Warning: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, nor this Story.
This story deserves to be available for readers to read. This Story was removed, it deserved to be available, Original Author is Blackwolf2019 as i don't own this story or its work.
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Chapter 9: Winterfell is mine
Hope you all enjoy! Feel free tae comment as always!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Jon
Winterfell had been restored. That was clear. The signs of the sack and the flames that went with it were gone. Jon had never seen Winterfell in that state of ruin. His bannermen had told him though what had been done to the Capital of the North. Looking at it now, Jon wouldn't have known that it had been taken by Theon Greyjoy. He wouldn't have known that the Boltons had sacked it. Jon could see the great towers, all in their prime, even those that had turned to ruin. The large imposing keeps, designed to keep all of its inhabitants warm It was home⦠Covered in the banners of Bolton. The sight of the flayed men on Winterfell's walls was more than enough for Jon to slaughter any Boltons where they stood.Let me drown them in their own blood.Jon would control himself in the parley that had been offered by a messenger, sent towards the Wolfswood, where his army lay waiting. Jon and the riders, Mors Umber and Tormund Giantsbane at his side, slowly approached the small group of Horsemen waiting on the moors, holding Bolton banners. Jon and Ghost snarled in unison at the sight as they approached.
As the horses came to a halt, Jon looked straight at the smiling man in the centre of the group. He was ugly, pale skin littered with red rashes. His smile looked off, with teeth mixed in colour, and lips that looked like worms. His eyes were an eyrie pale. His bearing was cocky, as if he ruled the world. The man was adorned in Bolton colours.Ramsay Snow, the bastard that sacked Winterfell.He was accompanied by three others, one in Umber colours,Whoresbane,with the same eyes every man and woman of the first men had given him, studying him. Then there was a man in Ryswell colours, looking uncomfortably at Ghost, and a woman in the Dustin colours. She was looking at him oddly, almost wistfully. That look vanished the moment Ramsay began.
"Ah, if it isn't the bastard of Winterfell in the flesh. The Great stain of House Stark. An Oath breaker and a deserter of the Watch! It's such a pleasure to meet you bastard. Have you come to bring my bride to me? Me and my Father have been most worried about Lady Arya's safety."
The bastard's a fool."Have you and Lord Bolton accepted my offer?"
Ramsay looked slightly confused, still giving that ugly smile, "You mean you were serious about single combat?! Ha! That had amused us all to no end, a desperate attempt from a bastard that knows he can't win a battle with an army of wildlings and traitors against the North! It had even made my father laugh!"
Jon looked at him through Ghost's eyes for a moment, using his wolf's senses. His Direwolf didn't like his smell, he would spit him out when he was done tearing him to pieces.A pathetic piece of prey.Jon smiled, baring his teeth.
"Then I'll see you and the army of the North tomorrow."
He turned his horse and began to ride back with his escort. The bastard shouted at him.
"Is that it bastard? I wonder why my father even wants us to fight you tomorrow on the field. Your army will starve before you even reach our gates in a siege."
Jon stopped his horse, his allies following suit. He looked back at the bastard and laughed as his wolf howled, filling the snowy moors surrounding Winterfell. "Spoken like a true Bastard of Bolton! Craven to the very core!"
Tormund and Mors started to laugh hard.
"Oh, the stories they'll tell, Boltons pissing their breeches as the wolves storm the walls, too craven to meet House Stark in battle!" Mors Bellowed.
Tormund was howling "Har! The Boltons have flayed their own bollocks off!"
Jon kicked his horse, bringing it back into motion as he looked back at the group of Boltons with a savage grin; Ramsay's face redder than his blotches, the Ryswell unnerved, Whoresbane stony and the Dustin woman smiling. Jon was happy,Tomorrow I return home, with Bolton blood covering the Snow. Winterfell is mine bastard. Come and see.
Val
It was snowing in the night as the group finished with the last of their plans, retiring for the night before battle. Val felt confident about it. The Snow was a welcome sight for her. She was at home in the snow, much like all the free folk, and all the North. And it meant a better field for the battle that she knew Jon intended to make. His force was prepared for what was to come on the morn. They'd done a final tally and his army was something close to Twelve Thousand strong. A strong force even though they were likely to be outnumbered by the host at Winterfell. Of the free folk he had some 6000 men and spear wives, and the 200 giants.
