[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Riverlands.
...
...
"Let's leave now!", said Lord Tallhart, as he finished checking the last ships with the men, with his men quickly beginning to handle the ships, just like all the other more than sixty ships.
"Well... it seems it's going to be a boring trip to those damned ironborn," Hrogar, one of the leaders of the mountain clans who were traveling with them, couldn't help but mutter to Lord Tallhart and Lord Glover, as the ships began to set sail, leaving the shores of the Dustin seat. The vessels raised their sails and advanced down the river toward the sea.
More than sixty ships were prepared to strike Pyke, carrying eight thousand men and an impeccable plan, as well as detailed information they had about the enemy beforehand. They could also easily catch the ironborn by surprise in this attack, since they seemed to be arrogant. According to what the king had said, Balon Greyjoy did not believe Pyke would be attacked now and was rebuilding ships again, which made his daughter abandon him with most of the ships.
An eagle arrived at that exact moment to the three lords on the main ship, while another commander of that small division of the army, Tormund Giantsbane, took care of the free folk men, who already had some experience sailing to the Bear Islands in the north. They were not yet accustomed to steering a ship, but with some of the experience they had previously gained, they managed to handle the ships by following the others from the North with the help of some northerners on their ships.
A message from the king arrived as the eagle landed near them. Tallhart approached and removed the small parchment tied to the bird's leg.
The message informed them of the movement in the south, and Daemon also asked that they send any reports directly to that eagle, which would be ready to carry any specific information — or that they simply tell the wolves. This order was strange, but Daemon had been specific about it. Due to his warg powers, he would hear what his wolves heard when requested.
As the ships headed straight for the Sunset Sea, the main army met more Reed men below Moat Cailin. They waited for them and joined the march, arriving at the Frozen Field shortly afterward farther south.
The entire landscape was dead, standing out in that grayish area; there was still much greenery around, but where Winter had struck, the entire region looked bizarre, with the total death of plant life.
The men were not at all enthusiastic about that. They had also seen the camp where Daemon had executed the men of Ramsay Snow, who had planned to meet with his father or help him go north after passing Moat Cailin.
Whispers and gossip spread, saying that Daemon had simply killed thousands of men with a single movement of the dragon — something terrifying — leaving the enemies suffocating to death with ice in the air.
Even so, no one voiced complaints publicly. They only murmured about how that ice dragon — being the first of its element in Westeros to soar across the skies — was deadly, and many said it was even more dangerous than the fire-breathing Targaryen dragons.
"Let's camp here today!" Daemon gave the order, leading the group at the front. He found that region quite interesting, precisely to gather enemy scouts.
Daemon wanted to do something that night. He planned to wait for the Frey scouts to watch the camp, but to take them down before they could pass information to the south, leaving the Freys without news from the North.
Lord Stark, Mance, and Lord Stannis quickly began giving orders to the three different groups that made up the army.
The camp was set up farther outside the frozen region, while the air — which had not yet fully recovered in that area — was dry and dangerous, the place filled with bonfires to warm them.
Daemon decided to take a walk alone, going to some of the higher spots to observe the camp. He stood there, unnoticed, watching the destroyed area when someone approached him.
"Your Grace, your dragon looks like Winter itself." Daemon looked toward the one who had spoken as the man also observed the camp being prepared.
It was Ser Davos, one of Stannis' men — someone who was part of his main council. Daemon knew, by the look he had seen when he threatened Stannis, that this should be one of the men most inclined to avoid facing him, since his eyes had filled with fear upon seeing Daemon and his dragon in front of White Harbor.
"I am Ser Davos, Your Grace," Davos said, seeing the king's silence as Daemon studied the knight. Davos immediately bowed and spoke his words.
"I know who you are, ser," Daemon replied calmly. "I've heard a few things. You are the Onion Knight, a smuggler who even took part in the rebellion against my family," he said, leaving the knight unsure whether he was angry or not. Even so, it made him tremble.
It was true: he had smuggled food into Storm's End while the castle was besieged by the Reachmen. There had been only five hundred people inside the walls against fifty thousand outside, led by Mace Tyrell, who was willing to let Stannis, Renly, and everyone there starve to death. Davos had saved the two Baratheon brothers at the time, along with all the others in the fortress, by sending ships to one of the castle's hidden sea entrances.
