Roose was ready to dig his knife into the throat of the next person who spoke. Currently, he and his remaining commanders were sat in the great hall of the Dreadfort, trying to figure out what their next step was. He had four thousand men, the bulk of which were men from the Dreadfort reinforced by men from Highpoint and Karhold. They had enough supplies, thanks to Ramsay raiding Manderly and Hornwood lands, but they still only had half as many men as the northern army, which had just wiped out Ryswell's host at Eagle's Roost.
"We could retreat." Ludd Whitehill offered stupidly.
"Where?" Arnolf growled. "Speak before you think."
Ludd's face somehow grew redder than it already was as he moved his considerable bulk out of his chair, but a glare from Roose stopped the action. The fat lord of Highpoint slowly sat back down, holding tongue much to Roose's relief.
"We can march out and meet them." Ramsay offered. "Catch them while they're on the march."
"They're marching to relieve Deepwood Motte." Roose replied. "Do you know the Wolfswood?"
Ramsay shook his head.
"Then shut up." Roose snapped. "Galbart Glover knows those woods better than anyone. We won't sneak up on them."
"It's better than sitting here on our asses!" Ramsay said angrily.
Roose regarded with a cold glare. "You're free to leave when you want. Take that filthy excuse for a soldier with you. But I wouldn't expect any hospitality from the northern army. They'll take your head, not that you use it."
Ramsay seethed in his seat, but held his tongue. Roose knew that it grated on him when he was treated like a bastard. But Joffrey was soon to be dead, and his letter legitimizing Ramsay into a true Bolton no longer mattered as the boy king would be king no longer as soon as Robb Stark got his hands on him.
Their meeting was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Steelshanks, who looked paler than usual and looked as if he had seen a ghost. It was an expression Roose had never seen from his captain before.
"You better be here to tell me that the sellswords have agreed to join my forces." Roose grumbled.
Steelshanks shook his head. "Ned Stark is alive."
Ramsay glared at the man. "Are you stupid?"
Steelshanks shook his head again. "He was with the Company of the Rose. He's alive and back in the North."
Roose gazed at his captain. He had never lied before, nor had even been fearful of anything. He looked fearful right now. He looked downright terrified. And if Ned Stark was back in the North and seeking revenge, then there was good reason for all those around the table to be terrified.
"You're sure it was Stark?" Roose asked.
Steelshanks nodded. "Aye, my lord. It was the man in flesh and blood. Just as you are in front of me, so was he."
"And he's with the Company of the Rose." Roose said. It was a statement, not a question.
Steelshanks nodded.
"Leave us." Roose commanded.
Steelshanks bowed slightly and left as quickly as he had entered. When he was gone, the table sunk further into stunned silence. Arnolf and Ludd looked ready to shit themselves with fear, while Ramsay looked somewhat amused.
"We're fucked." Arnolf whispered.
"We still have his wife." Ramsay argued.
Arnolf glared at the bastard. "Have you ever met the man? Do you know what he does to traitors?"
Ramsay shrugged. "Why does that matter? He's not his son."
"Who do you think taught the fucking man!" Arnolf roared weakly. "Do not forget. Ned Stark tore down the Targaryens, and they had the armies of the Reach and Dorne. He fought Arthur fucking Dayne!"
Arnolf had risen partially out of his seat, his fear fueling his anger. Ludd was still glaring at the tabletop, probably still processing what he had just heard with his pea sized brain. And Ramsay looked unimpressed.
It didn't matter how much the other men bickered. Roose had already made up his mind. He would throw every last one of his men at the Starks, then head to the Wall with his knife firmly pressed against Catelyn Stark's neck, where he would kill her before taking the Black. Ned Stark's precious honor would never allow him to kill a brother of the Night's Watch. Not even the man who killed his wife.
"What's done is done." Roose said, ending the argument between Ramsay and Arnolf. "We'll dig in here and make them pay dearly if they try to take the castle."
Ramsay nodded excitedly, the mad glint in his eye even more noticeable. Roose always knew that his bastard was a bit off, but like Tywin and the Mountain, he was Roose's mad dog to unleash when needed.
And he would unleash the mad bastard on the Starks. He wasn't sure how, but he would.
Line Break
Osha
The wildling woman gazed out over the snow-covered land, watching as commoners struggled to haul their harvest through the snow towards the castle. But Osha had to give them credit. They struggled day after day to bring in their harvest, fighting against the elements to ensure that they had the supplies needed to live through the winter.
Which was continuing to draw closer and closer.
