1. Landing and Deployment at Black Stone Castle
The black rocks of Dragonstone gleamed coldly under the midday sun. As Lord Illyrio stepped onto the pier from the gangplank, the rough texture of the rocks met his soles—this was the ancestral home of the Targaryen Family centuries ago. The castle walls, forged from volcanic rock, resembled a dormant black dragon, and even the sea breeze carried the scent of sulfur as it swept past the ramparts. Unsullied soldiers were orderly moving supplies, carrying dragonglass spears, oil barrels, and valyrian steel daggers into the castle's ground-floor warehouse. Dothraki Riders, meanwhile, led their warhorses to drink by the shore, their manes still speckled with salt from the Narrow Sea.
"This place is more desolate than I imagined," Tyrion said, following behind Lord Illyrio, tapping the rocks under his feet with his cane. "Nothing but rocks and wind, can't even find a decent bottle of wine—Daenerys probably chose this as a stronghold because it's easy to defend and hard to attack."
Lord Illyrio looked up at the highest tower of the castle, once where Targaryen kings observed the stars. Now, a Night's Watch sentinel stood at the top, gazing out. "Easy to defend and hard to attack is one thing," he said, pointing to the bay on the west side of the castle. "The bay here can harbor all our warships, and it has only one entrance. With just a few warships stationed there, we can fend off Cersei's fleet's sneak attacks." He paused, pulling out a map of Dragonstone from his Pregnant—a replica of an ancient document found in the Meereen library. "More importantly, historical records indicate that there's a dragonglass mine beneath Dragonstone. The dragonglass weapons we brought earlier are only enough to equip half our soldiers. If we can find the mine, we can resupply the army in Winterfell with enough weapons."
Miss Arya walked beside them, her gaze fixed on the castle, her needle trembling slightly in its sheath. "When can we leave for Winterfell?" she asked, her voice urgent. "With the remaining Bolton forces rebelling, Sansa must be in great danger alone in Winterfell."
"Don't rush, Miss Arya," Tyrion said, shaking his empty wineskin. "We need to confirm two things first: when Daenerys's main force will arrive, and whether the dragonglass mine on Dragonstone can be exploited. Without enough weapons and troops, even if we rush to Winterfell, we'd only be supplying the Others."
Lord Illyrio nodded in agreement, then turned and ordered the Unsullied squad leader behind him: "Send two teams. One team to the tower to strengthen vigilance, closely monitoring movements from the Narrow Sea. The other team will follow Miss Arya to search inside the castle, focusing on finding the 'Dragonglass Vault' mentioned in the documents. Report any findings immediately." He looked at Miss Arya, adding, "There might be remaining Lannister spies in the castle. Be careful. Your needle is better suited for narrow spaces than our spears."
Miss Arya tightened her grip on her sword hilt and nodded, then followed two Unsullied into the castle gate. The corridors inside the castle were dark and damp, with faded Targaryen banners hanging on the walls and thick dust accumulating in the corners. Occasionally, the sound of bats flying could be heard. She led the way, her footsteps as light as a cat's, her right hand always on her sword hilt—her training in Braavos made her especially sensitive to danger in the dark. Before turning each corner, she would first peek to observe, ensuring no ambush before proceeding.
"There's a door here," an Unsullied suddenly said, pointing to an iron door at the end of the corridor. The iron door was rusty, with a three-headed dragon carved into it, and the doorknob was badly corroded. Miss Arya stepped forward and pushed it; the iron door didn't budge, clearly locked from the inside.
"Let me," she said, pulling a small dagger from her boot—a tool used during Faceless Men training, capable of easily picking ordinary locks. She inserted the dagger into the keyhole, twisted it gently, and with a soft "click," the lock cylinder opened. The iron door slowly pushed open, and a cold, earthy breeze rushed out, with a faint reflection of light coming from inside.
