Once word came of Stannis' ships appearing, Jon left to prepare with Edric. Jon wore gray beneath his black plate harness which he wore while earning his knighthood, the silk streamers still set upon the ridge of his close helmet. Once he was secure, Jon helped Edric don his own set which Jon had bought for him weeks earlier. Jon has purchased a gray surcoat with a red eyed white direwolf across the front while Edric wore a lavender one with a white sword and falling star across the chest.
Jon had also purchased barding for their coursers, coating each in light plates and mail beneath caparisons matching their surcoats. While Edric wore his dagger and longsword much like Jon, he also had a two handed sword secured to his saddle while Jon would wield a lance. Each saddle also held shields bearing their sigils as well as a bow and quiver he'd bought in case they had to fall back to the city walls.
Thoros wore his usual armor, though it was mostly hidden beneath his robes. He also purchased a jug of wine which hung from his saddle along with six swords ready to be sacrificed to wildfire. While Edric would be squiring to his knight, and Jon would be with his lord, Thoros would be in the fray.
Jon and Edric followed Tyrion and Podrick along the city walls late in the afternoon. Jon found it odd seeing Tyrion dressed in armor with a battle-axe slung below his shield. The Imp's armor paled in comparison to the king's gilded mail, enameled crimson plate and helm baring a lion's head.
It wasn't hard to tell Tyrion was keeping Joffrey occupied so he would remain on the wall and keep up morale. When he saw the boy growing bored, Jon stepped away from Tyrion and made his way to the king. Osmund Kettleback, a new kingsguard assigned to guard the king, put a hand on his hilt and eyed Jon as he called to the king.
"Your grace," Jon said, making the tall boy turn to him. "That seems a resplendent sword on your side."
Joffrey smirked at that, drawing the blade. "I call it Hearteater." He slashed with it a few times before moving to sheath his own and nodding to Jon's. "What of yours? Why is it so thin?"
"I thought it best for moving quickly and slipping into gaps," he said tapping the pommel. "More than enough to end a life."
Joffrey laughed, motioning for him to draw it. "Let us see." Jon bowed his head, drawing the blade and turning so he wasn't facing the king as he slashed with it. It seemed quicker than Joffrey's, but that had more to do with Jon than the blade. When the knight sheathed the blade, the king asked, "Have you named it?"
"Aye," Jon nodded, noticing that Osmund had turned his attention to Tyrion and few others were paying them attention. For a moment he considered slashing and opening the king's throat, which helped him smile as he answered. "Compared to my armor the blade's color is light, so I thought to call it White Fang."
Joffrey grinned. "I hope to see your fang turned red today, Ser Jon."
"As do I, your grace. Your presence is a relief, and I pray you bear witness when the battle arrives and I slay the pretender Stannis."
Joffrey laughed, which made a few others follow suit even having not heard what Jon said. "I look forward to it."
The sun sank as Imry Florent led Stannis's fleet into the river, where pots of pitch were tossed and trebuchets within the city flung stones at the ships. Jon stood behind Tyrion, watching as wildfire took the river and the screams of dying men filled the night while a chain rose from the water, trapping them all while cutting off Stannis' host from the Lysene galleys in the bay.
Before the battle Jon had made his way to the Godswood and prayed, and yet as he stood upon the walls of King's Landing watching emerald flames burn men, he found himself praying again to another god. He prayed to any who would hear him. He wanted to survive this, but would need to do more than sit on the sidelines. He just needed a chance.
Even as their ships burned some made it to shore, unloading men while Stannis was among those across the river. Tyrion let Joffrey run off to fling the captured Antler Men from his trebuchets, the Whores, and then heard that hundreds had landed in the tourney grounds to ram the King's Gate. Edric and Podrick Payne waited with their horses, riding with the lord and knight while Ser Mandon Moore rode hard behind them.
They arrived quick enough thanks to the streets being clear, hearing the booming crash of the ram against the gate. Within the gatehouse square they found plenty of uninjured sellswords and gold cloaks to form a column. "Form up," Tyrion shouted as he leapt to the ground. "Who commands here? You're going out."
"No." Dismounting, Jon saw the voice belonged to Sandor Clegane. His snarling hound helm was scorched, dented and missing its left ear when he pulled it off and let it fall to the ground. Blood from a gash above his eyes set blood to run across his burn scars.
"Yes." Tyrion told him.
"Bugger that," Sandor responded. "And you."
