The Battle of the Bastards: Part 5

IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTES: My laptop's charger just stopped working about an hour ago. And I don't really know when I will be able to get a replacement that will actually work well with my laptop. So, I was already about a third of the way into the next chapter, I decided to write to the near halfway point, polish it a bit and then post it. Sorry to those that I had previously mentioned that this would be the final chapter of the Battle of the Bastards but based on past lessons, it could take me more than a week to get a replacement where I live so I didn't want to leave you hanging for long if worst came to worst.

In other news, my story branch has officially crossed the 200,000-word count so that's neat. Thanks to everyone that supported me enough along the way to inspire me to get to this point.

And finally, I suppose you could argue that there is a sentence in the chapter that could count as a bit of a 4th wall break, given the circumstances. So, if you spot it and mention it in the comments, then have a digital cookie :D

Now, without further ado, read, enjoy, and review!

Epigraph:

So, if we err in our judgments, the very pillars of the sky will shake with the results of the wars to come once the Third Long Night approaches...should this new god attract HIS unwanted attention to our world.

Ramsay Bolton smirked, relishing the sight of the Ice Dragon desperately trying to escape the reach of the spelled boulders. But no matter how hard she twisted and turned, the rocks continued to change directions and continued with their chase. It was only a matter of time before the beast got tired and slowed down, at which point the impacts would bring them crashing to the ground, and then his soldiers could finish them off.

He was snapped out of his thoughts, however, when Steelshanks returned to his side with a sack in his hands.

"I did as you ordered, Lord Bolton," He proclaimed as he showed him the head within. "Jonelle Cerwyn is dead and now her House is no more."

The currently acknowledged Warden of the North nodded in approval. "You have done well. When this is all over, you will have a keep all of your own near Winterfell once you take over the Cerwyn lands."

Then he frowned, realizing what was missing from his sight. "Why is Rickon Stark not with you?"

The man-at-arms winced at the question. "I looked for him on the tent as you asked but found all five soldiers that were guarding him dead and bloodied on the ground. I can only assume someone sneaked behind our lines somehow and rescued him."

Ramsey's face twisted into a snarl at the news, the rage within him returning with a vengeance. Steelshanks swallowed hard as he looked at him but the Lord of the Dreadfort noticed that he visibly calmed down once he had taken a long, deep breath himself. Before long, he schooled his features and turned his head towards the rear of the army filled with wildlings and traitors.

And to the lone Stark banner being carried by a certain redhead woman that was neglecting her marital duties.

"Well," Ramsay said firmly, as he called attention to himself and address the honor guard that surrounded him. "Then that means we need to press our newfound advantage and capture Sansa Stark while the Ice Dragon threatened by flying boulders. Honestly, that will probably be enough to bring the dragon and that pretender down but should they somehow manage to escape the hunt, we need additional leverage over Jon Snow for a proper trap. And without the little lord at hand, then my wife will have to do."

And with that, he looked around at his honor guard, some of the most seasoned, skilled, and loyal killers that had served his family for years. For that, and for becoming absolutely crucial in his plan to cripple Stannis Baratheon's army, he had promoted those 20 good men into his personal honor guard. And now, he needed their killer instincts more than ever as they fight their way to Sansa Stark.

"Not so long ago, you lot helped me deliver a blow that lead to the downfall of a king!" He reminded them, trying to sound as charismatic as he could manage. "You have honored your oaths to House Bolton and helped us enforce our laws and traditions. Now, I am in need of your service once again. Join me in the hunt for Sansa Stark and be handsomely rewarded! More, earn your place in history in the annals of our great kingdom!"

His 20 good men roared immediately and gripped their weapons tightly. Ramsay smirked at that before ordering a large crowd of the less elite bannermen around him, that had started looking less fearful now that the dragon was distracted and in danger, to launch an attack across the enemy vanguard to provide a valuable distraction, promising rewards in exchange now that the last Stark pretender was faltering in the skies. Many still looked hesitant but soon, they readied their weapons and moved forward, probably realizing that if they didn't win the battle they were dead anyway in due time even if they fleed.

