Along the western coast of the North the Lords of Flint's Finger, Blackpool, Greypool, Torrhen's Square, Deepwood Motte, Barrow Hall and the Rills reclaimed their homes and the homes of their bannermen from the lightly manned Ironborn who had dared to besiege the Northern castles. The Flints and the Glovers were even both able to launch two different naval attacks that sent dozens of Greyjoy ships to the bottom of the sea, thanks in large to a guerrilla naval fleet of fishing sloops commanded by Alysanne Mormont, the second daughter of Lady Maege who was known as the 'She-Bear'.
Alysanne had seven ships under her command that looked to all eyes as normal, poor, rickety fishing sloops from Bear Island, but had actually been filled with warriors from the Bay of Ice and the western coast who had wished to fight against the Ironborn. When the She-Bear learned that Robb Stark had marched the strongest army the North had ever seen back to reclaim his country, Alysanne had acted quickly, sailing four ships to Deepwood Motte and sending three more to Flint's Fingers where they assisted with the attack in the absence of the Royal Fleet, which was still fighting its was past the Westerlands despite having set sail before the army had even left King's Landing for Lannisport.
Dagmer Cleftjaw, an old Ironborn warrior loyal to Balon Greyjoy, and who had been rumored to have served Theon Greyjoy in his Capture of Winterfell was caught in Torrhen's Square by the overwhelming force of men commanded by the Tallharts, who executed and beheaded the once-most-feared Ironborn warrior unceremoniously after the castle and township had been recaptured and Dagmer's token force of Ironborn had been wiped out like Victarion's force in Moat Cailin. Dagmer's body was thrown into a box and joined the boxed bodies of his men on one of the small, surviving sloops of the Greyjoy ships that was pushed off from the Northern coast and set alight in a mass funeral. Dagmer's head was stuck on a pike by Ser Helman Tallhart and left to rot as a message to anyone who would dare besiege Torrhen's Square again. Ser Helman left his entire force of Tallhart men behind to fortify the castle and harvest the lands for the winter, leaving his brother Leobald as Castellan of Torrhen's Square while he marched out alone with the southeners at his back.
At Deepwood Motte, the Glovers faced a harder time due to the fierce skill and stubbornness of Balon Greyjoy's own daughter, Asha, and the fierce force of Ironborn she commanded. Alysanne Mormont's efforts on the shore meant that the Ironborn had no place to escape as the Glovers and a fraction of Robb Stark's southern army surrounded them. Tragically, in the chaos, Asha met Galbart Glover in single combat outside the walls of his own castle, where the Princess of the Ironborn fought Galbart for a while before she caught him in the face with a dirty jerk of her armored elbow. Before Galbart could have regained his senses, Asha had driven her sword through his belly. The death of his brother before his own eyes drove Robett Glover into a fury. Hacking and slashing his way through Asha's warriors, the new Master of Deepwood Motte engaged his brother's killer over his fallen body.
Asha's force had been fierce, but they were small. And though they had taken many lives from the Glover force, they were soon overwhelmed whilst Asha and Robett tirelessly fought amongst their fallen bretheren.
"Was he your brother?" Asha panted, after parrying a devastating blow from Robett's longsword.
"His name was Galbart Glover." Robett growled before charging forward to bring his sword down on Asha's block repeatedly, driving the Greyjoy woman back against the curtain walls of Deepwood Motte.
"And you will pay for his death." Robett insisted, bringing his sword charging from the left with an almighty swing that sent Asha's sword clattering away. Robett placed his sword at Asha's neck, wanting more than anything to avenge his brother, but knowing that if he killed Asha Greyjoy, he would face King Robb's wrath. With an enraged wordless bellow into Asha's face, Robett brough the pommel of his sword to her temple, causing Asha to crumple to the ground in unconsciousness before Robett rushed to Galbart's body.
The bells of Deepwood Motte tolled as House Glover reclaimed their home and mourned for the death of their lord. Robett elected to name his wife in command of Deepwood Motte along with the majority of House Glover's men who were tasked to set about preparing for the winter in earnest. Robett himself joined Ser Helman Tallhart to lead the remaining soldiers of the army to the Shadow Tower per King Robb's orders.
