At the battlefield…
The Stark and Bolton forces continue littering the snowy fields with more piles of bodies; as the Hornwood forests continued burning, the snowstorm winds began steadily dying down. The winds were not blowing as fiercely as they once were, finally allowing the Starks to gain greater visibility. But Robb and Jon still mustered every fiber of their being to dodge, weave and survive the chaos surrounding them as panicked horses careen from every angle and barrage of arrows fell from the sky. Grey Wind, Shaggydog and Ghost continue lunging through the battlefield taking down as many Bolton soldiers as they could.
From out of nowhere four Bolton soldiers run at them. Robb and Jon make short work of them before another frenzied soldier, only for them to be picked off by Theon's arrows; Ser Lucius and Olyvar stand shoulder-to-shoulder fending off waves of Bolton soldiers.
"There's no end to them!" Olyvar exclaimed.
Ser Lucius bashed one with his mace. "The fire attack, the storm, Ramsay's archers on the vantage point… That bastard came prepared."
Through the smoke from the fires Lucius swings at the men trying to kill him. Takes a hit, kills the man who landed it and uses another as a human shield before tossing him to the ground. The Old Bull turns to see a Bolton infantryman lunging at him and readies for the inevitable impact, but someone jumps in front of him and thrusts forward sword in hand—driving their blade through the Bolton's neck.
Lucius recognized the flowing long dark hair and the pommel of the sword and the pale as milkglass metalwork.
"You," he acknowledged.
Ariyana herself had arrived to the battlefield wielding two swords and intercepted the Bolton soldier bound for Lucius. "I swore I'd make amends, Ser Lucius, and I intend to make up for the mistakes I made," she said.
"We'll worry about that later, child. More inbound!"
Redirecting her attention towards the fight, the Sword of the Morning danced and maneuvered through waves of Bolton soldiers. Theon raised his bow and took aim, pulling back on the bowstring and released, sending one of his arrows soaring through the air with such velocity and hit a Bolton soldier in the eye. He drew another arrow and pulled back and released again. Without a doubt, when it comes to archery Theon Greyjoy was an expert marksman.
Tormund and Mance each engage at Bolton infantry at the battle line and pressed their advantage, swinging hard once, twice, three times before finally running them through. Wun Wun swats a mounted Bolton and his horse out of the way, and is quickly followed by Free Folk hunters, shooting arrows as they keep a firm footing on the snowy hillside.
Ramsay watches as the Stark forces adapting to their situation and decided to begin the next phase. He turns to Smalljon and gives him his approval.
"It's time. Go," he said.
'About fucking time,' Smalljon grins, eager and yearning to join the fray. He turns to his infantry. "Who owns the North?" he calls out.
"We do!" his men answer.
"I can't hear you! Who owns the North?"
"We do!"
"Show me!"
With that, Smalljon raises his sword in the air and turns running towards the battlefield leading by example. The infantry howls and follows after him. Robb swings his sword and slices through a Bolton's throat before noticing the Smalljon's rush. The Young Wolf turns to Greatjon.
"Lord Umber," he calls out. "Take most of our men and retreat deep into the woods! I'll have a smaller contingent make the enemy chase us!"
The Greatjon drove his blade deep into a Bolton soldier's chest cavity and withdrew it to look back at the Young Wolf. He grinned as he realized what the Stark lord was up to and loudly bellowed at his marauders.
"Fall back to the trees, boys!" the Greatjon roared.
In droves, a much larger fraction of the Stark loyalist army fled into the Hornwood forest—taking special care to avoid the burning trees and intense flames. Ser Lucius, Olyvar and Ariyana looked behind them as the larger host seemingly fled; the Frey knight and Sword of the Morning were wondering what the Young Wolf was thinking by deciding to send most of his forces fleeing into the woods—leaving only a smaller host behind as Smalljon began using the body pile as a natural divider in the center of the field, diverting half his men to one side and half to the other.
Smalljon himself, along with a bodyguard of 10 men, felt very confident in himself and charged up the hill of bodies. Covered from head to toe in mud and blood, Robb and Jon fought off their attackers and steadily took several steps backwards for more leeway. Wun Wun howls a warning at what he sees: hundreds and hundreds of Bolton infantry carrying a six-foot tall rectangular shield. The Young Wolf saw they were attempting a lethal double envelopment maneuver and ordered at his men.
"Fall back into the woods!" Robb shouted. "Make them chase us!"
