secured its strap before another great idea could make it's way into my head.

Warhorns from the right flank started blowing, I heard them like the thunder you hear from a distant storm, low and booming. The Lannister's trumpets answered, they were shrill and piercing.

They reminded me of the why I'm here. Why my brother is here.

I contracted my muscles to not give in to my rage. Ghost stood from my side and gave the Lannister army a snarl, as if feeling what I was.

For the first time that morning, I was a bit nervous, not afraid I quickly realized, eager, painfully so. I wanted to crush these fuckers for arresting Father under nonsensical charges.

Sadly, the knights in front of us didn't move yet. So I needed something else for this sudden burning rage I felt. I took my left fist and knocked my plate rhythmically. One, two; one, two. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough. I started smashing the butt of my halberd on the ground. And then a snarl escaped me from the depths of my soul.

"FOR WINTERFELL!"

Even the Seven supported the Lannister campaign. Why else would the incessant rains that plague the Riverlands stop mere days before they face the Stark boy?

While his brother Tywin would scoff at these thoughts, Kevan knew that the Seven were on their side. Or rather, on his brother's side, Tywin has been one of the most successful Lords of the Rock, few could claim to have put down a vassal's rebellion, fought and won a foreign war, being named Hand of the King bringing stability to the Realm not seen since the Conciliator and won the Baratheon brute his crown with barely a drop of blood from his men.

There was a time in his youth, when Kevan resented his birth as second son. But that was then, now however… now Kevan had no doubts, his brother was the eldest as a mandate from the gods. After all, he couldn't see himself achieving half of what his brother did in the same position and as such, Kevan shed the resentment from his youth and became the dutiful brother he is today.

Back in the camp, dawn received them with a probe attack from the enemy's scouts. A sound strategy had it not been for the lacking number of riders that tried to attack them. It took their sentries and their own light cavalry mere minutes to clear the attack and then carry out reconnaissance of their own.

The news Ser Marbrand scouts brought, confirmed what his brother is so fond of saying: 'When soldiers lack discipline, the fault lies with their lord commander.'

The Stark camp didn't even finished packing their tents when they launched their attack. Had Tywin launched a light cavalry attack of his own instead of a reconnaissance mission, then the Stark boy's host would've lost a fourth of its number before the sun was up.

Alas, his brother's cautious nature would not allow him to take risks like that, no matter how below him his opponent was.

There was one crucial thing the incident at dawn revealed, however. The Stark was but a green boy. Rash and headstrong.

Tywin's plans are going to succeed, as always.

The one think Kevan would give to the Stark host, was that their scouts were superb, most likely because they were not commanded by the Stark boy. Even Ser Addam as their scouts' lord commander, they couldn't best the Stark scouts. Kevan suspected this was due to familiarity with the terrain, Tywin suspected the Stark scouts were under the Blackfish's command.

It didn't matter how well the Starks did on that front, however. Scout skirmishers can't decide a battle on their own.

Their host marched fast and formed ranks just as fast. And now, Kevan could glimpse the Stark boy's host in front of him. He recognized the bull moose of the Hornwoods, the Karstark sunburst, Cerwyn battle-axe, the mailed fist of the Glovers, the merman of the Manderly and more. The grey direwolf on white field was everywhere.

Back in the Stark cavalry reserves, he recognized a banner that confirmed his brother's intuition. A black trout on a blue and red field. The Blackfish.

Kevan looked to his right, there across from Ser Marbrand's position there was one banner that distinguished itself from the rest. A white direwolf on a grey field, presumably the Stark's boy bastard brother, another green boy.

Kevan scoffed, the day is as good as ours. Today, the godless Northerners shall fall to the faithful Westerlanders might.

Kevan looked to their vanguard, around a thousand strong under Ser Gregor Clegane's command. Archers in leather jerkins, freeriders and sellswords, farmers on plow horses and the savages following Tyrion.

The center under his command had separated on each side of the kingsroad, three lines of foot archers with pikemen between them behind them men-at-arms armed with spear, sword and axe. Surrounding Kevan, were three hundred heavy horse and the lords Lefford, Lydden and Serret and their own retainers. In total they were ten thousand.

To the right, Ser Marbrand had four thousand heavy cavalry ready to smash the Northern formations.

And on reserve, Tywin had around five thousand men, half cavalry and half foot. He would pass the final sentence for the Northerners.

