Gathering the troops and the night before Battle of the Bastards. Some script from the show, but with a twist. Some time skips too.

Jon

The party slowly made its way to Bear Island, taking around a moon to get there. Jon and Sansa had yet to tell Brienne and Pod about Jon's true identity, however they'd decided it would be for the best if she knew. They wanted her to keep it quiet until she saw Olenna Tyrell, although she knew the Queen of Thorns would want to marry her granddaughter off to Jon, if Tommen didn't survive; a point that they had so far, decided to keep from the Lady of Tarth. Over the course of the journey, Sansa had learned new skills; she had managed to Master the art of skinning a rabbit, although she wasn't as quick as the others. Rabbit skinning had become a daily competition, the winner getting an extra ladle of stew. Tormund frequently won as the Freefolk depended upon these abilities. Jon only participated twice, his skills far superior to those of Brienne and the Freefolk; he always gave his extra helping to Sansa. Many of the evenings had been entertaining, singing, tales, dancing and plenty of drinking. Jon noticed Sansa's tolerance for alcohol increasing, which might help when she was Queen, although he didn't want her to turn into a Cersei Lannister, for Sansa had told him the woman was a heavy drinker. Jon's favourite part of the day was when they settled down for bed. The rest of the party had accepted Jon needing to stay with Sansa, otherwise she would be keeping the entire camp awake with her nightmares. What concerned Jon the most, was that he wouldn't be able to stay with her every night, especially once they'd retaken Winterfell, and as they'd decided to wait until after the conclave for their wedding, sleeping in the same bed would not be an option for at least a week. Jon knew he might have to leave to return to Castle Black to prevent the spells in the wall from being broken.

Eventually they managed to gain an audience with Lady Mormont. Sansa had warned her she girl was fierce, her letter to Stannis confirmed Sansa's warning. She had also devised a way to talk Lyanna into helping them. Sansa's job was to initially flatter, Jon's was to get to the point and empathise with her situation. Brienne was to show how they believed a female warrior was equal to man and that they respected her, despite her being a woman. Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the sharp-tongued, dark haired girl, sat upon a dais, flanked by a commander and a Maester. Jon Sansa, Brienne and and Pod entered the great hall, the Mormont guards closing the doors behind them.

"Lady Mormont." Jon bowed his head.

"Welcome to Bear Island." the expression on her face was anything but welcoming Jon looked at Sansa.

" I remember when you were born, my lady. You were named for my Aunt Lyanna. It was said she was a great beauty, and had the potential to be a great warrior. I'm sure you will follow in her footsteps."

"I hope not. My mother wasn't a great beauty or any other kind of beauty." Lyanna snapped. "She was a great warrior, though. She died fighting for your brother, Robb." her face was full of disdain. Jon was becoming concerned as Sansa had told him Davos had saved the day, and now they were without the man who had gained the support of Bear Island, he hoped Sansa knew what she was doing, she'd told him what Ser Davos had said to convince the girl.

"I served under your uncle at Castle Black, Lady Lyanna. He was also a great warrior and my Lord Commander before I followed in his footsteps. When Stannis Baratheon garrisoned at Castle Black before he marched on Winterfell and was killed, he showed me the letter you wrote to him when he petitioned for men. It said..." Jon started.

"I remember what it said." Lyanna snapped. "It said 'Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark.' I think we've had enough small talk. What are you here?"

"Robb is gone, but House Stark is not. And it needs your support now more than ever. I've come with Lady Sansa to ask for House Mormont's allegiance." Jon was careful to not refer to Sansa as his sister, he knew Lyanna would remember that.

Lyanna leaned towards her Maester, whispering to each other. Lyanna turned back to face Jon. "As far as I understand, you're a Snow and Lady Sansa is a Bolton. Or is she a Lannister? I've heard conflicting reports."

"Sham marriages. She was not of age and no senior member of house Stark gave permission for either marriage, which were just excuses for her name, imprisonment and torture." Jon responded defensively.

"I am a Stark. I will always be a Stark." Sansa stood proud.

"If you say so. In any case, you don't just want my allegiance. You want my fighting men." Lyanna looked bored.

"Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, my lady. It is our duty to stop him. Even more so because he holds our brother Rickon Stark as prisoner." Jon knew this wasn't going well, but Sansa told him what would sway her, and it was just about waiting for the right moment to give his speech. "What you have to understand, my lady, is that..."

"I understand that I'm responsible for Bear Island and all who live here. So why should I sacrifice one more Mormont life for someone else's war?"

"I understand how you feel." Jon said.

"All right, Jon Snow. How is it you understand how I feel?" Lyanna asked.

"Like you never thought you'd find yourself in your position. I never thought I'd be in my position. The bastard son of Ned Stark, kept out of sight all his life. Sent to the wall to rot. And now I find myself addressing the lady of a great house in time of war. But I'm here because this isn't just mine or Lady Sansa's war, it is your war too. We are not just talking about Winterfell.

"Go on, Lord Snow." Lyanna sounded mildly interested, giving Jon confidence.

"I was steward to your uncle, Lord Commander Mormont, made that man his steward. He chose me to be his successor because he knew I would have the courage to do what was right, even if it meant dying for the cause. The real war isn't between a few squabbling houses. It's between the living and the dead. And make no mistake, my lady, the dead are coming. I've seen them with my own eyes. I died for this cause."

"And yet here you stand, you look very much alive to me Lord Commander."

"Brought back to life by a priestess, My Lady." Brienne finally spoke.

"And you are?" Lyanna asked.

"Lady Brienne of Tarth." Brienne bowed her head.

Once more, Lyanna spoke with her Maester. "You are not of the north. Why would you venture far north?"

"I was sworn to return Lady Sansa safely to Winterfell. However, I can vouch the the former Lord Commander did indeed return from the dead. He has the wounds to prove it, wounds which are unsurvivable. Yet, he continues to fight because he knows this war bigger than all of us." Brienne said.

"Is this true?" Lyanna asked.

Jon nodded. "Your uncle fought them at the Fist of the First Men. I fought them at Hardhome. We both lost. As long as the Boltons hold Winterfell, the North is divided. And a divided North won't stand a chance against the Night King. You want to protect your people, my lady. I understand. But there's no hiding from this. If we are to have any chance of survival, we have to fight and we need to do it together. We can't do that while Ramsey Bolton holds Winterfell. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." he added.

Lyanna's maester leaned over to whisper in her ear, but she waved him away. "House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for a thousand years. We will not break faith today."

"Thank you, my lady. How many fighting men can we expect?" Jon asked, although he already knew the answer.

Lyanna turned to her military commander and spoke with him before giving Jon the number he expected. "Sixty two." she told him.

"Thank you My Lady." Jon bowed his head.

"We are not a large house, but we're a proud one. And every man from Bear Island fights with the strength of ten mainlanders." she boasted.

"If they're half as ferocious as their lady, the Boltons are doomed." Jon said, Sansa had told him the Lady of Bear Island would see this as a huge compliment, which judging by her smile and nod, Sansa had been correct.

The Mormont men, along with Lady Lyanna would meet them just north of Winterfell, at the place where Stannis had camped before his doomed battle. It had been decided not to parlay with Lord Glover as he would refuse to help, which meant one less house to visit. As a result, what would become known as the Battle of the Bastards would possibly take place sooner than original battle. Their leaving Bear island also meant they were parting company with Brienne and Podrick who would be sailing south to The Crag in the Westerlands, and riding from there towards Riverrun, as they would be able to avoid most of the snow, making the journey safer and quicker.

Jon and Sansa took Brienne to one side. Sansa had already given her sworn sword instructions as to dealing with Lady Olenna, however it was up to Brienne's common sense when it came to Ser Jaime, after all, she did know him better than they did. They took Brienne to a secluded part of the woods which covered the island, so they could speak privately.

Sansa started. "Lady Brienne, before you go south, there is something Jon must tell you. At first we thought it would be best to say nothing, but upon further consideration, we decided to tell you and let you do what you felt appropriate with our little secret." Brienne looked at them both wide-eyed with shock. It was then Jon realised she was thinking they were about to tell her something completely different, something which was related to their bed-sharing. Sansa clearly realised Brienne had jumped to that conclusion. "Not that." Sansa said, as Brienne sighed with relief.

Jon took a deep breath. "Ned Stark was not the man who fathered me." he told her.

