Emmelyne slowly returned to the head of the army, looking back at Davos who shouted a command. "Prepare to charge."
He began to repeat the order, rallying the men into their ranks. Emmelyne adjusted herself on her horse, brushing her fingers against one of her arrows. It was time. "Draw!" someone was shouting.
The command was repeated.
"Loose!"
Arrows flew into the sky. Jon started riding forward. "Go!" Davos urged. "Go! Follow your commander!"
There was shouting when they began following Jon. "Run and fight!"
It was a complete frenzy. Emmelyne struggled to control her horse, which was going wild. The giant, Wun Wun, roared and joined the running group. It all seemed to be in slow motion.
Jon was far ahead of the rest of the army, but Emmelyne was catching up to him fast. "Nock!"
Ramsay climbed up onto his horse. "Draw!"
Emmelyne's breathing sped up. "Loose!"
Emmelyne felt herself sink as her horse caught an arrow in the throat. Jon's was felled as hit the ground, rolling away from the corpse of his horse. Emmelyne managed to stumble to her feet, not allowing herself to fall.
Ramsay grinned from the front of his army. "Now," he stated.
"Cavalry charge!" his men shouted.
Jon managed to get to his feet, holding his leg. Emmelyne looked up at him, offering a weak smile of encouragement. But then Jon froze. She turned, and her gray eyes went wide. The Bolton army was charging at them at full force. "Fuck," Emmelyne breathed out.
The word seemed to linger in the air.
Jon nodded slowly to himself, urging himself that this is what had to happen.
He drew his sword, and Emmelyne mimicked him. The weight of her blade felt... wrong. She hadn't had enough training with a sword. She was damn good with arrows, but now wasn't the time for her bow. Now she needed to get in close. "Protect me, R'hllor. Do not let my light be extinguished on this day. On this day where I shall prove myself. On this day where we shall take back our home."
She watched Jon first be engulfed by the force of the Bolton army. Then she was surrounded by them as well.
The sound of horse's hooves thundered around her, broken only by the occasional shouting. Stark and Bolton soldiers began falling all around Emmelyne, who tried to remove herself from the bulk of the fighting. She saw a man be flung backward over his own horse. "Nock!"
A man fell from his horse, but managed to remain on his feet. He charged toward Emmelyne. She swung her sword, slicing his head off swiftly. For the second time, she had purposefully killed someone. "Nock!"
Commands were said and repeated, and before Emmelyne could process what was happening, arrows flew from Ramsay's side, but not the Stark's. She avoided them the best she could, letting a few labored breaths escape her. More men and horses fell around her. Emmelyne could vaguely see Jon, trying to dodge rampaging horses.
A man fell on the ground, and Emmelyne saw a red that was not blood. A red kerchief. A thousand thoughts went through Emmelyne's mind, and she raced to Robert Marsh's side. She felt nothing for the young man that lay dying before her. Nothing except for sympathy. What she had assumed was a night of low inhabitations and exhilaration, he had felt was one of love. Of true feelings. And now he was dying.
Green eyes raised to lock with Emmelyne's. "Hello, Demon," he said, a weak smile forming on his freckled cheeks. "You spotted me. Just like I thought you would."
He coughed, and the sympathy hit Emmelyne once more. "I'm sorry," she offered him. "I'm sorry this has happened to you."
His tanned hands covered a wound in his chest, a large, gaping wound that no healer would be able to fix. "I've lived a happy life," he said slowly. "A short one, but a happy one. The battle is still happening, Demon. You should continue the fight. Win it. Please."
Emmelyne didn't know why she was crying. "I will. I'll win this."
The green eyes closed, and they did not open. But the smile remained on his face.
Robert Marsh appeared to only be sleeping, but that was not the case. Emmelyne stood slowly.
The battle was still happening.
A man came for Emmelyne, who stood her ground. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The killing came naturally to her. She stood in her place, killing whoever dared to come near Robert Marsh.
From his place, Jon caught her gaze. Neither said a word, but something was shared between them. Something neither of them knew how to define. The moment ended quickly, and they continued to fight. "Loose!"
Emmelyne was forced to move when the arrows came this time. Pain ripped through her side, and when she raised her pale hand, it was drenched with blood. "R'hllor, do not let my light extinguish."
She repeated this like a mantra, fighting through her pain. "Loose!"
Robert Marsh's body was riddled with arrows and covered with other corpses. "Loose!"
The color red had been Emmelyne's safety. It was the color of her religion. It was the color of the tunic and trousers she wore beneath her red stained armor. But now, red was anger. Red was hatred and pain, and the color that stemmed from Robert Marsh's corpse.
A pile of bodies had begun to amass at the edge of the battlefield. Davos's archers joined the fight now. Ramsay instructed his archers to do the same.
"Who owns the North? We do!"
"No you fucking don't," Emmelyne hissed und her breath
She saw Tormund kill someone who was attacking Jon. Wun Wun threw aside a horse that was riding toward him. The Stark soldiers were herded into a circle by the Boltons, who's shields, painted with a flayed man, acted as barricades. They forced the circle tighter and tighter, anyone who was at the edges was killed by spears.
Emmelyne tried to find Jon, but found herself stumbling over the felled corpses on the ground. She finally returned to the middle of the circle, sitting herself down beside Robert Marsh. She could wait if she had to. Wait for death to come knocking on her door. She pushed aside the bodies that covered Robert's, and she stared down at his peaceful face. "I'll be joining you soon," she murmured. "Frog Eater."
She accepted that this was the end. The end of her life. The end of everything that Jon, Sansa, and she were fighting for. It was a harsh reality, but one that she accepted. She closed her gray eyes for what she thought would be the last time, and waited. "I'm ready, R'hllor."
Screams of pain surrounded her. "Not much longer," she whispered.
