Author's Note" From this point on, this chapter is going to be hard for me to write for a lot of reasons.

[1] I want to portray the Silver Hand as cruel, abusive people. It's true that they used to hunt primarily feral werewolves, but that changed somewhere along the lines. Now they outright torture their catches before finally killing them.

[2] This chapter is going to be gritty in the way that only A Game of Thrones can be, which coincides with the first part. Torture, blood, and gore. I'll spare asking people with weak constitutions to not read, because, lets face it, you'll read it, or you won't.

[3] The OC I mentioned. You may like him, you may hate him, but he's mine, and I want to do him justice because of what he is. And there will be at least two more after him.

7: The Silver Hand Stained with Blood

{To Lord Eddard Stark House Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North -

We of the Silver Hand have come to Westeros at the behest of the Unforeseen Queen of the Summerset Isle in pursuit of a notorious werewolf that has terrorized the province of Skyrim by the name of Jon Snow. He is responsible for the deaths of several of our brethren that made their home in Skyrim, as well as the deaths of many more.

We demand that you bring the beast to our camp just North of your holding, stripped down to his skin, and dragged behind a horse. This will weaken him to the point that he cannot transform in to his abominable for so that we can deal with him accordingly.

We also realize that you may be reluctant to do this, so we have taken three individuals from your hold which include two young boys by the names of Bran and Tommen and one young woman by the name of Lydia. We also have the two large dogs the boys and woman had with them. They will all be returned safely after the delivery of the werewolf.

Should you fail to meet our demands, my men are hungry for a woman's touch, and the boys will be made to join our ranks while their beasts are destroyed.

- Borivik the Butcher}

Eddard read and reread the parchment several times before the drumming in his ears began to die down and he heard the arguments going on around him. Cersei was screeching at the top of her lungs about her son's safety to Robert and Jaime who had joined them not long after Theon had been brought in. Robert was only half-listening to his wife while Jaime was trying to calm her.

Catelyn was yelling at him about Jon, demanding that they do something about their son, and Robert was talking to Jon, keeping him from barreling into the den of Silver Hands.

Finally, Eddard had had enough and brought his fist down on the table, "ENOUGH!" His voice echoed off the walls of the room like the roll of thunder. Cersei looked at him in outrage, but was stopped from saying anything by Robert and Jaime, both knowing it was better to let the man talk that tempting his temper in such a state.

He looked at his son, "What will they do to you?"

"Kill me, of course," he shrugged, "It's a small price to pay for the children and Lydia's lives, Father, you know that."

"Small price, my fat arse!" Robert butted in, "The man just got you back, lad!"

Jon smiled at the king, "Now I never said that I'd let them kill me."

Theon looked at him, "Don't be stupid, you daft bastard," Eddard glared at him for the remark, but Theon kept talking, "Their camp is a few miles away by foot, and they're demanding that you be dragged, full gallop, by a bloody Northern warhorse!" He snapped, "I don't care what kind'a creature they claim you are, there's no surviving that!"

"I hate to agree with a Squid, no offense," Jaime said, giving the boy a look of apology, "But he's right. Jon'll be dead by the time he reaches them."

"None taken, pretty boy," Theon snarked, getting a snort out of Jon.

Catelyn was near frantic, "Well we can't just stand here talking about it!" She snapped, "If they want the bastard then give him - "

"CAT!" Eddard thundered, "OUT! NOW!"

"You can't - !"

"OUT!" Eddard thundered furiously. Cersei took the woman by her shoulders and escorted her out, muttering soothing words to her as they went, casting glares back at the men over her shoulder.

Robert stepped over and patted his friend on the shoulder, "Needed to be done, Ned, might come back to bite you, but it was needed nonetheless." He said, and looked at Jon, "Can you survive a drag like that?"

Jon nodded, "I've survived worse." He said, looking at Jaime and Theon, "Jaime, this is your nephew, so I would ask you to be the one to do the deed." He said, turning his attention to Theon, "And I'd ask you to lead him back to the camp."

Theon nodded slowly, not looking at the older boy, "Aye, I...I can do that."

Jaime shook his head, "I'll take no pleasure in any of this." He looked at Jon, "But you are very brave to do this. Even if it's for your brother and the prince."

"And a friend," Jon said, thinking of Lydia. Oh, he knew she was going to be furious with him. "We should get moving. Theon, can you ride?"

The Greyjoy nodded, "Aye." He left the room to go ready the horses. Jaime followed him out a moment later to prepare his armor. Robert gave Eddard's should a firm squeeze before leaving to inform their wives.

