At Winterfell…
Sansa emerged from her guest room in Winterfell; already the Wolf Queen learned she was pregnant with her third child… but any chance at celebrating had to be put on hold when she heard a rather loud ruckus emanating from beyond the castle walls. Lucius, Brienne and Olyvar accompanied Sansa to the source of the noise, where she found representatives from the Northern houses engaged in a heated argument with the Free Folk, who have marched all the way down from the Wall.
"Invaders!" one Northmen yelled, wielding a sword.
"Wildling scum!" another shouted.
One of the Free Folk stepped forward. "Keep your pointy toys of yours to yourself, southerner!" she yelled.
Greatjon Umber nearly towered over all in attendance, second only to Wun Wun. "This is Stark territory, wildling invaders!" he bellowed. "Turn around and go back where you came from right now or I'll cut you up into tiny little pieces!"
"We didn't invade! We were invited," Tormund shouted.
"Not by me!" Robett Glover said.
"Not by any of us," protested Cerwyn.
Robb found himself struggling to be the mediator. "How did 17,000 wildlings even get through the Wall?" he pressed. "On who's authority did the Night's Watch permit this debacle to happen?"
"I made the call, Robb," Jon stepped forward from the crowd.
"Jon?"
The Young Wolf couldn't believe his eyes; he hadn't seen his bastard half-brother for almost six years since Jon left Winterfell to join the Night's Watch with their uncle Benjen. Both had grown in their own right, though that didn't stop whatever sense of emotion they had been feeling for the first time since they went their separate ways and immediately embraced one another.
"Next time I see you, you'll be all in black."
"It was always my color."
"Farewell, Snow."
"And you, Stark."
Robb and Jon were overwhelmed; both were visibly happy to see each other again. Sansa noticed and rushes out to see them; her trueborn and baseborn brothers. Rickon charged from the crowd, pushing his way past the Northern lords and clutched Jon's leg. Both the Stark children exclaimed how surprised they were at seeing each other again—even their direwolves Grey Wind, Shaggydog and Ghost barked and whined at the reunion.
"Your Grace, is that you're…?" Olyvar asked.
Sansa nodded. "My half-brother, Jon Snow," she confirmed.
The Northern lords noticed their Queen's presence and stood aside, acknowledging her presence. Jon slowly spins around until he sees Sansa. Both stare at each other before embracing.
"You've changed last time we saw you," she noticed.
"Well, you're still taller than me," Jon remarked.
"Still spent a lot of time thinking about what an ass I was to you. Sounds childish, I know."
"We were all children once."
"I was awful, just admit it," Sansa pressed.
"You were occasionally awful," Jon chuckled. "I'm sure I couldn't have been great fun. Always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played."
"Can you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive."
"Jon, forgive me."
"All right. All right, I forgive you."
"Remember the time we built a great mountain of snow on top a gate?" Robb reminisced. "Pushed it off on whoever passed us by."
"Fat Tom chased us all around the yard."
The Starks were enjoying their family reunion until the Greatjon again bellowed loudly. "Touching as your reunion might be, but we still got a problem here," he pointed towards the Free Folk. "For thousands of years, the wildlings have been harassing us and for thousands of years House Umber always had to drive them back."
"We were permitted to come here," emerged Mance Rayder. "Ned Stark's bastard showed himself to be just as honorable. An intelligent sense of honor; yet adapted his mindset in the face of new circumstances in a rapidly changing world. He's seen the things the Free Folk have seen after spending much time in our company."
Robb looked at Jon. "Care to explain?" he asked seriously.
"I was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Robb. It was my decision to make," he explained. "
"But deserting the Night's Watch—"
"They murdered me, Robb! My own brothers shoved their knives in my heart! I couldn't stay at Castle Black, not after what they did to me." Jon shook his head. "I'm tired of fighting. It's all I've ever done since I left home. I've killed brothers of the Night's Watch, I've killed wildlings, I've killed men that I admire, I hanged a boy younger than Bran! I fought and I lost. I did what I thought was right and they killed me for it."
Robb was stunned at Jon's sudden outburst. He hadn't seen this side of him before, neither did Sansa or Rickon.
"But you're still here, Lord Commander," the youngest Stark pointed out.
Jon shook his head. "Rickon, I'm not the Lord Commander anymore. My watch has ended."
