The Warg Lord (ASOIAF)(SI)

[ATP]

And that is how Mountain raped Sarella,Nym ,Oberyn and Jon to death.Unhappy end.
Jokes aside - thanks for chapter,and after such worlds somebody from his party should die,or at least be injured.

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter Great story as always

 

[LazyWizard]

After cursing himself for being an idiot and raising a bloody death flag for no good reason, Jon immediately gave up all of his leisurely attitude and began to speed up his drawing speed, wanting to take care of all his enemies before anything changed due to some indescribable cosmic rules.


Meanwhile, back to the very beginning of the battle, when Ser Gregor first laid eyes on the face of the infamous Red Viper, the man had gotten so shocked that it had taken him more than a few seconds to simply comprehend who was standing in front of him.


"Martell!"The knight growled as he raised his great sword while sending a fierce glare towards the spear wielder, "How did you enter the Westerlands?"


The Mountain, of course, recognised the man in front of him to be Oberyn Martell, the second prince of Dorne, as he had seen the man during his younger days when he was a squire training to become a knight at Casterly Rock.


This hateful foreign prince had always been a thorn in his side and was one of the key reasons why Gregor rarely left the Westerlands, why he always preferred travelling with his whole party, and why he had created his tiresome habit of always wearing his bulky armour all day long...


All because of this man's unquenchable desire to slay him.


That is not to say that the Mountain was afraid of him coming to kill him... no, no, that would be too laughable.


The Mountain was scared of no one when it came to a fight, not those so-called greatest warriors of the realm in the Kingsguard, not those fancy knights from Reach or Vale, not those brutal savages from the North, and especially not this pancy from Dorne.


This knight had absolute faith in his ability and had always considered himself to be the strongest in Westeros, across all kingdoms, no questions asked.


And the Mountain had every right to be this arrogant, as none of his opponents, no matter how famous they were among the smallfolks, or how righteous they were, or how many gods there were with him, had ever been able to take a hit of his great sword and survive— no one.


So, no, the Mountain was definitely not scared of this man's ability to kill him, as he was just another one among those countless other idiots who were after his head, and he never cared about them.


But what he absolutely loathed about him were those so-called cowardly tactics this man was well known for, the kind of shit that he could not fight against.


He was one of those few in Westeros who not only had the resources but was also despicable enough to try and kill him by using poison or other gutless tactics, such as sending an assassin to take him out in his sleep.


The thoughts of dying in such a way had made the Mountain so paranoid that he had been forced to keep a poison taster in his keep, as if he were one of those fat, fancy lords who were afraid of their own shadows.


And why was this man after him?


Just because he had played with that damn sickly girl more than a decade ago, before killing her as he was ordered. As if she would not have died without him.


So, safe to say, the Mountain had always been hoping for a chance to get rid of this pest in the past, but since this man had never appeared anywhere near Kings Landing or the Westerlands, he had never gotten lucky enough to get one, but now...


Now this idiot prince, who knew a little bit of dancing with a spear and considered himself to be a good fighter, had delivered himself to him on his own accord... probably under some delusion to claim vengeance with his own hands.


'Oh, how he would enjoy hearing this Dornish trash's screams of agony,' Mountain thought with a deranged gleam in his eyes.


"Dead men have no need for information," Oberyn replied with such a cold gaze that it would have made Eddard Stark proud.


"You are right about that," Gregor smirked and then lunged at Oberyn in the very next instant, putting all his speed and strength into his sword, wanting to take him down with a single swing.


But Oberyn seemed to have been expecting the surprise attack and, with a simple jump back, dodged the attack that would have cut down most of the elite warriors in this World.


'Tsk,' Gregor clicked his tongue in irritation at the missed chance, but his sword did not stop for a single second, as he continued his attack, with every slash, hack, and swing of his great sword containing a brutal ferocity that made the wind scream.


Most people only knew about Mountain's incredible strength, but they did not know that this beast also knew how to convert this strength into speed, making it impossible for anyone who had not spent their entire life training in combat to even be able to see the sword trajectory, let alone fight back.


In fact, an average person's first reaction upon seeing this bull-sized man coming at him while waving a man-sized great sword would be to panic, cower, and run away, or simply stand there and accept their fate.


But Oberyn was one of those rare few individuals in the world who had lived half his life amongst blades and blood, so he neither feared the man nor panicked at the sight of his might.


His mind was as calm as a pool of water as Oberyn weaved in and out of the Mountain's mighty strikes as if he were a leaf floating in the wind.


Every inch of his body was tightly wound, moving according to his exact wishes, and his spear was almost a shadow in his hand, attacking and deflecting at the tiniest of openings, rotating faster than a man could blink, and every hit of his was precise and always focused on the joints of the knights armour, wanting to take the man's limbs out of the equation first.


This was what all those months of training had been for, this was why he had foregone wine, foregone sweets, and all his other indulgences... he had trained until he dropped, from sunrise to sunset, and it had all been for this very moment.


And it paid off...


As Oberyn was feeling more level-headed in this battle than he had ever been before in his life, every single move of his enemy was as clear to him as if he were reading them from a book.


At this moment, in this battle, Oberyn felt that his combat ability was at the very peak of his life; he had never been better than this, nor did he think that he could ever become better than this.


In fact, Oberyn felt that if he wanted to, then it would only take him less than a dozen precise stabs into the small openings in the armour around his face to bring this beast down, but no... that would be too easy; Oberyn would not lose himself to momentary bloodlust; he would control himself and only attack to disable the Mountain.


And while it was a lot harder to subdue than to kill someone, especially someone like the Mountain with his thick armour, Oberyn knew that he could do it.


It would just take a little bit of time and patience...


"ARGH! Just stop moving, you insect!!" The Mountain roared as the Dornish prince once again ducked under his swing at the last moment, all while attacking his knee joint with the butt of his spear, which the Mountain completely ignored like every other hit of his. But even with his abnormal physique, Gregor was slowly starting to feel the burn of those hits piling up.


But the Mountain still did not think that he would lose, as no matter how many times this bastard managed to duck or dodge, there would eventually be a moment when he would get tired, and make a mistake, and that... is all the Mountain needed, just one chance to get in a solid hit, and he knew for sure that the man would immediately go down like a house of cards.


'Now, if only this bastard could stop moving for one fucking second! Ugh!'


But no matter how much effort and power Gregor put into his attacks, or how fast he tried to be, he just never caught up to the Viper, who circled him again and again, always managing to keep just enough distance to be able to dodge his attacks, but still stay close enough to hit him accurately.


Before this, the Mountain had never felt that his skills with the sword were inadequate, but now... Now he realised that, except for training his strength and stamina, he had never paid much attention to those complicated sword forms that those other knights practised daily, considering them just stupid, useless dances, but now he regretted that choice, thinking that perhaps it would have been better if he had practised them a few times.


