Reek
He'd forgotten his name many times since his captivity, making vain boasts in the beginning about what he would do to his captors once he got out and got away. Lord Ramsay had shown him the error of his ways then, flogging him and flaying him to an inch of his life. He no longer had three toes on his left foot, he no longer had most of his right hand, his teeth were all broken and his face bore numerous scars. He had tried to escape once, with a girl called Kyra, it had been a trap set up by Lord Ramsay, he knew now, to test him and his strength. He had failed miserably, he'd run with Kyra they had gotten as far as outside the Dreadfort when the dogs had come calling, Ramsay's girls, they'd torn Kyra to pieces, but not before the Lord Bolton had raped her numerous times. Reek he'd flayed, and Reek still bore the scars of that flaying both on his person and inside. No he would not forget his name again.
Lord Ramsay had made use of him though. When he had ridden south to deal with the Ironborn still in Moat Cailin he had taken his reek with him, and made Reek talk with the Ironborn, Reek had gotten them to surrender, and for the first time since Winterfell he had felt proud of what he had done, he no longer felt cowed. At least that was until the men Lord Ramsay brought killed the Ironborn who had surrendered and those that they did not kill were brought back to the Dreadfort and flayed numerous times, Reek from where he slept in the dungeons could hear their screams, and sometimes at night they still haunted him. Of course Lord Ramsay had punished as well though, for traitors were not tolerated by the Bastard of Bolton, and Ramsay had flayed Reek to an inch of his life in the Dreadfort, before they had ridden for Barrowtown.
It was in Barrowtown that Reek met Roose Bolton once more. A boy named Theon Greyjoy had once mocked Roose Bolton, had made fun of his seriousness and those cold dead eyes. Theon Greyjoy had been a fool, Roose Bolton was not someone to be mocked, and he was someone to be feared. Those cold dead eyes always looked around the hall in Barrowtown, watching and assessing as his men and those of his new bannermen eat and drank and talked. Roose Bolton was a cold and calculating man Reek knew, for he saw all the things that Theon Greyjoy had never deemed important enough. He saw how some of Lord Bolton's bannermen were scared of Ramsay but were terrified of Roose, and that was why they were all following him in his little charade.
For after spending a week in Barrowtown the northern party made its way to the ruins of Winterfell. It was said that Theon Greyjoy had burnt Winterfell to the ground and made it a ruin, Reek could not say, though he did remember smoke and ash and the crying of babes as they were taken from their parents. Ramsay Bolton had wed Arya Stark in the Godswood in Winterfell before the north, and so had legitimised his claim to the north. If only the girl was Arya Stark. Reek knew from some distant memory that Arya Stark would never have been so complacent and so meek as she was walked down to the aisle to face her husband, she would have kicked and screamed and bitten any who tried to make her go down. But of course this girl, this girl pretending to be Arya Stark had been friends with Sansa Stark, had watched and emulated as her friend became a true lady, and so she did not scream, not did she bite. No all she did was meekly walk down to the heart tree and say her vows before the north and her husband. It was later, when the bedding was about to occur that the facade the girl had put in place began to crack. She whimpered and gripped on to his arm so tightly, Reek had been afraid that it would snap off.
His lordship had made Reek taste the girl first, whilst he watched. The girl had whimpered underneath his tongue, but soon she began to moan and Reek had begun to worry that perhaps that would make his lordship angry, and that Reek would face severe flaying when they next were alone. But nothing happened, Reek kept his tongue working and the girl kept moaning, and the only sound of his lordship came from his heavy panting. Then his lordship had pushed Reek aside and had him flung from the room, but kept outside the doors so he could listen as his lordship bedded his wife. The screams and the cries still kept Reek awake some nights. The next morning the girl had been shivering and flinching at the slightest bit of movement, not like the real Arya Stark would have, Arya Stark would have fought Bolton back, she would have most likely tried to kill him and would have been killed in the attempt.