"My lord...", he tried to speak, but Daemon stopped him, knowing very well he would start giving excuses and try to justify having helped the enemy at that time against the Baratheons.
"There is nothing to apologize for, Ser Davos. You were only fighting for your side, with your reasons. That is not what I seek — going around slaughtering everyone who rose against the Targaryens. If that were the case, I would have to destroy more than half the realm. My problem is with the injustices that were committed. I know my parents were wrong to flee for a foolish romance. And believe me, they paid for it… or are still paying. But my real problem is with the crimes committed against my family: the injustices, the unjustified massacres. Many of those responsible are still alive in the south, families I intend to eradicate completely. Even if I do not kill all their members, I will make their family names nothing more than entries in history books of extinct houses...", Daemon said in a dry tone.
The man lowered himself a bit more. "I have heard about that, Your Majesty," he said. "If Stannis believed in your justice to end all wars and bring peace to the realm again... then I will believe as well."
Daemon nodded, satisfied with the answer, before turning his gaze to the destroyed field outside the camp.
"You seem to be a good man, Ser Davos. I hope we can work together. And in answer to your earlier question… yes, Winter is a rather fitting name for my dragon. The vegetation will remain like this for some time, perhaps a year or two, before it begins to grow back — if that thing even allows the ground to remain unscarred, for even I still do not know the full effects Winter's ice can have... Only time will tell," Daemon said.
"I heard your dragon brings down castles as if it were knocking over a pile of sand." He spoke cautiously.
"It's true... The power of ice simply pushes stones, or even freezes them, making them crack under the pressure. Winter reaches a near absolute level of cold. There is nothing in this world that can withstand such a temperature." Daemon took a deep breath. "I even suspect Winter is capable of destroying Valyrian steel blades, making them shatter like glass... but I have never truly had the desire to test that."
"You are—" Before Ser Davos could continue the conversation, someone approached. Daemon saw Val walking toward him. Lafy was right behind her, worried.
"You vanished, Daemon! I came to look for you," Val said as she approached, cutting off the Onion Knight.
Daemon gave a small smile to his lover. "Well, Ser Davos... as much as I would like to continue the conversation, I shall take my leave now. Perhaps we can speak another time," he said at last.
When Ser Davos bowed without protest, Daemon waited for Val and Lafy to stand at his side before they began leaving the area. Ser Davos returned to the work of setting up the camp in that place.
"You like to slip away; you're always disappearing," Val commented beside him as they walked. Daemon gave a faint smile, Lafy staying silent behind them.
Anyone who saw him immediately bowed to Daemon throughout the camp, drawing the attention of others, who stopped setting up their tents to kneel.
But Daemon did not mind. He simply kept an amused smile for Val. "I like spending some time alone... but I also like when you find me," he replied.
She looked at him, and they continued walking through the field until they returned to the main tent, where they would spend the rest of the night, joining Ygritte.
Daemon had never been interested in inviting Lord Stark to share meals in the days that followed as they marched, but he always saw his uncle staring at him every night with a glimmer of regret. Daemon had no desire at all to share a table with a man who once enjoyed seeing him suffer as a child.
The bridge between them had been burned long ago, and Daemon kept him close only out of mercy, helping maintain the loyalty of the rest of the Stark family during the military campaign and afterward for Robb.
"I'm going for a walk," Daemon said once he finished his meal.
Val and Ygritte looked at him but said nothing.
"Go back to your tent, Lafy. And you two... I'll return soon," Daemon said at last to his two lovers, while the boy would leave the tent to go to his next to theirs. Even so, he looked at him a bit worried.
"My king, you should have protection, let me accompany you at least!", the boy murmured, trying to maintain the etiquette Daemon had been teaching him — to be respectful and use titles. Even being just a boy who had lived most of his life beyond the Wall among the free folk, he was learning quickly.
Hearing that, Daemon only gave an ironic smile. "Do not worry about that, Lafy. I know how to take care of myself. The only Kingsguard I have is Ser Barristan Selmy... and he is protecting my queen. I need nothing else," Daemon said casually.