Miss Arya entered the room, holding a torch. It was filled with wooden crates, their dragon lines already blurred. Opening one of them, she found dragonglass ore neatly stacked inside, glowing with a dark green light. "I found dragonglass!" she called back, a hint of excitement in her voice—this dragonglass was enough to forge thousands of spears, enough to equip most of Winterfell's soldiers.
Meanwhile, Lord Illyrio and Tyrion were in the castle hall, checking the troop roster. "Eight thousand Unsullied, two thousand Dothraki Riders, plus three hundred Night's Watch from the vanguard—at most five thousand elites can be sent to Winterfell," Tyrion said, sketching on parchment with a charcoal pencil. "The remaining people need to stay on Dragonstone to guard against sneak attacks from Cersei's fleet."
"Five thousand is enough," Lord Illyrio said, pointing to the "fire oil" item on the list. "We brought thirty thousand barrels of improved fire oil, plus the dragonglass here, which can help Jon defend Winterfell. The key is the route—the land route requires passing through the Riverlands, where there are still remnants of Lannister forces; the sea route passes through Blackwater Bay, where Cersei's fleet is likely to be ambushed."
Just then, a Night's Watch sentinel rushed into the hall, looking panicked: "Lord Illyrio! Three warships have been spotted from the Narrow Sea, flying Lannister banners, heading towards Dragonstone!"
Lord Illyrio immediately stood up, grabbing the dragonglass dagger from his waist: "Order roar and lightning to intercept them! Make sure to deal with them before they get close to Dragonstone! Tyrion, you stay here and continue inventorying supplies. I'll go to the tower to command."
Tyrion nodded, putting down the charcoal pencil: "Be careful. Cersei's warships might be equipped with wildfire. Don't get too close."
Lord Illyrio quickly ascended the tower and observed the distant warships with a spyglass—three warships were approaching in a 'pin' formation, their hulls wider than ordinary warships. No soldiers were visible on deck, only a few dark figures busy, clearly preparing weapons. "They are Lannister 'wildfire ships'," he told the messenger beside him. "Order roar and lightning to attack their sails with their flame-thrower nozzles! Don't let them get close to the bay!"
The messenger immediately blew his horn, and roar and lightning in the bay quickly sailed out, rushing towards the Lannister warships. When they were still two hundred paces away, the Lannister warships suddenly launched fireballs towards roar—these were clay pots wrapped in fire oil, which would explode upon impact.
"Turn! Avoid the fireballs!" Lord Illyrio shouted. The captain of roar immediately adjusted course, and the fireballs grazed the hull and fell into the sea, splashing up huge amounts of water. Immediately after, the flame-thrower nozzles of roar and lightning simultaneously spewed flames, accurately hitting the sails of the Lannister warships. The sails instantly caught fire, black smoke billowed into the sky, and the Lannister warships lost power, spinning in the sea.
"Board them! Take prisoners alive!" Lord Illyrio ordered. Unsullied soldiers approached in small boats, boarded the burning warships, and soon returned with several captives. Lord Illyrio descended the tower and came to the pier to interrogate the captives—the leader was an officer in red armor, with a Lannister lion emblem pinned to his chest.
"What did Cersei send you to do?" Lord Illyrio pressed his dragonglass dagger against his throat. "How many warships are ambushed in Blackwater Bay?"
The officer's face was pale, and he trembled as he said, "Lady Cersei... sent us to scout Dragonstone's forces. There are fifty warships in Blackwater Bay, loaded with wildfire, waiting for your fleet to pass..."
Lord Illyrio's eyes sharpened: "Who is supporting the remaining Bolton forces in Winterfell?"
"It's... it's Roose Bolton's uncle, Rolfe Bolton. He hired two thousand mercenaries from the Free Cities and contacted the Lannister garrison, planning to ambush you when you reinforce Winterfell..."
Before he could finish, Miss Arya suddenly stepped out from the crowd, her needle pressed against his chest: "Where is Rolfe Bolton now? What's the defense of Winterfell like?"