And then it was just the two of them, Eddard refusing to look at his son, and Jon knowing that there was no consoling him. "You cannot do this."

"I have to." Jon told him with a shake of his head, "I can't leave Lydia in their hands to be abused, and I will not take the chance that Bran and Tommen will be used to bolster their ranks."

Eddard raised his head, "You think I will allow you to go to your death? To be tortured?"

Jon looked at his father somberly, and reached out to place his hand on his shoulder, "I hope that you will trust me enough to let me deal with this murderers in my own way." Jon said, and smiled slightly, "I am far stronger in my wolf form than these fools can imagine. And being dragged across open control won't be enough to kill me, even if the horse is going full pelt."

"I do trust you, Jon," Eddard said, "But you are my son, and I cannot watch as your are tortured!"

Jon just sighed and stepped away from him, "Then stay in the castle."

ESV

The courtyard was quiet as Jon was led out of the castle in chains, his skin bared to the world. Eddard had ordered the rest of his family to their chambers, forbidding them from seeing the spectacle of their brother's torture.

Robert was present, having ordered his wife and children back to their rooms as well, along with Sir Roderick and Mikken. Theon was already in the saddle, his eyes cast down. Jaime was waiting for him patiently as the servants shackled him to the large warhorse's saddle. Mikken came forward with three new blades of ebony, the cross-guards etched in gold, and gleaming beautifully in the dim light of the North.

"Here," Mikken presented two of the long swords to Sir Jaime, "One of these is for Lydia. Let her not go without a weapon." He said before passing the remaining blade to Theon, "And for you, Greyjoy, you give these murdering bastards a good thumpin', eh?"

Theon nodded mutely as he took the sword while Jaime examined one of his, "These are deucedly fine blades," he commented, "I've never seen a metal like this."

"My finest work," Mikken commented as he ambled over to Jon, "I don't know how they know you, boy, or why they want you," he shook his head, "And I do not care. You come back alive, or so help me I'll beg the gods to bring you back just so I can whip your arse for leaving us again!"

Jon nodded at the man, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, "Jaime," he said as the man clipped one of the swords to his belt, and stored the other on his saddle, "Once we get there, make sure that they release the captives before they do anything to me. They may try to double-cross you otherwise."

Jaime nodded, "And what will you do, Young Snow?"

He witnessed the young man's silver eyes change to red, "I won't leave a single one of them alive." Jaime nodded and mounted the horse. He cast a look back at the young man he was about to drag. "Ready when you are."

Jaime nodded, "I'll follow you, Greyjoy."

"Gods' speed, all of you," Roderick commented before Theon kicked his horse harshly and broke out into a full gallop right out of the gate. Jaime followed suit, and Jon was yanked from his feet so fast that Robert thought he heard the crack of bone before he hit the ground, and his torment truly began.

Jon knew to keep his jaw loose lest he break his teeth while he was dragged, but found it hard to keep that thought in his head as the hard ground scraped and cut his skin. His wolf howled to be released, wanting to tear limb from limb the ones that were tormenting him, yet Jon just barely kept himself in control as he was dragged across the harsh ground.

People gawked and screamed as he was dragged through the town, whipping around, and striking barrels and carts here and there that added to the torment. His eyes blazed red as his wolf clawed ever closer to the surface, threatening his control over the beast. [A little longer,] he told the wolf inside himself, [Just a little longer and you can feast on their hearts!]

His skin burned with each bump and roll, the horses hooves kicked up stones and dirt, throwing them into his face, eyes and mouth. Theon rode beside him for a moment, calling down to him, "Just a little longer!"

Jon could only hope.

ESV

Ghost and Summer were caged together, both of them furiously biting at the bars of their prison. Next to them in a similar cage were Bran and Tommen huddled together; their cage was different than the direwolves'. The bars were etched with silver ruins, and reeked with the scent of wolf's bane. Borivik had thought the two boys infected with the curse, and forced them to drink fowl-tasting potions. When the boys did not become sick from the potions, they had been shoved roughly into the cages, and left alone save for a few drunken men staggering around and clanging the cages with their bottles.

In the last cage, relieved of her armor and her arms strung up to the top of her cage by rope, was Lydia. She wore rags in place of her armor, preserving her modesty for the most part as the rough burlap clothes were threadbare in several places. Like Theon she had been beaten to a point. The bruising imprint of a fist was across the right side of her face, and several of her ribs were just as badly bruised.

But nothing was broken.

