[Chapter Size: 4100 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Reach, 300 AC.
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"Has there been any change in the plans?" the female voice asked curiously.
The crystal candle illuminated the area as Jon sipped some mead, studying the map.
Arya stood beside him. She had not attended the meeting with the lords under the banner of peace that afternoon because she had not been there.
Now, both of them were farther north, though not too far from the enemy army. There were no campfires or anything that would reveal the presence of such a massive encampment, unlike the one in the south. They used crystals to provide low-intensity light, and there was no smoke that might draw attention.
They had been forced to keep several villages under control from the coast all the way to this point, preventing anyone from leaving to spread rumors that an enormous line of ships had simply appeared along the northern coast, unloading ten thousand men who were now advancing through the Westerlands themselves.
"There hasn't been any change to the plan." Jon said after a moment of silence, his eyes fixed on the map.
They were dealing with every scout in that region. They had managed to eliminate many of them and even replace some with infiltrated men. After their spies gathered information from each scout—their name, the region they operated in, and their superiors—at least three infiltrators would be sent into the Lannister army, feeding them false information and maintaining the enemy's trust while everyone's attention remained focused on the south.
But how was that possible? How could there be ten thousand men in the north if the entire army was supposed to be gathered in the south? And how could Jon, who had attended the meeting with the lords that very afternoon miles away, now, in the middle of the night, be inside the other camp speaking only with Arya?
The secret was simple.
As soon as they reached the plains days earlier, they immediately began carrying out the plan. Every scout in the region was hunted down. Even the messengers were killed to ensure no information escaped. Anyone who was not a scout but showed too much curiosity was also quickly detained by Arctic's own scouts, who now patrolled the entire region while the warg patrol animals pointed out anyone watching their movements.
The scouts captured those people before they could flee. Many begged to be released, but that was impossible at that moment. They could not risk any information reaching the enemy's ears, so they were keeping them in temporary custody.
Because of that, Jon split off ten thousand of the fifteen thousand men. Only five thousand remained in the south, hidden among the plains and hills, protecting the camp, the siege engines, and the equipment.
The siege equipment behind the plains consisted of pieces they had assembled over the past few days as well. After all, there was no need to haul trebuchets and other weapons everywhere. All they had to do was transport components that had already been manufactured in Arctic, designed to be easily assembled by their men in times of war. They only needed wagons, and they would have a mobile siege arsenal that could be assembled and deployed far more quickly than dragging fully assembled machines across the land...
It wasn't difficult to prepare most of it and have five thousand men make it seem as though the entire army was still there.
It was a risk, because if the Lannisters discovered the truth, they would have attacked, and Jon would have had to use Eragon at that moment, since the dragon was already flying over the region, ready to be deployed.
From the very beginning, the intention had been to make the Lannisters believe the entire army remained there, allowing them to advance close enough to be struck. They had also managed to hit a large portion of their supplies and part of the army's rear, maintaining the illusion of a massive encampment thanks to the weapons they had fired over the past few days, including numerous barrels prepared with wildfire, as well as a siege weapon capable of launching around three hundred arrows into the sky at once.
Meanwhile, during the previous days, the other ten thousand men marched to the coast, where Arctic's ships were already waiting for them. The coastal villages were also kept under control. Whenever someone tried to escape, they were immediately captured to ensure no information got out. Guards were stationed throughout the villages. There was no abuse, but they kept a close watch to make sure no one left.
From there, the fleet carrying the ten thousand men sailed directly north, staying out of sight of the coastline. Only during the early hours before dawn did they approach the shore of the lands south of Durwell. The soldiers disembarked in silence and continued marching toward Oakheart, positioning themselves strategically north of the Lannister camp, using the wooded areas to completely conceal their movements.
Naturally, they would never expect an attack from that direction. They would be caught between two fronts.
Jon left all of his giants in the south because they would have slowed the march to the coast, while at the same time forming the perfect defensive line. Even the Lannisters' remaining twenty-five thousand men would have struggled to break through that position, especially with the two thousand dwarves and the three thousand soldiers deployed to create an impeccable defense.
Meanwhile, the ten thousand men would strike like an arrow, piercing the enemy from the rear before they had time to react. At the front, the giant archers would unleash a true massacre, while the infantry held back the first waves of soldiers that approached.
And how had Jon gotten there?
It was very simple. When one possessed a dragon, traveling during the night was no problem at all. Eragon was large and white, yet he knew how to remain silent and discreet. He only needed to land somewhere far from anyone's sight, in some isolated location.
Of course, many people could have seen the enormous creature. After all, those villages had not fled like the others along the main road the army had traveled, but that did not represent any real risk, as long as word did not reach the enemy.