Not the full strength of the free folk, the giant clan of 2000 and the women and children of the free folk were still at the wall, waiting for more Free-folk to make it through the wall. And according to Jon, the North could rally some Forty-Five Thousand men given the time. His march and Robb's war in the South did not give him time to truly rally all of the North. Jon had 3500 Clansmen, 500 Umbers, 500 of Alsyane Mormont's bear islanders and Maege Mormont's force of 1000, alongside 300 of Lord Reed's Crannogmen.And Each Bear Islander among them worth ten men if Alsyane's mother is right.Maege's arrival had come with good news that the Moat had been put back under Stark control and that a large portion of Robb Stark's army was guarding it. She watched him smile when she had informed them that they had used some of Robb's plan to take it back. It had tuned into that savage grin when Maege said she was aching for Bolton blood.
"I'll have Roose's leached bollocks on my belt by tomorrow night! And his skull crushed by my Mace"She had announced proudly in the camp, ignoring the lust filled eyes of Tormund.
A woman that might make him want the bear again if he's fool enough to try something with her.Val mused as she walked in the night.
It made Val confident for the fight to come, even if she knew they would be outnumbered. The Boltons had much more time to gather forces than they had. Winterfell made a better position for gathering the North's host according to Jon, who she was watch stroll the camp in the night. He seemed content, albeit restless in the night.What keeps this wolf awake?
"Any reason you're following me in the dark Val?" Jon asked with a small smirk as he turned towards her.
Val smirked back at him, unsurprised that she would have been caught near him.He's got wolf senses now.
"Just wondering what the White Wolf is still doing up while everyone else sleeps. Not nervous for the battle, are you?"
Val smirked as he noticed her tone, playful mocking. Different to how she sounded when he was Lord Commander. Jon shrugged his shoulders at her, keeping his wolfish smirk, "Too eager Val, The Boltons have lived long enough, I look forward to taking my home back."
Val looked at him with her pale blue eyes, staring into those savage grey eyes.
"I hope being in your castle doesn't make you like you were before, acting all like one of Stannis' kneelers. Be a shame to see the White Wolf get tamed and gelded."
Jon raised his eyebrow, stepping slightly closer to her, "Having my home back won't do that to me. I won't be kneeling again."
He lowered his voice as he got a bit closer to her, almost able to touch her honey blonde hair that flowed to her waist, covering her daggers and blade.
"Are you worried? I remember you threatened to geld me Val. Have you changed your mind?"
A Wolf in heat.
Val gave a sly smile at him, "I did Jon, back when you were a Crow and a kneeler, I may still if you don't have a castle to steal me to. You're supposed to take me to your lands."
Jon stared at her lips as she spoke, he practically licked his own as he gave a low growl, "And what makes you think I plan on stealing you Val?"
Val gave a small snort, "I see the way you look at me, you want to rut with me like a wolf. You don't hide it in that wolfish gaze. You won't get me tonight. Not until you take that big castle of yours."
She came in close, she could feel the heat of his breath as she whispered to him, "Even then I'll be the one that steals you."
At that she turned and walked away to her tent, hips swaying with her blonde locks. Val smiled, knowing that Jon stood there for a moment with a low growl escaping his lips as it turned to a grin, piercing through the beard he had grown on the march.He's not the only one that can see out of the back of his head.
Jon
It was snowing lightly as Jon's army formed on the moor, waiting for the Bolton army to leave Winterfell. His forces were mainly foot, with some horse from the Umbers and what he'd taken from Stannis' remaining forces at the wall. Jon wasn't bothered by that in truth. It had been snowing heavy, it would slow any cavalry down on both sides. There would be more cavalry on the Bolton side. Having the castle meant they had less issue keeping larger amounts of horse. They would have larger numbers as well. Jon was ready though, he could feel his blood pumping as he waited. He could feel Ghost's blood going as well; waiting with the majority of the army, hidden in the woods. Waiting until the signal when the Bolton's got cocky, seeing the smaller host. His army was eager too, he could see it in their eyes; that need for vengeance and to spill Bolton and Frey blood. Jon could practically taste the blood that he was about to spill.
Everyone was confident, even if the host would be outnumbered on the battlefield most likely, with Bolton's forces being supported by a significant portion of the North and the Freys. Jon snarled at the thought. It didn't matter, his forces would win. And Whoresbane supports me, I could smell it on him. And strangely enough, he had on the Dustin woman. It was odd, the Dustin woman was a Ryswell by birth from what he'd been told by his banners, and sister of Roose's late wife. They were the most likely to be supporting the Boltons. Jon would trust the instinct though. His father had been right about that. It had been serving well.
"How long until they come?" Laurence asked as the army looked towards the front.
