'I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die,'

Lyanna's thoughts were consumed by the same thought over and over as the crowd piled on top of her, her own army now turning against her as they attempted to save their own lives.

Heart pounding, stomach twisting, Lyanna found herself getting pushed further and further to the floor, feeling feet kick at her and men shove around her. Protectively, she managed to wrap her arms around her stomach, realising that if she was to truly die in this human pile up, she would at least try and protect her child, a tragic innocent who had no business to be involved in war at such a young age. She realised suddenly, as bodies fell on top of her, slowly compressing her into the muddy ground, suffocating her slowly, that she had been truly selfish and foolish, putting her own pride and arrogance ahead of another life. She may have been Lyanna Stark, daughter of a Wolf and Dragon, but in that moment, she was just another battle fatality waiting to happen, a stupid pregnant woman who was about to die in a battle that was meant to be for the good of her house.

Accepting her fate, Lyanna held her breath, shut her eyes, waiting for another body to fall and crush her.

It did not come. In fact, the crowd parted slightly, men began to pull themselves up, or others pulled the fallen off, and the once compiled crowd began to spread out more. The thundering battle cries of the Boltons still echoed around her ears, along with the cries of her own army, though there was another sound. It seemed everyone around her heard this and fell silent, though the battle raged on, and everyone strained to hear the noise of a battle horn, followed by something else; The sound of hooves plundering land at a gallop. With a last fleeting hope of surviving somehow, Lyanna's heart skipped a beat.

Stumbling to her feet, she managed to lift her head to see, riding over the hill with dignified glory and honour, the shining Tyrell cavalry, the Golden Rose flying high on the banners. Lyanna saw the army pour round into the clearing and begin down the hill, and she realised that there was far more men there than Ramsay had. The sight made many men confused, the shining Southern army appearing vastly out of place in the gritty northern landscape. They did not have time to dwell on it, as the Bolton force still bore down on them, but for Lyanna, she felt a release momentarily, knowing that they were so close to being lost, but now there was another chance. In fact, not only were men confused, but frightened, as they, along with Lyanna, felt the tide beginning to turn.

Her sword was lost, she'd dropped it in the confusion and fear of the pile up, and so she improvised, pulling Robb's dagger out of her back holster, grabbing the nearest stray Bolton and ramming it into his throat. Another ran at her and she slashed back at him, a sudden burst of energy running through her, despite the twisting pain in her stomach she was forced to ignore. Noticing her loss of a sword, Tormund staggered over to her, his face and beard bloodstained, holding a sword which was not his own, and pressed his back to hers, covering her. With the rest of the Stark army that had been compressed beginning to break off, spreading back out, the Wolf and the Wildling stayed, Lyanna calling out directions and orders, fighting Boltons that came close, Tormund offering her cover when she needed it.

"Jon?" she managed to call to the Wildling, who remained silent. Either that or she didn't hear his response over the roaring battle.

Panic took over her once more as the realisation of not seeing her brother set in. Had he been crushed? Killed? That was, until she saw him stagger over, clutching his chest with one hand and a sword in another. He looked fierce and battle-worn, stray hairs working their way out of their tight tie, his face stained with blood and filth. As he got close, Lyanna got hold of his arm in a gesture of solidarity, overjoyed to see him still, though their moment of sibling love was far from peaceful as the Boltons continued to attack.

"That army..." Jon called to her, just as a opposition soldier came running at him, bearing the Umber arms. In that moment, Lyanna was taking on a Karstark, and Tormund a Bolton.

"The rest of our men are moving closer towards Winterfell, move with them!" Lyanna shouted over, ducking slightly as a sword swung at her, stabbing her dagger into the gap of the soldier's armour in his side. Pulling her dagger out, she managed to ram it into his neck as he fell, just to be safe. "Move with them now, both of you! I'll hold these up until the Tyrell's get over to this part!"

"Lyanna, no!" Jon wasn't convinced, instead remaining where he was, cutting down another Karstark who got close to his sister.

"Go, Ramsay is fleeing!" she cried, and it was true, as she saw his horse galloping off to the safety of the keep.

Jon looked at his sister, and with little time to spare, he nodded, making his decision. The two locked eyes, and nodded at one another, hoping the both of them that this wouldn't be that last time they saw each other. Lyanna watched as the two men began a sprint towards the keep, her focus not being held by them for very long as she turned her attention back to the fight, her mind failing to be held on the thought of never seeing her brother again. It was that moment the round of horses of the Tyrell Cavalry crashed into the threat surrounding Lyanna, and she jumped to the side, dodging the horses narrowly, watching as the Tyrell's practically instantly smashed down the opposition.

She watched the riders carefully, only to see the leader of them let out another war cry, and then turned his horse towards her. Knowing it was most likely one of her brothers-by-law, Lyanna carefully warded off any threats to the Tyrell as he hopped off his mount, pulling his sword off his belt and slashing at an attacker.

"Thank fuck you're here!" she cried to him, not sure whether it was Loras or Garlan, but knowing it was one of them.

"Take the horse!" he called back, the voice indicating it was Garlan underneath the helmet and armour, and Lyanna didn't hesitate in taking the reins from his grip as he thrust them at her. "And Lyanna, try not to die before you can get to your dragon, yeah? I don't think my brother would forgive me if I let you die now,"

A sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through Lyanna as she placed her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself onto the armoured horse, a sense of energy restored to her through the mount. Sparing a final glance at Garlan, she nodded at him determinedly, a small smile creeping through, before she kicked her horse into a gallop, turning it the opposite way that Jon and Tormund had previously ran. The wind raced through her hair, the icy air cutting her like knives, not that she cared. Riding in the midst of battle was almost freedom, as she managed to get away from the horrific action and breathe, her head throbbing with exhaustion.

