Authors Note: Hey Guys, so I just started this story, I'd love for an rates or reviews. I have a general idea of where I'd like the story to go, but am welcome to any suggestions, feel free to PM me any new characters you think could be an interesting addition, I'm always looking for more. This story is probably gonna go off canon later on, but for now I'm sticking to it generally, but if I pass the show I'll probably start looking to the books. I'll do my best to avoid spoilers but some will probably be inevitable. For now, this is just an introductory chapter for a few new characters, but more exposition and elaboration will come in future chapters as well. Let me know what you think!

Trysten

"Here they come boys!"

Trysten Fadyn was sitting astride his horse, surrounded by his father Marius' household guard. His father rode a black destrier, clad in the sky blue and white colors of House Fadyn. He carried a banner with their crest, a fox against a field divided into four quadrants of blue and white. His bastard brother Iagan was on his fathers left.

Trysten was only seventeen, a boy by many's standards, and not quite a man yet. He was new to battle, but his father, the brilliant commander Marius had taught him well, and he had served as a mercenary, gaining experience quickly and earning him a reputation as a clever and fierce commander. He had reddish gold hair, which glinted copper in the sunlight, and bright, golden eyes. Although he was young, he was strong and lean, not big compared to some of the other boys he had grown up with, his half-brother Iagan stood almost a head taller, but not short either. The sunlight gleamed off his polished, silvery white armor, as his Destrier Quicksilver, named for his speed and silver coat, whinnied and pawed at the ground, anticipating the battle to come.

Although traditionally serving the Arryns of the Vale, House Fadyn had taken up arms with the Starks of Winterfell. Although not a vastly powerful house, the Fadyns commanded respect for their skill at arms, and could raise a sizable four thousand men form their seat of Star's Reach, a city located on the coast of the Vale. They defied the wishes of Lady Arryn to remain neutral, and instead chose to serve the King in the North, Robb stark, to honor Marius' friendship with Robb's murdered father, Lord Eddard, who had served alongside him in Robert's Rebellion and then the Greyjoy Rebellion. Now, Starks, Fadyns, and Tullys fought side by side again, although this time against a new threat, the Lannisters.

The Lannister footmen were advancing, sunlight gleaming off their crimson armor. This would be another of the minor skirmishes the Fadyns had fought against the Lannisters, and although vastly outmatched in terms of manpower and resources, Lord Marius was perceptive enough to only fight isolated engagements on his own terms, realizing that Tywin Lannister would never risk an attack on Star's Reach or risk evoking the Vale's wrath. This time, his men held the high ground, occupying a hill on the road to Harrenhall, with a branch of the Trident on their left and woods too their right. There would be no bypassing this fight.

The Fadyn's had taken up position on the hill, with two thousand infantry forming the core of their force, which was centered around the Silverside Marines, the elite shock troops of House Fadyn. The Silversides were a prestigious and old order, formed during the age of Kings to protect the Fadyn's maritime interests from Ironborn raiders. Through years of combat, they had become an elite force of fighters.

The Lannisters had no choice but to advance, sending their skirmishing contingent up to the front lines. His father called for his own archers, and volleys of arrows rained down on the Lannister host, tearing through their ranks and devastating their skirmishers. The Lannister arrows and crossbow bolts took their toll as well though, and men stepped into the gaps to take the place of the fallen Fadyn soldiers. Volleys of arrows peppered Trysten's father's household guard. As a barrage of arrows landed among their ranks, Trysten raised his shield to protect himself, flipping his visor down. He could feel the arrows impact on his shield, chipping away at the Fox insignia on his shield. An arrow glanced off his shoulder guard, bouncing away and embedding in the dirt. He glanced to his left. Daven, his father's master at arms, grinned at him with an insane look on his eyes.

"Retinue! Swing left! We must get a better view of the fighting!" His father shouted, waving the standard. A horn sounded, and the contingent kicked their horses into action, nearly two hundred mounted knights thundering across the battlefield, behind the Fadyn infantry core. More arrows thudded into Trysten's shield, but he paid them no mind. His shield had protected him at Whispering Wood and would protect him again. His father rode ahead of the cavalry, leading the way to get a better view of the skirmish so he could effectively command his men. The wedge stopped at the crest of the hill, giving them a commanding overlook of the battle. The Lannister skirmishers were faltering, their numbers dwindling rapidly. The Fadyn men-at-arms had been relatively unhurt by the harrasment, and their lines remained intact. Horns sounded from the Lannister center, and banners quickly rode from what Trysten presumed to be the Commanding Officer's unit to the other units. He recognized the Lannister Lion, the Dogs of the Cleganes, as well as the colors of Houses Westerling, Marbrand, Lefford, Swyft, and Crakehall. The Lannister infantry advanced, screened by arrow fire from what was left of their archers.