Jon would then continue on to the camp with the intention of speaking to his troops. The meeting had already ended, but he decided to remain there to talk with Arya.
The plan was simple. His soldiers would do the work of destroying the Lannisters. Eragon would only be used at the decisive moment, to wipe out the enemy's entire force in a single blow if it became necessary to resort to that.
Jon looked at the map with satisfaction. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned from the very beginning.
"Tomorrow, we'll destroy them." His first great victory against the Lannisters would come the following day.
"And what do you intend to do after that?" Arya asked. "Are we going to the capital?"
The two of them had not yet discussed that. Jon had said he needed to think it through more carefully, but he already knew that his fifteen thousand men alone would not make much of a difference during the siege of the capital.
The ships needed to dock somewhere in Crackclaw Point.
Some lords had already received his letters. He had also seen how they responded. Naturally, several of them wasted no time and immediately sent knights to warn King's Landing.
It was a pity that none of those knights would ever reach their destination.
One of them, for example, Lord Cave, would meet a rather strange end. As he walked down the castle stairs, a small dog belonging to his wife got between his legs, causing him to stumble. The fall was violent, and he struck his head immediately afterward. He might not die, but he would certainly end up in a coma under the care of a maester—the very one they had been forced to remove from the dungeon cells after discovering he had been spying on House Cave for the Citadel.
Jon was already capable of manipulating events like that from a distance, controlling small animals scattered along the way. He did it only because the war demanded it. Many would call him a demon or a practitioner of sorcery, controlling animals to make lords suffer mysterious accidents in countless ways, but those were simply his abilities. If he could use them to prevent unnecessary casualties among his people and stop enemy lords from organizing their armies more effectively, he would do so without the slightest hesitation.
It was not yet time for his enemies to discover the true extent of his powers.
In any case, some lords had responded favorably to his letters. Jon sent new messages, informing them that the army would be marching in that direction.
He also dispatched orders to three lords, in addition to Driftmark and Dragonstone, which remained under Ducken's control and the main force of Arctic. Every ship found at sea was to be captured immediately. No one could be allowed to escape and carry news of what was truly happening.
Of course, that secret would not last forever. Even with most of the fleet hidden out at sea and behind the islands, intercepting every vessel sailing between King's Landing and the major ports of Essos, sooner or later someone would discover their movements. But by then, it would already be too late.
"We're not going to the capital yet. We'll continue heading south." Jon pointed at the map, focusing solely on strategy as he dragged his finger directly toward the heart of the Reach.
"We're going to take Highgarden," he finally said.
"The Tyrells..." Arya murmured.
"They no longer owe us anything, but they're still our enemies for siding with the Lannisters. Under different circumstances, I would have beheaded them. But now, I'll deal with them in a friendlier manner, although they'll still suffer the consequences..." Jon replied.
"Who's in the castle?" Arya asked.
"Willas. The man who still insists on remaining engaged to you. I believe he still has hope, since he has never announced another fiancée."
She looked at him with an ironic smile. "I've already turned him down twice. But you wouldn't let that happen anyway, would you?"
"No. You're a princess of Arctic. Not that there's any chance you'd actually leave our kingdom..." Jon let out a brief laugh.
"I know, but the way you say it... Some people might even say my king cousin is jealous."
"And what if I am?" Jon asked, looking straight at her.
Before either of them could say anything else, they both moved at the same time. Arya grabbed him and kissed him passionately, meeting Jon's own initiative as well, their lips crashing together with force.
The kiss was intense. Jon could feel the curves of his cousin's body beneath his hands, since she wasn't wearing armor this time. She was dressed in a green gown. He slid both hands down her back until they cupped her buttocks, pulling her upward. He lifted her and set her atop the map table, knocking over all the markers representing the allied and enemy troops, while Arya looked at him with desire.
"Take me as yours tonight, Jon," she said in a sensual tone.
She opened her legs as they began to emerge from beneath her dress, which started to ride up, a clear invitation for Jon to move closer. He gladly did so, pressing himself directly against her, their groins rubbing together, and Arya moaned with pleasure as their groins pressed against each other.
Jon kissed her again with intensity, and moans escaped Arya's lips as she began unbuttoning Jon's shirt, running her hands across his chest. At the same time, she grabbed his buttocks, pulling him closer, wanting to feel just how warm his body was against her touch.
"I've wanted this for a long time, Jon. I want you. I want to be yours and no one else's. You ruined me a long time ago."
Jon smiled and asked, "I ruined you?"
She returned to kissing his neck. Jon couldn't put into words how much he loved her touch. He himself had desired this for a long time.
