ASOIAF/GOT : Grey Dragon

**Jon Snow POV**

"Run!" I commanded, drawing Longclaw in one fluid motion.

The Free Folk, clad in stolen Bolton armor for disguise, hesitated only for a heartbeat before breaking into a sprint toward the inn's stables, where our horses waited. Creywn's men moved in disciplined formation, cutting through the chaos like a well-honed blade.

A handful of guards tried to block their path. The first barely had time to react before a Free Folk blade sliced his throat open. Another shouted, but I was on him before he could raise the alarm, cutting him down with a swift swing of my sword.

"Keep moving!" I shouted, cutting down a man lunging for Rickon beside me.

More soldiers swarmed toward us, but we had no time for a prolonged fight. One misstep had upended my carefully laid plan, yet there was still a chance to salvage it.

The others reached the horses just as the gates swung open, releasing a flood of men in Bolton colors. Arrows whistled through the air. A Free Folk warrior cried out as an arrow grazed his shoulder, but he gritted his teeth and vaulted onto his horse.

"To the village!" I ordered.

They spurred their mounts forward, hooves tearing through the snow-covered fields as Winterfell shrank behind us. The horns did not cease, nor did the thunder of hooves as the chase began. Rickon rode with Tormund, the wildling's bulk shielding him from arrows. I exhaled sharply and, seeing the clear road ahead, warged into Luna for a fleeting moment to assess our pursuers.

Panic and exhilaration warred within me. Five hundred men. A grim number, but if my plan succeeded, it would be five hundred fewer foes to face in the battle ahead. I snapped back into my body, my horse already skittish. Regaining control before it veered off toward the forest, I rode up alongside Tormund and Torren, who were ensuring Rickon's safety.

"They're five hundred strong. Our plan is ruined, but we can still turn this to our advantage. We just need to lead them to the village. I'll explain everything once we stop for the horses to rest."

Tormund grunted in response, while Torren nodded. We focused on the path ahead.

"This may seem like a disaster, but it's an opportunity. We just need to stay ahead of them. So, ride harder!" I shouted and with a grunt, we increased the pace of our horses.

---{Line Break}---

"Snow, the horses will die if we keep this pace," Tormund said while eyeing his brown mare who looked like it could fall anytime. The other horses are no different from the one Tormund is riding. 

"I know but we had to make distances between them and us if we were to get a headstart when the inevitable chase began after the rest," I replied patting my horse to endure for just a while. After a minute or two ride, I saw a small pond and decided it was the best place for us to rest for some time before we continued toward Crofter's village. I stirred my horse toward the pond and others followed after me.

 I dismounted the horse and rubbed in front of his withers. "Good Job, I'm proud of you, relax, you are Ok," The animal softened under my touch, its head lowering as it licked and chewed. I led it to the water's edge before crouching to splash cold water on my face, washing away sweat and dirt.

"Ah! My whole body is stiff, and I think my balls are chafed," Tormund groaned, shifting uncomfortably. "Bloody saddles weren't made for constant galloping," Tormund complained as he checked his lower parts for any irregularity standing at far in a corner. My lips turned into a smile seeing his actions and I continued to splash the water on my face to wash away the sweat and dirt.

"I'm surprised you even know how to ride a horse in the first place. Taking into account where you come from." One of Cerwyn's men who doesn't like Tormund specifically said with a mocking smirk on his face. 

Tormund grinned wickedly. "Oh? Did I surprise you? Let's see if I can do it again."

With that, he charged after the man, his breeches loose enough to cause alarm. The soldier bolted in panic and disgust, drawing laughter from the others. Laughs rang out from the men present as they watched Tormund chase the man who was running like his life was deepened on it.

"Are Bolton men have stopped for resting as well, my lord?" Torren asked who was on my left side, rubbing his mount's flank as it drank.

"Yes, they are resting far from us, and I have also commanded Luna to stay there and watch over them," I assured Torren, who looked relieved to hear we would know beforehand when the Bolton men would start to chase again.

After checking the direction of the wind, we determined it was coming from the northeast, toward Crofter's village. We needed to check the wind because the spot where we were resting wasn't a dense forest that could conceal the smoke from our campfire. With our stomachs full, I decided to stay awake while the others rested for a while. Rickon, who had been quiet until then, approached me and laid his head in my lap before closing his eyes.

[Master, you do not have to worry. According to my calculations, there is a ninety-five percent probability that they will follow you and be slaughtered at the lake,] Aether's indifferent voice echoed in my head. This made me sigh because I wasn't wondering whether they would fall for it or not; I was concerned about the unnecessary slaughter that would inevitably follow. Winter is coming, and I would just be condemning a thousand men to die like animals.