Each night Reek was summoned to his lordship's chambers and made to get the girl ready for him, and each night the girl would come apart under Reek's tongue panting and moaning, and then his lordship would enter the room and would claim his rights, sometimes he would keep Reek in the room to watch, and sometimes he would have Reek thrown out of the room but kept in front of the doors so he could hear. It made no difference, Reek could still hear his lordship's pants and groans and the screams of the girl, as his Lordship entered her. Somewhere deep inside of him Reek wanted to scream at Ramsay that the girl he was married to was not Arya Stark, the real Arya Stark was dead, long buried somewhere in King's Landing. He wanted to scream at Lord Bolton that this was all a sham and that the gods would cast them all down to hell, he wanted to scream at the northern lords who stood by and watched silently as an innocent girl was raped and beaten simply so that traitors could claim their reward. Of course though, he said nothing, he kept his mouth shut and prayed and prayed that the days of flaying were over; he did not think he could stand to be flayed once more. He might go mad.
The peace that Reek had found in Winterfell was deeply interrupted when news came from the Wall. Stannis Baratheon had come to the aid of the Night's Watch and had legitimised Jon Sand and made him Jon Stark, Jon had married Alys Stark Robb's widow, Reek did not know Jon Stark nor did he know Alys Stark. But Theon Greyjoy had, Jon Sand had been a solemn and brooding boy when Theon had known him, only laughing and playing when Robb or his sister Jeyne came to play, Theon had thought him boring and had mocked him. Alys Stark had been a beauty, Theon Greyjoy had thought, he had lusted after her but had never pursued her, she was Robb's, and Robb was his friend his brother. Robb was dead though, slain at the Red Wedding by the Freys along with Lady Catelyn and Greywind and countless other northmen and Rivermen. That was not the story that the Bolton's or the Freys were putting out though, they were claiming it had been Robb who had brought the red wedding on himself, that was what they said in the open, but no one paid attention to Reek when they were alone and he heard things, he heard the truth.
Stannis Baratheon had marched west from Deepwood Motte and had taken it from the Ironborn from Asha Greyjoy. She was his prisoner now, and more of the northmen were rallying to his cause. Already he had House Karstark, House Glover, House Mormont, House Wull, House Flint, House Norrey, House Liddle and rumour had it some of the Skagosi tribesmen were coming into help the pretender to the Iron Throne take Winterfell, reporting of boats had been seen of the coast of the Bay of Seals. Tensions were growing in Winterfell though as more and more news of Stannis Baratheon's progress reached them. Tension between the northern houses and the Freys over the Red Wedding, tension between House Umber, Manderly and House Dustin and Ryswell. In the thick of it all was Roose Bolton with his dead and unseeing eyes, who watched and listened to the talk and did nothing.
Except for when a fight broke out between Manderly and Frey men, and Lord Wyman had his multiple chins opened. Then there was a serious fight, and for the first time Reek saw what looked like fear in the Leech Lord's eyes. Stannis Baratheon was a day's ride away from Winterfell, that was what the scouts they had captured had said, Roose Bolton sent men out under Aenys and Hosteen Frey's command to deal with him. He kept the larger part of his strength inside the walls of Winterfell waiting to see what would happen.
There had been deaths within the castle walls before the incident between Manderly and the Freys. It was Frey men dying though, sudden deaths, falling off their horse in the blizzards, falling from the top of the wall whilst on sentry duty. Suspicion had fallen on Reek, but Reek was not Theon Greyjoy and so that had dropped. Then suspicion had turned on Lord Manderly, the man had been overtly happy during and since the wedding and it was curious Reek thought, considering. But no Reek did not believe that Lord Manderly was responsible for the deaths, nor did Lady Dustin. No there had been a hooded man in Winterfell during the wedding and since, he would appear in the castle at the strangest of times and disappear when the bodies of the dead men were found only to reappear once more a few days later, and disappear again. Reek said nothing of the man to anyone, for who would believe him. Half people in Winterfell hated him for a turncloak, though that had been Theon Greyjoy's actions not Reek's and the other half never came near him because of his smell.