Maege laughed, "The Green Boy's eager for a fight here? Or are you shitting yourself knowing you're going into battle?"
Jon heard Mors and the clansmen start to laugh as well.
Laurence returned the laugh with a grim smile and nod, "Both. I know what the bastard did to my father's wife, My brother's mother."
Morgan Liddle gave a firm slap on Laurence's shoulder, "Don't fear the bastard of Bolton Laurence. Fear dying without giving vengeance to the fuck."
"Fear dying without Bathing in Bolton blood first, without tasting it on your lips for what they've done!" Hugo Wull boomed.
"Fear not living to have another fuck again!" Alsyane grinned, looking at Laurence like a piece of meat.
The lad gulped slightly at that. The Northmen started to laugh harder at it.I wonder if the next Mormont is going to be fathered by a moose.
Their laughter ended when the gates to Winterfell opened. Jon began to watch the Bolton army slowly leave Winterfell and form up opposite him. He snarled at the sight of Bolton and Frey banners, forming at the centre. They weren't the only banners that made up the army. Jon could see the banners of Cerwyn, Tallhart, Flint of Flint's finger, Karstark, Manderly and Umber among other Northern houses. It was a larger host than his own, having had more time to gather forces due to Stannis coming for Winterfell and the keep being designed to hold large quantities of people. Jon noticed that Whoresbane had positioned his forces as far away from where Mors was positioned as possible. Not that Jon planned on his army fighting anyone but Boltons and Freys. From the looking glass he had been given, he could see it was the bastard of Bolton that was to be leading the army. Jon growled at the sight of him, looking smug, as if his victory was assured.
You first Ramsay, then your King slaying father.
Both armies stood still, both sides completely silent as it snowed lightly. It was the first time that two Northern armies were fighting against each other. The last time that had happened was when the Boltons had rebelled. This would be their final rebellion. Jon grinned at the thought, turning his body towards his army.
"There are Freys in the North! They gave our kin a warm welcome at their home! I think we should give them one in return!"
Jon watched as his army began to give grins almost as savage as him. Then he heard the drums begin, and with it the voices of thousands of Northerners, singing in unison and bashing their shields.
Have you ever heard of House Frey?!
The North Remembers House Frey!
A House made of sister and brother fuckers!
Of Cunts and Cravens!
Have you ever heard of House Frey?!
The North Remembers House Frey!
Led by Old Fish Wife Walder!
Who sired an army of oathbreakers and traitors!
Have you ever heard of House Frey?!
The North Remembers House Frey!
They got into bed with House Bolton!
A house that flayed their own bollocks off!
They got into bed with House Bolton!
So, they could fuck something colder than a corpse!
Have you ever heard of House Frey?!
The North Remembers House Frey!
They live no more!
We slaughtered them all!
Frey and Bolton shits alike!
As vengeance for King Robb!
As Vengeance for their Red Wedding!
We fed them to wolves!
Only for them to spit them out!
The North Remembers!
The North Remembers!
The song of the Northern army got the response that Jon wanted. The chant had gotten the Freys in Bolton's army angry. And a contingent of them didn't hold it well either, with them beginning a charge straight across the moor towards them. Jon raised his hand for the pipes to start playing and for Laurence to prepare the archers. Jon watched happily as the Freys got closer to the centre of the field, the banners of the Crossing flowing in the air as their horses rode them towards their death. The front line didn't notice the wooden spears emerge from the thick snow, stabbing their horses in their bellies, causing them to buck and fall into the ground. The lines behind them didn't have time to stop, crashing into the mix of dead and dying horses. Frey soldiers either tried to keep control of their spooked horses, or flew from their horses, landing in the snow. His army gave a cheer and started to chant to the pipes.
"The North Remembers House Frey!"
Jon watched the Freys that hadn't snapped their necks or had been trampled, make for the horses that hadn't been spiked. They were slow, clearly wary. But not wary enough. More wooden spears and knives clawed out of the ground, stabbing at the Freys mercilessly. The Freys tried to stab back but they fell before they had a chance to miss. A few Freys were running towards the horses that were calm enough to ride. The horses bolted before they could get to them, leaving them stranded.A banger from the Crannogmen.Jon grinned as Frey blood gradually covered the snow, as the last Freys that had made a charge were cut down. It wasn't a large number of Bolton's army, a couple hundred at most, but it sent a message.Fear me.Jon could feel it in the enemy army. The Boltons and Freys were nervous. The bastard began to send half of the Frey Force to the left and the other to the right, clearly to circumnavigate the centre of the field. Bolton's pike men began to move forward in front of their horse, stabbing at the ground as they went.
