Read. Enjoy. Review. (The reading and enjoying are for you, the reviews are for me!)
I own Lenora Baratheon, nothing more.
This whopper of a chapter, 11,300 words (before the author's note at the end) is for my friend StarkTeller. You may recognize her as the lovely soul who has now posted two fan videos for this story on youtube, but her birthday is also this week. I wanted to make sure I got this published before then. Happy birthday, friend!
Just as a warning, though I don't think anything in this chapter is particularly gruesome (I have a strong stomach and a tendency to watch SAW movies when I can't sleep so I might be biased) I will warn you that this chapter is the BotB so it will involve quite a bit of blood.
In particular, someone will die during the third POV and then during the last. Be prepared for both!
Chapter Seventy-Six: Four Arrows
Jaime
"Do you think Ramsay will try to attack us tonight?" The boy posed the question once he and the others had returned to camp after meeting with Ramsay. It was dark outside, already late, and the tent was filled with the members of his war council. Ser Davos from the South, Tormund the Wildling, Jaime, Lenora, and even little Lyanna Mormont who had stubbornly refused to be left out. They were gathered around the table where Jon had laid out the battle plan for the next morning. His dark eyes lifted from the map and landed on Jaime. "Do you think he'll try to catch us by surprise?"
The corner's of Jaime's lips turned up into a smirk. "It is what I would do," he told the boy honestly. "It's what I tried to do with your brother once, but he set the trap better than I did." His gaze fell on Lenora, silently wondering how she would handle the reminder of the night Robb had captured him. Her shoulders were tense, but that was the only sign of discomfort. He turned his gaze on Jon again. "But I don't think the bastard will," he told the boy. "When you already have the larger force, surprising your enemy in the middle of the night makes you appear weak."
Ser Davos nodded, "It's not his way," he agreed. Jaime turned toward him, the old man had surprised him over the last month. For a man who had never been a true knight and had very little in the form of proper schooling, he was smart in the ways of battle. He could understand why Stannis had relied so much on the man. "He knows the North is watching," Davos continued. "He'll want to give them a show. And as Ser Jaime said, attacking us under the cover of darkness shows weakness. If the other Houses sense it, they will stop fearing him. He can't have that, fear is his power."
"It's his weakness too," Jon agreed. "His men don't want to fight for him. They're forced to fight for him. If they feel the tide turning -"
Jaime felt Lenora stiffen beside him, a silent indication that she disagreed with Jon's statement. "The Karstarks are not forced to fight for him," she interrupted, not only silently disagreeing with Jon now. "If given the choice between fighting for you and fighting for Ramsay, even if the odds were better, even if the odds were in our favor - they would chose Ramsay. Harald Karstark will never choose the brother of the man who killed his father."
Jon turned to her, "But his brothers," he started. "Harrion and Torrhen they -"
"I killed them," Jaime admitted, his voice quiet, and yet hard as steel. "Slid my sword through the throat of one of them. Cut off the other one's arm." He knew he was being callous, but it was the way he had always dealt with battle, keeping it at a safe distance, taunting the dead, if only to keep himself from feeling guilty for what he had done. "Don't know which was which, I didn't care at the time."
Lenora nodded, she wasn't as callous as Jaime, but she understood, "And then Lord Rickard and his men killed Willem and Martyn Lannister, two little boys, as revenge for Jaime killing his sons. And then Robb beheaded Lord Rickard. It goes on and on. And whatever loyalty the Karstarks held to the Starks was lost along the way."
"But Lord Rickard was beheaded for treason -" Jon argued. Jaime scoffed, the boy was just as stubbornly honorable as his father. He wondered how any of the Starks had managed to last this long in the world, believing that everyone was as honorable as them.
"You weren't there the day Harald bent the knee to the Boltons," Lenora interrupted him. "I was. Do you know what he said to Roose? The Starks lost my House the day King Robb cut off my father's head and called it justice. It's time for new blood in the North. He and his men will fight to the death for Ramsay, if only because it means they will fight against the last of the Starks."
Tormund, the giant red headed Wildling, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "It's not his men that worry me," he growled out. "It's his horses." He nodded toward Ser Davos, "I know what mounted knights can do to us. You and Stannis cut through us like piss through snow."
Lenora's lips turned up at the corners, Jaime knew that over the last month she had come to appreciate the Wildling for his blunt nature. He didn't soften his tone or his language around her because she was a woman or a princess and she enjoyed that. "We're digging trenches all along our flanks," she told him softly. "They won't be able to hit us the way Stannis hit you in a double envelopment."
Tormund stared at her for a moment, his brows furrowed as he tried to understand what she meant. When he couldn't understand it he turned toward Jon, waiting for an explanation. "A pincer move," the boy explained.
Tormund was still quiet, he looked down at the map for a moment before his gaze lifted, his eyes darting between Jaime and Jon before lowering to the map again. A silent admission that he still had no idea what they were talking about.
Jon's own gaze landed on Davos, silently wondering how to explain contemporary battle techniques to a man who had learned to fight north of the Wall where they were never battles, but rather skirmishes between small, warring tribes. He gestured toward the map before them, his hands separating wide, "They won't be able to hit us from the sides," he told Tormund as he brought his hands in toward the center.
Tormund nodded, he no longer looked confused, "Good," he told Jon matter-of-factly.
"It's crucial that we let them charge at us," Jaime told them, glancing around the table, looking for any disagreement from the others. "They've got the numbers, we need the patience." Lenora smirked, patience had never been one of Jaime's strong suits and they both knew it. Jon looked away from him, glancing toward Davos to see if the older man agreed. When Davos nodded, Jon nodded too.
Jaime tried not to let it needle him or hurt his pride that the boy seemed to trust Davos more than him. He may have once been the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, but he was still a Lannister, no matter how loyal he was to Lenora. He suspected that the boy was just waiting for him to betray them. He wouldn't, not as long as Lenora was united with them. But for the first time in a very long time, he was going to have to prove himself.
"If we let him buckle our center, he'll pursue," Davos agreed with Jaime. "Then we'll have him surrounded on three sides."
It was a good plan, but there were so many ways it could go wrong. Jaime was about to say so when Lenora spoke up. "We can't surround them on all sides though," she warned the men around the table. "We should narrow the gap, but never close it."
"Why not?" Jon asked her, his brows furrowed.
Lenora looked away from him, glancing toward Jaime, an eyebrow raised, silently asking him if she should continue. Jaime could understand her caution. He could still remember the day that Lenora had sat in his father's solar with Tywin, no more than seven years old, and already learning how to devise battle plans from one of the harshest and most intelligent commanders the Seven Kingdoms had seen in recent years. Tywin had taught her about the pincer move, its strengths and weaknesses. He reached out for her hand, meaning to squeeze it, to give her comfort. The memory couldn't have been a pleasant or easy one for her now. Not after everything that Tywin had done, not after he had died.
She moved her hand away from him, she didn't want his comfort, at least not when it applied to Tywin Lannister. "If you close the gap completely Ramsay's force will be trapped. When completely surrounded the target force will fight with more ferocity. They will be fighting for their lives, and they will do so violently. But the force would lose its formation and be more vulnerable to destruction if shown an avenue of escape." She glanced around the table, quietly seeing if any of the men understood what she meant.
It was Lyanna Mormont who spoke up. "If you nearly surround them, but leave a small path to escape. They'll fight for themselves. They'll lose sight of their purpose and trample each other in an effort to save their own lives."
Lenora smiled at the girl and nodded, "You're just like your mother," she praised the child. "So smart." A ghost of a smile played at the corners of the solemn girl's lips.
Jon nodded, "So tomorrow. We allow them to think they have us on the run. We let them buckle our center and surround them, almost completely and then we pick them off from the outside."