Regardless, they obeyed his commands, and as he started running to go around the vanguard, his honor guard followed suit. On the way, he couldn't help but curse whatever trickery their enemies had made that allowed them to make his horses commit mutiny.

Still, it didn't matter. He refused to fail after all this time. And even if he did, he will be damned if he allowed the Starks to reclaim their seat without making them bleed first.

Deep into the underground tunnels below Ironrath, Josera's Snow's eyes returned to their usual color. Then he turned to his twin sister while biting his bottom lip.

"Well?" Elsera asked with urgency. "Is Rickon Stark safe?"

"Yes," He responded. "But while I was listening with Shadow's ears, I learned that he convinced Brienne of Tarth to take him to Lady Sansa instead of the safety of Ironrath through the secret tunnel route. And while the army was already winning even before our king returned on his dragon, I think we should probably go reinforce them just in case."

"Sounds reasonable," His sister replied, but then she hesitated.

The experienced warg frowned. "What's wrong?" He asked. "I thought that our part in preparing the ritual would be mostly done by now."

"It is but that's not what concerns me," Elsera told him. "Remember the bloodline spell I prepared before the battle began? Well, a couple of minutes ago, while your mind was still away, it warned me that Asher was wounded."

Josera's eyes widened in alarm. "Badly?"

"Not that badly from what I can sense," The Blood Magic sorceress assured him. "I believe his armor took the brunt of the blow. But it was still on his torso so it will weaken and make him slower during the rest of the battle. I am worried about him."

The twins looked at each other with concern as they started wondering their next course of action. But suddenly, they heard the melodic voice of the Child of the Forest among them.

"Before you leave, the Old God of the Burning Weirwood wants me to give you a message," Spring announced.

The abrupt declaration was enough for the two bastards of House Forrester turned to her immediately and bowed their heads in reverence.

"We are honored," They replied, almost at the same time.

"He knows you are," The surviving Child of the Forest told them. "And he is grateful for your valuable service in the ritual that he needed to be done. Moreover, he tells me that he has extended his mind through the Weirwood web all the way to the Weirwood tree of the North Grove and quickly became familiar with all your attempts to protect the ancient bastion of the Children of the Forest from the forces of the Long Night."

Josera Snow's head remained bowed but now he couldn't help but smile in delight, pleased that this Old God of his ancestors approved of their actions. He was sure his sister was happy with those revelations as well.

"So, as the most magical living descendants of the family that vowed to guard his sacred place while he started stirring from his long sleep," Spring continued, "And in light of your accomplishments while in service of causes dear to the Children of the Forest, I have been tasked, as the new Oracle of the now Burning Weirwood, to grant you the blessing of the Old Patron God of the Greenseers," She proclaimed.

The experienced skinchanger gaped at that, feeling immense surprise and pride at the news and when he exchanged a glance with his twin sister, he knew similar thoughts were crossing her mind. They stammered their most heartfelt thanks, struggling to come up with words big enough to express their gratitude.

"Your gratitude is noted but not needed," The new Oracle of the Burning Weirwood replied. "All the Old God wants is for you two to use the might of the blessings to serve the Dragonwolf King well. He has high hopes for his rule, you see and, as it happens, he can tell that there is a dangerous sorcerer that hails from a very distant land that is currently threatening King Jon and his Ice Dragon with magic. So, I have been asked to tell you, Josera Snow, to take your blessing towards the western flank of the battlefield and come to your king's aid," She explained. "While you, Elsera Snow, have been tasked to go aid the rest of your family on the frontlines and use your blessing serve the Dragonwolf's cause there."

Josera took a deep breath and after a brief look with his dear sister, they nodded with conviction.

"We won't let you down," The Blood magic witch declared.

"We will serve you and our king well," The powerful warg vowed.