"Bolton's Bastard throwing the Freys first! Piss easy work" The Norrey boomed.
"Doesn't want to waste Northerners, that's what it is!" Maege shouted back.
Jon laughed darkly,He thinks that sending Freys to their deaths while he secures the field will give him the support of the Northern houses. Mad fool.
As the Freys marched and rode around the centre of the field, coming closer, he heard Laurence on the left flank give orders to the archers.
"Knock!"
They waited for a moment.
"Loose!"
The arrows sung true, landing straight into the left flank of Freys. Jon decided he would deal with the right where the Frey Cavalry that wasn't part of the Bolton force.
"Maege, hold the main army! I'll take the horse, will be useless if its boxed in! Mors, we'll kill some Freys!"
The Umber and his horsemen gave a roar, as they thundered towards the Freys. Jon howled as the horses clashed with the Frey knights, clearly unused to the snows of the North. Jon laughed as he slashed through the Freys in the clash, cutting and stabbing at them wherever they were. His Northmen with him were doing the same, eager to avenge their fallen kin. The clash of horses was gradually drowned out by the screams of Freys as he tore through them, faster and more savagely. Jon could hear the Umbers bellowing at the Freys, Mors Umber the loudest.
"The North fucking Remembers Freys!"
"Sister fucking Andals!"
"The North is ours!"
The North had clearly been waiting for this moment.
One Frey Knight tried to strike at Jon's neck as his horse pushed through the Freys. Jon blocked it with Longclaw, pushing the Frey's sword back and then decapitating him in one motion, sending the armoured head flying into the Frey footmen as the horsemen broke, letting Jon and the Umber horsemen take the Frey footmen down, cutting into them like slabs of meat. The blood was flying everywhere as they screamed, trying to fight back against the fury of the North. Everyone that did got cut down harder and more brutally, blood splashing across Jon's face, with his bared teeth. They made short work of the Freys as they turned their attentions to the main force of the enemy.
The Boltons had finally gotten past the centre of the field and the spears of a few Free Folk and Crannogmen that had been hiding under the snow, having taking some more arrows. Nothing major though, being well armoured. Their pike men were now bashing at the shield wall of Jon's foot men, trying to break into their lines, while half their cavalry waited, clearly planning on charging through when the line broke. Ramsay was near the centre of the field, with a small group of archers and pike men, watching in glee.Craven fuck won't even fight with his men.
Jon could see for the briefest moment that his host was pushing back furiously on them, axes and swords slashing at the Boltons in every opportunity.I can smell Bolton blood.The other half was charging towards him, outnumbering his own horsemen.
Jon grinned at the sight of them coming before grabbing the reins, turning it in the opposite direction of them.
"Let's make the bastards work for it!" Jon snarled at his men, all turning their horses, making the Bolton cavalry make chase. He could hear the Boltons chanting as their horses thundered after them.
"Flay!"
"Flay!"
"Flay!"
Jon laughed at the sound of it as their horsemen rode faster, bringing them closer to a part of the woods. They were met with a piercing howl. That was the only signal for Jon to lead his men leftward as Ghost hurtled out of the wood, with hundreds of wolves behind him, snarling and howling as they ran and battered into the Bolton cavalry. Jon wondered if they would see any of Ghost in the cavalry turned to face the Boltons. For a moment he moved fully into Ghost's body; tasting their blood as he tore into their throats, horse and man alike. He could hear their screams as he spat out their flesh.
Then the Bolton cavalry break. Jon nodded towards Mors and his men, and charged straight into the fleeing Boltons with the wolves. Straight into the screaming and savagery. He wasn't surprised to see the flayed fucks break, fleeing back towards where the rest of the fighting was taking place.
Mors howled with laughter at the sight. "Who owns the North?!"
His men answered as they rode with Jon and the massive pack.
"Stark!"
"Stark!"
"Stark!"
Their horses and wolves charged and bolted across the snowy moors, growing bloodier and bloodier, back towards their main force. They were still holding but he could see that the Pike men were starting to tire those at the front, even in their bloodlust to push back and kill any Boltons and Freys in front of them. He noticed Laurence and the archers had pulled back, moving into the woods. Jon's wolfish grin widened.Winterfell is mine bastard, come and see.