It had been a rather wild time since Osha had entered the crypts of Winterfell, leaving Theon Turncloak and Lady Stark behind to face the army outside the walls.
Together, the small group of Luwin, Hodor, the two Reed Children, Bran, Rickon, and the two direwolves had hidden in the crypts while Winterfell was put to the torch. They had been safe in the crypts, thankfully, eating the small amount of food that the traitor had supplied them while waiting for the fire above them to die out.
When Osha had made sure that it was safe, the group finally emerged from the crypts. The decision of what to do after was easy: head north. On the way, Meera and Osha had supplied the group with food, catching rabbits and other small creatures. Luwin, who had emerged from the crypts with a satchel of books, had managed to walk a day before he became too weak to walk. That's when Osha had taken over carrying the man. He remained barely conscious during the journey, but came awake for the last time when the group camped in the ruins of an old holdfast on the shores of a lake.
Osha wasn't sure what he did, but the old man had weirdly found the strength to stagger off with his books and was gone for almost an hour before he returned, falling fast asleep as soon as he could.
It was not a sleep he rose from. The old man died in his sleep that night.
Meera and Osha had dug a grave for the old man on a hill about half a mile from the stronghold. Meera's brother had said a small prayer to the Old Gods, with Bran and Rickon adding their own sentiments, before the grave had been filled and the group had continued north. It was just after they reached a river called the 'Last River', which was a stupid name because there were rivers north of the Wall, where things went bad.
That's where the group had split up, much to Osha's objections. Bran said that he was drawn north, past the Wall. He kept saying that he needed to learn to fly and other such nonsense. Osha had refused to let him go, but he, Hodor, and the Reed children had left during the night.
Osha had wanted to go after them, but she had no idea how to follow them because their prints have been covered by the snow. That's when she had given up and helped Rickon get to Last Hearth, home of the Umbers. It had been hard convincing the two stewards who she was and what had happened. Thankfully, the child and direwolf helped her argument and she and Rickon were placed under the protection of the Umbers.
Osha had hoped that that would be the end of it, then an army had appeared outside the castle, demanding that the Umbers join the Boltons. The two stewards had refused, holding to their oath of protecting Robb Stark's youngest brother. The siege hadn't lasted long. Perhaps a month before the army had mysteriously disappeared.
Now, Osha was waiting to see what had happened. She had heard rumors that the northern army, led by Lord Stark's bastard, was back in the North and looking for revenge against the Boltons. Crowfood and Whoresbane had made it clear that they had no intention of going anywhere or sending their men, those that were left, anywhere until there was a clear power in the North.
"Osha?" a small voice said from behind the Wildling.
Rickon had grown much since they left Winterfell, and even since he and Osha had come together almost a year ago. He had been around four name days when they had met, now he was close to six. His hair, curly auburn locks, had grown wild. He still had his baby fat, and his eyes, bright, curious, and blue, were full of confusion and sadness. Ever since his mother and older brother had left them to go to war, he had been confused as to why everyone was leaving. Even when his mother came back for a short while, she never spent any real time with the boy.
Rickon's confusion and sadness got worse when Bran left and Luwin died. He was young, so he didn't understand, and since he didn't understand, he was afraid.
"What are you doing out of bed, little pup?" Osha asked, picking up the child and bringing him back inside. The moon was now high in the sky and she had put the boy to bed just as it was emerging.
"I had bad dream." Rickon whimpered.
Osha set the boy back in the best next to the curled form of his direwolf, pulling the blankets up around him.
"What did you dream?" Osha asked.
"I saw Bran." Rickon said quietly, his eyes shining with tears. "He was at a big wall. He's not coming back."
Osha sighed, soothing the boy's hair. "Your brother has something he must do." she explained. "He will come back."
"Do you promise?"
Osha nodded. "I promise, little pup. Now sleep."
Rickon nodded and closed his eyes. Osha went to leave when she heard the little pup's voice when she reached the door.
"You won't leave?" Rickon asked, his little head just above the wolf's sleeping body.
Osha locked eyes with the child. "I swear it on the Old Gods….and the New."
Line Break
Eddard
Rallying the mountain clans had gone faster than even Ned thought possible. Within a few days, he had a host of a thousand clansmen ready to march and fight. Many of the chieftains whom Ned hadn't seen in years had come as well, answering Ned's call to help him defeat the Boltons.
Brandon Norrey, Torren Liddle, Flints, Burleys, Harclays, Knotts, even old Torghen Flint had arrived with his two sons and his men. All the leaders of the seven strongest clans had answered the call, as well as thirty other clans had arrived at Bucketon ready to fight then and there.
