Battle of The Bastards

Torrhen had taken Jon, Sansa and Lady Mormont, to meet with Ramsay, the other Lords were busy making sure the men were ready to move at a moment's notice. They were sat on their horses looking up at Winterfell as a small party bearing Bolton banners approached. Torrhen looked around and saw the Stark family banner flying proudly, before looking back up at Winterfell.

"I haven't seen it since everything turned to shit." Jon said.

"Last time I saw it I was escaping that monster." Sansa snarled.

"Remember, nobody call him by his father's name, he is a Snow." Torrhen ordered, as Ramsay Snow came into view. The Bolton party halted a few paces in front, and Ramsay looked at the three Starks.

"My beloved wife." He said to Sansa, before turning to Jon. "Thank you, bastard, for bringing Lady Bolton back to me. Now all of you, dismount and kneel before me, proclaim me Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Take off that stupid crown and turn yourself over for execution I will pardon the others, Stark. The bastard for deserting the Night's Watch, the Lords and Ladies for betraying House Bolton."

"Lord Stark here was legitimised not two days past and given lands to the North." Torrhen said to Ramsay. "The only bastard here, is you Snow." Ramsay flared his nostrils in anger.

"You are a rebel traitor, your word means nothing." Ramsay told Torrhen, who just chuckled.

"It means enough that the majority of the houses in the North now follow me. I'll offer you terms now. Surrender Winterfell, surrender yourself and I will be merciful to those who follow you, but you will die for your crimes against the North." Torrhen told him.

"And why would I do that?" Ramsay asked. "We have more men, and we have Winterfell."

"We could always do this the old-fashioned way." Jon input. "Single combat, me against you."

"Why, is your king afraid?" Ramsay mocked.

"No, he just feels it's not a King's place to fight a bastard." Jon added, enraging Ramsay again. Torrhen was pleased.

"I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you, you're the greatest swordsman who ever walked." Ramsay chuckled. "Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don't know if I'd beat you, but I know, that my army will beat yours. I have 12,000 men. You have, less. I have Winterfell, you have a pile of tents."

"Aye, you have the numbers." Jon admitted. "Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?

Ramsay stared at Jon for a moment before laughing again. "He's good. Very good. Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you're too proud to surrender?"

"How do we know you have him?" Sansa asked quickly. Ramsay smiled at her and nodded to the Smalljon, who stared directly at Torrhen as he put his hand in his bag and pulled out the black and brown covered head of Rickon's wolf Shaggydog and threw it on the ground. Torrhen cursed silently.

"Now, if you want to save…"

"You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton." Sansa interrupted him. "Sleep well."

With that Sansa rode off towards the camp. Ramsay watching her as she went, and Torrhen didn't like the lustful way his eyes followed her. "She's a fine woman, your sister, I look forward to having her back in my bed. And you're all fine-looking men. My dogs are desperate to meet you; I haven't fed them for seven days, they're ravenous. I wonder which parts they'll try first. Your eyes? Your balls? We'll find out soon enough. In the morning, then." Ramsay said to them all, before looking at Jon once more. "Bastard."

Ramsay and the Bolton party rode away, and Torrhen was grinning slightly, which Jon noticed. "What's made you happy about that?"

"He's jealous of you look, I'm a king and all he cared about was you." Torrhen said, before turning his horse and leading the Stark party away to make the final preparations.

"If he was smart, he'd stay inside the walls of Winterfell and wait us out." Jon said, pondering over the map in Torrhen's command tent.

"If he was smart, he wouldn't have flayed Lords and Ladies of the North. He isn't smart." Torrhen said. "He met us and goaded us with Rickon, he means to make us act rashly, we cannot do that."

"He knows that the entire North is watching, there are still some Houses that haven't declared out of fear for him. Fear is his power." Davos said.

"It's his weakness too." Jon said. "If his men feel the tide turning…"

"It's not his men that worry me, it's the horses." Tormund put in. Torrhen hadn't been sure of including him in the meeting, but Jon had insisted. "I've seen what mounted knights can do to a man."

