Chapter 19: Chapter 18: Battle of Winterfell
Daeron felt a great sorrow settle in his heart to see Wintertown with his own eyes. He should have felt happy to return to the place that held a lot of happy memories but seeing the ghost town in front of him those memories only fuelled the pain and rage he felt for the Boltons and the Ironborn. The Ironborn invasion and the Bolton occupation has severely curtailed Wintertown. Very few people inhabited the once lively town and those few who were present could not be trusted.
Many of the occupants had fled the town to White Harbour, Castle Cerwyn and Barrowton. It would take some great effort to restore Wintertown to its former glory. There was bound to be spies here and he had given clear instructions to all the men not to accept any men or women into their host.
"Many of the inhabitants look hungry and tired my King. Perhaps we ought to…"
"They can hold on for one more day Lyra. We came here to give battle to Ramsay Snow and that's what we are going to do."
Daeron could see that his response was not well received by his Mormont companion.
"I understand the plight of the people Lyra. Trust me if it was not for the war I would do my utmost to help them. But our ability to wage war must not be compromised lest the enemy uses the situation to their advantage." explained Daeron grimly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Edric Mallister nodding along in agreement.
"Aye, the king has the right of it. The bastard would have his men disguised as smallfolk among the good people of this town. Some may even be hidden among the buildings. If we dally here the Boltons can spring a trap on us." Ser Edric pitched in.
"The hardest choices require the strongest wills." He never thought he would steal lines from a genocidal villain even if it was a fictional one. "We are here to end the line of the Flayed men and bring peace to the North. Everything else can come later." said Daeron before he looked thoughtfully to the far west from his position.
"We can set up camp to the west of the town. There is a small hill nearby and it will serve as a defensive position for our camp."
A while later Daeron was overseeing their supplies being secured into the camp. Already tents were rising all along the small hill that he had chosen to set up the camp. He had placed all the horses at the far back of the camp and ordered the men to dig trenches on their flanks. While he didn't expect Ramsay would be bold or stupid enough to attack at night in numbers it was better to be prepared. He was counting on Ramsay to send a small group of men to attack his camp in the middle of the night.
"We are too close to the woods your grace…ah sorry Jon." Ser Edric fumbled in how to address him as Daeron had ordered everyone to be mindful of how they address him from now on.
"I know." He replied calmly as he watched men dig trenches around the camp.
"Are you expecting an attack from the woods?"
"Not just from the woods to the west but also from Wintertown itself. At the moment we have the advantage and Ramsay would love to tip the scales in his favour."
"Then shouldn't we move the camp to a more secure position?" asked Edric asked in concern.
"Right now we know for sure where the attack is coming from. If you knew exactly where an enemy is going to attack what would you do?"
"I would either foil the attack or set a trap."
Daeron nodded as if it was obvious. "We set a trap Ser Edric. With any luck, Ramsay himself may lead the attack. If we catch him then we win the North without further bloodshed."
"We will be taking a huge risk." Ser Edric warned which only made Daeron shake his head.
"I do not deny that which is why I have tasked Lord Reed to guard our rear. His men are experienced in using the lay of the land to blend in."
"I don't understand." Ser Edric said, looking confused.
"Come, I will show you." Daeron led the Mallister knight towards the rear of their camp. "Look around and tell me what you see Ser."
"Lots of grass and horses." Ser Edric gave a confused reply.
"You are not wrong but you are not right either." said Daeron as he patted the knight on his shoulder and stepped back a little.
Suddenly Ser Edric was at the business end of a spear courtesy of a man who was covered in grass tied around his body.
"This is how we lay the trap for the Boltons Ser Edric." said Daeron to the thoroughly surprised knight.
Both of them turned around at the sound of hooves and was greeted by the sight of a man galloping towards them on a horse.
"My lords, the Boltons have asked for a parlay." said the man as he trotted the horse to a stop.
"We can't trust them, your grace." Ser Edric cautioned alluding to what happened at the Twins.
