"It's a fucking dragon! The fucking death sorcerer has a fucking dragon!" Many of the villagers screamed as soon as they saw Nightfury, curled over my shoulders like a cat. They ran into their houses, panicking. Some of them fell to the ground, kicking and screaming as they hurriedly crawled back into their hovels and closed the door behind them. I heard them uttering prayers to nameless gods who'd never answer. And I heard many of them pleading with me not to kill or burn them. The most amusing bunch among them were the ones who called me a Targaryen, which – I suppose – was fair enough, since the only people who were associated with dragons was that family of white-haired inbreds.

Hence, the natural response was sheer bloody panic. I felt Nightfury's amusement through our link.

Fear. Good. Fear me! Mother! Look! They fear me!

"Guys, please Nightfury is... ugh... not immediately harmful as long as no one fucks around!" Hm... I might've made things worse. And now, the whole village looked as though it was deserted. The streets were empty. The people closed their windows as I passed and even the few dogs that were around had stopped barking. It was quiet and eerie. If I didn't know any better, then I might've honestly believed that the Wildlings succeeded in looting and sacking the village. The only entities of interest were my Wights, all of whom were kept dormant on the ground in an inanimate state, because I didn't trust my mental stability right now when I had a fire-breathing, nation-ending lizard on my shoulders.

Also, Nightfury seemed bigger now, compared to fifteen fucking minutes ago – not by much, but his growth rate is just fucking staggering.

Shrugging, I decided to ignore the peasants and made my way to Tamara's hovel, where I was greeted by the Wight I'd left in - Halga must've pushed it out. And when I entered, Halga, Tamara, and Lysa all turned to look at me, their eyes widening into saucers. And then all three of them turned to look at Nightfury, who regarded them with the same nonchalant disdain a human might have for an ant. I felt, through our connection, that the baby Fatalis, quite honestly, didn't give a shit about them; in fact, he didn't even think of them as living entities. In Nightfury's eyes, they were nothing more than food. The one thing that kept him from attacking and eating them was my instruction not to eat humans.

Otherwise, Nightfury was, more than likely, the single most powerful being on Planetos, except maybe if the fandom was right and that the Hightowers did have a Mech under that tower of theirs, or if Cthulhu was the drowned god, and whatever else might exist in the Lands of Always Winter. But, until that sort of shit came marching out, Nightfury was essentially the biggest fuck you on the entire planet. Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar could gang up on an adult Fatalis and all three of them would likely end up as black smears on the ground, despite the size difference.

Lysa fell to her knees, eyes wide with what seemed to be a combination of shock and despair – why she felt the latter, I didn't know. Maybe she thought I was a Targaryen, like the villagers did? No idea. I didn't like it, though.

I raised a hand and waved at them. "Hey, guys."

"Is that... a dragon?" Halga whispered, her eyes similarly wide with shock. But, there had to be something wrong with this girl, because I saw no fear in her, no hesitation or panic. There was only shock, awe, and wonder. "Jason... that's a fucking dragon on your shoulder."

Lysa and Tamara nodded slowly, before the healer just went and fell unconscious, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. It was Lysa Mormont, Lady of Bear Island, who spoke first, after gulping and clearing her throat and standing. Gotta hand it to her, the girl stood her ground and even had the balls to lock eyes with Nightfury, who snorted in her general direction. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "My lord Jason... wha-... what exactly do you plan on doing with that dragon?"

Ah, Halga must've told her my name. Well, that made things easier for the both of us, I guess, since I was rather awkward with introductions. I shrugged. "Lots of things, really. But, for now, Nightfury here is going to help me roast a bunch of Wildlings alive, especially the ones who've dragged the dignity of House Mormont into the mud. I'm going to kill them all and it'd be a civic duty at this point; these barbarians deserve to be annihilated for everything they've done."

In fact, it was still kind of early in the day and Bear Island, if I recall correctly, wasn't that big a place. I had my Wights, I had magic, and I had a fucking Elder Dragon who thought I was its mother; there's no possible way for me to lose unless I tripped on a rock and broke my head open or some other stupid shit like that. Or constipation... or diarrhea; people died from either of those and it was good to remember that this setting and the time period it was supposed to emulate really didn't have the best hygiene standards. A lot of the villagers thought Tamara was performing some sort of witchcraft when she made soap and bathed with it.

Yeah, fucking witchcraft.

Fucking soap.

Nah, I wasn't about to die from a bunch of stupid reasons. If I did, I'd jump straight into the void myself, because what the fuck.

"Lord Jason," Lysa Mormont began, steeling herself as she spoke. Though, I could see, quite obviously, that she was doing her best not to look at Nightfury. Her hands shook and she stood unsteadily. Still, she stood and held her head high. Adorable, but also respectable. "Bear Island is not rich in resources. And House Mormont is not a wealthy house. But, if you give me this boon, then I swear I will reward you with the most handsome gift I can possibly offer to a man of your... stature."

I wondered, just for a moment, if I wanted anything from her, aside from the prestige and influence she'd afford me by affiliating myself with House Mormont, and got nothing. She was right. House Mormont had a long and proud history, but there wasn't a single moment in that long history of theirs, wherein they were wealthy. So, there was nothing she could give me that I'd want. And so, I shrugged. "What I do, my lady, I do for your sake and for the sake of House Mormont and Bear Island – nothing more, nothing less. Not for the promise of power or reward – never that."

