The Song of the Bastard Wolf and the Dragon Princess

by Icedragon7

Jon Snow would not be the first to be both the blood of the Kings of Winter and the Dragonlords, or even be the first to bear the name Jon Snow. Nearly 150 years before the War of the Five Kings and War for the Dawn there was another Jon Snow, one who much like his namesake was hungry for glory and honor. A sad tale of chivalry & glory, of love & friendship, and death & betrayal.

3. Battle of the Bloodyway

157 AC

The march south was slow, though that was to be expected of the largest army that the continent had ever seen. At least he had good company though. Daeron was true to his word and Jon and his father were by the Young Dragon's side on the march. Jon did not know what to expect of the king when they first met in the yard of the Red Keep, but the king proved not to be so different from himself. They were of age after all and like all dreamed of glory and honor. Despite his birth Jon became quick friends with Daeron. Daeron had also become fast friends with Jon's friends. It must have made a queer sight, The Blood of Old Valyria surronded by Northmen who japed with each other as if they had been friends for years. The only other southerners among their company was the Kingsguard, and the knight that spent the most time with the King and their newfound fellowship was Prince Ameon, who became as fast a friend as his cousin and King did.

Daeron was speaking to Lord Royce Baratheon who was granted the honor of commanding the vanguard on their march through the Boneway. Theo had elected to join the outriders alongside some of his elder cousins and the clans of the Rills. Alaric and Beron were making bets on who would slay more men in their first battle. Jon suspected that the Boneway would earn its name considering it was a fairly narrow mountain pass and force that placed itself at a narrow point could throw back ten times as many men. While Jon was no craven, he did not want to throw away lives needlessly. Alas, he was not in command of this army, so he could do nothing about it. To avoid the thought of the bloody work that was soon to happen, he thought of his last days at the Red Keep getting to know Daeron and spending time with Daena, though now with a Kingsguard escort. The kiss on the cheek and her favor that Daena secretly gave him in the godswood at midnight the night before Jon left with the army. Jon still had no inkling as to why the princess took a liking to him, but he enjoyed her friendship all the same. She was kind, charming, and as brave as one can be.

He was pulled out of his musing by Daeron pulling up beside him, and their friends. Exchanging proper greetings.

Daeron said, "I just received word from the outriders, a Dornish host has been seen in the Boneway. As far as they can tell it is made up of the lords of the Boneway and Essosi sellswords. They say it's hard to estimate the size of the host but I would wager it is close to 10,000 with the inclusion of the Essosi sellswords. Whose number likely includes a large number of Myrish crossbowmen to deal with our heavy infantry and cavalry. From what they tell me, The Dornishmen hold one of the narrowest parts of the pass and there is a rise between the traversable road and the sheer cliff and the mountain side where the Dornish have a tower prepared positions to fire arrows, bolts and javelins from. An assault there will be bloody, but we will need to do it anyway".

Jon said, "Butcher's work, your grace. There must be another way".

Daeron said, "I know Jon, but this is the only way. The outriders including your fellow Northmen, the Rsywells and their vassal clans have found no other road to outflank them. We have the larger host and far more heavy infantry to be able to resist their arrow and bolt fire, so casualties will not be as bad as they could ''.

Jon said, "Your grace, there must be another way, perhaps if we had more time to scout…"

Daeron cut him off and said, "Jon we have a tight timetable to keep. Lord Lyonel Tyrell and Lord Arthur Tarly are leading the Reachmen through the Prince's Pass and they will be followed by Westermen as Rivermen and Valemen follow our host once we break through. Lord Alyn is leading the Royal Fleet and Iron Fleet up the Greenblood to split the Dornish in half while the fleets of the Arbor and Lannisport are blockading the entire coast to prevent any reinforcements from Essos".

Daeron sighed before saying, " The men are tried from the March and I have to reorganize the host for the assault so I will delay the attack for two days, but I can't any longer as that tower house guards one of the few places on the Boneway that can let an army camp with easy access to fresh water and fodder. Our water supplies can last at most four days so the assault must come on the third day. If the Outriders have not found another path then we must launch the assault".

Jon said, "Thank you, your grace".

Daeron said, "Now I have to go see the Royal engineer if he thinks it will be possible to use the latter to assault the hill or would it be better to try and suppress them with arrow and scorpion bolts".

