Blood and Winter
Chapter VIII
Hearing the chirping of birds, Jon looked up to see them fly overhead, heading south beyond the Wall. A small breeze rushed up, ruffling his clothes and Jon brought his cloak tighter around him as he did. It was hard to imagine just how cold it was here, the cold of Deepwood Motte paled in comparison. It was equally as hard to believe that he had actually been comfortable on the Wall.
Tearing his gaze from the birds, Jon looked down at the forest below, luckily a mist hadn't fallen yet allowing a clear view of the ground beneath the top of the Wall. And while the vast open land was completely exposed and empty, Jon could make out the the Wildling camp in the forest a few miles ahead. There were fires burning, throwing up smoke into the air.
"Lord Stark." Joer Mormont greeted and despite having gotten used to being referred to as such, Jon still found himself frowning whenever he heard it. "I'm glad you came."
"I couldn't just leave the Watch to face the Wildlings alone." Jon answered.
"Free you maybe, but you're still part of the Watch, aye?" Joer's question went unanswered, but the silence said it all. "Nonetheless, you have my gratitude, I know that considering the war in the North against the Ironborn and the Bolton-Dustin rebellion that it couldn't have been easy agreeing to come here."
Jon nodded his head. "A lot of the castellans were hesitant to agree, a war against the Ironborn has been a constant back and forth between us. And now the the Bolton-Dustin rebellion things have become more complicated.
Joer took note of the frustration in his voice and frowned. "I know it's bit late for this advice, but don't underestimate the Ironborn, a lot of people do. A lot view them as simple thugs and they'd be right. They don't have a trained military, they're a seafaring people and one of the best. But that doesn't mean they're not fighters. What they lack in formations and disciple they make up for in savagery, stubbornness and tenacity."
Jon couldn't help but agree with that sentiment.
Back when the Ironborn first invaded, many had viewed as a simple nuisance that with the Mountain Clans help would be easy to clean up, even with their superior numbers. Look how that had turned out? Most of the east was in the hands of the Ironborn and while they were currently in a stalemate, things were not looking good.
"Even so, I didn't expect this much trouble."
"You're inexperienced, the Ironborn aren't much threat to a skilled commander like Lord Jason Mallister, but to any other man, they're a very dangerous threat. Would you underestimate a Mountain Clansmen?" Joer asked and Jon shook his head without hesitation, he'd seen the Clansmen fight and they were a sight to behold. "Then don't underestimate the Ironborn cause they're every bit as dangerous."
"I'm going to." Jon said firmly. "Once were done here, I'm going to end the war. We've already received news that the eastern houses have finally agreed to transfer troops after drawing in practically every able bodied man they could. That'll give us near fifteen thousand men."
"And your enemies?"
"Last our scouts reported, the Ironborn have less than ten thousand men scattered across the western shore. Five thousand are stationed Torrhen's Square under Victarion Greyjoy. As for the Bolton's and Dustin's, we know that they have seven thousand stationed at Winterfell, but we've also received news that they have a further two thousand stationed at the Dreadfort." Jon stated, the frown growing deeper on his face.
"And what of Catelyn Stark and your brothers?"
"Even if I have to do it myself, I'll sneak into Winterfell and get them out myself."
Joer chuckled at that. "I believe you. For what it's worth, the Ironborn seemed to have thrown practically man and resources they had into conquering the North, young and old. They're not a rich nation and this reprieve is probably doing more damage to them than they're letting on."
"You've fought them before, right?"
"Mormont Keep has suffered raids from the Ironborn many a time. Though it's always brushed off as exiles or rogues whenever it comes down to it. So there's nothing we can do to take the fight to them." Here it was Joer that frowned, remembering the hardships of being Lord of House Mormont. "But yes, I have. They're fans of quick hit and run tactics, raiders that's what they are. They don't have the resources nor does the North have resources to sustain conflict on this level. And whereas the North have they're pride and a desire to protect homes and get revenge, the Ironborn do not."
Jon nodded his head at this, both men turning to see Samwell Tarly stepping out of the elevator. "I imagine though they'll not be easily ousted."
"Oh no, expect firm resistance. Like I said, they're stubborn and tenacious, they'll continue fighting so long as they believe they have a chance of winning. And right now, as much as I hate to admit…"
"They still do." Jon finished, watching Owen Norrey stop Sam. "Let him through Owen."
"Lord Stark, Lord Commander." Sam greeted, looking slightly out of breath and Jon paused to take a look at his friend. He was still incredibly overweight, but he looked to be at least a stronger than last he saw him.
"Just Jon, Sam." He told Sam with a smile.
"What do you want, boy?" Joer asked much more firmly.
"A l-letter." He fumbled in his hands a white letter, presenting it to Jon as soon as he got a firm grip upon it. "From King Robb."
Just like he never got used to being referred to as Lord Stark, he couldn't get used to Robb being a King. It was hard to compare the stories of his brother to what he remembered of him. Then again, it was hard to compare the life they once had to the one they were living now.
"Thank you, Sam." Taking the letter, Jon opened it, his eyes flickering across the parchment as a smile slowly came upon his face. 'Though maybe with this, I can finally start to return things to normal.'
"Good news, Lord Stark?" Joer asked and upon realising he wasn't alone and who just exactly he would have to convince now, made his smile slowly slip away.
"Hopefully." Jon turned to Joer with a firm look upon his face. "I need to go beyond the Wall."
Theon cautiously followed behind Torren Liddle and Greatjon as they walked through the camp of Mountain Clansmen. He was honestly surprised to find so many still alive, he had thought that all were killed in Winterfell by the Bolton's. It was why everyone had been so shocked, not only had the Bolton's suddenly rebelled, but with six hundred men wiped out a defending force of a thousand with what seemed too little to no casualties on their end.