Across the field, Kevan could see the Northern army's wings were only foot with the cavalry all in the center and in reserve. Kevan could see the reasoning behind this, the Northern cavalry wasn't heavy, their riders were armored but their horses were not, or at least not as armored as the Westerland's own.

Coursers and sturdy garrons handled the cold better, but were not as tall or strong as the destriers the Westerlanders could field, therefore they would be looking to flank them.

As predictable as the North's positioning was, there was one thing that gave Kevan pause. The northern pikemen were armored in their totality. All of them wearing helmets and plate, and while from his position wasn't clear, Kevan could recognize shin guards and vambraces too.

It was unclear how the North was able to armor their whole host. From Pycelle they knew that the crown saw its tax revenue increase from the North, however extrapolating that amount wasn't enough to armor this many men.

There was only one explanation, the Starks were stealing from the crown, they probably found a silver mine or two somewhere in one of their desolate wastelands and, just like the savages they were, they bought all the steel they could find instead of investing in roads and developing their lands.

One more crime the Starks have to answer for, the crown would have its due.

However, be it armored or not, plowhands made poor soldiers. They may stand their ground longer, but in the end, knights would reign supreme.

The other difference Kevan could see, was the length of their pikes. The entirety of the Northern wings, were wielding those lengthy pikes. Did they thought they could blunt a cavalry charge with those? Soon, those savages would learn from their mistake.

They were mere minutes from Tywin sounding the trumpets for the vanguard to advance when from the Northern center two units detached themselves, they were… carrying enormous shields… what was their purpose? Were they going to charge under that cover against his archers? Or they were to cover their flanks from cavalry? Kevan couldn't understand the purpose of those men.

It was then that Kevan heard a warhorn, its voice low, chilling as a cold wind in the night. The Northern right advanced. Trumpets from his left answered, Ser Gregor roared and the vanguard moved to attack.

Kevan sent the order for his archers to support the vanguard and readied his commanders to wheel to the left when the Stark boy overcommitted.

On the Northern right wing, the soldiers started hitting the butts of their spears on the ground and banging their armor with their fists. He heard clanking sounds from that flank and then hollering from the whole line.

The battle on the Green Fork had started.

To think he would fight under the command of two different Starks in his lifetime… Jon Umber felt like he could die with no regrets. Ahh, but first I have to kill my share of lions, after that… happy, no regrets. A blissful smile carved itself on his face.

"Forward you cunts! I'm taking first blood! Ahahaha!"

Ned was barely a man when they came South to gain King Robert his crown and Jon couldn't help but wonder what would they win this time.

The Lannister vanguard was some two hundred feet away from them when he stopped his lines, "Butts down, spears up!" the vanguard was one hundred and fifty feet away. "Brace! Brace yourselves!" The whole pike square screamed back at him. This is what life is about.

He expected arrows to fall on them like hail, they fell like a drizzle instead. Their own shielded archers were properly doing their job it seemed.

When the Lannister vanguard was fifty feet away, the crossbows and archers hidden inside the pike square unleashed death upon the riders. Many Westerlander cunts died like that, down by arrow or bolt.

The vanguard didn't stop though. Good.

His men were perfectly in 'charge for horse' formation, both hands wielding their eighteen feet pikes forward to act like a wall.

Half the horses shied away from the pikes, the other half skewered themselves. The Mountain fell down his horse and half a dozen pikes started pummeling him. Sadly, the man was a good forty feet away from Jon.

Scenes like that were repeating all along the front, men skewered or pummeled down before they could approach his men.

It took a while since the charge was blunted, but a hairy man wielding two axes came charging at his position on foot. Finally, time for fun.

Even before Jon could unsheathe his sword, the man was skewered by three different pikes. He let out a disappointed sigh. I may just take one of those pikes for myself.

His archers and crossbowmen never stopped shooting.

From the corner of his eye he could see the Mountain got up and was regrouping with his men. Jon Umber read the flow of the battle, their enemy wasn't going to assault them again, they would stay well beyond the reach of their pikes. A wolfish smirk formed broke on his face.

"Forward!" he thundered. "Time to finish these cunts!"

The cunts in question seemed frightened of him. Fucking cravens. He rolled his eyes.

Jon took a look to his left, and saw men move forward from the pikes, they all were carrying halberds. Gods bleed me. To think the Manderlys charged before me.

"Halberds, to me!" He unsheathed his greatsword at last. "Give these fuckers a taste of Northern steel. Charge!"