"It won't be that easy," Jaime cautioned. "Battle never is. But that is the ideal."
Tormund glanced a Jon, "Did you really think that cunt would fight you man to man?" he asked, his voice still a growl, but quieter.
Jon shook his head, "No," he admitted. Jaime was pleased to hear it. He had thought the boy a fool that afternoon when he had suggested it to the Bolton bastard. "But I wanted him angry." He spoke louder when he turned toward the table, "Tomorrow I want him coming at us at full tilt."
Many around the table nodded in agreement. Out of the corner of his eye Jaime could have sworn that he had seen Lenora shake her head, as if disagreeing with Jon. When she spoke her voice was quiet, but it was not soft. It left little room for argument from anyone, including him. "We should all get some sleep," she told them. "Tomorrow will come early enough as it is." She paused for a moment before her grey eyes landed on Jon. "I would like a word with you," she told him.
Tormund, Davos, and Lyanna started to leave the tent. Each of them nodded goodbyes to everyone they passed, whispering well wishes. Jaime did not move, he assumed that whatever Lenora meant to say to Jon she wanted him to hear as well. Lenora put an end to that assumption when her grey-eyed gaze flicked to him. "Alone," she commanded softly.
He opened his mouth to argue with her before he remembered his place. He was no longer her uncle or guardian. It was no longer his job to raise her or govern her actions. He was the Lord Commander of her new Queensguard, it was his duty to protect her, to serve her, to offer his suggestions. But if she told him to leave her, it was also his duty to obey. Even if he did not like it. He closed his mouth with a snap and nodded.
She reached out for him, dropping her hand on his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, silently telling him that she was not angry at him. He nodded again, this time forcing a smile onto his lips before he turned and left the tent. He did not go far, he stood just outside the tent flaps, leaning back, his ear turned toward them. Whatever she wanted to tell Jon, she didn't want him to hear and that made him even more curious.
It was quiet for a moment on the other side of the tent flaps and then he heard Lenora take a deep breath in, as if steeling herself for a fight. "It's not going to work," she warned Jon carefully, her voice almost a whisper. He leaned closer toward the tent flap, turning even more so that he could squint through the small opening an watch what was happening.
Lenora and Jon were standing on opposite sides of the table. Jon staring down at the map, Lenora watching Jon. At her words the boy looked up sharply. "The plan?" he asked, he turned slightly, gesturing toward the tent flaps, "Why didn't you tell them that? Why send them away just to tell me that we're going to lose tomorrow."
Lenora shook her head, not backing down from the boy's anger. "Not the plan," she specified, "that could work. But making him angry. It won't work."
Jon's voice and face softened. "Why not?" he asked her.
"You've known him for the space of a single conversation. I lived with the man. I know the way his mind works. I know the way he tricks people. I know him." She paused and shook her head, pacing on her side of the table. Jaime watched as the boy's dark eyes tracked her. Even from his distance, even peeking through the tent flaps he could see the guilt and pain shining in Jon Snow's eyes. He was disappointed in himself that he had not protected Lenora sooner, that she had had to live with Ramsay for so long. Jaime could see it in the boy, because he knew the feeling, he lived with it every day.
"His men might fall into your trap," Lenora continued as she paced. "In the heat of the battle once Ramsay's control over them is weakened. They might fall into your trap, but not Ramsay. He doesn't fall into traps, he's the one that lays them."
"He's overconfident," Jon argued.
Lenora shook her head, "He plays with people," she corrected Jon. "And he's far better at it than you or I or even Jaime. He's been doing it all his life."
"Aye," Jon argued, the anger back in his tone. "And what have I been doing all my life? Playing with broomsticks?" He stepped closer to the table, some of the anger in him softening when Lenora took a quick step back, as if afraid that he meant to attack her. "I've fought beyond the Wall against worse than Ramsay Bolton. I've defended the Wall from worse than Ramsay Bolton."
Lenora shook her head, "You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your good sister." She whispered, reciting the letter that Ramsay had sent Jon. Jaime was surprised, he had burned the letter the day after it was delivered, he couldn't imagine when his niece had found the time to memorize it. Jon shook his head, silently asking her to stop, but she refused, she kept going, her voice getting louder with each line. "You will watch as I peel the skin from her body one piece at a time. You will watch as she suffers. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. You will watch when I turn your two younger sisters into my new toys. Then I will spoon your eyes from your sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see."
She paused for one long moment, her grey gaze dark and stormy as she stared at Jon across the table. The boy looked almost broken, completely defeated. She nodded and when she spoke again her voice was soft, "Tell me again how you have fought against worse than Ramsay Bolton." She shook her head, "You don't know him."
Jon sighed, "Alright," he agreed. "Tell me. How do we get Rickon back?"
There was a long pause. Jaime watched as something danced across Lenora's face, it looked almost like fear and heart break. Her gaze dropped from Jon's face and she sighed, "We'll never get him back," she told Jon softly. Jon shook his head, silently arguing with her, but she kept going. "Rickon is Ned Stark's last trueborn son which makes him a greater threat to Ramsay than you, a bastard, or Sansa, Arya, and me as girls. As long as he lives Ramsay's claim to Winterfell will be contested, which means ..."
"He won't live long," Jon interrupted, his voice soft. He shook his head, looking utterly defeated now. He sank into one of the chairs, looking up at Lenora, almost pleading with her. "I can't give up on my brother," he told her, beseeching her to understand.
"And you think I want to?" Lenora asked. "I was the one who took care of him after Bran fell, when your mother couldn't leave his bedside. I was the one that wiped his tears, who sang him songs and told him stories and promised him he would be safe at Winterfell when Robb and I left. I don't want to give up on him either. But this isn't about what you or I want. This is about what Ramsay wants. And he wants you to make a mistake." She shook her head, her voice softening. "Just don't do what he wants you to do."
Jon nodded, "You'll let me know when you find out what that is?" he asked her sarcastically.
Lenora smiled ruefully and nodded. She started to turn away, to walk toward the tent flaps, Jaime turned, meaning to move away, to find some place to hide so that she wouldn't know that she had spied on him, but then she stopped, and turned back toward the table.
"What is it, Nora?" he heard Jon ask softly.
Jaime turned back toward the tent flap, squinting and peeking through the opening again. He watched as Lenora moved back toward the table, this time coming to stand on Jon's side of it. He watched as she reached out and grabbed a cup of ale off the table, he couldn't remember who it had belonged to, perhaps Tormund, she brought it to her lips and drained it in one long sip, as if stalling and searching for courage at the bottom of the cup.
"Lenora?" Jon asked again as she put the now empty cup back on the table.
"If Ramsay wins," she said softly, "I'm not going back there alive." She spoke softly, but her voice did not waiver. No matter how horrible her statement was, she had made up her mind. She wasn't telling Jon so that he could try to talk her out of it. She was telling him so that he would know what she expected of him.
Jaime could not see her face, her back was turned to him, but he could see Jon's. He could see the way the boy's brows furrowed. He could see the way his face softened, almost crumbling under the weight of Lenora's words. Jon Snow's face was an echo of the painful tightening in Jaime's own chest, his heart beating rapidly at what Lenora meant by her words.
"Do you understand me?" she asked him, her voice hard.
Jon's dark gaze locked on her face. When he spoke Jaime could hear the pain and guilt in the young man's voice. "I won't ever let him touch you again," he promised Lenora. "I'll protect you, Nora, I promise."
Lenora shook her head, "If he wins no one will be able to protect me. No one will be able to protect anyone. We'll all be dead, it'll just take longer for some."