"We have the same number of cavalry, that isn't the worry." Ser Wylis said. "He has the better terrain."

"We have to break through quickly, try and surround as many of them as we can." Torrhen said.

"We have the trees behind us, we can use them." Cregan said. "Hide the horses in the Wolfswood, he doesn't know how many we have, show him our infantry and when they begin to ride…"

"We'll be further away than we want to be." Davos protested.

"Davos is right, first point of call is the charge with the horses, we charge and he will have to counter. If we're on the front foot then we can break him." Torrhen said. "Jon, Ser Wylis, I'll leave the cavalry in your command."

"Your Grace." They both bowed.

"Cregan, you have the archers." Torrhen said.

"Fire into the Bolton cavalry until our forces clash with them." Asher Forrester input. "Don't let them fire on our own men, we'll have enough problems without slaughtering our own men."

"Aye." Cregan agreed.

"I'll be with the foot. We'll rush in as the cavalry clash." Torrhen said. "I can't fight as well on horseback."

"Is that wise, Your Grace?" Davos asked.

"It's what will happen, Ser Davos. I've survived this far." Torrhen grinned.

"That's a plan then, what about taking Winterfell?" Jon asked.

"Tormund, your giant, how much can he take?" Torrhen asked.

"A lot." Tormund said confused.

"Keep him on the edge of battle, pressing into any weak points if they arise." Ser Wylis suggested.

"Just tell him to make sure he lives, I heard about how he took down the gates of Castle Black easily, we need him to do the same tomorrow." Torrhen said.

"What about the wolves? They could be useful." Davos said.

"In the Whispering Wood they were useful, the ambush at Oxcross was Grey Wind's finest hour in battle, but this is a different matter entirely." Torrhen sighed. "It's too open, full armies clashing together is not the place for them, Sansa, they can stay with you."

"Your Grace." Sansa nodded from the corner. Torrhen noticed that she wanted to say more, but wouldn't in front of everybody else.

"Very well, Jon I want a word for a moment, the rest of you get some rest. Tomorrow we take Winterfell." Torrhen dismissed them, pretending not to hear the many 'Your Grace's' that were said.

"So the battle plan is drawn." Sansa said mockingly.

"Is there a problem?" Torrhen asked, eyebrow raised.

"Did it not occur to you that I might have some insight?" She asked.

"What would you have us do then sister?" Jon asked. Sansa hid her emotions well at that word.

"He won't fall for a trap."

"He's angry and he's rash. Let him think that he has the advantage and he'll try and take it at full pelt." Torrhen noted.

"We need more men." Sansa argued.

"From where?" Torrhen asked, flapping his arms in exasperation. "Has your friend written you back?"

"What friend?" Jon asked, but Torrhen waved him off.

"Not yet…"

"The Tully's can't join us, the Arryn's are god knows where and our home is being occupied by a fucking bastard of a murderer. That bastard holds our brother! I will not wait, the plan is good and we have enough men to make a difference."

"Rickon's as good as dead." Sansa said quietly, bringing the tone down.

"How can you even think that?" Jon asked.

"She's right Jon, we do our best to free him but Ramsay knows he is our weakness." Torrhen sighed. "Think of him as dead now and it will be easier."

"Easier? How can you even say that Tor?" Jon asked, disgusted.

"I watched my brother dangle from a castle with no skin because of that man's father. I watched my sister blown overboard because of that fucking cunt." Torrhen snarled. "That family is as good as any Stark killer can get, and he has one of us in his clutches, you'd be a fool to think Rickon will escape this."

"I won't believe that. We will get Rickon back." Jon said defiantly, striding out of the tent. Torrhen sat down with a thud, rubbing his temples with his maimed hand.

"He's naïve." Sansa said, pouring Torrhen a cup of ale. "He's never been to the south, his own brothers killed him and he still doesn't know treachery."

