Chapter 30. Captured.
Smoke drifted through the Whispering Woods after the fighting ended. The smell of blood hung beneath the trees, mixed with mud, horse sweat, broken wood, and the bitter stink of opened bodies. Corpses lay everywhere. Men, horses, torn banners, split shields, snapped lances. Ravens had already begun to circle above the branches, impatient little priests waiting for their feast.
The northern and river forces moved through the field, gathering prisoners, treating wounded, collecting usable weapons, and counting the dead. Victory did not make the work cleaner. It only made it belong to the winning side. Robb Stark walked the field with his commanders and stopped before Jaime Lannister, who stood bound between guards, armor dented, hair blood-streaked, hands tied. Even captured, Jaime carried himself as if the ropes were a minor insult the world would soon apologize for.
"Jaime Lannister," Robb said, calm and cold. "You have been defeated and captured. By the laws and customs of war, your life is in my hands. I will spare it for now. You will be taken to Riverrun and held until this war ends, or until your family pays enough to make your release useful."
Jaime smiled thinly. "Spoken like a lord who has not yet learned how expensive prisoners can become."
Robb did not answer. That was wise. Winning a battle did not mean one had to win every sentence afterward. Arthur was directing his men to gather their fallen when Robb approached. Several northern and river lords followed behind him, their eyes lingering on the Battanian armor, the axes, the bloodied shields, and the men who had helped stop Jaime's charge.
"Ser Arthur," Robb said.
Arthur turned and saluted. "My lord."
"You and your Rangers fought well today. The right flank held because of you, and Jaime was taken because your men helped stop him."
Arthur lowered his head slightly. "We did our duty."
"Duties are common," Robb replied. "Doing them under a Lannister charge is less so. I will remember it."
Robb moved on to continue the inspection. He said no more, but the eyes of the surrounding lords had changed. Not warmth. Not trust. Recognition. In Westeros, that was often the first coin of real power. Arthur watched him go, then crouched beside a dead Clan Warrior whose eyes were still open, fierce though empty. He closed them with two fingers.
"Find all our brothers," he told Beland. "We take them back to Newroot. They fought for Battania. They will rest under our banner."
"Yes, Chief."
The men worked quietly. The dead were gathered. Wounds were bound. Spoils were counted. The Rangers had survived, but survival never came with clean hands. Arthur's company had grown stronger again, and the price was lying in rows beneath cloaks.
Near the edge of the forest, Catelyn Stark waited on a hidden rise. Ena stood beside her, bow in hand, ordered there by Arthur to protect Lady Stark away from the fighting. Catelyn had recognized Ena's family and accepted the protection without protest. The sounds of battle had reached them in waves: hooves, shouting, steel, horns, screaming men, and at one point the terrible howl of Grey Wind.
"You should not be this close to the battlefield, my lady," Ena said quietly.
"My son is there," Catelyn replied, never looking away. "My home is there. If the worst happens, I will not learn it from whispers."
Ena said nothing after that. She understood more than she wanted to. Her own gaze kept searching between the trees for one familiar figure, sometimes clever, sometimes foolish, and much too good at walking toward trouble with a plan that made sense only afterward.
When the cheers came, loud and rising, Catelyn finally breathed. Jaime Lannister was brought before her bound hand and foot. Ena's own relief came only after she found Arthur in the crowd. He was alive, filthy, blood on his face, carrying a bundle of scavenged weapons and broken pieces of armor with an expression almost pleased enough to be insulting.
"That idiot," Ena murmured, a laugh escaping before she could stop it. "Looting already."
Her heart eased. He was alive. Apparently that had become important. Before the army could rest properly, the direwolf howled again. Grey Wind burst from the forest, tearing into Lannister scouts who tried to flee. Robb Stark gave the order immediately. Riverrun was still under siege, and Jaime's capture would mean nothing if the castle remained surrounded. The cavalry moved again, and the Battle of Riverrun began before the blood of the Whispering Woods had dried.
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