"Huh... huuh...huuh..."


Slowly but surely, the Mountain got tired as he began to breathe heavily, his swings began to lose their previous ferocity, and while he still had enough stamina to go on, his muscles had already started burning from the continuous overexertion.


And since misfortune never comes alone, at the exact moment that the Mountain was feeling the most weary, his head was suddenly hit by a jarring disorientation spell, which made his surroundings blurry and his focus also narrowed by a large margin.


"Wha—" The Mountain faltered as he vigorously shook his head, trying to shake off his dizziness, but it did not help much, and his irritating headache also decided to flare up at that moment, with an intensity like never before, 'What the hell is happen—Argh! Damn it! Must be that damn poison!'


That's right, it had taken a while, but the poison had finally started working its magic; in fact, the rest of the party, those who were still alive, were already half dead because of its effects, unlike the Mountain, who was just having small vision problems.


But that small momentary problem was the straw that broke the camel's back, as Oberyn did not miss the opportunity and slammed the butt of his spear into the back of the Mountain's knee with all his body's strength.


And all his efforts finally paid off as the Giant was brought down to his knees.


"Shit!" Gregor cursed as he barely managed to stop his fall by placing his left hand in front of him at the last second. Even in this position, the Mountain did not lose his sword and swung it at the cursed Dornishman, but he missed as Oberyn jumped back with an easy grace.


The Mountain tried to get back up on his feet again and again, but his knee was seriously hurt this time, and just shook helplessly, refusing to follow his orders. It seems that all those previous hits that he had taken before were finally taking their toll on him.


"Ugh!" The Mountain grunted as he swung his sword wildly, hoping to catch the bastard on one of his errant attacks, but he knew it was fruitless, as he couldn't even touch him at his full strength, let alone now from his awkward half-kneeling position.


'Finally,' Oberyn was breathing just a little heavily at the moment, but other than that, he was feeling completely composed, his eyes were fully alert, and he forced himself not to become complacent just because his enemy was kneeling, as he knew that this was the most crucial moment.


He slowly but surely began to close the distance with the beast, while continuing to focus his assault on Mountain's other knee and his hand holding the sword, wanting to completely deprive him of his mobility.


It took him some effort, but eventually the Mountain's hand faltered as the sword was bashed out of his shaky hands, and he was finally made to fully kneel with both his hands and knees flat on the ground.


Oberyn finally allowed himself to feel a hint of relief, as he had finally managed to accomplish what he had set out to, and brought this beast in human clothing, this scrouge on the face of Westeros, down on his knees.


"W-Wait! Don't kill me!!" Mountain's voice quivered as he begged using words that the man had never imagined he would ever use in his life, "I-It was not my fault, what happened!" he growled, looking up with a desperate look on his face, "I was ordered! I was just doing my job! Your sister Elia—"


"Keep her name out of YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!!" Oberyn roared as he lunged and brought his spear down on the monster's head, but Mountain moved as if he had been waiting for that as he abruptly dodged at the last moment and pounced at Oberyn with the sword that he had reacquired sneakily.


"ARGH!!"


The Mountain had used all of his remaining strength and wits, but sadly, Oberyn was no rookie and easily evaded the desperate man's desperate attack.


He was going to make no stupid mistake at this final moment, no matter how full of rage he was at the moment, and no matter how much his blood boiled to make this monster pay immediately for daring to utter his sister's name.


But unfortunately for him, while he did not make the blunder at this crucial moment, someone else did...


...


"FUCK!" Nymeria screamed in despair as she looked at the spear enlarging in her eyes, feeling completely helpless to stop it, 'Am I going to die?'


A few seconds earlier, the girl had been feeling on top of the world; she had been making easy work of her two opponents, completely overpowering them to the point that they had to take turns to keep her occupied.


And as the fight went on, and they began to accumulate injuries, and as they saw their friends die one by one, their determination to fight back got weaker, and they began to look for ways to get away, and this only made the battle easier for her.


Sure enough, a few seconds later, Nymeria captured the perfect opportunity using a feint, and made one of them extend a little too much and be unable to counter her for a moment, leaving his comrade all alone.


And the girl seized that moment perfectly, and immediately began to ruthlessly plummel the other man, and with him being so weakened due to the poison, it only took Nymeria three swift strikes of her spear before his sword was blasted out of his hand, and her spear impaled through his venomous eyes.


"Ha!" Nymeria smirked as she mercilessly yanked her spear out of the dying man and turned around, wanting to deal with the first guy and then go help her father with the Mountain.


But at that exact moment, when she was feeling the most assured, and her guard was at its lowest— Someone struck! Someone who had been waiting for that moment! Someone whom she and everyone else had already considered done for...


...


There aren't many things in this world that Amory Lorch could proudly say that he was good at.


He was not a very good fighter; he could not ride in a tourney to save his life, he couldn't do Archery, he was not very strong, his stamina was shit, and he was, safe to say, gifted with the ugliest of mugs the gods had ever given a human.


But if there was one thing—one skill that he could be proud of, something he had always worked hard to improve, then it would be his ability to kill with a knife.


He could still vaguely remember that day when he was just a young guard working at Lannisport and saw an unruly sellsword somehow take down a fully armoured knight using just a small dagger.


He, of course, got taken down by the other guards soon enough, but still, that sight had impressed the young Lorch so much that he decided then and there that he wanted to be able to do that too.


And to his surprise, he found that it was something he was actually good at. For once in his life, he could learn a skill by just putting a small amount of effort into it.


So the man put even more effort into it, hoping that one day, the skill would become useful and save his life in a tough spot.


But who would have known that he would be taken out in this battle, that would probably be the last one of his life, before he could even show off that he was not a completely useless person?


Then, as he was trying to helplessly crawl away from the fight, hoping to somehow disappear before the enemies noticed him missing, he came across the miserable man who had been killed immediately with a knife to his neck.


And at that moment, feeling the profound feeling of exhaustion as the poison slowly sapped the remaining strength in his body, Lorch finally gave up, realising that trying to run was just a delusion... that this would probably be the place where he would die.


So knowing that there was no hope for him to survive, his mind firmed up, and he decided that his final act would be retribution against these bastards.


He grabbed the knife out of the dead man, slowly crawled to a rock, sat up against it and then began to look around with his blurry eyes to find his target.


Noticing that both the girl with shield and the cowardly archer were too far away for him to reach, and that the Dornish prince will be taken care of by the Mountain sooner or later, he decided to set his eyes on the girl with the spear, but he found her to be too vigilant, and knowing that with his current strength, it would be useless unless it was a sneak attack, he decided to wait.


So he waited... and waited...


And sure enough, his patience eventually paid off as he finally chanced upon the perfect opportunity, and then, without hesitating for a single moment, he hurled the knife in his hand with all his remaining strength straight at the Dornish girl's face while, 'Die you bitch!!'