Arya had always held a very special place in his heart. She had always been the very definition of a she-wolf, just as her mother once had been.
Not that he took any pleasure in the idea of taking his own mother to bed, or anything like that. He had his limits as well. But he loved that fierce spirit of a she-wolf of Winterfell, and honestly, Jon was already married to his aunt and his half-sister. What difference would it make if his cousin were as well?
Besides, it wasn't as though they still had the relationship they had shared in childhood. That had ended long ago. Now they were both adults, living adventures across the world, fighting wars, and facing enemies who could kill them at any moment. Even against all odds, there was still a chance they would not survive the wars, and this was far from the first one.
Both of them had changed since they traveled to Essos. From that time on, the way they interacted gradually became more like that of a man and a woman than that of siblings. They had already accepted that they were not truly brother and sister, but cousins, and that everything they had lived through together had created a deep bond between them.
Jon was already selfish enough not to want his cousin marrying anyone. He wanted her to be his alone whenever they found themselves in situations that felt strange to them both. Things had become more tense after Lord Stark passed away, when Arya cried in his bed while he held her in his arms...
And things had only continued to develop since they came south... The tension between them grew stronger each time... Arya had already kissed him and had slept in his bed many times... He couldn't hold back any longer.
He wanted her. Perhaps it was a possessive thought, but it wasn't as though Arctic would fall apart because of their relationship. Jon desired her, and she desired him as well. So that was how it would be.
"No man compares to you, my beloved cousin. Not Willas, not King Joffrey. No one..." Arya said with a mischievous smile close to Jon's lips.
She had received countless marriage proposals over the past few years, even though many of them had come only in letters. Ever since she returned, every kind of proposal had been made to her. Numerous lords had sent their interest to Winterfell, even from the North, seeking an alliance through her. The proposals constantly reached her father, even during the journeys they made across the North alongside her siblings.
"I've never been able to like anyone because I always compared them to you. And honestly... I've loved you for a long time. More than I'd like to admit." She confessed, looking at him with eyes full of longing before returning to kiss his neck.
Jon smiled. "Arya... I'm not going to hold myself back anymore. I've been trying to do that for a long time, especially when you sleep in my bed," he murmured.
"But I don't want you to hold back anymore. I want you to make me yours, just as I've been hoping for all those nights."
Jon let out a quiet sigh. So that was it. Arya had been trying to seduce him every time she slept beside him?
Ever since the first time she cried over her mother and ended up sleeping with him, it had become a habit. The rumors among the men certainly existed, but Arya didn't seem to care. Jon never said anything either. He simply hoped it would happen naturally.
And it wasn't as though everyone would truly be surprised by the relationship between the two of them. Arya had also given a great deal of thought to the suitors within Arctic, including members of the Royal Guard, who, in that kingdom, were allowed to marry and have children.
But in the end, whenever she compared each of them, none of them seemed to measure up to Jon in her eyes, and she truly loved him. "I've waited for this for years, Jon. Take me as yours," she said, crossing her legs and pulling him closer.
His manhood began to harden beneath the thin fabric separating them, and the contact against her intimate area made Arya let out a soft moan of pleasure, aroused and anticipating the moment. She was willing to give her first time to him that night.
However, it seemed fate had other plans for that evening.
Jon was just about to slip the straps of her dress off her shoulders when someone entered the tent.
"Your Majesty..." the man said as he stepped inside. However, he immediately froze upon finding Jon between the princess's exposed legs, pressing her against the table, both of them in a highly compromising position. Jon was shirtless, leaning over the young princess. The man swallowed hard at once.
"Turn around," Jon ordered in a firm tone.
The guard didn't hesitate. Jon sighed. After all, this was the king's meeting tent, guarded by the Royal Guard. Jon couldn't really blame him for entering like that, since it wasn't a private tent. After all, this wasn't a place that was supposed to be used to have sex with a princess.
Arya quickly adjusted her dress, covering her legs once more, while Jon stepped back, buttoned his shirt, and turned to face the man again. Even though he couldn't blame him too much, he was visibly in a bad mood.
"Without turning around. Tell me, what brings you here?" Jon asked in a displeased tone...
The man nodded. "My king, the scouts found a group heading toward House Durwell's seat. There are around two hundred men. They don't appear to have good intentions."
"House Durwell's seat? Why?"
Jon's expression darkened. They had left that place only a week earlier. Why would anyone turn their attention there when the entire army was concentrated in the south?
That caught him by surprise as well, since none of his eyes had seen it... Jon couldn't watch every place at the same time. Although he currently possessed thousands of eyes scattered throughout Westeros, there were still blind spots beyond his control. He focused his attention on the most important locations: inside the armies, within the castles, and around their surroundings. Even so, there were events he simply couldn't keep track of.