But it seems that wasn't the case. 'They must have been caught off-guard and scattered by the Bolton's.' Looking around, Theon would wager that there was a good few hundred men here which led credence to his thoughts.
"Lord Umber." Stepping out of a tent, a muscular man plated in armour of the House Stark guards stepped out, Theon recognised the man instantly as Hallis Mollen, son and heir to House Mollen. And just like he recognised Hallis, he recognised Theon. "Traitor!" The man spat, drawing his blade, but Greatjon stepped in the way.
"Now, we'll 'ave none a that yet. The cunt helped ma escape from the Ironborn and he knows a way into Winterfell." Greatjon muttered and Hallis seethed, glaring hatefully at Theon as the men around them tensed. Theon honestly feared that Hallis or some other soldier would ignore Greatjon's words and attack, but they didn't. They never let go of their weapons, but they didn't make any more moves towards him. "So, who are ye?"
"Hallis Mollen, Captain of the Stark Household guard." Hallis muttered angrily, his failure in Winterfell still burned him, his blood boiling as he thought about it.
"Then what the fuck happened?!"
"The Bolton's." Hallis ground his teeth. "They came to us under the guise of helping and Lady Stark ordered us to let them in. We believed they were here to reinforce us. Then they attacked us, slaughtered around two hundred men before we knew what was happening. After that it was chaos, I tried to rally a defence but the Bolton's they just scattered us. I only survived because Torren Liddle dragged me to safety."
Greatjon and Theon looked to the gnarled figure of Torren, the man had certainly seen better days. "How many men ye lost?"
"In Winterfell we had a thousand, about six hundred were scattered with the remaining four hundred killed or captured. After that, me and Torren gathered around four hundred of the six hundred that escaped. But we got reinforced about a week ago by three hundred Smallfolk. All of them refused to bow to the Bolton's threats of harming the Starks and came to us instead." Hallis explained.
The silence that followed was deafening.
They had only seven hundred men to face off against the rebel force of ten times that number. Certainly not very good odds.
"The plan?" Torren questioned simply after a moments silence.
"I won't lie to ye lads, it ain't pretty one." Greatjon sighed out, but a smirk came to his face. "But we'll make the cunts pay!" There seemed to be more than few that were pleased with that news.
The Wildling camp was much like he had expected in some respects, but different in others. Makeshift tents that looked like a strong wind could blow them over, large number of fires burning to keep people warm, snow everywhere and Wildlings sharpening crudely forged weapons. Each of them rising to their feet and glaring, some even snarling at them threateningly.
Leading the small cavalry contingent, Jon ignored them all and instead looked behind him at the warriors who had chosen to accompany him. His trusted friend, Owen Norrey was there, his gaze sharp and his hand resting on his axe in preparation. There was even his friend Eddison along with numerous Brothers of the Nights Watch and soldiers of the North.
In total more than fifty men had accompanied him, a small number in comparison to the one hundred thousand strong horde the Wildlings had brought. Though due to the sheer size of their horde, Jon couldn't get a good estimate on just how accurate that number was.
Hearing loud, thunder steps that shook the ground and branches snapping, they looked to the side to see a large foot land on the ground. "Fucking hell!" Owen Norrey cursed, watching as a Giant walked towards them, his large strides eating up the ground between them in a few moments.
Many of his guardsmen, began drawing their weapons, but this in turn made the Wildlings raise their own weapons threateningly. And as the Giant came into full view nearly fourteen feet tall in height.
In response their horses neighed and bucked, taking the entourage time to calm them. In that time, the Wildlings laughed and jeered.
"What brings you to our camp, Jon Snow?" A voice called, the man in question turning to see a man he recognised, Mance Ryder. As soon as the name was uttered a sudden shift amongst the Wildlings, a tenseness, a coldness, an anger, a fearful tint to it.
"It's Jon Stark." He replied shortly, ignoring the strange reaction of the Wildlings. "And I've come to negotiate."
Mance chuckled. "Negotiate. You may be a legitimised bastard, but you don't hold any weight to your name. You can say all you wish, make promises that you can't keep, but at the end of the day my people are coming south of the Wall, no matter what."
"I'm very much aware that you have no intentions of stopping your march south." More and more Wildlings came towards them. Staying a few meters away, but their positioning was nonetheless a threatening action. "However, you're mistaken, I do hold authority to negotiate, not only as Jon Stark, Lord of Moat Cailin and its surrounding lands but also through the authority given to me by my brother, King Robb Stark."
There was a moment of silence before Mance laughed once more.
"King Robb Stark?" Mance questioned dubiously. "The boys a fool who's probably bitten off more than he can chew and is coming to us to save him. I remember when you and Robb were boys, playing pranks, you expect me to believe that this is real."
This made more than a few members of his entourage slightly draw their weapons at the insult given to their King. Jon however, remained calm. "What I'm telling you is the truth, Mance Ryder. My father and sisters were held captive in Kings Landing by the Lannisters after Robert Baratheon's death. My brother marched south with an army to defeat the Lannisters and he has done so. The Lannisters are now camped at Kings Landing with their tails between their legs."
Here Jon's smirk widened, a subtle warning to Mance and the Wildlings.
"My brother has the loyalty of the Lords of the North and the Riverlands as well as Lords of the Westerlands. Combined with the loyalty of the Lords of the Reach my brother commands an army over a hundred thousand strong, each battle-hardened and bloodied. How many warriors do you have?"
"Look around." A large man with a beard as white as snow proclaimed.
"I am, and I see that this horde of yours doesn't consist purely of warriors, but of women and children as well. How many of them are actually warriors?" Jon pressed. "My brother commands an army purely comprised of one hundred thousand soldiers, well-trained and disciplined with him and the greatest military commanders in Westeros at its head. The moment you march south, you'll be crushed along with the other threats to the North."
Mance didn't speak straight away, instead indicating for Jon to follow him. Coming down from his horse accompanied by Owen he followed after him, giving the order for his entourage to wait.
