".That concludes the Northern Council's judgment on Karhold."
After burning down the main keep, the great black dragon stood openly atop the smoke-wreathed gate tower, facing the town outside the walls, announcing to everyone inside and outside the castle the decision made by the Northern lords' council under Stannis's leadership.
This time, he did not proclaim himself Deathwing or anything else.
In such a solemn and cruel occasion, Dany had no mind for theatrics.
The city was burned decisively, the crimes were declared decisively, and he departed just as decisively.
Oh, before leaving, he also used his claws to seize the mutilated corpse hanging from the flagpole, the head and torso of the Pockmarked Knight.
"It's finally over." Watching the black dragon leap into the ashen sky, Cregan exhaled deeply while supporting his wife.
He had survived.
After killing the Pockmarked Knight and hanging his body for public display, Cregan had already guessed that Winterfell's reaction would be intense.
He had indeed needed pressure from Winterfell to force Karhold to unite as one.
Winterfell's pressure would not drive the people of Karhold to rebel against him.
The Long Night stretched endlessly. One sacrifice could only last a year. Even if the people of Karhold killed him, Cregan, to appease Winterfell, they would still have to offer sacrifices to the Cold God the following year.
And the straight-line distance from Winterfell to Karhold was nearly fifteen hundred kilometers. It was too far. Even wyverns would struggle to drop bombs at that range, and carrying incendiary bombs in flight would be exhausting.
In other words, the only force capable of punishing them was the Dragon Queen's dragon.
For that reason, Cregan had long prepared for the possibility of dragonfire consuming the city.
For example, he had quietly arranged for his family to stay in the cellar of the rear courtyard.
For example, he had transferred supplies out of the castle and sealed the granaries in the underground levels.
For example, he had replaced the Thenn garrison on the walls with Northmen, using blood feud to bind the people together.
For example—
"The dragon came too quickly. It was as if the moment I killed the Knight of the Fiery Heart, Winterfell already knew. That isn't normal."
Cregan pondered for a moment. Suddenly his pupils contracted, and a chill ran down his spine.
"A skinchanger! Damn it, one of the Stark skinchanger's ravens must have been in Karhold last night. Fortunately, the raven didn't remain in the castle the whole time." He shuddered at the thought.
If the Starks had known he was prepared, then—
At the very least, the dragon could have found his family's hiding place, and dragonfire would have roasted them alive.
"Will the raven fly back to inspect Karhold's condition?" Alys Karstark asked worriedly.
Cregan nodded heavily several times, his gaze turning cold. "If only Karhold sacrifices to the Cold God, it will stand out too much. Perhaps I should pledge allegiance to another King in the North."
"Another King in the North?" Alys's expression changed drastically. "You mean Roose Bolton?"
Yes, the Leech Lord was not dead.
Though the Leech Lord and the Bastard of Bolton were father and son, after the War of the Four Kings they became "independent nobles" with their own lands and titles.
Winterfell belonged to the Bastard, who became the Earl of Winterfell, inheriting the Stark ancestral castle and lands. Roose Bolton was promoted from Earl of the Dreadfort to Duke of the Dreadfort, continuing to rule the Bolton family's ancestral domain.
They were father and son, but they were effectively separated households.
Thus, after the Bastard married the false Arya and defeated Stannis, Roose Bolton returned to his own seat with his men.
Roose Bolton was not the lord of Winterfell. The Bastard was.
It was like the Riverlands at present: Riverrun belonged to Aemon Frey, while his father Walder Frey remained Lord of the Twins.
In the television series, because Roose's wife, Fat Walda, bore him a son, the Bastard feared his younger brother would threaten his status as Bolton heir. So he killed Roose and sent his stepmother and infant brother to the kennels, where they were devoured by hounds.
That plot cemented the Bastard's infamous cruelty, but it gravely insulted Roose Bolton's intelligence. Roose had long known what kind of creature his bastard son was. He saw straight through him.
Unless he himself permitted it, he would never have given Ramsay the chance to harm his younger son.
Even if Fat Walda bore a nest of golden phoenixes, it would not shake Ramsay Bolton's inheritance of Winterfell.