"We will oblige to their request for a parlay but on our terms." said Daeron before parting ways with Edric to prepare for the meeting.
*****
The sound of hooves jolted him from his musings about the upcoming war and the bloodshed that was about to occur. Daeron saw the Bolton contingent approaching from a distance. He could see there were only four people among the Bolton delegation. Daeron also took only four in his company comprising Maege Mormont, Wylis Manderly and Cley Cerwyn.
"Do remember not to address me as King or by my true name. As far as you three know I am Jon Snow, the bastard son of Ned Stark. The Bolton's bastard will try his best to get under our skin. Let him bark all he wants for it is the ravings of a mad dog that is about to feel the cold embrace of death."
Seeing the three of his companions nod Daeron went back to observe his enemy. He could clearly spot the bastard of Dreadfort among the group. The little psycho was hard to miss especially with the disturbing smile he was sporting on his face. To the bastard's right was Walter or Steelshanks as he was commonly known. That guy was a dangerous foe as he is a skilled battle commander and a veteran of many battles. It was regrettable that he was loyal to the Boltons and participated in the Red Wedding. That alone was a death sentence to the guy else Daeron would have preferred to take him alive.
The other two riders were Nage and Skinner. Daeron had watched them all through the Weirwood trees and knew them well enough. These men deserved to die for they have been tormenting the people of Winterfell and Wintertown for their amusement. He would ensure these men die by sunset tomorrow.
"Well…well…well…bastard. You are a long way from the Wall." said Ramsay as he and his companions pulled their horses to a stop.
"I heard there was a bastard sitting at Winterfell claiming to be her lord. I gathered if any bastard was to stay under the roof of Winterfell then it ought to be me." said Daeron blandly which made the smile melt right off Ramsay's face.
"Lord Ramsay is not a bastard anymore. He has been legitimized as Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North by King Tommen Baratheon." Walton growled out with a hard stare.
Daeron chuckled and so did his three companions.
"To be legitimized by a bastard…" Daeron let out an exaggerated sigh. "Lord Cerwyn, I wonder what that makes our dear bastard of the Leech lord?" he asked with some amusement.
"A bastard who got legitimized by a bastard remains a bastard." said Cley Cerwyn with hate raging in his eyes.
"Aye, that it does my lord. I guess it doesn't matter what we call him as he won't be seeing the sunset tomorrow." said Daeron as he glared into the eyes of Ramsay.
"You and your pathetic army doesn't scare me, bastard. I broke Stannis Baratheon and you will suffer the same if you do not surrender." growled Ramsay
"Aye, you broke Stannis. He was a southerner but I was raised here in these lands. I know this land better than you do bastard and I have good Northmen by my side. This battle will end with your head on a spike and the annihilation of House Bolton. For the sake of good Northmen that is about to follow you into the embrace of death, I offer you this. Let's fight in place of our armies and settle this matter the Old Way."
Ramsay looked uneasy for a time but he regained his bearings.
"I have heard that you are good with a sword. Maybe you are or maybe not. What I know is that I can defeat your army as I have the advantage."
"Do you really believe that bastard? You think you can defeat us with your half-starved army?" asked Wylis Manderly with a derisive snort.
"We do have Rickon Stark Lord Manderly." said Walton.
"Yes, Lord Stark is my guest and I have become fond of the little lord. Surely you value the life of your brother bastard. So I give you this offer. Bend the knee, disband this army and return my wife to me. Do that and I will ensure your brother remains safe. I will even allow you to return to your post at the Wall." offered Ramsay
"How do I know you have Rickon?" asked Daeron.
Ramsay merely smirked and nodded at Walton who threw the severed head of Shaggydog towards Daeron.
He was expecting something like that so he remained impassive and merely arched an eyebrow.
"Is that it? This is the evidence to prove you have my brother in your custody?" Daeron asked unimpressed. He barely spared a glance at the direwolf head on the ground.