Daeron spurred his horse away to accomplish his task, and with his leave Alaric and Beron ride closer to Jon.

Alaric said, "You asked a lot Jon, The Rsywell riders are the best in the North especially when it comes to scouting, you will be hard pressed to find something they missed".

Beron said, "You got lucky in finding royal favor, but this might be too bold Jon. Those highborn southerners only care if you're trueborn and anointed in their seven oils. If you kept the Seven and were a knight they may heed your counsel, they do not recognize that you are the blood of the Kings of Winter, the grandson of the Lord of Winterfell, and son of his heir. So what is your plan, Jon"?

Jon said, "I do not know yet. I will ask my father for riders to help me search for another way on the morrow as it is too late to send men out now as the sun is setting".

The making of camp was uneventful and Jon went to sleep worried about the coming slaughter and made a silent prayer to the old gods asking for aid in finding another way. He didn't even have his faithful wolf with him. Wraith had decided to go hunting that night. It was just as well, one of them should be able to taste victory in their maw.

The night was full of the scent of man. The dry hot air carried the scent of smoke and large packs of men marking their territory, up the mountain and into the trail they were on. He trotted along with his elder red packmate up the trail sniffing after a mountain goat that used this trail. The largest tracks were deeper than the usual goats that men kept, only the great mountain goats of home were larger. They tracked the trail for hours. Eventually they found them on a plateau overlooking the pass and another trail descending down the mountain. The herd of goats had not detected him, even as he got within pouncing distance. He spotted the largest goat and charged. The goat didn't get far, before his maw clamped down around the goat's hind leg. Bone crunched and blood gushed as he ripped and tore , staining the white fur around his maw. The rest of the goats had long fled. The crippled goat tried to limp away, but his elder packmate ended it by crushing the goat's throat and tore out its throat unleashing an even larger gush of red blood. They gorged themselves on the meat and organs. The sun rose above the Red Mountains as had finished eating his fill. He walked over to the edge of the ridge and saw the valley and mountain pass below him. The goat tracks continued following a mountain stream, down to the pass below. There sat another great pack of men filling the dawn air with their scent. Smoke and the scent of roasting meat wafted through the air, though they smelled strange, the scent had an almost fiery burn to it and had strange skins on their wooden fangs. He let out a silent growl. These were not his pack of men.

Jon awoke in a cold sweat after jumping up from his dream, he opened his tongue to try and get rid of the taste of the coppery blood. When it did not work he grabbed a water skin that had been hanging on the back of a chair and gulped it down to wash out the taste.

A voice said, "So you have finally awakened"?

He knew that voice well and he turned towards it. There he saw his father in fine silks and his doublet had the Stark sigil embroidered across his chest. With a heavy silver chain with a large direwolf pendant made of a silver wolf on a field of white gold, with a piece of amber for eyes and chips of ivory for the fangs, and a chip of garnet for the tongue. His white gold signet ring engraved with the direwolf of Stark was ever present. The gilded hilt of his father's arming sword was visible despite his father half turned away from him. These were his father's court clothes that he had made for royal audiences and meetings with the other great lords and their heirs.

Jon said, "Yes father. I apologize for sleeping past dawn".

His father looked at him knowing there was more behind just being tired.

Jon broke under his father's look and said, "Alright, I had another wolf dream".

His father said, "I know you had a wolf dream. I was beside you in Garmyr. You have to know how to leave Wraith on command, not just when your body decides to wake. You missed breaking your fast with Daeron and he asked if you were ill. You are lucky he is a trusting King, and bought my excuse that you had stayed awake late last night to organize further scouting".

Jon said, "I know father, but I saw the Dornish host. The trail we were on leads behind the Dornish host. We could send cavalry to outflank the Dornishmen and smash their lines as they are distracted by the infantry or strike them in the predawn hours".

His father said, "We will need to send men to confirm it as we can't tell them that we are wargs and saw the trail while in the skins of our wolves. If the trail truly leads behind the Dornish host, it will save countless men from a frontal assault and ensure a decisive victory".

His father tossed him a bag, which Jon opened and saw that it contained a cured sausage encrusted with what looked like black pepper, some hard cheese, and a flatbread.

His father said, "His grace sent food from his personal stores and commended your diligence, and asked for your presence after you have eaten and asked for any leads. I will instruct outriders to scout the trail, so we'll likely have the truth on the morrow. There is also a cup of vinegar and another of mulled cinnamon tea, for after you eat. I will not have these southron lords find any fault with you".