The Bastard could become the "legitimate" lord of Winterfell only because he married "Arya Stark."
With the Stark male line extinct, Sansa a wanted criminal accused of regicide, and Arya the only lawful heir to Winterfell, whoever married her could legally inherit Winterfell.
Just as during Aegon's Conquest, when the male line of House Durrandon ended, Orys Baratheon married the daughter of the last Storm King and changed Storm's End to House Baratheon.
Just as Cregan married Alys and changed Karhold's name to Thenn.
Of course, this did not mean the Bastard had no murderous intent toward his brother. After all, he surely coveted the ducal title of the Dreadfort as well.
It was simply that he had no need to resort to such extreme methods that would brand him openly as a kinslayer.
When he murdered his own trueborn brother, he used poison with terrifying skill. People suspected him, yet there was not a shred of evidence.
If he had slain his father outright, how would he explain himself to his vassals and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms?
And if he had brazenly killed his stepmother and infant brother, did he truly think House Frey would sit idly by?
Therefore, the Leech Lord had not died ignobly at his son's hands as in the television plot. His wife and young son were both alive and well.
And so, Cregan conceived the idea of dragging him into the mire.
"No matter what, Roose Bolton is a duke of the North recognized by the Iron Throne. I should write him a letter of allegiance.
I've heard his Frey wife just bore him a son. The Others should be nearing the Dreadfort by now.
Roose Bolton and the Dreadfort will replace us as the Dragon Queen's greatest target.
And Roose Bolton is no fool. He will surely tell the other nobles how he preserved the Dreadfort.
In that way, the great lords of Winterfell will no longer have the leisure to concern themselves with us." Cregan's eyes were dark as he spoke in a sinister tone.
Alys stared wide-eyed at her husband. "If you do that, the North will truly be finished."
"The last Long Night lasted an entire generation. Do you think the North can endure a generation?" Cregan said quietly.
"But what if there are too many Others, and the promised savior cannot end the Long Night?" Alys asked anxiously.
"You think no one offered sacrifices to the Cold God during the last Long Night? Let me tell you, beyond the Wall, sacrificing to the Cold God is practically a well-known custom." Cregan shook his head with a bitter smile.
"And you have seen it yourself. The Dragon Queen can fly. She can actually fly! Azor Ahai cannot fly, nor does he have dragons. What does that tell you?
It tells us that the Dragon Queen is far stronger than Azor Ahai. She does not need to concern herself with the small trouble we add to her burdens."
Saigon was full of confidence. No matter what he had done in despair at this moment, he remained hopeful about the future.
The Long Night would eventually be ended by the savior. As long as he endured, there would one day be sunlight again.
"Isn't the savior Stannis? I heard that Her Majesty Daenerys denies that she is Azor Ahai reborn," Arya asked in confusion.
"Stannis still insists he is the King of the Seven Kingdoms, but is he?" Saigon said with clear disdain.
Infected by her husband's confidence, Arya began to worry about the future instead. "If the Long Night ends and the Dragon Queen carries out a great purge, what will we do?"
"Karhold is not far from the Wall. Before the Long Night ends, I will voluntarily don the black. Once I take the black, all past crimes are wiped away." Saigon smiled faintly.
"Will that work?" Arya was still uneasy.
"Heh, when the Long Night truly ends, among all the survivors in the world, who would not have dealings with the Others? As the saying goes, the law does not punish the multitude. No matter how ruthless she is, can she kill everyone?
Besides, I am not afraid of death. As long as you live and we have a few more children, as long as you all live well and House Thenn continues, I fear nothing.
And even in the worst-case scenario, if the savior truly carries out the harshest purge, when she turns her reckoning toward the southerners, we can quietly lead our people beyond the Wall and live as free folk."
Seeing that her husband had already thought everything through, Arya finally felt at ease.
"Yes, I will bear you a few more sons."
"No, I want daughters. Gods bless us, let them all be daughters," Saigon said hoarsely.
The Dreadfort was only a few hundred kilometers from Karhold. A raven could reach it in an afternoon.
By dusk, Roose Bolton had received Saigon's letter of allegiance.
The contents were exceptionally "sincere." Saigon gave a detailed account of his recent experiences.