When the Freys did not return after two weeks, panic was beginning to set in Winterfell. Roose Bolton's sources in the east coast reported that the Skagosi had landed in the mainland and were heading south, where no one knew but they were heading south with considerable numbers. Lord Bolton sent his son Ramsay out into the bleakness of the Wolfswood with 500 men to see if he could find the Freys and their men. They waited, one day turned into two days, turned into three days turned into a week, and still there was no word. Tensions began to grow and Roose Bolton more often than not could be found in discussion with Rickard Ryswell or Roose Ryswell or Lady Dustin. Two weeks after Lord Ramsay had set out to find the Freys the Skaggs came. Blowing war horns and making guttural noises they came at night and butchered the sentries on the walls, and butchered the guards. But then they themselves were killed, but some of them fled, fled back east and with them was a great big black shaggy direwolf, whom Reek recognised, but from where he knew not.
Then three weeks after Lord Ramsay had been sent out to find the Freys, Steelshanks Walton and Daemon Dance for me returned to Winterfell, bloodied and bruised, and without his lordship. They spoke of the great host that Stannis Baratheon had assembled from Deepwood Motte, 5-6000 northmen and southerners along with some 600 wildlings led by Mance Rayder were marching for Winterfell. They had set upon Lord Ramsay's small part in the Wolfswood and had bloodied and killed the men, his lordship had been badly injured but had fled, to where no one knew. The Freys had been attacked by northmen and southerners caught between the Crofter's Village and the Tumbledown Tower, caught and massacred. Fear was writ plain across Lord Bolton's face. Reek shivered, Winter had finally come for them.
Jon
The wildlings had joined them before they had marched from Deepwood Motte. 600 wildlings south of the wall for the first time since Raymun Redbeard led his failed invasion almost 200 years ago. It turned out that his uncle Benjen had struck a treaty with the wildlings and was having them settle on the gift and help man new castles to help prepare for the oncoming White Walker assault that Mance Rayder claimed was imminent. The man himself was meant to have been burnt in the red woman's fires, but Stannis Baratheon had spared him for the time being, the reason being that Stannis had said quite forcefully that if the Wildings wished to settle in the north they would have to help the north, and that meant fighting the Boltons just now.
Mance Rayder of course had been kept as far away from Mors Umber as possible, Umber lands were always the first to be hit when Wildlings scaled over the wall and as such they had developed a hatred for each other. But the numbers Mance brought with him greatly bolstered their cause, and strengthened their chances. Stannis had listened to his suggestion and had sent scouts on ahead that could give false information to their captors, and as such when their actually scouts had come back and reported that the Freys were marching from Winterfell, Stannis had sent Ser Godry Farring and 500 men with him to the Crofter's Village, and Jon had sent Mors Umber with 500 men to the Tumbledown lands to lie in wait. The trick had worked, with the snow and the blizzards, Farring and Mors were able to lead their men and surround the Freys from both sides, and despite the Freys having bigger numbers Mors and Farring came out on top, that battle had been a massacre, for everyone man of Farring and Mors that died, five Freys died.
As Jon had expected Roose Bolton had begun to worry as the time grew on and went from days into weeks and had sent his bastard to see what the delay was. The snows and blizzards had delayed Ramsay Snow and his men, but Jon had heard tales about the man and his impatience, and had known that it would not be too long before he could kill the man who was wed to his little cousin. The bulk of the host had been kept in the middle of the Wolfswood killing what game they could find and preventing any of the scouts the Bastard of Bolton had sent from getting back to him.
They sent the Wildlings in first. Mance Rayder and 600 wildlings screaming and pounding drums and blowing horns, had spooked the Bastard and his men, their attack had come quickly. Flashes of swords and cries and screams were heard throughout the Wolfswood, the wildlings did not last long but they did what they were supposed to they bloodied the bastard's nose, so that when he marched further north he was caught by more than four times his number. Jon drew Winter's Fury from its sheath and let loose a war cry, screaming for Winterfell, for Robb, for Bran, For Rickon, for uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn, For Arya, for justice.
He spurred his horse on and cut down the first man he came across. After that the battle became a blur of hacking and slashing. He cut down three men within the first few minutes of the fight. He hacked a man's arm off, he sliced a man down from navel to stomach, he cut another man's head off. He kept hacking and slashing, all around him others were doing the same. The screams of battle and pain and agony resounded around the Wolfswood, but Jon did not focus on them no, he was too focussed on killing the men in front of him and of staying alive.