This time when she turned to leave the tent she did not turn back. Jaime barely had time to move away from the tent. He barely had time to hide. Though, he wasn't sure that it would matter. Lenora's head was so full when she left the tent that he wasn't sure if she saw anything.
He would have to go after her soon. He still meant to try to talk her out of taking part in the battle the next morning. But they both needed space to come to terms with what she had just told Jon Snow. He couldn't go to her now, she would know that he had spied on her.
He needed time to mourn.
-.-.-.-.-
Jon
I'm not going back there alive.
He hadn't slept well the night before. Every time he closed his eyes he heard her voice. It had been a contradiction, her voice. She had spoken softly, barely more than a whisper, but that whisper had held more power than he had ever heard. It was like water or wind, or even fire. At first quiet, almost peaceful. But a moment later it was a dull roar, leaving no room for argument. Powerful enough to make his bones vibrate.
I'm not going back there alive.
She hadn't told him that to give him a chance to argue with her. She hadn't been pleading with him to save her or rescue her or protect her. It had been a warning, a promise, a vow. She would sooner kill herself than let Ramsay take her back alive.
He had promised that he would protect her. He swore to her that he would never let Ramsay Bolton touch her again. It was a vow that he intended to keep. But every time he closed his eyes he saw her face the moment he promised her that. He saw the pain in her eyes, the way that for a brief moment her lip trembled. He could see her fear when she admitted out loud that she doubted anyone could protect her from the bastard.
She had told him that he was the only one at camp who knew what Ramsay had done to her, all that he had done to her. She hadn't told her uncle anything. He had seen some of the bruises, the cuts, and the scars. But he had not seen the worst of it, and she wouldn't tell him. She had trusted Jon with her story. But the night before in the tent Jon wondered if she had held back even from him.
That was how great her fear was. That was how strong her conviction was.
I'm not going back there alive.
When dawn came, cold and grey he gave up on pretending to sleep, her voice was still ringing in his ears, still so full of determination. He made a vow to himself, no matter what happened, win or lose, he wouldn't let Ramsay take Lenora alive, even if he had to kill the girl himself.
He had failed Robb once when he was unable to protect his wife. He would not fail his brother again. He would keep Lenora out of Ramsay's grasp. He might not be able to keep her alive, she was so certain that he wouldn't, but he would protect her.
...
In spite of their situation, in spite of the battle looming on the horizon, he wasn't able to stop the smile from spreading to his lips when he saw Lenora mounting her horse, dressed in breeches and a shirt, a sword belted around her waist, a small breastplate covering her chest. She did not wear a helm, they could not find one small enough to fit her head without obstructing her vision. She did not wear chainmail, she swore it slowed her down. Her dark hair was pulled back, away from her face, braided into a plait.
She looked ready to go to war.
Jaime Lannister, always at her side, looked less certain as he watched his niece out of the corner of his eye.
"Your uncle wasn't able to persuade you to stay back with the other girls?" Jon asked, purposefully keeping his voice light as he started to saddle his own horse. He had never been certain that the knight would try, but he had hoped. And more than that, he had hoped that the man would be successful.
Lenora glanced between the two of them, clearly unimpressed with them. "As I have told both of you, several times, I am through letting men fight for me. This is as much my fight as it is yours, Snow, and I will not allow the two of you to put me on the sidelines."
Jon chuckled, she was stubborn and strong. Everything Robb had needed in a wife. He could see, now clear as day, why his brother had fallen so deeply and so quickly for Lenora Baratheon. And he wished, more than he had ever done before, that Robb had somehow lived to see what Lenora had become. He knew his brother would be proud of her. "Far be it for me to tell a princess what to do," he told her softly, inclining his head to her in mock respect.
"Haven't you heard, Snow?" Jaime asked him from his horse. "They're calling her queen now."
Jon nodded, he had heard the men that she had brought to the Wall with her calling her queen. At first he had thought it was a hold over from when she and Robb had claimed the North. but he soon realized that Stannis' men had claimed her as their own, not because of Robb, but because of her. She had yet to tell him outright, but he could imagine that if they won this battle against Ramsay and took Winterfell back, Lenora did not intend to stay in the North for long. She had other battles planned in the South.
"And a fine one she is," he forced out with a smile to hide his worries.
When she turned to look at him, her grey eyes were distant and careful. As if she were trying to guess what he was thinking. Perhaps wondering if he still remembered the conversation they had had the night before. He glanced briefly at Jaime for a moment before he turned back to Lenora and nodded. He remembered.
I'm not going back there alive.
...
The men were silent as he rode through them, remembering once that his father had told him and Robb that it was good to let his men see him before a battle. It wasn't a large army, though given what he had to work with and how little time he had had to build it, he was proud. The bulk of the force was made up of Wildlings. But there were Lenora's eighty southern men, some carrying their own sigils and banners, others carrying tattered direwolf banners. There was a small collection of men fighting under the moose of House Hornwood. The sixty fighting men that fought under Mormont's bear. There weren't many mounted riders. Himself, Ser Davos, Ser Jaime, Lenora, the Hound, Bronn and Ser Justin.
He had tried to give Tormund a horse, but the red headed Wildling had told him that he was better in battle on his feet. He stood now beside Wun Wun, the tall man made to look small beside the giant. Both of their gazes trained on the open field in front of them.
As Jon reined his horse to a stop he allowed his gaze to fall on the field as well. It was wide and empty. Their trenches were not nearly as deep or as wide as he would have wanted, but it was too late now.
In the middle of the field were four fiery crosses, each bearing a body that had been flayed before set on fire. Disgust settled heavy in Jon's stomach as he looked past the flayed men to the shape of Winterfell behind them. Flaying had been outlawed in the North under his father, it made him sick to see it now in the shadow of Ned Stark's keep.
Between the flayed men and Winterfell stood Ramsay's army. Many of his solders were mounted, the front line seemed to stretch on forever, stretching the entire length of the clearing. Jon had never been particularly confident with their odds, but now, as his gaze landed on the men he would be fighting he realized that he had led each and every one of his men to their deaths.
He almost turned to them, about to order them to abandon him, to tell them that this was his fight, not theirs, when Lenora moved her horse to stand beside his. "They look united now," she told him, her voice soft and almost comforting. "But in the chaos of battle they will forget their orders, they will try to save themselves."
"That didn't happen to Robb's men," Jon argued.
Lenora nodded, "You're right," she agreed with him. "But Robb's men were loyal because they loved him. With the exception of the Karstarks, many of these men are loyal to save their own necks. And that loyalty will not hold."
He nodded and reached out for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as a way of thanking her. Perhaps she had not known that he had needed her encouragement. But she had said exactly what he needed to hear. He appreciated that.
Then, still holding her hand in his he turned to face the Bolton army, waiting for them to make the first move, certain that he would be able to be more patient than Ramsay. He reminded himself of the plan, he intended to let Ramsay come to him, to rush at him, to buckle their center, and then they would close the gap and surround his force on nearly all sides.
Ramsay's horse moved slowly through the men, he was pulling something behind him. Just after his horse had cleared the front line he pulled the reins to stop the beast. And then he climbed down.
He was so far away that Jon had to narrow his eyes and squint to make him out, but he knew, bone deep, that Ramsay was watching him as he walked forward, pulling whatever he had behind him away from the line. They moved far enough forward that Jon was able to pick up on some of the details. Ramsay was pulling a human behind him. Awkwardly stooped, and underfed. Dressed in a warm wool cloak.