Sansa hummed quietly and gave a small frown; Jon's outburst reminded her of the time when Daveth was so very sick it cost him his life. Despite her efforts, she couldn't save him. But when the mysterious red priestess Varaeleah intervened—whatever magic she used—brought her husband back from the land of the dead. To this day, Sansa couldn't explain how it should've been possible—but suspected Jon's fate and Daveth's fate were somehow linked to each other.
Before either Robb or any of the Northern lords could respond, Ser Rodrik Cassel moves his way towards the front of the gathering with a letter partly crumpled into his hand. The old knight's face was stern as it was serious.
"Robb! Lord Stark," he corrected himself. "A messenger raven just came in from the Dreadfort."
Sansa and Robb were serious. "Show me," the Young Wolf insisted.
As Rodrik handed the paper over to Robb, Sansa and Jon all leaned over their brother's shoulder to read the content. The wax seal was black and red depicting the sigil of House Bolton, which the Young Wolf breaks before opening the scroll.
"'To the Young Wolf Robb Stark'," he reads. "'Because of your gross incompetence and negligence at ruling the North, the many lords you have angered to get your way, it has come to my attention that the traitor and bastard Jon Snow allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. By ignoring this you have betrayed your own kind. You have betrayed your house. You have betrayed the North. And you had the audacity to send soldiers into my keep to murder my father, Lord Roose Bolton, his wife Walda and her newborn son. Due to the list of crimes House Stark has committed, it's time for new blood to rule the North. The Dreadfort is mine, Stark. Come and see. The men you sent into my halls have been flayed living. Come and see.'"
Sansa, along with the gathered Northern lords and wildlings, slowly felt themselves growing increasingly offended and appalled when Robb continued reading the letter. The Wolf Queen still had not forgotten what Theon told her about what Ramsay Snow did to her best childhood friend Jeyne; she will never forgive him for that.
"'What's more, you have stolen my bride from me. Return her to me or I will ride to your keep and slaughter every Stark man, woman and babe living under your protection as well as every single wildling your bastard brother let loose into our lands. You will watch as I skin them living. You—'"
Sansa maintained her composure, but frowned deeply as Robb read on. This man, this monster – had the audacity to threaten her family and her home? Emotionless, she took the opportunity and snatched up the letter from Robb's hands and read it out loud.
"'You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping both your foreign whore of a wife and your royal sister'," she read. "'You will watch as my dogs devour both your brat and all three of your brothers. Then I will spoon your eyes out from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. When the day is done, House Stark will disappear from the history books. No one will mourn you; no one will even mention you. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and the Red King.'"
The Wolf Queen watched as the Northern lords and wildlings alike shout in anger and outrage; demanding that blood be spilled, shouts of 'treason' and 'traitor' being hurled at the bastard Ramsay Snow. Sansa dropped the letter, looking at her brothers – a fierce, determined look in her eyes pierced them.
"That… piece of shit… murdered Walda?" Olyvar seethed with fury at the realization, "He killed my niece?! OH, THAT SON OF A BITCH! I'M GONNA KILL THAT BASTARD! I'LL DRIVE A SWORD THROUGH THAT BASTARD'S EVIL FACE!"
"Olyvar, calm yourself!" Lucius scolded. "You march in there acting like that, you'll end up doing exactly what Ramsay wants you to do."
"I—!"
"That's enough, Ser Olyvar. Stand down," Sansa called out.
Taking a few moments to breathe in and out, Olyvar reluctantly stormed off into Winterfell to calm himself down. Sansa knew that it became just as personal for him as it was for the rest of her family, but the Wolf Queen understood that they had to play it smart if they were to ever come out of this and enforce the King's Justice.
"Ramsay killed his own father and declaring himself a Bolton," she said. An angry frown formed on Sansa's face. "Robb, how many men do you believe he has at his disposal?"
Her brother was equally angry. "The Dreadfort should muster around 5,000 infantry and over 2,000 cavalry. House Karstark and the Smalljon contributed 1,000 troops."
"The Karstarks sided with our enemy of their own volition, they can hang," Sansa denounced them.
The Greatjon huffed in agreement, holding up his left hand – revealing three missing fingers. "That bastard boy of mine betrayed my house and fled Last Hearth as a turncoat! I denounce Smalljon and no longer consider him an Umber."
Robb turned to his bannermen. He knew they'd fight for him again, but truth be told, he knew they were tired of fighting and wanted to gather the crops now that winter is here. "Lord Umber, how many of your men can still fight?" he asked.
"I've got 500 marauders," the Greatjon informed him.
"House Glover can muster 3,500 men," Robett chimed in.