Jon said, "Yes father, and thank you father".

His father said, "Get dressed and eat, you have lingered too long in this tent. Even your friends are getting curious".

Jon said, "Yes father".

Jon quickly dressed in the fine linen that his grandfather had gifted him prior to their march south. It was finely made, but not so fine to give offense to southron lords. His only ornamentation was a broach made of silver with a white gold wolf ornamented in a similar fashion to his father save for the eyes made of chips of garnet instead of amber and chips of garnet creating a bar sinister around the white gold wolf. He tied his sword belt to his hip, the fine black leather was studded with polished steel and bronze studs. He drew his sword to ensure the blade and bronze fittings were well oiled and polished. The sword had been made by the greatest swordsmith in the North as a gift for his Lord Grandfather at the birth of his firstborn son and heir. His father preferred a greatsword in battle and kept an arming sword on his person as required by his status, thus when the day before they left for war his father had gifted it to him. It was a bastard sword and every inch of the sword was masterfully crafted so it was as appropriate to wear at court and ceremony as it was to cut men down on the field of battle. The crossguard was made of steel but had bronze fittings wrapped around the steel, both of which were engraved with runes of the first men. The pommel was much the same but shaped like a snarling wolf with amber set for eyes. The black leather on the grift was finely made and cared for, it was soft and well suited for his hands. He slid the blade back into its scabbard and prepared to break his fast.

The sausage had a burning sensation, but was delicious. He had always loved black peppercorns, so when it burned, he found that he loved it. The hard cheese had a salty and nutty flavor, but complemented the sausage. The bread was made of fine white flour. It was plain in comparison, but Jon could tell that it was so that it did not distract from the cured sausage and hard cheese. After he had finished, he rinsed his mouth with vinegar and washed it out with water. He left the pavilion with his cup of cinnamon tea and drinking as he took stock of the section of the army dedicated to House Stark, its retainers, and their levies.

After he had finished he went to find Daeron per his request. When he arrived at Daeron's pavilion, there were some retainers and servants running in and out, along with the Kingsguard guarding him; there were no high lords with him. Daeron was alone with a maester going over The various Dornish Wars and the wars between the old Storm Kings and Dornish. Ser Olyar Oakheart recognized and announced him to the King.

Jon knelt on the myrish carpet on the floor of the royal pavilion and said, "Your Grace, you summoned me"?

Daeron rose from his table and books and said as he held out an arm, "Rise Jon. I have told you a million times, my friends do not need to kneel before me or call me by my title. When we were not at court or those annoyingly prickly high lords.".

Jon rose and stepped forward to accept Daeron's outstretched arm and the two clasped each other's arms and clapped each other's back as they embraced as brothers in all but blood. Jon said as they released each other, "My apologies, old habits die hard. My stepmother always treated me as if I were her own blood, but I was keenly aware that it was a privilege thanks to my Lord Grandfather and his second wife".

Daeron said, "I heard many tales of "Black Alys", I can see how fiercely clever people like your grandfather and Lady Alys can dissuade any naive ideas".

Jon said, "That sums it up fairly well".

Daeron laughed before asking, "Do you have any leads yet"?

Jon said, "Yes. I have found a goat track and by my lord father's leave, I have sent outriders to see if we can outflank the Dornishmen".

Daeron said, "Excellent, I just finished speaking with the royal engineer and the rest of the High lords, discussing the battle plan. While the Lords do acknowledge the likelihood of severe casualties on both sides, they see it as the only course. The Stormlords are particularly keen on bloodying the Dornish as much as possible given their long history of war against them. Though being able to outflank the Dornish will be crucial to saving many lives, even the Dornish will take fewer losses as when they see they have been outflanked they will have to break rather than fight a doomed battle of attrition as they are pressed on both sides".

Jon said, "That is an excellent plan, and a good show of how you rather not put every single Dornishman to the sword, but if we attack as the Stormlanders make their assault we will still take heavy losses particularly among the nobility and professional soldiers among the Stormlanders. It would be better to launch the cavalry attack in the predawn hours so that the Dornish cannot be organized in any way to resist us, and they will throw down their arms. Particularly the sellswords. Your ancestor Aegon failed in taking Dorne since the Dornish never offered battle, thus, we need to ensure we have as many men as possible so that when we do have to break apart the army into smaller formations they can remain still effective at capturing and holding territory. We can take all the castles and towns we want, but it is pointless if we cannot spare the men to garrison and hold off rebels from those castles and towns. By not slaughtering them all, it will also show that you are a benevolent King".