Now, Ned rode at the front of the army with Arya at his side, followed by Syrio and the chieftains.
The clansmen were just what Ned wanted. Each well over two meters tall, towering warriors of fur, leather, and muscle. Most wore toughened leather armor that usually left their arms bare. They wielded iron axes and swords that looked like toys in their hands. Ned knew that they were ferocious fighters, having seen them first hand during Robert's Rebellion.
Bolton's men were in for a fright.
Now, Ned and his small army were marching south towards Winterfell. He knew that once Jon took care of Ryswell's host at Eagle's Roost, he would continue north and retake Deepwood Motte. Or at least send a portion of his host to save the Glovers home. Ned meant to meet up with the host when it began to march west, where it was bound to march close to Winterfell.
"Was he right?" Arya asked suddenly.
Ned looked over at his daughter. "Was who right?"
"Wull."
Ned raised an eyebrow. "Was he right about what?"
Arya pulled an annoyed face. "He said during the feast that either you or Robb had to stay in the south. Was he right?"
Ned nodded slowly, understanding her question. She wasn't wrong. Because of how the war had shaped out, and the responsibility that Robb now had, there was no way Robb could return to the North and not have war break out behind him as people try to sit their asses on that blasted iron chair.
Hugo was unfortunately right. Either Ned or Robb had to stay in the south and rule as king. The obvious choice was Robb. He had been the one who the other kingdoms had rallied around. He had been the one named king by the North and Riverlands originally. And, truth be told, he was thriving in the south like Ned never could. He also had the support of the Tyrells who seemed adept in the games played in the south. They would help Robb navigate them.
"He was." Ned answered finally. "I wish he weren't, but that's the situation we're in."
"Robb's not coming back is he?" Arya said sadly.
Ned glanced at his daughter, once again amazed at how astute she was. She saw life for how it was, an unfortunate truth. Sansa could be a little naive and trusting at times. Arya could be naive at times as well, but she also was able to realize things that other girls, other children, her age wouldn't.
Ned shook his head. "That's a conversation for another time, child. Once we're finished here, I mean to march south and meet with Robb. There are many things that need to be discussed."Roose was ready to dig his knife into the throat of the next person who spoke. Currently, he and his remaining commanders were sat in the great hall of the Dreadfort, trying to figure out what their next step was. He had four thousand men, the bulk of which were men from the Dreadfort reinforced by men from Highpoint and Karhold. They had enough supplies, thanks to Ramsay raiding Manderly and Hornwood lands, but they still only had half as many men as the northern army, which had just wiped out Ryswell's host at Eagle's Roost.
"We could retreat." Ludd Whitehill offered stupidly.
"Where?" Arnolf growled. "Speak before you think."
Ludd's face somehow grew redder than it already was as he moved his considerable bulk out of his chair, but a glare from Roose stopped the action. The fat lord of Highpoint slowly sat back down, holding tongue much to Roose's relief.
"We can march out and meet them." Ramsay offered. "Catch them while they're on the march."
"They're marching to relieve Deepwood Motte." Roose replied. "Do you know the Wolfswood?"
Ramsay shook his head.
"Then shut up." Roose snapped. "Galbart Glover knows those woods better than anyone. We won't sneak up on them."
"It's better than sitting here on our asses!" Ramsay said angrily.
Roose regarded with a cold glare. "You're free to leave when you want. Take that filthy excuse for a soldier with you. But I wouldn't expect any hospitality from the northern army. They'll take your head, not that you use it."
Ramsay seethed in his seat, but held his tongue. Roose knew that it grated on him when he was treated like a bastard. But Joffrey was soon to be dead, and his letter legitimizing Ramsay into a true Bolton no longer mattered as the boy king would be king no longer as soon as Robb Stark got his hands on him.
Their meeting was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Steelshanks, who looked paler than usual and looked as if he had seen a ghost. It was an expression Roose had never seen from his captain before.
"You better be here to tell me that the sellswords have agreed to join my forces." Roose grumbled.
Steelshanks shook his head. "Ned Stark is alive."
Ramsay glared at the man. "Are you stupid?"
Steelshanks shook his head again. "He was with the Company of the Rose. He's alive and back in the North."
Roose gazed at his captain. He had never lied before, nor had even been fearful of anything. He looked fearful right now. He looked downright terrified. And if Ned Stark was back in the North and seeking revenge, then there was good reason for all those around the table to be terrified.