Thousands broke from the safety of their defensive caltrops and move back up the hill towards the Hornwood forest. Stark archers on the upper snow banks take some of them out before the Bolton infantry could set up their circle formation – one-by-one they hauled ass keeping them from creating an impenetrable wall. Jon, Mance, Tormund and Wun Wun move towards the hill and climb, though they had noticed Smalljon's men were quickly catching up with them.
"Ghost! Come to me, Ghost!" Jon called out.
The albino direwolf tore a Bolton troop's throat out before perking its ears up at the sound of its master's call. Ghost hoped off and dug its claws into the snow and climbed up the hill after Jon Snow before Smalljon could reach the animal.
"With me, lads! Break their lines!" shouted Ser Lucius.
Ramsay watches on his slope; his face curling with displeasure at the envelopment being hindered by the Stark archers. The shields from the attempted pincer movement kept hitting the hill and were forced to be curved upwards to be dragged, briefly exposing their legs to arrows or small kicks to send them back down the hill. That didn't deter Smalljon from frustratingly carving his way through with his greatsword. He's a badass of the first order, the strongest man on the field who isn't Wun Wun or Greatjon, and he's in his element.
Tormund sees this beast cutting down his people. "That all you got, fucker?" he taunted. "My grandma hits harder than you!"
Smalljon saw red and gave chase, prompting Jon, Mance, Tormund and the remaining forces to flee deeper into the woods—the bearded wildling hurling vicious insults and degenerative taunts at the bearded Northmen. At the epicenter of the feigned retreat, Robb and Jon made sure the opposing army pursued them deep into the Hornwood forest. The flames were still hot and consumed almost everything in its path, but because the winds stopped the fire did not spread.
Outside, Ramsay felt himself smirk in triumph—believing he had emerged victorious over the much larger Stark armies. However, once the smaller Stark contingent was in the center – Robb glanced at his left and right side.
"Lord Umber, Lady Mormont! Now!" he shouted.
That was the signal for the hidden Northmen to strike. That was a hush in the night, moonlight and a thick carpet of snow and ash underfoot. Grey Wind threw its head back and howled; the sound seemed to go right through the pursuing Bolton infantry and they froze midway in their chase. It was a terrible sound, a frightening sound.
*HAAroooooooooooooo!*
To the east, the trumpets of the Umbers roared with vengeance. To the west, the Mormonts leapt from the underbrush. To the north, the Stark host quickly turned around to face their pursuers and hit back. Men were shouting and horses rearing in the snow, ash and soot beneath them. The Hornwood forest let out its breath all at once as the bowmen, cavalry, infantrymen and spearmen Greatjon and Dacey hid in the trees let loose and the forest erupted with screams of men and horses. All around Smalljon, Manderly lancers routed his men behind him. A heartbeat, two, four and suddenly the Greatjon's riders emerge from the darkness beneath the trees.
Tormund took advantage of the distraction and manages to plunge his sword into the Smalljon's belly. This really pisses him off—causing him to grab Tormund and lift him off the ground and head-butts so hard Tormund's nose bursts open bloodily; and then again and again and again. The red-bearded wildling fights back as best he can, repeatedly punching at Smalljon's face but the big man took a sword through the belly, and punches aren't fazing him.
Fighting his way through Bolton soldiers, Jon bypassed their red X shields and pressed the counterattack. Wun Wun brushes off the Bolton soldiers armed with spears and rips off a Bolton shield to use it to swing at them—ignoring bearing speared like a woolly-mammoth by a select few. Yet the woods rang with echoes. The crack of a broken lance, the clash of swords, the cries of "Bolton" and "Stark" and "Red King!" and "Warden of the North!" rang throughout the area. Iron boots crunched in the snow, the woody sounds of swords clashed against oak shields and steel scrapped against steel.
The Bolton soldiers were taken completely off-guard by their situation; now they were in a giant problem. Wun Wun rose his foot and stomped down hard on one of them before grabbing one and smacking him against a tree. They knew it was only a matter of time now. The battle is lost.
Outside the forests, Ramsay could barely see what was going on but he could faintly hear the screams and shouts—whether from his own army or the Starks, he couldn't tell. He was busy having a moment of deep contentment, and in his contentment a war horn sounds in the distance which breaks him into a state of confusion.
*AHooooooooooooooooooooooo!*
Back in the forest, Smalljon continues beating down Tormund until the war horn broke his concentration. The instant of distraction is all Tormund needs to sink his teeth into Smalljon's ear.
"Gnnaaah!" Smalljon roars in pain.
Tormund quickly pulled back and ripped his ear off, causing Smalljon to release his grip on the wildling who grabs a dagger from his belt and stabs Smalljon's eyes like eggs before stabbing him repeatedly in the throat.