Brienne looked astounded. "But you look like a Stark." she turned to Sansa. "Does that mean..."

"We aren't brother and sister." Sansa nodded.

"But you've been sharing a bed. Did you know?" she asked.

"Of course. I've known since I returned. I knew for five years who Jon was before I came back." Sansa explained.

"I'm not a bastard. I'm trueborn. But I do have Stark blood. My mother was a Stark."

Brienne frowned for a moment before her face paled. "Lyanna?" she asked, they both nodded. "And... you can't be..." she shook her head.

"My name, my real name is Aegon Targaryen. There is proof of my parents marriage and its validity in the Citadel, Sam is looking it up right now."

"Seven hells, this changes everything." Brienne whispered. "Are you going to challenge for the iron throne?"

"We've got more important matters to concern ourselves with." Jon replied. Sansa had been convinced his place was in Winterfell, but he knew should the situation arise, his duty would lie south. He just hoped Sansa would come with him. They were to marry, but she hadn't said anything about what would happen if there was no other option but for Jon to take the Iron Throne.

"Why are you telling me this?" Brienne asked.

"Firstly, I didn't want you to be the last person in the Seven Kingdoms to know." Sansa smiled. "I also though it might come in useful when you meet with Lady Olenna. Of course, she will probably already know by the time you reach Highgarden. You also need to know that Jon and I are betrothed. We will be wedded after the northern conclave."

Brienne clearly hadn't expected that piece of information, despite her earlier suspicion of Sansa being with child. "But My Lady, you were raised as siblings. It isn't proper." she turned to Jon. "Of course, I am aware that your family has no qualms with this type of marriage."

Jon knew a comment like that would come from someone, although he hadn't expected the disdain from Brienne. "I am marrying Sansa to protect her. She's gone through enough trauma with men, I would never hurt her. You know that for a fact. I certainly don't need to marry her for her name."

"He'll have suitors lined up from here to Meereen." Sansa added. "Jon is a prince and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms." she reminded Brienne, who suddenly realised she'd overstepped the mark.

"I'm sorry for insulting you, your grace." Brienne lowered her eyes.

"There is no need for formalities..." Jon started.

"Yet." Sansa gave Jon a warning look. "We don't know how the northern Lords will react, which is part of the reason for our marriage. It will hopefully ensure one of us is crowned King or Queen in the north."

"And if it doesn't?" Brienne asked.

Jon and Sansa looked at each other, Jon hadn't thought of an alternative, quite clearly, neither had Sansa. "We'll decide what to do if that should come to pass. But Sansa would automatically become the Lady of Winterfell and as Ramsey's heir, warden of the north and Lady of the Dreadfort, which would be enough for now." he said.

"I need for you to be clear that Jon and I barely knew one another as children. We were raised apart." Sansa said.

"It is true." Jon nodded.

"If anyone questions our marriage, it must be made clear that it is a love match and not for political reasons. Jon was raised as my father's bastard, his values would be deemed as somewhat different to that of a usual highborn. You must make it clear that our feelings were certainly more than sibling-like." Sansa instructed Brienne.

"That isn't hard. I had wondered myself." Brienne raised an eyebrow. Jon was silent, he could barely look at Sansa, nor could she him.

"Stories need to spread." Sansa carried on, ignoring Brienne's last comment. "People love a good story. The bastard Lord Commander of the Nights Watch who rose from the dead, only to find he was a prince. His oath died when he did."

"Rescuing the fair maiden who was his cousin and falling in love with her. Saving the north from the evil of the men who flayed their own. Ready to save the world from the evil monsters who threaten the realm." Brienne nodded. "I get it."

"Don't write yourself and Pod out of the story." Jon chided. "Stories may encourage men to come north to help fight against the army of the dead. Find some glory with the Night's Watch. Tell Pod the truth after you reach The Crag, he needs to be part of this campaign."

"Every inn you stop in, raise Jon's popularity. He is the Targaryen who is protecting the land from the ice monsters, Daenerys is the one who is only concerned with the Iron Throne." Sansa added, turning to Jon. "If the north won't crown either of us..."

"Then we will fight for the Iron Throne." Jon nodded. "I know. It may still come to that even if they do."