"You're sure it was Stark?" Roose asked.
Steelshanks nodded. "Aye, my lord. It was the man in flesh and blood. Just as you are in front of me, so was he."
"And he's with the Company of the Rose." Roose said. It was a statement, not a question.
Steelshanks nodded.
"Leave us." Roose commanded.
Steelshanks bowed slightly and left as quickly as he had entered. When he was gone, the table sunk further into stunned silence. Arnolf and Ludd looked ready to shit themselves with fear, while Ramsay looked somewhat amused.
"We're fucked." Arnolf whispered.
"We still have his wife." Ramsay argued.
Arnolf glared at the bastard. "Have you ever met the man? Do you know what he does to traitors?"
Ramsay shrugged. "Why does that matter? He's not his son."
"Who do you think taught the fucking man!" Arnolf roared weakly. "Do not forget. Ned Stark tore down the Targaryens, and they had the armies of the Reach and Dorne. He fought Arthur fucking Dayne!"
Arnolf had risen partially out of his seat, his fear fueling his anger. Ludd was still glaring at the tabletop, probably still processing what he had just heard with his pea sized brain. And Ramsay looked unimpressed.
It didn't matter how much the other men bickered. Roose had already made up his mind. He would throw every last one of his men at the Starks, then head to the Wall with his knife firmly pressed against Catelyn Stark's neck, where he would kill her before taking the Black. Ned Stark's precious honor would never allow him to kill a brother of the Night's Watch. Not even the man who killed his wife.
"What's done is done." Roose said, ending the argument between Ramsay and Arnolf. "We'll dig in here and make them pay dearly if they try to take the castle."
Ramsay nodded excitedly, the mad glint in his eye even more noticeable. Roose always knew that his bastard was a bit off, but like Tywin and the Mountain, he was Roose's mad dog to unleash when needed.
And he would unleash the mad bastard on the Starks. He wasn't sure how, but he would.
Line Break
Osha
The wildling woman gazed out over the snow-covered land, watching as commoners struggled to haul their harvest through the snow towards the castle. But Osha had to give them credit. They struggled day after day to bring in their harvest, fighting against the elements to ensure that they had the supplies needed to live through the winter.
Which was continuing to draw closer and closer.
It had been a rather wild time since Osha had entered the crypts of Winterfell, leaving Theon Turncloak and Lady Stark behind to face the army outside the walls.
Together, the small group of Luwin, Hodor, the two Reed Children, Bran, Rickon, and the two direwolves had hidden in the crypts while Winterfell was put to the torch. They had been safe in the crypts, thankfully, eating the small amount of food that the traitor had supplied them while waiting for the fire above them to die out.
When Osha had made sure that it was safe, the group finally emerged from the crypts. The decision of what to do after was easy: head north. On the way, Meera and Osha had supplied the group with food, catching rabbits and other small creatures. Luwin, who had emerged from the crypts with a satchel of books, had managed to walk a day before he became too weak to walk. That's when Osha had taken over carrying the man. He remained barely conscious during the journey, but came awake for the last time when the group camped in the ruins of an old holdfast on the shores of a lake.
Osha wasn't sure what he did, but the old man had weirdly found the strength to stagger off with his books and was gone for almost an hour before he returned, falling fast asleep as soon as he could.
It was not a sleep he rose from. The old man died in his sleep that night.
Meera and Osha had dug a grave for the old man on a hill about half a mile from the stronghold. Meera's brother had said a small prayer to the Old Gods, with Bran and Rickon adding their own sentiments, before the grave had been filled and the group had continued north. It was just after they reached a river called the 'Last River', which was a stupid name because there were rivers north of the Wall, where things went bad.
That's where the group had split up, much to Osha's objections. Bran said that he was drawn north, past the Wall. He kept saying that he needed to learn to fly and other such nonsense. Osha had refused to let him go, but he, Hodor, and the Reed children had left during the night.
Osha had wanted to go after them, but she had no idea how to follow them because their prints have been covered by the snow. That's when she had given up and helped Rickon get to Last Hearth, home of the Umbers. It had been hard convincing the two stewards who she was and what had happened. Thankfully, the child and direwolf helped her argument and she and Rickon were placed under the protection of the Umbers.
Osha had hoped that that would be the end of it, then an army had appeared outside the castle, demanding that the Umbers join the Boltons. The two stewards had refused, holding to their oath of protecting Robb Stark's youngest brother. The siege hadn't lasted long. Perhaps a month before the army had mysteriously disappeared.