She glanced about her, her eyes landing on her sword. Given the chance she would gladly gut these men, but they were many. Forty fighting men in all and armed to the teeth with silver-steel weapons. They meant to kill the sole werewolf of Westeros.

[Not if I have anything to say about it.] Lydia thought angrily.

Her musings were brought to an end as her lead captor lumbered over to her.

Borivik was a giant of a man at close to seven feet tall, almost as large as some trolls, his limbs as thick and tree branches. On his back he carried a large battleaxe, and his armor was steel plate with the hide of a werewolf over his shoulders as a cloak. He crouched down to her eye level, his eyes overshadowed by his horned helmet, "I am sorry about your treatment, if that makes you feel any better." He said in a deep, grizzled tone, looking at the pile that was her armor and weapons, "You have fine armor for one so young. Dragonscale is usually only seen being used by a dragonslayer. The same could be said for the bone sword you carry."

Lydia remained silent.

"I could use someone of your skill among my men," Borivik continued, reaching up to take the helmet from his head, revealing a face scarred by claws, "What do you say, little one? Spare yourself the misery and join us in the hunt."

Lydia snarled and spat at the man's face, "I've seen the way you people hunt!" She snapped, "Once I respected the Silver Hand because they destroyed feral beasts that killed wherever they went, but now you'll go after anyone with a werewolf in their family!" She sneered at the man as he growled at her, "You're nothing but cruel, faithless butchers!"

He rose and kicked her cage, toppling it over and knocking the wind out of her as she hit the ground. Borivik stood over her. "I'll make sure my men have plenty of fun with you."

"Boss, there's a couple of horses coming!" One of the warriors yelled.

Borivik turned, "Do they have the beast?"

"Big horse is dragging something, Sir."

Lydia grew cold, [No...they wouldn't...not to Jon!]

The horses thundered into the camp and were surrounded immediately. "UNCLE JAIME!" She heard Tommen cry out shrilly. Lydia turned herself over as best she could to see what was happening.

There was Jaime and Theon...and a heavily bleeding Jon. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Lydia screamed, "YOU'LL BURN FOR THIS KINGSLAYER! YOU'LL BURN!"

Jaime was doing his best to ignore the forlorn screams of the girl, and the laughter it brought from the Silver Hand warriors around them. His sword hand was itching to wet the new sword at his side. Theon looked at the men furiously as they surged around Jon's naked and beaten body. "Oi, you lot!" The Greyjoy snapped, "No touching the merchandise until after we get what we came for!"

Borivik shoved his way through his men, eyeing the Lannister warily, "That so, little man?" He asked, "And what's to stop us from just taking him?"

"I am," Jaime swung down, unfazed by the man's size. "The boy's you've taken happen to be nobility, you uneducated sod," he glared up at him, "One is a prince, and my own nephew, and the other is the son of a lord here in the North, but I'm sure you already know that." He said haughtily, "The deal was that we deliver Jon to you, and we be allowed to retrieve the children, and the girl."

"Don't forget the wolves," Theon said, "Lord Stark is furious that his prized direwolves were taken." It was a lie, of course, but if they loosed the wolves, it would be an even bloodbath.

As if reading his mind, Jon's beast slammed against the bars of his cage, snarling and snapping while Bran's beast howled.

Borivik chuckled, "You're a bold one," he said to the Lannister unimpressed. "But the lives of these three are well worth the price of one less werewolf, though my men will be sad to see the lassie go before they've had their fun." His men roared with laughter, "Perhaps you'd let her stay a bit for their sake?"

Jaime's answer was to unsheath his sword, "I don't think so," Borivik raised his brow at the man as he brandished his sword, "I know that we can't take all of you," he said as Theon drew his sword, "But I can promise you that we will take many of you with us before you kill us." His green eyes blazed with pure hatred for the man in front of him, "And I can also promise that you will be the first one to die."

Lydia was struggling against her bindings while they spoke, desperate to get free and see to Jon, but her hands ached for the tightness of the rope.

"Oi, quit moving around!" Hissed a gruff voice.

Lydia looked up to see a bushy black beard, and a short, broad man with a face nearly as fierce as a bulldog, "Who are you?"

"No time for that, lassie," he said, and showed her a knife in his hand, "Now hold still so I can cut you loose." Lydia nodded and allowed him to saw through her bindings. "No need to worry, either, that boy over there's faking it."

Lydia gasped lightly as she turned to see Jon's eyes open slightly, a dangerous red glow in them. "Oh thank Talos," she breathed out before looking at her would-be savior, "Can you free the wolves?"

"Not the boys?" He asked.