The officer looked at Miss Arya's cold eyes, trembling with fear: "Rolfe... is at the Dreadfort near Winterfell. Winterfell's defenders are few. Lord Jon Snow is leading the army outside the city to suppress the rebellion..."
Lord Illyrio raised a hand to stop Miss Arya and told the messenger: "Lock him up and guard him closely. We'll get more detailed intelligence later." He turned to Miss Arya, "It seems we need to depart quickly. We'll take the land route through the Riverlands, avoiding the ambush in Blackwater Bay, and at the same time send a fast ship to notify Jon to beware of Rolfe's sneak attack."
Miss Arya nodded, her urgency even greater: "I can leave anytime. My needle hasn't seen blood in a long time."
2. The Secret of the Dragonglass Mine and Weapon Forging
That afternoon, Lord Illyrio took Miss Arya and several craftsmen to the dragonglass vault beneath the castle. The vault was larger than imagined, with glowing dragonglass ore embedded in the walls, illuminating the entire space. Unfinished dragonglass weapons were scattered on the ground, clearly left behind by the Targaryen Family years ago.
"These dragonglass pieces are very pure, better than what we brought from Meereen," the craftsman said, picking up a piece of dragonglass ore and tapping it with a hammer. "With enough tools, we can forge two hundred dragonglass spears a day."
Lord Illyrio looked at the dragonglass mine on the wall, reaching out to touch it—the surface of the ore was smooth, with a hint of coolness, and the magical energy it contained was more powerful than he had imagined. "Historical records state that Dragonstone's dragonglass mine connects to the depths of the volcano," he told Miss Arya. "This kind of dragonglass can not only kill wights but also enhance the burning effect of fire oil. We can mix dragonglass powder into fire oil to create 'dragonglass fire oil,' which will be even more effective against the Others."
Miss Arya picked up a dragonglass dagger from the ground, her fingertips tracing the sharp blade: "In the North, Old Nan said dragonglass was 'frozen fire,' capable of driving away monsters in the dark. I never thought we'd find so much here. Sansa will be so happy to see it." She paused, her eyes softening. "When I was little, Sansa and I often played in the crypts of Winterfell. She liked looking at the statues of knights, and I liked secretly taking Father's dagger to practice..."
Lord Illyrio looked at her expression, remembering his own family from before his transmigration, and a warmth spread through him. "Once we defeat the Others, you and Sansa can return to Winterfell and live peacefully again," he said softly. "Then, you can teach Sansa how to use a dagger, and she can take you to see those knight statues."
Miss Arya nodded, putting away the dagger: "I will. But for now, we need to forge weapons quickly. Jon is still waiting for us."
For the next two days, the craftsmen on Dragonstone worked day and night, forging dragonglass weapons. Miss Arya also joined in; though she didn't understand forging, she was skilled at polishing—using fine sandpaper to sharpen the tips of the dragonglass spears, making them capable of easily piercing iron armor. Tyrion, meanwhile, was busy planning the support mission, marking the land route on the map with charcoal, avoiding Lannister territory.
"The land route requires passing through Riverrun, which is currently garrisoned by Brynden Tully, Lady Catelyn's brother. He will provide us with supplies," Tyrion said, pointing to the "Riverrun" marker on the map. "It takes ten days from Riverrun to Winterfell, but if we speed up, we can get there in seven."
Lord Illyrio looked at the map, frowning: "There's a Haunted Forest on the way from Riverrun to Winterfell, where wights are active year-round. We need to send an advance team to clear the route and ensure the main force can pass safely." He turned to Miss Arya, "You're familiar with the forests of the North. Can you lead the advance team?"
Miss Arya immediately nodded: "No problem. I can take fifty Unsullied. We'll use dragonglass spears and fire oil to clear the wights and ensure the safety of the main force."
Tyrion shook his wineskin, smiling: "I knew you'd agree—House Stark never backs down. But be careful. The wights in the Haunted Forest are fiercer than ordinary wights. They were specifically left there by the Night King to block reinforcements from the North."