If she was a Lannister, then I might've just straight up asked for a fat sack of gold, but eh.

Lysa smiled and there was... something in her eyes that kind of made me feel icky, but whatever.

This place was just going to be a stepping stone, after all. The real shit would start when I finally wiggled my way into the mainland. "Ah, that reminds me; I never thought to ask you this, but... can you tell me the name of the king?"

Lysa blinked and shrugged. "King Daeron II Targaryen. You didn't know, Lord Jason?"

I... had no idea who Daeron II was. Fuck, what fucking time period was this, anyway? Still, the fact that the name rang no bells in my head probably meant that this was one of the more stable times in Westeros, when the Targaryens weren't batshit insane and burning everything and everyone around them. So, definitely not the Dance of Dragons era and definitely not Aegon's Conquest, but probably somewhere in the middle of the two? After all, the reaction the villagers had to Nightfury led me to the conclusion that the Age of Dragons was not a foregone thing, but maybe relatively recent. Though, I don't remember any Targaryen Dragonrider ever coming to Bear Island at any point in any of the books. Honestly, this place was as isolated and as unimportant as a place could be.

I was willing to bet my right nut that more important things were probably happening in fucking Lorath – of all places – right at this moment. But, whatever, me being dropped here was a boon, if nothing else, because it meant that no one important was going to notice my abilities for a while and, by the time the Targaryens did notice, then Nightfury was going to be big enough to roast entire cities. So, hurray.

Anyway, to summarize, since I had no idea who Daeron II was, this probably wasn't a very tumultuous time period. So, I could maybe expect to lay low for a bit if I played my cards right.

"I've been traveling for quite some time. The name of the king slipped my mind at some point."

"Oh," Came Lysa's reply. She shifted awkwardly. "So, what now, Lord Jason?"

"Now, I'm gonna need someone to point me in the direction of Mormont Keep, my lady." I answered, smiling. "I'm going to gather my forces, prep them on the way, and then I'm going to murder every single fucking Wildling I come across. I've stopped caring about them. And then, I'm going to liberate the seat of House Mormont. When I'm done, I'll simply return."

Absently, I sent a mental command to every single Wight in my undead network and made them all gather right outside the village, Undead Bear included. My first order of business was to use [Decompose] on all of them, just because a skeleton army was way cooler than a zombie army. And because I wanted to avoid the inevitable stench that came with natural decomposition.

"You've no need for other men, my lord?" Lysa Mormont asked. And, already, I figured out how this was supposed to go in the original timeline. Lysa Mormont would've escaped as normal. She would've found this village and what few survivors remained from the Wildling raid. And then, she would've united the villagers, one by one, forming her own army; she would've raged against the Wildlings in a bloody struggle that, considering the presence of the Mormonts in the main book, must've been successful. It was either that or she somehow made the journey to Winterfell to ask the Starks for help, who then sailed with her back to Bear Island with like ten thousand soldiers to cleanse the Wildlings with and solidify her rule. Both were possible, though the former was considerably more epic. Either way, House Mormont survived, even without my help.

I shook my head. "I have all the power I need, Lady Mormont. Don't worry about me – about anything. Just stay here and rest and wait for my return."

I then turned my attention to Halga, since Tamara was still out cold on the damn floor. "Halga, do you know the way to Mormont Keep?"

"Aye," Halga nodded, walking towards me. "It's north of here. We'll have to pass by Blackrock Keep to get there – that's our liege's home, by the way. I'm rather certain it's crawling with Wildlings. After that, it's a straight path through the island's center and onto Mormont Keep."

"You're coming with me?" I asked. "What about your injuries? Honestly, Halga, you're having trouble just walking."

"What – I should just stay here and miss the show?" Halga snorted. "I don't care if I'm going to end up losing both legs, by the Old Gods and the new, I am going to watch these barbarians suffer by your magic and by the fire of your... err... dragon."

"Eh, fair enough." I said, turning back to Lysa Mormont. "Well, then, my lady, it's best if I made my to Mormont Keep immediately, while the sun is still up. I would not want to wait until dark, when the Wildlings might make their move. I'm sure a lot of them are looking for you. Right now, the last thing they're expecting is a brazen attack."

And they're definitely not expecting Wights all the way out here, which may help a lot with the fear factor as, if my knowledge of ASOIAF lore was correct, the Wildlings were deathly afraid of the Others. If they started thinking I was one, then I didn't mind.

Lysa Mormont stepped forward and, to my utter surprise, planted a kiss on my cheek. Nightfury did not respond to her presence. The Fatalis barely even noticed Lysa's presence to begin with. "Good luck, Lord Jason. I eagerly await your return."

I reached up and rubbed the spot on my left cheek that met her soft lips. Fuck. She better not reward me with what I just realized she was planning to reward me with. I was an adult, damn it, and Lysa was just barely old enough to graduate high school. Or, I might've simply misunderstood her intent and it might've entirely been a friendly gesture, in which case... cool. No problem.

I nodded at her, before turning away, Halga following after me. Desolation greeted me, an eerie silence that spoke only of the fear the villagers had for me. But, once again, fair enough.

I wasted no time, then, as I walked right out of the village, where my Wight army awaited me. And, one by one, I used [Decompose] on my cute little undead minions and watched as their dead flesh and pale skin melted right off of their bones and fell right onto the ground. Eww, but also pretty cool. In that moment, I felt like Arthas, the motherfucking Lich King.