It took him a long time to make sense of what he was looking at. From the moment he had realized that Ramsay was pulling a man behind him he had assumed it was Rickon. It was the only thing that made sense to him, Ramsay had been taunting Jon with Rickon since Lenora had run to the Wall. Lenora had warned him the night before that Ramsay would try to play with him, to torture him before the battle even began. They had both come to the quiet, unwanted agreement that no matter what happened today, Rickon would not live. And so, he had come to the battlefield half expected to watch as Ramsay killed Rickon before his very eyes. It made sense. And this was the moment.
But as he squinted at the two figures across the field he realized that the stooped, underfed man behind Ramsay was not his little brother.
Lenora was much quicker than him.
He heard her sharp intake of breath as she recognized the man. He felt her tense underneath his hand as Ramsay yanked the poor soul to a stop beside him and unsheathed his sword. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched as her eyes widened as Ramsay lifted his blade above his head and stood for a moment, completely still and poised to kill.
"Theon," Lenora whispered.
"Nora," Jon warned, his voice quiet and hard.
Her fist tightened around her horse's reins. She wasn't listening to him.
-.-.-.-.-
Lenora
Her heart was no longer in her chest. It was in her throat, threatening to come up. It was beating in her ears, loud and roaring, blocking out all other sounds around her. She could not blink, she could not look away. Without noticing she had dropped Jon's hand and swung herself down from her horse, rushing forward on foot to get a better look at the two distant figures to ensure that it truly was Theon and not one of Ramsay's tricks.
It was him, she knew it. She had spent too many months staring at him while he pretended to be Reek that it was impossible now for her to not recognize him. She had thought that after setting her free he might go back. That under Ramsay's torture and anger the brief glimpse of Theon that she had seen when he helped her escape would disappear and Reek would return. But she had been wrong. Even from this distance she could see him for what he was. Theon Greyjoy, stubborn and strong and brave even while starved and beaten.
Ramsay began to lower his sword and Lenora thought for a moment she might throw up before instead of cutting off Theon's head Ramsay cut the rope just above his wrists. It left Theon with his wrists bound, but he was no longer physically trapped by Ramsay.
Both Jon and Jaime had moved quietly, dismounting after her and approaching her on such silent feet that she jumped a bit when Jaime's hand fell on her shoulder, restraining her, while Jon spoke from her other side. "Whatever happens," he warned her, his voice hard, he was steeling himself for the worst. "Don't play into it. He's trying to break you."
Lenora nodded, she knew that, but as she watched Theon standing so close to Ramsay it was hard for her to remember it. This was her fault. If she had not taunted Ramsay the day before, if she had not insulted him, he might not have thought to punish her before the battle. A part of her had always known that just like Rickon, Theon would not survive Ramsay long, but she hadn't thought that Ramsay would make her watch it.
She had not thought that she would be his target before the battle began.
For a moment they stood side by side, man and monster. They seemed to be having a conversation. And then she watched as Ramsay shoved Theon away from him, pointing toward Lenora and Jon and their men. "What is he doing?" she whispered as Theon started to slowly, uncertainly make his way forward. She had expected Ramsay to kill Theon, she could not understand why he seemed to be setting him free. None of it made any sense to her.
"Setting a trap," Jaime whispered back. But Lenora barely heard him because across the field one of the Bolton men had brought Ramsay a bow and a sheath of arrows.
Theon started to run faster. Lenora stared for one more wide-eyed moment as Ramsay unsheathed the first arrow and then she turned, shaking Jaime's hand off of her shoulder, pushing past Jon as she sprinted back toward her abandoned horse and threw herself into the saddle. In the back of her mind she knew that this was exactly what she had warned Jon against the night before. This was one of Ramsay's games, one she was meant to lose. But she couldn't just stand there while she watched Ramsay go through target practice while using Theon as the target.
She couldn't.
She wasn't gentle when she kicked the horse's sides, urging it forward, pushing it to a gallop before she had even cleared her line. Jon was still standing where she had left him, his dark eyes trained on Theon as the broken man continued to try to cross the large open space between the two armies. "Lenora!" she heard him yell as she rushed past him.
She did not stop.
Ramsay took his time nocking his first arrow. He took his time, finding his aim. He loosed it. The arrow landed to Theon's left, missing him by almost five feet. Lenora felt hope bubbling up inside of her, all she needed to do was reach Theon, to save him like he had saved her. All Theon needed to do was keep running until he was out of range. Jon had told her the night before that Ramsay was over confident. She had laughed it off, but perhaps he had been right. Maybe this game wouldn't play out the way that Ramsay meant it to.
Maybe they could beat him.
She heard the sound of a horse's hooves behind her and she turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder to see Jaime and Bronn chasing after her. But she had gotten a head start and they were much heavier than she was. They would not reach her. They should have stayed back. Jaime called out to her, begging her to stop, to come back. She turned away from him, her gaze forward again, locked on Theon as he continued to run.
Ramsay reached for his second arrow. Lenora yelled, urging her horse to go even faster. Theon was running at her full tilt. This arrow flew wide, landing to the right and behind Theon. Just a bit further, Lenora thought. Just a bit further and Theon would be safe and out of Ramsay's reach. She had told Jon the night before that he wouldn't be able to save anyone, that no one could. But she could do this.
She could save Theon.
Ramsay reached for a third arrow.
Theon stumbled over his own feet, falling to the ground for a moment. "Stay down!" Lenora yelled at him, urging her horse to go even faster. He didn't listen, his hands were still bound as he clumsily pushed himself up to his knees and then onto his feet. For a moment he stood there staring at her. "Run!" she yelled to him, unsure if he could hear her over the sound of her horse's hooves. "Theon run!"
He started to run again, straight toward her. But he was no longer silent, perhaps he never had been. He was yelling to her, ordering her to turn around and return to Jon and the rest of her army. His voice cracked, much the way it had the last time she had seen him. He meant to send her back to safety, but the sound of his voice did little more than push Lenora forward. He was so close, she needed to get to him. She needed to save him.
She was holding her reins in her left hand now, her right hand was outstretched down and out, ready to catch Theon and swing him up into the saddle before turning around and riding back to the line. She would send Theon with a guard back to the Stark girls and Lyanna. They were being guarded by a small group, Brienne of Tarth had been tasked with their safety. He would be safe there too.
The third arrow sailed over Theon's head and landed in front of him.
Ramsay reached for a fourth.
Lenora was so close now that she could hear Theon, whimpering as he ran. There was a time when Theon would have been too proud to admit that he was afraid. There was a time when he would have faced Ramsay rather than run from him. But that time was gone, it had been beaten out of him. Theon was afraid, he was broken and starving and afraid. Just as he had been the night he helped her escape from Winterfell. She had seen it that night and she had left him, she had allowed him to talk her out of forcing him to come with her. She had abandoned him. And failed him. She would not do that again. She would save him.
She was no more than three feet away from Theon, so close, when the arrow shot through him, piercing his heart from behind. The man fell, landing on his back and gasping for air. Lenora pulled her horse to a sharp stop and stared down, watching as her friend, one of the few connections she had to Robb, died. A few more wet, gurgling gasps of air before everything stilled.
She could not hear the men behind her. She could not see the battle lines. Her vision tunneled, all she could see was Theon. The arrowhead peaking through his chest. The blood on his lips. His pale, bruised skin, stretched tightly over the bones in his face.
She felt nothing. As she rode toward Theon she had allowed hope to rise up inside of her, to chase away any doubt or fear she felt about the battle. For a few moments she had felt certain that as long as she was able to save Theon everything else would work out as well. But now she had failed.
When the hope had rushed out of her, the fear and doubt had not rushed in. She was left feeling empty and cold. She was not afraid to die. In fact, as she watched Ramsay turn his back as his she and Theon were nothing, she realized that she feared nothing. She did not care if she lived or died. She did not give a shit about anything, as long as that monster died with her.