"Don't argue with Daemon, he's stubborn about that," Ygritte said, huffing as she cleared the table.
It would be good to fill the other Kingsguard positions later — but that would be for another time.
Daemon slipped out of his tent using a concealment spell so that no one would notice him. The guards nearby didn't even realize when he subtly walked out of the camp, passing even the scouts.
He needed to get a bit farther away; he needed to kill the boredom that had consumed him over the past moons. Ever since he had taken Moat Cailin, there had been only a few minor fights, but nothing close to a real battle. That left the Dragonborn restless — he needed more action beyond daily training.
So he sought the only way to distract himself that night: hunting Frey scouts.
He found a pack of wolves in the treetops farther away. His direwolves were all gathered there, waiting for him since he had ordered them to meet him at that point.
"Hello, boys." He crouched and touched the fur of the wolves closest to him. "Tonight will be a night of hunting," he said excitedly.
The night advanced, and men to the south tried to get closer and closer to the main camp, attempting to avoid the scouts who roamed the region. Some were caught, but most managed to slip past and deliver information to the Freys in the south.
Daemon had never maintained a true defensive perimeter around the camp. His men organized their own protection, and if he truly wanted to prevent any enemy scout from approaching, he would have set his wolves to patrol the entire area and reinforced the scouts even further.
But he did not. It did not matter to him whether the enemy knew of his army now. He wanted the Freys to tremble in fear, to grow desperate knowing death was approaching. He also wanted to have fun — and to see what excuses they would offer after the Red Wedding.
A group of three Frey scouts hid on a hill, watching from a distance the enormous number of campfires and torches of the dragon king's massive camp with more than 150,000 men.
"We must inform Lord Frey. Let me go south," one of them said.
The others immediately protested. "Why you? I'm faster with a horse. Let me go!"
"Stop it, you fools. I know the art of escaping better than either of you. I'll carry the message."
None of them wanted to remain farther north; the danger was far too great. The enemy army was enormous, and just being there already put them at great risk. Perhaps because of the argument, none of them noticed what approached from behind, climbing the hill in silence.
A low growl made the three turn around — and immediately freeze. Five giant wolves were there, baring their teeth, saliva dripping from their fangs.
The men screamed — a terrible, loud scream that alerted other Frey scouts and even a search party from the dragon king's army patrolling the region.
Northern soldiers ran to the hill after hearing the screams, finding only three mutilated corpses.
Those were clearly Frey scouts, but the state of the bodies… did not look like a normal death.
"Hey… what was that?", one of the Frey men murmured upon hearing the scream, in a nearby forest.
They were only two men hidden among the trees, doing the same job as the last three unfortunate ones: watching from afar. Neither saw the shadow approaching from behind.
"Don't worry about that. All of you will join them soon."
When the voice sounded behind them, both jumped in fright — but they had no time to react before Daemon simply executed them. He looked at the fallen corpses in the next moment.
"Tonight I'll give you to the wolves. Let's look for more. We have an entire region to clear tonight." His tone was monotonous — it didn't seem like a difficult task, but at least he was having more fun than in previous nights, easing his own boredom a little.
The night went on, and more Frey men were killed. Screams echoed from several points across the region, and northern scouts ran to investigate, finding only corpses: some with deep fang marks, others slain by clean, fatal sword strikes, as if they hadn't even had time to feel pain — the killer always struck precisely where he needed to take each man's life instantly.
Daemon returned to the camp at dawn, after eliminating everyone in the area. Upon reaching the tent, he simply didn't want to sleep — Ygritte grabbed him forcefully, removing his clothes.
Daemon, not very satisfied even after running the entire night with his wolves, gladly accepted the warmth of his lover. Val woke up shortly after, grumbling and cursing Jon for not having gone along to help, but soon turned that frustration into energy as she sat on top of him with force.
In the end, the camp was dismantled, and Daemon once again led his men south. They were less than a week away from the Twins now, and the Freys were completely blind to the North's advance.
Daemon had set his wolves loose to hunt down any and all Frey scouts in the region, eliminating anyone who tried to pass information about the army in the coming days.
----
Raccoon Here:
Just one chapter before reaching the Twins, after all, I didn't want to make them appear immediately in front of the Freys.
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