Walking through the Wildlings, Jon and Owen made their way towards a large tent with elk antlers on top, entering inside after Mance and were offered a seat.
"What you say is true? Your brother has an army of one hundred thousand?"
"It's true." Jon answered, Owen nodding his head in agreement.
"Then why offer me land? You said there were other threats, surely your brother should be capable of dealing with them himself?"
Jon frowned. "The Ironborn invaded us, the Bolton's and Dustin's have risen in rebellion." It was Owen Norrey that spoke first. "The Ironborn have over five thousand men left of their original twenty thousand. The Bolton-Dustin alliance have around nine thousand men. We have over twenty thousand available to us, but we cannot attack the Bolton-Dustin alliance due to them holding Lady Stark and her two youngest sons hostage. As for the Ironborn, we can't move without leaving ourselves exposed."
"And what of Robb Stark?"
Owen continued. "The Lannisters still have ten thousand men camped in King's Landing, to ensure that the Lannister's are finished once and for all, King Robb is continuing the campaign taking it slowly and cautiously. Once he's done..."
"He'll march North and finish off the Bolton-Dustin Rebellion as well as the Ironborn. Also making it impossible for me to come south as you'll all be there waiting." Mance deduced, he was many things, but he wasn't a fool. If what they were saying was true then even if they took the Wall, it wouldn't mean anything. "You want my people to clear up your mess before that happens."
"We want you to prove your worth." Owen stated firmly.
Jon remained, what Mance said was true. He was given the task of protecting the North by Robb and he had failed. Jon didn't know the full details of what was happening in the south but he knew that reinforcements wouldn't be arriving anytime soon. He needed the Wildlings and the horde, as untrained as they were it would provide much needed men to help remove the Ironborn threat from the North leaving only the Bolton's and Dustin's remaining.
"We're offering you land in the North; all you have to do is recognise Robb as the true King of Westeros and help me deal with the Ironborn and the rebels. The land will be yours; the Free Folk will have land south of the Wall and you won't have to go to war with entirety of Westeros to get it. And you get safety from the true dangers that lie beyond the Wall." Jon continued.
Both Owen and Mance pausing while the former looked entirely lost to the meaning, the latter knew what he was saying.
"It's a good deal, take it. If you don't, you know there's only one way it will end." It was Mance Ryder this time that frowned in thought.
"Why did you tell him that the Lannister's only had ten thousand men?" Jon asked as they entered through the gates of the Wall. Owen beside him as they trotted into Castle Black.
"Because if he knew that the Lannister's were still a serious threat and could possibly defeat your brother. Then he would never agree to the terms." Owen replied, both looking to see Joer Mormont, Allister Thorne and a number of the members of the Night's Watch walking towards them.
"How did it go?" Joer asked as the gate closed behind Jon and his entourage. Jon dismounted, handing the reigns to his horse to his squire. All around Jon could see many members of the Nights Watch looking at him with looks of suspicion and even anger, none more so than Allister Thorne. But something seemed off.
"Mance Ryder is considering the terms I have given him. We'll receive an answer within a few days." It's then Jon noticed something as he fully stepped into the courtyard, there were more men than he remembered and many he didn't recognise. But most of all were the flags, flags denoting to the Houses of the Stormlands.
It was then the men in front of him parted and an equally large entourage walked towards him. One of the most eye-catching figures was the beautiful woman with dark red hair, unnerving red eyes, clad in deep red clothes and cloak with some kind of necklace around her neck. But in front of her, leading the entourage was Stannis Baratheon.
"Jon Stark, I thank you for saving me the trouble of negotiating with the Free Folk." Stannis said. "Now, bend the knee and swear fealty to me."
There was a tenseness in the air, Jon and Stannis staring at one another. "I'm afraid I can't do that, King Stannis. I've already sworn loyalty to my brother, the King in the North. A Stark does not break their oaths lightly."
"I am the rightful King!" Stannis snapped. "Your brother is a pretender with no rightful claim to the throne."
"My brother has the loyalty of Lords of the North, the Riverlands, the Reach and the Westerlands. All you have are the lords of the Stormlands and even then, not all of them." Jon shot back. "And we do have claims to Kingship, our ancestors were Kings of Winter long before the Baratheons even existed. My brother has more right to be King than you ever did."
"You will burn for your treachery!" Axell Florent cursed, swords were drawn and tensions rang high. But Jon and Stannis continued to stare at one another, ignoring the actions of those around them.
There was a tense moment of silence, the Brothers of the Nights Watch watching as Jon and Stannis' entourage drew their weapons in preparation for a fight. But this was all averted by three simple words.
"Let them go."
Stannis' words shocked everyone, even Jon was surprised expecting and even preparing to have to fight his way out. But what no one knew was that Stannis was playing the long game, he knew that the Lannister's had fifty thousand men at their disposal, the Dornish were keeping the forty thousand host of Reach soldiers at the Manders occupied and Randall Tarly was still besieging Casterly Rock.
Robb Stark from his last reports was marching upon the Antlers with near thirty thousand men. Defeat would be certain especially if the rumours of Littlefinger being in Vale were anything to go by. With the Lannisters fifty thousand host and the Vale's forty-five thousand strong army, Robb Stark's defeat was no longer a what if.
When that happened, his kingdom would be split apart, each Lord scrambling for power and the North would be alone. That's when Stannis would come in, offering Jon aid in return for his fealty. All it would take was a matter of time and patience.
As Jon moved by, his and many others in his entourage looked to where a young girl was stood, half her left cheek and neck covered in grey and black, cracking and flaking skin. But it was not the girl that drew their gaze, but the man next to her, his face covered in a pattern of red and green squares. The man stood out and as Jon walked past them, the jester looking man with antlers adorned with bells, smiled at him.