"Then it is settled," Spring pronounced. "And do not worry about the rest of the Starks on the battlefield. I give you my word as the new Oracle of the Burning Weirwood that valuable reinforcements will come to their aid soon. We just need you to focus on breaking what's left of the hostile will of our enemies and to make a big enough distraction to contribute to the end of the enemy spellwork," She explained. "Now approach."

The two of them did just that and bent the knee on principle, staring at the burning face of the ancient weirwood from up close. Then, two branches of the tree itself snapped abruptly, their tips covered in blue flames. A sudden gust of wind carried it to Spring's hands and she looked at them with reverence for a solemn moment. Then, without more preamble, she placed the fiery tips on their foreheads.

Josera resisted the urge to flinch, wanting to be brave before his god but he had nothing to fear as his skin did not burn. It just covered his head as the color blue enveloped his eyes without hurting him and then, it turned to smoke when it entered his nose in its entirety.

Only, that didn't make him cough. In fact, his lungs felt more powerful than ever, as if he could hold his breath underwater for an entire hour. His eyes widened as he felt more strength envelop his body and with a start, he felt his warging might expand to incredible heights within his mind as if the wings of a dragon had taken him higher than any mountain top.

He gasped at the sudden sensations and realized he knew instinctively what the Old God that had blessed him wanted him to do first with this newfound power. And after a quick look at his equally gaping sister, he simply knew that the feeling was mutual.

The last surviving Child of the Forest examined them with her eyes for a moment before nodding, a nostalgic smile on her inhuman lips.

"You have been deemed worthy," The Oracle of the Burning Weirwood declared. "Now go and know that you are now Honored Friends of the Wilds. May the Song of the Earth grant you strength."

Davos Seaworth watched the battle unfold from the walls of Ironrath, a sword sheathed on his side and as he stood at the ready with a crossbow in his hands. However, as the battle continued, he was increasingly doubting that his aid will actually be needed especially after the king he now followed arrived on his powerful dragon, and that was after their army had already gained the upper hand.

It honestly made the former Hand of King Stannis feel conflicted. He knew that he was not a good fighter. In fact, he often dreaded battlefields enough that he could never sleep much, if, at all, the night before a battle and the previous night was no exception. But all the same, he wanted to feel useful and to know that he was contributing to a worthy cause, even if it involved some danger.

Besides, while it was important to help guard the walls and the Forrester ladies that were watching the battle alongside him in case of an attack, he couldn't help but think that he hasn't been able to do much for the cause of King Jon ever since he accepted him as an advisor in his campaign to retake Winterfell. In fact, he hasn't been able to talk with him alone since he became a dragonrider and that was before it even became public that King Robb had named him his heir. It made him wonder if perhaps his services would no longer be needed and soon.

He shared those thoughts with the fire witch that was watching the battle alongside him. And she actually sighed at that.

"Tell me about it," Melissandre of Asshai replied. "Despite you talking me into attempting to revive the new king and my body actually working as a conduit for our Lord's power there, we hadn't really done much for the leaders of this army since. At times, I have even wondered if the Northerner highborn have forgotten about me entirely. Especially since I wasn't invited to that secret meeting that they had before they announced that they had a plan to unleash the power of an Old "God" against our enemies," She said, her words echoing distaste but, curiously, Davos notice that she had a lot less zeal and venom in her voice when referring to a deity other than her Lord of Light.

Davos nodded almost imperceptibly as he remembered the horse rebellion but then he shrugged. "Well...if there is any truth to the power of these Old Gods or whatever it is they actually are when residing within Weirwood Trees, that secret meeting probably took place around one. And I am afraid you have a reputation for burning Weirwoods, Melisandre," He reminded her. "People would naturally be wary of such actions here in the North."

The Red Priestess sighed. "You are not wrong. I suppose I will have to work hard to earn the trust of this new king and his court. I just wish I could interpret my visions better. I fear what could happen if my good intentions could lead another monarch astray."