'Pity, I won't get to play with her,' Lorch thought in disappointment as the last of his strength left him and his body tumbled to the ground, unable to see the result of his attack, as his consciousness began to slowly leave him, 'And damn, she was so pretty too,'


...


'Shit!' Nymeria only noticed the sneak attack when it was less than three inches from her face, but the girl had always been very nimble, and had the reflexes of a cat so even in this dangerous situation, she managed to turn her head at the very last moment, and instead of knife taking her eye, it left just a nick on her cheek.


But unfortunately, this manoeuvre left her completely unbalanced, and her other opponent, who was already half dead, happened to be in the exact position to take advantage of her vulnerability, and even in his current useless state, the man did not miss the chance that god had presented him with.


"ARGH!" The man roared with a deranged look on his face as he stabbed his sword at the girl's chest with all his might.


Her spear was too far away, her body had just dodged a deadly attack, so at that moment, Nymeria was completely out of options and could only watch helplessly as death approached her.


"NYMERIA! NO!" Sarella, who had just taken care of her opponent and was catching her breath for a few seconds, happened to catch sight of that moment and screamed heartbreakingly at the sight of her sister's certain demise.


But while everyone else was powerless to intervene, there was someone who was not...


His arrow arrived at the perfect moment and slammed into the neck of the attacker, depriving his attack of its strength, as he helplessly stumbled drunkenly to the ground while holding his neck with a stupefied expression on his face.


'Phew! Just in the nick of time,' Jon breathed in relief as he slightly lowered his bow.


Ever since he had mistakenly raised that bloody death flag a few minutes ago, Jon had been waiting for something exactly like this to happen.


He had been patient, and he had been vigilant, constantly scanning the other battles every few seconds while dealing with his own enemies.


So it had not been particularly hard for him to capture that dangerous moment when Nymeria was in danger, and fortunately enough, he already had an arrow nocked in his bow about to take the life of his last enemy, so with just a simple change in the angle, he managed to rescue the girl and avert the inevitable death flag.


'Take that! You fucking omnipotent—'


But before the emotion of joy could even settle in Jon's brain, a second disaster struck... a disaster that he was not fast enough to avert.


...


Hearing his daughter's tragic scream had shaken Oberyn to his very core, and like any normal father, his reaction was also immediate and reflexive as his head snapped towards her with an alarmed look on his face.


Thankfully, though, before panic could fully set in, he saw her being saved by Jon's arrow, making his tensed nerves relax, but then, in the very moment, all his hair stood up as he realised what he had done, 'Oh, shit!'


A second...


Just a single second...


That was the amount of time that Oberyn had been distracted because of his daughters, but that was exactly the lapse that Mountain had been waiting all this time for...


"DIE!!!" The Mountain screamed in an enraged voice as he swung his sword with all the strength that he could muster in his kneeling position.


Even at this deadly moment, Oberyn displayed his top-notch reflexes and somehow managed to raise his spear to block at the very last moment.


But this hasty block may as well not have been there, as even in this weakened form, the sheer force of the Mountain's strike bent the shaft of Oberyn's spear, and smashed into his chest and sent him rolling away until he slammed into a rock and came to an abrupt, painful halt.


"UGH!" Oberyn coughed and wheezed, feeling as if his chest had been crushed; even regular breathing had become hard for him at the moment.


But knowing how dangerous the moment was, the Dornishman tried to push through the pain, and hurt, and even though he couldn't even open his eyes fully without getting disoriented, he tried to push himself to stand up as his hand automatically searched for his spear, but halfway through, his body jerked and he stumbled back into the ground, his mind slipping in and out of consiousness, 'Damn it! Get up!'


"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Jon cursed with a panicked expression on his face, as the battle that had been going so well for them suddenly turned so deadly, 'How the hell did it come to this?!'


///

 

[Invincible_God]

This is what happens when the sand snakes get involved.

 

[Anren]

Hooray, we killed everyone and even lost Martell, great, just great. Never liked Dornishmen.

 

[ATP]

Hooray, we killed everyone and even lost Martell, great, just great. Never liked Dornishmen.

Click to shrink...

Well,for Dorne maybe it would be better.He was too reckless.

 

[LazyWizard]

Oberyn lay crumpled on the ground like a sack of potatoes, coughing and wheezing, trying desperately to draw breath from his lungs that were having a hard time performing with the sudden compression of their living space.


That single unguarded hit he had taken from the Mountain had almost done him in, showing that even in his half-dead state, that monster's strength was not something a human can handle.


'Damn it! Don't give up on me yet!' Oberyn cursed at his trembling body as he tried to force through the pain and muster up the strength to get back up and finish the battle that he had almost won.


Fortunately for Oberyn, he was not the only one down on his luck, as that last strike had contained almost all the strength that the Mountain could muster, and immediately after he had dished it out, his strength left him, and the poison flared back up like never before leaving him too drained to take advantage of his attack and kill his enemey while he was at its weakest.


So now both men were wasted and on their knees, and whoever managed to get up first would be the winner.


But unfortunately for Obyern, few people in the world could match the Mountain in terms of endurance, and even with the poison running roughshod throughout his body, the man somehow managed to gather the strength to slowly but surely get up.


"ARGH!!" The Mountain roared angrily as if trying to scare his body into obeying his wishes, and it... was actually working, as he rose up like a slumbering giant, leaning his weight on his great sword, and after just a few deep breaths, he began to walk towards Oberyn with a murderous rage in his eyes.


'Shit! Shit! Shit! How the hell did it come to this?!' Jon cursed at this sudden turn of events, as he hurriedly turned his bow away from his last opponent, who was still stubbornly holding onto his shield like a turtle and refusing to die, and began to shoot his arrows at the Mountain, trying to halt his forward momentum.


But he may as well not have shot them for all the good his arrows did...


He didn't know if it was sheer adrenaline or just innate resilience that the beast was born with, but the man simply raised his armoured hand in front of his face and completely ignored the arrows hitting his body as if they were a mere nuisance, and continued on his way unbothered.


And while Jon knew that the monster was probably wearing the thickest armour that was possible for a man to wear and walk, he had hoped that he would still be able to feel some pain from his sharp arrows, but no, the beast continued his maddened stride towards his enemy, completely unfazed.


'Fuck!!' Jon cursed in frustration as, for the first time in his life, he felt that his archery skills, which he had been so proud of before, were completely useless against an enemy, and though it was only because of his urgency to protect someone and his desire to capture the enemy alive... it still left him a bit stifled.


Thankfully, Sarella arrived at that exact moment, giving Jon a much-needed reprieve.


"No! Wait!! Leave him to me!" he shouted at the girl to prevent her from running towards the Mountain. Instead, he pointed her towards his last opponent, "You take care of him," he ordered and then, without waiting for her reply, he immediately took off towards Oberyn, discarding his bow and quiver along the way, and instead drew his sword from its sheath.