Lydia shook her head, "They're safe where they are for the moment. The wolves will protect them." She said. The man nodded and stood up to creep over to her lock, using the dagger to break it loose just as Jaime was drawing his sword in front of Borivik. Lydia saw that the man was very round for someone his size, and it was then that she realized what he was. "Are you a Dwemer?"

"Mountain Dwarf," he growled, "Now pipe down. Fun's about to start."

Lydia took his word for it and reached through the bars to grab her sword. And not a moment too soon as Jon sprang up from the ground, his form shifting and reshaping himself into the massive werewolf she knew.

The chains around his wrists snapped off as he grew, and then lunged for the nearest Silver Hand. Theon yelled in fright as his horse reared a the sight of the werewolf. Jaime didn't have time to be shocked over the sudden change as his horse bolted. His sword whistled through the air as Borivik backpedaled from him enough that the blade only cut through his armor instead of flesh. Lydia sprang from her cage to join in just as the Dwarf took a hefty warhammer from his back and smashed the lock on the cage holding Ghost and Summer off.

The two direwolves were furious and ran right into the ensuing battle, Ghost jumping and landing against the chest plate of one warrior to knock him to the ground and bit into his throat. Summer rammed his smaller frame into the legs of another before going for his face. Theon had jumped from his horse before it had bolted and was swinging furiously as a group of men crowded around him.

Jon was having none of it as his massive claws swiped part of the group aside to give the young Greyjoy room enough to fight before he grabbed one and bit down on his head, helmet and all. The Dwarf joined in on the fight a moment after he had freed the wolves, and smashed a man in the chest with his hammer before bringing his heel down on his throat and swinging at the head of another.

Jaime was pushing Borivik back, and Lydia could see why he was hailed as the best swordsman in Westeros. Borivik had nothing on him even as he got in a few swings of his axe. But unfortunately, Lydia couldn't allow that. Borivik belonged to her!

So she charged into the fight, cutting down anyone that got in her way as the presence of a loose werewolf cause utter chaos.

Jon roared angrily as a silver-steel sword cut his back skin, the blade burning the wound. He then whipped around with his claws hooked and drove them into the man's throat, ripping it out before lunging at another to grasp and snap his neck, the scent of blood in the air driving his wolf into a frenzy. Theon wasn't even aware of him anymore as he cut down another man, punched one in the face, and kicked a third in the cod.

"Duck, laddie!" Someone shouted from behind and he ducked down just as a sword swung at his head from behind. He stabbed his blade through his ribs and kicked him away. He looked briefly for his savior and found a squat man fighting alongside him.

"Thanks!"

The Dwarf grinned, "Buy us a round of drinks and we'll call it even!" Theon grinned at that and focused back on the fight.

Lydia was fighting her way toward Jaime and Borivik as more men were beginning to break away from Jon and help their leader, but Jaime seemed able to handle them as long as he kept the bigger man in sight. Then she reached them.

Her fury overtook her as she jumped up and slammed the handle of her sword against the side of his helmet, knocking clean off. "You wanted to have fun, didn't you?!" She screamed at the man, bringing her sword down on his left wrist, separating it from his arm. "Are you having fun, now?!

Borivik howled and rounded on her, forgetting about Jaime. That was a mistake. As he raised his remaining arm to bring the axe down on her, Jaime stepped in and brought his sword up, and sliced clean through the armor around his elbow. The axe hit the ground, and so did Borivik as Lydia drove her sword right into his crotch.

His screams reached a higher pitch. Even Jaime had to wince at that, but he could feel no pity for him.

"Oi, Lydia, catch!" Theon yelled and threw the sword that had been on Jaime's saddle at her.

She caught and unsheathed it one a single move before bringing across Borivik's throat. Red spilled down the front of his armor as he gasped and tried to breath, filling his lungs with blood before he fell forward at her feet.

Seeing their leader dead, the remaining warriors fled into the forest with Ghost and Summer hot on their heels until they were out of sight. Jon howled loudly after them, and was answered by the howls of other wolves before the forest came alive with more screams as his call brought wild wolves into the fray to finish off what was left of them.

ESV

Author's Note: Stopping it right here this time. A lot of you are probably going to find Jon agreeing to the torture to be stupid, but let's keep in mind that it was demanded, and it was to look, to the Silver Hand, believable. Hopefully it wasn't too much.

The aftermath of this chapter is going to be shown in the next, as well as meeting the Dwarf I introduced in this chapter. If ya wanna see that, then you know what to do.

Adios Amigos!