The smuggler-turned-landed-knight looked at her sharply, realizing that this was the first time he had heard her acknowledge that her actions had led King Stannis down the wrong path in so many words. It actually made him feel better, but not as good as her actually admitting it earlier on when they could have tried to do something about that and perhaps save the cause of the rightful king of House Baratheon.

So, he just sighed, understanding that what was done was done and that the best he could hope for at this point was to find a way to help this new King in the North and the Trident make the future a better place. And preferably, a future where the walking dead were defeated.

Then, the Red Priestess stiffened and tilted her head in confusion. The head of House Seaworth turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"I am sensing...far eastern magic," She said slowly. "A kind of magic I hadn't sensed since..."

Then she gasped a look of horror on her face. "The King is in danger!"

Before he could ask exactly what she meant, the onlookers on the wall watched, stunned, as the boulder the Ice Dragon had dodged abruptly shifted its trajectory in mid-air and started chasing the target that had eluded it, this time smashing the winged behemoth on the back, making her stumble in the air, injured.

"How...how did that happen?!" Mira Forrester asked, shocked.

"The Glovers must have a powerful earth magic sorcerer from Yi Ti!" Melisandre explained in a rush. "I have seen their spellwork before, back in Asshai."

"Well, can you do anything about that?" Talia Forrester, Miras youngest sister pressed on.

For a moment, the woman that showed Davos Seaworth that miracles exist visibly hesitated. But then, she raised her gaze and focused on the skies before them for a bit and then, finally, nodded.

"I can't undo the spellwork by myself," She admitted. "Even if I was sufficiently familiar with that sort of magic, the sorcerer is undoubtedly surrounded by hundreds of guards. But what I can do, is buy our dragonriding king enough time for him to be able to focus on that flank and fire enough blasts of frostflame to disrupt the ritual."

Despite everything, the former Hand of the King couldn't help but smile slightly. After all, he had been asking for a way to make himself useful to House Stark lately. In fact, perhaps some men more devoted than he was would say that he had actually prayed for a chance to prove his worth. Perhaps something or someone had, in fact, listened.

Still, before shaking his head clear of the sense of irony and volunteering to escort her closer to the western trench, they heard a scream of agony nearby. Davos turned his head around frantically. Further along the wall, the elderly skinchanger from the Free Folk that had been aiding their efforts on the battlefield clutched his head in pain, as his eyes ceased to look milky white.

"What happened?!" Asked Gwyn Whitehill, sounding alarmed.

The experienced warg rubbed his forehead and shook his face as if to clear it. "I was spying on Ramsay Bolton just past the frontlines when I overheard him rallying his honor guard to go hunt for Sansa Stark now that he lost her brother Rickon as a hostage. So, I tried to attack the enemy commander but just as I was getting closer to the back of his neck, one of his guards speared the raven I was controlling clean through," The Free Folk explained as he winced. "Argh, that hurt like like hell."

The Red Witch and the Onion Knight glanced at each other but they didn't hesitate for long, each of them understanding quickly where would they best be needed soon.

"Go Ser Davos," Melisandre said with a nod. "Lady Stark could use more help. I will help preserve our King's life while you help save one of his strongest reasons to live. Let's do our duty."

And with them in agreement they started heading to the stairs, while listening to the promise of the elderly warg that he will try to help too, as soon as his head stopped hurting.

A/N: Well, there you go for now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter even though it was supposed to be longer originally. And for the record, I would like to remind you all that since the battlefield for the Battle of the Bastards changed in this fic, Davos didn't find the burnt toy that he gave Shireen Baratheon and ended up suspecting Melisandre sacrificed her. And as you can imagine, Melisandre would prefer to keep that to herself if she can. That can of worms will get opened eventually but since it hasn't yet, it means that Davos and Melisandre are on somewhat better terms right now.

Anyway, thanks for reading everyone. I will reply while I still have power in my laptop and then shift to my cellphone afterward for that task but once that happens, it could slow me down so please be patient if you were expecting a response to your comments/questions. I will try to fix this issue as soon as possible so I can get back to finishing the rest of the battle and until next time guys, see ya!