Jon didn't know why, but there was something about that man that was just off.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Ramsey watched as the Dustin army exited through the gates of Winterfell giving chase after the small host of the Stark loyalists in the trees. There had been no more than maybe fifty but, Lady Barbrey Dustin had firmly believed there were more hidden away.
She was once a smart woman, but her anger and hatred for the Stark's ran deep. When the Greatjon had stepped out in full view of everyone, taunting Lady Dustin and himself, while he remained calm, Lady Dustin did not. The taunts about her husband proved too much for Barbrey Dustin who mustered as many men as she could to, in her words, "crush the bastards!"
Besides the few hundred Bolton men he had brought with him, the rest of their forces followed the lead of Lady Dustin and chased after the Stark loyalists. It was nothing more than a joke.
Only a few hundred at most – if they were all there which Ramsey highly doubted – against over six thousand men. 'To be surrounded by fools. Don't they realise this is my destiny. I was born to rule the North.' Ramsay thought angrily.
Ramsey had never been one to believe in Gods, much like his father he didn't place trust nor did he base his life around such things like everyone else did. In many ways, he and his father shared many similarities, but they also shared many differences. Much like himself, Roose liked to do everything in his power to expand the influence and control that he possessed. But unlike him, Roose didn't do it purely for himself, he also did it to expand the power of House Bolton as a whole.
Much like every other Lord and Lady in Westeros, he played the Game of Thrones not just for himself, but for his House as well. A weakness that Ramsey did not share because he was destined for more.
Back when the War of Five Kings began, before Robb Stark became King, Ramsay had been out hunting when he had been visited by a Raven. It had been a stubborn creature and followed Ramsey back to the Dreadfort. That night he had been plagued with dreams, dreams of him not only become Lord Bolton, he also saw himself ruling as Lord of the North and then being crowned King, the bodies of Direwolves at his feast and the raven upon his shoulder.
He knew then what he was destined for.
Roose had suggested a simple plan, one that was in keeping with Ramsey's own destiny. They'd play the part of loyal subjects to Robb Stark, earn his favour and gain a position amongst his inner circle, then depending on how the war went, they would either remain loyal or betray the Starks to the Lannisters.
That had proved harder than initially planned, Robb Stark seemed to have suspected his father of treachery from the very beginning. This was further proof to Ramsey that Roose was not fit to lead.
But of course, Robb Stark seemed to be unstoppable and his father had considered abandoning his plans to betray the Starks. However, he knew that he'd never earn any form of recognition or reward that would be worth all the effort he had taken. So Roose continued to play both sides, helping Robb achieve his ambitions in ways that would result in heavy casualties and providing the Lannisters with information.
By that point, Ramsey was no longer willing to play to his father's game and decided to make his own decisions from now. Roose had proved unfit and it was now his turn to rule House Bolton.
The first thing he did was reach out to Lady Dustin, her distaste for the Starks, mainly Eddard was well-known considering the former Lord Stark had only brought back her husband's steed and not his remains. The alliance wasn't easy to forge considering he had killed his half-brother and Lady Dustin's nephew, Domeric Bolton. However, it was so very easy to convince her that it was nothing more than false rumours.
Whether she believed him or not, he didn't care, he already had plans to remove her and take control of her men for himself.
He'd been busy drawing in men to the Dreadfort when news had reached him of Torrhen's Square being attacked by the Ironborn. Rodrik Cassel had left to attack them with three thousand men to relieve the seat of House Tallhart. When the reports of Rodirk losing nearly half of his men reached him, Ramsay had set out with the six hundred men that he could trust out of the near three thousand men he had gathered at the Dreadfort.
His aim was to arrive at Winterfell and secure Lady Catelyn Stark who had recently arrived along with the Stark Princes, Brandon and Rickon. With them Rodrik would be at his mercy as well as the other Northern houses.
Though things hadn't gone exactly as he had expected.
When Victarion had attacked with his force, first five thousand later reinforced by a further five thousand, Rodrik had barely escaped with his life and only a few hundred men. It had been easy to predict where he was and annihilated the force before moving onto Winterfell.
There everything seemed like it should fall into place, except they didn't.
The Lords of the North refused his demands to bend the knee and only over a thousand Smallfolk answered his call to arms. But the upside was that the Northern lords couldn't do anything and the dreams still continued, changed though this time. Instead, he now found himself killing a crowned Direwolf and taking the crown for himself.
And as he watched Lady Dustin continue to charge towards the tree line, Ramsay smirked viciously.
"Ye ready, lad?" Greatjon asked, gripping his longsword in one hand, he looked to Hallis Mollen. Behind them, the full army that Hallis had gathered prepared themselves, most hidden away in the forests. The sun was setting so the full total of their numbers was hidden which worked to their advantage.
And as the rebel army moved towards them, the cavalrymen taking the lead as they galloped forwards, the infantry and even archers following a little further behind, Greatjon gave a roar. It pierced through the silent night and was echoed by the cheers of men behind him.
Birds scattered in fright and as the cavalrymen charged forwards towards them, spearmen rushing forwards.
There was a clash as the cavalry smashed into them.
Dozens died on both sides, some being trampled under horses or cut down by the knights. Others were flipped off their impaled horses and crushed under them, others stabbed by spears and knocked off their horses. And from the tree lines, hundreds of men rushed forwards and into the bloody clash that had erupted.
It was a brutal fight that despite being outnumbered, showed that the Greatjon and his forces had the upper hand. But the infantry closed in behind them, growing ever closer as they did.
"Now, sound the horn!" Greatjon shouted, swinging his sword round and cutting deep into a horse killing it. Its rider fell down and Lord Umber followed it up with a thrust that pierced through his heart. "Now, lad!"
Hallis pulled the horn from his hip and raised it to his lips.