It wasn't long until she reached the clearing on top of a hill where Sansa had stationed herself, surrounded by the Wolves who were guarding her alongside Brienne of Tarth. Slowing the horse, Lyanna hopped off and made her way to Rey, the dragon already wearing her saddle and gear, rearing her head slightly at the sight of Lyanna. Sansa rose, and moved towards her sister, her face serious and almost worried, especially when she saw the blood staining the older girl's face.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and when Lyanna looked over at Sansa, she noticed her eyes fixed on her belly.

"Yes... I've got to get back... Tyrell gave me his horse, Jon's almost at Winterfell," Lyanna explained quickly, realising how out of breath she truly was as she ignored the cramping sensation in her stomach.

"Alright, just... be safe," Sansa called to her sister, watching as she mounted onto the dragon, placing her hands on its neck in affection as she had done earlier, as she laced her feet in the stirrups, grasping the reins. "I'll see you soon,"

No time to look back, Lyanna fixed herself into position, taking in a few deep breaths to regain herself, then dig her heels into the dragon's sides. Try reared, ran a little and then took off into the air. Lyanna closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, savouring the peace of flying until she felt Rey jerk.

Her eyes darted open, assessing her surroundings and realised that they were over the battle, and that it was obvious Ramsay's force was beaten. Her army and the Tyrell's had begun following Jon to the keep, and upon seeing her, they slowed, knowing that the dragon already had the advantage, giving them no reason to rush. As they began to reach Winterfell, Lyanna placed her hand on the dragon's neck and she began to lower to the level that Lyanna could see the guards around the Winterfell towers. Pulling her bow from her shoulder, she  began to shoot them down, though some ducked and survived. Try shrieked, as if she was about to let out a burst of fire, but Lyanna places her hand on her neck again to stop her, not wanting any fire damage to her childhood home.

Driving her heels into the dragon's sides, Lyanna began to lower into the courtyard, where Bolton archers were still firing upon her. Below, the giant had just broken the gate down, and their men had stormed in.  Option soldiers dropped their weapons, all except Ramsay, who remained, holding his bow up, and arrow knocked. It was only as Lyanna saw the arrow did she see it fly, finding home in the giant's eye. No sooner did that one fly from his bow did another one, though this time it struck at Rey's shoulder. The dragon shrieked in pain, rearing again, almost throwing Lyanna.

Feeling her stomach turn in dread and fear, she quickly unlatched herself from the saddle, jumping off the dragon's back and onto the cobbled courtyard. She saw the arrow in her dragon and cursed, even though she knew there would be no lasting damage.

Lyanna turned, facing Ramsay. His bow was lowered, though his smirk remained, even though defeat was certain. Lyanna felt sick, standing the closest to him that she had ever. He radiated repulsion to her and she hated him. She wanted him dead, dead by her own hands. All the while she was fuming, he was staring at Jon, her brother taking his place at her side.

"My dear Lyanna, you look radiant, war truly suits you," he spoke up with a smirk, glancing over at her cockily. "Though let the men deal with this now, bitch, you've done enough. Jon Snow, I'd like to take you up on your original offer; you and me,"

He raised his bow again, letting off an arrow lightning fast. Jon managed to seize a Mormont shield, covering himself as he advanced closer, leaving Lyanna behind with the dragon.

One to one combat between men in the Winterfell courtyard. It was just like before, when only the boys were allowed to fight. This fight was bigger than any that had taken place here before, of greater importance than any sparring duel. Lyanna still refused to acknowledge it though, refused to accept that it would always come down to the men. She'd been allowed to fight here as a child for practice, and her entire adult life she'd been belittled by men. This occasion was too significant to finally start to listen.

"Fuck that," she hissed, and took off at a mad sprint to Ramsay.

Ramsay was too focused on Jon to see her approach and, too fast to stop, she ran into him, knocking him over, falling on top of him. She felt a pang of pain all over, echoing through her body, but it was too late to stop, and so she pulled herself up so she was now on top of him, sat on his stomach. Before he could fight, Lyanna laughed her left fist right at his nose, causing his head to smash back onto the cobbles.

Pleasure at his pain instantly swept over her, seeing his blood on her fist bringing a sense of fulfilment to her that she'd never felt. Again and again she hit her fists into his face, each time seeing a different loved one this man had hurt.

Sansa. Rickon. Robb. Lady Stark. Casca. Brutus. Theon. Each time a different face appeared until she was sobbing uncontrollably, screaming at him, pulling his hair, spitting on his face. She'd lost all control of herself and it was only when Jon and Sansa pulled her off did she finally stop, finally loosen her fists and wipe the blood off her hands and face.

As Ramsay was pulled away and moved into the kennels as the Stark's prisoner, Lyanna dazed and in pain, the reality dawned on her. 

Winterfell was House Stark's, and Lyanna Snow was finally home.

***
Word count: 2282
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The battle is over!

Honestly these last two chapters have been the hardest to write but I'm so glad that I've done them and Lyanna's finally back in Winterfell!

Please vote and comment!

~Olivia