Miss Arya tightened her grip on needle: "I've killed more wights than you've drunk wine. Don't worry."
That evening, Lord Illyrio held a tactical meeting in the castle hall to announce the plan to support Winterfell: "Five thousand elite soldiers will be divided into three teams.
The first team, led by Arya, will consist of fifty Unsullied as an advance party, departing three days early to clear wights from the Haunted Forest.
The second team, led by me, will be the main force of three thousand Unsullied and a thousand Dothraki Riders, carrying dragonglass weapons and fire oil, traveling by land to Winterfell.
The third team, led by Tyrion, will have fifteen hundred men remaining at Dragonstone to rendezvous with Daenerys's main force, while also defending against Cersei's fleet."
"I have a suggestion," Tyrion suddenly spoke.
"We could send a fast ship, carrying dragonglass weapons and fire oil, by sea to White Harbor.
That is the territory of the Manderly family, loyal to House Stark, and could support Winterfell from the flank.
This would both distract Cersei and speed up our support."
Lord Illyrio's eyes lit up: "Good idea.
Let 'the Seagull' be responsible for transport.
The captain is an old sailor, familiar with the Narrow Sea routes, and can avoid Cersei's fleet."
After the meeting, Arya returned to her room to pack—she only brought needle, a dragonglass dagger, and a Night's Watch cloak; everything else she left for the soldiers staying behind.
She sat on the bed and took out the parchment from her in my arms, on which was drawn a map of Winterfell, which she had drawn from memory in Braavos, every corner clearly marked.
"Sansa, Jon, I'm coming soon," she whispered, her fingers tracing the "Winterfell Great Hall" marker on the map.
"We'll soon be able to defend our home together."
Three: Pre-departure Ambush and Battle
Early on the third morning, before dawn, Arya led the advance party, preparing to depart.
By the dock, "the Seagull" had already raised its sails, ready to transport dragonglass weapons and fire oil to White Harbor.
Lord Illyrio and Tyrion stood on the shore, seeing them off.
"Be careful, Miss Arya," Tyrion handed her a flask.
"It's hot mulled wine; it will ward off the cold of the North.
If you encounter danger, fire a signal flare, and we will support you as quickly as possible."
Arya took the flask and tucked it into her in my arms: "Don't worry, I will reach Winterfell alive and wait for you all to rendezvous."
She turned to Lord Illyrio, "Dragonstone is in your hands; don't let Cersei's fleet succeed in an ambush."
Lord Illyrio nodded and handed her a dragonglass badge: "This is our signal.
If you meet Jon's men, show them this badge, and they will trust you."
Arya took the badge, pinned it to her chest, turned, and boarded the small boat, heading towards "the Seagull."
Just then, shouts of battle suddenly erupted from the west side of the castle, followed by the crackling sound of fire oil burning.
"What's happening?" Lord Illyrio immediately drew his dragonglass dagger and said to the messenger beside him, "Go and see!"
The messenger quickly reported: "It's remnants of Lannister forces, about five hundred men.
They ambushed our warehouse and are looting dragonglass weapons and fire oil!"
Lord Illyrio's eyes turned cold: "Tyrion, you stay here and ensure 'the Seagull' departs smoothly.
I'll go to the warehouse to support!"
He finished speaking and ran towards the warehouse with two hundred Unsullied.
The warehouse was located on the west side of the castle and was currently engulfed in flames.
Lannister soldiers, holding torches, frantically looted dragonglass spears, some even throwing fire oil barrels at the Unsullied, trying to hinder their attack.
"Hold the warehouse!
Don't let them take the dragonglass!" Lord Illyrio shouted, brandishing his dragonglass dagger as he charged forward.
A Lannister soldier swung a longsword at him.
Lord Illyrio dodged sideways, simultaneously piercing his heart with the dagger.
The soldier fell to the ground and quickly stopped breathing.