Taking a deep breath, he released all his breath creating a dull sound of winter to fill the air. And as the infantry closed in, suddenly near two thousand men turned, drawing their weapons on former comrades and cutting through them.
Each of these were Smallfolk that had answered the Bolton's call to arms. And each of them had been met by men loyal to the Starks in Halli's forces. The plan was almost suicidal in its efforts, but they had rallied to Greatjon's call.
All around the fields outside Winterfell, a large battle erupted. Thousands fought and casualties were rising. The snowy fields turning red with blood and the sound of clashing
steel and cries of dying men.
But as the battle continued, growing bloodier and bloodier, Greatjon noticed the gates of Winterfell opening. Hundreds of men each carrying the flag of House Bolton rode out on horseback. And as they did, the Greatjon felt a smirk coming onto his face. 'Perfect. Now it's all up to ye, squid.'
In the tree-line, Theon and a small group of a dozen men quickly rush, ensuring to keep to the shadows of the trees as they do. Greatjon and his men had already engaged the bulk of the rebel army. The Smallfolk had turned on the Dustin men at arms resulting in a large battle outside the walls of Winterfell.
And just like Theon saw this is an opportunity, Ramsey did as well.
He, taking a large portion of the Bolton men at arms exited and went to join the battle. Theon seeing this, led his men round to the west of Winterfell where the Godswood was stationed. There, they quickly rushed across the gap between the tree line and to the walls. Most of the garrison still inside had moved towards the south wall where the battle was taking place.
Plastering his back against the wall, Theon waited for a moment just to make sure they hadn't been seen before using grappling hooks to scale the wall. They scrambled up it, they couldn't afford to be slow.
Even with the Smallfolk helping Greatjon, they were still outnumbered over two to one. And over fifteen hundred of their soldiers had the bare minimum of training.
The chances of victory were slim.
The chances of defeat were high.
For them, speed was the key. They needed to get in and out with Catelyn, Bran and Rickon before the Bolton's and Dustin's returned.
Climbing over the wall, Theon and his men crouched down on the battlements to make sure they hadn't been spotted. After making sure they were in the clear, they jumped down into the moat and swam across to the second wall.
"Damnit, she's not here." Theon cursed, he and his men breaking into the bedchamber formerly belonging to Lord Stark. This is where they had believed Lady Stark to be considering she was Ramsey's wife. But that wasn't the case as they looked around at the empty chamber.
"Where?" One of the clansmen asked with their limited grasp of Westerosi language.
"I don't know." Theon answered frustratedly, running one hand through his hair in frustration. Their group had split in two the moment they exited the Godswood. One pair had headed into the courtyard which was empty and then to the Guest House. There they were to move down, checking the Library Tower just in case.
Theon and his group on the other hand moved further east beyond the Armoury. They split off into smaller groups, some checking the Guards Hall, the First Keep, the Great Keep, the Sept and even the Great Hall.
He had gone to the Great Keep and he found nothing.
Moving to the window, he looked out over Winterfell, and saw those that had come with him gathering by the Armoury, no Bran, Rickon or Catelyn in sight. "Damnit, the Bolton's must have been lying. There's nowhere else to keep them."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Theon had only a moment to turn around before a fist slammed into his face. He could feel his nose breaking upon impact and Theon let out a cry as he stumbled backwards. His hands reached out, gripping the edge of the window stopping him from falling out, but when the same clansmen kicked him in the chest his grip proved to be too loose.
With a cry, he fell from the window and felt the wind rush around him. His hands reached out, grasping for nothing but air in a reflexive movement as he futilely tried to stop his fall.
And as he did, the muddy ground rushed to meet him.
With a taunting cry, Greatjon swung his sword down, smashing into the shield of a Dustin soldier who attempted to block the swing. The force behind the blow knocked his shield down and the Greatjon came down once more with a swing that cut deeply into his neck, nearly decapitating the man.
"Come on, ye fuckers!" Greatjon roared, all around the battle erupting fully as he looked round with a bloody smile upon his face.
Again and again his blade swung round, each blow leading to or being a killing blow as he cut a bloody path through the rebel army. The Smallfolk around him echoed his war-cry and despite being largely untrained, swung their swords and thrust their spears to try and match the ferocity and savagery of the Lord Umber.
It was a brutal battle and there seemed to be no end in sight despite how much the Stark Loyalists were outnumbered.
Feeling a blade pierce his side, Greatjon let out a groan of pain, turning to see a Dustin knight stood there. "Got you now, Greatjon!" Beron, captain of Lady Dustin's personal guard proclaimed with a smirk upon his face.
However, instead of dying, Greatjon reached out and gripped Beron by his throat. "Yer wrong, ye dumb cunt." Again, the bloodthirsty smile come onto his face as he tightened his grip on both his longsword and on Beron's neck. "I've got ye!" And Beron couldn't even let out a cry as the Greatjon swung his blade round and down onto him
The blade cut deeply, cutting straight through armour and all the way down to his hip.
With a final kick, Greatjon ripped his blade free, swinging round and cutting through one man only to have a spear to come from his right side this time and pierce into his flesh. Another two came soon after, piercing through his front.
But even with this, the Greatjon didn't stop and swung his blade round killing all three spearmen. And as he looked at the spears in his stomach, the Greatjon laughed before charging into the battle once more. His blade swung fast and in wide sweeping strikes that send blood and limbs flying into the air.
Then, he swung his blade down onto a Dustin man at arms and luckily for the man, the Greatjon's sword snapped. Even so he let out a cry of pain as his shoulder pad dented and a sickening pop sounded as his arm came out of its socket.
This cry was soon silenced as the Greatjon used his broken blade to stab the man through his neck.
Stepping away, he noticed a group of men closing in on him, as if recognising he was weapon less and therefore less of a threat. They obviously didn't know who the Lord of Last Hearth was.