"Today men, we fight for honor! We fight for duty! We fight for our families. The Lannister's seek to sit a bastard tyrant on the Iron Throne! Today, we defy tyranny, and protect our families from the sadist they support! We have all the advantages, and the gods our on our side! Fight hard, and we cannot lose! Fadyn invicta!" His father shouted to their men, and a cheers erupted, echoing him.

"Fadyn invicta! Fadyn invicta! Fadyn invicta!" They shouted, the unofficial motto of house Fadyn, Fadyn unconquered in old Valyrian. The men beat their swords, spears, and axes against their shields. The Lannisters charged, their infantry slamming into the center of the Fadyn line. Men screamed in agony and pain and the smell of blood and shit filled the air. Trysten grimaced. Combat was never as they described it in the songs. It was ugly. More arrows rained down on the melee, and Lord Marius shouted, wheeling his cavalry around to inspire his men. His visor had been flipped up, so his men could see his face as he shouted words of encouragement to them.

"Hold the line lads! They'll not break us!" He bellowed. Trysten's brother Iagan yelled to him.

"Trysten! He's too far up! He's too far up! His visor is down! We have to bring him back!"

He was right. In his effort to inspire and protect his troops, his father Marius had placed himself in a precarious position. With his visor flipped up, he was dangerously susceptible to the volleys of arrows being loosed into the fray, and a mounted man was a far more obvious target for any footman looking to gain some wealth. Trysten spurred Quicksilver towards his father, sword drawn. Iagan galloped behind him.

"Father!" Trysten shouted, gaining his attention. He was only a few yard away. His father turned to him, a look of realization on his eyes. He was surrounded. The Fadyn center had begun to devolve into a disorganized mass. Suddenly, his father toppled from the saddle.

"NO!" Trysten screamed in agony. Marius hit the ground with a deafening thud, his collapsing on a heap on the ground, an arrow protruding from his side. He heard Iagan gasp behind him. Lannister and Fadyn infantry closed in around his father, and Trysten screamed at them to help pull him to safety, his helm knocked off. He charged Quicksliver into the fray, slashing and hacking at the Lannister infantry as Lords Beckwyth and Seabury and Ser Daven helped pull his father up, into the saddle behind Trysten. His father clutched onto him, breathing shallowly. Trysten wheeled Quicksilver around, galloping back behind the lines. He screamed for a medic, and Maester Ormund ran over to him, bandages in hand. His father groaned as they lifted him out of the saddle onto the ground. The battle raged behind them. Ormund called for more bandages and order Trysten to put pressure on the wound, as blood spilled from the around the shaft of the arrow. His father's blood ran over his hands, warm, staining his father's and his own armor crimson. Tears ran down his face, his father's breathing was becoming shallower. Maester Ormund was working feverishly to save him, and his father coughed up more blood as the Maester broke the shaft of the arrow off, extracting the head. It had punched clean through his father's armor. His father motioned for Trysten to come closer, as his bannermen and Iagan closed in. He pulled Trysten up to his lips, whispering weakly; "These pretenders... they would destroy the realm... if only they could be King of the ashes... You must..." He coughed, blood splattering on Trysten's face but he didn't care, hanging on his father's every word, striving to hear them over the din of battle " You must... serve the true Queen... Only she can rule Westeros... You must... Protect the people... You will be a good Lord... I am proud of you... Serve the people...When I am gone…We shall adapt." He sputtered, his breathing becoming more an more ragged.

"No! You can't die! I need you! Iagan needs you! Your family needs you! You're not going to die!" Then, the ragged breathing stopped. The Maester backed away, shaking his head, a tear running down his cheek. Trysten collapsed over his father's corpse. He heard a strangled gasp escape from Iagan. His body was racked with sobs. He felt a gauntlet on his shoulder. Lord Beckwyth, his father's closest friend, turned towards him. Tears were in his eyes, and he had removed his helm.

"Trysten, the fight isn't done yet. The line is breaking. The men have seen you're father fall, and he will be missed, but if we don't act we cannot win" He said somberly. Men streamed past him, fleeing the battle alone or in pairs. Trysten had seen enough battles to know that that trickle would soon become a tide of men fleeing the front line to safety.

"What's the point?" He sobbed. "My father is dead! Killed by the damn Lannisters! The men have lost heart! The battle is lost."

"Then... Retreat, my lord?" Lord Beckwyth asked, waiting for his order. My Lord. He was the Lord now. He was in command. He recalled his father's last words. Protect the people. The Lannister's still sought to place a sadist on the Iron Throne, and the realm still burned. Men still died, fighting for his father. Fighting for him. We shall adapt. The words of House Fadyn. He had to adapt. He needed to protect them. He stood.

"No. The time to mourn will come." He mounted Quicksilver, a determined look in his eye. He shouted commands to his father's, no, his, bannermen.