The sounds of the battle came back to her in a roar. Behind her she could hear Jaime and Bronn desperately trying to rach her. Davos and Jon were yelling at their men to prepare to charge. In front of her she could hear one of Ramsay's commanders giving orders to the archers. Nock. Draw. Loose.
She yelled, urging her horse forward again, her eyes trained on Ramsay as she rode, arrows soaring past her though non of them hit her.
"Follow your commander!" she heard Davos yell and without looking behind her she knew that Jon was following her. And behind him, their men. Their battle plan had fallen apart, just as she had warned Jon that it would. They were supposed to wait for Ramsay to come to them and instead she had fallen into his trap and brought the rest of their army with her. She was stupid, she could imagine Tywin watching her and shaking his head in disappointment, this was not the granddaughter he had trained and taught.
But just as she did not fear death, she did not fear his judgement. Tywin Lannister had not known what loyalty meant. He had not known what it meant to love. Or to lose. Not since her grandmother's death at least. It made him one of the greatest generals in Westeros, and one of the most terrible men. If she were given the choice, she would rather be a fool who died trying to save a friend's life than one who died alone.
They would both end up in the ground no matter what.
The second wave of arrows hit her horse, sending the large beast tumbling to the ground to die. Lenora fell with the animal, launching herself forward and away from it so that she wouldn't end up trapped beneath the beast. It took her a moment to find her bearings and to stand, once again, facing Ramsay's troops.
When she did she was met with a wall of mounted riders, quickly closing the gap between themselves and her. She waited for the feat to settle in now, now that she knew for certain that she would die.
It never came.
"Alright," she whispered to herself as she began to unsheathe her sword. This was why she was here. To defend her family. To defend Theon, the man who had risked his life to save her. To defend Winterfell. To die for them. It was a good way to die. When Jon had told her about his own death he had told her that he was ready for it. She had laughed, thought it impossible to ever be ready for death, but now she understood.
She was ready too.
Before Ramsay's men reached her, her own men charged past her to meet them.
And then, the chaos of battle truly set in.
-.-.-.-.-
Jon
He charged forward with the rest of them. He knew that many seasoned commanders would have held back, they would have led from the rear. It was what Tywin Lannister might have done; it was what they liked to pretend Joffrey was doing when he was still alive. It was how Cersei Lannister had lived her entire life.
But Lenora, who had been raised by these Lannister lions would not have done that. And neither would Jon. He was the son of Eddard Stark. And his father had always led from the front. And so had his brother. And so would he. His father was dead, his brother was dead, he had no doubt that by the end of the day Lenora would be dead as well. But he would not let her die alone.
He would not let their men die alone.
Lenora had led the army headfirst into a battle they had no hope of winning. And because they loved her they had followed, many of them knowing that they would not survive. It was a loyalty that Jon had never seen before in his life, one he doubted he would ever see again. He would not leave them alone in it.
And so, he unsheathed his sword and with a roar he charged with the rest of them. Ahead of him he could see Grey Wind moving though the men, desperate to reach Lenora. Ghost was at Jon's side, growling, his red eyes locked on the Bolton men ahead of them. Jaime was not wearing his helm, his gold Lannister hair was shining in the weak sunlight as he chased after his niece, "With me, Lenny!" He heard the older man yell, just as desperate as the large grey wolf to keep the girl safe. "With me!"
Jaime and Jon got to Lenora at the same time. One of her men, Ser Justin, had given her his horse. In spite of their situation, or perhaps because of it, Lenora grinned as she turned her head toward Jaime. "No!" she yelled out of ver the noise. "With me, Uncle Jaime!"
Jon watched as Jaime Lannister turned, staring at her for a moment before his own lips twisted into a grim smile. Then he held his sword high above his head, "Baratheon!" he yelled.
Ser Justin and many of the men around her took up the cheer, adding their own voice as they rushed forward to meet Ramsay's men. Baratheon!
Jon smiled, adding his own voice. His last thought before the chaos around him took over was that he hoped that Ramsay heard that cheer. And he hoped that the bastard knew that it was for her.
-.-.-.-.-
Lenora
She quickly realized that Robb had not given her as much freedom in battle as she had once thought. This was nothing like the times he had allowed her to ride with him. This was complete chaos. This was death. This was mud and blood and excrement. It was the screams of dying men and horses. And the hopelessness of not always being one hundred per cent certain of who her enemy and who her friend was.
Her basic rule of thumb was to fight anyone who raised their sword toward her, but in the chaos she was certain that a few of the men she had killed were her own. Though she had no time to make certain, no time to mourn.
She was covered in blood, she knew that some of it was hers. Her sword arm felt heavy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to lift it. But she was not too wounded to fight. And she was not too weak to continue.
She could not always see Grey Wind, but she could hear him, growling as he tore through the men around her. The wolf was the only one she trusted to know friend from foe. She would never understand how he knew, but the animal knew. She had seen several men try to kill the wolf, but he was too fast, too fierce, too strong.
It was almost as if he was invincible.
Her uncle seemed invincible too, even with his golden hand. She had seen him on several occasions even throw the hand up in front of his face to block a swing and then, using that brief moment of surprise kill the man with his left hand.
He had asked her once if she would rather have someone whole lead her Queensguard. And now, in the middle of this battle, she couldn't think of anyone more whole than her uncle.
She heard someone yelling behind her and she started to turn, prepared to swing. "Down girl," she heard someone growl, a large hand falling heavy on her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the Hound as he shoved her down to the ground and swung his own large sword, not aiming for the man, but the horse. His sword cut through the horse, sending it tumbling to the ground as the large man grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her out of the way.
Jaime, who had yet to leave her side, was the one to pull her up, quickly taking a moment to turn to her and catch her face in his hands. "Are you alright?" he yelled at her over the noise around them. "Hey!" he yelled when she did not answer right away, when she could not even focus her gaze on him. Over his shoulder she watched as Grey Wind soared past them, launching himself at one of the Bolton men, his teeth barred. "Are you alright?" her uncle yelled again, shaking her shoulders a bit.
She brought her gaze to his face, seeking out and latching onto his green eyes. His face was covered with mud and blood, but the green and gold in his eyes still shone through. She nodded. "Are you?" she yelled back.
Jaime pulled her close, pressing a kiss against her forehead before he let go of her and turned back toward the battle. "Never better!" he called out over his shoulder.
Ramsay's arrows had made quick work of many of the horses, both his and theirs. The men on the ground had taken care of the rest. There were very few horses left, most men were now caught in hand to hand combat. Lenora looked around, her eyes searching for Jon.
Jaime seemed to understand what or who she was looking for. He nodded to their left, toward a crowded area, the center of the fight. "Last I saw him, he was over there," he told her.
She nodded, "Then we are too," she announced before she turned and ran forward, sword raised.
-.-.-.-.-
Jon
They were standing back to back. Jaime, Jon, and Lenora, each of them sure that their back was safe, each of them watching each other's fronts. It made them an easy target for Ramsay's men, all of the leaders in one spot, but they were each skilled, so far no one had broken them. And it was comforting, in the middle of the battle, to hear them behind him.
To their left there was a large pile of bodies, no one had stacked the bodies, but there they were all the same. Men were climbing the pile, killing each other and dying themselves, adding more and more death to the sack. No matter where he turned, all he saw was death. It was easiest to keep his eyes trained forward, to watch the space directly in front of him and take on anyone who entered it.
A Bolton man came running toward him, launching himself over Ghost to get to Jon. He stepped forward, breaking their line without realizing it. Lenora and Jaime did not close ranks behind him, they were vulnerable. He swung his sword up to meet the Bolton man's, the collision vibrating down his arms. The man was leaning too heavily forward, trying to use his weight to cause Jon to buckle. He took a step to the left, then another, his sword sliding out from underneath the man's as he stumbled forward.
