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Running inside the Ten Towers, I grunted as Gaelithox's head suddenly pushed me to the side, the bony spikes almost tearing into my skin as I felt the impact. Grunting as my shoulder slammed into the wall, I turned towards the dragon, only to gulp as I saw the macabre, on-par-for-Game of Thrones sight.
The fiery dragon's head was looming above me, blood dripping from his maw…while intestines and organs spilled out on the ground from the lower half of the man he had just eaten. "Thanks," I grunted, using what little strength I had left in my body to pull myself up, "But I don't think you will be able to enter the Keep and move about freely, or at least, not from here."
He rumbled at that, his tail whipping across the stone walls behind him, and as the bits and pieces of the structure fell off to the ground, I got a sense of smugness and satisfaction through the bond between us. "No, you can't," I shook my head, crossing my arms and somehow managing to find the tone of a disapproving parent, "That will make the whole Keep fall upon us if you keep breaking away the walls."
He whined. Gaelithox, the grumpiest, laziest, and the most hardheaded of the three…fucking whined. His golden-orange eyes blinked at me as he lowered his head to the ground, little warbles coming from his chest as he lightly pushed against my legs.
"No means no, Gaelithox, "I continued, turning around and making my deeper into the Ten Towers, "If you are so insistent on coming inside, then find an entrance that won't turn these walls into our tomb."
He puffed out hot air on my face at that and moved back, and I got the impression that he was sulking. Shaking my head at the thought of Dragons undergoing puberty, I clenched the fingers of my sword hand, feeling the way my ring finger throbbed with pain due to having struck the wall at an angle when Gaelthox pushed me. It would work, for now.
I trudged along the walls, eyes peeled and ears open for even the minutest of shuffles or rustling, not wanting to get another surprise gift like the one that had awaited me at the Portcullis. A quiet groan caught my attention, the sound coming from the room to my right, and with my blade ready to impale anything, I slowly opened the door, wincing at the creaking noise it gave off.
"Whu- Who's there?" someone groaned from within, and even in the dimness of the room, I could see the seemingly dead body propped against the wall. The smell of burnt flesh invaded my nose, making me gag momentarily before I managed to get my throat in control. "Reiga, is that ye mate? Reig-fuck!"
His questions devolved into a series of coughs as I finally properly saw him. I actually blinked in surprise when I saw him, because how he was alive…I had no idea. His entire right arm was nothing but a thin, blackened stringy stub, the entire limb somehow burned off, and below that, his torso was also sporting some nasty burns, boils, and other things popping over his skin and it flaked off.
"What happened to you?" I asked, taking in the reddened skin and the slight burning on his leg, "Were you outside of the castle, fighting against the Dragons?"
"Dragons…dragons," he murmured, eyes blinking weakly as his head lolled, the man obviously close to succumbing to his injuries, "Aye. fought dragon alright. Tall, blonde. Tits the size of melons, Harras brought her…from the Bears." he rasped, coughing out blood and snot as his eyes closed and his head lolled to the side.
"Told Harras…not to go to raid again," he spoke slowly, his voice weakening, "but never listened. She burned us all…dragon, aye, me fought a dra…"
"Visenya" I murmured, turning around and exiting the room, a new rush of energy flowing through my body as I searched for her, She was free right now, but unlike me, she hand't gotten healed by the dragonfire. She was still injured, her body weak from the spars between us, then the fighting on the Bear Island, and now this…and despite the fact that she could use magic, what use was it if she simply dropped from exhaustion?
I ran like a man possessed, not even looking as I slashed the throat of a woman as I ran past her, her bow falling to the ground while the man behind her screamed in rage…or at least he did until I made the woman's blood turn into an explosion of spikes. Not looking back to see the sight, I stumbled for a moment or two, my magical energy on its last dregs after all the fighting I had done to get to this point, and physically too I wasn't faring much better.