"House Mazin offers 143 troops."
"Hornwood only has 200 to spare."
"My son will command 2,500 Manderly cavalry."
Dacey stepped forward with her sisters. "House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for 1,000 years and will lend 62 men," she said.
"62?" asked Jon.
"We're not a large house, but we're a proud one," Lyanna explained with a fiery tone. "And every man from Bear Island fights with the strength of 10 mainlanders."
Lucius chuckled. "Well, if they're half as ferocious as their Mormont ladies then Ramsay Snow is doomed from the start."
Dacey, Alyanne and Lyanna smile and nod in agreement. "Clearly not a lot of men can handle a Mormont woman," Alyanne remarked proudly. "We'll show the bastard Ramsay what the men and women of Bear Island are capable of."
Jon turned to Mance. "How many Free Folk can fight?"
"The ones that can march and fight? 12,000 warriors, not to mention Wun Wun," the former King-Beyond-the-Wall said. "The rest are children and old people. They'll be kept furthest away from the battle when it does come."
Sansa and Robb nodded.
"Then in addition to our own, together we'll have almost 34,000 troops," Ser Rodrik theorized. "That alone should be more than enough to put down the upstart Ramsay."
"So long as we ourselves don't become too overconfident," Ser Lucius mentioned. "In a war, the side with the greater numbers wins nine times out of ten. But in a real war, victory in battle is not always one through superior numbers. Take a look at Blackwater Bay for instance. Some of you fought alongside us that day. We held out for as long as we could before reinforcements arrived. So we must not let Ramsay Snow be that one out of 10. Be mindful of tactical strategies and cruel but effective traps, my lords. They could do a lot more harm than his soldiers."
"Then it's best we mobilize our soldiers as fast as possible."
A Stark messenger soon arrived towards the center. "Pardon me, Lord Stark," he apologized. "But Ramsay's close by demanding a parley."
"He's here already?" Sansa said surprised.
Robb readied himself and called for his horse. Once mounting, the Young Wolf prepped to leave when he noticed Jon and Sansa joining him with Brienne and Lucius and a dozen Stark loyalists.
"Sansa, you don't have to come with me if you don't want to," he suggested.
Sansa shook her head no. "I'll be kept at a safe distance when the battle actually starts, Robb, don't you worry about me. But Ramsay hurt my friend Jeyne terribly. I'll never forgive him for that. So I only have one request for you. All of you."
"And that is?"
The Wolf Queen sat tall on her horse, her voice firm and attentive. "Ramsay Snow abducted and brutalized one of our own, a cherished friend whom I consider a sister. He skinned our own people alive for his sick, twisted amusement; and thereafter had the nerve to raise his banners in rebellion and declare himself a King—titles that do not belong to him. So long as Ramsay lives, the North will never be safe." She turned to face her fellow Northmen. "When the time for battle comes, we will fight as one. The North is at its strongest when we are united. The North and its people are family. In the winter, we protect and look after one another. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. In the name of King Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to summon your banners and ready yourselves for the coming battle. Should we win the day, I ask that you seize Ramsay Snow to await the King's justice."
The Northern lords hollered in agreement and immediately moved to gather their forces; Robb and Jon both observed Sansa closely, noticing how far she's come since moving south to become Queen. Ser Lucius and Brienne mounted their horses and strode out with Sansa, Robb and a few Stark-loyalist delegates.
Nearby, a hooded individual observed from a distance—polishing her longsword Dawn with a wet stone.
"So it will come to this," she said. "I must prepare for battle then."
Beyond the outskirts…
Sansa sat mounted atop a gray palfrey beside Robb, Jon, the Greatjon, Mance, Tormund, Olyvar, Brienne, Podrik, Lucius and the Mormont sisters Dacey and Lyanna with several Stark bannermen sitting on horseback behind them. All of them were waiting. It was a risky move for the Wolf Queen herself, but even she knew that no one is to attack the other during a parley—though Sansa had carefully planned her options beforehand. After a few minutes of waiting, they notice a group of Bolton soldiers approaching on horseback behind Ramsay, Harald and Smalljon.
"You don't have to be here," Robb said to his sister.
"Yes, I do," Sansa reiterates her stance.
Ramsay wickedly gave a vile grin. "Ah, so you're Queen Sansa Stark. Wonderful! It seems the rumors about you weren't entirely exaggerated. You are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms," he turned to Robb. "Now, dismount and step down before me. Admit your shortcomings and surrender your army, your claim to Winterfell and your rights to all the North to the Red Kings of the Dreadfort." He turned to Jon. "In return, I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch," he turned to the gathering lords. "I will pardon your lords for turning their backs on their own kin."