"We've been out," said a sellsword. "Three times. Half our men are killed or hurt. Wildfire bursting all around us, horses screaming like men and men like horses-"
"Did you think we hired you to fight in a tourney? Shall I bring you a nice iced milk and a bowl of raspberries? No? Then get on your fucking horse. You too, dog." Sandor drew his longsword, his eyes white with fear. Jon wanted to laugh, remembering what he'd said days earlier. Tyrion tried to explain to him, "They've taken a ram to the gate, you can hear them, we need to disperse them-"
"Open the gates. When they rush inside, surround them and kill them." The Hound thrust the point of his sword into the ground and leaned on the pommel, swaying. "I've lost half my men. Horse as well. I'm not taking more into that fire."
Ser Mandon Moore moved to Tyrion's side. "The King's Hand commands you."
"Bugger the King's Hand." Sandor spat, his face white and pale beneath the blood and scars. "Someone bring me a drink." A gold cloak officer gave him a cup, but when he took a sip Sandor spat it out and flung the cup. "Water? Fuck your water. Bring me wine."
Tyrion saw that the men were lost without their leader. He considered Mandon Moore but knew he wasn't a man any would follow. He wasn't sure what to do, feeling almost hopeless until suddenly Jon strode forward and punched Sandor square in the jaw, knocking the taller man off his feet.
"You worthless coward," Jon said staring down at the scarred kingsguard. "You speak of finding joy in battle but all I see is a man who doesn't deserve to wield a sword. Even Sam who all called craven would go and fight were he here, but instead they've left these men to follow you. Even your brother, too weak to kill a boy like me, would be better than a runt like you."
Sandor rose to his feet, glaring at Jon. "Try that again, boy."
Tyrion stared at the two, wide eyed as Sandor clenched his fist.
"You call me boy?" Jon scoffed. "When the night ends and you're off hiding behind skirts and suckling at teats like whimpering children, I'll have the glory of killing the false king."
"You've never even slain a man, have you, boy?"
"Wolves hunt stags in the woods," Jon said cooly. "And they slay dogs who get in their way." Sandor watched him turn and walk toward his horse. "If you're angry then use it and you might find your joy in breathing once the fighting ends. Until then I'll ride out and slay them myself if you're all incapable."
Tyrion saw the disbelief on their faces as they watched the sixteen year old knight put on his helmet and mount his horse. "Ser Mandon, you'll bear the king's banner. Pod, my helm." The boy obeyed as Sandor stared at the young knight grabbing his lance while his squire mounted his own horse. Ser Mandon helped Tyrion mount up again as he shouted, "Form up!"
Atop his red stallion bearing crinet and chamfron with silk over a coat of mail, Tyrion took his helm and heavy oak shield. He saw some of the men move to follow his command, almost sixty. Tyrion glanced at Jon, who had turned to the sally port. "They call him a green boy and say I'm half a man," Tyrion called out to those who hadn't moved. "What does that make the lot of you?"
A few more were shamed into joining them. Having already been called a coward by a boy, they couldn't bear being less than a dwarf.
"You won't hear me shout out Joffrey's name," Tyrion called out. "You won't hear me yell for Casterly Rock either. This is your city Stannis means to sack, and that's your gate he's bringing down.. So come with us and kill the son of a bitch!" Tyrion unsheathed his axe, wheeled around and followed Jon to the sally port, not daring to look back and see who remained. He didn't see that once Jon was out of sight, Sandor reached for his helm, taking a horse from one of the injured men and riding out after them.
Tyrion rode ahead of Jon, giving him a firm nod before calling for the others to form a wedge with him at the point. Podrick kept to Tyrion's left while Ser Mandon took his right. Jon took Podrick's left with Edric beside him.
Jon paid little attention to the arrows or rocks coming from the city, instead focusing on the mob of men at the King's Gate. Tyrion called for lances and sped to a canter, Jon raising his own lance as they moved through mud and blood until Tyrion called out, "King's Landing!"
Others took up the cry but Jon remained silent, staring through the slit of his helm and gripping his lance. He shifted the angle at the last moment, and watched the spearhead push through the man's surcoat showing a fox peering through a ring of flowers. The first man he killed was a Florent. The lance pierced his torso entirely and dug into the side of another behind him before the shaft snapped.
Jon held the broken shaft back, swinging it into the head of a soldier hard enough his helmet rang while he fell to the ground, where he was killed moments later. Letting the remnants of the shaft fall away, Jon drew White Fang and slashed out, finding a gap in the throat of another soldier. He barely even saw the man's sigil before swinging his sword to deflect a blow and thrust White Fang through the eye of another soldier.
A spear slammed into Jon's shield, deflected wide enough it was easy for Jon to thrust White Fang through the gap in the man's arm pit. He held the shield in front of him, letting an archer loose two arrows before Jon swung so hard into his chest the man flipped back off his horse and loosed his third arrow straight up so it came back down through his own face.