Honestly, now that I had a somewhat quiet moment to myself, I was able to realize that it was only the drunk state of most of the Ironborn, and the shock and fear factor of the Dragons' presence that had ensured my survival until now. I could fight four people at once, and if they were drunk of their asses then it was even easier…but there was an order to it when I was in the yard. The men there weren't waving sharpened swords, massive cleavers and equally fatal axes, aiming to cut off my body parts like a pig for slaughter.
But here? Here stopping for even a single eyeblink would have spelled my death. If I didn't turn fast enough, a sword would have found its way into my chest. If I didn't duck and roll away in time, knives and axes would have been buried in my whole body.
Gods, I was going to hunt down a fucking whale and gift it to Vhyraxes and his siblings for burning away scores of Ironborn before they could get to me.
"Is the sorceress gone?" someone's voice echoed through the dead silent walls, and I stopped where I was, straining my ears to somehow locate where the voices were coming from. "Do you think the bitch is still alive? Think she is hunting us?"
"That bitch is a fucking Targaryen," a voice snarled back, and the sound of shuffling feet came from the corridor to my right, "Did you not see the fucking dragons flying around putting our people and boats to fire? But I can't fucking understand how the fuck did Ned Stark's bastard girl turn out to be a dragon-cunt? Think he put a bastard in the Mad fucker's wife? And HOW THE FUCK DID THE DRAGONS COME ABOUT AGAIN?!"
I blinked at that, my brain actually shutting down for a moment as the sheer hilarity and absurdity of that statement hit me like Gaelithox's head to my chest. Ned Stark couldn't have put a baby in Ashara Dayne if she would have danced naked in his lap, such was his upbringing and mental attitude regarding honor and duty.
Of course, the resounding, angry, and terrified shout that followed was equally entertaining, and I finally realized where the pair of Ironborn actually were. Taking a deep breath, I slowly crept forwards, timing my steps with those of them, and just as the first man crossed the wall into my vision, my sword sliced his jugular apart. Blood fountained on my face, the warm liquid mixing with those of several others—even my own—as I jumped forwards and thrust my sword into the neck of his partner, silencing his startled shout before it could even begin.
However, I had made a terrible, foolish mistake. The sound of the two dying men talking and shouting had covered the sound of the other two in their group. Three swordsmen, and an archer, who was already aiming for me. An arrow landed on my left forearm as I tried to evade the projectile, the sharp, wooden point thankfully not going through my hand.
Blindly evading a diagonal slash, I somehow managed to turn towards the archer once again, my blade in full swing. Before another arrow could be knocked, I cut off his head, the steel in my hands parting his muscles and vertebrae easily. I grunted as a shield bashed into my chest from the side, but now that the archer was taken care of, I could focus on the three swordsmen.
"That's him," the one to my right muttered, "The other bastard of Eddard Stark. Harras was talking about him before those beasts attacked and that blond girl started killing us."
"We'll take him to Rodrik," the center one spoke, swinging his sword as all three of them spread out around me, "By now, Old Wyk and the other ships must have seen the fires on the Island. No doubt Lord of the Pike will want to deal with this insolent bastard by himself, and I imagine the Fat Stag will pay us quite a copper for giving him three dragons and two bastards who control them."
"Aye," the right one nodded, a sickening smile on his face, "Baratheon is quite a horndog, no doubt he will want the blond bitch for himself to punish. Won't that please you, eh?" he asked me, swinging his rapier and taking a step forward, "Your bastard of a sister will be nothing but a cock-whore for the Fat Stag, whipped and beaten and broken to service the King. Tell me bastard, how the fuck did Eddard Stark's children manage to tame dragons, and light fireballs the si…."
The man couldn't finish his jeering sentence. Probably because his head exploded like an overripe fruit with a clench of my fingers, my anger enabling my marginal control over water to expand tremendously for a fleeting moment. But that moment was all I needed to drop my enemies from three to zero. Shocked as they were by the violent, messy death of their friend, and the blood and brain matter on their bodies, I had no problems in slashing the eyes of the one on my left, and cutting the throat of the last one in a single motion.