Now, Osha was waiting to see what had happened. She had heard rumors that the northern army, led by Lord Stark's bastard, was back in the North and looking for revenge against the Boltons. Crowfood and Whoresbane had made it clear that they had no intention of going anywhere or sending their men, those that were left, anywhere until there was a clear power in the North.
"Osha?" a small voice said from behind the Wildling.
Rickon had grown much since they left Winterfell, and even since he and Osha had come together almost a year ago. He had been around four name days when they had met, now he was close to six. His hair, curly auburn locks, had grown wild. He still had his baby fat, and his eyes, bright, curious, and blue, were full of confusion and sadness. Ever since his mother and older brother had left them to go to war, he had been confused as to why everyone was leaving. Even when his mother came back for a short while, she never spent any real time with the boy.
Rickon's confusion and sadness got worse when Bran left and Luwin died. He was young, so he didn't understand, and since he didn't understand, he was afraid.
"What are you doing out of bed, little pup?" Osha asked, picking up the child and bringing him back inside. The moon was now high in the sky and she had put the boy to bed just as it was emerging.
"I had bad dream." Rickon whimpered.
Osha set the boy back in the best next to the curled form of his direwolf, pulling the blankets up around him.
"What did you dream?" Osha asked.
"I saw Bran." Rickon said quietly, his eyes shining with tears. "He was at a big wall. He's not coming back."
Osha sighed, soothing the boy's hair. "Your brother has something he must do." she explained. "He will come back."
"Do you promise?"
Osha nodded. "I promise, little pup. Now sleep."
Rickon nodded and closed his eyes. Osha went to leave when she heard the little pup's voice when she reached the door.
"You won't leave?" Rickon asked, his little head just above the wolf's sleeping body.
Osha locked eyes with the child. "I swear it on the Old Gods….and the New."
Line Break
Eddard
Rallying the mountain clans had gone faster than even Ned thought possible. Within a few days, he had a host of a thousand clansmen ready to march and fight. Many of the chieftains whom Ned hadn't seen in years had come as well, answering Ned's call to help him defeat the Boltons.
Brandon Norrey, Torren Liddle, Flints, Burleys, Harclays, Knotts, even old Torghen Flint had arrived with his two sons and his men. All the leaders of the seven strongest clans had answered the call, as well as thirty other clans had arrived at Bucketon ready to fight then and there.
Now, Ned rode at the front of the army with Arya at his side, followed by Syrio and the chieftains.
The clansmen were just what Ned wanted. Each well over two meters tall, towering warriors of fur, leather, and muscle. Most wore toughened leather armor that usually left their arms bare. They wielded iron axes and swords that looked like toys in their hands. Ned knew that they were ferocious fighters, having seen them first hand during Robert's Rebellion.
Bolton's men were in for a fright.
Now, Ned and his small army were marching south towards Winterfell. He knew that once Jon took care of Ryswell's host at Eagle's Roost, he would continue north and retake Deepwood Motte. Or at least send a portion of his host to save the Glovers home. Ned meant to meet up with the host when it began to march west, where it was bound to march close to Winterfell.
"Was he right?" Arya asked suddenly.
Ned looked over at his daughter. "Was who right?"
"Wull."
Ned raised an eyebrow. "Was he right about what?"
Arya pulled an annoyed face. "He said during the feast that either you or Robb had to stay in the south. Was he right?"
Ned nodded slowly, understanding her question. She wasn't wrong. Because of how the war had shaped out, and the responsibility that Robb now had, there was no way Robb could return to the North and not have war break out behind him as people try to sit their asses on that blasted iron chair.
Hugo was unfortunately right. Either Ned or Robb had to stay in the south and rule as king. The obvious choice was Robb. He had been the one who the other kingdoms had rallied around. He had been the one named king by the North and Riverlands originally. And, truth be told, he was thriving in the south like Ned never could. He also had the support of the Tyrells who seemed adept in the games played in the south. They would help Robb navigate them.
"He was." Ned answered finally. "I wish he weren't, but that's the situation we're in."
"Robb's not coming back is he?" Arya said sadly.
Ned glanced at his daughter, once again amazed at how astute she was. She saw life for how it was, an unfortunate truth. Sansa could be a little naive and trusting at times. Arya could be naive at times as well, but she also was able to realize things that other girls, other children, her age wouldn't.
Ned shook his head. "That's a conversation for another time, child. Once we're finished here, I mean to march south and meet with Robb. There are many things that need to be discussed."