As the west was retaken, the Umbers, Karstarks, Manderlys, Hornwoods, and Widow's Watch Flints moved through the eastern coast of the North without facing any opposition from the Iron Islands. What they did find was outlaws, brigands and thieves running amok in their lands and through the villages and settlements. A particularly vicious group of criminals had turned out to be Bolton men that were not flying any banners. The Greatjon had managed to beat a confession out of one of them who confessed that they were men-at-arms loyal to Roose Bolton, charged with guarding and keeping an eye on Roose's bastard son Ramsay.
"The Bastard's Boys. I have heard of them." Daryn Hornwood said darkly as he and a handful of the other lords joined Lord Umber in questioning the men. They were standing in a damp enclosure of the forest, their army camped not far behind them.
"Aye? And what have you heard?" Lord Rickard Karstark asked Daryn, who shook his head, not wanting to say. After Daryn's father had been killed at the Whispering Wood by Jaime Lannister, Daryn had become Lord of Hornwood. Word had reached the camps that Lady Donella had perished as well, but Daryn had been unable to confirm the reports yet.
"That Bolton's bastard raped and killed my mother. So say the whores that have followed the camp since we started North. If it is true, then Bolton's bastard must also die."
"Oi. Where is the bastard?" The Greatjon asked, kicking the Bolton man on the ground roughly.
"Dr-d-dreadfort…" the man wheezed as he curled into a ball from the pain.
"Thank you." The Greatjon said cheerily before walking away to nod at Daryn Hornwood, who walked forward with his sword in hand to try and attack the Bolton man, only for the man to push Daryn's sword aside and tackle the Lord of Hornwood to the dirt and began to viciously attack him. It was Smalljon Umber's bow and arrow that saved Daryn from losing an eye.
"Train your other hand, Daryn." Smalljon said simply, walking over to offer his friend a hand. Daryn had lost two fingers on his right hand to Roose Bolton and was now struggling to hold a sword.
"I'm fine." Daryn said gruffly, pushing past Smalljon to dust himself off.
From there, the army split off with the Manderly men returning to White Harbor, the Hornwoods under Daryn going home to learn what state their lands were in, and the Flints following suit. The Umbers, the Karstarks and the southern soldiers themselves marched on to the Dreadfort, which was well-garrisoned and well-manned by the Bolton Bastard.
"I will never bend my knee to Robb Stark!" he had called over his walls, before arrows had rained down on the army. The Karstarks and Umbers were by now well versed in besieging a castle, and the Dreadfort was no different. In the dark of the night on the third day of the siege, Smalljon Umber, his brothers Harlow, Donnel and Harrion Karstark, donned the seized uniforms and surcoats of fallen Bolton soldiers. Using a poorly lit night to their advantage, they crossed the moat with little difficulty before scaling one of the lightly defended high-walls of the Dreadfort as quickly as they could. The Umbers and the Karstarks lived in rough Northern territory, and such physical activity was no stranger to them, but even still as they hauled themselves on the wall walk, they were out of breath and aching in every muscle.
"Quickly." Smalljon stated, rising up after taking a deep inhale. He had been at the Dreadfort once, when his friend Domeric Bolton had lived. Domeric had been everything his father was not, and Smalljon still mourned his loss to this day. He was amongst the many voices who blamed Ramsay Snow for the death, and today he would get justice.
Acting as naturally as they could, the small group began to silently assassinate Bolton guards on the walk. It was not the most honorable thing to do, but King Robb had made his intent clear; the Dreadfort and House Bolton needed to end.
The four men worked their way to the gate, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake, sure to be caught by someone soon, and sure enough when Smalljon finally cut at the thick ropes and chains that kept the drawbridge up and the portcullis down.
The alarm was raised and the four men were alone against a full garrison of Bolton soldiers who began to shout and charge at them as their army crossed the drawbridge as quickly as possible.
Donnel Umber, third son of the Greatjon was grinning, looking behind him to see his father's men charging through the portcullis, when Ramsay Snow fired an arrow that pierced Donnel's throat.
