[Chapter Size: 3800 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Riverlands, 300 AC.
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The camp Jon had established with his men was finally visible from the sky. It was located in a vast grass-covered field within a forest, which was perfect for concealing the fighting force being assembled there. Even in the middle of the night, he could see the small torches and campfires hidden among the tents.
The moment Caraxes began descending near the camp, he was spotted by several sentries, who were already notifying the main leaders in the largest tents.
As his eagle landed a few meters away, his men immediately rushed to greet him.
"Your Majesty!" the men shouted as they approached quickly, clearly worried. The king had been gone for days, and his letter had only arrived that afternoon. Everyone was already prepared to depart the following morning, according to the king's orders.
Jon made Caraxes lower himself so he could throw the Mountain's body onto the ground. A fall from that height certainly would not kill him. He then dismounted as several familiar faces came toward him. Part of the camp was already awake by that point, looking at him in surprise.
Afterward, he helped young Darry climb down. The boy still seemed exhausted after the last two hours of flight.
"You can jump, I'll catch you." Jon said, raising his arms for the child, who had not yet reached his tenth nameday, to leap down. He caught him and set him on the ground while the men gathered before them.
"You've returned, Your Majesty."
"Yes, and from what I can see, you haven't left yet, but I hope you're ready." Jon said.
Jon had not planned to return to the camp so quickly, but after going to Darry, he had resolved the situation and brought back both the Mountain's body and the Darry heir.
"Everything is ready for us to leave tomorrow, Your Majesty," Lancelot replied. As he spoke, Jon's two eagles flew through the dark sky, meeting Caraxes, their father.
"Good. As you may have guessed, I had to deal with some problems in the south, and now I'm back," Jon said.
"Should I call all the men for a meeting?" Lancelot asked.
Jon shook his head. "No. We'll talk tomorrow morning. I want to rest a little."
Lyman Darry tilted his head to get a better look at the group. He saw no shining armor among them, though he knew they were trained men. He noticed a girl among them as well, but immediately recognized one of the faces.
"You're Barristan Selmy..." he said. At the same time, he could tell that everyone there was a powerful warrior, complementing the king's guard.
Meanwhile, the rest of the camp that had awakened watched the scene. None of them had any idea of Jon's true identity.
In any case, he pulled the young boy forward. "Yes, he is... Now, avoid calling me Your Majesty or king here. Only in front of my men, and they're only doing it among ourselves," Jon said.
"Who is he, Your Majesty?" Barristan asked.
Darry nodded, and Jon turned his attention back to the group. "This is Lyman Darry, the heir of House Darry."
"Wait..." the girl from the group said. Arya raised an eyebrow, pointing at the fallen body. "The Mountain was guarding that place? You invaded Darry, and this is the Mountain?" She looked surprised.
"Yes, as you can see. Well, we freed him. I had help from a Hedge Knight, if I can even call him that," Jon said with a smile.
"He's missing a leg..." Arya commented.
Jon shrugged. "Well, I had to incapacitate him somehow."
Arya simply stared at him but said nothing. She knew very well that Jon had reasons to be that cruel. In fact, she was more surprised that he hadn't killed Gregor. Instead, he had chosen a different form of torture. But if she thought about the situation more carefully, perhaps she shouldn't have been that surprised after all.
"And don't call him Ser Barristan Selmy in front of everyone either," Jon added as a final warning.
As they returned to the camp, he requested that a new tent be set up for the child and that he be given food and warm clothes.
Jon was immediately questioned by Arya, who had refused to leave his tent since he arrived, irritated that he had gone south alone.
"There were things I needed to do," Jon said at last, sitting down at a table inside the tent.
And it was true. He wanted to disrupt the Lannister and Frey camps, wanted to see the monster Lady Catelyn had become, wanted to go to the God's Eye and meet the Green Men, wanted to rescue Darry after finding an opportunity through Sandor Clegane. On top of that, he had captured the Mountain. These were all things he had wanted to do since setting foot in the Riverlands with his men.
"You saw my mother, didn't you?" Arya suddenly asked as she sat beside him while he was beginning to drink.
Jon immediately stopped drinking the fruit juice he had planted himself, since he refused to drink the wine they acquired through the bandits.