The man reached down, gripping two of the spears sticking out of his chest and with nary a grunt, pulled them free, blood rushing out of the holes in his body. But he ignored it and instead with one step, throw both spears across the distance between him and the approaching men.
One pierced through a man, making him fold round it and fly backwards a short distance.
Another skewered one man and then pierced into another behind him.
And as the Greatjon pulled out the final spear and Beron's blade from his side. He met the charge of the approaching enemy with a smile upon his face. This was his final moments, he recognised that instantly.
"The King in the North!"
But he would make it a glorious one.
Theon didn't know how long he laid there for.
His body felt numb, his vision blurry and the world around him seemed to spin constantly. The fall had been short, but the landing painful. Everything hurt and he just laid there, even when the clansmen came down from the Great Keep, they noticed he was still alive, but did nothing.
They just rushed past him.
And he just continued to lay there, even as those who came from the Sept and the Great Hall rushed past him a few moments later.
Perhaps it was right after that, or maybe a little later, Theon didn't know, but he started moving. Slowly, turning onto his front, grasping the muddy ground in shaking fists and just crawling along the ground, dragging himself to safety.
It was as he reached the Guards Hall, that Theon braced himself against it, slowly pushing himself to his feet. But it was also in that moment that he could hear the sound of soldiers shouting to, "open the gates!" He didn't need to look to know that the Greatjon had been defeated and Ramsey was returning.
Even if it wasn't Ramsey, Theon knew his fate would be the same either way.
And as he leaned against the wall, groaning out as his ribs protested. He looked to the north, seeing the opening to the First Keep that led to the Broken Tower and the Crypts. Without even a moment's hesitation, Theon pushed off the wall and limped as fast as he could.
He never stopped nor did he look back.
He just kept his gaze locked onto the Crypts where he would hide.
And as he reached the Crypt, he took one look behind him to see no one there before sneaking down into it. However, the moment he entered down he heard shuffling. Panicking, he gripped the handle of his blade, but never shouted, never said anything in fear of alerting the Bolton's and Dustin's to his presence.
It was only when he caught a flash of red a little further down the Crypt as the figure moved further away from him that Theon truly froze in shock. "Lady Stark!" He whispered and the there was a moment of silence before a fingerless hand came from around the corner of a statue. Then Catelyn Stark looked around, her eyes instantly widening in shock before narrowing in anger.
But she never rushed to him and when he instead moved towards her, it was she that cowered away.
However, Theon couldn't say anything.
It was just a brief flash, the light fully illuminating her face and Theon felt his heart drop. The relationship between he and Catelyn had never been good, but it had never been bad either. She had ignored him much like he had ignored her.
Yet the scars and marks upon her once beautiful face was horrifying to behold and he almost thought it was a trick of the light.
That was until she truly stepped out from around the statue of the Stark ancestor and into the light and Theon felt the words, he had been about to speak get stuck in his throat. 'My God, what have they done to you?'
The once beautiful face of Catelyn truly was disfigured beyond belief. Numerous deep cuts that revealed the bone of her cheeks. The left side of her mouth was fully split open as revealing teeth and gums. Her nose was missing and one eye was gone leaving only a black hole where it once was. Clumps of her red hair were gone as were her fingers.
Theon breathed heavily, in fear of what he was beholding.
"Theon." She hissed, her voice whistling as a result of the opening in her mouth. "Traitor!"
And as she moved towards him, Theon moved away in fear. The visage of Catelyn's disfigured face scrunching up was horrifying and his feet tripped over themselves in his attempt to move away.
As he lay on the ground, groaning in pain, Catelyn came upon him. "Kill me!"
"W-w-what?" He stuttered out in fear as the stubs that were once her fingers trailed along his cheeks.
"Kill me!" She hissed once more. "I can't have this child!"
Theon's already wide eyes opened wider, his gaze flickering down to her stomach and no longer distracted by her disfigurement, he noticed a noticeable bulge in her stomach. And as he did, his breath got caught in his throat once more.
"What's wrong, traitor! You had no problem betraying my son! No problem invading the North and killing countless men, women and children!" Catelyn snarled. "You had no problem defeating Lord Umber and the bastard! So, kill me!"
Theon eventually found his voice. "I-I can't. I promised myself I'd get you, Bran and Rickon out of here, back to Robb."
Catelyn laughed shortly, it was a broken sound, lacking everything that could be considered a laugh, but there was no denying what it was meant to be. "Don't tell me you believe you're doing this for Robb?" She mocked. "You have always been selfish and this is no different. You betrayed Robb for yourself and now you betray your family for yourself."
Theon said nothing, just watching as Catelyn with her fingerless hands, squeezed her palms together, trapping the hand that was holding his dagger. He didn't do anything, just allowed her palms to guide his hand to his stomach.
Sitting quietly, Jason Mallister read over the letter in his hand with a measure of interest. The news in the north didn't seem to be getting any better, nor did the news in the south. His King was marching with a host of less than thirty thousand men to defeat the Lannister host of fifty thousand. But despite those odds, Jason had trust that his King would prevail.
But one of their biggest threats to secure the south, Stannis Baratheon was now in the north and at the Wall. The plan to invite the Wildlings south of the Wall in return for aid was a good plan and one that would have been of great aid to them. But if Stannis got them then it would be dangerous.
Luckily, Jon had been allowed to go free which was a curiosity in of itself, but one he wasn't going to take for granted. Stannis had from Jon had estimated was roughly twenty thousand men. Even if the one hundred thousand strong horde of Wildlings joined him, Jon had also estimated that only maybe ten to twenty thousand were fighters.
This was certainly good news for Lord Mallister who despite the situation, could definitely see this situation working out for them.
Already ravens had been sent out telling all those west of the Northern Mountains, men women and children to move to Deepwood Motte where they would be sailed across to Mormont's Keep. Meanwhile all those east of the Northern Mountains were to move towards Karhold.