The girl hesitated only for a few seconds before she decided to follow Jon's order, as she knew that with her skill with the sword, there was not much she could do against the Mountain, especially considering the thick armour she was up against.


So even though it frustrated her very much, she decided not to interfere in that fight and to leave her Father's fate in Jon's capable hands, and went to deal with Jon's last opponent, which was much more in line with her ability.


Besides, it would not be too late for her to join the fight once she had dealt with her opponent, and her sister Nymeria should also have recovered from her sudden death shock by then, and the sisters could then look for an opportunity to sneak attacks on the Mountain... but for now, she had an enemy to kill.


'Fuck! Slow down! You beast!' Jon inwardly cursed as he saw the Mountain single-mindedly marching towards Oberyn as if the Dornishman was the only one he could see, and unfortunately for Jon, Oberyn still hadn't recovered, and seemed to be having trouble breathing, with his hands only now unconsciously reaching towards his bent spear as if he was hoping to defend against the Mountain with it.


Thankfully, Oberyn did not have to try his luck with that broken spear as Jon managed to jump in front of him just in the nick of time.


"Your opponent is—" Jon began to announce heroically, but his opponent was not in the mood to listen to his declaration.


"Get the fuck out of my way!!" The Mountain snarled as he swatted his sword furiously at the cowardly archer who had been annoying him with his arrows from afar, wanting to take down this weak boy with a single strike.


'Damn! That's rude!' Jon inwardly grumbled at being so blatantly underestimated, but his body did not stop as he agilely ducked down, dodging the dangerous great sword, and then immediately retaliated against the hand holding the weapon with his own sword, wanting to continue the work that Obyern had been doing all this time.


'Fuck! Not Again!' The Mountain thought frustratedly, as the annoying bug that he had considered to be just a worthless archer kept on dodging all his deadly attacks in an eerily similar way to the Dornish prince before him, making Gregor almost doubt himself, wondering if he really was not as strong as he considered himself to be, if this kind of random archer could run circles around him.


"ARGH! Why don't you just die!!" The Mountain screamed as he drew even more strength from who knows where and placed all his might into his attacks, making his sword almost disappear due to its sheer speed.


'Fuck! This is dangerous!' Jon thought as he desperately weaved between the ogres' attacks, with every one of them being life-threatening.


For the first time in a while, Jon was fighting a battle where his life was genuinely on the line, where a single mistake, a single stumble over an unnoticed pebble... could cost him his life.


It was only now that he himself was up against him that Jon finally realised what kind of monster Oberyn had been dealing with all this time.


It took a lot of skill, mental fortitude and especially guts to remain calm and react accurately amidst this storm of deadly strikes, especially as the Mountain grew angrier and intensified his attack. Jon felt as if he could barely hold on, let alone find opportunities to strike back.


He had always considered himself to an elite warrior and even felt that perhaps he was a little bit better than Oberyn in combat, but now... now Jon understood that without his handy bow, he did not have that much of an advantage against the Dornishman, that pehaps he had underestimated the might that the warriors, who were at the top in this world, could unleash when they were at their peak... when their lives were on the line.


Thankfully, he wouldn't have to deal with this alone for long, as he could see Oberyn's figure slowly rising from the corner of his eyes, so soon he would have a helper, which should make it much easier to— 'Shit!!'


It seems that Jon was not the only one who noticed Oberyn's looming resurgence, as the Mountain suddenly decided that it was just too dangerous to continue to be entangled with the archer and that it would be much better if he dealt with the downed enemy first.


So, from attack mode, the Mountain abruptly went into defence mode as he began to slowly move towards Oberyn while only deflecting or defending against the attacks from Jon that could kill him, and completely ignored the rest.


And this made Jon very desperate, as it was one thing for him to deal with a Mountain with all his focus on defeating him, and quite another to deal with him while protecting a downed ally, as in the first situation, he could evade as much as he wanted, nullifying most of his strength advantage, but in the second scenario... well, his might and endurance will fully come into play in that situation.


So if he wanted Oberyn to not end up like his counterpart in the original timeline, then Jon had to work harder, make his attacks deadlier, focus on only going for the vital points such as the eyes, and the throat where there was no armour, making the Mountain believe that he was trying to kill him for real, so that he becomes more hesitant.


But this forced Jon to close the distance between them, increasing the risk for him by a lot, as at a smaller proximity, the Mountain's attacks became much more devastating, making the margin for error even smaller.


In fact, in barely half a minute since the Mountain decided to go for Oberyn, Jon had already come close to getting seriously injured over three times, only managing to dodge at the last moment after taking a few superficial cuts.


So with his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, Jon finally realised that he could actually die here and decided that it was time to put all his cards on the table, without worrying about how he was going to explain himself later.


He had cut off his connection to Frost before his fight with the Mountain, as he had felt at that moment that he would need his complete mental acuity to deal with this Monster, but it now became a hindrance for him as he would have to restart the connection if he wanted to call for reinforcement.


In the blink of an eye, almost one fifth of his mind disappeared inside of Frost, but just as he was about use the link to order his friend to launch her indiscriminatory scream attack from high above, without caring about hurting him and his allies along with their enemy(as he did not have time to use ear protection), his momentarily distraction cost him dearly...


Because the Mountain just happened to be unusually focused at that particular moment, and noticed the distracted gleam in Jon's eyes. Without even thinking about it for an instant, his body instinctively responded by sending a devastating swipe of his great sword at his enemy's vulnerable moment, "ARGH! DIE!"


'Fuck!!' Jon was caught completely off guard and panicked for the first time in this fight. His eyes narrowed to pinpricks as he looked at the deadly greatsword heading towards his body.


Almost immediately, Jon realised that he could not fully dodge that attack, and that he would have to sacrifice at least one of his hands to get away.


But since he was wearing top-quality light but sturdy armour that had been made especially for him by little Tom using the best techniques he had learned from all over Weseteros, he was obviously not going to get any permanent damage. Still, even with the armour's protection, he was sure to suffer at least a fracture, which would make that hand completely useless for the rest of the fight.


And this liability, he knew, could easily cost him this fight and his life, considering who he was up against.


But at that moment of life and death, when he knew that the danger to him was real, his mind's concentration peaked like never before...


And reacting instinctively to the threat, his spirit reacted instinctively and pulled back all its scattered parts lying outside, even those that had been hidden deeply inside Frost's mind that he had completely forgotten about. All those parts converged fully inside his mind for the first time since he began to warg in his childhood, and in its haste his consciousness brought something extra along on its return journey... leading to a wondrous miscalculation.


It would have been hard for Jon to describe what he was feeling at that moment...


It felt as if a large part of his mind that had never been used before had suddenly been unlocked for him; his brain felt bloated but somehow even more nimble and responsive than before.