"I fear I'll lose him forever tomorrow, even if he survives the battle, if I get my hands on Snow…"

"He's angry at Ramsay too." Sansa interrupted. "You should have seen him when that letter came."

"I know, but Sansa…" Torrhen trailed. "What he did to you, what he's taken from me. My friend, my betrothed, our sister."

"We will make him pay." Sansa said proudly, kissing Torrhen on the forehead. "Get some sleep Tor, you need it."

"One more thing." Torrhen said, standing up and going to the corner of the tent and pulling out Riversteel, the Valyrian Steel sword with Tully colouring. "I want you to have this for now. I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but I want you protected."

Sansa took the sword gingerly. "I don't know how to use it." She admitted.

"Stick them with the pointy end." Torrhen smiled, remembering Arya. Sansa started to laugh, and soon Torrhen joined in.

Torrhen and Jon rode forward through the lines of Stark loyalists to reach the front line. In front of them were a number of burned and flayed corpses, and a large host of Bolton men that stretched as far as the eye could see. Torrhen noticed that a horse was coming forward through the enemy lines, and he saw Ramsay dragging a curly haired boy along. Rickon. Torrhen cursed inwardly, thinking the worst. He immediately dismounted and strode quickly to Cregan.

"Give me a bow." Torrhen ordered, and a bow and a few arrows were forced into his hands. Jon was staring on at Rickon throughout this. "Cregan, take my horse and your mission is to get Rickon and take him to safety."

"Your Grace." Cregan Glenmore nodded, mounting onto Torrhen's Horse as the Stark took aim, flexing his maimed hand on the wood of the bow, hoping that he was still as good. Ramsay was too far away though, and Torrhen sucked in a breath when the Bolton bastard held up a knife for all to see. Jon dismounted and walked forward, in front of the lines, watching on. Torrhen let out a long breath when Ramsay cut the rope that was binding Rickon, and continued aiming towards the Bolton forces as Ramsay spoke to Rickon, and pushed him forward so Rickon was walking to the Stark forces, before a bow was produced and Rickon began running. Jon rushed back to his horse, and galloped forward with Cregan not far behind him.

Torrhen swore, and ran forward as close as he could to get a better shot. One arrow was fired, and missed Rickon by a foot. A second arrow was fired and overshot Rickon, and another arrow was fired and missed again. It looked like Jon would reach Rickon, but Torrhen saw another arrow being prepared to fire. He planted his feet in the ground, out of range of Ramsay but in range of his brothers, he took a deep breath and waited. Ramsay fired the arrow, and it looked like it was heading straight for Rickon's back. Torrhen fired too, watching in slow motion as his arrow struck Ramsay's arrow, splitting it in two. He breathed a short lived sigh of relief until he realised that Rickon had still gone down. While one half of the arrow had sailed harmlessly over Rickon's shoulder, the other half had shot downwards, entering Rickon's lower back.

Torrhen noticed Jon stop in horror, as Cregan pulled up to Rickon, got off his horse to swing Rickon on the back, before mounting again and rushing as fast as he could back to camp. As they went past Torrhen, the king shouted "DON'T STOP! SAVE HIM!" before he looked back towards Ser Wylis. Throwing the bow to the ground he unsheathed Winter's Bite and pointed to Ser Wylis and the cavalry, before thrusting his sword towards the Bolton forces. The cavalry began to charge, but Jon was racing off alone. Torrhen ran forward, being overtaken by the cavalry quickly and he could only watch as Jon's horse took an arrow, and he was left on foot to face the Bolton cavalry who were also marching. He was left watching Jon until Torrhen lost sight of his cousin in the middle of the cavalry clash. He watched as arrows planted themselves into soldiers from both sides, as Ramsay Bolton ordered a volley of arrows. Almost at where the fighting was happening he roared, and charged into the fray.

He had lost Jon completely, and was left hacking at any Bolton man he could find. It wasn't long before Winter's Bite was coated red with the blood of Bolton men. One man charged at Torrhen, who deftly parried him to the side and swung backwards, opening his chest. The constant volley of arrows coming from the Boltons were creating a wall of bodies as men fought on top of dying men, adding to the pile.