"This is the head of…" Ramsay never got to finish before Daeron stepped in.
"….A direwolf which is not proof of my brother's custody. Do you know how many direwolfs I have encountered on both sides of the Wall and throughout this campaign? Five! You may as well have shown me the head of a dog bastard. I am not going to fall for your little tricks and neither will the lords of the North."
"Aye bastard. You are as dumb as your bastard friends if this is supposed to convince us. We heard rumours that Rickon Stark is safe in Skagos." said Maege Mormont playing her role perfectly just as Daeron asked her to.
"I will give you my own offer. Order your army to surrender and I will spare their lives. You and your band of bastards will be given the honour of my sword. If I don't see a white flag tomorrow morning I will smash your armies and flay you alive bastard. I will cut off your cock and feed it to you. The same will be done to your twisted friends. I will string you all up on a cross and let the crows eat you alive. This parlay is over and I hope you consider my offer for your own sake. I will not be able to chain down the rage in my heart for what you and your vermin father did to my family and the North."
With that said, Daeron turned his horse around and galloped back to his camp. The other lords were quick to follow leaving a thoroughly confused and angry Boltons to their backs.
"Seems like the Boltons bought the ruse your grace." said Cley Cerwyn.
"I was observing the bastard carefully as you ordered your grace. He bought your argument as you predicted. Are you sure the bastard will use Lord Rickon in the open?" asked Wylis Manderly
"Ramsay will be most eager to use Rickon to prove that he has my cousin in his custody. The moment Rickon is within my line of sight I will be able to use my warging powers to call in Rhaegal and ensure my cousin's safety. Either way, I will ensure Rickon live and take the mantle of Lord of Winterfell just as uncle Eddard and cousin Robb would have wanted." said Daeron with conviction.
He knew he was gambling a little but he truly felt that the margin of error in his plan was negligible.
*****
The night was silent as a grave and for that Grunt cursed the Old Gods. Of all the nights for the Northern winds and snow to settle down this was the worst time.
Just as what he and his men did to Stannis's army, Grunt was here to bring discord into the Stark camp. Without the howling winds, it was hard to mask the movements of his men. Thankfully the moon was absent in the sky which ensures low visibility at the night. He and his men could work in the dark. They were born into the shadows cast by the highborns and darkness was their ally. It was too bad the Stark army only knew to fight in the light.
Grunt led his men carefully through a sea of trees and finally, he was at the rear of the Stark camp. He palmed a knife in his hand and began crawling his way towards the camp on the ground. He could feel the men following his example and steadily made their way to the outskirts of the enemy camp. There was scarcely any patrol and those few that remained were far apart to be effective. The last time he saw something like this was with Stannis's army and he had wrecked them for it every step of their way. Looks like Jon Snow's army was going to suffer the same fate.
Grunt began to carefully move forward towards the camp followed by his men barely making any sound. A few lanterns burning in the distance showed him a herd of horses tied up further ahead. He jolted as a sharp pain appeared on the back of his neck. His hands shook as he pulled out something sharp and tiny from the back of his neck. A tremor went through his body and he realised what was going on.
'Poison…but how?' he thought confusedly
He felt the world spin and then he was consumed by the darkness.
The next time he opened his eyes it was in a tent. His ears were ringing and he felt as if the world around him was going slow. Even his vision was blurred although he could make out several figures standing around him. He let out a groan as someone slapped him on the face. The same guy took hold of his hair and began to violently shake him.
Grunt's vision slowly began to clear and the first thing he saw was a giant direwolf close to his face. The beast snapped its jaws at him and he flinched. His instincts kicked in and tried to move far away from the wolf but his efforts were in vain. His hands and legs were tied up not to mention he was tied up tightly to a wooden post inside the tent.
"You are finally awake. That's good."
Grunt looked at the owner of the voice. It was a thin man with squinty eyes but he had no idea who this person was. The only thing he knew was that he was captured by the Starks. He knew he was a dead man.