He didn't turn back toward Jon, once he had righted himself he continued forward, sword raised, ready to attack Lenora or Jaime. Jon rushed him from behind, holding the hilt of his sword with both hands as he rammed it through the man's back, hilt deep. The enemy fell then, Jon falling on top of him as he tried to withdraw his sword. A moment later another body fell on top of him. And another. If he didn't get out soon he would be buried alive.
He struggled, still trying to pull his sword free when another body fell on top of him, this one was still alive. He grabbed at Jon, his hand wrapping around his throat as Jon tried to turn himself over to face his attacker.
He couldn't breath, and it wasn't simply the man with his hand around his throat. It was the bodies, the dead ones and the living ones that were piling on top of him, pressing and pushing. It was warm in this pile, and wet and muddy. The smell was horrible and the taste of the air even worse. He hated to think that this was how he would die. He had asked the Red Woman not to bring him back again, but he had thought that perhaps he would die for something. This, the press of bodies against him, the smell of shit and vomit. This wasn't for anything.
Perhaps even with that disappointment sitting heavy in his chest he would have given up, if it weren't for her. He could hear her, somewhere beyond the bodies around him, calling out for him. Jon! He had promised her that he would take care of her, that he would protect her. She shouldn't be alone now. With a growl he pushed the man off of him, freeing Longclaw and beginning to kick and punch and crawl his way out of the pile.
It seemed to take forever, he almost lost consciousness before his head broke through, gasping for air as he looked around wildly, searching for her. She and Bronn were fighting, together. Jaime Lannister was nowhere to be seen. Then, a gold hand dropped into Jon's sightline, he followed it, up a gold plated arm, to find the Lannister man grinning sarcastically down at him. "Good of you to join us," the man teased as Jon grabbed at his hand and Jaime pulled him to his feet.
He had often wondered how Jaime Lannister could make a joke of almost anything, but now, he was nothing but grateful. "Couldn't let you have all the fun without me," he joked in return as he continued to breathe deeply.
It was at that exact moment that everything seemed to still. He couldn't understand why until he heard a heavy set of footsteps behind him. He turned, looking up to see Wun Wun, the giant, standing behind them. He pointed past them, toward Winterfell.
While they had been distracted with Ramsay's first line, the bastard had sent his second line in. A line of foot soldiers, all of them carrying large Bolton shields and lances. They had encircled the battle, closing in on all sides, three men deep. They used the mountain of bodies as part of their barrier.
When they charged forward to meet Lenora they had abandoned their safe area with the trenches. They had played into Ramsay's trap just as Lenora had told Jon they would the night before. And Ramsay had executed a pince move, just as Jon had promised Tormund he wouldn't. They were surrounded.
For one long, silent moment the Bolton men stood still. And then, in unison they inserted their lances in between their shields and stepped forward. And then again. Two steps forwards, a pause and a jab. They were killing their men on the outside and pressing further in with each set of steps. Soon, Jon's men would be killing each other, trampling over each other to save themselves. Just as Lenora had said they would.
Jon turned, glancing at Jaime for a long moment before allowing his gaze to fall on Lenora. Silently telling the knight to grab her and run. The battle was lost, but if anyone could save Lenora it would be Jaime. She would not be pleased. She would be angry at Jon for the rest of her life for this, perhaps she would even hate him, but she would live.
Jaime stared at him for a moment before he nodded and turned toward Lenora, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the large mountain of bodies. It took her only a moment to realize that he meant to help her escape. "No!" she screamed at him, trying to pull back. Jaime did not let go.
Jon moved forward, his own hand falling to Lenora's shoulder. "Go, Nora!" he ordered her.
A roar pulled their gaze left, Karstark men were climbing over the mountain, attacking from the final side.
The men trapped in the circle were frantic, Bolton and Stark men alike. They turned away from the shields, all rushing toward the mountain of bodies, trampling over each other to get away.
Some still pausing to fight, most of them simply running.
He lost sight of her. He lost his grip on her shoulder.
They were separated.
And even if he had wanted to stay and fight in the center of Ramsay's trap, the men were pressing him forward. He could not stop moving.
-.-.-.-.-
Lenora
The horn blowing three times was the only thing that stopped the panicked rush of the men over the mountain of bodies. Even in the middle of the battle, both sides seemed to stop to see who the reinforcements were for.
An entire force of mounted riders, riding under the blue and white banners. The Vale. She was still uncertain of who they were for until she had managed to pull herself to the top of the mountain. They were circling Ramsay's men, cutting through them and yet not fighting once they reached the center. They were not there to help the Boltons. She turned, searching for Ramsay. He and Harald Karstark alone sat on the top of the hill on horseback. They had to know this battle was lost. She felt someone come to stand beside her and she turned it was Jon, his face was red and sticky with blood.
He turned to her, his dark eyes darting over her face to make certain that she was alright and then in unison they both turned back to watch as Ramsay and Harald turned and rode their horses back toward Winterfell.
Without speaking to her Jon threw himself over the mountain of bodies, tumbling down to the other side, followed quickly by Tormund and Wun Wun. "Stay here, Nora!" Jon ordered her before they started running after Ramsay and his men.
Lenora bristled at the command, she did not appreciate being ordered to stay. But a hand closed around her wrist and she turned to see Jaime standing behind her, his green eyes locked on Jon and the others as they ran. "Let him go, Len," Jaime whispered, "after what you told him last night, after everything he's seen. He needs this."
Lenora turned to watch them as they ran. She could understand what her uncle meant, she knew that this final battle for Winterfell belonged to Jon. But he could not have Ramsay, and if he did, she needed to be there to witness it. It would not feel real, she would never feel safe until she saw him executed with her own eyes.
"I need to see it," she told her uncle, turning briefly away from Jon to look at Jaime. "Don't you see that? I need to see it."
Jaime watched her for a long moment, his brow furrowed and then he nodded. "Then let me get you a horse, my lady."
...
It did not take them long to find a horse and to reach Winterfell. But Wun Wun had already broken the gate when they arrived. The archers on the wall, the ones who would have alerted Ramsay to their arrival had their backs turned, they were too busy watching something in the courtyard to be watching for new arrivals. All the same, Jaime had her dismount outside the gate and creep in.
"You suggested one on one combat, didn't you?" she heard Ramsay sneer as they neared the gate. She paused, all of her fear from the battle catching up to her at the sound of his voice. He was still alive. And her heart beating rapidly in her chest seemed to think he was still a threat. Jaime was there, his hands on both her shoulders, silently urging her to breathe. "I've reconsidered your offer," Ramsay continued. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."
For a moment Lenora could not understand why Ramsay sounded so sure of himself. But when she ducked under Jaime's hands and peeked through the gate she could see it. Jon held a sword, Ramsay a bow.
He was not slow this time as he nocked his arrow, he did not pause for dramatic effect. Jon had barely a moment to duck to the ground and pick up an abandoned shield before Ramsay loosed his arrow. It hit the shield.
Jon lowered the shield as he walked toward Ramsay. Ramsay loosed another arrow. Thunk, it embedded itself in the shield. The third as well. Ramsay no longer looked as sure of himself as he nocked his fourth arrow.
He never got to shoot it. Jon hit him twice with the shield and knocked him to the ground before he fell on top of him and started punching him in the face. Yelling the entire time.
Lenora had thought that she would feel better watching Jon kill Ramsay with his bare hands. She had thought that it would make her feel vindicated. That it would be enough. But it wasn't. She remembered that Jaime had once told her that killing a man, even an enemy never felt as good as he hoped, but that wasn't it. She felt hollow as she watched Jon punch Ramsay, quickly breaking the monster's teeth and bloodying his face. She did not feel bad, nor good, only hollow. And jealous that the man who had spent months torturing her would not die by her own hand.
