As always, Lady would remain with Sansa whilst she remained somewhere far away and safe from the battle. She had changed from her silks and bright colours for dark furs and wools from the North, her hair loose around her shoulders and her cloak settled upon her shoulders. This was the true Sansa, Rhaena had remarked to herself. Sansa Stark of Winterfell, a child of the North. It suited her best of all. Rhaena herself was dressed for battle. She wore her bracers and a leather shoulder guard as well as a boiled leather chest piece to protect her since it was all that would fit her. Chainmail was too large as well as any spare armour they might have found. Neither Robb nor Jon wanted Rhaena anywhere near the battle wearing so little to protect her and had even attempted to persuade her to stay aloft atop Rhaegal, but Rhaena refused.
She wanted to summon Rhaegal at the last moment to frighten the enemy. She wanted Rhaegal to descend upon them like a shadow of death before burning them with his flames. Seeing as Rhaena was unable to be persuaded, all that could be done was to provide her as much protection as they could as well as gift her the swiftest horse in their cavalry, a light grey charger. Armed with her daggers, her bow, her sword and with her dragon horn at her hip, Rhaena was more than ready to face the Bolton's army. Sansa had woven her hair into several plaits before combining them into one, keeping her hair from her face so that it would not become a nuisance. "Have you received any word?" Rhaena murmured to Sansa as they prepared to depart.
"None. Do you think he will come?"
"It is now or never. Keep watch for the banners, as well as an eye on the battle. I do not expect it to go unfavourably, not with Rhaegal, but one can never be certain. If it looks as if all goes ill, flee back to White Harbour. Lord Manderly will most likely protect you, at the very least he will not betray you. From there you can take a ship and return east to Meereen. Daenerys will never turn you away. If I fall, tell her what happened."
"You will not fall." Sansa responded vehemently, making Rhaena laugh before agreeing.
"No, I shall not." Reaching out to embrace Sansa, Rhaena held her in her arms and breathed deeply. "May the gods watch over us."
"The gods abandoned us a long time ago." Unable to disagree, Rhaena gave Sansa a sad smile before mounting her charger and turning away in order to ride, joining Robb and Jon at the front of the column as they began their march to meet Ramsay Bolton on the battlefield. It had already been agreed upon, so all that remained was to meet them and arrange their army to face the Bolton's. From where she sat, Rhaena could see that they were heavily outnumbered. Worse still, Ramsay had the larger cavalry. Those horses would trample their men long before they could make a dent in their enemy's ranks. Ramsay had clearly arrived early in order to set the stage where he intended to claim victory. Seeing the crossed over beams set aflame, Rhaena could only hope that there were no people upon them.
There were no screams, so either it was only wood which burned or the victims were already dead. This upstart bastard was playing games with them, intending to intimidate them with his tactics for torture. There were plenty of stories surrounding Ramsay Bolton, and none of them were favourable. In fact, he reminded her of Joffrey. If they had met, Rhaena imagined they would have been bosom friends, and that was enough to make her want to kill Ramsay there and then. He would die today. Of that, she would make certain. Glancing to her left where Robb sat astride his own destrier, Jon on her right. They too were staring across the field. In truth the mass were mere shapes occasionally shifting they were so far away, however when one rider moved to the head of the army, they knew instantly it was Ramsay himself. Behind him, another small figure was brought forwards. Rheana's heart pounded in her chest as the breath caught in her throat. "Rickon." Her eyesight had always been excellent, and now even at this distance, she could tell that the figure beside Ramsay was none other than a grown Rickon, far taller than she would have expected him to grow.
Robb and Jon both dismounted fearfully as they walked forwards, staring as Ramsay paraded their brother before them. They could not see what he was doing or what he intended, but Rhaena saw something glinting in the air as it was raised. A dagger. She clutched at her horse's reins and tensed all over her body, causing the horse to snort and jerk, prancing uncomfortably underneath her rider. There was no sudden slash of the dagger, but rather it seemed to Rhaena that Ramsay had cut Rickon's bonds. There was an exchange, something being said to Rickon before gradually, the boy began to run from Ramsay who let him go, watching him race away towards his brothers who awaited him.