My wrist cried at the sudden movement, and my blade clattered to the ground along with the two dying men. Hobbling over to the now blind man, I stomped on his neck, a nasty crunch ranging out his wind-pipe and vertebrae both were crushed. His trashing stilled instantly and as blood started to well up from his mouth along with his eyes, and I fell to the ground beside him. Grabbing the arrow below my elbow, I pulled it out, thanking my lucky stars that it wasn't an iron-headed one.
Using what was probably the last bit of magic in my body, I lit my fingertip on fire and placed it on the wound, sighing as I felt the flesh knit back together under the small flame. "Fuck," I sagged against the wall behind me, willing the fog over my eyes to clear up. Pushing against the ground, I grimaced as my fingers slipped into the eye sockets of the dead Ironborn.
"Ugh… now to see which way Visenya went," I grunted, stumbling slightly as I stood up and walked over to the bastard sword on the ground. Spinning the light blade, I grinned at the familiarity of the weapon. Perfect.
I had to work fast…because as the now-dead Reaver had said, no doubt the inhabitants of Old Wyk had seen the fires on the docks and the Island itself. Even as I ran through the empty corridor towards the second section of the Ten Towers, I could almost imagine the confusion on the face of the people on the other Islands at the state of Harlaw.
I could only hope that the sea was misty tonight, otherwise, I could kiss any chance of secrecy and anonymity goodbye. Of course, there were the women and girls below in the lower levels of the Island to consider. Broken and unresponsive as they had been to the carnage around them, I did not have any doubts that they had seen me conjure the elements. Vhyraxes too must have been pretty hard to miss, considering he had torn dozens of reavers into nothing but minced meat and burnt flesh.
If they had been Northern, I would probably have had no problems in gaining their loyalty and making the truth of the night disappear. But most of them were from the Westerlands, the wealthiest region having been the major recipient of the Ironborn rebellion years ago…and Tywin Lannister was a man an average woman wouldn't even dare look at…
Perish the thought of outright lying.
Half of my mind was busy with how to avert the most disastrous, slash that, every disastrous outcome of the events that had played out today, I almost missed the bodies piled by the doorway to my left. The woman's head was completely destroyed, eerily similar to what I had done to loudmouth a few moments ago, and the man beside her was riddled with holes. Blood had pooled beneath both of them, but in that puddle of brain matter, flesh and blood, I managed to make out the crumbling, melting icicles…all of them red in color.
Turning this way and that, I tried to find any hint of her further movement, when I caught the sound of rushing footsteps from my back. Turning around, I raised my sword for a parry…only for it to drop from my hands as Visenya's blood-stained, injured but widely smiling face came into view.
"Daeron," she whispered, her violet eyes sparkling as she dropped her sword and jumped towards me, her arms winging around my neck in the tightest, warmest hug I had ever received. However, before I could reciprocate it, she pulled back sharply, a worried frown on her face as her fingers grabbed my cheeks and she turned my face from side to side, before she looked down at my chest, "You got an arrow to your chest?! Why are you still walking around you stupid dun-mmph!"
Her frantic words turned into a surprised moan as I grabbed her face and smashed our lips together, a growl leaving my lips as I pulled herself tighter against me. After more than a dozen seconds, I pulled back, reveling in the light dusting of pink on her face as she blinked up at me, her full lips parted as she panted.
"The dragons healed me," I muttered, cupping her cheek and looking over her, "I am so sorry Visenya. I should've-"
"Shh," she planted her finger on my lips, shaking her head, "Don't worry about what you should have done. It wasn't your fault that I was not careful enough about keeping a lookout at the back end of the Keep. Stop blaming yourself Daeron. Now come one, let's get out of this castle and get back home. We need to think of what we are going to say on Bear Island."
