Theon Greyjoy looked around the battlefield with a slight smile of triumph, it was his plan after all that was unfolding before his eyes. He knew that it was Jon and the Greatjon leading the northern defence here and he had been raised alongside the former and fought by the side of the latter. He understood the way they thought and the way they'd act.
Jon was inexperienced, unlike he and Robb, Jon had never been taught to lead men. No doubt the entirety of his success was down to having experienced commanders like the Greatjon by his side.
As for the Greatjon, 'he's a simpleton, an oaf who only ever thinks of attacking, but at least has the sense to retreat when things are too difficult.' Theon scoffed.
It had been entirely too easy for him to come up with this plan.
And now, he was watching as one of the biggest obstacles in the path of his father's conquest of the North was being destroyed. And it was all thanks to him.
But as his eyes panned over the battlefield, he picked up sight of Ghost moving around, and Theon knew from his battles by Robb's side that the Direwolf never strayed too far from their owners. And lo and behold, his eyes picked out the sight of Jon Snow, or would it be Stark now killing Ironborn.
Smirking, Theon notched an arrow into his longbow and pulled back the drawstring. Closing one eye, Theon took careful aim and after taking a deep breath released the arrow at the same time as he exhaled.
His aim was slightly off, the arrow only hitting Jon's right shoulder rather than piercing through his head like he had hoped.
Even so, as Jon looked to him, Theon prepared another arrow in preparation.
"Theon! I'll kill you, you bastard!" There was a moment in which Theon blinked, temporarily shocked by the outburst from Jon, but his usual cocky smirk came back to his face as he took aim.
The arrow was released and struck Jon in the left leg.
Preparing another arrow, he fired, but Jon had the sense this time to avoid it, diving into the mud to one side, just barely avoiding the arrow.
Clicking his teeth in annoyance, Theon fired again, and again, and again. All the while he moved backwards, he having positioned himself just at the far edge of the field in order to be away from the battle and safely pick off people one by one.
It was on his sixteenth arrow that Theon once again struck Jon, the former bastard just a little too slow in avoiding the arrow as it struck his side.
The cocky smirk that had slowly been dropping from Theon's face came back once more. This time, it was not Theon forced to fall back as he fired arrows, but Jon, the bastard having to keep dodging the arrows despite his culminated injuries making it especially difficult.
Another arrow was fired and struck Jon's left shoulder and knocking him to the ground in the mud.
But before the Ironborn could swamp the downed man, Owen Norrey burst forwards, breaking through a clump of Ironborn along with a number of tribesmen. He helped Jon to his feet and began fleeing the battle and Theon watched with a scowl, preparing another arrow in preparation to fire only to hear a battle cry to his left.
Eyes flickering that way, Theon saw the Greatjon and a small clump of his men that still lived fighting their way towards him. They were making excellent progress and as he looked back to where Owen and Jon were, he realised that they were too crowded for him to effectively kill the latter.
Instead, he turned his attention to the Greatjon and as soon as the big man burst through the line and stared murderously at Theon, an arrow struck the man's stomach.
Flashing the Greatjon a smirk, Theon pulled out another arrow.
At the same time, the Theon snapped the arrow with one hand and charged forwards intent on cutting him down. "Yer dead meat, you traitorous squid!" The Greatjon roared, uncaring as another arrow struck his chest and instead carried onto the charge at Theon who looked to be a little panicked at this point.
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Catelyn struggled desperately in the grasps of the Bolton men dragging her through the halls of her home and into the Great Keep. There, at the head of the table sat the man who had attacked Winterfell, Ramsay Snow.
He had come unexpectedly, offering aid to the Starks and she had foolishly believed him, ordering the gates to be opened. And as soon as his men entered the keep, six hundred in all started slaughtering the unsuspecting men defending Winterfell.
Catelyn upon seeing this had turned tail and ran, trying to reach the Godswood where her sons, Rickon and Brandon were with Hodor and the Wildling woman, Osha. Only to be soon cut off by Bolton men and so, Catelyn had ran hoping to draw them away from the Godswood.
She didn't know if she had succeeded.
And as she was dumped on the floor, she looked up to see Ramsay looking at her with a smirk on his ugly face as he looked at her with ambition and hunger. "Lady Stark, welcome." And there was something in the way he spoke that sent a cold shiver down her spine.
The crow that had always sat on his shoulder, now on the table and looking at her with one beady black eye.