"Should I tell Ser Jaime?" Brienne asked.

"Make it known amongst the smallfolk first. Let him ask questions." Sansa smiled as a horn blew in the distance.

"That will be my ship." Brienne sighed, Sansa hugged her sworn sword. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." she added.

"And you too." Jon smiled.

"I command you return." Sansa had tears in her eyes as Brienne bowed her head once more.

"Your grace, My Lady." she said, turning around and leaving Jon and Sansa alone in the woods.

Just over a moons turn later, the army Jon and Sansa had managed to muster was gathered near Winterfell. Sansa had concerns as everything was moving more quickly than before. They had not bothered visiting houses which they hadn't been able garner support from previously. Sansa was trying to work out every possible outcome for everything she was planning, however losing this battle was not one of them. Jon knew that she would be asking Littlefinger for help, he would swoop in and save the day, although that was not the tale Brienne was to relay.

Today was the day Jon would meet Ramsey for the first time. They waited just outside Winterfell, where he was joined by Sansa, Tormund, Lyanna Mormont, and some Stark bannermen. Eventually a dark haired, pale eyed man, whom Jon assumed must be Ramsey arrived. He was accompanied by two men who Jon recognised as Harald Karstark, Smalljon Umber; he also had his own contingent of Bolton soldiers on horseback with him.

Jon turned to Sansa. "You don't have to be here."

"Yes, I do." Sansa replied.

"My beloved wife. I've missed you terribly." Ramsey's sounded almost affectionate before turning his attention to Jon. "Although, I do believe you have been warming her bed while she has been away. Are you a sister-fucker as well as a bastard?" Ramsey asked, however Jon didn't take the bait.
"No matter, should she be with child, I'll kill the bastard. Can't have people wondering whether any child of ours is mine or not. And although I don't approve of sister-fucking, it is easy to understand your...predicament. A bastard who has been celibate for years encountering a beautiful Lady like my wife. I suspect you were unable to control your...urges. But I am a forgiving man, and I'd still like to thank you for returning Lady Bolton to me.." Ramsey smiled. "Now, dismount and kneel before me, surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house. Come, bastard, you don't have the men, you don't have the horses, and you don't have Winterfell. Why lead those pour souls into slaughter? There's no need for a battle. Get off your horse and kneel. I'm a man of mercy." Jon could tell the bastard was lying. The moment they got down, he'd have them flayed. Ramsey was a narcissistic psychopath who liked to play games, just as Sansa had described him. Jon needed to play back.

"You're right. There's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us. Let's end this the old way. You against me." Jon smiled, knowing his opponent wouldn't bow down.

Ramsey chuckled. "I keep hearing stories about you, sister-fucking bastard. The way people in the North talk about you, you're the greatest swordsman who ever walked." he exaggerated. "Maybe you are that good. Maybe not. I don't know if I'd beat you. But I know that my army will beat yours. I have six thousand men. You have, what, half that? Not even?" he looked as if he actually felt sorry for Jon.

"Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?"

Ramsey pointed at Jon "He's good. Very good. Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you're too proud to surrender?"

"How do we know you have him? And if you do, how are we to know he is still alive." Sansa asked.

Ramsey nodded to Smalljon Umber, who pulled the unmistakable head of Rickon's direwolf, Shaggydog head out from a satchel and threw it on the ground.

"Now, if you want to save..." Ramsey started.

"You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well." Sansa said, turning her horse and riding off.

"She's a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed." Ramsey smiled to Jon. "And you're all fine-looking men. My dogs are desperate to meet you. I haven't fed them for seven days. They're ravenous. I wonder which parts they'll try first. Your eyes? Your balls? We'll find out soon enough. In the morning, then, bastard."

They returned back to camp to take on last look at the battle plans in Jon and Sansa's tent after they ate their dinner.

"If he was smart, he'd stay inside the walls of Winterfell and wait us out." Jon sighed. His mean don't want to fight for him. They're forced to fight for him. If they feel the tide turning..."

"It's not his men that worry me. It's his horses. I know what mounted knights can do to us." Tormund complained.

"We're digging trenches all along our flanks. They won't be able to hit us the way that Stannis hit you, in a double envelopment." Jon said as Tormund stared at him as if he'd said it in High Valyrian.
"A pincer move." Jon offered, but Tormund still looked as if he didn't understand. "They won't be able to hit us from the sides."