"Don't worry Grunt. Lord Reed will not harm you and neither will I, for now."
Grunt observed another figure walk into his field of vision. Once again fear settled inside him as he saw a lean figure sit down on a chair in front of him. His eyes trailed down to the crow in the man's hand that was giving him a creepy eye.
"Ghost, down boy." The man said and Grunt let out a relieved sigh as the wolf moved away from him. Although, this keyed him to the fact that he was in the presence of the bastard of Winterfell.
"I know it is difficult for you to speak right now as the poison darts that struck you have some significant effects." said Jon Snow
Grunt's eyes widened and he tried to break free of his bonds to no avail.
"I brought you here for two reasons. One, to let you know that all of your men are either killed or captured. The second reason is somewhat personal." said Jon Snow as he leaned forward in his chair as Grunt started to panic.
"You see I needed a guinea pig for testing something and having someone like you I thought it would be best to use you for all your worth. You won't be seeing the next day either way. But before you go let's make some use of you shall we."
Having said that Jon Snow raised his palms and opened them releasing the crow into the air. Grunt noticed the crow was now free to fly away but the bird was looking at him with an intensity that was frankly alarming. It began to beat its wings and for a moment Grunt was relieved. But then his eyes found something tied to the leg of the crow. On a closer look, it turned out to be an arrowhead. Then all of a sudden the crow was in the air rushing towards him. He felt pain blare in his right eye and then he felt the cold embrace of darkness.
******
Ramsay had to admit that he was disappointed to notice no fires, smoke or wailing of men from the Stark camp. While he knew the chances of success for all the hunting parties he sent were slim he had hoped some damage would have been inflicted on the Stark camp.
"This will be a tough fight, my lord." said Walton as he pulled his horse beside Ramsay to a stop.
Ramsay merely grunted in reply. "Any sign of our scouts?" he asked curiously
"No luck so far, my lord. We can assume our scouts are either captured or killed." said Walton grimly.
"Hmm…I suspect the hunting party I sent last night also failed." Ramsay mused out loud before a cruel smile settled on his face. "No matter. We shall destroy the bastard's army on the field."
Ramsay looked into the distance noting the wooden crosses littered across the field. Several flayed men were nailed to those crosses upside down. While intimidation tactic for sure the crosses also served as indicators for certain ranges from the frontlines of his army.
He had decided to field all the archers right behind the infantry at the centre of his army. He had few horses so he decided to hold them back from the main army. In time, the horses would be used for a charge but he was confident the battle wouldn't come to that. He had issued orders to his men to target the lords of the Stark army. An army without its leaders would flounder and he will slaughter them all just as he did to the Ironborn and Stannis Baratheon's army.
The thought of inflicting pain on his enemies made him think about his dear wife. She must be brought to heel and he was giddy at the thought of what he would do to her. He will be busy of course as he would be dealing with all the families that rebelled against him. Nonetheless, he would find some quality time to 'bond' with his wife once she was by his side.
"My lord, the Starks have arrived." said Walton.
Sure enough, Ramsay could see the direwolf banners approaching from beyond a distant hill. Soon the Starks were joined by Glover, Reed, Mormont, Manderly and Cerwyn banners. Then there were those Wildlings that made up the centre of the Stark army. He could identify the Wildlings from the rags they wore even from this distance.
"So they have. Let's give the bastard his brother back shall we." he said with a smirk directed at Walton. His trusted second in command nodded to one of the men and Rickon Stark was pushed forward.
Ramsay dismounted his horse and moved towards Rickon with a cruel glint in his eyes. The fear he saw in Rickon's eyes made him truly happy and excited about what was to follow. He happily dragged the youngest Stark so that Jon Snow could see what was happening.
"We are about to play a game, you and I. Are you ready to play Rickon?"
He patted the young Stark before taking a knife into his hand. He noticed Jon Snow had also dismounted his horse and was watching everything just as he wanted.