He immediately set the cup aside, placing it next to the candle lamp, since he had no light stones there.
His eyes turned to Arya, who was staring at him. Jon was certain that no one was spying. If he encountered Lady Stark in that state, he would be able to sense warg abilities being used nearby. He knew very well when someone was watching through an animal, especially when it was directed at him.
But he was also surprised that Arya knew about it.
"You know...?" he asked.
"You think I don't know what she became? Every night I see her in that camp. When I go into my tent to see through Nymeria and my other animals..." Arya admitted, looking at him with sad eyes.
Jon remained silent for a moment. "Yes, I saw her." He did not lie, his eyes remaining fixed on her.
Arya nodded. "I imagine you weren't friendly with her," she said. She didn't seem angry. She merely muttered those words while beginning to stare at the ground.
"No, I wasn't kind to her. But I confronted her to ask only one question: whether everything she had done in her life was worth ending up in that state. Whether all of her actions were truly worth it for her to become that monster..." Jon said, looking at Arya carefully.
"When was the last time you saw her?" he asked his cousin, who was clearly not doing well.
Arya pressed her lips together. "A few hours before you showed up. When I went into my tent and entered my warg state," she confessed.
But she did not stop there. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "She was awake. She was crying on top of a log. Whenever I see her, she's full of hatred. But this time, I found her in such a pitiful state... I've never seen her cry like that..."
As Arya spoke, tears began to stream down her face. "I know she deserves it after everything she did to you and for all of her foolish actions. But it still hurts, you know? She's still my mother..." she confessed.
That even made him feel a little sorry for his cousin. He moved closer and pulled her over to sit on the bed, wrapping her in an embrace.
"I'm not going to mourn for her, Arya. But I'm sorry for you. I didn't want to hurt you with this, which is why I didn't say anything after I first saw her and never intended to," Jon said.
His cousin did not reply. She simply remained in his embrace, crying silently. She said nothing more after that and just continued crying. After all, despite everything, she was still her mother. It certainly was not something anyone would want to see.
Lyanna Stark had also, essentially, been a central piece in that tragedy. Although much of the blame rested on the maesters themselves, she still carried her share of responsibility for the war that set Westeros ablaze when she ran away with his father.
Jon would not want to see divine punishment fall upon her. At the same time, many of the people who blamed her for the Rebellion War would probably wish for something like that. Jon could understand very well that seeing your mother become a monster could not possibly be the best experience.
Jon stayed with Arya until she fell asleep. Afterward, he laid her down properly on the bed and went to sleep on the opposite side.
The following morning, he woke up with Arya clinging to his back, hugging him. Jon gently removed her arm and got up.
At the same time, as if summoned, the enormous ball of fur entered the tent. It was Nymeria, accompanied by two more direwolves who could not fit inside and remained outside.
Arya also woke up at that moment, blinking a few times before noticing Jon putting on a coat in the corner.
"Nymeria..." she said with a smile. Then she turned back to Jon.
"Good morning," Jon said.
"Good morning..." Arya sighed and nodded.
She didn't comment on the fact that she had slept in his bed. It wouldn't have been the first time since they arrived in the Riverlands. She also said nothing more about her crying and her mother. Jon respected that, although he would have tried to comfort her if she had asked.
Jon stepped outside after petting Nymeria for a while and greeting the other direwolves. They looked like enormous dogs, their tongues hanging out.
"How are you all doing?" he said to the wolves while stroking their fur, with Arya and Nymeria joining them.
"Jon," said Barristan Selmy.
He was acting as one of the tent guards, alongside another man, in an almost theatrical manner, since they were not allowed to use their titles there.
Those two hundred men they had recruited did not ask many questions. Jon and his guards had made one thing very clear: if they did not want to suffer during daily training, no one should be overly curious.
But they knew... that all of those people were very different from simple armed men. They fought in a way that made it impossible for anyone to even scratch them during training, and they maintained a type of guard around Jon and Arya that not even knights would be capable of performing.
Lord Kaeth would also send more men while they tried to build a supporting force. After all, most of those present were just ordinary people, men who had never held a sword in their lives, many sent merely to be discarded from their own lands so there would be fewer mouths to feed.
Jon gathered with the Arcticans around a certain spot while the rest of the camp also began another day, following the orders Lancelot had already given everyone.