Without noticing she had stepped away from Jaime and moved through the courtyard, coming to stand in front of Jon and Ramsay, as if hoping a better view would make her feel something.
"Jon," she called out softly.
His fist was pulled back, ready to punch again when he heard her voice. He was breathing heavily when he glanced up at her. For a moment his fist remained lifted, poised above Ramsay's head and then it dropped to his side as he pushed himself off the broken man. "You don't belong to me," he whispered as he moved toward Lenora, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand. His dark eyes never left her face, "You belong to her."
Lenora's gaze darted from Jon's face to Ramsay's body on the ground. He wasn't unconscious yet. His head was tilted back, his swollen blue eyes locked on her. "What do I do with him?" she whispered, her gaze on Jon again.
"Whatever will make you feel whole again," Jon told her before he stepped away from her, commanding everyone in the courtyard to give her space.
There were many things she could think of that might have made her feel whole. She was angry enough that she thought she might have had the strength to flay Ramsay herself, to peel the skin from his body a little at a time, keep him alive for days, only to make him suffer as he had made her suffer.
She could have fed him to his dogs as he had threatened to do to her so many times.
She could have used him for target practice as he had done to Theon.
She could have kept him alive for forty nights - whipping him, beating him, cutting him and starving him every day.
Her fingers twitched at the thought of it, she liked that. But then her gaze landed on his smirk. Even now, facing his death at her hand he was smirking. She clenched her hands into a fist, he thought he had won. She could have made him suffer as he had made her suffer, but that would take her one step closer to becoming a monster like him.
She couldn't do that.
Without looking up from his body she called out for Jaime. "Tie him up," she ordered. "And find me a horse. Load him onto the front of it. Tie him to the saddle."
"Len?" Jaime asked, not doing as she commanded. But it didn't matter, three of Tormund's Wildlings had already stepped forward to do as she asked.
"Grey Wind," she called over her shoulder, she knew the wolf was behind her, she could feel it. The animal was by her side in a moment. She dropped her hand on top of his head, his fur was sticky and matted. "We're going for a hunt," she promised the wolf.
Once a horse was saddled and Ramsay was tied to the saddle she climbed into the saddle behind him. The reverse image of the day that Ramsay had taken her on one of his hunts. Jaime was at her side, reaching for the reins of his own horse.
Lenora shook her head, "No, Uncle Jaime," she told him. "I need to do this alone.
...
They rode in silence for a mile or so into the Wolfs Wood before Lenora spoke. "It's a lovely day for a hunt, my lord," she told Ramsay, forcing a smile onto her lips as she echoed the words he had once spoke to her. "Wouldn't you say?"
He was quiet, though she had picked up on the change in his breath. He was conscious. So she continued. "There's nothing like it," she promised him as she reached behind her and unsheathed her knife. "Absolutely nothing. The dogs, the weapon in your hand, knowing that you are the only thing that stands between killing the beast and it living another day. The smell of blood in the air, the fear in the animal's eyes. The way the light leaves the eyes at the last moment as the dogs tear into its flesh."
"Is that how I will die, Lenora?" Ramsay asked her, still sneering in spite of their situation. "You'll have your wolf tear into my throat?" He shook his head as she used the knife to cut the rope that tied him to the saddle.
"No," she told him, keeping her voice light as she pushed him out of the saddle and sent him falling to the ground. "That would be too easy. Grey Wind won't go for your throat until he has torn every limb from your body. Until you are screaming in pain and begging every God imaginable for assistance. Then he'll take out your eyes, perhaps your tongue once he's sick of hearing your screams. Only then will he go for your throat."
Ramsay rolled onto his back, laughing, "You can't kill me, Nora," he told her. "I'm a part of you now."
Lenora stared down at him for a moment before she shook her head. "Your words will disappear," she told him. "Your House will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear. You were born nothing but a bastard and you will die nothing but a bastard. And if what you say is true, and you are a part of me now, you are the part of me that will enjoy every single one of your screams."
She glanced at Grey Wind, and nodded silently, the wolf had been patient long enough.
And as the wolf moved in on Ramsay, his teeth barred and Ramsay screaming, Lenora smiled.
Author's Note:
There we are. BotB and Ramsay Bolton's death all in one chapter. What did you think? Did you love it? Hate it? Were you surprised by who Ramsay used as bait? I've been waiting to hit you guys with that monkey wrench since this story began. And I'm terrible at keeping secrets so I'm quite proud of myself for that.
Though I am a bit sad and heartbroken because I love Theon. Adore him really and honestly would have picked him over Rickon any day (unpopular opinion, I know) but this is where the story led me. And I could not ignore it.
Anyway. Thank you so much for stopping by and reading. Thank you for adding this story to your favorites lists, your alerts lists, your communities. And most of all, thank you for reviewing. Your reviews give me life during my work weeks and encourage me to not sleep my weeks off away because I know you are waiting for updates.
You keep this story going.
So really, thank you.
Now, to my wonderful friends who reviewed the last chapter:
dvali: Thank you so much for your kind words, my new friend! I'm glad that Lenora has grown on you and I can personally guarantee that her reunion with Robb will, in fact, be epic. You are correct, I do plan on writing a Jon/OC story and I'm glad that you're looking forward to it. As for this story, no there will be no Jon/Dany pairing, no Dany at all actually, not a huge fan of her.
Season seven wasn't terrible, my biggest complaint was that it felt rushed. They had a lot to fit in and not long to do it which I understand, but I would argue that they should have prolonged the season rather than rushed to make it all fit.
Kathiena: Aww! Thank you so much! I'm glad that you enjoy this story so much! And I hope that you do get back to whatever story you dropped to read these updates! Thank you so much for your review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!
bellaphant: The next chapter was, in fact, Battle of the Bastards. I hope it was everything you hoped for (and perhaps even a bit more!)
Guest (1): Thank you! I'm glad that you're enjoying this story so much and I hope that you continue to do so! I try really hard to make sure that it is a well-written story and I'm glad that you guys think so. As for the long-awaited reunion? We're looking at about five more chapters before Robb and Lenora find each other again. I promise it will be worth the wait!
StarkTeller: Lord Glover is an asshole. And he will quickly learn the error of his ways. The reason that he blamed Lenora is because it is easier to blame her than anyone else. And if you think about it, Glover isn't stupid. He knows that Frey and Bolton would not have betrayed Robb unless they were guaranteed to get something out of the deal. The only person in the Seven Kingdoms capable of guaranteeing that would have been Tywin Lannister. So, from a northman's black and white perspective, perhaps if Robb had not married Lenora, Tywin Lannister might not have been in such a hurry to make an alliance with Frey and Bolton.
Reylo's a pretty good ship. I'm not a huge Star Wars fan (Trekkie over here) but I have seen all the movies, and I will admit, I felt some major Reylo vibes during the last one.
We get to see Lyanna and Arya interact in the next chapter and I'm pretty excited about it. They don't do anything remarkably spectacular, but I think they're both fantastic and I'm really mad that they haven't met on the show yet, so once again I'm using this story to fix the short comings of the show.
Happy birthday, birthday request granted! I hope you enjoyed it!
darkwolf76: Don't worry that you missed chapter 74! You found it! And chapter 75 for your trouble! And playing catch up isn't always a bad thing! It means you have to wait less time between updates! So that's good! Doing a little happy dance after reading that your eyes watered a bit at Jon's reunion with Arya, That's what it was supposed to do!