His wolves had already left the North and advanced farther south, watching for any troop movements gathering at Oakheart and throughout the rest of the Reach. There was considerable military activity. The scouts had already reported movements farther south. Highgarden already knew about them, and Willas, as the current Lord of the Reach, was discussing with the other lords how to deal with them while also trying to warn King's Landing about the Arctican army there. Jon had been expecting exactly that.
Kevan had a plan: to hold back Arctic's army for as long as possible so that the Reach could gather another force and strike them from the rear.
Meanwhile, he was sending men in every direction in search of information. Many never returned. However, his attention was not focused on House Durwell's lands. Since he had already left, the place no longer needed to be watched because it posed no threat. There was only a woman and a child there, along with a handful of guards and soldiers.
He might have expected only a few knights arriving from the North and the East to inquire about Arctic, but never a group of two hundred men. That certainly was not a simple reconnaissance mission.
"The wargs infiltrated the group a short while ago. They intend to commit atrocities in House Durwell's lands and place the blame on you."
Jon's eyes immediately darkened. "So they resort to those methods as well...? I thought only Tywin would do something like that."
Kevan had never seemed like the sort of man capable of devising a plan of that nature. Jon had expected something like that from Tywin...
"It wasn't him, Your Majesty," the Kingsguard replied.
"It was Lord Myatt. They want to paint you as a monster to the rest of Westeros. They intend to burn down House Durwell's seat, kill the lady and her daughter, and then tell the rest of Westeros it was your doing, showing everyone what kind of monsters we are."
Jon remembered Lady Elyse Durwell, who had tried to seduce him and spend the night with him. But his thoughts quickly turned to the little girl, little Alyssa, the one who reminded him so much of his own daughter.
"Help me put on my armor," Jon said to Arya.
Her eyes widened. "You're going north? The only way to get there in time is..." An enormous dragon immediately came to her mind, the creature that remained beside the camp.
"So be it," Jon replied.
He then turned back to the guard, who still stood motionless.
"How far are they from House Dustin's seat?"
"Only a few minutes away. The scout just reported spotting them while patrolling the area. He rode as fast as he could and only stopped now to report it. They're so vile, my king. They intend to commit atrocities..."
"I know. Damn southerners..." Jon growled.
Turning once more to the guard, he ordered, "You may leave. Inform the others that I'll be heading north with Eragon. I'll handle this myself."
The man nodded. He never turned around after Jon had ordered him to face outside, and it certainly drew a few curious glances from the other guards at the entrance, but no one said anything as he left the tent.
Jon walked over to where his armor had been stored and began putting on the Valyrian mail. Arya immediately stepped forward to help him.
"Let me come with you," she pleaded.
"There's no time, Arya. It's only two hundred men. I'll deal with them and come back."
She wanted to protest, but remained silent. She simply helped him fasten each piece of his armor, tightening the leather straps that secured the steel plates.
Those suits of armor had already been designed to be donned without the need for a squire, but having someone assist made the process much faster.
When he finished, Jon picked up Blackfyre and fastened it to his waist.
Arya watched as he prepared to leave the tent. Before he departed, she leaned in and kissed him. "Come back quickly."
Jon simply nodded. Then he left the tent. Several of his men were already waiting outside after the Kingsguard had informed them of the situation.
There was nothing they could do except watch the king walk toward the dragon. No one could travel as fast as the enormous white creature.
Eragon had been watching him the entire time with his sapphire-blue eyes, waiting for him with his saddle secured beneath his neck. Jon had already conveyed his intentions through their bond, and the dragon, who had been resting moments before, was now fully prepared to depart.
"We have some Lannisters to hunt tonight, my friend." Jon stroked the side of the dragon's snout.
Eragon answered with a powerful snort, letting a small burst of fire escape from his nostrils.
Jon smiled at his companion's determination and, moments later, mounted Eragon, settling into the saddle.
"Now, let's hunt them."
At that command, the dragon spread his enormous wings and launched himself into the sky. Within moments, Eragon was slicing through the darkness of the night, leaving the camp behind as he flew toward House Durwell's lands.
Jon would not allow that to happen. Much less would he allow that little girl to suffer.
As he flew, his familiar fury began to awaken with every thought of it. He could feel his body growing hot and cold at the same time, a strange yet familiar sensation, the result of the elements flowing through his blood and his own powers.
His eyes remained fixed on the horizon.
There was no room for mercy.
Those men had chosen their own fate the moment they decided to murder innocents for the chance to stain his name and Arctic's.
Jon would make every one of them pay.
With fire and blood.
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