"Beckwyth, take half the cavalry and see if you can route those damned archers. Iagan, I'm giving you command of the Rangers, take them up the right flank, see if you can put a dent in the Lannister knights, then hit the infantry from behind. I'll take the other half of the cavalry up the center." His lords rode out, banners waving in the breeze behind him. More men streamed past him. They wore his own colors, the Fadyn Fox, the Beckwyth Sharks, the Red and Yellow horses of the Seabury's, his men. They ran from the battle. If he didn't act quickly the line would break and then his men would be butchered. He did the only thing he could think of. He lowered his lance, and charged headlong into the melee.

"FADYN INVICTA!" He screamed, slamming into the line. His lance splintered, impaling a Lannister soldier through the chest, who clutched at it and fell. Blood ran down his silvery armour, making him look like a demon. Trysten fought like a madman, hacking and slashing and Lannister infantry, cutting them down. He was felt a hand on his reigns, and he was thrown from the saddle, landing on the ground in the middle of the fray. He felt a body on top of him, flipping his visor up, a dagger in hand. The Lannister grinned at him with a crooked smile, ready to kill him, until his head was split open by an axe moments later. The Silverside grabbed Trysten, pulling him off the ground. He wrenched his sword free from underneath the Lannister, nodding in thanks to the Silverside, as the man bashed another man with the brunt of his shield, knocking him to the ground before finishing him with a quick blow from his axe. Trysten stabbed at another man, driving his sword through his gut and twisting. The man screamed in agony, but Trysten's bloodlust was up. He screamed incoherently, cutting through the mass of Lannisters, his household guard following behind him, carving a bloody path through the fray. He saw the Fadyn Banner begin to waver, as the Silverside carrying it turned his back. Trysten dropped his shield, grabbing the banner and waving it high for all to see.

"To me! To me! Fadyn invicta! Fadyn invicta!" He could sense his men turning around, looking at him. Men paused their flight from the battle, staring at him, and slowly, they rejoined the melee. It started as a trickle of men, returning, charging back in screaming like demons, but as more men saw Trysten, more returned. Seeing the boy-lord, screaming bloody murder, his silver armor stained red with blood, his armor glistening in the sunlight, inspired them, and they returned in a flood, and fought with a vengeance.

Iagan

His father was dead. Killed by Lannister archers. His brother was the new lord of Star's Reach. He couldn't help but cry. But there was work that needed to be done, and he had been given a mission. His brother had ordered him to scatter the Lord's retinue and placed him in command of the Rangers.

He knew he could do it. At his disposal, he had nearly five hundred rangers. Armoured knights and skilled scouts, they protected Star's Reach from the hill tribes. They were made up of battle-hardened veterans, and rode the fastest horses Star's Reach had to offer. Each man carried a Dothraki Bow, and was a capable horse archer, as well as a master of camouflage as their job required, but when the time came, they could match the finest knights in Westeros. They had remained hidden in the woods as Lord Marius had ordered, waiting to spring their trap. Now, was their chance. Iagan nodded to his second in command, who blew his warhorn. A volley of arrows slammed into the Lannister Cavalry retinue, tearing through armor and flesh, and sending the retinue reeling in shock, losing almost half their number before the second volley even hit. Men and horses screamed and rolled as arrows ripped through them, completely disoriented as the arrows slammed into their unprotected side from seemingly nowhere.

His men burst out from the woods, lances lowered, all spurring their horses towards the Lannister Cavalry. The Lannisters didn't have a chance. Lances splintered and shattered as the Lannister's failed to coordinate a cohesive charge, and they were quickly routed from the field. Iagan turned his attention to the melee on the hill. Lord Beckwyth had routed the remaining Lannister archers, and Trysten seemed to have control of the melee. He could see the shields of the Silversides returning to combat, and could see the Fadyn banner flying proudly over the melee as men shouted and screamed and bled and died below it. The Lannister banner faltered, and Iagan saw his moment. He wheeled the Ranger cavalry around, charging headlong into the rear of the Lannister lines, shattering them. His sword caught in the throat of a Lannister sargeant, who gurgled blood and fell, clutching his throat. His men had collapsed the Lannister lines, and men fled around them, being cut down as they ran. The battle was theirs.

Trysten:

The battle was over. The men cheered, pounding their weapons against their shields as Iagan and his Rangers ran the Lannister's down, cutting them down in their tracks. He cheered with exhilaration. They had won. He was alive. His body ached with exhaustion and sadness as the bloodlust slowly left him, the adrenaline finally running it's course. As he gazed around him, he saw the price they had paid for their victory. He could no longer even grip his sword, and although men gathered around him, cheering, chanting his name. His armor was coated in blood, although none of it appeared to be his. His cloak was tattered, and Quicksilver had run back to the camp. His armor was scratched, but he was lucky. Many men, including his father, had paid the ultimate price for this victory. Some still crawled around, groaning, calling for their mothers or their gods or cursing the day they were born. Some merely whimpered quietly, the last vestiges of life escaping their body. Many more were silent. The grass was slick with blood and the soil had been churned to mud. He watched as Iagan's Rangers chased the Lannisters through the river, cutting them down, as the river ran red. They had won, but at what cost?