It felt to him that minutes or maybe even hours had passed in his mind before he finally stopped being fascinated by the bizarre phenomenon he was experiencing, and started to understand what was actually happening to him.


It seems that at that particular life and death moment, when his mind had aggressively regathered and brought pieces of Frost's spirit along with it into his own mind, an accidental bond had been forged, one that was similar in essence but almost completely opposite to the warg connection he had before.


If earlier, he simply sent a piece of his spirit into Frost to forge a connection to control her and send her commands through his thoughts, then this time, while his own mind stayed fully inside his head, a small part of empty space had been occupied by Frost's spirit, establishing a new kind of connection for the first time.


Now, this did not mean that Frost was now somehow controlling him, because no, her mind was too simple for that kind of operation.


No, the connection this time was different, as instead of giving Jon access to Frost's various extraordinary senses, it gave him a key to utilise all her brain's numerous capabilities.


And while her brain was a bit primitive compared to a human's, there were some specific functions that the brain of an animal, especially of a magical bird species like Frost's, was far better suited to do than a human mind could ever hope for.


These tasks include, but are not limited to, processing all kinds of visual information precisely and at lightning speed, with every single detail in his field of view being retained, instead of performing like before, where most of the details had been deemed 'useless'.


Jon had read in his past life somewhere that a human's sensory system gathers about 1 billion bits of information per second, with the subconscious mind only able to process about 10 bits per second. And now Jon had acquired the capability to process almost half of that massive information previously considered useless.


So, while Jon's visual hardware(his eyes) remained the same, the processing power available to him, especially for breaking down the dynamic motion happening in his surroundings in real-time, had increased exponentially.


What he essentially got, in layman's terms, was... Bullet Time.


The same bullet time that was always being mentioned in movies and novels all over the world as a marvellous combat skill, which allows one to feel as if they had the law of time under their control...


Of course, in truth, it was all in their head, and the flow of time does not actually change.


So while he may have felt a lot of time pass as he processed his new skill, in reality, not even a millisecond had passed by, and the deadly strike from the Mountain was still heading towards him.


But this time, Jon was completely serene as he watched the great sword approaching him, feeling as if he had all the time in the world to think up a solution to his predicament.


And it did not take him long to figure out that with just a small adjustment of his body posture and by hitting the Mountain's greatsword at just the right angle with his weapon, even without using too much force, he could change the trajectory of the sword just enough for it to harmlessly pass him by.


And that is exactly what he did...


His body moved fluidly and dodged seamlessly, tracing the exact path that he had envisioned in his mind, with the greatsword unable to even touch a corner of his clothes.


His abrupt manoeuvre staggered the Mountain, who had been quite sure that this would be the strike that would bring down the annoying archer.


Sadly, the infamous knight of Westerlands did not even get time to ponder over this sudden turnabout, as in the very next moment, the shadow of a sword appeared out of nowhere and slammed into the armour on the back of his head with the force of a hammer, leaving him momentarily stunned.


'Thankfully, that wasn't a one-time thing,' Jon thought with relief, as he watched everything still happening in slow motion around him, as if a video had been slowed down to *0.1x speed, with every single detail appearing crystal clear, 'But who knows how long this will last, so better not waste it...'


With his new ability, Jon began to completely and irrevocably overwhelm the Mountain like never before, with every single one of his attacks moving through paths that seemed very bizarre from the outside, but somehow were always able to dodge around the greatsword and accurately hit his target.


'What the fuck is happening?!' The Mountain thought furiously as again and again the bastard archer's sword hit his head, making him so angry that his eyes turned red and the veins in his head almost burst open.


But no matter how furious his attacks were, they were completely useless as the archer seemed like a completely different warrior than he had been a few moments ago; it was as if the soul of Arthur Dayne had descended into this boy, making every attack of his precise, fluid, and almost... inevitable.


Jon was feeling more ecstatic at that moment than he had ever before in his life. This uplifting feeling of having everything under his control was very addictive; it made him feel as if he were a god, and the warrior before him, a mere mortal.


The moment that Mountain's arm twitched and before his weapon even started to move properly, Jon could easily deduce where the sword was intended to strike, and from there it was effortless for him to see the attack's weakness and then move his sword along the path that offered him the least resistance to his fixed target, the Mountain's head, which even if covered with an armour, could only take so many hits.


This bizarre sight left the girls, who had finally dealt with their enemies and were just about to come help him, so amazed that their steps subconsiously slowed down, and then they just stood in their places staring at Jon, moving around one of the strongest fighters in Westeros as if he were dealing with a child.


The fight hapening before them gave them the illusion that the Northern boy could somehow predict the future... as if every single move of his enemy was under his control, or else how could one explain his ability to move in such a strange way, as if the enemy's sword was deliberately avoiding him, as if the enemy was willingly providing his head to him so that he could get hit every few seconds...


It felt less like a fight between warriors and more like a training session between a brutal mentor and a particularly dumb student...


"Stop! STOP!!" Mountain screamed in agony, anger and even a little bit of plea, as the man was once again hit on his head, leaving his brain so scrambled that he couldn't tell left from right.


The knight had never felt more helpless in his life... he couldn't run, couldn't dodge, and didn't even have the option to endure a few hits to retaliate, as the bastard would just dodge no matter how fast his attacks were.


And the situation only worsened for him as this time, instead of from the front, he got hit from behind, on the same injured back of his knee that had left him kneeling a few minutes ago.


"ARGH!!" The Mountain cried out in pain and turned around, only to find Oberyn once again standing on his feet, with the bent spear in his hand, breathing just a little heavily, with hate and determination in his eyes, not having decreased by even a little.


"YOU—" He roared furiously, but before he could even finish forming his sentence or think about punishing the Dornishman, he was once again hit on the back of his head by that blasted archer.


This time, seeing him distracted, Jon did not stop after just one successful hit and continued with his assault, swinging his sword left and right, and only stopped hitting when the Mountain turned back to him to defend with his greatsword... only for Oberyn to take advantage of that to attack his knees once again.


"AAHH!!"


And that was how it went, as the two men took turns assaulting the Mountain as if they were hunting a mindless beast, always keeping his focus scattered and never giving him the chance to focus on one of them... almost driving the Mountain mad with anger.


Jon always stayed dangerously close to the Mountain, so that he could easily access his armour-covered head, which was already showing signs of being dented after enduring so many hits, while Oberyn, having not yet fully recovered, stayed some distance away and focused on using the longer reach of his weapon to target the Monster's legs.


"GO... DOWN!!" Oberyn angrily screamed as he attacked again and again, pouring all his frustrations and anger into the bent spear that was almost on the verge of breaking in two.


"DIE! YOU BEAST!!" Jon too hollered as he was swept along into the Dornishman's passionate anger and intensified his attacks, striking almost three times as much as the other man, even though most of Mountain's focus stayed on him.


