[The Gift - Wildling Encampment]

The chill of the North had never truly left Wyman Manderly, but the biting winds that whipped across the Gift as he and his bannerman rode in were a reminder of the treachery that had unfolded. The once-proud Manderly lord had betrayed Stannis Baratheon, a fact that weighed heavily on his conscience, but it was a choice made in desperation. With the Starks fallen and the Boltons ruling Winterfell, his loyalty lay with the last scion of House Stark.

As they approached the makeshift camp Jon Snow had established for the wildlings he had helped cross the Wall, Wyman felt a flicker of hope. Jon was a Stark at heart, and the Northmen had a long memory. The Starks had once opened their arms to the Manderlys, and now it was time for the Manderlys to repay that debt.

"Lord Manderly," Jon greeted, his voice steady but weary. The weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and Wyman could see it in his eyes. "I did not expect you to arrive so soon."

"I come with an army, Jon Snow," Wyman replied, dismounting and clasping Jon's shoulder. "A motley crew, perhaps, but men who remember the old ways and the honor of House Stark."

"Honor has little weight against Ramsay Bolton's cruelty," Jon replied grimly, glancing at the wildlings milling about. Their numbers were impressive—two thousand strong—but their lack of formal training was a concern. The Hornwoods, Mazins, and Mormonts added another few hundred, but still, it paled in comparison to Ramsay's forces. 

"True, but fear can be a powerful motivator," Wyman said, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "The Umbers, Flints, and Stouts may have joined him out of self-preservation, but I have hostages—Karstarks, taken by Stannis before he fell. They will fight for the North, or they will wish they had."

Jon's brow furrowed. "You killed Stannis?" he asked, half incredulous, half impressed. "Why would they trust you?"

"Because they have little choice," Wyman replied, his expression turning grave. "The Boltons are not beloved in the North, and with news of my betrayal spreading, they will see their loyalty to Ramsay as a noose tightening around their necks. We fight together, or we die divided."

Jon considered this as he surveyed his makeshift army. His heart was heavy, but he could feel a flicker of hope igniting within him. "If we are to fight, we need a plan."

The stark realization that they were outnumbered gnawed at Jon's mind, but he knew that giving in to fear would only pave the path to defeat.

[Outside Winterfell]

The dawn broke cold and gray, the air thick with anticipation of the impending battle. Jon rallied his forces, leading them towards Winterfell.He could see the battlements looming in the distance, a grim reminder of the horrors that awaited them. As they approached the battlefield, the sight of Ramsay's army sent a chill down Jon's spine. The banners of House Bolton fluttered menacingly in the wind, and the cruel laughter of Ramsay echoed through the air.

Jon positioned his troops with precision, wildlings in front, Northmen on the flanks. They were outnumbered, but Jon was determined to use strategy over brute force. He could see the glint of Ramsay's armor in the sunlight, a signal that the time for battle was near.

The clash of armies filled the air with the sharp clang of swords and the desperate cries of men. Jon fought with everything he had. His sword moved fast, cutting through the chaos as he led his men forward. The wildlings fought hard, their spirits fierce despite the odds. But Jon could feel it—the battle was slipping away. Ramsay's forces were too many, too strong. They pressed forward, relentless.

Jon's heart sank. His men were faltering.

Then, a roar. Loud. Earth-shaking. Jon looked up. The sun disappeared behind a massive shadow.

Alysanne Targaryen descended from the sky, riding her dragon, Elaenys.

The dragon was magnificent, its pearl white scales shimmering even in the dull light.

With a single command—Dracarys—Elaenys unleashed fire. Flames engulfed Ramsay's soldiers. 

The dragon's roar echoed in Jon's chest. The tide of battle shifted. The wildlings, inspired by the dragon's power, rallied. Their enemies faltered. Jon watched, awestruck, as the fight turned in their favour.

The Rivermen, led by Edmure Tully, surged forth alongside the dragon, their swords gleaming in the dim light of battle. 

Alysanne's arrival was a turning point, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to consume them all. The dragons, creatures of legend and lore, weaved through the skies like living nightmares, their power undeniable and their fury unmatched. 

Alysanne was precise, targeting Ramsay's archers without harming Jon's allies. The Rivermen dealt with the footsoldiers.

Ramsay's archers were useless. Their arrows bounced off her scales like twigs.

Jon's heart pounded. This was their chance. He raised his sword and shouted, "For Winterfell! For the North!" His men roared in response, their voices echoing across the field.

As the battle raged on, Alysanne's forces fought alongside Jon's, a symphony of chaos and courage that echoed across the frozen plains. The dragonfire scorched the earth, sending Ramsay's forces into disarray and chaos. The Umbers, Flints, and Stouts, who had once stood with Ramsay out of fear, now turned against him, their allegiance swayed by the sight of Alysanne and her dragons.