He kept hacking and slashing, his sword piercing through armour and skin alike. Seemingly glowing with the blood it shed, its thirst was not quenched and Jon kept swinging his sword, shouting obscenities as he did so. The battle anger was on him, he kept hacking and slashing and soon both his sword and the ground were stained red. There was hardly anyone left for him to fight.
Ramsay Snow bellowed at him and advanced forward lumbering as he did so, Jon moved forwards to meet him though neither man made any move to strike. Ramsay Snow's patience snapped and swung his sword, it struck Jon's sword but the force of the swing caused sparks to fly off the swords. They broke apart; Ramsay Snow swung wildly again, this time though Jon moved to the left before the swing came and left Snow swinging through thin air. Snow turned around and snarled and ran at Jon, Jon sidestepped him and then quickly thrust his sword into Snow's ribs denting the armour there.
Snow barked in pain, and wheeled round and charged at Jon once more. He swung his sword and this time the force of the swing broke through Jon's defences and struck his armour denting it and causing blood to begin to flow out. Jon grimaced with the pain, but recovered quickly. Soon he and Ramsay were moving through the snow covered ground exchanging blows, their swords clanging through the air, sparks flying and both men were soon covered in dents and bruises and wounds.
Ramsay Snow feinted to the left, but Jon struck him on his right, and managed to break of a piece of his shoulder plate. Snow grimaced in pain but kept fighting, swinging even more wildly than he had when the fight had started. The man's swings did sometimes connect with Jon's body and when they did, Jon felt something like ice hit him, the pain of it causing him to wince and groan in pain. Soon both of their bodies were littered with bruises both visible or otherwise, and both their armours were so dented and stained with red, it looked like so sort of mummer's show.
They were both breathing heavily, but Snow showed no sign of slowing down and charged at Jon again with his sword raised. Jon managed to swerve away from the sword swing at the last minute, and when Snow turned round and charged him again, Jon brought his sword up to block the man's blows. Steel on steel, their dance continued. Sparks flew, and steel screeched, around them the battle was beginning to die down but neither noticed, or even if they did they did not care, this battle would not be truly done until one of them was dead.
Jon feinted to the right, Snow followed him and Jon stretched out his left foot causing Snow to overbalance and begin falling as he did though Snow kicked snow into Jon's face momentarily blinding him, Jon still went through with the thrust though and felt his sword connect with something hard and tough, but then he also felt himself begin to fall backwards, and when his head hit the ground he could not say whether or not he had killed Ramsay Snow or not.
He woke sometime later in a tent, Ghost lying next to the bed. His head pounding in his skull, he tried to get up but the room started spinning and so he flopped back down onto the bed. He closed his eyes, deciding perhaps if he rested for a little while longer he would be better, he slept for the rest of the day. When he woke, the early morning light was beginning to peak through the gap in his tent, his stomach rumbled hungrily. He sat up, and though his head was still pounding he managed to get up and get dressed. Once dressed he walked out of his tent to see what was happening, and what he saw surprised him, they were camped in the Crofter's Village a half a day's ride from Winterfell, the hustle and bustle of the people around him surprised Jon, and his head still pounded.
"Lord Stark," he heard a voice say, and he turned in the direction of the voice and saw King Stannis walking toward him, quickly he bowed. "It is good to see you awake and active again. We were worried that you would not make it."
Jon was confused. "Not make it? Whatever do you mean Your Grace?"
Stannis looked impatient as he said. "When you fought Bolton's Bastard you had him on the floor, yes?" Jon nodded. "Well the man threw snow in your face and it got into your eyes, he then rammed you on the head with the backend of his sword forcing you down, but not before you had broken his armour."
"So is he dead?" Jon asked.
Stannis looked grim when he replied. "No, not that I am aware of. He fled the scene of battle like a craven, though he was bleeding heavily so he most likely is dead."
"And what of the battle Your Grace? How did that go?" Jon asked.
