The Bite of Winter

Jon

Seven weeks after Jons resurrection

His men stood in a line, the first row was comprised of their meager calvary, the second and third of foot soldiers and free folk. Davos stood in the back with the archers. Robb sat on Faith next to him, while Asha spun and ax in her fingers on her stallion behind him. Lady Brienne waited aside Asha with her squire.

Oddly enough, this was the most confident moment Jon had felt while ruling. He knew how to lead men into battle, how to fight. It is what he is good at. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins as Ramsay's troops marched forwards. He felt like his blood was on fire. 

He watched as the troops came to a halt and Ramsay rode forward with a young girl riding double on his horse. They were too far was for Jon to make out her facial features. She was thin with dark brown hair, matching his own. She looked to be about the right age. It must be Arya. Jon felt an urge to gallop to her and rip her away from Ramsay, but he fought it. If he did, his men would follow him and die. 

Ghost and Greywind bristled, snarling at the army only one klick away. Jon could practically smell the blood of his enemy, hear their hearts beating. Ramsay's army stood still, waiting for Jon to make the first move. Jon knew better, he would wait where he was standing until the frost set in and froze him in place.

They waited for what felt like hours, his men silent with anticipation. Jon knew that all he needed to do what keep Ramsay out of Winterfell until the Knights of the Vale arrived, so far the plan was working. 

Then, the first wave of cavalry was set upon them. Jon watched as a line of galloping coursers charged towards them. "Calvary!" He pulled Longclaw from its sheath. "Charge!" His horse was the first one to fly into a gallop, Robb only a few paces behind him. Greywind and Ghost at his side. 

Jon could hear the impact of horses crashing into horses and steel on steel as the two forces collided. Jon's mare went down a spear in her neck. His back ached as he pulled himself off the ground. Chaos ensued around him.

Horses were without riders and men were dying around him. Everything was a blur, he felt a familiar rage stir in his chest as his sword slashed at the black blurs that were Bolton men. The smell of shit, piss, and blood filled his nose as he pressed further into the frenzy. 

He no longer knew where Robb was, or where Asha and Brienne were. But he could see Ramsay. He held Arya close, making it impossible for archers to attack him. What kind of coward would use a girl as a shield? 

Jon began to fight his way towards him. A man lunged, but Jon lurched into him, pushing his sword cleanly into his chest. He was only a few yards away from Arya. Hope rose in him and he rushed to her. 

He stopped in his tracks as her body went limp of Ramsay's horse, falling back against his chest. Her husband shrugged her off as if she were little more than dirty clothes. A stray arrow had found its way into her neck. 

Jon felt as if time had stopped for a moment. Grief and horror consumed him as he stared at her body, laying face down in the mud. Then his eyes rose until they met Ramsay's. Jon's vision went red as he flew into action, sprinting towards Ramsay. Ramsay swung his horse to flee, but Ghost was standing behind him, ready to close his jaws around Ramsay's horse's throat. 

The horse went down with a pained cry, forcing Ramsay to now fight Jon, man to man, face to face. Ramsay was a large and strong man, but his fighting lacked strategy or skill. It was all brute force and brutal slashes. That was his downfall. 

Jon swerved every advance he made, avoiding every clumsy hack, every unaimed blow. It wasn't long before Jon's found its way into Ramsay's stomach. Jon enjoyed every moment of watching the life leave his eyes and the blood sputter out of his oversized mouth. He could hear hoofbeats approaching, when he looked up, he saw the Knights of the Vale coming to help him finish the job.

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There was no celebration after the battle, only mourning. Jon could feel the eyes of every man, woman, and child as he made his way to where Robb and Brienne stood, staring at a sheet in a cart. Arya was under that sheet. Jon's hands shook as he pulled it down, revealing her face. 

Robb's mouth fell open. "That's not Arya..." He whispered. 

"That's Jeyne Poole," Jon replied, shock flooding his system. If this was Jeyne, then where was Arya? Was she already dead, was she lost somewhere in Westeros? 

Brienne's brow furrowed. "This is not Arya Stark?" She asked, confirming. 

Jon nodded. "This is the daughter of Lord Stark's steward, who went to Kingslanding with him." He explained. He looked at the girl. She had never been kind to him, but never cruel either. She had simply been someone who mimicked Sansa. He felt pity rise in his chest. At least now, she could rest. His eyes went past her, falling on the crypts. "Please, excuse me." He whispered and made his way towards them, something pulling him forward. 

He entered the damp tomb, grabbing a torch from off the wall. It had been years since he was last down here. He walked through the dark halls until he arrived at a statue carved to look like Eddard Stark, yet it did him no justice. His eye's traced the face of a man that had once been so familiar but was now foreign. 

He walked past him until he found the tomb of Lady Lyanna. Part of him ached, knowing that he had a mother who loved him and just never knew how close she was. He sat down next to her statue, resting his back against the wall. He wished that he could have known her, even for a short time. If he had, maybe his life would have turned out very differently. It made no matter, reminiscing about fantasies would do him no good. He had a reign to begin, a reign of fire and ice. 

The second book, 'The First Frost' is posted and the first chapter will be released in a few days. Thank you for reading!