Daern said, "That is an excellent battle plan and strategy for the campaign. I am no Maegor the Cruel or Ameond the kinslayer, I will not be known as a bloodthirsty villain".

Jon said, "Thank the gods, otherwise I would have lost my head after Daena dragged me into the city with her".

Daeron laughed and replied, "That is true, Daena is untamable as a dragon".

Jon said with a smile, "In my family, we would say she has the Wolf's Blood. Meaning that she is wild, willful, and of course untamable".

Daeron said, "Wel, she certainly does have the Blood of the Dragon. Though thanks to the gods that she doesn't want to marry me".

Jon raised an eyebrow at that and said, "You don't want to marry her"?

Daeron said, "No. You may think it strange of me, given my House, but I only love her like you do your sisters".

Jon said, "That I didn't know. Does Daena feel the same"

Daeron said, "Of course. She feels the same as I do". Daeron smirked before continuing, " Besides I think she fancies another".

Jon's face became as red as the red dragon of House Targaryen. He prayed that Daeron did not know about the kiss Daena had given him the night before they marched. He said, "Your Grace"?

Daeron said, "I am teasing you Jon, we both know you and Daena never engaged in anything improper, but the court whispers and gossips like old women. Truth be told, she told me likes a certain someone, but she refuses to name him just yet and she will only name when he asks for her hand".

Jon thought to himself, "Seven Hells, of course Daeron didn't know. I still have my manhood and I am not chained to a ship heading to Eastwatch".

Jon asked, "Who do you think it is"?

Daeron shrugged, "I do not know, some gallant handsome knight that caught her eye. I know despite her only recently being flowered, that many are paying court to her. She is a Princess of the Blood afterall and the eldest of my three sisters. Do you mind if we change the subject, my sister's antics are not something that I care not to think or talk about. The only exception is when I am teasing you as you turn a hilarious shade of red. Besides Alaric asked me to do that as repayment for the japes at his expense due to the incident with your aunts".

Jon chuckled and said, "Of course, that perverted fool would do that. So who are you thinking of making your queen"?

Daeron said, "Perhaps a Dornish maiden such as a Dayne of Starfall, Fowler, or a Yronwood. Or even a bride from the Free Cities. I will need someone who can ensure easy passage to Dorne for a host in case they rebel".

Jon said, "That is a sensible choice".

Daeron said, "Better sensible than foolhardy like my great-grandfather".

Jon replied, "True".

It would take a full day for the outriders Jon had sent to confirm what Jon saw and see if there was enough ground to form back up and launch their offensive. When the lords heard the report many saw the sense in it, but many more grumbled at the fact that a bastard like him was given such honors and trust by the King. They may not have told him to his face, but he saw in their eyes or heard them whisper it when they did not know he was nearby. He suspected that it was due to his father and Daeron's friendship. Few lords or knights would want to try to raise the heir to Winterfell's wrath by insulting his son or stir the Dragon's displeasure by snubbing the King's friend.

Even the most prickly lords saw the merit of the plan and gave their consent. Daeron organized a host of 3,000 lancers and Knights, and 500 light cavalry and horse archers from the Rills. The goat trail required them to dismount and lead their horses. Which slowed them down but they reached the staging area in time. In the black of the night they armed and armored themselves for battle. Jon saw his friends armor themselves or in the case of Beron armored his brother before armoring himself. Alaric wore a coat of mail and coat of plates cuirass over his gambeson and black surcoat with the White sunburst of House Karstark, with a flat top greathelm. Wraith and Garmyr, had stalked off towards the horse lines to spook the horses and eliminate the sentries.

They formed up awaiting the signal to charge. The line was nearly deathly silent with the occasional neigh from a horse. The seconds seemed to drag on for eternity. Then it happened, the cry of horses was followed by the scream of men, and finally the howl of Garmyr.