I know, some of Lenora's conversation with Jon was recycled. I try to put my own spin on it, but there are certain lines from the series that I feel like I have to put in. They're the ones that while I was watching got my creative juices flowing and made me want to continue writing this story (even if in this case, they were given to another character). I try my hardest when I do that to really get into the characters head and thoughts so that even if you are reading lines you've already heard, you're seeing some insight that I got from the show or book into the characters head.
I'm glad that you enjoyed Lenora's line It's time to fight my own battles, that line has been a long time coming.
As for how I crank out such "great chapters so quickly"? The truth is I don't. This chapter, for instance took me a week and a half to write (three weeks ago). I like to be ahead of where you guys are and don't write each chapter all in one sitting. In fact, my original document for this story has bits and pieces of multiple chapters all written and ready to be connected. My secret? Before I published this story I went through and made a very detailed outline. It includes a character interview with Lenora so that I could get to know her and a break down of all eighty-four chapters. Each chapter description is broken up with which POVs I will use, what events they will cover, and any quotes I want to use. That way as I skip around, writing parts of chapters, I know what I want to put in. And somehow, it all seems to work out. Which is good.
I'm glad you're enjoying Arya and Jaime. I have always wanted them to become friends so this story kind of fulfilled that item on my wish list and I am glad everyone else likes them too.
No Brienne in BotB, I really wanted to put her in there, especially since she will most definitely be joining Lenora's Queensguard, but every time I tried, Brienne stopped me. She's still got to keep her word to Catelyn, to see the girls safely home to Winterfell. So during the battle, it wouldn't be true to her to let her fight and leave Sansa and Arya unprotected.
So we finally know how Ramsay died, direwolf attack. Flaying, as briefly discussed in this chapter would not have been Len's style, though after the next chapter (which I have already written) she may regret that (input foreboding music here).
The Three Stoogies: Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed this one too!
MaiarofThedas: Haha, Robb was lost for a while. It was about time for him to get back in the game. I'm glad that you enjoyed it! And I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well!
Yes, screw Glover for calling her Lannister, she's most definitely not one. And Jaime and Tyrion will most definitely be redeeming that name.
Tyrion and Gendry and Robb are kind of my new favorite group. I like the idea of them traveling throughout Westeros together. As for Tyrion putting her on the throne. Perhaps that will include Robb as well, you will have to wait and see. (Can't give all of my secret plans away, much as I'd love for you guys to all know exactly what I have planned!)
celinesLineC-Line: Thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope that you enjoyed my take on Battle of the Bastards. Some things stayed the same because it is how it would have played out no matter what, but one thing that definitely changed was Theon. As much as killing Rickon would have played with Jon's mind, Ramsay had another play in this one. Lenora had taunted him the day before and he knew that Theon would perhaps hurt her more than Rickon would. And by hurting her, he would hurt Jon. Killed two birds with one stone (er... arrow) with that one.
JanaOliver: Your new update delivered as quickly as humanly possible! Did you enjoy it? I was very happy to hear that the last chapter did not disappoint, and have my fingers crossed that this one did not either! No Robb and Lenora in this chapter, but soon. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all of that (or, you know, Lenora has some ass kicking she needs to do on her own still).
RHatch89: Thank you! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as well!
LunaEvanna Longbottom: Rickon spared. (For now). No promises though. I, like GRRM use murder and grizzly deaths as plot devices. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter all the same though!
purple-pygmy-puff16: I'm so glad that you loved it! I hope you loved this chapter just as much! Thank you so much for your review!
Guest1995: No one died in the last one, I saved that up for this chapter. Two major deaths, one sad and one that I cackled my way through writing. I hope you enjoyed it!
And I am so glad that you are enjoying the new harder Lenora. If she was going to suffer under Ramsay, she was going to come out stronger for it and we're just starting to see that now. (As for Casterly, yes, she will get him back).
I love your pun! And while Jaime would definitely have wanted to have a hand (haha!) in Ramsay's death, especially after he heard Lenora's conversation with Jon in this chapter, he also understands that Lenora needs to start rescuing herself. He can guide her and help her, but there are some things that she needs to do alone. Something that both he and Jon realized in this chapter.
Yes. Ten chapters left in the whole story. Seems so short now, doesn't it?
As for Theon and Rickon, we know what happened to one of them. You'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out what happened to the other.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
ThelonewolfNT: You do, and according to Lenora it's time for some people to get what they deserve. You'll see a lot more of that coming up.
RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond: I'm glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! I had written the part where Lenora traced the scar she gave Ramsay before I had even written the chapter where she gave him the damn thing. So it's fantastic to see so many of you enjoying that tiny detail. Is that chapter still your favorite chapter? Because I'm not going to lie, I really like this one.
Vyb: Thank you so much for your review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
AnnaB: I love reading your reviews! You pick up on so much and I am so happy to read how much you enjoy this story. So thank you! And I am even happier that you picked up on how the Stark girls both admire Lenora for different reasons. With Lenora in the story both girls are very different from their show counterparts, Arya has not gone to Braavos and Sansa has not needed to survive nearly as much, but it's still for those very reasons that each girl respect and admire Lenora and I'm happy that you picked up on it.
Jaime would not be as supportive of Jon taking his home back if it weren't for Lenora. He's quickly learning that Lenora is now standing up for herself and that she will do what she wants. He will support Jon for as long as Lenora supports Jon. Though, I don't think minds doing the right thing for once either.
I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as much as previous ones and that it was not too detailed or gruesome!
Maddy: Everyone loved that part with the scar so much and I'm so glad about that! I put it in there, as like a small detail hoping that some of you might notice it, but so far almost everyone has. It makes me smile!
I hope that you enjoyed this chapter even though Robb still has not shown up yet. We've got another chapter or so before he gets to Winterfell. But don't worry, he will still manage to redeem himself.
What did you think of the battle? And Ramsay's death? Everything you hoped it would be? (I hope so!)
Gamemaster77: Aww! So glad I got your last week off to a good start! I hope that this chapter will do the same whenever you read it! And best GoT fanfiction on this site? You are too kind! (Not that I mind it, thank you!)
I'm so glad that all of you are enjoying Arya and Jaime together. I get a kick out of them every time I write about them. And she is a prime candidate for Queensguard once she gets older. I appreciate that the story has led her to this point where she could stay at Winterfell, or she could go south to serve Lenora and both paths would be true to who she is. Arya has always been one of my favorites and I would hate for her to be stuck anywhere, you know? As for her dying, that will not happen. I could not do that to myself, let alone to you guys.
No one else has mentioned Sansa and Lenora's conversation about Cersei which makes me sad, because love her or hate her that woman is a central part of not only this story, but both girls' lives. She knows how to play the game and whether purposefully (in Lenora's case) or inadvertently (in Sansa's case) she taught them both. Depending on the conversation and who makes the comparison, it could be a huge compliment to be compared to her, something that both Sansa and Lenora are both aware of.
Haha! "Lord Glover's only redeemable quality was that in the show he gave the best "the King in the North!" shout!" I adore that. But don't be too hard on Glover, he lost his home to the Ironborn and it was the Bolton's that gave it back. He didn't have to be such a cunt, but I can't blame him for not siding with them. Plus, I needed him a plot device, Lenora needed someone to cut her teeth on before the battle.
Ugh! I was so mad when I read your review! I thought I had done so well at hiding my intentions of Ramsay using Theon to taunt Lenora before the battle instead of Rickon/Jon. And there you go, twelve days before I post this chapter putting it in your review! I thought I was going to surprise everyone, and you guessed it! But, I hope that it was an enjoyable chapter anyway!
That's all I've got for now, friends! Thank you so much for stopping by!
Until next time,
Chloe Jane.