A man in a surcoat bearing the swordfish of House Bar Emmon came at Jon's back with a lance, as Jon made to turn he saw Edric's white courser charge forward, letting the squire thrust his sword through the man's throat. He was nearly knocked off his horse when another soldier swung at him, forcing Edric to raise his shield, but Jon charged to him and cut through the man's arm as he went for his second swing, letting Edric easily slice through the man's neck.
"We'll ride to the Mud Gate," Tyrion commanded once they had dispersed the man around the ram.
"The Mud Gate!" Jon called alongside Ser Mandon as they took off.
"Halfman! Halfman!" They shouted for Tyrion.
"White Wolf! White Wolf!" They cried for Jon.
Jon sped ahead, slashing through arms and leaving men bleeding in his wake as he charged toward a figure in scarlet robes slashing through men with a sword coated in green flames. As he moved to join Thoros, Jon noticed a makeshift bridge of broken boats where soldiers were coming to shore from across the river.
Leaping from his horse, Jon ran to Thoros' side and thrust his sword through the neck of a man ready to stab the red priest with a spear. When Thoros turned and found Jon throwing the dying soldier into another so he could stab through the second man's eye, he felt a mix of relief at seeing the knight he followed come to his aide and sorrow at how easily the young knight moved from killing both men to slashing through the gambeson of another.
"The bridge!" Jon called, motioning for Thoros to follow as he made for the broken boats. Edric pulled his greatsword from the saddle, leaving their horses as he followed Jon and Thoros through crackling flames and creaking planks.
Passing through the bridge they cut through men while others rushed past them, many caught by the others following after Jon. When he reached the last ship Jon leapt to the shore and stared out at over fifteen hundred men as Thoros and Edric came to his sides with barely a hundred backing them.
"STANNIS!" Jon bellowed. "Come and face me! Let's end this!"
The men around them laughed at Jon's challenge. A group charged at Jon, but Thoros' flaming sword caused their mounts to rear while Edric swung his greatsword at another, throwing the rider from the horse as blood sprayed from his opened torso. The unmanned horse reared back and turned, barreling toward another as some of the men rushed forward to bring them down.
"Your king is too great a coward to come face a boy?" Jon called to the men as he cut through the neck of a fallen rider who moved to stab him. "You wear flame hearts but are too weak hearted to face me?"
A knight dismounted and strode forward as others backed away. "Still your mouth, Ser Wolf!" The knight called to Jon as he came to him, drawing his sword. "You face Ser Bryce Caron, Lord of Nightsong!"
"And you the White Wolf, Jon Snow!" Edric called out with a laugh.
Jon smirked hearing his squire speak up on his behalf. "Surrender and be spared, Ser Bryce. Stannis need die for his crimes, not you or any who surrenders."
That seemed to make the knight shift slightly, but he shook his head. "You'll die, bastard!"
Jon charged forward, moving in a slight arch toward the knight's left. Bryce tilted his head, confused why one would attack from his shield side. With the shore soaked from the sloshing river, it was easy enough for Jon to fall to the ground as he reached the knight, Bryce's sword slashing where he'd been while Jon slid across the mud and cut through his knee.
Bryce stumbled to the ground as Jon turned and, pressing his shield into the ground, thrust his sword into falling knight's throat. It ripped through his neck as Bryce fell and Jon stood, leaving it hanging half cleaved when Bryce Caron hit the ground.
Slashing his sword to throw loose blood on the dead knights cloak, Jon turned to gaze through his slit at the others.
"Bryce." Ser Rolland Storm sat frozen watching his brother lay dead at the shore.
"She spoke of him," Stannis said staring at Jon from the center of the group.
"Your grace?" Rolland asked.
"Melisandre told me that coming here I would face Snow," he said lowering his visor and taking up his reins.
"Your grace," Rolland said in surprise, moving with him as Stannis' squire, Devan Seaworth followed.
Jon watched the men attacking his company back away as others parted, making way for their king, who dismounted before them. Stannis wore gray plate with a cloak of gold cloth flowing from his broad shoulders. His breastplate bore a flaming heart inlaid above his own, and his helm bore spiked points that might have been short antlers or a flaming crown.
"You are a shame to your father, boy," Stannis told Jon as he drew his sword and revealed its glowing blade which shined as though it were aflame.
Thoros looked confused at the falsely ignited blade. "It's a glamour," he told Jon quietly while drawing his own unignited sword. The last he had. "Don't fear his flames."
"He should fear mine," Jon said raising his bloodied slender sword.