A roar from both behind and in front of Torrhen got him to notice that both sets of infantry were marching. Splitting open a mans skull, Torrhen turned around to find Jon but was blindsided by the fist of a Karstark man. On the floor and barely parrying the Karstark soldier's blows, he was relieved when a sword pierced through his attackers chest, and Torrhen noticed that Tormund was his saviour. Tormund offered his hand, which Torrhen gratefully took. Nodding to the wildling, he went back to the battle, killing any Bolton, Umber or Karstark man he could.

Thousands lay dead or dying, you couldn't look anywhere without seeing bodies, and they were still no closer to breaking through the Bolton lines. It had become a free for all, a battle unlike any Torrhen had seen in which it was simply kill as many men as you could. Looking around, Torrhen just stopped to see either the Bolton forces or walls of dead men surrounding all of them, they'd been double enveloped and Bolton shields surrounded them all.

"The fucking pincer!" Torrhen shouted. "BREAK THROUGH, HOWEVER YOU CAN, WHEREVER YOU CAN!" He roared, but it didn't look like it would be any use. Pikes thrust through the lines of shields, killing the men closest to them, and over the wall of bodies came more men loyal to Ramsay Bolton.

"Fucking Flints." Torrhen swore, as he noticed the sigil of House Flint following his old friend, Smalljon Umber. Torrhen rushed through his men to meet the Smalljon in one on one battle.

"Torrhen fucking Stark, it pains me we meet as enemies!" The Smalljon bellowed.

"You fucking traitor!" Torrhen roared.

"You're the traitor for allowing those savages to settle!" The Smalljon shouted back, before meeting Torrhen's Valyrian Steel sword with his own. They clashed fiercely, with blow after blow filling the air with the sound of steel. The Smalljon was powerful, but Torrhen was quicker. Ducking under the swing of the Smalljon he pivoted around and slashed his sword upwards, cutting into his back. The Smalljon sank to his knees in agony as Torrhen grabbed the long hair of his once friend, whispered a prayer asking the Greatjon for forgiveness and severing the Smalljon's head from his body. Torrhen roared as he lifted the head up for all to see, inciting a small fightback from his surrounded men, until a noise made everyone stop.

Horns began blearing in the distance, and after a while searching for the source, Torrhen saw thousands of mounted men charging towards the battle. He was concerned for a while until he saw the sigil blowing in the wind, the crescent moon and falcon of House Arryn. He cried in relief, regaining his adrenaline as he fought his way up to top of the body pile. He stood and watched as Wun Wun grabbed a shield and began beating Bolton men with it, he watched as Arryn Knights mowed down the Bolton forces. Most of all though, he looked to the hills and saw the gleaming ginger hair of his sister in the distance.

Torrhen felt weak, and his legs buckled under the pressure and the last thing he saw was Sansa riding towards him as he tumbled down the wall of bodies.

He wasn't out for long, as he awoke to see Sansa standing above him. "Tor, you're alright." She breathed, helping him up.

Groaning, he stood up straight, Winter's Bite still in his hand. "I think so, any way." He gasped. Sansa took out a water pouch and forced some down his throat.

"Jon's gone to Winterfell, we need to join him." Sansa urged and Torrhen nodded, getting on Sansa's horse behind her and riding hard for the castle.

They got there to find Wun Wun lying unmoving on the floor and Jon straddling Ramsay Snow, viciously beating the Bolton bastard. Looking on, they somehow caught Jon's attention mid-punch, and he stopped to look at them. Calming down, Jon got off of Ramsay, and after one final glare he walked away.

"I want every Bolton banner, every remnant of that fucking sigil burnt to ashes!" Torrhen ordered, still feeling slightly uneasy as Sansa propped him up, and with that men started rushing around, lowering the Bolton banners to the floor to be gathered up, and Torrhen and Sansa watched on as Stark banners were put up once more.