"NO... Not... like... This..." The Mountain growled as he stumbled, and his legs, finally unable to take any more beating, gave up, bringing him once more to his knees.


Having already gone half delusional from the beatings he had taken to his head, he wildly waved his sword around him while screaming incoherently, but in the end, he was unable to stop the inevitable from happening...


"DIE!!" The two men screamed in unison as their weapons simultaneously slammed into the Mountain's head at the exact same spot, making an audible crack echo through the night.


And finally, after all their efforts... The beast, The Mountain that rides, The Knight who had committed countless atrocities, lost the fight and fell to the ground with a resounding thud...


...


For a few seconds, there was no sound other than the heavy breathing of the two men who still weren't able to extricate themselves from the rush of the dangerous battle and kept on staring intently at their fallen foe, as if expecting him to jump back up at any moment.


"Er, I don't think he is going to get up any time soon," Nymeria's awkward voice came a few seconds later, and finally broke Jon's concentration.


And the moment he lost the tension of the battle, Jon was abruptly yanked out of his special state, and this abrupt loss left him so disoriented and mentally feeble that he had to use his sword as a support to stop himself from falling headfirst into the ground.


"There are... chains in my bag," Jon let out after a brief struggle, his eyes remaining closed as he tried to regain his lost bearing and to push through the aftereffects of his new skill.


"Huh?" Nymeria let out in a confused manner at the random piece of information, but unlike her, Sarella immediately understood what Jon was asking for.


"Right!" Sarella nodded with a serious expression and immediately turned around to go towards the shrub behind which Jon had hidden during their ambush. A few seconds later, she came out carrying long, thin pieces of iron chain that looked very heavy in her delicate hands, "Nym, help me bind him."


"Sure." The girl nodded, finally understanding what the chains had been prepared for, and immediately went to help her sister with the labour-intensive task.


Together, the two sisters slowly and carefully moved the Mountain and wrapped the chains around his large hands and feet, making sure more than once that the bindings were tight enough that the beast could not break free, even with his strength.


And all while the two men remained at guard, standing vigilantly with their weapons tightly gripped in their hands in case danger arose... thankfully, though, the worst-case scenario did not happen, and the Mountain never woke up.


*Thud!!*


The moment Mountain had been fully secured, Oberyn's body lost all its stress, and the adrenaline on which he had been functioning until now finally proved to be insufficient to hold back the injuries he had sustained, and with no sign of danger around, his body gave up and fell straight to the ground.


"Father?!" The two girls cried as they rushed towards Oberyn and immediately knelt beside him, concernedly moving their eyes over his injuries, making sure that there was nothing life-threatening there.


"Father, are you fine?" Sarella asked worriedly, but Oberyn did not seem to have heard his daughter's anxious question; instead, his entire focus was on something behind their heads.


"I did it..." Oberyn muttered softly with unfocused eyes, looking at the night sky as if he was searching for someone, "I finally did it..." he deliriously repeated again and again, until finally he cried with all his might, "I DID IT!!" as if trying to make the twinkling stars above him hear his declaration.


'Yes, you did,' Jon softly acknowledged as he looked away from the shiny tears slowly falling from the eyes of one of the toughest men he had ever known.


A small, relieved smile also appeared on Jon's face at having finally avenged his half-brother and half-sister, whom he never got the chance to meet.


///


If you can't wait to read ahead, then I urge you to go to that magical place where you can get things from the future...

 

[ATP]

well,now they must deliver Mountain,Armory and injured Oberyn to ship.I hope,that they could use horses.

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter.

 

[Senju Mekkyuka]

The mountain has become a multi-phase raid boss... It put up more resistance than the Night King from the series... I can't wait for what's next ^^

 

[oguh]

What a contrived reason to have a boss fight and unlock MC new power up

 

[LazyWizard]

"Now, how are we supposed to deal with all this?" Nymeria asked as she massaged her aching back with a troubled look on her face as pointed towards the mess of dead bodies thrown half-hazardly into a pile, as well as the two prisoners who were snoozing peacefully without a care in the world, as if they were having pleasant dreams.


The end of the battle had not spared them from labour, especially Jon and Nymeria, who were the ones who had to go to all their fallen foes one by one, and run their weapons through their unconscious bodies to make sure that they did not wake up again.


Because quite a few of them had succumbed to the poison instead of being killed by arrows or spears, and since the girls had made sure beforehand that the poison wasn't deadly enough, they had to now go the extra mile just to be sure before they could drag the bodies to the centre.


After all, none of them wanted to experience the stupid feeling of having all their hard work and plan go to waste just because one of their fallen foe managed to wake up... one Amory Lorch revival was enough of a lesson for them.


And while the two of them did that, Sarella had not been spared either, as the young girl was the one who had been given the tiring task of moving the two prisoners away from their comrades and then administering a healthy dose of a newly made poison into their mouths so that they would not wake up until they needed them to be awake.


Unfortunately for them, one of their would-be helper had been retired prematurely, or else their workload might have been a little bit lighter.


That retired warrior was feeling more than a little surreal as he lay against a tree, drinking willow bark tea mixed with some drops of milk of poppy, watching his friend and daughters toiling on his enemies' dead bodies.


Oberyn was feeling very restless at the moment after that fight, and wanted nothing more than to help the other three.


But Jon, using the rudimentary first-aid knowledge he had picked up from listening to Sam during their long days of camping, had diagnosed him with the condition of having two fractured ribs.


Fortunately, though, even with his extensive activities immediately after sustaining this injury, there had been no puncturing of lungs, so he had avoided the worst-case scenario, for which Oberyn was thankful.


But he still needed proper medical assistance, which unfortunately was not available in the middle of nowhere, and neither could they just head towards the nearest healer and ask to be treated without the question of, 'Why is this Dornishman asking me to treat him? And what mishief has injured him?'


So in the end, Jon wrapped his chest with some thin linen to act as support for his ribs, but kept the wrapping loose enough not to constrict his breathing (as he had read somewhere that these kinds of things used to cause Pneumonia in the 18th century) and then relegated the Dornish prince to stationary rest.


And now he sat there on a rock, idly watching his daughters and his Northern friend, tiredly go about doing the dirty work, even after the tiring battle they had been through.


"And more importantly, you still haven't told us how we are going to move our captives out of Westerlands?" Sarella asked as she walked towards the two of them, while wiping her carefully washed hands with a soft cloth that she then immediately discarded. It was a cleaning habit that she had been instilled from a young age to do every time after she had dealt with poison.


"The bodies we can simply burn," Jon replied with a shrug, his eyes half-lidded as if he was forcing himself to not sleep then and there immediately,, "And as for carrying our captives..." he said as a momentary frown appeared on his face before his expression cleared up with a smile, "Well, it will only be a few more minutes before she reaches here... so you will get all your answers then,"


"Who? Who is coming here and—" Nymeria started to ask confusedly, but her sister interrupted her.