A coldness spread through Rhaena, staring wide eyed. This was a trick. Only a fool would release their prisoner, especially one as valuable as Rickon Stark. Seeing Rickon's shape beginning to move across the grassy field towards them, Robb and Jon both turned around to get to their horses only to see a blur of silver and white dash past them. Rhaena had already charged, commanding her horse ahead. Even after Jon and Robb had mounted their horses and urged them into a gallop they could not close the distance between them and Rhaena, for her horse was swifter and her load lighter. Rheana streaked ahead and aimed directly for Rickon as he continued to sprint. A shadow caught her attention in the sky, causing Rhaena to look up and see an arrow as it flew down and buried itself into the grass close to where Rickon ran. The coldness seeped further through her.
When the next arrow came, Rhaena pulled her dragonbone bow from her back and knocked an arrow, steadying her horse's pace as she drew back the arrow and aimed it into the sky, breathing deeply as she recalled all that Kovarro had taught her. Thanking the gods that she had proven to have skill with the bow and arrow, Rhaena let loose and quickly watched as it flew through the air. Her arrow connected with Ramsay's, knocking it down before it could reach Rickon. She knocked another. Each arrow that Ramsay loosed was knocked out of the sky even as they came in a swift volley, betraying Ramsay's frustrations and anger at being bested by a stranger. Rhaena could see Rickon clearly now, could see his curling hair and fearful eyes. She put aside her bow in order to hold out her arm to him. "Rickon! Rickon hurry!" Shouting her encouragement, Rhaena took a deep breath as she focused upon Rickon almost so entirely that she nearly missed the final arrow as it descended from the sky. They were so close now that she could hear his ragged breaths, but her eyes shifted to the dark bolt which was swiftly falling and with a start, gave a wordless yell as she flung herself from the saddle in order to tackle Rickon to the ground.
Pain sprung from her back as the arrowhead slashed through the unprotected flesh, drawing blood as Rhaena clumsily took down Rickon where her shoulder collided with his face and drew blood from a split lip and burst from his nose. They hit the ground and rolled as the horse squealed and reared back, angling itself away from the falling rider before trotting from them. Both Rickon and Rhaena felt the wind had been knocked from them, and although Rhaena was injured, it was merely a scratch. After catching her breath, she lifted her head and blearily looked towards Robb and Jon as they charged towards them, yelling to her desperately. Only at the last moment did their words register.
With a wheezing Rickon in her arms, Rhaena clenched onto him and rolled repeatedly to the side as another arrow fell upon them, thudding into the ground which was moist with dew. Lifting herself up, Rhaena drew her bow and knocked an arrow in one smooth movement, not even taking the time to aim before releasing it at full tension so that the arrow flew in a straight, direct line across the battlefield with such ferocity that Ramsay did not even see it coming until it struck the man who held his quiver of arrows, piercing his armour directly through the heart. The man died quickly, falling to the ground where Ramsay blinked and looked to him, turning him over with his boot to look at the arrow. Black with white feathers. He had not seen its like before.
Across the field, Ramsay could see the figure in white. He had assumed it had been an old man because of the paleness of their hair, but they moved too nimbly to be old, and they did not have the figure of a man. A woman, then. A woman with white hair. It tugged upon Ramsay's curiosity, but he was unable to believe his suspicions. The Targaryens, at least what was left of them, were in the east. Why would one of them be here? He pondered, watching grimly as both Robb and Jon, two threats to his rulership, reached the pair on the ground and sheltered them with their horses, rushing to dismount. It appeared the boy was not moving, though whether it was because he was dead or unconscious, Ramsay could not be certain. His arrows had not struck, so he must still be alive. The woman had ruined his game. He did not like it when people ruined his games. He would make sure to take her from the battlefield if she survives the massacre. She will have to make up for his lost fun and Ramsay promised himself he would take his time with her. Perhaps he would turn her into another Reek since his own had been stolen from him. He continued to watch the reunion, smirking to himself before calling for his archers to move forward. All three threats to his claim to the North in one cluster. It was too tempting an opportunity to miss.
