The Dragon and the Hawke 57
Roose Bolton waited in the great hall of the Dreadfort for the Baratheon forces to break down the door. He'd known they were lost as soon as he'd seen the woman who stole Sansa Stark from him. The woman could bend reality to her whim, it would be child's play for her to find a way into the castle. He'd not been wrong and watched with his men as the woman tore the drawbridge from its mooring and set it down with all of the grace of a collapsing tower.
Ramsey had ridden out with a thousand of their starving conscripts from the Bolton lands, and those men had been slaughtered by the boy's own idiotic idea that if one arrow through the heart didn't kill the magic woman, a thousand would. As a result, those starving men were dead, and Ramsey was nowhere to be seen.
His eldest son could only be dead, he'd been gone too long outside the castle, and there was no way he would manage to escape with all of his hounds and on a conspicuous horse. The Bolton Lord knew that he was beaten, but he would not go so quietly as to let the Baratheons behead him like a common criminal.
He drew his sword as the door finally cracked against the blows raining down on it from the other side. He turns to his men, those still remaining, armed with their swords or with crossbows aimed at the door. He turned back to it as there was another splintering and a hole was opened in the center. One of his men loose their bolts and a cry of pain from the other side tells him that it found its mark.
There is a pause from the other side of the door, and the voice of Stannis Baratheon calls through, "Give up Bolton, you can't win."
"My men are willing to die with me," Roose declares, "We will not be killed as criminals."
There is another pause from outside the door, then another voice, one that sounds more like a commoner, "Lads, King Stannis is a reasonable man, he won't fault you for following your liege lord, but you've got no reason to die other than Lord Bolton's whims. You lay down your arms and the King'll be lenient."
Roose narrows his eyes and casts his gaze over his men. He can see almost immediately that he has made a mistake with that, as his men see him eyeing them suspiciously. There had been a sort of trust and camaraderie between the doomed men not two minutes ago, but Roose had broken it with his distrustful gaze.
He tries to cast distrust against the Baratheon bannerman who had been so eloquent and asks, "And how can they trust that you won't simply take advantage of their surrender?"
"Well, I'm speaking from experience, m'self," The man replies, "Not s'long ago I was breaking the law, but King Stannis saw that I was better off alive."
"An o're you then?" One of his men demands, and Roose turns in fury to the offending speaker, but freezes when he sees that the man has his crossbow aimed at himself rather than the door.
The bolt was aimed steadily at his head, and he decided not to try anything just yet, out of self preservation. As he realizes that his men have nearly all turned against him, the man on the other side of the door declares, "Well, not t'sound all puffed up, you may've heard of me, Davos Seaworth, they call me th'Onion Knight."
"Aye, I've 'eard of 'im," One of the Bolton men nods, "S'a bloke what got made a Knight f'being a smuggler."
"Well he ain't ever been a Bolton lad," another of his men declares, "I d'know about you, but I'd rather face th'swords than the bastard's 'ounds."
"Hounds?" the Onion Knight asks, "If yer talking about Ramsey Bolton, he's dead. Not t'mention we've got Lord Bolton's wife and other son."
Roose's eyes widen and he turns towards the door in fury at the idea that his newborn son has been taken by the Baratheons, and it is then that he feels the first bolt enter his back. He gives a startled and pained cry as it sinks between ribs and digs into his flesh and through his left lung.
The Bolton Lord drops to the ground, limp, as Davos Seaworth notes, "I'll take from 'is cry that Lord Bolton is dead?"
"Nearly there," the first Bolton man to have spoken tells the knight, "Think th'King'd like a chance to take 'is 'ead without us doing it."
Roose watches as the man steps over to the door and asks, "We get t'live if we let y'in, right?"
"You do," He hears Stannis say as the light starts to fade and sight begins to drift.
He hears the bar being removed and the sound of the door opening, and then somebody steps up to him and he struggles to look up. Stannis Baratheon stands above him, glaring down at him dispassionately, "It is a shame I can't take my time with this, but you've not got long it looks like. Roose Bolton, you are a traitor to the King in the North, Robb Stark, a cannibal, a thief, and a monster of the highest order. For these crimes you are stripped of titles and holdings and sentenced to die. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Roose manages to gurgle in anger, blood dripping out of his mouth instead of words. Stannis nods, draws his sword, and swings down.
Davos steps up beside his king and notes, "Didn't know Bolton was a thief, your grace."
Stannis looks away from the corpse and to his hand and tells him, "He stole Winterfell from its rightful owners, that is thievery enough for me."
"Beggin your pardon, your grace, but didn't we steal it from the Boltons, then?"
"We did, but we simply held it for the Starks," Stannis tells him, "There is an old saying, Davos. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."
"You think it's true?" Davos asks
"With everything that Melisandre has shown me, I know that words have power," Stannis tells him, waving for a pair of his men to take the corpse away before leaving the great hall in the direction he knew his priestess, wife, and the mad mage to be in.
He and Davos come across them playing with the baby Bolton while the child's mother watches nervously. The large Frey woman sees him coming and gets to her feet at a speed he would not have believed. He raises a hand calmingly, "You'll not suffer the same fate as your father or husband, Walda Bolton."
Walda nods quickly, "If I may, your Grace, what is to happen to me and little Dom."
"Dom? Named after Lord Bolton's late firstborn, I take it?" Stannis asks
"Yes, m'lord," she nods, and looks down fondly at her son, "I thought… it made him happy, your Grace."
"I'm sure it did," Stannis nods, then tells her, "You and your son will travel to Winterfell with Arya Stark, where they shall decide what will happen to you both."
Walda nods quickly and takes little Domeric from Marian as the mage gives it to her. Stannis catches a gleam in the mad god's eye that reminds him of that Selyse used to get before all of their failed sons, and Shireen. He turns his attention back to Walda and tells her, "Ser Davos will accompany to your rooms, and you will remain there until you depart, do you understand?"
"Yes, your Grace, thank you," Walda eagerly follows after Davos, glad that she and her son have escaped death for another day.
Stannis watches them leave the room before turning to Marian, "You have my thanks, Lady Hawke. If you had not arrived when you did, the tide may have been turned with my army retreating to the North."
"Happy to help," Marian nods, then asks, "So what's your plan now?"
"We'll continue the march," Stannis tells her, "The Twins are run by whatever remains of the Frey forces, and those men were never impressive in anything but numbers. With my army and the Northern might, it will be much easier to take them than it was the Dreadfort."
Marian nods, then asks, "You hear about what's happening in King's Landing?"
"We've been occupied," Stannis reminds her, "I take it something significant has taken place?"
"Yeah, Tyrion's sister Cersei blew up the Sept of Baelor and gotten herself crowned King."
Stannis blinks a few times, then turns his head and sighs, "Come, we'll need an empty room so that you can bring somebody who can actually explain the situation in more detail through from Meereen."
"Great!" Marian follows as he makes his way through the castle, "I gotta talk to my wife about something anyway!"
Stannis, recalling the look in her eyes, agrees, "I'm sure you do."