Ramsay raised the knife high into the air which made Rickon flinch. Contrary to every expectation he merely cut the ropes holding Rickon.
"The game is this lord Stark. I want you to run across the field to your brother. Go on now." Ramsay said as he lightly pushed Rickon forward.
He watched in glee as Rickon stumbled around in confusion before running away as fast as his small legs could go.
Ramsay let out a chuckle as he happily took a bow handed to him by Walton and an arrow from a quiver on his horse. He took aim and waited a little bit before releasing the arrow. The arrow true to his aim struck a few feet away from Rickon. He laughed at the fear present on Rickon's face when the little lord looked at the arrow as he ran.
Ramsay looked at the Stark army and noticed a contingent of men on horses making their way for little Rickon. To his surprise, Jon Snow never moved from his spot and that made him confused. He had learned everything about Jon Snow from Theon. From everything he learned, Jon Snow was supposed to be someone who was easy to get under the skin. He had hoped he could spur the bastard of Winterfell into action by exposing Rickon to danger.
"Perhaps the bastard needs a little push, my lord." suggested Walton nodding at the running Rickon.
Ramsay nodded at that and he nocked another arrow on his bow and let it loose. This time he aimed at Rickon properly and as the arrow speared through the air he was sure it was going to strike the target. Then out of nowhere, a bird flew straight into the arrow completely changing its trajectory.
"Fucking bird" he growled before letting loose another arrow. He watched with an open mouth as another bird smashed into the arrow almost as if it was protecting Rickon Stark intentionally.
"Archers." He called out and watched as his men became alert. "Nock your arrows." He commanded but then there was a loud screech that gave everyone pause.
Ramsay looked around in confusion and saw several of his men pointing to the east. He gawked at the sight before his eyes and twitched in fear.
"What the fuck!" he shrieked and fell on his butt as a huge dragon glided through the sky straight towards his army.
At that moment, he forgot about everything around him. He could hear nothing or feel anything for that matter. He just sat there looking at the monstrous beast as it got closer and closer. Then there was fire everywhere and the air was ripe with screams of men. Once he would have found joy in watching men scream in pain but this time he only felt fear. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nose and when the smoke dispersed in the wind he saw the blackened bodies of his men. A strong wind from the north blew some of the ash into his open mouth.
Even as he coughed and heaved he managed to climb to his feet but a distant rumble stopped him cold. Turning south he saw the Stark army riding across the field at a terrifying pace. He could make out the enemy formation forming a half-crescent shape. It was then that he noticed the addition of another banner in the Stark army. He had no idea why there was a split flag and he had no time to find out as well. He was on his feet and made a beeline for his horse.
"Form a line you fools. Form a line. Archers take up your positions." He barked out orders and some obeyed but many were just running away. The dragon was circling around and he didn't have a fucking clue on what to do.
Then out of nowhere a swarm of crows smashed into the lines of archers from east and west. The archers who were supposed to release their arrows were now groaning on the floor bleeding from their eyes and neck.
"Stand and fight you bastards. Stand and fight." He screamed but his army was breaking and it was too late by then.
The Stark cavalry was the first to reach them and a flanking strike shattered his army. He raised his sword to fight but a horse smashed into him throwing him off to his own horse and he knew no more.
******
Daeron couldn't help himself but smile as he watched Bolton banners being torn down only to be replaced by the direwolf banner of House Stark and his own personal banner. Standing inside the castle overlooking the training yard he was filled with nostalgia. The memories of Jon Snow trickled into the forefront of his mind.
He could just picture Eddard Stark standing right where he was and he could also picture Robb, Bran and himself in the training yard. Those days were the good days where his woes were trivial at best. He only had to deal with the cold accusing eyes of Catelyn Stark but now he had to deal with the undead army to the north and enemies among the living to the south.