The call brought Rhaena's head up once more, looking away from Rickon who was unmoving and unconscious in his brothers' arms to see the archers moving into position. "We must move." She urged them, grasping hold of Jon to drag him to his feet as Robb lifted Rickon up in his arms. "Move! Hurry! The archers!" Now seeing what had alarmed Rhaena, both Jon and Robb rushed back to their horses in order to throw themselves into the saddle. Robb held Rickon in his arms still, however when Jon held out his hand to Rhaena, she merely smiled and slammed her palm against his horse's rump, causing it to shriek and bolt forwards so suddenly Jon almost lost his seat.
"Rhaena come!" Robb lingered as the twang of strings rang through the air and the hiss of approaching arrows steadily grew louder. She turned her smile to him.
"Do not fear for me." Slapping the haunches of Robb's horse as well, Rhaena did not wait to watch him leave but instead began to walk forwards. In one hand she drew her sword, Whitefyre, and in the other she took her dragon horn from her belt. The whistling arrows descended upon her, but missed their mark for Rhaena had already walked beyond their aim. They thudded into the ground behind her as she lifted the horn to her lips, locking her gaze intently upon Ramsay Bolton. Behind her, Robb and Jon finally managed to wheel their horses around, intending to go back for her, but when a long, sharp blast sounded from the horn Rhaena carried, both horses had reared back and refused to go any further. It was as if they sensed what came next, the whites of their eyes rolling as the echoed call of the horn continued to sing until finally even the replying echoes fell silent.
For a moment, all was still. Jon still tried to urge his horse forwards, but it refused, throwing back its head with its ears pressed flat against its skull. Unable to make it move, he looked desperately ahead at Rhaena who continued to walk calmly forwards. Ramsay was delighted that the woman was now coming directly towards him, picking up his bow once more and selecting an arrow to shoot it at her. Rhaena did not even flinch. She cut the arrow with her sword and continued. Another arrow was released upon her but she cut it down as well, her stride not faltering until finally she came to a halt, close enough that she could not distinguish Ramsay Bolton's sharp features and the cruel eyes which laughed at her.
Nonplussed, she smirked. The fire was rising within her and she knew what it meant. It meant that Rhaegal was answering her. At first you could not hear him, the sound of his wings beating against the air passing as mere rumbles of thunder above them until gradually, the rhythmic beating grew louder and more constant, indicating that it was not thunder that approached them. Then Rhaegal roared, releasing his voice into a high pitched shriek of fury which sent fear rushing through the opposing army as they began to shift nervously as their horses screamed and reared, panicking as they sensed what approached them.
The clouds hid Rhaegal from view as they were thick and dark, allowing him to soar over both armies until finally he dove down with another trumpeting roar as he unfurled his impressive wings and descending upon the ground as the men below shouted and screamed in terror. Ramsay was no longer smirking. He stood frozen as he watched the beast land upon the ground, scales gleaming a deep emerald green overlaid with bronze, saw its eyes staring directly at him with a rage and power that stole the breath from his lungs. Dragon. It was a dragon. There was no further doubt. This was one of the Targaryens from the east, and she had brought a fucking dragon with her to fight alongside Robb Stark and Jon Snow. Now Rhaena smirked at him, arching an eyebrow before lifting her hand to rest it against Rhaegal, murmuring something to him before the dragon then lowered himself down to allow Rhaena to climb onto his back and settle at the base of his neck. Still Ramsay could not move. Some of his men began to flee, screeching in terror as they flung down their weapons to run from the giant beast as it snarled at them. Did it even have a weakness? Would an arrow to the eye kill it? Ramsay did not know but unless he wanted to die here, he had to try. "Loose arrows!" His voice became high pitched and even broke, betraying his fear as his archers struggled to comply. Their hands shook so greatly they could barely knock an arrow. Rhaena lifted her chin and looked down upon them all from her elevated position.