His men hollered with him, "Eddard!" he heard, so he added to the men's screams. "For Eddard and Winterfell!"

The Westerland cunts seemed about to shit their pants and finally, finally Jon would blood his sword.

The first man, he cleaved from the shoulder to the hip. To his right, a halberdier pulled a leather armored rider from his horse and the one behind pummeled the fallen man, Jon heard the crunch of broken bones. Gods, I should've trained my levies too.

Lords Manderly and Karstark had started training their levies similar to how the Starks did, due to both houses having daughters close in age to Robb. 'Court the Lord to court the son'. Since the Umbers didn't have a daughter to betroth, Jon simply hadn't followed his liege on this.

Jon raised his sword once more, the man in front of him was trembling on his horse, like leaves do when winter comes. "For Eddard!" he roared, and continued his slicing and stabbing and killing.

Things weren't going as planned and Leo Lefford was tasked to correct it.

Their vanguard was breaking yes, but it wasn't as they were expecting. The Northeners didn't as much bend with the charge with the Mountain as its head.

Leo Lefford was sent then to reinforce them with a thousand pikemen. The original plan didn't change, but they needed the Stark boy to overcommit.

If only our archers weren't so useless.

The moment their archers moved to rain death upon the Northern line, they were rained on instead. The Stark boy sent his own archers, the men he had seen carrying those big shields, started shooting volley after volley and the Lannister archers started falling one after another.

They tried to answer with volleys of their own, but the Stark archers planted their shields and took cover. They didn't budge an inch.

Leo harried his men to charge forward, they couldn't afford to lose their left flank. Not this way and not this early at least.

Lord Lefford gave the center field an appraising look. Those shielded archers needed to be dealt with, he was sure Ser Kevan knew that as well.

It was a blowback, but a minor one all things considered. The Stark boy will be dead or kneeling before the day is over.

Robb allowed his hands to unclench when he saw his vanguard hold.

It had been a bet, a calculated one, but a bet nonetheless. One he took only because his brother vowed the armored pikemen would stand their ground.

Those levies were trained and drilled, they were the best the Northern levies could offer. He was now, sure of that.

In the center, the war of archers was already decided with his men having decisively won the exchange. The big shields they carried slowed them quite a bit, but results spoke for themselves. The Lannister archers were being slaughtered and were starting to retreat.

Robb's first instinct was to let his archers keep their position and attack the reinforcements the Lannister center sent to aid their vanguard. The time it took him to decide… spelled disaster for his lines.

The Lannister center sent heavy cavalry to break Robb's archers, around fifty and two hundred knights "Sound the archers retreat," he ordered calmly, or feigning calm at least. "Ser Helman, advance the western pikemen, do it fast."

"Aye, my lord," came the knight's reply together with the horns.

Robb bit his tongue and looked anxiously at the heavy horse charge. My archers are about to suffer heavy casualties, all because I couldn't decide on time.

"Lady Mormont, forward the east pikemen," Robb instructed.

"The Lannisters will taste my steel!" Lady Maege said, "I'll leave some for you Robett, no need to worry."

His archers started their methodical retreat slow, until they realized the crimson knights coming for them. Shields were forgotten, men started running to the safety of the center lines. They weren't going to make it.

Robb wanted to punch himself. Apparently, he is but a green boy after all.

Before his guilt consumed him, fortune favored Robb. The Lannister knights crashed against their own retreating archers, slowing their charge long enough for Ser Helman's pikemen to reach his archers.

For the second time this day, Robb let his hands relax.

The Lannister knights didn't commit to crash onto Ser Helman's lines. They received good Northern hospitality all the same. Some knights fell with crossbow bolts on them, a few others had their mounts slain, the rest turned their backs and rode like demons were about to descend on them.

Robb saw the Lannister knights return to the center lines. Trumpets sounded and the Lannisters center started moving forward.

He called a messenger forward, "Tell Ser Helman to link up with the vanguard," once the messenger left, Robb directed his gaze to Ser Jammos Frey. "I expect Ser Marbrand to send forward his knights soon. Lady Maege has orders to not link up with our left flank. Prepare two hundred riders to cover either our left or our center from any flanking attempt."

"It shall be done, my lord," bowed the Frey knight.

"Ser Martyn, do the same. You are on the second wave."

"Aye, my lord," the baseborn knight nodded and left.

With this, Robb was baiting two flanking attempts and preparing a counter charge on them. Something like that shouldn't be possible with untrained levies, but luckily for him he had barely enough disciplined men to attempt this.

