Falling Like || Jon Snow

41| 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰

"Don't." she heard Tormumd mutter.

It's crucial that we let them charge at us. But she wasn't going to let him stand alone out there, and it couldn't have been more obvious that he wasn't coming back to them. "Prepare to charge!" She shouted. "Prepare to charge, and hold!" across the field, the Boltons drew arrows, and she watched with bated breath as Jon charged forward, narrowly evading them. A second bout of arrows were drawn. "To the Commander! Now!" at the front of their lines, she snatched a spear from where it sat waiting in the ground beside her, levelling it as they surged forwards. Hot on her heels, she could hear Wren, as well as Tormund shouting for his own men to follow.

A third wave of arrows struck, and then Jon's horse went down. When he hauled himself back to his feet, he could see the Bolton cavalry charging. There was a sinking feeling in his chest as certain as defeat, overpowered only by the boiling rage of loss. He let it carry him, unsheathing his sword and readying himself for the final blow...

And then the horses charged in from behind him, Nymeria at the head, cutting into them with the sort of ferocity that comes with true loyalty rather than fear. Horses and men fell like flies from even the first strikes, mud and dirt flying all around from the horses' hooves and the falling bodies, quickly mixing it with blood.

Nymeria galloped through the chaos, gripping the reins tightly in one hand, manoeuvring this way and that to avoid her or the mare getting skewered. She spun her spear expertly in the other, swinging it in wide arcs, knocking Bolton men from their steeds as well as slicing them open. She would have been able to continue like that, but even the battle for the Wall had been less chaotic than this with everyone on foot. Now, there was too much happening for her to notice the charging knight until it was too late. He charged straight at her side, spear burying itself deep in the mare's lungs. The pale horse reared, and Nymeria lost her grip on her spear in favour of desperately gripping the reins, and then they toppled. Pain shot through her as the horse's body landed atop hers, trapping her from the waist down, and she cried. The knight had leapt down from his horse now, his own bloodied spear raised as he stood over her. Struggle and writhe as she might, Nymeria couldn't free herself and couldn't pull her daggers from beneath the weight of her own body and her steed's. Then an enraged roar echoed in her ears, and a huge dark form barrelled into the man. He screamed as her claws came down on him, snapping his ribs and tearing his flesh. Another snarl dragged from her throat as her teeth sank into his face. Nymeria finally managed to pull herself from beneath the horse with a strained groan, and when she stood, huffing, Wren turned towards her, head bumping her side lightly, lower. An offer, she realised. Sucking in a breath, Nymeria accepted, and she reached up, hand grasping the fur atop the bear's shoulders...

°

Men had died in scores thanks to Ramsay's relentless volleys of arrows. Now those who were left were surrounded by tall Bolton shields and at least a couple hundred spears. They were trapped.

"Forward!" one of the men shouted. Their spears pointed inwards, ready to strike, and then a roar split the air. The men froze, and a second later, a small section of the circle around them had shattered.

Wren swung enormous paws this way and that, taking down several men at once, sharp teeth snapping and snarls echoing amidst the screams of the Bolton men. Atop her back was Nymeria, face smudged with dirt and blood, battered and furious. An arrow hit the bear, whose pained and further angered roar matched Nymeria's enraged scream. She swung an arm out, snatching a spear from a falling man as the bear claimed him and slashing out at others. "With me now!" She shouted. "Fight with me!"

With rekindled hope, the northmen and wildlings charged into the gap she'd made for them, fighting harder than ever.

Then a horn sounded over the hill, and a new army charged forth. Jon's eyes widened when he spotted Sansa atop the hill right next to who he could only assume was the leader of this new force bearing the banner of the Vale of Arryn as they rode through, bringing ruination to those of the Boltons left.