The Prince That Was Promised (Old Version)

Chapter 20: Battle for Winterfell Part 1

Orys Targaryen

The lands around Winterfell

There it was: Winterfell. The place he had left more than two years ago. He had departed with his uncle, and who would have thought he would be returning here as a king, the Lord Regent to his little brother, and married to a wonderful woman who was carrying his child.

He had left a boy of sixteen, not truly knowing the world. He had not seen the worst it had to offer, though he had also seen the good. Would the world be different? If he hadn't joined the Watch? He might have died with Robb at the Red Wedding and never found the happiness he had with Shireen.

Or perhaps he would have been able to stop Robb from breaking his pact with the Freys; perhaps Robb would have restored the North and found some balance with the southern kingdoms.

None of that mattered now. All that mattered was the upcoming battle against the men who had killed his family and betrayed them under guest-right. He had to cleanse the lands he held dear, fulfill his duty to the realm, and rally the people against the Others to defend the realm of men, while still keeping part of his oath.

Soon, they rode farther up the ridge. "So that is Winterfell. I always thought Storm's End was large, but in size, this might be the largest Castle I have seen. Although according to what I have read, Harrenhal and Casterly Rock are larger." Shireen's blue eyes were bright with wonder as she looked at Winterfell.

"It truly is the might of the North. If not for the tricks and betrayal of Theon Turncloak, the Castle would never have fallen. My father used to say five hundred men could hold it for many a year." Orys grinned as he looked at the Castle.

To his right, Maege rode up. "Justice, my king. For Dacey, for King Robb, and the rest that fell because of those treacherous dogs."

"Indeed. Justice for the North." He replied.

Soon enough, their camp was established. He sent riders into the woods, mostly mounted, to join the battle after the Bolton cavalry charged his lines and to mop up survivors. He felt Nightwing's anticipation: the dragon wanted to be unleashed to show his might. You will, my friend, he tried to convey through their bond. It was different from Ghost; Ghost was calm and stalking wrath, whereas Nightwing was a brute-force fury. Fire and ice, both part of him, in family, but also the bonds with companions. Ice, slowly, could kill a man just as fire could; fire was faster, a more immediate death. Like the Doom and the Long Night, both disastrous, yet in very different forms.

He looked toward Asher. Asher had become one of his senior commanders, together with Maege, Tormund, and Galbert. "Send out riders with a banner of peace. I wish to parley, to see the men that killed my kin and countrymen under guest-right."

Fields around Winterfell.

He sat upon a large black destrier as the Bolton banners arrived. His crown of iron and bronze — made by the Glover blacksmith- rested upon his head. He hadn't worn it often, but now was the time to do so, to show the bastards who ruled here who he was.

Beside the Bolton banner, he saw the standards of Dustin, Ryswell, Locke, Manderly, Umber, Karstark, and other lesser houses. He grinned through his teeth as the pale-skinned lord of the Dreadfort came into view, the so-called Warden of the North.

To the right of that lord was an ugly-looking man with an uglier snarl. From the surcoat and the description Jeyne had given him, this had to be Ramsey Snow, or Bolton, by King Tommen's decree.

To the left was a man he had seen before: Lord Rodrik Ryswell, the father of Lord Barbrey Dustin. It did not surprise Orys; the man probably had, besides the Manderlys and Dustins, the most remaining men. And Rodrik had been the previous godfather of Lord Bolton.