Robb had been doubtful of enacting this plan of his… until he had seen his right wing crush the first Lannister charge. After that, his confidence on them soared to new heights.

Ser Marbrand's force needed to commit for his plans to realize, however. Come on southron knight. You won't find an easy opening, just charge forward.

His Brother's original plan was to fortify their position and dig ditches all along their lines. Robb knew that doing so wouldn't work, or rather it wouldn't work as well as his brother seemed to hope.

Tywin was cautious, uncle Brynden said. He wouldn't commit his whole force in one charge, the moment his vanguard found death on a ditch Tywin would understand Robb's battle plan and then turn on his heels and burn and pillage whatever was left in the Riverlands, reversing the roles and making the Northern host the pursuers.

Therefore, in order to bleed the Lannister knights dry, they dug only the wing that would face the Lannister's heavy cavalry. To wait for the Lannister's to appear in the horizon would be nerve-wracking, or so he was told. The moment the plan settled in his head, Robb had no doubts the Lannister would form as expected.

Vanguard on their left, foot on the center and heavy cavalry on their right.

It didn't stop him from sighing in relief when he saw the opposing host though. And so, the plan was a go. They will rout the Lannister host.

To make this idea into a reality, they did everything in their power to keep their center and right wing from giving ground. First, the choosing of commanders. Jon Umber was a fearless man capable of seeing death directly in the eyes and roar in laughter. The men under his command would never lose morale before the tall Lord Umber stopped laughing. Ser Helman and Lady Mormont were veterans of Robert's Rebellion and they also campaigned on the Iron Islands. They were daring but with caution born from experience, they would steadily push the center and every inch the lions took back would be paid dearly in blood.

Next, the shielded archers. They were his brother's doing, "Our pikemen aren't in need of shields anymore, let's nail down two together and create mobile cover for our archers," he had said.

Those same archers did a number on the Lannister vanguard as well as their enemy counterparts. And blessedly, Robb didn't lose them to the Lannister knights.

The second to last piece of this plan rested on the shoulders of the left wing under Lord Bolton. They had the least amount of 'elite soldiers', but the first Lannister charge will be blunted if not completely stopped by the defensive ditches they had. After that it was on them to break the knights.

It was almost two hours of fighting when the center and right wing linked. Robb's archers were raining hell over the Lannister's own. From his position, Robb witnessed the Lannister archers losing heart with each volley, before the battle they were double his archers, by now they had similar numbers.

Everyone cautioned him that no amount of training was going to make his men fight under a hail of arrows, so his archer units played a twofold role. They attracted enemy arrows like an open wound attracted infection, and in the process they'd cull the enemy archers and then focus on the enemy lines.

Then, there was the last piece of the plan. But first, the Lannister's needed to commit their whole force.

Robb directed his gaze toward the gap that formed between his left flank and center. He was sure Ser Marbrand was tempted to attack there, but if he did, he risked a wheel from the North's left wing. Robb would lose good men (the thought of knowingly send leal men to their graves irked him greatly), but Ser Marbrand would be delivering himself if he chose to commit his whole force.

No, Robb couldn't see Ser Marbrand risk such an grievous mistake, not after the Lannister vanguard was all but mauled in the first stage of battle. But he also knew how men grew unsteady while the battle raged around them. I'm feeling it first hand after all.

"It should be soon, my lord," came the grave voice of Robett Glover. "Be it on the orders of Marbrand or the old lion. They will charge our left wing soon."

That was good, "Aye, I was thinking the same," but Robb still felt conflicted. An attack on the left wing was an attack on his brother.

When they were completing the battle plan, Robb intended to lead the center from inside the formation. "Father always led from the front," he had said.

It was not to be. His brother and uncle raised valid concerns and reasons to persuade him. Chief among them, the times Father led from the front, he wasn't the most important man of the host.

Was it then hypocritical of Jon to go ahead and lead from the front? Yes, yes it was and no word from Jon or uncle Brynden would change his mind.

Robb felt it then. A change in the air. As if the world felt sharper for a moment. "Here it comes," he said.

His sub-commander turned to him, "What is?"

Robb didn't need to answer, the Lannister right wing was moving forward. He stole the sun a glance, they were on time, just barely.

Now it all depended on his left flank to stand their ground and on the center to cull the Lannister soldiers to force Lord Tywin's hand and commit his reserves.

Robb took a long breath. This was it, the battle was coming to an end one way or another.