Would this leave the centre of the North completely open to Stannis? Yes, it would but that was the plan. Their aim was to strengthen their garrisons at Karhold and Mormont's Keep to the point that Stannis would have no choice other than to move down lest he spends weeks if not months sieging a single castle. This would be something that Stannis as a strategical master he was, would avoid as much as possible.
All because Stannis would leave himself exposed to possible attacks by the Ironborn, the Bolton-Dustin rebels and even Stark Loyalists. These were things that Stannis could not afford and this meant that just like the North had been for the past few weeks, would remain in a stalemate.
Neither side could move without leaving themselves exposed to the other.
It was not a good thing for either side, expect for theirs. So long as Stannis, the Bolton-Dustins or the Ironborn could not move meant extra time for Robb to secure the south and march North to give them aid.
Suddenly the door opened and in stepped Jonos Bracken, behind him four other men. "Lord Mallister, we have a clansmen here claiming he was with the Greatjon on his attack at Winterfell." Lord Mallister frowned, Lord Umber's attack upon Winterfell was one of the most infuriating things to happen in recent weeks.
A noble and glorious death it may have been for the Lord of Last Hearth but if the attack had proved successful then Catelyn Stark and her children would have been killed as a last act of defiance. Hell, they could even send out body parts of them as a threat to them much like Ramsey had reportedly sent back a gift to Robb early on. No one knew what was in the bag, its contents something Robb kept a tightly kept secret, but the fact he had been thrown into a rage as a result of it was one that proved that the Stark family had already been hurt.
The Greatjon's action may prove to be the catalyst to bring them further harm.
"Speak." Lord Mallister demanded, looking at the man clad in thick furs.
"I don't think he can, not properly anyway, took us a while to figure out what he was saying." Jonos Bracken informed.
Jason ignored him and looked to the clansmen, demanding an answer. "Greatjon attack." The clansmen began and Lord Mallister began to realised what Jonos was saying. Their grasp of the language seemed limited and their accent incredibly thick. "Sneak in. Find the Neds woman, children. No."
Jason took a few moments to try and decipher what he was told. "You were part of the Greatjon's attack, yes?" The clansmen nodded his head. "You sneaked in? Where did you sneak in? The Bolton-Dustin Camp?"
"No." The clansmen shook his head. "Winterfell."
"Winterfell? Lady Stark, Prince Bran, Prince Rickon where they there? Did you find them?" The man shook his head. "No, they weren't there?"
"No there." The clansmen said once more. "Look everywhere."
As the man spoke, Lord Mallister felt his smile grow. "You searched everywhere, but couldn't find them." The clansmen nodded his head and laughed out loud. "See to it that this man is provided a reward, a comfortable bed and food."
As the door closed behind them, Lord Bracken let out a frustrated sigh. "Fucking Boltons, had us thinking they had Lady Stark and the Princes when they had nothing."
"Lord Bracken, the past is the past, all we can do now is look to the future." Clasping his hands together, Lord Mallister looked out over the marshlands surrounding the ancient stronghold of the First Men. "I want Lord Vance to march west with two thousand men and take Flint's Finger. Meanwhile, you're to take two thousand men and meet with Wyman Manderly and the host of two thousand men he's gathered. You're to sail up the river and take Castle Cerwyn."
"That's very close to Winterfell." Jonos noted, but he didn't seem bothered by that fact at all.
"Yes, I want the Boltons and Dustins to know that now that their leverage is gone by camping right next door to them." Jonos chuckled.
"Looking forward to it."
Flags flapped in the whistling wind.
Men stood firm, breathing evenly as they stood side by side to one another. Rows upon rows, thousands upon thousands of men each standing side by side as they stared ahead of them.
And each of them listened to the clinking of metal and sound of armoured footsteps in the distance.
Atop the hill stationed behind the thousands of men laid out in formation beneath him, Robb stood at his command base, surrounded by his personal guards and others as he looked into the distance. And there, he saw the flag with a golden lion upon a red background. Then as the flag rose higher and higher into the air, men clad in gold and red armour were seen marching up the Kingsroad.
'So you're finally here, Tywin.' Robb thought, clenching his fist around the handle of his blade. 'Good, lets get this over with.'
"What are your orders, your grace?" Ser Garlan asked.
Robb looked down at the formation of his army in thought. His formation for now was simple, he didn't know what formation his enemy would arrive in nor did he have a feel for Tywin's tactics. They hadn't engaged in battle at all and while he had predicted that Tywin would abandon Harrenhall and move south to liberate Kings Landing.
But that was entirely different.
This would be the first battle between he and Tywin and he needed to be careful. So he had positioned his army in a traditional formation that was standard for many armies. His force consisted of near thirty thousand men.
He had five hundred men, each mounted on horses kindly gifted by the various houses of the Crownlands stationed at his base as reserves. His eight thousand strong cavalry was split in two, half under the command of Ser Brynden Blackfish on the left side of the hill, the remainder on the right under the command of Lord Marq Piper.
His infantry numbered fifteen thousand in total.
Six thousand were stationed under the command of Lord Rickard Karstark in the centre. Behind them, two thousand archers were stationed under the command of Lady Maege Mormont.
To the right, five thousand infantrymen were station under the command Lord Gregor Forrester with one thousand archers under the command of Lord Galbart Glover.
To the left, four thousand men under the command of Lord Tytos Blackwood with Wylis Manderly having three thousand archers under his command.
And as Tywin and his army marched forwards, Robb remained calm.
"Your grace?" Ser Garlan asked once more.
"Remain calm, Garlan." Robb replied. "Let Tywin come to us. We're in no rush to fight him, its he who will have to make the first move. He'll run out of food long before we will, if he chooses to wait then that is his decision. He will be forced to make the first move and we will be ready. Send a message to all commanders, do not engage unless given the command."