"Dracarys." With a final snarl, Rhaegal opened his mouth and released a torrent of flames upon the archers. The fire raced across the remaining distance and soon enough flesh was burning as easily as wood, the screams of the dying and in pain ringing through the air. Ramsay had flung himself to the ground in order to avoid being caught in the dragon fire but still felt the intense heat searing at his back as he covered his head pathetically. Rhaegal roared once again, stretching his wings and flapping them so that a wave of harsh air rushed against the frontlines of Ramsay's army and caused them to fall and stumble. The fires of the burnt and burning continued to thrive, igniting a thrill within Rhaena as she admired the dancing flames. Leaning lower against Rhaegal's neck, Rhaena called to him to fly. Snorting, Rhaegal took to the air to reveal the charging ranks of the Stark and wildling army as their cavalry came rushing towards them. In a panic, Ramsay ordered his own cavalry to charge them, scrambling away as the dragon flew up into the air and began to climb higher.
"Aim for the dragon. Use all the arrows you have, I don't care. Just bring it down!" Staggering away in order to mount his horse and retreat behind his army to a safer position, Ramsay listened to the sound of horses and their hooves churning up the ground whilst arrows sailed through the air. Rhaena had Rhaegal dive below their flight path, rolling upon his back to set fire to the arrows so that they became little more than ashes as Rhaegal continued his roll with his wings pressed tightly against his body before opening them once more, soaring over the battlefield and bellowing his flames upon the Bolton cavalry so that the left flank became crippled, thrusting the entire charge off balance as the left attempted to veer away from the fire only to collide with their own riders. It was enough so that when the two cavalries met, the Bolton side quickly crumbled though with their sheer numbers, it was still not enough.
Rhaena could not attack the central collision now because she could very well be setting fire to her allies as well as her enemies, though this did not seem to dissuade Ramsay from continuing to fire volley after volley against them. Seeing his archers as a nuisance, Rhaena bared her teeth and called to Rhaegal, directing his attention to the archers. With a roar he wheeled around and glided in a circle so that he could approach the Bolton archers from the side and strike them with his dragon-fire in one continuous stream. The scent of smoke and burning flesh soon filled the air, something which only drove Rhaegal's predatory instincts further. This was what he was born for. To lay waste to armies and burn all before him with his scalding flames. Soon the archers were gone, no longer a threat to himself or their allies.
Rhaegal proudly bellowed as he wheeled himself around with Rhaena still upon his back. With her own bow, Rhaena released several arrows to aim at those she thought to be leaders, taking them out as she also carefully surveyed the battle below. When she saw a threat approach either Robb or Jon, or even others she did not know, she would release an arrow and it would descend almost directly from above to slay the enemy who had attempted to attack from behind or had managed to throw someone to the ground. One such arrow saved Robb's life, killing a Bolton man as they had swung his sword at Robb's neck after falling backwards over a dead man's body.
It was utter madness below. A hellish landscape of bodies piling high as the screams of those who were yet to succumb to their injuries created a cacophonous song which belonged to nightmares and hell. The blood in Rhaena's veins curdled to hear it. Ramsay's men marched forwards with their large shields and spears, circling around Robb and Jon's army in order to trap them in a circle, pinning them against the wall of the mounted dead where Rhaena saw the bannermen under Smalljon Umber beginning to make the climb on the other side. Ramsay was relatively undefended. She could very easily land Rhaegal in front of him and have her dragon swallow him whole, but Robb and Jon were gradually being crushed in the thick throng of their own men as the shields pressed them inwards whilst the spears picked them off one by one. "Break them, Rhaegal. Collapse their line." Snarling in agreement, Rhaegal dove down when he felt her hand touch his neck in order to land with a calamitous quake, baring his fangs before whipping his tail like a lash to sweep aside a portion of the shields and spearmen. In one strike their configuration was broken, for with their shields directed inwards, there was nothing to protect their backs.
