The Battle of the Bastards: Part 3

A/N: Happy Belated Holidays, everyone! I wanted to update before the end of the 25th but constant celebrations through the week made that impossible. Still, I really hope you enjoy this belated Christmas gift to you all. And moreover, now that I have recovered much more, I will do everything I can to post more chapters before New Year this coming Saturday. Not sure how far I will make it into this binge before all is set and done but I am in a festive mood and the climax of Act One is almost complete along with Story Arc Seven. So, wish me luck and for now, enjoy the chapter!

Epigraph:

They'll be happier that way. I doubt they would have any inkling of what to do with me should they actually catch me.

Especially if I tell them who exactly you have been backing on this planet.

Battlefield near Ironrath: The North

Lyanna Mormont, ruler of Bear Island nocked yet another arrow and fired at one of the enemy soldiers, smirking the entire time. She had grown up on stories of Robert's Rebellion that her late mother used to tell her, marveling at the bravery of the greatest warriors in the conflict. Since then, she had dreamed of one day proving her worth in the field of battle and while she was still too young for that when the War of the Five Kings began, she was finally getting her chance that night. And the fact the leaders of the enemy rebellion against her rightful liege was also one of the architects of the Red Wedding that got all of her sisters killed only spurred her to fight harder, determined to make the Bolton traitors pay.

And to make matters sweeter, the bulk of the enemy vanguard was being smashed into pieces ever since the Old God of her ancestors chose to intervene on their behalf and turned the enemy horses against their riders; while the bulk of their own army took the moment of chaos to press their advantage. Lyanna glared at another dazed soldier from the top of her white horse as he got up from the ground while gripping his sword tightly, another arrow of hers finding his chest before he could find his lost shield.

Nodding to herself she addressed her bannermen nearby with a loud yell, trying to make herself heard over the sounds of combat.

"Men of Bear Island!" Lady Mormont called out as the standard-bearer at her right took this as his cue to wave it. "We may not be a large House but we were the first to answer the call of our rightful King! Let's remind these enemy mainlanders that every one of us is worth 10 of them! LET'S FREE THE NORTH!!!"

The sound of shields clanging echoed across her side of the field as the warriors under her command roared at their enemies in a way that would impress even bears. Then they rushed forward, eager to do their part to break the Bolton's hold over their homeland.

Urging her horse onwards, she hurried to ride alongside them and placed her bow around her back; taking that moment to grab her ax. It was just in time too, for a nearby thrown-off soldier had shaken off his confusion and raised a blade against her once he spotted her instead of trying to make a tactical retreat to regroup at the rear like so many of his allies seeme to be heading to. Lady Lyanna narrowed her eyes, realizing the Bolton loyalist was trying to take her head to bring it to Ramsay so that he could claim Bear Island as a reward.

"As if it were his to give," She thought, feeling insulted as her horse closed the distance between them before any of her personal guards could catch up to her.

At the last moment, she made her horse break into a gallop in a way that made her enemy flinch instinctively at the thought of being trampled but the ruler of Bear island took advantage of his hesitation to bring down her ax with a quick, wide motion, caving his face in before he could slash at her; blood flying towards her head.

Lyanna watched her opponent fall flat on his back on the ground and, now bathed in his blood, took a moment to raise her ax high above her head and gave a roar of her own.

"Join me in victory, friends! HERE WE STAND!"

"HERE WE STAND!!!" Her loyalist echoed the motto of House Mormont, cleaving and spearing their way forward as they rallied to her side.

Near the center of the frontlines, Princess Val jumped over a small but growing pile of corpses, her shield held high and her ancestral blade ready for more as she moved closer to their still-living enemies.

She quickly cut down another of her foes before slamming the face of the one beside him with her shield, stunning him with it before thrusting hard enough to penetrate his mail armor. Then, the recently acknowledged leader of the Free Folk kicked him in the chest to remove her blade from his torso even faster and spun to her left to behead a slower enemy that tried and failed to catch her off-guard.

Breathing deeply, she took a moment to look around as her men advance around her and clashed with every Bolton soldier they could get close enough to and nodded almost imperceptively. The battle was going even better than she thought it would, especially now that the Old God of the Burning Weirwood choose to aid them. But while they had managed to press the advantage once the tide was turned, she could tell that their enemies were starting to recover from the initial shock and many seemed to have decided to stand and fight, either because they had no room to flee to safer grounds or because they were afraid to turn their back to the enemy in front of them and get routed while fleeing.

Whatever the reason, the riderless men were starting to form pockets of resistance across the frontlines, trying their hardest to stay alive. And that, she could respect to a degree.

But then, she narrowed her eyes when she realized that the enemy lines of archers further back into the Bolton host were getting their bows ready, seemingly getting over the concerns that their waves of arrows would inevitably inflict heavy losses on their own vanguard then with the way the battle had shifted. Still, she could still decrease the damage to her own side. So, climbing another pile of corpses she quickly made a loud clanging noise when the flat part of her blade hit her shield and she yelled the next orders at the top of her lungs.

"Prepare for the archers! SHIELD WALL!!!"

This time, her followers couldn't move and organize fast enough for the much wider shield wall formation from earlier but her warning enable dozens of smaller groups to raise their shields in unison preparing for the incoming wave of arrows. And come it did, as she watched the hundreds of sharp projectiles rain down from the sky with her teeth gritted, bracing herself.

Some of the warriors and spearwives around her were inevitably injured by the barrage but as she expected, many more of the Bolton men succumbed to this **** tactic, which made her lips curl as she stared at the screaming soldiers grimly.