How he discovered traces of the Others, how he carried his son into the forest, how he completed the sacrifice, and how the army of the Others quickly withdrew.
It read almost like an instruction manual.
"Saigon Thenn. Interesting." Roose Bolton's expression remained calm, without excitement, delight, or fury.
"Unfortunately, you underestimate me." He slowly folded the letter, placed it into an empty envelope, and then bent over his desk to write another.
Across from him on a cushioned couch, Fat Walda was weeping softly.
"Stop crying. You are still young, and I am still capable. In the future you will bear many children." Though he spoke words of comfort to his wife, Roose Bolton's eyes remained as cold as ice.
Before Saigon's letter arrived, the lord of the Dreadfort had already completed his own sacrificial ritual.
Saigon had indeed underestimated him. The history of House Bolton was as long as that of House Stark. They had lived through the previous Long Night. Would they not know how to sacrifice to the Others?
Did they really need a wildling from beyond the Wall to remind them?
They had long since washed their son clean, simply waiting for the Other lords to come and claim him.
"But the Dragon Queen burned Karhold…" Fat Walda said timidly, her Frey family's characteristic watery blue eyes wide.
Though she was as round as a pink ball, Walda Frey was not foolish. On the contrary, she had received a full noble education. She could read, write, and think for herself.
"So what? Only the Others know how many nobles have sacrificed to the cold god. Can the Dragon Queen burn the entire North?" Roose Bolton's smooth face showed no trace of emotion.
"The Dreadfort is different. We are enemies of the Starks. Saigon means us no good. He might tell Winterfell that we also…"
Fat Walda had her own judgment about the current situation in the North.
Roose Bolton set down his pen and blew gently on the ink to dry it. Unhurriedly, he folded the letter, slipped it into the envelope from before, sealed it with wax, and pressed his house's sigil into it.
He then summoned a servant and instructed the maester to send the letter to King's Landing.
Only after finishing all this did he speak softly to his wife. "Remember your mother's surname. If you encounter the Dragon Queen, immediately tell her who your maternal uncle is.
No matter what I have done, she will not touch a single hair on you or your children."
"My uncle… Jon Darry? Willem Darry?" Fat Walda murmured thoughtfully.
Saigon had his own calculations, even considering the purge after the Long Night. Roose Bolton also had his own arrangements and had already considered the political landscape of the Seven Kingdoms after it ended.
When he married Fat Walda, it was entirely because she was fat.
Walder Frey had promised that as long as Roose agreed to marry a Frey, he would provide silver equal to the bride's weight as her dowry.
Now he had discovered just how special Fat Walda's identity was.
House Bolton would certainly survive this Long Night.
Roose Bolton was full of confidence.
"Caw, caw." A large raven flew past the duke's bedchamber window, a message tube tied to its leg. Inside were the lord of the Dreadfort's letter and Saigon's letter to him.
In a few days, they would fall into the hands of Cersei or Euron. Soon after, parts of their contents would spread across Westeros like a plague virus.
Perhaps not only Westeros.
This was a virus that would sweep the world.
It came from the human heart and infected the human heart.
(Postscript: House Darry of Darry in the Riverlands was unquestionably the Targaryens' most loyal vassal.
Jon Darry served as a Kingsguard to the Mad King and died alongside Rhaegar at the Ruby Ford. Willem Darry, master-at-arms of the Red Keep in King's Landing, raised Viserys and Daenerys for five years until his death.
Fat Walda's mother was the younger sister of Jon Darry and Willem Darry.
Her mother had five brothers. Three died at the Ruby Ford, one led the surviving Targaryen heirs into distant exile, and only the youngest, named Raymun, remained in Darry to inherit the family estate.
Of the five brothers, four gave their lives in loyalty to the Targaryens.
Even more than a decade after Robert's Rebellion, Lord Raymun secretly hung the true dragon banner in his hall, always hoping to welcome the Targaryens' return.
A family of true and steadfast loyalty.
Darry to the Targaryens was as Mormont was to the Starks.
Unfortunately, during the War of the Four Kings, House Darry was exterminated by the Mountain's men, and its male line was extinguished.)
(End of Chapter)
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