"We did it." Sansa said relieved. "We actually did it."

"We did." Torrhen breathed. "Winterfell is ours again."

Torrhen had washed his face briefly, and was back outside helping to move the wounded when Cregan Glenmore came in with another man holding a stretcher. Torrhen moved quickly towards him, but Cregan just shook his head solemnly.

"The arrow struck his innards, he bled out not long after." The Glenmore heir said solemnly. "We tried…"

"It isn't your fault." Torrhen said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Take him to the crypts, bury him in the tomb two away from my Father's. Then find Asher and join me in the kennels."

"Two away?" Jon asked from behind Torrhen, grimacing at the sight of Rickon.

"Robb will go next to Father, and opposite Robb is where I will go." Torrhen said. "After everything is cleared from today we will have both of their statues prepared."

"Aye, Your Grace." Cregan nodded respectfully, before taking Rickon away. Sansa had also joined them.

"Where is he?" She asked.

"This way." Torrhen said, gesturing towards the kennels. "Jon, are you coming?"

"This is your vengeance." Jon said, shaking his head. "Just make it painful."

"Aye, we will." Torrhen said fiercely, leading Sansa to where Ramsay was chained up.

Ramsay awoke to find both arms, legs and his neck were chained to a cross, with nothing but his trousers on. Flexing his fingers he looked around and saw Sansa standing the other side of the metal gate. "My beloved wife." He said. At that moment a fierce looking Torrhen came into view, placing his hand on his sisters shoulder. "Torrhen Stark, you still can't kill me."

"I will kill you. The biggest mistake I ever made was caring for my family more than my wish to kill you at Ironrath." Torrhen told him. "But first, I need you to suffer. To suffer at the hands of those you have taken people away from." Asher Forrester and Cregan Glenmore came into view too, and Torrhen unlocked the gate to let them in. "You both have half an hour, just don't kill him." Torrhen said, as he watched with Sansa as the two men beat Ramsay ferociously in retaliation for Ethan, Talia and Arthur.

They were both done in 10 minutes, spent, and noticing that Ramsay was close to death as it was. They departed the room swiftly, and Torrhen stepped up to Ramsay, twirling a sharp knife. "You know, I was surprised to search my father's rooms and see this knife on the table." Torrhen said. "But then I realised what it was, this is the knife your father used to flay my brother and his wife. The knife you used to flay Talia, and Arthur, isn't it." Torrhen said, but Ramsay refused to answer. "ISN'T IT!"

"Yes." Ramsay breathed out, grinning as much as his broken face could manage.

"Thank you for being honest." Torrhen said. "You can go and meet the gods an honest man."

Torrhen took the knife and cut open the mans trousers, revealing everything. "Tell me what parts he touched you with Sansa."

"Both of his hands." Sansa said, and Torrhen nodded, pulled a butcher's cleaver out and hacked both of Ramsay's hands off. The Bolton bastard screamed in pain.

"What else?" Torrhen asked politely.

"His tongue." Sansa said emotionlessly. Torrhen threw the cleaver to the floor and focused on the Bolton knife. He forced Ramsay's mouth open and pulled his tongue out as far as he physically could, before slowly sawing it off with the knife. Once he was done he threw the offending item to the floor to join Ramsay's severed hands.

"What else?" Torrhen asked again.

"His cock." Sansa shivered, but still looking on fiercely. Torrhen reached down and grabbed Ramsay by the dick, and in one swift motion severed it. The muffled scream was almost inaudible by now as Ramsay was fading from life, and Torrhen knew that he had done enough.

Leaning in to Ramsay's ear he whispered. "Believe it or not, my sister has a worse fate for you." Before he stepped out of the room and allowed Sansa to have some final words with him. Not listening in he watched on with glee as Sansa taunted him about the hounds, and watched on as Ramsay struggled to command his pets, taking Sansa's hand as Ramsay's hounds tore at his flesh savagely.