"Ugh! Don't even bother asking him," Sarella said with an annoyed groan, "You should know by now how much he loves his mysteries, Nym. Just look at the smug look on his face, you can tell there is no way he is going to give us a straight answer."


"T-That is definitely not true." Jon said with a disgruntled expression, as if repulsed by the thought that he could ever look smug like a third rate villian, "I always try to be truthful as I can be with my words. After all, I am the son of Lord Eddard Stark and—" he said only to hear an unexpected snort and turned to see Oberyn looking at him with an amused expression, which confused him as he wondered why that simple fact would entertain him so much, "So I can't let down my honourable father by lying," he continued subconsiously while turning back to the girl.


"Oho, is that so?" Sarella asked as a small mischievous smile appeared on her face, as if she had been waiting for this, "Then answer me this, Jon 'honourable' Snow: "What was that you did towards the end of the battle? How exactly did you suddenly get so good? Were you holding back from the start?"


"Oh, that, um..." Jon was a bit flustered at that, as his eyes shifted evasively as if he was trying to remember the answer. "Well, er, you could say that it was a sudden enlightenment kind of thing. That's right," his eyes firmed up a bit as his voice went into the unhurried story mode that he used with Arya and Bran when they could not sleep, "At that exact moment of life and death... I was somehow able to remember all the hours that I had spent training in the yard, all my knowledge of fighting that I had been learning since I could walk, culminating in my mind at that moment, making me a much better fighter than before," Jon finished with a satisfied nod while giving her the most overused trope of the Novel MCs in his previous, "It was only an instant but it was very... enlightening," Jon nodded with a far away sage-like look on his eyes.


"Huuuh? W-What does that even—"


"Enough questions about that for now," Jon said, turning away from Sarella while waving his hand, "We really should start gathering the firewood and burn these bodies before they start to smell. So let's not waste any more time." And then, without waiting for their reply, he immediately began moving towards his luggage to take out his handy saw.


"Hmph! I told you he won't tell us the truth," Sarella murmured to Nymeria with a snort as the sisters followed after Jon into the forest, to help him carry the firewood, "Honourable, my ass."


Jon easily ignored the mutterings behind him and focused completely on the task in front of him, wanting to be done with it as soon as possible and move away from this place of death.


After all, who wants to camp in a place surrounded by their dead enemies?


So with him being so enthusiastic, and with there being plenty of dead wood in their surroundings, there was soon a small pile of dry wood at his feet, which left the girls with the simple job of transporting it back to the clearing.


And so with their collective efforts, it only took them ten minutes to have a decent amount of wood covering the heap of bodies. Just about enough for them to be burned beyond any recognition, which should give the four a few days' leeway before the nearby lords learn about this ambush and start placing blockades and checks to search for them.


And in the exact moment they finished, a loud neigh echoed through the clearing, scaring the three Dornish so much that it almost gave all of them a collective heart attack, but before they could panic and reach for their weapons, Jon suddenly turned and exclaimed, "She is here!" with a cheerful smile as he ran towards the voice.


This drained most of the tension in the other three's bodies as they realised it could not be an enemy or a stranger if Jon was so happy about the new arrival.


A few seconds later, an extremely majestic horse burst into the clearing while pulling a big but compact carriage behind her, and without any hesitation, the horse headed straight for Jon while neighing loudly, as the three looked dumbfoundedly at the carriage that was being driven with no driver behind the horse to guide the carriage.


"Peggy!!" Jon called out delightfully as he met his friend halfway and began to run his hand through her lush white hair, and the horse responded equally enthusiastically as she vigorously but gently rubbed her head against Jon's chest, "Did you miss me, girl?"


"EEEH!" The horse replied with a delighted neigh and joyful nod of her head.


It had been more than a few months since Jon had last seen his friend, so safe to say this reunion was more than a bit special.


There were no forseebattle in Essos and with him constantly travelling through free cities mostly on his ships, Jon had not wanted Peggy to suffer from constant sea travel, so he had sent her to Winnterfell where his lovely sisters could care for her properly, but now that he was back in Westeros, and most of his family was out enjoying their vacation, he had called her back to him as there was no one better to take someone discreetly out of Westerlands.


"Um, is this the 'her' you were talking about?" Sarella asked hesitatingly as she and her sister slowly approached Jon, both of them wearing weird expressions on their face, with their eyes constantly searching the carriage as if expecting a hidden driver to jump out at any moment, but the carriage remained empty and with the warm scene in front of her, Sarella was finally forced to believe that the one Jon was talking about earlier was in fact... just a horse.


"Of course she is," Jon replied with a bright smile, as though all of his exhaustion had vanished simply by reconnecting with his close friend, "Martells! Meet Pegasus, the best and smartest horse in the world," he praised and the horse in question immediately raised her head in pride as if she could understand him, but when Jon did not continue she nudged him with a leading look in her eyes, "Oh, and of course, not to forget the fastest in the world," he added with wry smile as the horse finally looked satisfied.


The three from Dorne exchanged bewildered expression with each other at the strange exchange happening in front of them, before Oberyn step forward and, as the one most immune among them to odd things happening because of Jon, asked him directly, "Is this our ride out of here?" while glancing skeptically at the carriage that looked a bit too small to hold all four of them, not to mention their two prisoners.


"Yes," Jon simply nodded as he walked towards the back of the carriage, "But just for the two of us, and the two prisoners."


Ignoring the obvious question of how this carriage arrived here without any driver, Sarella asked the question that mattered more to her, "And what about the other two? How will they be getting back?" She sounded really nervous, as if almost dreading the answer.


"Well, of course, the same way we arrived here, on foot," he replied with a shrug as he opened the door to the carriage and began to drag out a large cube box made completely out of wood, with a big hole at the top, and before the other could ask about it, he pulled out another similar one out of the carriage, this one even bigger than the first.


"And what are these?" Nymeria asked curiously as she came closer and looked inside the opening on the top, only to see an intricate maze of metal locks that seemed designed to hold something the size of a human wrist.


"These... are our on-the-go prisons," Jon replied while proudly patting the boxes beside him, "They are compact boxes specially created to carry people inside them long term, with their being no chance of escaping."


The girls immediately began inspecting the strange contraption with curiosity in their eyes, and even Oberyn came over gingerly and slowly to see the so-called on-the-go prison.


"These look quite professionally made," Sarella mused out loud after a while, "Not a rush job, but as if someone regularly designs these boxes that make it impossible for the captive to exert even one per cent of their usual strength," she stated as she looked up at Jon.


"Of course, that was the whole point." Jon replied with a shrug, 'After all, one can never be careful when their enemy is a beast like the Mountain.'