"They know about our parents already, or at least Maege knows," I shook my head, picking up my sword, "A lot happened while you were on your way to Harlaw. For now, pick up your sword, we are going to pay the Lords and Ladies of the Island a visit."
"Why would we do that?" she asked, picking up her newly acquired…Fucking Hell, was that Nightfall?! Before I could inquire about the Valyrian blade in her hands, she clicked her fingers in front of my eyes, "Hey! I am asking you something, and I did not have the luxury of dragonfire healing my wounds and energizing me. I am tired, irritated, and angry as fuck right now! It has been at least four days since I have eaten anything! So tell me, why the fuck you want to visit Rodrik Harlaw?"
"You killed Harras right?"
"Yes," she answered, slowly coming up beside me as I started to walk deeper into the fortress, "He had brought twenty girls and women from the Island. Out of them, three managed to throw themselves off the boat, and the other sixteen were taken deeper into the Castle, presumably to the Heir's Tower."
"Well, we are going to rescue those sixteen," I answered, looking down at the blood-stained blade in my hand, "and then take the remaining Harlaws back to Winterfell."
"And?"
Taking a deep breath, I uttered the words that had been brewing in my mind ever since I first sat upon Vhyraxes' back on Bear Island, "House Harlaw will cease to exist. Either the Heart Tree will gain new decorations after more than fifty years, or its Lord will take the Black, its Heir dead, and its Ladies turning into common servants."
"Rodrik didn't know about the attack today," Visenya commented after a few moments as we ascended a staircase, "Otherwise Harras would have first taken us to the Lord of the Island instead of keeping us for himself."
"Mhm," I nodded, noting roughly woven tapestries and wooden windows in the walls, "We'll see about that when we get to him. First, we have to find the women…and one more thing, try not to kill the Reavers with them if you can."
"Why, oh mighty Young Dragon?" she tilted her head, "You do know that they are better off dead right?"
"I know," I nodded, stepping over the corpse of a dead Ironborn—a twisted neck, it looked like. "But I have a plan, which I will tell you later. For now, focus on the task. I am low on magic, while you look you can barely swing that blade, so cover my back will you?"
"As if you have to ask," she scoffed, rolling her eyes for the added effect. However, the next moment, she frowned, her eyebrows scrunched as she continued, "On the topic of my physical state, I heard a voice in my head when I had been close to dropping from exhaustion a few minutes ago. It was a man, a really powerful man, if the way he gave me a week's worth of magical energy was anything to go by."
"I think I may just know who he is," I muttered, remembering a few snippets of information I knew about Bloodraven from my old life, and the tales about him in this one. "Did he say anything else, or show you something?"
"Mhm," she nodded, looking quite pleased with herself as she lifted Nightfall, and to my amazement, frosty blue veins started to travel down the blade as I felt the temperature around me drop. "We can launch blades of fire and ice through Valyrian Blades. Probably due to the magic that was used to make them, because I have never felt like while holding the steel swords back home."
"Unbelievable," I whispered, reaching out with a finger to touch the colder-than-cold edge, feeling the comforting embrace of the frostiness read through my hand within moments, "No wonder the Winter Kings bought a Valyrian Steel sword from the so-called sheepherders."
"Huh? Who is there?!" a voice came from the staircase to our front, the sound of footsteps following a moment after, "Harras, is that ye? One of the cunts killed Pol…Who the f-Ack!"
His eyes widened as a wave of blue energy left Visenya's sword, and a veritable storm of Icicles fell upon him, skewering his unarmoured body in numerous spots. The fat man fell to his knees, his hand weakly rising to the hole just below his mouth as he drowned in his own blood. Ignoring the smell of shit and piss as the man voided his bowels—Gods knew how many times that had happened today—Visenya and I shared a look.
Seemed like we knew where we would find the women that had been taken from Bear Island.
End Note: Yes, Yes, Jon and Lyanna are too OP for regular humans...but they can't use their powers freely and without a cost. It will be introduced in the coming chapters slowly, but magic is not usable each and every time.