Blacksword's Folly

The Blacksword's Folly were the events which saw the Blacksword and the men of the North march south to demand the Pact of Ice and Fire finally be honoured. Though, the march of the Northmen would end prematurely, north of Darry, in a duel of single combat between Lord Barthogan 'Blacksword' Stark and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Olyvar Oakheart. Oakheart would spare Lord Stark's life, though consequences would remain in the form of the Stark in the South.

Blacksword's Folly
For the last four years, Lord Barthogan Stark had written south, a raven to King’s Landing. The first year, the bird had flown only once. The second year, twice. The third, twice once more. And the fourth, a final bird flew, demanding the Pact of Ice and Fire be fulfilled.

The Starks had saved the Crown in their most dire hour, the Blacksword had argued, without the Starks, the crown would now rest upon the silver heads of the Usurper’s Hightower runts. But even so, even with the great devotion the Starks had displayed in the Dance, the Crown rebuffed Winterfell, the Crown gave the Blacksword’s wishes little thought and less care, and the Northern representative on the Small Council, the Lady Dustin, as the Grand Maester’s records state, “showed small concern, and devotion none to the Starks of Winterfell, readily waving away the call for the Pact to be honoured as rumblings’ and nothing more’”.

But, in 187 AC, the Blacksword proved his worth. A host was called from all the corners of the North. Big and brutish clansmen from the Northern Mountains, with names such as Wull, the First Flints, the Knotts, the Harclays, and more made south, while knights from White Harbour rode out amongst pomp and circumstance, men from Karhold marched in bleak colours, in greys and browns beneath the winter sun, the mighty axe-wielding women of Bear Island came too, the Crannogmen sent archers by the hundreds, giants named Umber took spit in their stride and left their snows, and Flints of all descriptions marched for their liege’s honour. Winterfell was alive with roar. With fury. With might. With power. Many gathered there, and many more yet, joined the host of the Blacksword on the road south.

At the Twins, the Freys took their toll, though it was an honest one, for when they looked out and saw such a mighty host, they decided they desired not to see their lands alight. And so, on the Northerners marched, southbound and ready, wild as the wicked winds.

And so it was, roughly some three leagues north of Darry the host of the Crown met with that of the Blacksword. Commanding the Crown’s forces was none other than Ser Olyvar Oakheart, Lord Commander of King Jaehaerys II’s Kingsguard. By luck, records of the conversation between these two giants lives to this day. The Blacksword is said to have initiated the exchange. ''“Move aside, knight. I have matters with the King.”''

“Lay down your arms, my lord, and I shall take you to him with glee and relief in my step.”

“I will not be denied again, Oakheart.”

“Then I am afraid there is but one way this day ends, my lord.”

''“I see another, Oakheart, fight me. Man on man. The victor claims the day.”''

''“So be it. For the King.”'' Single combat graced those fields that day. One that is said to have lasted hours and fought on beneath sun and shade, cloud and clear, and even through the setting of the sun, though this half of the account comes from minstrels not maesters. But, none disagree on the conclusion of the fight. Bleeding from a half dozen wounds, the both of them, the Blacksword with Ice, and Oakheart with humble steel, finally did the Oakheart gain the decisive upper hand, knocking the Blacksword to the ground, disarming him, and bringing steel to his throat. The Blacksword is said to have cried, “Finish it!” But the Lord Commander did no such thing, for instead, he spared the great lord’s life.

In the wake of this mighty combat, the Crown forced the Blacksword to swear an oath that his future grandchild and someday heir to Winterfell would be sent south for warding in the Capital. Once this was done, the Blacksword and his host marched south, thoroughly disappointed and disheartened by the outcome of their march.