"Rrraah!" Tormund roars. "Die! Die! Die! Die!"
"To me! To me!" Mance shouted.
Ariyana and Lucius swing their weapons and cut down more Bolton soldiers, pleased that the feigned retreat/pincer movement pulled off in their favor. The Old Bull again hears war horns sounding off in the distance.
*AHooooooooooooooooooooooo!*
Robb and Jon turn to see the source of the war horn through the Hornwood forest: in the distance, charging down near the woods was a well-formed column of heavy cavalry. As they approached the middle of the battlefield, each mounted knight carried banners depicting a crowned black stag of Baratheon enclosed within a fiery red heart; an estimated 20,000 strong, galloping against the night sky as the flames lit their way forward.
Ramsay sees the Baratheon cavalry riding in to ruin his day and his face twisted with disgust, anger and frustration. High above the battlefield from the safety of the Lonely Hills, two spectators watch from horseback: Queen Sansa Stark and Ser Davos Seaworth.
Below them, the Baratheon cavalry rushes towards the Bolton rear as the Starks pushed them back out into the open, dissolving as if by centrifugal force as the Baratheon cavalry approaches, driving implacably forward. Once out into the open, Mance recognized the Baratheon knights and the same tactics used against him moments before; they're cutting down more Bolton troops until there was nothing left.
Ramsay sees everything unfolding before him from his vantage point. He might be furious, but he's smart: he knows when it's all falling apart. He turns and looks at both Robb and Jon, atop the body pile—both sides staring at each other from a distance. Both Stark and Snow glare at Ramsay. The Bolton bastard doesn't sit around and instead whistles to his two remaining generals before riding for the Dreadfort.
"Lord Stark!" Olyvar hollered. "Ramsay's getting away!" he points to the Bolton bastard.
Robb huffed. "I can see that. He knows his days are numbered, but wolves hunt in packs and look out for one another."
"Continue the pursuit!" Dacey shouted to her allies. "Don't let that bastard escape!"
Ramsay might have gotten a head start, but the Stark loyalists—despite having lost around 6,000 troops—gave chase with Robb, Jon, Theon, Olyvar, Lucius, Mance, Tormund and Wun Wun hot on his heels along with Grey Wind, Ghost and Shaggydog. By the looks of it, the giant was ahead of the pack.
The remaining Stark and Baratheon hosts finished what remained of the Bolton forces before joining in the pursuit.
At the Dreadfort…
Fleeing behind the walls of the Dreadfort, a reserve force of Bolton men remained behind. Once Ramsay and his generals entered, three guardsmen close and bar the gates behind them. Immediately Bolton archers man the walls and prepare their bows and arrows. Little by little, it became apparent their forces were utterly wiped out as the sounds dwindled and died. The Bolton men-at-arms knew they were next and planned to make their last stand.
Despite suffering a devastatingly major setback, Ramsay dismounts as a squire takes his horse's reins and leads it away just beyond the courtyard arch.
"Our army is gone," one of the Bolton generals exclaimed, looking around at the relatively few troops remaining.
Ramsay rolled his eyes and annoyingly shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he scoffed. "We have the Dreadfort. They don't have siege weapons to mount such an attempt. All we have to do is wait and—"
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
"We've got hostiles on the parameter!" one of the Bolton archer captains warned.
With a loud boom, something begins hitting the gate. Some commotion on the walls draws Ramsay's attention. Bolton archers nocked their arrows and started firing downwards from the battlements. Others manning the top signaled for more archers to come and help them.
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
*BAM!*
Ramsay watched the gate and understood what was coming next. One final bam later, a giant fist broke through the gate—made by Wun Wun's enormous hand. Seeing the giant's fist, Ramsay suspected the Stark army was not too far behind him and slowly backs away, leaving his increasingly terrified garrison to defend the gates alone. All the Bolton archers come around the battlements overlooking the main gate and fired down at the giant.
Despite the pain and discomfort, it didn't deter Wun Wun. The giant continued ramming against the gate with all his might, splintering its ancient wood and rattling with every impact. As the sun started to rise, everyone again heard the howling of Grey Wind, Ghost and Shaggydog. More holes appear as Wun Wun rammed through the gates with one final charge; his face is bloody through the shattered boards—but there was still some fight left in him. A series of thunderous footsteps entered through the gate into the courtyard.