Jon howled alongside his wolves charged into more horsemen as they desperately tried to form up as far away from the pike men so the Pike men didn't get targeted by Jon. The wolves and horsemen tore into them. Horses began to fall as the wolves bit into their legs, jumping at their throats. Ghost, the largest of them, was pulling the soldiers off by their legs, tearing them from their horses. Jon and the Umbers continued to slash and hack at them with axes and swords glistening with Bolton blood.
Then the screams were silenced, by a loud, guttural roar.
"Snow!"
Jon turned back to his army, seeing the giants and Free Folk thunder out of the forest, joining the back of the host, with Tormund and Val at the head. One of the giants had thrown a large branch at the Pike men, taking away their own unified formation. That was all the Northmen needed to break through and begin marching forward, with the giants banging their wooden shields as the horde of first men and women broke through the Bolton lines. They were being slaughtered as clansmen, Mormonts and Free Folk tore through the pike men closest, the rest of them starting to rout with the remaining horse, too afraid to stay and fight.
Jon let them run as he waited for his army to catch up to his own position. He looked to Ramsay at the centre. The bastard in all his ugliness looked nervous, motioning to fall back towards the rest of his army. Jon laughed darkly at the sight as he gradually positioned his horsemen at the head of his host. Bolton's bastard had used up what forces that would be loyal to him, thinking it would have been an easy fight. Now there were only the other Northern houses to rely on. And the booming chant that began opposite the field.
"WHO OWNS THE NORTH?!"
"STARK!"
"STARK!"
"STARK!"
That was followed by a volley of arrows and spears, aimed right at the Boltons.
Crowfood laughed loudly, "My brother's going to be pissed that it was him that had to pretend to be nice with the Boltons! Missed all the proper fighting! He only has to block the fuckers!"
Jon grinned as he sped up, starting right at the remaining Bolton and Frey force, looking directly at Ramsay, stuck between two armies of Northmen. The blood of the first men hunting the flayed bastard. Ghost barrelled into them. Red eyes staring at a mad man and bit.
Barbrey Dustin
"Who owns the North?!"
"Stark!"
The battle had been long lost before then. Barbrey had witnessed that on the ramparts. She'd known it as the houses of the North left with Ramsay. Ramsay's force of Freys and Bolton men would be cut down, whether Jon needed help from the Northern Houses that had been at Winterfell, or if he'd truly proven himself the King of Winter. It had turned to the latter and the Northern houses would be glad of it, even if they weren't allowed to fully take their revenge on House Bolton. Barbrey smiled happily, a first in a long time as the armies of the North united, mixed with giants, wolves and wildlings; all behind Brandon's boy.
Brandon, you always knew how to give the best gifts.
It was only a matter of Jon entering Winterfell now. Something which would require a siege. That had been Roose's true plan. He hadn't expected Ramsay to win; and he didn't want the Northern host to be within the walls when Jon won. Roose had wanted them to starve attempting a siege that would take them into Winter, or to disperse back to their keeps, knowing they'd have nowhere to go, with Winterfell, Moat Cailin and the Dreadfort being the only keeps to hold such a large force. The Leech Lord planned on waiting for Winter to come and go in Winterfell whilst the rest of the Northern forces dealt with winter, then let the Lannisters in and help break them. The losses of the Boltons and Freys given to Ramsay were acceptable. He had Bolton forces in the castle, alongside Barbrey's own and her father's.
Barbrey laughed.A shame for him that those blood ties died with Bethany and Domeric.
Barbrey had made short work of convincing her father and brothers to side with her, becoming all the easier with the Crannogmen that had somehow snuck into Winterfell, bringing news that Moat Cailin and the Dreadfort had fallen, with Torrhen's Square and the Stony shore rid of the squids. Her father had been quick to join her plans.
Barbrey walked down the ramparts with a smile, watching Bolton banners fall down the walls in the muddy snow outside of the castle, being replaced with Stark banners, hidden in the crypts by Northmen. She watched happily as drugged Bolton men got slaughtered by Ryswell and Dustin men alike.I wonder if this is what the Red Wedding was like when Tully and her whelp died, slaughtered.She snorted at the thought. She didn't like Tully and her children with Ned too much, their deaths didn't weigh on her. But betraying guest rights betrayed the North, something she would never tolerate.It isn't breaking of guest rights when the Boltons never belonged in Winterfell, a place of wolves.
Her smile grew as she saw her brother, Rickard, with the Crannogmen dragging Roose Bolton in chains towards the gate, a gift for Jon. The Lord look as emotionless as ever, though she swore there was a small look of surprise on his face. Roose was the worse of the two Boltons; infinitely crueller and more cunning than Ramsay, but even he had blind spots, assuming that Ryswell and Dustin would have the most to gain under Bolton rule. Barbrey's disdain for Ned Stark must have helped with that idea. Nobody truly liked the Boltons, even her ambitious father didn't truly.