The Unsullied also raised their spears, engaging in battle with the Lannister soldiers.
dragonglass spears pierced the soldiers' bodies, leaving green marks.
Arya saw the fire in the direction of the warehouse and immediately had the small boat turn around, heading towards the shore.
"You go to White Harbor first; I'm going to support Lord Illyrio!" she said to the Unsullied of the advance party, then jumped off the small boat and ran towards the warehouse.
Inside the warehouse, Lord Illyrio was fighting a Lannister officer.
The officer wielded a battle-axe with astonishing strength; Lord Illyrio's dagger nearly was knocked from his hand several times.
Just as the officer swung his axe again, Arya suddenly rushed out from the side, and needle pierced the officer's back.
The officer screamed and fell to the ground, trying to grab Arya's clothes before he died, but she easily dodged him.
"Why are you back?" Lord Illyrio looked at her in surprise.
"Help is needed here," Arya wiped the blood from needle.
"'The Seagull' has already departed, and the advance party will clear the route as planned.
I'm staying to help you deal with these people."
Lord Illyrio nodded, saying no more—now was not the time for argument.
There were still many Lannister soldiers in the warehouse, and they had to be dealt with quickly.
The two stood back-to-back, Lord Illyrio using his dragonglass dagger against nearby enemies, Arya using needle to stab distant soldiers, cooperating perfectly.
Seeing that the tide had turned, the Lannister soldiers began to retreat, but were intercepted by the Night's Watch led by Tyrion, who had rushed to the scene.
"Trying to run?
Not so easy!" Tyrion waved his staff.
Though unarmed, he cleverly directed the Night's Watch to form a circle, trapping the Lannister soldiers in the middle.
After an hour of fighting, all the Lannister soldiers were finally eliminated, and the warehouse fire was brought under control.
Lord Illyrio looked at the bodies strewn across the ground and the burning fire oil barrels, his expression grim: "These men must have been rallied by the officers we captured earlier.
They were lurking near Dragonstone, waiting for an opportunity to ambush us."
"It seems we still underestimated Cersei's determination," Tyrion sighed.
"She not only wants to ambush us in Blackwater Bay but also wants to destroy our supplies and prevent us from supporting Winterfell."
Arya inspected the dragonglass weapons in the warehouse, finding most of them intact, and breathed a sigh of relief: "It's a good thing we discovered it in time and didn't suffer too much loss.
But I must leave soon; the advance party is still waiting for me to clear the route."
Lord Illyrio nodded and said to the Unsullied beside him: "Prepare the fastest horse for Miss Arya, and send twenty Unsullied to escort her to catch up with the advance party."
Arya mounted her warhorse and waved to Lord Illyrio and Tyrion: "I'll be waiting for you in Winterfell!"
With that, she spurred her horse northwards, her figure gradually disappearing among the black rocks of Dragonstone in the morning light.
Lord Illyrio watched her retreating figure, filled with confidence.
He knew that Arya would surely reach Winterfell safely and help Jon defend their home.
And he and Tyrion would also lead the main force there as quickly as possible to rendezvous with them, jointly confronting the threat of the Others and Cersei.
Tyrion patted his shoulder: "Don't worry, the people of House Stark are like the wild grass of the North; no matter how severe the storm, they can survive tenaciously.
Let's prepare to depart quickly; we don't have much time left."
Lord Illyrio nodded and turned to walk towards the castle: "Notify all soldiers; we depart tomorrow morning, traveling by land to Winterfell!"
As the sun set, the black rocks of Dragonstone were stained golden, and the warships in the bay lay still, like black dragons poised to strike.
Lord Illyrio stood at the top of the tower, looking at the northern sky, silently thinking: "Jon, Sansa, Arya, we are coming soon.
The fate of Westeros rests on us to protect it together."
Four: Aftermath on Dragonstone and Hope for Winterfell
Early the next morning, Lord Illyrio led the main force, five thousand soldiers in neat formation, advancing north along the coastline of Dragonstone.