Firing several arrows from Rhaegal's back, her dragon lunged forwards and clamped his jaws around the body of one unfortunate Bolton soldier and ripped him apart, using claw, tail and fang to fight even as the rest of Ramsay's army began to overwhelm them. The shields and spears turned, thrusting towards Rhaegal who screeched in fury as Rhaena ducked, a thrown spear sailing over her shoulder and almost glancing off her face. The attack upon his rider sent Rhaegal into a blind fury, screaming at the soldiers as he released his fiery breath upon them until they too were screaming. Several spears glanced off the impenetrable scales of his chest and underbelly, however one managed to connect with his flank and became lodged there, earning another enraged screech as Rhaena yelled his name.
She was losing control, Rhaegal's rage clouding his thoughts so that she could not command him to fly away. It was not a dragon's instinct to flee but to fight, so Rhaegal turned and killed the soldier who had hurt him by putting a claw through their chest and crushing them into the ground. "Rhaegal! Rhaegal fly! Fly!" But still he refused to listen to her even as the Bolton infantry surrounded them. Wide eyed, Rhaena looked around her before turning inward, seeking the magic of her own inner fire before bring it forth into the palm of her hand, breathing deeply and with each breath, the violet-gold flames grew brighter and larger. Once she had built up the fire, she launched it amongst the Bolton infantry and with a whisper in High Valyrian, commanded it to burn.
The flames seemed to come alive as they danced upon their victims, sometimes forming the shapes of dragons as they launched with clawed hands towards the next spearman in order to burn up their spears and their shields, melt the leather of their armour and boil a man's blood even as it flowed through their veins. With the infantry distracted, Rhaena then slammed her hand against Rhaena and bellowed with all the force she could muster, channelling her magic directly at him and his mind in order to break through his rage and demand his attention. Rhaegal shuddered, spines rippling as he swung his head to rid himself of his fury before turning so that he could view Rhaena upon his back, panting and sweating. "Fly…Rhaegal…" Sensing she was weakening, Rhaegal did not hesitate to obey this time. With a final roar and bellow of flames, Rhaegal took to the air as a horn sounded, cutting through the hellscape of screams and even stilled a great deal of the fighting below.
Rising towards the clouds, Rhaena saw first who was coming. Flags sailed brilliantly as they were carried by mounted knights, charging directly towards the battle, fresh and clean and brilliant. A sea of blue bearing the white falcon of House Arryn. Lord Baelish had come. Rhaena could see him mounted atop a horse on the ridge with Sansa beside him, watching the battle as the Knights of the Vale continued their charge directly into the Bolton infantry and swept around them to cut off their escape. It was over, Rhaena realised. Ramsay's army was now overwhelmed on all fronts. He was defeated, which meant that Winterfell would be theirs. Turning her head, she looked to where she had last seen Ramsay cowering only to find that he was turning his horse away in order to flee.
With a snarl which Rhaegal understood without needing to hear distinct words, he flew directly at Ramsay with his wings spread wide, gliding low to the ground in order to chase down Ramsay Bolton before all at once, Rhaegal flapped his wings and drew himself up with a swing of his tail. The horse was knocked out from underneath him as well as those of his guards, felling Ramsay to the ground who felt his shoulder crunch and crack upon impact, causing him to cry out in pain as his ribs also buckled. He rolled some distance, broken and bleeding with dirt in his mouth which he spat out, writhing in agony until he felt the ground shudder beneath him as the dragon landed. Ramsay turned himself with a stare, grasping at his broken arm and shoulder to see the white haired woman dismounting from her dragon and begin moving towards him, her sword drawn.
Fire danced in her eyes; her jaw tightly set as she moved with the grace of a shadowcat, light, lithe and quiet. Such beauty. Ramsay had never seen a woman so fierce and dangerous. Just the sight of that expression thrilled him, insane as it was, but Ramsay had never claimed to be a sane man. He smiled to her. "So, you are the saviour who delivered Robb Stark and Jon Snow from certain death. Tell me, do you take only one of them to your bed or is it both?" Rhaena did not even validate his desperate and petty japes with an answer, instead coming to a halt before him and raising her sword in order to force his head upwards, tilting it as far as it would go until he had to crane his neck to avoid the tip from breaking through flesh. "Are you going to kill me?"