"Good." Tormund finally understood. "Did you really think that cunt would fight you man to man?"

"No. But I wanted to make him angry. I want him coming at us full tilt." Jon sighed. "We should get some sleep."

"Rest, Jon Snow. We need you sharp tomorrow." Tormund patted Jon on the back as he left, leaving Jon and Sansa alone.

"So you've met the enemy, drawn up your battle plans." Sansa said.

"Aye, for what they're worth."

"You're using exactly the same battle tactics as before." Sansa told him. "I've written to Littlefinger."

"You think he'll still come?" Jon asked.

"Of course he will, he wants to marry me remember." Sansa raised an eyebrow, Jon swallowed back his anger.

"I hate having him coming to the rescue." Jon gritted his teeth.

"Neither do I, but we don't have enough men and we can't get any more. Just make sure you stay alive until he arrives. Try not to fall into his trap this time. When you see Rickon.." she started.

Jon stood up, his shoulders tense. They'd avoided talking about Rickon because Sansa had deemed him a lost cause that no matter what happened, they couldn't save him. "What should we do? How do we get Rickon back?"

Sansa licked her lips nervously. "I told you before, we'll never get him back. Rickon is Ned Starks trueborn son. As long as he lives, Ramsay's claim to Winterfell will be contested, which means he never intended for Rickon to live long. No matter what you do, Ramsey will kill Rickon before you get to him."

"We can't give up on our brother." Jon pleaded. Just because Ned wasn't Jon's biological father, didn't mean Rickon was Jon's brother.

"Listen to me, please. He wants you to make a mistake and if you ride out to try and save Rickon, you will lose hundreds of men. Littlefinger barely made it in time to save you last time." Sansa begged.

"Of course he barely made it. What should I do differently?" Jon was getting angry, not at Sansa, but with Sansa.

"I don't know! I don't know anything about battles! Just don't charge at him like a hero in a story."

"Aye, that's good advice, but would you be able to hold back knowing that he's about to kill your baby brother? Can you be that cold?" Jon and Sansa were stood close, the anger in the tent was palpable.

Sansa slapped his cheek. "How dare you! I would do anything to get Rickon back, but I'm not going to be irrational about it. You have to know when to pick your battles and when to concede defeat. I was a Queen for five years; those years were mainly peaceful, apart from the odd Ironborn skirmish. Resist the urge to play the hero Jon."

"I don't intend to play the fucking hero Sansa, I just want our brother back!"

"And you think I don't? Of course I want him back Jon, it would solve all of our problems. But it won't happen. Running to him won't save him. Maybe if you can get his attention, tell him not to run in a straight line... I don't know. I wasn't at the battle. It is only what I was told." Jon senses Sansa's frustration at not being able to help. A trait Sansa had, Jon noticed, was that she liked to be in control of everything, if she wasn't, she got angry and tetchy. For a woman who had been Queen for five years, it was to be expected. In her previous life, Sansa told him he'd survived the battle, but a huge part of his army was lost and Littlefinger had swooped in to save the day.

"If Ramsay wins, I'm not going back there alive. Do you understand me?" Sansa spat, Jon placed his hands on her cheeks.

"I won't ever let him touch you again. I'll protect you, I promise." Jon promised as Sansa covered his hands with hers. "No man will ever touch you, not without your permission."

Sansa pulled his right hand away from her cheek and kissed the palm, her eyes never leaving his. "You can't protect me all of the time." she whispered.

Jon slipped the loose hand free and wrapped it around Sansa's waist, pulling her hips towards his, he needed her close. Although she'd promised him he would live, he wanted one moment with her, just in case anything changed from the original battle. He rested his forehead against hers and stared into her blue eyes, which were dark in the low light. "I can try." he said. "May I have permission from the beautiful Lady to steal a kiss before battle, just in case I fall?"

Sansa swallowed and nodded. Jon kissed her gently, not the kiss they'd shared while under the influence of kingsheart, which had been fiery and passionate. This was almost chaste in comparison, yet the meaning behind it was clear, Sansa was not prepared to lose Jon, if he died, so would she.