Sansa felt her skin crawl with disgust. Lucius and Brienne all rode to their Queen's side in a defensive stance, readying themselves for anything.
'Turns your eyes elsewhere, cur,' Brienne thought viciously.
Grey Wind, Shaggydog and Ghost growled and snarled angrily at the Bolton bastard as he continued issuing more ultimatums; Robb and Jon continued staring at Ramsay.
"Come, Young Wolf. Come, bastard," he continued. "Why lead those pour souls into senseless slaughter? There's no need for a battle. Get off your horses and kneel. I'm a man of mercy."
"'Mercy'? Like you were 'merciful' to my men? To Jeyne Poole, the daughter of our father's steward?" Robb spat back. "Don't kid yourself thinking yourself in the right, bastard. You're not even a Bolton, just a Snow."
"We know all about you, Snow," Olyvar suggested. "I might be of the North, but even Northmen hasn't forgotten that stunt you pulled back at Winterfell. We, on the other hand, still haven't forgotten nor forgiven how you sent your lackey Locke to try to kill the King, bastard."
Ramsay grew angry at being again reminded of his baseborn origins; feeling himself insulted at not being given the respect he felt he deserves. Ramsay considers himself a true Bolton despite his birth and still remains highly resentful of his bastardy. There was a tone in their voices Ramsay did not like, no more than he liked being unable to escape the unfortunate truth.
Jon stepped forward. "There's no need for a battle," he suggested. "Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us. Let's end this the old way. One-on-one combat."
Ramsay chuckled. "I keep hearing stories about you, bastard," he pointed at him. "The way people in the North talk about Jon Snow, one of the greatest swordsmen who ever walked." He turned to Robb. "And of course everyone knows about the legend of Robb Stark, the Young Wolf; how he wins every single battle he's ever fought in, how he can't be killed. Oh, let's not forget the stories of him riding into battle on the back of a giant direwolf or turn into one. Ahoooo~!" he laughs mocking the howling of a wolf.
The Starks did not appreciate snide jabs or the mockery of one of their own flesh and blood from those they deem a threat.
"Maybe you are that good like the rumors suggest you are, maybe not," he continued. "I don't know if I'd beat you conventionally. But your adherence to honor and noble nature are what hold you back. Easy to taunt, easy to trick. They are your biggest weaknesses. House Bolton has none of these things. We don't care about appearing noble or honorable nor do we care about the rules of decency. Sure, you have the larger army – there are other ways to win a battle."
"Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you won't fight for them?" Jon rebuked him.
The humor left Ramsay's face before recomposing himself, waving a finger at him. "Oooh, he's good. He's very good." He says turning to Robb. "Tell me, will you let your house die because you're too proud to back down?"
"Who says this has anything to do with pride?" Sansa countered. "The North who remembers who united it even if some don't. The North remembers who defended it and the North remembers who wrong us. Torture, rape, murder… the North has no place for people like you, not after what you've done to Jeyne."
"Ooh, did I hurt your friend's precious little feelings?" he mocked. "Now, if you want to—"
Sansa abruptly cut him off. "You're going to die tomorrow, Snow. Sleep well," she says with such conviction, such certainty, that even Ramsay himself is momentarily silenced.
"Just you wait because I'm gonna take your head myself, you rat-fuck son of a bitch," Olyvar hissed.
And like that, Sansa turns her horse and galloped away with Lucius, Brienne and Olyvar in tow behind her. Robb and Jon both stared directly at Ramsay, the Smalljon and Harald; the air filled with overwhelming intensity at being face-to-face with each other.
"Hah-hah, she's a fine woman – your sister," Ramsay remarked. "I look forward to having her in my bed when the day is done."
That was it. Robb was done. "You're going to wish you never said that, Snow," he warned threateningly. "We will fight, but you will die. Winter is coming for all of you."
Grey Wind, Shaggydog and Ghost growled and snapped their jaws shut before turning around with Robb, Jon and the other Stark loyalists back to Winterfell. This was it; the gloves were off. The North would fight another battle, but on their own turf.
Back on the ride to Winterfell, Lucius and Olyvar spoke with one another about strategy.
"If he was smart, he'd stay inside the walls of the Dreadfort and wait us out," Olyvar said.
