The Demon of Winterfell

Chapter Fifty-Three: Conquer

The Demon of Winterfell sat in the middle of an army. Men were dying all around. She accepted a fate of death, clutching tightly to the cold hand of Robert Marsh. Vyreo's voice echoed all around her. "You will be the one, the Prince that was Promised... or, Princess... that was Promised."

"You were wrong," she whispered. "Terribly, terribly wrong."

But then her feelings shifted. A renewed strength overwhelmed her, blinding the pain in her side. She had to win. She had to prove that she'd done something. She had to prove Vyreo right, that she was something. She was a force to be reckoned with.

Emmelyne stood up, moving to look at the edges of the circle, where what looked like a mountain of bodies loomed. Bolton soldiers were climbing it, taking Starks to the ground with ease. Davos shouted a command, urging their men to fight. To win.

More Boltons came for Emmelyne, but she slashed through them without a second thought. Wun Wun began throwing aside the shielded men. Tormund slammed himself against one of the rows, letting out a glorious battle cry. Others followed him closely. The Stark men fought with a vigilance, but they were still not winning. Emmelyne saw Wun Wun twist a man and rip him in half.

"Infantry, advance!"

The Starks were herded into an even tighter circle. "Both sides!" someone cried.

They inched back, trying to avoid the spears. "Fall back!"

"Fuck this, come on!" Tormund shouted at his wildling companions.

"We're going home!"

It was hard for Emmelyne to process every thing that was happening. She saw Tormund fighting with Smalljon Umber, but couldn't tell who was winning. That was, until, Tormund was knocked to the ground.

Jon lie on the ground, men trampling over him in their hastes. He gasped for air each time their feet hit his chest. "Jon!" Emmelyne screamed, trying to find him in the crowd.

A man rounded on her, aiming for her legs. She attempted to dodge him, leaping back. A pain burned in her ankle as he swung his blade, knocking her to the ground. He advanced, grinning broadly. "So long, Demon."

That was when flame ripped through his chest. He was stood straight, his arms wide as fire burst from everywhere it could. Emmelyne's eyes went wide. Three more men all on her sides ignited, screaming horribly. "Seven hells," she whispered, her breath shuddering.

Her side pained her too much to allow her to stand. Even if it weren't hurting her so badly, the blood draining from her ankle proved her legs would give out the minute she tried to stand. The strange strength which had rejuvenated her before had faded. Emmelyne was covered completely in blood. Embers floated to the ground all around her like fresh snow flakes. "Thank you, R'hllor, but you can stop trying," she said. "It is done. We are losing this fight."

A man stumbled toward her, his entire body drenched in blood and sweat. He started to raise his sword, before letting out a scream of pain. Emmelyne saw the blade of a sword, pushing through his chest. She did not recognize the man who had killed him, but she noted the sigil of House Reed on his armor. "Emmelyne Stark," he acknowledged, before turning back to join the fight.

She smiled weakly, coughing. "R'hllor, it is the end," she said. "We are defeated. Let this pain stop. Let me die."

Jon Snow, not far from Emmelyne, surrounded by men, managed to climb to the top of the masses. He took in a few long, agonizing gasps for air.

Wun Wun continued throwing men aside from nearby Emmelyne. She realized he was making a clearing as he did this. He let out a roar of pain when a man shoved a spear into his side.

Smalljon Umber and Tormund continued their fight.

And then, a horn was blowing.

There was a moment of pause, broken only by a cry of pain as Tormund ripped out Smalljon's throat with his teeth, then proceeded to stab him the neck.

The banners of House Arryn waved in the breeze, the white falcon with a crescent moon.

None of the army could see them, but Sansa and Littlefinger sat side-by-side at the top of a hill, Rickon and R'hllor stood with them. Sansa was smiling.

The Arryn men broke through the circle of Bolton's, joining the battle. Emmelyne let out a cry of joy from her spot on the ground, propping herself into a sitting position. A man rode toward her on horseback. She noted the sigil adorning his armor, the black, broken wheel of House Waynwood. He leapt from the back of his horse, looking around anxiously. "Can you stand, Lady Stark?" he asked, and Emmelyne shook her head.

He nodded, lowering and helping her to her feet. Emmelyne barely had time to ask questions before he was helping her onto his horse. "Ride for the hill," he stated. "Lord Baelish and Lady Sansa are waiting with you brother and your direwolf."

Emmelyne nodded.

He slapped the horse's side, urging it forward before drawing his sword and clearing away the men at Emmelyne's sides. The horse broke into a gallop, going toward the hill.

Emmelyne didn't allow the horse to go to the hill, however. She turned it around, urging it nearer to the direction of Winterfell. The Starks would soon need to attack the castle, and she wasn't going to sit idly by and wait for it all to be done.

Ramsay turned on his horse and began riding back to the castle. Emmelyne followed him.

When she looked back, Jon, Tormund, and Wun Wun were close behind her.

They reached the castle quickly.

Wun Wun smashed his way through the gate, uncaring of the onslaught of arrows that flew at him. The moment he was through the gates, Wun Wun crumpled. He fell to his knees, blood pouring from a spear wound in his hand. Jon ran to him, and Emmelyne rode closer to his side. Wun Wun groaned with pain as the arrows continued to fly. He let out a roar, his breath leaving a mist in the cool air. The Stark soldiers rushed in around him.

Emmelyne slowly reached out to Wun Wun, placing her hand on his arm. "Stark," he let out weakly, looking down at her.

Tormund rushed in next, his eyes falling on Wun Wun. Jon looked between Emmelyne and Wun Wun. He reached out to the giant as well.

An arrow flew forward, hitting the giant in the eye. There was blood.

Wun Wun fell forward, landing on the ground, dead. "No," Emmelyne whispered. "No, please."

She looked up, her eyes falling on Ramsay Bolton. He smirked, lowering his bow before looking at Jon and shrugging. "You suggested one-on-one combat, didn't you?" he asked.

Stark soldiers raised their bows, staring Ramsay down. He looked around at all of them, laughing slightly. "I've reconsidered. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

He nocked an arrow, and Jon reacted quickly. He dropped, picking up a shield and raising it to block his face. Ramsay loosed an arrow, and it made a thudding sound as it hit the wooden shield. He tried again, but was deflected once more. Each arrow was avoided swiftly.

Jon let out a shout, swinging his shield back and knocking Ramsay to the ground. He dropped down, punching Ramsay hard in the face. He continued this, giving no signs of stopping.

Ramsay's teeth shattered and broke in his mouth.

By the time Jon was done, Ramsay's face was a ruin.

Sansa, Littlefinger, Rickon, and R'hllor entered the yard. R'hllor moved to Emmelyne's side, nudging her horse with his nose.

A man moved to join him, and Emmelyne recognized him as the one who given her the horse. "You don't listen very well, Lady Stark," he noted.

"I had to see us win," she said in response.

The man nodded hesitantly. "I'll find a maester to tend to your injuries. You can't walk, so I'll have to bring one out here."

"Thank you," she said. "Ser...?"

"Markus," he smiled. "Markus Waynwood."