Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 117: Battle for the North (Part 2)

At the battlefield...

The Stark and Bolton forces continue littering the snowy fields with more piles of bodies; as the Hornwood forests continued burning, the snowstorm winds began steadily dying down. The winds were not blowing as fiercely as they once were, finally allowing the Starks to gain greater visibility. But Robb and Jon still mustered every fiber of their being to dodge, weave and survive the chaos surrounding them as panicked horses careen from every angle and barrage of arrows fell from the sky. Grey Wind, Shaggydog and Ghost continue lunging through the battlefield taking down as many Bolton soldiers as they could. From out of nowhere four Bolton soldiers run at them. Robb and Jon make short work of them before another frenzied soldier, only for them to be picked off by Theon's arrows; Ser Lucius and Olyvar stand shoulder-to-shoulder fending off waves of Bolton soldiers.

"There's no end to them!" Olyvar exclaimed.

Ser Lucius bashed one with his mace. "The fire attack, the storm, Ramsay's archers on the vantage point... That bastard came prepared."

Through the smoke from the fires Lucius swings at the men trying to kill him. Takes a hit, kills the man who landed it and uses another as a human shield before tossing him to the ground. The Old Bull turns to see a Bolton infantryman lunging at him and readies for the inevitable impact, but someone jumps in front of him and thrusts forward sword in hand—driving their blade through the Bolton's neck. Lucius recognized the flowing long dark hair and the pommel of the sword and the pale as milkglass metalwork.

"You," he acknowledged.

Ariyana herself had arrived to the battlefield wielding two swords and intercepted the Bolton soldier bound for Lucius. "I swore I'd make amends, Ser Lucius, and I intend to make up for the mistakes I made," she said.

"We'll worry about that later, child. More inbound!"

Redirecting her attention towards the fight, the Sword of the Morning danced and maneuvered through waves of Bolton soldiers. Theon raised his bow and took aim, pulling back on the bowstring and released, sending one of his arrows soaring through the air with such velocity and hit a Bolton soldier in the eye. He drew another arrow and pulled back and released again. Without a doubt, when it comes to archery Theon Greyjoy was an expert marksman.

Tormund and Mance each engage at Bolton infantry at the battle line and pressed their advantage, swinging hard once, twice, three times before finally running them through. Wun Wun swats a mounted Bolton and his horse out of the way, and is quickly followed by Free Folk hunters, shooting arrows as they keep a firm footing on the snowy hillside.

Ramsay watches as the Stark forces adapting to their situation and decided to begin the next phase. He turns to Smalljon and gives him his approval. "It's time. Go," he said.

About fucking time, Smalljon grins, eager and yearning to join the fray. He turns to his infantry. "Who owns the North?" he calls out.

"We do!" his men answer.

"I can't hear you! Who owns the North?"

"We do!"

"Show me!"

With that, Smalljon raises his sword in the air and turns running towards the battlefield leading by example. The infantry howls and follows after him. Robb swings his sword and slices through a Bolton's throat before noticing the Smalljon's rush. The Young Wolf turns to Greatjon.

"Lord Umber," he calls out. "Take most of our men and retreat deep into the woods! I'll have a smaller contingent make the enemy chase us!"

The Greatjon drove his blade deep into a Bolton soldier's chest cavity and withdrew it to look back at the Young Wolf. He grinned as he realized what the Stark lord was up to and loudly bellowed at his marauders. "Fall back to the trees, boys!" the Greatjon roared.