The Arcticans' tent stood in a different area from the rest of the camp. No one approached that tent. Partly for Jon's safety, but mainly for Arya's, who was the only woman among them, besides being young and possessing the beauty of a princess. Naturally, that attracted attention.
However, with a Kingsguard there to protect her, along with the giant wolves, no one dared.
But that did not stop some young men from trying to approach her, asking Barristan Selmy and Lancelot about her while they were being trained, even attempting to give her flowers or poems, among those who knew how to write.
Arya rejected them all, and none of the guards paid any attention to it, with those individuals receiving even harsher training.
In any case, Jon turned his attention back to the men.
"Well, as you know, yesterday I sent a letter." He began explaining while picking up a stick and drawing an improvised map of the Riverlands on the ground, marking each of the regions where they were. They were currently in Blackwood territory, far to the north.
"The two thousand Frey men are advancing toward this region to the east of here. That's why we need to leave this place because of their scouts. Certainly not because they'll naturally come to us—we're far from the main road—but because they'll hear rumors and come investigate. We're a very large cavalry force."
"Indeed," said Lancelot.
Jon continued drawing lines on the map. "We're going to move farther over here, closer to the coast. But before we go, I need to separate a group."
He looked at each of them before stopping at one of the Kingsguard, Bari.
"I want you to command the cavalry force we're building here." Bari remained silent, listening.
"A group of horses is coming from the south. That will provide mounts for all the men who still don't have them and will also bring a few more men to the cause. In addition, I expect Sandor Clegane to join you later."
Jon had performed surgery on Sandor before leaving Castle Darry. Using healing magic, he restored the man's burned face. To do so, he locked himself in a room and used a small kitchen blade to remove all of the ruined skin from the unconscious man before rebuilding it with magic.
Sandor would certainly be surprised when he woke up. The letter Jon had left for him, along with some gold coins, would also help him join that cavalry force. In the end, the man had failed to get his revenge. After being wounded, he had only managed to injure his brother, leaving his sword lodged in the man's leg.
They had two hundred men who had been training for only a few weeks. They still were not ready. That alone would not be enough. For everything to work, Jon needed to leave someone he trusted to lead them for now, because help would arrive soon. He had made a decision because there were still eight thousand Frey men in those lands.
"Are you going to do something about the Lannisters?" Barristan asked. There were still two thousand men marching north.
Jon nodded. "Yes, that's why I've made a decision."
Soon, they would receive some knights coming from the north with news of what had happened at the Twins. After all, by that point, everyone already knew that communication by raven had been completely cut off.
"I have a plan," Jon explained. "When they arrive at the Twins in desperation after hearing what happened, they'll look for answers. Seagard will be in danger with two thousand men pounding on its gates and demanding to know the truth. Especially once the Mallisters have already bent the knee to us."
He did not want to do that, but he saw two possibilities. He could simply begin gathering all the animals of the Riverlands and send a force to that region.
At the same time, he could take part of the army that had originally been intended to attack the Westerlands.
As long as messages continued to be intercepted and ravens were prevented from reaching their destinations, the Lannisters in King's Landing would never know what was happening there, allowing him to leave a group of Arcticans within the Riverlands.
Jon looked at the map. They could catch them by surprise from behind.
"I know what to do." A small smile appeared on his face. "We'll take some ships from the fleet and deploy three thousand Arcticans to deal with that force."
Two thousand Frey men would be easily destroyed by three thousand Arcticans.
Jon whistled, and a falcon appeared among the tents shortly afterward. "I need you to gather three thousand men and have them stop on the coast of Kaeth's region," he ordered.
The bird listened to the command, and its eyes began to change. A warg who was listening from the other side, with the fleet, received the message. That type of communication was much faster than sending ravens, and he immediately began relaying the necessary orders to the ship captains, who would organize everything themselves.
"And what will you do, Your Majesty?" Barristan Selmy asked, looking thoughtful.
"I'm going back to the flagship with Arya and Lyman. I want you to head west from here and meet us there. It'll be a small group, and I'll also help guide you along the way with my eyes."
Jon paused briefly. "Meanwhile, I will personally lead the attack on Lannisport and, afterward, Casterly Rock." A small malicious smile appeared on his lips.