Hesitant, Garlan bowed his head.
'Now, what will you do, Lannister?' Robb wondered.
"The Young Wolf has already prepared for us." Lord Roland Crakehall noted as the Lannister army came to a halt upon the fields. They had expected this of course and after coming within a few miles of the Antlers had shifted into battle formations and marched all the way here in formation just preparing for them. "I suggest we wait, my lord."
"I agree, my lord." Lord Myatt spoke up. "We don't know what traps the Young Wolf has prepared for us. It would be best to check for traps just in case."
Tywin was silent momentarily, staring across the field towards the Stark army, almost as if looking directly at Robb Stark. "Send in the vanguard." He eventually answered, shocking his fellow commanders.
"W-what, but my lord?" Lord Yarwyck muttered.
Even as his lords scrambled to understand what was happening and why Tywin had given such a command. The soldiers of his command base raised a flag into the air and a thousand strong vanguard broke off from the centre force, moving forwards towards the enemy army.
"Lord Tywin, please reconsider this course of action." Lord Myatt begged. "The Young Wolf will have surely prepared traps, if we're not careful we could lose vast swaths of our army before the main battle even begins."
"The vanguard is comprised mostly of Smallfolk. Over a third of our army is comprised of them. They are expendable." Tywin callously spoke.
And he said no more.
As soon as he silently watched the vanguard charge, they too went silent, unsure of what else to say and too afraid to say it.
"What is Lord Karstark doing?!" Ser Brienne asked from his side, but Robb didn't answer, continuing to watch the two thousand men led by Lord Slate intercept the one thousand strong vanguard of the Lannisters.
He could understand why, sending two thousand men to deal with one thousand was not the smartest decision in most cases. But the person leading the Lannister vanguard was the Mountain That Rides. That man had proved in the Battle of Stony Septs that his presence alone could inspire men, either out of fear or awe to fight harder. Sending two thousand men was a safe decision and one Robb Stark wholeheartedly agreed with.
"I want the flanks moving forwards. I want a rider dispatched to Lord Karstark informing him that the centre is to remain where it is." Robb ordered firmly, never tearing his gaze away from the Lannister army. Even as the vanguard forces clashed in the centre of the field between their two armies and the two flanks of his army moved forwards, he never once took his gaze off them.
And just like he expected, the Lannisters flanked marched forwards in response to his own.
Seeing this, Robb allowed a smirk to come across his face. 'That's it, Old Lion. Roar to the world like all lions do and walk into the wolfs den.'
So here we are, another chapter, Jon attempts to negotiate with the Wildlings and while it seems successful, he is then met by Stannis Baratheon who has arrived but senses something off with a jester-like figure. He then begins evacuating men to Mormont Keep and Karhold. Greatjon and Hallis Mollen lead an attack upon the Bolton's and Dustin's while Theon and a few men sneak into Winterfell. All this leads to is nothing and Theon is betrayed by the Mountain Clansmen that came with him.
While the Greatjon dies, Theon crawls into the crypts where he meets a scarred and disfigured Catelyn Stark who had escaped from the Great Keep. Lord Mallister learns of what happened at Winterfell namely the fact that Catelyn, Bran and Rickon aren't there and makes moves to put pressure on the rebels.
Down in the south however, Robb and Tywin begin their great battle.
So let's have a brief look at army compositions:
Robb's Army (Total – 117,000 men).
- Antler's Army (King Robb Stark) – 29,500 men.
- Manders Army (Lord Mace Tyrell) – 40,000 men.
- Siege of Casterly Rock (Lord Randall Tarly) – 23,000 men.
- Siege of Flint's Finger (Lord Karyl Vance) – 2,000 men.
- Moat Cailin Army (Lord Jason Mallister) – 2,500 men.
- Siege of Castle Cerwyn (Lord Jonos Bracken) – 4,000 men.
- Mormont's Keep Army (Castellan Alysene Mormont) – 5,000 men.
- Karhold Army (Lord Jon Stark) – 5,000 men.
- Northern Reinforcements (N/A) – 6,000 men.
Tywin's Army (Total – 50,000 men).
- Antlers Army (Lord Tywin Lannister) – 48,000 men.
- ~Golden Company Reinforcements (N/A) – 2,000 men.
Dornish Army (Total – 20,000 men).
- Princes Pass Army (Prince Oberyn Martell) – 20,000 men.
Stannis' Army (Total – 20,000 men).
- Wall Army (King Stannis Baratheon) – 20,000 men.
Ramsey's Army (Total – 6,000 men).
- Winterfell Army (Lord Ramsey Bolton) – 4,000 men.
- Dreadfort Army (N/A) – 2,000 men.
Balon's Army (Total – 6,500 men).
- Ironrath Army (N/A) - 1,000 men.
- Torrhen's Square Army (Victarion Greyjoy) - 5,000 men.
- Stony Shores Army (Asha Greyjoy) - 500 men.
Mance Ryder's Army (Total - N/A).
- Beyond the Wall Army (King Mance Ryder) – N/A.
And now, onto the questions:
Black' Victor Cachat: Yep it's a risky manoeuvre and one that hopefully will be a little more simplified. Mance isn't stupid and in the books it's showed that the total number of fighters in his horde was only around a quarter of that number. He knows the might of the North, but as we know, now Stannis is at the Wall and Jon is retreating to Karhold. But you're right, it could have great or ramifications or boons to the North.
And you're right, Doran's a sneaky little bastard.
roxasghifari: Won't answer that as it's spoilers.
Force Smuggler: No comment on the one true king.
Warrior19: Oh I'm very much aware and Theon's fate isn't over yet. People got onto me that Theon was going to get a really shit redemption arc and that he doesn't deserve one and said my fic was shit because of it, he's not and I never said he would. His suffering is nowhere near complete yet and he still needs to pay for his crimes and the Lords of the North want blood.