Ramsay, however, was not one to give up easily. He barked orders, his voice sharp and cruel. "Fall back to Winterfell! We'll hold them there!" His remaining loyalists—mostly Ryswells and Bolton soldiers—formed a tight shield wall, retreating toward the castle.

Jon knew they couldn't let Ramsay reach Winterfell. If he did, the siege would drag on, and they didn't have the numbers or supplies for that.

"We need to cut them off!" Jon yelled to Tormund, who was fighting nearby. 

Tormund grinned, his axe bloody. "Aye, let's finish this!"

Alysanne, still atop Elaenys, saw the retreat too. She guided the dragon lower, her eyes scanning the field. 

She spotted Ramsay, his pale face twisted in rage. She could burn him. End it now. But she hesitated. 

Instead, she turned Elaenys toward the shield wall. The dragon's flames tore through the ranks, scattering men and breaking their formation. 

The Rivermen, led by Edmure Tully, charged into the gap, their swords flashing. The shield wall crumbled.

Jon and his men pushed forward, cutting down anyone who stood in their way. The wildlings were relentless, their hatred for Ramsay driving them. The Hornwoods and Mazins fought with a grim determination, their loyalty to the Starks unshakable. Even the Mormonts, though few in number, fought like giants. The battlefield was a blur of steel and blood, but Jon's focus never wavered. He had to reach Ramsay.

[Winterfell - Courtyard]

Ramsay and several Bolton soldiers enter the courtyard through Winterfell's main gate. Some men close and bar the gate behind them and they dismount.

"Their army's gone." Ramsay noted.

"Our army's gone." One of his men said.

"We have Winterfell. They don't have the men for a siege. All we have to do is wait."

"Wait?! They have a bloody dragon!"

Something thudded against the gate. Ramsay turned to look at it, several Bolton archers nocking arrows. Several more thuds sounded against the other side of the gate.

Wun Wun busted a hole in the gate. Bolton archers shot arrows at his hand and down at his body over the side of the castle wall. Wun Wun roared and punched another hole in the gate, forcing Ramsay to move further away from the gate's interior.

Wun Wun reached in and grabbed the wooden bar holding the gate, but a Bolton soldier threw a spear through the back of his hand. Wun Wun ripped his hand away and then burst through the gate, opening it. He sprinted into the courtyard, before falling to his knees. The Bolton archers continued shooting arrows into him as he roared.

Stark soldiers flooded the courtyard and began killing the Bolton soldiers, quickly overtaking them.

Jon entered the courtyard and ran up beside Wun Wun. They looked at each other, Tormund running up on the other side of Wun Wun.

Jon reached out to Wun Wun, but Ramsay shot Wun Wun in the eye with an arrow, killing him.

"You suggested one on one combat, didn't you?" Ramsay asked Jon.

Stark archers aimed their bows at Ramsay.

"I've reconsidered. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea." Ramsay nocked an arrow.

Jon drooped his sword and picked up a fallen shield. Ramsay aimed and fired, Jon raising his shield to block it and advancing.

Ramsay nocked another arrowing, firing, which Jon again blocked with his shield before advancing.

Ramsay nocked a third arrow and fired. Jon raised his shield and blocked the arrow, advancing. Before Ramsay could nock a fourth arrow, Jon overpowered him, bashing Ramsay with his shield twice, knocking him over.

Jon dropped his shield and jumped on top of Ramsay, punching him in the face over and over. Ramsay's face quickly became mangled and bloody.

Alysanne entered the courtyard. When Jon saw her, he stopped punching Ramsay, standing and walking away.

He didn't know why. He didn't know her. What was this effect he just felt? Why did he stop?

The Bolton flags fell away from the walls of Winterfell and were replaced by Stark flags. diane

Winterfell had returned to its rightful hands; the Starks.

[Winterfell - Kennels]

Ramsay was tied to a chair inside the kennel gates, mangled and bleeding. He groaned and coughed, then raised his head to see Alysanne standing outside the gate.

"Ah. Princess Alysanne. Hello, Alysanne. Is this where I'll be staying now? No. Our time together is about to come to an end. That's all right. You can't kill me."

"Your words will disappear. Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear."

The dogs growled in their cells and began filtering out into the kennel.

"My hounds will never harm me."

"You haven't fed them in seven days. You said it yourself."

Oh how Alysanne loved her spies, and how well they kept her informed.

"They're loyal beasts."

"They were. Now they're starving."

The dogs growled. One approached Ramsay from the front and put its front paws up on his legs. It sniffed Ramsay's face.

"Sit. Down! Down! Down! Down! Down!"

The dog bit Ramsay's face, causing him to scream. The other dogs converged on Ramsay and began tearing him apart. Alysanne turned as though she might leave, but lingered for a moment to watch. Finally, she turned and walked away, smiling.

One less monster in the world.

They had done it. The Starks once again held Winterfell.