Smalljon Umber and Harlow Umber roared in anguish as they fought the Boltons off. The Greatjon himself had been at the fore when he saw Donnel die. His grief was immeasurabl, his rage terrifying to even his own allies as the giant of a man cleared a bloody and ruthless path through the Bolton garrison to come face to face with Ramsay Snow.
"Fuckin' Umbers." Ramsay grinned, shaking his head as he drew his sword and walked forward to engage the Greatjon, who snarled through his nostrils and tightened his grip on his sword. With a bellow that caused some of the fighting men to jump, the Greatjon charged forward, catching Ramsay's sword with the gauntlet that covered his already damaged left hand whilst simultaneously driving his sword through Ramsay Snow's heart and twisting his wrist. The Greatjon did not care about the pain in his left hand, not about the sword that had taken his remaining fingers and most of his palm. All he cared about was watching the man who killed his son die at his own hands. Ramsay's cold eyes bulged out of his head, grasping at the Greatjon's sword, and rasping wordless sounds, before Lord Umber slowly and painfully withdrew his sword from the bastard's body. Ramsay struggled to take a breath, a trail of blood leaking down his lips before he fell backward, dead.
A pool of blood quickly forming beneath him.
The Greatjon's grief was such that he refused to remain in the Dreadfort any longer, taking his sons and men home to Last Hearth and leaving Lord Rickard to settle the castle. Harrion Karstark was left as Castellan with two-thousand of King Robb's southern swords to dismantle the Bolton seat and bring peace to the lands, while Lord Rickard returned to Karhold, with the remains of his own younger sons Torrhen and Eddard, who had died over the course of the war.
The Blackfish, Dacey Mormont and Ser Garlan Tyrell commanded King Robb's host in the central North, sweeping through the castles of and sworn to: Ironrath, Castle Cerwyn, Highpoint and the smaller castles that swore their allegiance directly to Winterfell. Besides the seat of House Stark, none of the other castles had faced siege from the Ironborn due to their distance from the sea, meaning that the host faced a much quicker march to their final destination than the other armies did.
Robb, who had been wounded by Roose Bolton's dagger, had been forced to remain in a litter in the rearguard being tended to by a maester for the majority of the march. But as they approached Winterfell a fortnight after his injury, he refused to remain in the litter any longer. Donning his armor had caused some minor stiffness in his chest, but he faced no other issue as he rode forth from the rearguard to cheers and applause from the soldiers, who were overjoyed to see their King returned to them. Robb had become a living legend over the space of a few months, the Young Wolf who had assembled the greatest army Westeros had ever seen to end the most terrible war that it had ever seen. He'd brought down the corrupt and inbred dynasty of the Lannisters, he was a good and just leader to his people, and in battle had been undefeated. He would be remembered for centuries to come as a conqueror akin to Aegon the First, but a ruler akin to Jaehaerys the Old King; wise and just.
"Your Grace…what are you doing?" Brynden asked his great-nephew sternly, only to have Robb return his challenging gaze.
"Winterfell is my castle, and Theon went to Balon on my orders. This ends now. Set the siege lines one hundred yards from the castle, I want as little damage done to Winterfell as possible. Make that clear to all of our men."
"Of course, Your Grace." Ser Garlan said, bowing his head, tugging on his horse's reigns to ride back to the commanders of the army as a pale Robb Stark moved beside Brynden Tully.
"You cannot fight." Brynden pointed out after a moment, causing Dacey Mormont, who rode beside the two men, to give her friend a worried look.
"I cannot lift Ice. It does not mean I cannot fight. I will use my longsword. But if I will be honest, I do not think there will be a fight once the Ironborn hear my terms. I know Theon well. He will hold the castle till the bitter end, but he is easily annoyed. Keep him awake." Robb said, a grim smile on his face as Winterfell came into view. The sight of the kraken flying on his walls instead of the direwolf maddened Robb, his brow furrowed as he dug his heels into his horse, urging it to go forward.
Author's Note: So I just wanted to hurry things along in the North a bit to get to the good stuff which is Stark justice, because yes this is a revenge fic, and also I want to get to Margaery and Robb back together.