"Where is Bran Stark?" Ignoring his question, Rhaena continued to look impassively down upon Ramsay, which was perhaps more terrifying than if she were to appear enraged. She was utterly rational and cold like the wintery appearance of her hair. He could not tempt her into anger, or distract her with threats. It was she who held the power here, and it was not a sensation Ramsay was accustomed to. She had no fear of him. She had no reason to be. What Ramsay wouldn't have given to be allowed the chance to try and break a spirit like hers. Sheep and cattle, that was all he had had before, but this…this woman before him…he would have loved to have broken her down piece by piece as was his delight, and shape her into something utterly unrecognisable. His sickening grin deepened. He could not break her, or make her fear him, but he could certainly make her feel pain.
"You will never find him." He promised her, despite having no clue as to his whereabouts. In truth, he was most likely dead. Gods he hoped so, because that at least would be a small satisfaction to take with him into death which now certainly awaited him. "He'll be picked to the bone by now, little more than broken bones and empty hollows where his eyes should have been." Curling her lip in anger, Rhaena slashed her sword in a single, fluid motion. At first Ramsay did not feel it, blinking stupidly until slowly, heat began to seep against his neck and a tingling sensation began to creep against his ear until it burned. Shrieking, Ramsay let go of his broken arm in order to press his hand to where his ear had once been, now a useless, fleshy piece lying upon the ground.
"Where is Bran Stark?" Rhaena repeated once more, just in case Ramsay Bolton had not heard her the first time.
"You bitch, you will regret this when…" Another slash and Ramsay's fingers which had been clutching his bleeding orifice suddenly vanished, causing him to scream again.
"Where is Bran Stark, bastard?"
"I am Lord of Winterfell! I am a Bolton! You cannot do this to me! My hounds will feast upon you before long, I shall toss you to them to rape and ravage you!" Now screaming in madness, Ramsay attempted to clumsily grasp the hilt of his sword in order to draw it, however with another swift movement Rhaena had cut his face, once across the cheek and once down his eye, blinding him as he screamed. As he fell onto his back and began to attempt to push himself away, Rhaena caught hold of his sword and drew it, tossing it away from him into the dirt as she followed leisurely, Rhaegal also stepping after her with dark growls reverberating from the back of his throat.
"You are nothing, son of no one," she began to speak as Ramsay tremblingly tried to drag himself away from her. Another slash and scream. His legs were now cut across the hamstrings. "Bastard of a lesser man, unloved by mother or father." Slash, she cut him across the back. "Your name will be forgotten, removed from history and lost to the ages." Thrust, Rhaena pierced the back of his knee, cutting effortlessly through bone and cartilage, twisting ruthlessly even as Ramsay whimpered and began to plead for her to stop. She ripped the sword back. "No one will remember what you have done, and no one will care when you die. You will be turned to dust, where no one will shed a tear for your demise or mourn your passing. You are nothing, bastard boy. Ramsay Snow." Kicking at his gut, Rhaena turned him onto his back with another slice of her sword, masterfully controlling the blade so that it cut through flesh and bone, severing his arm at the shoulder so that now he only had one broken arm remaining, sobbing and trembling as he clutched at the bleeding stump. Over her head, Rhaegal looked down upon Ramsay and bared his teeth, exhaling his hot breath over them so that even the grass turned dry and brittle, as if withering away in fear of his presence. Staring into her face, Ramsay no longer felt any sense of bravery or bravado. He was going to die here, and this woman was going to kill him. He was powerless to save himself, and had become exactly as his own prisoners. Mutilated. Shamed. Stripped of their identity. Everything that he had worked for had been snatched from him by a mere woman. "Where is Bran Stark?" Placing her sword once more against his chin, Ramsay whimpered as tears of pain and fear spilled as he soiled his britches.