"Comfortable Lord Bolton?" She asked innocently
Bolton looked at her with that emotionless expression, "More comfortable than Domeric was when he died by my bastard's hands."
Barbrey scowled at him. "I doubt you will soon. A Stark comes to kill you."
He turned to the gates, speaking quietly, "A quick death then."
Barbrey doubted that.
She heard the sound of the gates open as she took her position, smiling Roose Bolton with the rest of her family in the courtyard. It didn't take long for the Northmen to enter. She could all the ones that had stayed in Winterfell. Fat Wyman Manderly, grinning with the clansmen and Mormonts. Lord Cerwyn, with a look of relief on his face, free of Boltons. And Whoresbane Umber, laughing with his brother who was covered in Bolton and Frey Blood. The only Northmen that looked nervous were the Karstark lords, they weren't in chains though. She had seen their banners wait with the Manderly forces surrounding them in the battle. None of them mattered to her though. It was the blood drenched Northman that she had eyes on, with a horse sized Direwolf by his side. She could see that Stark look. Long face, hardened by the cold. A dark beard, drenched in blood, glistening on the hairs. And Grey eyes, with that wildness in them she had seen on Brandon. Barbrey's lips curved into a smile.
Brandon's son walked purposefully towards her, dragging Ramsay Snow with his hand. The bastard looked almost torn apart. She could see his tortured breathing, and a knife placed in his ribs. Jon was growling at Domeric's killer.
"Winterfell is Mine Bastard, Come and See."
She missed that deep growling voice. He never belonged at the wall.
Barbrey stepped forward to him, Rickard bringing Bolton forward.
"Winterfell is yours my King."
Jon looked at her funnily with a solemn face.I can see why they saw Ned Stark in him.Then she saw what she had been aching for, a savage grin. A wild one.
He turned his attention to Lord Bolton, with him and his wolf snarling at him. Bolton didn't flinch unsurprisingly.
Jon growled, "King slayer."
Barbrey watched as Jon didn't hesitate to grab the man by his chains. Dragging the two Boltons across the courtyard, in the direction of the Godswood. The Northern Lords and Ladies followed as troops slowly entered the keep. She followed quickly, listening to the pained moans of Ramsay Snow as Jon and his wolf led them into the wood. It didn't take long for them to reach the wood, and the heart tree opposite the small pond. Jon had dropped the two Boltons in front of them, the first men and women surrounding them.
Jon snarled at Ramsay.
"Words."
Ramsay tried to laugh through his pain. It turned to coughing up blood. Barbrey could see that the wolf had bitten him across his torso. And Jon must have beaten him some as well. Ramsay spoke slowly, rasping.
"Did you like what I did to Arya Stark? I heard she was your favourite sibling."
Jon removed the black knife that was in Ramsay's side then stabbed it right where his cock would be. The bastard screamed, coughing up more blood. Jon wasn't finished though, unsheathing his bloodied sword. He stopped for a moment, looking the bastard straight in the eyes as he gutted him, twisting the entrails around the sword and removing them slowly, before swinging the entrail covered sword at Ramsay's head, rolling in front of Roose Bolton.He's finally taken that smile away from the bastard's face.
Jon faced Lord Bolton, whose pale, dead face was now covered in his bastard's blood. Jon snarled more violently, his wolf echoing as it circled around Lord Bolton.
"Words King Slayer!"
Bolton was just silent. Jon stared angrily before nodding. He impaled Roose, moving the sword slowly down towards Roose's stomach, making the Bolton grunt. Jon removed the man's stomach, the cut Roose's head off. Barbrey didn't look away from any of it as Jon offered the entrails and heads to the heart tree, now drenched in Bolton blood. The face of the heart tree looked alive, as wild as Jon. Barbrey smiled.My sister's killer is dead and so is her son. And My Brandon's boy lives on.
"Welcome home King Jon Stark, son of Brandon."
Barbrey said cheerfully.A True Stark of Winterfell was home.
Hope you all enjoyed! Hope it went well, was a longer chapter and I hope I got the battle right. I went with the Northern conspiracy because it is evident in the books. It was something that had to exist. Hope I got a bloody and interesting battle fae you all. Took me a while tae write. We'll be getting reactions of the battle soon and a homecoming as well for Rickon. Some more interesting stuff will come with other characters a bit further away from the North.