Daeron rode forward in his armor as black as the moonless midnight, save for the Red three headed dragon on his surcoat and he yelled, "MEN OF WESTROS! TODAY IS THE DAY WE FINISH THE CONQUEST! TODAY WE DO WHAT THE CONQUEROR COULD NOT! TODAY IS THE FIRST STEP IN CONQUERING DORNE! NOW MEN, CHARGE!"

The speech was answered by the cheers of the men and the blasts of war horns and trumpets. The men spurred their horses forward trotting down the hill, slowing building up speed. As they rode down the mountainside the gallop of the horses soon became like the roar of thunder as they charged down the mountainside. The warm desert air rushed past his steel helm and the thundering hooves filled the air with the battle cries of "FIRE AND BLOOD!", "WINTERFELL!" "RIGHTEOUS IN WRATH!", "WHITE HARBOR!" and half a hundred different battle cries from the various knights, nobles, and sworn swords.

As they approached the camp one wing went to strike the Myrish crossbowmen and Dornish archers holding the rise at the base of the tower, while the main wings struck the camp itself.

As they neared the camp the lances lowered as one. Jon took a deep breath, one that could be the last that he would ever take as he couched his lance and searched for a target.

They struck like a bolt of lightning with the Dornish in complete chaos and confusion from their own horses running through the camp and the iron fist of the Northerner and Targaryen heavy cavalry. He saw a Dornishman in a knight's armor and a red hawk backed by a field on his surcoat, try to hold his ground with poleaxe in hand, but he was too slow and the crash of Jon's lance and the man's chest along with the sound of countless others being runned through sounded like the roar of thunder. The lance went through the man's armor and out the other side. Jon quickly released his hold on the lance and drew his sword.

Sword drawn he slashed at any man that came before him. Some stood their ground and tried to slay him with a spear or ax. But he was at full charge and more often than not they missed. The few times their blows were true, they struck his armor or the barding of his mount and glanced off.

He looked to his right and saw Ameon clad all in white cut through even knights in mail and coat of plates as easily as if they wore nothing with Dark Sister. He then looked to his left and saw Daeron do much the same with Blackfyre. Jon could not find his father or his other friends in the chaos of battle.

The first lordly tent they came across had a foot being bit by a black serpent on a field of yellow. Two dozen riders clad in mail came out to meet them. Half had surcoats emblazoned with the same sigil.

They met they meant the weak counter charge. While the second and third lines flowed past them. Their brothers in arms knew their mission. To keep riding and make as much chaos and slay as many as they could so the Dornish host would break.

Jon engaged the knight with a blue seven pointed star on his surcoat. The knight came at him with a flanged mace and the knight swung it at Jon's head. Jon took the blow on his shield and riposted with his own blade. The knight shifted his seat to avoid the blade striking his own head, unarmored due to the haste caused by the battle. They traded a flurry of blows before Jon shifted his horse just out of the Knight's reach as the knight swung. The knight overextended the blow. Jon quickly closed the distance, raising the sword he swung it with all the strength a single arm could give. The sword bit through the knight's necks, nearly decapitating him. Jon drew the sword out of the knight's neck and blood spouted like a fountain from the mortal wound as the knight fell from his saddle. Jon looked to his right again and saw Prince Ameon cut down a fourth man in the lordly colors, though his armor was finer than the others. Ameon cut off the man's sword hand and then cut the lord's head off, Dark sister cutting through mail, cloth, meat, and bone as if they were butter. He turned to his left and saw Daeon cutting down another knight in the lordly colors along with two dead household knights.

Jon spurred his horse forward. The battle was not yet over.

Jon kept cutting Dornishmen down left and right, as they tried to make any sort of formation to defend themselves. Jon thought to himself, "Damn, why couldn't they just throw down their arms and yield. The battle is lost for them".

He would cut down a few more knights and men-at-arms who rode against them but they were nowhere near as skilled as the knight of the Blue Star. The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos filled with the smell of blood & smoke, the screams of the dead and dying, and men fighting with all their strengths in dances of death. They came up on the central square of pavilions and carried the banner of a black portcullis on a pale yellow field. He saw the white sunburst of Karstark, along with a few other Northern sigils who were engaged in the melee. He spurred his horse faster to join the there were numerous dead men who Jon knew had been a part of their host.

His sword clashed with a man wearing the same sigil as on the banner, though the colors were reversed. "A bastard", Jon thought to himself. A few exchanges later Jon could tell that this man was more skilled than the Knight of the Blue Star that he had slain. He increased the tempo of his strikes and parries, seeking to overwhelm the knight and force the knight to make a mistake. The knight matched him.