A thousand, because another five hundred large reinforcements are approaching us, and soon they will join the rest party to chase us together. However, I steeled my heart, reminding myself that there was nothing I could do to change this fate. Chaining that many men was impossible, and even though I had supplies, I couldn't afford to waste them on an army that was relentlessly pursuing us to kill or capture us. That's the brutal reality of this world: men who have committed no crime die because they are following the orders of their lord. There is nothing I can do to change that; all I can do is try to minimize the number of deaths on my side first and then on theirs.

---{Line Break} ---

I woke up with a jolt as a sharp eagle's cry came from above and Roose who was on duty to watch woke up others as well after hearing the signal of Luna. I immediately started to wake up Rickon who was sleeping peacefully and after carrying him on my back I sprinted toward our horses who although hasn't recovered fully looked ready to take us at least to Crofter's Village before collapsing.

"Bloody Southerners! Wouldn't even let me shit in peace!" Tormund bellowed, running from the woods, hastily fastening his breeches.

 I shook my head at his misfortune.

"You can stay here and finish your business if you like, Tormund," I teased, drawing laughter from the Free Folk and Cerwyn's men.

"Aye, not happening. I don't fancy dying with my arse hanging out. What would the Free Folk say? That Tormund, who fucked a bear, died squatting south of the Wall? Bah!"

With a chuckle and laugh we took off toward the direction of Crofter's village which would only take a couple of hours from here. Their all-Freefolk army with Northern among them as well would be hiding carefully in a nearby forest for Bolton men to appear as prey for them to predate on.

---{Line Break} ---

It is almost morning now since Bolton men were resting more often since the infantry is slowing them down. But they are sending scouts ahead which marks the area where we left trails intentionally. But when these scouts came too close to us they were killed off and their heads were mounted on trees to sow discord among the enemy rank and make them angry as with anger they will be prone to make more mistakes. 

**Third Person POV**

The thundering of hooves echoed across the frozen landscape as Jon and his entourage rode toward Crofter's Village. Behind them, the banners of House Bolton, Karstark, and Umber swayed with the wind, their riders desperate to close the gap. The chase had gone exactly as Jon had planned. Now, all that remained was to spring the trap.

Ahead, the village loomed, its thatched rooftops laden with snow. The two lakes that flanked the village were still and silent, their surfaces deceptively stable. Jon knew better. Over the past days, his forces had methodically weakened the ice, cutting subtle cracks along the surface and ensuring that any great weight would send it crumbling into the freezing depths below. The perfect grave for a thousand men.

Jon turned in his saddle, catching Tormund's eye. The Free Folk leader gave a sharp nod, his grin widening. He understood what was about to happen. So did Torren, who was already urging his men into formation on the ridges above the village. The moment the enemy entered the trap, they would close the jaws.

"Rickon, stay close," Jon murmured, feeling the boy's tight grip around his waist. His horse was growing tired, but they only needed to push a little further.

With a final burst of speed, Jon and his men cleared the village outskirts and galloped toward the frozen lake. Their own forces—two thousand strong, composed of Free Folk and men from the northern houses still loyal to House Stark—lay hidden in the surrounding trees, weapons at the ready.

Jon and his vanguard did not slow as they reached the lake's surface. They thundered across the ice, hooves clattering, their familiarity with the weakened ground keeping them on the safer, solid sections. Behind them, the Bolton cavalry and infantry followed, driven by fury and the desire to end this chase once and for all.

Then came the moment Jon had been waiting for.

Cracks spiderwebbed beneath the enemy's horses. A single heartbeat of silence followed—before the ice shattered.

Screams filled the air as men and beasts plunged into the freezing abyss. Heavy armor dragged them under almost instantly. Horses flailed before disappearing beneath the dark water. Some men managed to scramble onto nearby ice, only for it to break further, swallowing them whole. The lake, once pristine and frozen, now churned with the chaos of drowning men.

"Now!" Jon roared.

From the treeline, arrows rained down like a storm. The surviving Bolton forces, those who had stayed behind on solid land, were suddenly beset by a ferocious onslaught. Free Folk and Northern men came out from their hiding spots with ferocious and wild looks in their eyes that left no doubt about what future the surviving Bolton men had in store for them.

How do you feel about Jon's strategy for taking out a large chunk of the Bolton forces while keeping his own casualties minimal? I'd love to hear your thoughts on that—as well as my (possibly cringe-worthy) attempt at adding some comedy to the fic. Did it land, or did I completely miss the mark?

Also, if you've been enjoying the story so far, I'd really appreciate a Powestone donation to help support it! And because of that incredible review from yesterday, I'm uploading two chapters today as a thank-you. With 15K words nearly wrapped up, I'd love to hear your thoughts—so if you've been enjoying the fic, I'd be grateful for a review!