Lucius shook his head. "Even a sane man knows if the other Northern houses sense weakness on his part, they'll have nothing to fear from him. But still we mustn't let our guard down for a split second and again be mindful of whatever traps he has in store. Fear is his power."
"It's not his men that worry me," Tormund added. "It's his horses. I know what mounted knights can do to us. Stannis cut through us like piss through snow."
"Then we'll dig trenches all along our flanks so Ramsay's cavalry won't hit us from the sides."
"Good."
Mance chimed in. "It's crucial that we let him charge at us. If we let him buckle our center, he'll give chase. Then we'll have him surrounded on three sides."
Brienne noticed Sansa unveiling a rolled piece of paper. "Your Grace?" she asked.
"So you've all met the enemy and drawn up your battle plans in a short span of time," Sansa observed. "Olyvar, you mentioned Ramsay isn't the one who falls into traps but lays them? He's done this before during the Second Greyjoy Rebellion?"
"Yes, Your Grace," he nodded. "He's good at playing with people's minds. I don't know your brothers that well, but I believe Ramsay will want to make Lord Stark and Jon to make a mistake. That alone will give him an opportunity, one that could decide the outcome."
"Then I'll need you and Ser Lucius to go with my brothers. Make sure they don't do anything stupid."
Lucius and Olyvar looked at each other and nodded. "We understand, Your Grace," they acknowledge.
Brienne rode alongside Sansa with Pod. "Your Grace, I don't like leaving you alone at Winterfell. Should the fighting ever reach us, I'll protect you. We all will."
Sansa nodded. "I understand. And thank you, Brienne. All of you." She said calmly. 'Now… let's do what needs to be done, and correct my ancestor's mistake.'
Chapter End
Author's Note: Well guys, the stage is set for a new Battle of the Bastards—only this time Robb Stark and Jon Snow will be participating in the battle. As both armies will be soon set to clash, will the battle end up in a conventional warfare or gruella–style hit-and-run tactics? You guys know the mindsets of both the Starks and Boltons, so you can possibly decide which side ends up taking a beating from the other. A lot of Stark favorites have been following me closely but take a closer look at the amount of Northern houses who remain loyal and committed to the Stark cause.
And also, you NEVER EVER do what Ramsay Snow just did: threaten to take Sansa as a prize in front of her two older brothers. Especially not in front of Robb because that to him is an automatic death sentence. Big brother is fiercely protective of his sister.
Stay tuned for more updates and keep a close watch out for the new Battle of the Bastards. Thoughts? Let me know.
AvaStanley: Oh your story's so nice. keep updating
Riverdog: Nice chapter.
Im guessing Sansa will secretly contact Stannis to help them out. So instead of the Knights of the Vale helping the North it will be Stannis.
Cant wait for the next chapter!
Guest #1: Jon could be in a coma, and have a talk with four people Torrhen, Ned Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. They encourage him to live, rule the south and be not the perfect king but a good man. Kind of like of Harry talked to his parents, Sirius and Remus before heading to face his supposed death sentence against Voldemort.
Sorry mistook you for another story.
C.E.W: Ramsay might discover the secret entrances to Winterfell, and he and a team of men will try to sneak into Winterfell to kill the Stark family and take one Stark daughter hostage. Hopefully Stannis, Jon Snow and Stannis' army arrive in time to help.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
mpowers045: Let the Battle Begin!
GuildMaster: Absolutely love this story, it's the GOT I've always wanted. Love how you've played everything out so far and the changes to the OG story are awesome. Love this chapter too, can't wait to see how the Stark boys deal with Ramsey now that they've got some cool heads along with them. I don't expect a poor decision like in the battle of the bastards, of course rickon isn't a prisoner so I guess we'll see what happens. Can't wait
mcnexusbros: I hope you set Davey and Jon up together
The Last Kenpachi: Ramsay might as well just wear a sign that screams PLEASE KILL ME, I'M TRASH! Sick freak.
Hear My Fury: Looks like it will be a different BoB than the show. Ramsay is outnumbered heavily, he has no hostage like Rickon. At this point all they have to do is wait for him to foolishly charge. Plus I'd like for Ramsay to get a Stannis moment from the show when he sees the cavalry and he's outnumbered and the men start to flee except he tries to fight them but ends getting his ass handed to him.
Oi Teme: With their army and Robb is good at this tactic sh*t this shouldn't even be a battle there's also no scenario where Jon will pull another Leeroy Jenkins in the battle field.