The knight called out to him and said with an exhausted voice , "Well fought bastard"!

Jon breathing hard as well said, "You as well, how did you know I was a bastard as well"?

The knight said with a smile breaking out on his sweat drenched face visible through the mail aventail, "I can always tell when I face a bastard, none are as vicious a swordsman as a bastard who needs to prove his worth, but alas it is time for a bastard to die".

Jon said, "Aye, a bastard will die today. But not the Bastard of Winterfell".

They joined in battle again, engaging in a dance of swords and death. With the ring of their swords creating the great song of death that was as old as Man. Jon took many blows that came as swift as the wind, but Jon's blows were as ferocious as a direwolf. Jon's sword stuck the older bastard's ribs with a powerful chop. The Dornish bastard's armor saved him though, and he riposted and struck Jon's helm, ringing Jon's head like the bells of a Sept. Jon was driven back and the Dornishman had the advantage and pressed him hard. If it wasn't for the better armor that he had, Jon might have been slain then and there.

Jon quickly spurred his horse into kicking with its forelegs. The first kick took the knight on his shield cracking the wood and the second struck the knight's face, the mail aventail doing nothing against the mighty kick of a warhorse. The Knight was dazed and bloodied, and his helm knocked clean off. Jon sent his blade into an overhand chop and cleaved straight through the padded coif and skull of the Dornishman.

Jon looked around to search out his next foe and cutting down levied guardsmen that came at him as if they were flies. That was when he saw it. A big burly man clan in the lordly colors fighting Alaric on foot. Alaric hacking and slashing at the Dornish lord with his sword, while his battered shield breaking under the counter attacks of the Dornishman's two handed warhammer. The last attack made Alaric's shield useless, causing Alaric to toss it to the ground. Alaric came out the lord with the sword hoping to overwhelm him in a quick flury, but that was a mistake. The Dornish lord parried the sword strike and riposted with a powerful strike from the warhammer that rang Alaric head's for all to hear, swept his feet from under him and then with a powerful two handed swing drove the spike through Alaric's helm.

Jon yelled, "NO!"

The lord turned to see Jon spur his horse to a full gallop and he swung his blade at the Dornish lord, to which the lord parried and swung the spike of his warhammer into the belly of Jon's mount. Tearing it open. Jon was tossed from his horse but rolled into the fall. Saving himself from injury.

Jon looked back at the Dornish Lord. The lord stood proud. Jon could not see his face due to the great helm the lord wore. Though Jon swore the stylized black iron metalwork that resembled a portcullis looked as if it were a cruel smile and was laughing at him. Jon looked for his sword and saw it lay between him and the Dornish Lord. Jon raced toward it. The Lord did the same, intending to kill Jon before he could rearm himself. The Lord swung his warhammer in a high arc, but Jon angled his shield to parry it to his left rather than take the blow head on. In one swift motion he grabbed his sword and swung it into the Dornish Lord. The sword connected hard. But the lord's plated mail armor saved him. The lord stepped back to gain distance. Jon attempted to press the advantage and not let him get farther. Being forced to rely on static blocks Jon pressed him back.

But it had been a trap. The Dornish lord counters by thrusting the heavy iron spike acting as a counterweight at Jon's neck. Jon ducked to avoid the thrust but it off balanced him and the Dornish lord came at Jon like a rockslide. Hammering him, but all he could do was take the blows on his shield. Jon angled his shield so as to deflect the hammer or spike away, but the lord of portucalises would just correct by thrusting the heavy iron spike at Jon.

Jon's shield soon became a shattered mess and he tossed it to the ground. Taking his sword in both hands. Jon prayed a silent prayer, "Old Gods of the North, give me the strength to avenge my friend".

The Dornish lord spoke, "You are better than the knight of the white sun, was he kin to you? If not it was foolish of you to try and avenge him. He was a boy pretending to be a man. You had potential, but you are a hundred years too early to be challenging me. Men know me as Lord Arnold Yronwood of Yronwood, The Bloodroyal, Warden of the Stone Way and the Stranger's Hammer, but you will know me as your doom".