The archers hurried to nock a second wave in record time, but she couldn't help but feel a touch of pride as she stared at soldiers around her holding themselves together firmly and trying to cover the gaps with their shields as best as possible.

"Their discipline and their sense of military cooperation is improving," The new Princess of the Free Folk thought to herself, pleased with the realization that they had been taking her orders and previous training exercises all through the week even better than expected.

Then the arrows came and she inhaled sharply, the ironwood shield clearly remarkably tough but it still got dented. She wasn't sure how many more blows it could take.

Before she could contemplate giving her men another order, perhaps advancing forward while maintaining their shield wall to get closer to the archers, she heard the ground tremble beneath her feet and smirked fiercely as she realized what it meant.

The giants had started their colossal advance now that there were more maneuverable gaps across the vanguard. And about half of them were riding their mammoths directly into the enemy archers.

Val stared as the Giant Chieftess send three armored men flying at the same time with a wide hit of her very long war hammer before her huge mammoth trampled enemy soldiers that failed to get out of the way and couldn't help but chuckle at the morale raising spectacle. "Happy smashing, Magash."

And with that, she urged her men forward as she howled orders in a snap, yelling at them to rush towards the archers with haste.

Flying through the clouds, Jon finished explaining to Arya that he was going to magically transport her behind the rear of their army despite her objections, now that they were about to arrive.

"This is not negotiable," The King of the North and the Trident said firmly. "Unlike the other times I have fought our enemies on dragonback, I am going to have to get much closer to the ground this time in order to minimize the chances of me killing waves of our own loyalists by accident. Frostflame does not discriminate if I am not aiming it properly. But that means I am going to be a bit more exposed to attacks from their archers. And before you mention it, don't worry, I have that handled, but I don't want you on the air when I start."

Arya scoffed, clearly displeased. "Can I at least try to take this opportunity to use Dark Sister for the first time against Bolton scum?"

"If they hadn't surrendered when you cross their path, then sure," Jon said in a placating tone. "But if they do surrender, I don't want you to kill them in cold blood. They may have followed traitors but I am sure many of them had no real choice in the matter when Boltons called the banners that would answer them. I don't want this civil war to end in a massive rout. The North's military strength has been weakened enough as it is."

"Fine, but if I get my hands on Ramsay before the battle is over, I am going to gut him like a fish even if he kneels before me," She declared in a determined tone. "I draw the line when it comes to that monster."

The young god took a deep breath before nodding slowly. "Very well," He said in acceptance neutrally, while inwardly thinking that he was going have to hurry so he could get to Ramsay before she did.

After all, while Arya may want to compensate for feeling frustrated that she wasn't there for her pack while Ramsay and his father wreaked havoc on her home and family, the King of the North and the Trident would much prefer to have him publicly executed once the battle was done.

And besides, he had another sister with a bigger right to spill his blood...

Jon's snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the clash of battle and urged his mighty she-dragon to get them out of the clouds. Then, he studied the battlefield, noting the placement of the warriors on both sides and feeling proud and relieve to realize that his own army seemed to be the one with the upper hand despite the fact he hadn't been able to help them until that moment. Squinting his eyes, he saw that at both flanks of his army, curved black lines scored the earth where trenches had been excavated to protect them from cavalry charges. And further ahead, the forces of giants were utterly dominating the front lines, crushing everything in their path with hammer, shield, and mammoth no matter how many arrows were sent their way.

Despite everything, a thrill of feral excitement ran through the young king, and he felt his powerful companion shiver underneath him at the same time. He gripped the hilt of Longclaw from its sheath on reflex and realized it was only a matter of time before one of the three pillars responsible for the Red Wedding crumbled entirely.

Justice for his family was within his grasp.

"They don’t seem to have noticed us yet," Arya remarked, her tone full of anticipation. "Shall we announce our arrival?"

Nodding in agreement, the secret god shared his feelings with his familiar through their magical bond, and then, the only tamed Ice Dragon in the known world answered him by losing a roar that made his teeth rattle and by painting the sky in front of them with a thick sheet of blue frostflame.

Below, the advancing Stark loyalists and the increasingly battered Bolton forces upon the snow-covered ground paused, and for a moment, silence enveloped the battlefield. Then his followers began to cheer and bang their spears and swords against their shields while great groans of despair wafted from the soldiers from the enemy camp.

Arya laughed at that, the sound thick with excitement. "Now that's an entrance worthy of a song I would actually care to listen to."

And with that, Jon made a silent wish to get her to a much safer but still accessible position much closer to Ironrath before twisting the chains downwards to urge the she-dragon to follow. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at one of the many banners of the flayed man and steeled his mind.

"This one is for you, Robb," He proclaimed, just in time for frost and ice to start punching a hole through their rear.

A/N: Well, this chapter was a bit more action-heavy than the rest, and to be honest, I don't have that much experience writing actual medieval-esq warfare. Still, I hope you enjoyed it. And for those that think that the battle is now completely and utterly over, I would like to remind you that Ramsay still has one card to play that he has held in reserve until this point: the so-called "gift" that Euron Greyjoy sent his way alongside the Glover reinforcements. You will finally see it in action in the next one and...well, let's just say for now that if Euron is trying to taunt King Jon into attacking the Iron Islands when the time is right for him by publicly turning into a threat he just can't politically ignore for long, then next chapter will go a long way to making that case to the Lords currently sworn to Jon as well. More on that then.

Thanks for reading everyone. We are really close to the end of the arc now. Happy Holidays to you all once again and if all goes well, we will celebrate this final week of the year with more chapters to come real soon. So, wish me luck that and as always, please review to stimulate my creative muse!

Until next time!