"I told that old lion to keep an eye on the news. I've already made him wait too long." His gaze turned cold. "It's time for him to see what will happen to his seat."
The men began dismantling the camp afterward and gathering all the equipment.
Meanwhile, Lyman Darry was still quite confused by everything that had happened since the previous day. He certainly had not fully recovered after spending entire moons imprisoned in a cell within the very castle where he had been born and raised.
He did not even know exactly how all that chaos had begun.
All he remembered was the Lannister attack on the Riverlands after the Northern army marched south and joined the forces of the Trident.
His father, Ser Raymun Darry, had joined Robb's cause, but he later learned that his father had died at the Battle of the Mummer's Ford. He had been forced to assume the position of Lord Darry and then learned that his castle had been conquered by the Lannisters.
He ended up swearing himself to the cause of Robb and the North, hoping to reclaim his lands someday.
But after all the chaos that had spread throughout the realm, he managed to retake the castle. Unfortunately, he found most of the servants dead, the women raped and kept only to warm the beds of the damned Lannisters. His treasury had been looted.
Yet within a few weeks, the Lannisters attacked the castle again. They managed to break through the defenses with a heavy assault led by the Mountain himself. They brought the castle down once more.
Lyman watched his bastard brothers being killed by Gregor Clegane. He saw several other people he trusted murdered as well. Afterward, he was thrown into a cell while his captors never stopped laughing whenever they brought him scraps of food.
Young Darry had never imagined he would find himself in such a situation. He lost hope, the North lost, Robb Stark fell... Then, in the middle of the night, someone appeared.
He killed the guards silently and came to his cell.
At first, Lyman thought it was Rhaegar himself. He must have been delirious, perhaps because of the lack of light. He had not even properly noticed the stranger's eyes or hair. It was simply his first thought when he saw him... because he had always liked seeing the last dragon prince during most of his days.
It was only afterward that he noticed the details and heard the man say that many people confused him with his father.
Lyman became even more confused. But at the same time, deeply surprised. Then the man returned, saying that the entire castle had already been taken and that the cells would be opened.
Lyman could barely believe it. He left together with the other prisoners and found all the servant girls who had belonged to House Darry before the invasion or who had been captured to serve the Lannisters in the region.
The few survivors helped that man gather the bodies one by one. More than two hundred Lannisters were piled up in the courtyard, waiting to be burned.
And all of that had been accomplished practically by a single person. Even though he had received help, he had done something alone that Lyman did not even believe was possible.
Magic.
Flying on a giant eagle was already astonishing by itself. Now he found himself in that camp, eating a meal while watching the meeting between the leaders and the king.
From what he had heard, all those tents being used by two hundred men were part of a force being created to combat banditry and the Freys.
And all of it was led by none other than Jon. The same man who had saved him and killed hundreds of men by himself, the man who was said to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.
With the camp dismantled, they set out on their journey. The march was somewhat slow. The men were not as organized as the main group.
Even so, they advanced toward the coast over the following days. During the journey, Lyman came to know Jon better, though he still did not wish to reveal his identity publicly outside the group.
He also got to know Arya Stark. She was quite friendly toward him, although she had a sharp tongue. He felt a little embarrassed around her; she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he had not expected her to be the sister of the former King in the North. She also treated him like a brother, always reminding him that he looked like Rickon Stark.
Lyman was still recovering. His body felt weak, but the king began giving him something every day. It was greatly improving his health. He did not know exactly what it was.
But whenever he drank it, he felt stronger and stronger. The king only said that it was a remedy he had cultivated himself.
Whatever had caused it, the young man continued traveling with the group on horseback while watching those men give orders and trying not to bother his king too much.
Lyman Darry was now part of that journey. The hope that had died during the first moons he spent thrown into that cell had returned.
As he looked at the current king, he could not help but think about it. His family had always supported the Targaryens.
Now, watching Jon from behind, calmly talking with his cousin and listening to his men whenever they asked for help or simply wished to speak with him, Lyman believed that this was the king Westeros should have had.
Even though he still knew very little about him. Even though he had seen giant animals, enormous wolves, and colossal eagles around him. Even though he had seen him use magic.
Perhaps this was a king truly worth following. Unlike any previous king—Robert, Joffrey, or Robb.
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