Silver Stag

Battle Of The Bastards

[Winterfell - Outskirts]

Jon, Sansa, Davos, Tormund, Lyanna Mormont, and some Stark bannermen sat on horseback, waiting. Ramsay, Harald Karstark, SmallJon Umber, Wylis Manderly, son to Lord Wyman Manderly, and a group of Bolton soldiers approached on horseback, coming to a halt in front of them.

"You don't have to be here." Jon told his sister.

"Yes, I do."

"My beloved wife. I've missed you terribly." Ramsay looked at Jon. "Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safely. Now, dismount and kneel before me, surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house. Come, bastard, you don't have the men, you don't have the horses, and you don't have Winterfell. Why lead those pour souls into slaughter? There's no need for a battle. Get off your horse and kneel. I'm a man of mercy."

"You're right. There's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us. Let's end this the old way. You against me."

Ramsay chuckled. "I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you, you're the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good. Maybe not. I don't know if I'd beat you. But I know that my army will beat yours. I have 6,000 men. You have, what, half that? Not even?"

"Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?"

Ramsay pointed at Jon. "He's good. Very good. Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you're too proud to surrender?

"How do we know you have him?" Sansa asked.

Ramsay nodded to SmallJon who pulled Shaggydog's head out from a satchel and threw it on the ground.

"Now, if you want to save—"

"You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well." Sansa turns her horse and rides away.

"She's a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed." Ramsay taunted Jon. "And you're all fine-looking men. My dogs are desperate to meet you. I haven't fed them for seven dais. They're ravenous. I wonder which parts they'll try first. Your eyes? Your balls? We'll find out soon enough. In the morning, then, bastard."

Jon looked down as Ramsay and company rode back towards Winterfell.

[Stark Encampment - Conference Tent]

Jon, Davos, Tormund, and Sansa stood around a planning table.

"If he was smart, he'd stay inside the walls of Winterfell and wait us out." Jon told them.

"That's not his way. He knows the North is watching. If the other houses sense weakness on his part, they'll stop fearing him. He can't have that. Fear is his power." Davos said.

"It's his weakness, too. His mean don't want to fight for him. They're forced to fight for him. If they feel the tide turning..."

"It's not his men that worry me. It's his horses. I know what mounted knights can do to us." Tormund looks at Davos. "You and Stannis cut through us like piss through snow."

"We're digging trenches all along our flanks. They won't be able to hit us the way that Stannis hit you, in a double envelopment."

Tormund stared blankly at Jon.

"A pincer move."

Tormund continued to stare blankly at Jon, causing him to look at Davos briefly.

"They won't be able to hit us from the sides." Jon elaborated.

"Good." Tormund agreed.

"It's crucial that we let them charge at us. They've got the numbers, we need the patience. If we let him buckle our center, he'll pursue. Then we'll have him surrounded on three sides."

"Did you really think that cunt would fight you man to man?" Tormund asked Jon.

"No. But I wanted to make him angry. I want him coming at us full tilt."

"We should all get some sleep." Davos suggested.

"Rest, Jon Snow. We need you sharp tomorrow." Tormund told Jon.

Davos, Tormund, and any remaining attendants exited and Jon sat down at the head of the table.

"So you've met the enemy, drawn up your battle plans." Sansa said.

"Aye, for what they're worth."

"You've known him for the space of a single conversation, you and your trusted advisors, and you sit around and make your plans on how to defeat a man you don't know. I lived with him. I know the way his mind works. I know how he likes to hurt people. Did it ever once occur to you that I might have some insight?"

"You're right."

"You think he's going to fall into your trap. He won't. He's the one who lays traps."

"He's overconfident."

"He plays with people. He's far better at it than you. He's been doing it all his lufe."

Jon stood. "Aye, and what have I been doing all my life? Playing with broomsticks? I fought beyond the Wall against worse than Ramsay Bolton. I've defended the Wall from worse than Ramsay Bolton."

"You don't know him."

"All right, tell me. What should we do? How do we get Rickon back?"