Covered in dust and arrows, Wun Wun lets out a loud roar – causing Free Folk, Northern and Baratheon archers and infantrymen steaming in around him. The Bolton garrison realized they have no more cover to hide behind and the wildlings are renowned marksmen. Although the Bolton archers get a few Stark loyalists, the Bolton archers themselves are taken out by the Mormont troops.
Robb, Jon, Theon, Olyvar, Lucius, Mance, Tormund, Ghost, Shaggydog and Grey Wind enter the courtyard. As the Stark armies clean up the Dreadfort from inside, the Baratheons encircle the castle to prevent any attempts at escaping from the Boltons. They've got the ancestral seat of House Bolton completely surrounded on all sides. Even Myranda, Ramsay's psychotic lover, shot an arrow aimed at Dacey—narrowly missing the Lady of Bear Island's head before Dacey quickly closed the gap and bashed her head in with her Morningstar.
"Here I stand," she spat.
With no more archers remaining, Ramsay stands beneath the archway with the defaced slayed man relief. Bow in hand, quiver on his back. Robb and Jon are exhausted, with only hate keeping them standing. Theon raises his bow and points it at Ramsay, but his hand is stayed by Robb.
"I'll take him alone," he said menacingly. "Grey Wind, stay back."
The direwolf remained motionless as it still kept snarling at the Bolton bastard in front of it. Its litter siblings Ghost and Shaggydog did the same thing. Ramsay examined the men surrounding him, bow and arrows aimed directly at him, and with swords, axes and spears gripped tightly ready to attack on command.
Regardless, he continued smirking. "Your bastard brother suggested one-on-one combat, didn't he?" Ramsay said referring to Jon. "Well… I've reconsidered, Young Wolf. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."
Robb takes an uneasy step towards Ramsay; not hearing or listening to Olyvar or Ser Lucius. He grips his longsword tightly before seeing Ramsay pulling his bow back; Robb quickly scoops up a nearby Mormont shield and pulls it up in the nick of time. Ramsay aims his arrow, nocks, draws and shoots. Robb catches the arrow with his shield, lowering the shield and kept his approach and gains focus as he goes.
"You terrorize my people for your own amusement…"
Ramsay pulls another arrow, more hurried this time. He nocks, draws, shoots. Robb blocks; the arrow punches through the shield, its point an inch from his face.
"You murdered my father's steward…"
Ramsay's breathing becomes more frantic. He pulls the arrow, nocks and shoots but misses as the Young Wolf continues to close the gap.
"Then you kidnap, brutalize and raped a friend you masqueraded as one of my sisters…"
Ramsay pulls another arrow, fumbling the nock and draws the bowstring back but by then Robb has advanced close enough.
*WHAM!*
"Winter has come for House Bolton," he said catching the shield upside Ramsay's head with the shield, sending his shot wide and dropping him to the ground.
Robb stands over Ramsay and pins him to the ground before physically beating him with the shield, tearing open his forehead, breaking his nose and a few ribs. Ramsay tasted bile and blood in his mouth as Robb continued pummeling him mercilessly. His face becomes mangled and covered in blood and mud.
But Sansa, Brienne, Stannis and Davos arrive through the broken gate. Hearing their horses, Robb and everyone turns to see them. He doesn't care about Stannis or Davos in this moment. He only looks at his sister. Sansa looks back at him and at Ramsay. Ramsay looks up at the blurry, silhouetted form of the Starks, breathing heavily from the exertion of the beating, staring down at him. Robb walks away as Ramsay blacks out.
By the day's end, some Stark men throw the Bolton banners off the Dreadfort. Stannis remained atop his horse eyeing the situation closely. Melisandre watches it happen from the walkway. One of her prophecies, fulfilled. Sansa, however, never took her eyes off the unconscious Ramsay Snow.
The following morning…
"You don't have to be here if you don't want to be, Your Grace," Brienne said to Sansa.
The Wolf Queen remained calm and composed. "No, I do," she replied.
Ramsay's battered head lolled on his neck, covered in blood from his beating. His hands were strapped tightly behind his back and his legs bound, meaning he could not flee nor could he avoid the fate in store for him. Twitching, coughing and groaning slightly, Ramsay slowly comes to. It takes a moment, but Ramsay realizes he is positioned on a tree limb used as a block. He briefly looks up to see Robb, Jon, Theon, Sansa and Stannis all staring down at him.
"Well," he coughed in a painful daze, "I suppose this is how it all comes to an end now?"
Sansa does not react or respond. She just watches him.
"Still sore over how I treated your little friend? Ooh, I know. Should've listened at how loud her screams were whenever I pushed myself inside her tight little cunt. Heh, no one at the Dreadfort slept a wink those nights."