Raising his shield, Stannis started toward Jon. The young knight took a breath and stepped forward, the knight and king staring at one another through their helms.
Tyrion looked for Jon, unsure where he was until Balon pointed out the men coming ashore. He found the makeshift bridge and followed it to where he saw Jon facing Stannis Baratheon and laughed. "Those are brave men," he said motioning to those who rushed past Jon and his company to cross the bridge. "Let's go kill them."
Once they had walked toward the opposing sides, Jon dashed at Stannis, holding his shield up and drawing his sword back beneath it. He slammed his shield into the taller man's flaming stag shield and slashed at his leg, but Stannis brought his Lightbringer down to block. He was stronger than Jon, strong enough to make the young knight stumble back with a shove of his shield.
Catching his balance Jon dashed forward again, shifting to the side and slashing at Stannis after a moment of delay. It had nearly worked, making Stannis move his shield to the side to block while Jon struck high a moment later, but Stannis used a larger shield which he raised just enough to deflect Jon's strike.
Jon's raised arm left an opening for Stannis to thrust his Lightbringer at the gap of armor near Jon's upper thigh. He burst a few links of mail as the sword sliced through Jon's cloth and flesh.
Backing up with a hiss, Jon felt blood pouring from the wound which didn't feel near as bad as the last time someone had cut his thigh, but still hurt and bleed a lot. It bled enough that when Stannis pulled his sword back his eyes widened seeing the blade ignite where Jon's blood had sank into the steel.
"Lightbringer!" Some of Stannis' men marveled as Thoros and Edric looked to Jon, who slammed his arm to his bleeding leg.
Jon stared at the flaming blade and considered dousing his own in his blood if that was what it did, but he'd seen what happened to Thoros' swords enough to not bother trying. However he smirked remembering he had another sword waiting for him. One that might not melt under a flame.
Stannis laughed at the man, raising his flaming sword in the air when they heard a sudden rise of yells. Turning back, Stannis and his men saw a host of men rising toward them, men led by Tywin Lannister, Mace Tyrell, Randyll Tarly, and Renly Baratheon.
"Renly!" Men cried in fear as they turned to face the incoming host.
"His specter!" Another yelled.
With a laugh Jon stood up and waved Stannis forward. "Come, Stannis. Time to join your brother!"
Stannis turned on Jon in time to deflect his slash and slash at the knight. Jon backed away, watching the flames pass before his visor before using his shield to knock the blade aside. He stepped back and then forward, thrusting his sword toward Stannis' but the king dodged and threw his shield up. This time when Stannis went to stab him Jon stepped to the side, slashing at Stannis's shield, sending sparks flying as they separated.
"Your grace," Rolland called out, turning to watch them exchange blows.
Jon felt all of his anger rise suddenly as he threw his shield down and grabbed his longsword with both hands, bringing it down as hard as he could on the false king. Stannis raised his sword to deflect the blow, angled so he might have thrust at Jon afterward, but Jon's bloodied White Fang snapped the burning Lightbringer and sank into Stannis's neck.
"Stannis!" Men cried as others gasped and turned to watch Jon pull his sword back, letting blood pour down the right half of Stannis' body.
Jon quickly stepped forward as Stannis fell to his knees clutching his throat. He grabbed Stannis' helm and pulled his head back, making the king meet his eyes as Jon pressed the tip of his longsword to the gap between helm and gorget at the front of Stannis's neck. Keeping his gaze through their visors, Jon whispered so only Stannis could hear, "This is for my father. Rhaegar."
Stannis gasped as the sword pushed through his throat, sinking through his chest and pierced his beating heart. Jon kept his gaze before stepping back, kicking the flaming heart on Stannis' chestplate to rip the blade free, its pale blade coated scarlet.
"Retreat!" Rolland called out as he turned and made for the ships Salladhor Saan had brought to shore.
"WHITE WOLF!" Men bellowed around Jon, cheering as he stood over the corpse of Stannis Baratheon.
Pressing his hand to his leg, Jon stepped back and staggered until Thoros came and put an arm under his. "I've got you, Jon. Don't worry."
Jon looked toward the makeshift bridge and saw Podrick knelt beside a small figure who could only be Tyrion and yelling for help. He turned his gaze to the rider then and saw Renly cutting a path through the men. Beside him rode a knight in resplendent armor Jon instantly recognized. "Loras?"
He saw Loras glance at him before returning to the side of Renly's ghost. Jon watched them cut through the fleeing Baratheon host as others surrounded him, cheering for his victory. Looking upon Stannis' corpse, Jon wondered how many other kings he would slay before he sat upon the Iron Throne.