In another life, his worries were almost trivial. He wished he could return to that life but just as that thought invaded his mind he discarded it. Thinking about his old life always brought him a certain sadness and longing. He functioned well this far by deliberately suppressing the life he had on Earth. Jon Snow's memories and emotions was a shield that protected him from the black pit of depression.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke him away from his internal musings. He glanced to his side to find Maester Wolken. He had to admit that it was quite difficult to imagine someone other than Maester Luwin as the Maester of Winterfell. There was also his apprehension towards the order of Maesters. Standing behind the Maester was Rickon Stark, his cousin.
"I thought I told you to rest on your bed Rickon."
"I wanted to meet you. You are the only family I have." said Rickon in a barely audible whisper.
It was then Daeron came to a stark realisation. Rickon was just a child struggling to properly adjust to how his world turned upside down in a span of a few years.
Daeron knelt down and pulled Rickon into a hug. "You have family Rickon. Sansa will be here in a few weeks. Then there is Arya and Bran. They will all return home."
"You promise."
He couldn't help but smile and pat Rickon on his head affectionately.
"I promise. Now be a good lad and listen to the Maester. You need your rest and tomorrow we can talk all about my adventures at the Wall. Perhaps I might even let you fly on my dragon." I offered and that did the trick for buying Rickon's obedience.
"Come, my lord. You need to fill your belly with healthy food and then off to bed you go." said Maester Wolken before bowing to Daeron.
"Maester wait." He called after the Maester as he suddenly remembered something.
"Your grace?"
"I would like to send ravens to all the lords of the North that Winterfell has been retaken. Tell them Winter Came for House Bolton. Demand the presence of those houses who have yet to declare for House Stark in Winterfell. If they shall not comply tell them that Daeron Targaryen will see this as an act of war and I will bring Fire and Blood upon them no matter where they are. Send a separate raven for House Ryswell. I want you to write these letters in my presence."
"Of course your grace but I don't think Winterfell have enough ravens to write to them all."
"No matter. I have brought the Maester of Last Hearth with me. There are more than enough ravens."
"Of course, your grace." said Maester Wolken before leading Rickon to his bed.
Daeron looked out into the vast Northern land that sprawled out before him. The North is nearly as large as the other six kingdoms combined and he was at the heart of the North. It was so the south he ought to go but first he had to ensure the North was ready to fight the White Walkers.
For that, he knew the North needs to be united. He would have to send emissaries to the Mountain clans and the lords of Skagos. There was a strong possibility that he would have to step in personally to ensure the two unruly groups of the North cooperate in the dark days ahead. Then there was the matter of House Dustin, Ryswell and Stout.
In all this chaos he had avoided the Vale army camped at the Neck. It seemed that the real hurdles were just about to come his way and already he was getting overwhelmed. There was of course the matter of Dreadfort and its garrison. Frankly, he didn't see how he could engage the Lannisters in battle before the year is out.
Rickon is not old enough to handle all the problems that plague the North but a regent can, he thought with a sudden bout of clarity.
His initial plan was to appoint Sansa as the regent but after seeing the sorry state of Wintertown he was sure that would be a bad idea. Sansa has zero experience in leading a castle especially something as large as Winterfell. She will only crumble under the weight of immense responsibilities that a regency of Winterfell would entail.
The regency must be held by someone outside the Stark family. It will harness connections with a strong family especially one that fought beside house Stark. It will be a form of reward and the Northerners were more than deserving of such a reward. Having said that the regent must be someone smart and someone who would command respect from other houses.
It was then a name came to his mind. This man was responsible for streamlining the logistics of his army that marched from Ramsgate to Winterfell. It was this man's men that supported the loyalist army through the White Knife and the land. If this man can organize the movement of the army this efficiently then this was a man that deserved to rule from Winterfell. Rickon could learn a lot under the tutelage of such a man.
Daeron decided then and there that the regent of Winterfell will be none other than Weirman Manderly, the Lord of Ramsgate and cousin to Wyman Manderly. It was high time the Manderlys were rewarded with something.
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