Sansa still says nothing; Ramsay's attempts at making her lose control, to break her composure are a failure. Instead, she speaks with the calm of total certain.
"You brought this on yourself," Sansa said. "House Bolton is already gone. Their words, their name… Soon all memory of you will disappear."
Ramsay smiles weakly. "My house. My words, my name," he replied defiantly.
"You're not a Bolton, you're a Snow," Olyvar was tempted to kick him in the face. "Now you won't escape justice this time."
"My legacy has already been cemented—"
"You murdered my niece, Walda. You killed her babe. Now you'll answer for your crimes."
The blood on Ramsay's face has not dried yet, not entirely. Some of it still glistens in the sunlight.
"Ramsay Snow, bastard of House Bolton," Sansa says with regal authority in her tone, "in the sight of Gods and men, the heinous crimes you've committed occurred on the North's soil. You will answer for a great deal. The North and its people will deal with your punish accordingly as per the traditions of the First Men." She turned to her older brother. "Robb?"
Robb motions a squire to bring him his wolf pelt/scabbard and draws his family's ancestral Valyrian greatsword Ice from it and bows his head over Ice. Dacey leans over to whisper in Olyvar's ear.
"Pay close attention," she whispers. "Here in the North, we hold dear our ancestors' tenants. 'He who passes the sentence should swing the sword'."
Olyvar nodded as Robb began the sentencing.
"In the name of Daveth of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."
'That monster doesn't even deserve to have a final word,' Olyvar cursed.
Taking a step backwards, Robb swung Ice with all his might through the air and brought the Valyrian greatsword down – cutting off Ramsay's head in a single blow. His body fell to the ground spraying the snow with the man's blood pouring all over the place, his fell rolled across the hill.
Ser Rodrik picked up Ramsay's severed head by his haggard hair and disgustedly handed it over to one of his men. "Put his head on a spike," he said dismissively.
As the gathered Northmen and Free Folk cheered in celebration over their triumphant victory for control of the North, relieved that House Bolton is permanently gone… only two individuals retained their composure: Sansa and Stannis.
Stannis watched the execution ceremony; and like he did with Jon Snow at Castle Black, he gave a small nod of approval. Sansa, meanwhile, placed a hand on her stomach. The bastard traitor Ramsay Snow has been punished for what he did to her best childhood friend, Jeyne Poole. With the Boltons extinct, the North would finally breathe a sigh of relief. She calmly massages her pregnant belly before turning around and looking in the direction of the sun shining upon Winterfell.
"I hope this brings you a sense of closure, Jeyne," Sansa says quietly to herself. "No doubt it'll take time for such wounds to heal, but you're not alone. I'll always protect you."
Chapter End
Author's Note: And so ends Part 2 of the Battle for the North (aka the new Battle of the Bastards). The Starks lose only 6,000 but the Boltons were absolutely demolished. Robb introduces the feigned retreat and Stannis' cavalry the pincer maneuver strategies. With House Bolton extinct, the North is better off without them. Think how this battle was played out with the Starks having had the much larger numbers? Was the fight at least good? Let me know.
GREAT-CELESTIAL DRAGON: Great chapter, after seeing the final season I hope you can avoid the mistakes they made for the characters
―Here's hoping.
Tohka123: Really enjoyed the battle scenes was well written. Can't wait for more keep up the hard work
―Thanks.
ABEBOABDU: awesome update can't wait for the next one
kyrasaige16: This chapter was awesome! I wonder how Sansa will deal with the return of Ariyana. I love that Dacey was teaching Olyvar the ways of the North. And I cannot express how pleased I was to learn that Ice was still in tact and hadn't been melted down.
DJ Wolfenstien: A fantastic chapter. I am excited to read the next one and see what comes after the Battle For The North.
designtechdk: Love the fast updates, great chapter.
―Thanks.
jgs237: The end of the Bolton House.
Great chapter! Cant wait for the next!
MrKristoffer1994: But now two greater threats are rapidly approaching the North and Westeros: the Long Night and the army of the dead, and Daenerys "Stormborn" Targaryen and her army. How will Daveth deal with this? :O
Hear My Fury: Well this is the Whispering Wood of your story and I loved it. Glad to see Ramsay pay for all he's done. I was also listening to the season 5 track, "The Wars to Come" when Stannis arrived. It made the moment even better. Now let's get back to Daveth and see how he deals with the Sparrows.
10868letsgo: Great! Thou i did like the part where Sansa feed him to the dogs. Let's see how the people take the news in Kingslanding.