Tyrion stood by the dock, watching them leave, with the Night's Watch beside him reinforcing the castle's defenses, preparing to welcome Daenerys's main force.
"Will Lord Illyrio reach Winterfell safely?" a Night's Watch soldier asked, his eyes filled with worry.
Tyrion smiled and shook his flask: "Don't worry, with Miss Arya leading the way and Lord Illyrio's tactical command, they will surely arrive safely.
What we need to do is hold Dragonstone, wait for Queen Daenerys's main force to arrive, and then go to Winterfell together to give the Others and Cersei a surprise."
The Night's Watch soldier nodded and continued to reinforce the defenses.
Tyrion walked to the warehouse, looking at the dragonglass weapons and fire oil barrels stacked inside, his heart filled with anticipation—these weapons, these soldiers, these allies, would be key to defeating the Others and Cersei.
He remembered his days in King's Landing, Tywin's coldness, Cersei's madness, his own escape, and suddenly felt that although his current life was dangerous, it was more meaningful than before—he was no longer living for Lannister power, but for protecting this world, for those who needed help.
Meanwhile, Arya had caught up with the advance party and was clearing wights in the Haunted Forest.
She led fifty Unsullied, piercing the wights' hearts with dragonglass spears and burning their bodies with fire oil, ensuring the main force could pass safely.
Although the wights in the forest were fierce, they were quickly annihilated under the attack of dragonglass and fire oil.
"Miss Arya, Riverlands is ahead," a squad leader of the Unsullied reported.
"A messenger from the Manderly family is waiting for us there, saying they have the latest news from Winterfell."
Arya immediately spurred her horse forward and soon met the Manderly family's messenger.
The messenger handed her a letter, on which was Sansa's handwriting: "Jon has quelled the remaining Bolton forces, and Winterfell's defenses are being strengthened.
The Citadel documents brought by Sam record that dragonflame and valyrian steel can completely kill the Night King.
We are waiting for you all to rendezvous in Winterfell to jointly fight the Others."
Arya finished reading the letter, her heart filled with hope.
She looked up towards the North, in the direction of Winterfell, silently thinking: "Father, Mother, Robb, we will soon be able to defend our home."
She turned to the Unsullied of the advance party and said: "Speed up; we must reach Winterfell as soon as possible to help Jon and Sansa prepare to fight the Others!"
The Unsullied responded in unison, their voices echoing through the forest.
Arya spurred her horse forward, needle gleaming silver in the sunlight, the dragonglass badge on her chest shimmering with a green light—that was the light of hope, the light of protection, the never-extinguishing light of House Stark.
The sea breeze of Dragonstone still swept over the black rocks, the snow had begun to fall in Winterfell, warships were sailing the Narrow Sea, and the fate of Westeros was in the hands of these brave people.
The main force led by Lord Illyrio was crossing the Riverlands, Tyrion was waiting for Daenerys's main force on Dragonstone, Arya was on her way to Winterfell, Jon and Sansa were reinforcing Winterfell's defenses, and Sam was searching for more ways to fight the Others in The Citadel—though they were in different places, they shared a common goal: to protect this world, defeat the Others and Cersei, and restore peace and freedom to Westeros.
As night fell, Arya led the advance party to camp in a small town in the Riverlands.
She sat by the campfire, drinking the hot mulled wine Tyrion had given her, looking at the sleeping Unsullied soldiers beside her, her heart filled with peace.
She knew that the road ahead would still hold danger and challenges, but she was no longer afraid—because she was not fighting alone; she had family, friends, allies, and all those fighting for justice and freedom.
"We'll reach Winterfell tomorrow," she whispered, her fingers tracing the dragonglass badge on her chest.
"Sansa, Jon, I'm coming."
The campfire's light illuminated her face, her eyes filled with determination and hope.
She knew that a war that would decide the fate of Westeros was about to begin, and she would be one of the bravest warriors in this war, using her needle, using her courage, to protect everything she loved.