Jon gave a reply, "The man you slew was Alaric Karstark, second son of Lord Jonnel Karstark of the Karhold. He was my kinsmen and one of my closest friends. I am Jon Snow, son of Rickon Stark heir to Winterfell, and grandson of Lord Cregan Stark, the Old Wolf of the North. We have been the Kings of Winter for nearly 8,000 years. We have beaten the Andals and your New Gods for millenia, we have even raided the shores of Andalos. You claim to be the hammer of the god of death, but we Starks have beaten death before",

Jon moved forward like a Direwolf fighting a shadowcat over a carcass. They came together in almost blindly fast flurries of cut, parry, chop, evade, riposte, bock, and thrust. Jon fought the so-called Stranger's Hammer for what seemed like an eternity. Neither one of them, willing to give any more ground. Jon fought like a man possessed, holding nothing back. The edges of his vision were going black, all he saw was the sunlight reflecting off the blood and steel on his sword, and the man he was going to kill. Jon successfully struck with a powerful two handed strike on Lord Yronwood's helm. Lord Yronwood was dazed for a brief second, and Jon pressed his attack to finish off the supposed Bloodroyal. But it was a trap. The old lord must have been as tough as ironwood and a seasoned veteran of hundreds of battles and duels. Yronwood counters with a swing of a hammer and Jon catches sight of it too late to fully dodge, the hammer striking the back of his helm. His body went limp, everything was going black. Just before he hit the ground and the blackness took his entire vision. The smell of man's blood and the scream of the dead and dying became ever stronger.

He was running to his other self, his man self was filled with rage and sorrow for one of his pack brothers. His man self's sire and the sire's wolf came running after him on both hoof and paw. He had to get there quickly. To save his man self. When he finally saw himself, the man of iron and pale yellow stood above his body and iron . He pounced at the man. His maw clamped down on the man's arm, mail and all. He bit down with all of his strength, the sound of metal crunching and of bone cracking filled his ears. He tore with all his might at the man's arm. The man screamed out in pain, as part of his arm was torn off. A bloody stump at the joint was all that was left of his arm. The man dropped a big iron and wood claw, and took another iron claw that was long and sharp and came toward him.

He could see more men coming to the aid of the bleeding prey. Men in packs are dangerous, but the Lone wolf dies, and the pack survives. He would not leave his pack. He let a silent growl as blood dripped from his bloody maw. Then he heard his other packmates. Garmyr came first. Fangs bared, and growled loudly to ward off the other men. Their fear filled his nose, and took a place next to Garmyr. Then came Garmyr's man self. The scent of rage, and a father's vengeance filled his snout next. He was armed with an even larger iron claw that held in bold hands.

He said, "Stay away from my son! Whichever man did this I will cut out his entrails and give them to the gods as a sacrifice!"

He moved forward to point with his snout to the wounded prey that hurt his other self.

Rickon said, "It seems you are the Dornish Bastard who did this. You will meet the gods soon".

Garmyr's man self went after him with the full fury of a direwolf, while Garmyr and Wraith went after the others. Though he never went far from his wounded self.

The sun continued to rise as men fell around them. His white fur now stained red with the blood of men. Torn throats and limbs were strewn around him and Garmyr, while heads rollings and spilled guts surrounded Garmyr's other self. The sun was nearing its apex, when a friendly scenet arrived. It was the packmate of the female pup with fur like moonlight.

The man said, "Lord Rickon! Lord Rickon! The battle is over".

Garmyr's other self said as he dropped his iron claw, "But my son".

The man said, "I'll send my own maesters to tend him. I am certain they can heal him, the gods cannot let his saga here".

Garmyr's other self said, "Fine, just save my son".

The man in black motioned for men to help him left his other self. He eyed them warrily, in case they hurt his other self. They placed him on a skin between saplings and carried him back to their lair. He followed them, never daring to leave his other self again. The Lone Wolf dies and Pack survives.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I had to finish my finals. multiple essays all due at once are not fun. The Song of Councils and King will be placed on a lengthy but temporary hiatus. As to continue the plot and close a potential plot hole, it will spoil the plot of this fic. I may throw in a short Stannis chapter (likely a page or two according to my word processor if not shorter), as he is the only POV that won't advance the plot but can give furth insight on his motivations and plans. I may include some more of my one shot or give it another chapter to get more variety. So don't worry, the only fic that is truly abandoned is Imperfect Reflection, my ASOIAF fics will keep being updated.