"I…I do not know…I swear it…I never had the boy, never. The Greyjoy never killed him, I made him tell me. The bodies he burned and hanged…they were orphan boys. He never had the two Stark boys, I swear it! Please…please do not kill me. I yield. I yield to you…" Tilting her head to the side, Rhaena considered Ramsay's words. Behind her the battle was coming to an end, the last of Bolton's army either being killed or taken prisoner, which left only their commander who was in Rhaena's hands and those he had left to defend Winterfell. It would be over soon enough. In regard to his vows, however, Rhaena decided that she believed him. A man such as Ramsay was a coward at heart, one who only preyed on those weaker than himself and now that he was lost, he would not lie. His fear would bring the truth from his lips, so Rhaena was convinced that he did not know where Bran Stark was, only that he had left Winterfell with Rickon alive. That meant only Rickon would know what had happened to him. Rhaena had hoped it would be a simple case of finding Bran a prisoner in Winterfell, but instinct told her this was not the case.
"I believe you." She said to him as she removed her sword from his throat, still regarding him carefully. "I believe you do not have Bran Stark. For your sake, you had better hope he is still alive." Ramsay began to breathe, still stemming the blood from his arm stump. Thinking that he was now safe from execution, he turned a dark glower of hatred upon Rhaena, intending to curse her in some manner, however before he could speak a word, two giant shapes appeared beside her, both snarling with their heads lowered as they stared at him ravenously. Direwolves. "Grey Wind. Nymeria." Lifting her head, Rhaena allowed herself a small smirk as she raised her hands to rest them upon the backs of the two direwolves who had come from the battle, muzzles soaked in blood. "Kill." With snarls and growls, both direwolves lunged forwards and opened their maws as Ramsay screamed, throwing up his remaining arm in order to futilely shield himself only for Grey Wind to clamp his jaw around it and drag it with a sickening twist which pulled the arm completely away from the socket. With another wrench, the arm came clean off. Rhaena watched with Rhaegal as the direwolves mauled Ramsay, biting and tearing at his clothes and armour to expose his flesh, going for the soft parts of his belly first. They savaged him without mercy, seemingly purposefully drawing out the experience until Ramsay died writhing in agony with a mask of pain etched permanently onto his face. Rhaena had not once flinched during the entire affair.
Behind her, Robb and Jon had ridden to her, carefully avoiding Rhaegal before dismounting and approaching to see the direwolves now feasting upon Ramsay, gnawing upon his bones and pulling his innards out from the opening of his gut. Even Robb struggled to look. Rhaena merely turned away with a blank expression, lifting her eyes to see them and so approached. "Rhaena…what have you done?"
"Nothing he did not deserve. In any case, it was your wolves that killed him in the end. What's done is done." Brushing them off, Rhaena lifted her hand in order to stroke Rhaegal's face, glancing him over for any injuries. The spear that had hurt his leg was gone and the injury had not cut deep, so she assured herself that he was well. "Winterfell is yours for the taking now. We should hurry. There will be men in need of treatment and others in need of drink." Striding away from them, Rhaena went over to the mangled body of Ramsay Bolton and with a single cut of her blade, took off his head. She grasped it by the hair before then going to Rhaegal, mounting his back and flew off towards Winterfell in order to take it back from the men who guarded it. It took very little effort to make them surrender.
All Rhaena needed to do was fly overhead upon Rhaegal and toss the severed head of Ramsay into the courtyard for his men to see before she then landed upon the outside wall, Rhaegal rising up onto his hind legs so that he could lower his neck and head over the wall and bare his fangs menacingly to the soldiers inside. They gave up their arms immediately and surrendered. With that it was finally over and Winterfell was once more the seat of House Stark, Robb entering with what remained of his men and the wildling army, Jon and Sansa at his side. Rhaena watched them return with a pensive expression before looking to where Lord Baelish also watched them, greed glinting in his eyes. No, not quite over. There was still a great deal to be done, but for now at least they could enjoy this victory. It had taken several years, but just as Rhaena had wished, she had finally returned to Winterfell. The place where she had first known true happiness and contentment.