Stannis looked like he was threatening to smile, though his mouth did not change. "We won. Bolton's men were destroyed and killed. The Freys were killed. Roose Bolton is outnumbered now; Wyman Manderly's men found us and have joined our cause. We march for Winterfell."
And so they did, in the cover of a snow storm and the darkness of the night they marched for Winterfell, Jon's head still pounding. When they got near enough to it, the men began to swim through the moat and scaled the wall that was how Jon had heard Theon had taken Winterfell the first time. As he watched the men climb over the wall he kept one hand buried in Ghost's fur, and the other hand on his sword hilt, saying a silent prayer the old gods and the new. He would be the one to kill Roose Bolton; he would avenge Robb and save Arya. When the sound of steel on steel came resounding through the walls and the sound of screams and cries of men in their death throes came and then was silenced, and the gates of Winterfell opened, Jon drew his sword, Ghost howled, and the battle for Winterfell began.
Jon rode his horse through the gates, sword drawn and hacked and slashed at any man who came running toward him, by his side Ghost tore the throat out of any man Jon missed or had not had the chance to kill yet. Soon enough his sword and Ghost's muzzle were stained red with blood. Jon kept hacking and slashing, beside him he heard the men cry and fight and scream as they fought and some died. Briefly he wondered where Mance Rayder and his wildlings were, but only briefly.
He kept swinging his sword and hacking and slashing at any man who came too near him, until the sword was completely red and the ground was littered with dead bodies. The fighting kept going though, men died screaming in agony as their limbs were chopped off or were hacked off. Bolton it seemed was not willing to give up without a fight, and that would make it all the more interesting for Jon.
Eventually though the men in the yard who bore the sigils of House Hornwood, House Cerwyn, House Manderly, and House Ryswell all threw down their swords and surrendered. Jon was sat atop his grey warhorse as Roose Bolton's lifeless body was thrown in front of Stannis Baratheon's horse, a knife through the back, killed by one of his own men. Stannis looked around him a grim expression on his face, and then he looked at Jon.
Jon spurred his mount forward. "You have fought valiantly; you have fought bravely today my lords. But Lord Bolton is dead, his bastard son is dead. The Boltons rule no more in the North. Bend the knee to me and King Stannis and peace shall come to the north. Bend the knee and give me my cousin."
The northmen bent the knee as Jon knew they would, the Stark Banner flapping behind him, though he did suspect they bent more to him than to Stannis Baratheon. As he waited for the men to go and get Arya he looked around the Castle, the place that had been his home for six years. It was a ruin, a burnt ruin. Theon Greyjoy had put it to the torch he had heard, and it seemed so, the castle walls were black and ash was on the snowy ground, he felt something painful stir inside of him.
When they brought forth Arya, he saw her shivering wrapped in a cloak of grey, he dismounted from his horse and walked toward her, and when he got close enough to see her, he stopped dead in his tracks. This girl was not Arya; this girl was one of Sansa's friends, what had been her name Poole? Jeyne Poole that was it. Used as a fake Arya, she had been used to legitimise Bolton's claim to the north and Winterfell. He felt something sick stir in his stomach, something like anger began to boil, if this was Jeyne Poole where was Arya, where was his little cousin, was she truly dead?
He said none of this out loud though, and he kept his silence all throughout the ceremony where the northmen formerly sworn to Bolton bent the knee to Stannis. He kept his silence as Stannis dissolved Jeyne Poole's marriage to Ramsay Snow. He kept his silence when his wife and step daughter arrived in Winterfell several days later, and he kept his silence when Theon Greyjoy was presented to him and he swung the sword that ended that traitor's life.
And when his wife told him she was due very soon he smiled but still he stayed silent. And when Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to every corner of Westeros announcing his victory in the North, still Jon kept his silence. And when the raven came from Storm's End announcing that somebody pretending to be Aegon Targaryen had taken Storm's End still he kept his silence, and when preparations were being made for Stannis's next move still he kept his silence.
He only spoke when his wife put his son, his Stark looking son into his arms and he looked at his boy. He said one thing and one thing only, his son's name. "Rickard."