"You must have been a trusted customer to get something like this assembled... especially considering that these look custom-made with our prisoners' exact sizes in mind. And only repeat buyers would get privileges like that, right?" Sarella continued with a raised eyebrow, "So tell me, Jon, how many like these have you brought before?" she asked with her eyes narrowed as if wondering if he had a devious hobby of capturing people this way and then torturing them.


"Yeah, right, I have a secret prision full of my enemies hidden away somewhere, and I regularly go there on full moon nights to enjoy watching them suffer," Jon replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, but then he saw the strange way that the Dornish family was looking at him and realised that they were actually judging him and immediately backtraced, "I am jesting of course. Why would I need something like that? I don't even have that many enemies. This was just something that I found out from a hidden expert in King's Landing."


"Hidden expert? Who?" Sarella had obviously been teasing him before, as she knew enough about Jon from those weeks spent on the ship that he was not the kind of person capable of doing something like this, that only the most heinous of people like the Mountain deserved, to innocents.


But now she was more curious about this so-called hidden expert hidden in King's Landing who was capturing his enemies in a box.


Jon looked quite reluctant to answer at first, but then he saw the inquisitive look also present in the eyes of the other two and decided that it was a harmless piece of knowledge anyway. "The one who commands little birds to do his bidding," Jon answered with a secretive smile on his face.


"Huh? Birds?" The girls let out confusedly, as having rarely gone to mainland Westeros, they were not very familiar with the deeper intricacies involved in the politics of King's Landing's upper echelons, but Oberyn's eyes immediately widened in realisation.


"Varys, huh?" Oberyn murmured with scorn in his eyes, "If it's that rat, then I guess it's understandable that he would use something like this regularly."


After all, anyone even a little familiar with the Essosi spymaster's usual tactics would know that there were few things that man, or rather the eunuch, would not do to achieve his goals.


"Varys? The Master of Whisperers?" Sarella asked, to which Oberyn nodded distractedly.


Oberyn had gotten quite familiar with all kinds of atrocities that could be directly or indirectly attributed to the man's machinations from when Westeros was still under the Targaryen reign and the Martells were still in on all the happenings in King's Landing.


In fact, the Dronishman knew that the only reason the eunuch survived the new king and would probably continue to survive any future ones was that he was too bloody damn useful and efficient at the job he did, with there being no suitable replacement available, and no King wanted to lose his eyes and ears, unless it was absolutely necessary.


"Yeah, Varys," Jon replied with a hint of disgust in his voice, "That man regularly transports humans as if they were goods between Essos and Westeros, using boxes similar to these,"


Jon had seen close hand the various torturous conditions the spider liked keeping innocent men, women and especially children in, their only fault being that they were considered unruly and disobedient by him or his partner.


He had, of course, already known that the man was not a normal human without a modicum of morality, considering he kept a legion of mutilated children under his command, but he had not expected how depraved the man actually was and how many cruelties the man casually inflicted on those below him on a daily basis.


It was only when he had been stuck with the dilemma of transporting their two prisoner and recalling the scene of Varys showing Tyrion his hated enemy stuffed inside a box, that he had imposed close surveillance on the man to find his box supplier, but the things he had witnessed along the way had almost enraged him to take his life then and there, consequences be damned.


But he controlled himself in the end as he knew that he could not be hasty, because men like him, the ones who serve the Royal family, especially the likes of Baratheon or rather the Lannister royal family, are sure to understand that death is always close by.


That a sword could come swinging at him from around the corner at any moment, and just a momentary irritation towards him was enough for people above him to want him gone.


Especially people like Cersei and Jeffery, who are reckless, fearless and stupid enough to never think about the consequences of killing anyone.


So Jon was absolutely sure that he must have a secret contingency plan in place in case of a sudden, unnatural death—a plan that would spell doom for all of his enemies or, at the very least, ruin every single one of their ambitions.


And considering the amount of knowledge this man possesses about all kinds of secrets of the various noble Lords and Ladies in Westeros, it wouldn't be hard for him to destabilise Westeros enough to cause an immediate war, and with the man's low moral compass, he was sure to spare no one.


In fact, the exact same thing could be said of his rival Baelish, as he, too, was cunning and vengeful enough to have similar ploys in place.


Looking deeper, this must have also been one of the reasons that those two were not trying their hardest to kill the other, as no one understood the danger the other represented better than themselves.


But Jon was certain that it would not take long for him to have enough manpower and control to be able to take care of those two leeches and still be able to make Westeros weather through whatever plans they had in place, largely unharmed.


For now, though those were distant worries, and at the moment, the most important thing for them was to leave the Westerlands.


"Now, enough about this box," Jon said with a shake of his head to clear his thoughts and come back to the present. "Let's talk about the two teams," he said as he turned to Oberyn with a pondering expression, "Considering you are injured, you will obviously be one of the two to leave on the carriage," he declared to which the Viper nodded but with a look of reluctance as the hated the felling of being an invalid, especially in a hostile land.


"And since I am the only one who properly knows our way back, I will be leading the team on foot, so..." Jon turned towards the girls with a raised eyebrow, "Choose among yourselves on who will go with whom."


"Oh, I'll go with you," Nymeria jumped up and immediately her hand with a bright smile.


"...Fine, then," Jon nodded slowly, a little taken aback by her sudden eagerness to travel on foot, but then he shook his head, deciding to attribute it to her innate weirdness and went to do the heavy lifting task of moving the prisoners into their new homes, where they'll be staying until they reach their destination of Dorne.


"Why?" The moment Jon and Oberyn were out of earshot, Sarella turned to her sister and whispered in a suspicious voice, her eyes narrowed in doubt, "Why were you so keen to go alone with Jon?"


"Well... aren't you much better at making poison than I am? So I thought it would be safer if you were the one travelling with the prisoners... after all, who knows if they suddenly woke up midway and needed another dose?" Nymeria said all that with a wide-eyed, innocent look on her face as if her intention were very pure, but her sister did not miss the shady gleam hidden in her eyes.


Sarella examined her sister silently for a few seconds before she abruptly grabbed her hand and yanked her into a nearby bush.


"What do you think you're doing?" Sarella asked in an irate whisper.


"What are you talking about?" Nymeria replied in a voice that sounded wronged, as if she was completely clueless, "I am doing nothing—"


"You think I don't know how your mind works, you slut?! You want to eat him up, do you not?!"


"Whaaat?! How could you think so little of your sister? I would never do something so—"


"Oh, stop pretending! You have been making googly eyes at him ever since he defeated you. Your intentions were as obvious as a dog in heat!"


"...Fine! I admit I like the boy and want to do some naughty things with him. But what's wrong with that?" Nymeria said with a casual shrug and an unabashed expression on her face, "It's not like I would have to force him. I am sure he would like it very, very much..." she said in a slow sensual voice, "After all, who could deny a beauty like me?" she asked haughtily, "And besides, do you not think that he deserves a reward for all the hard work he went through for us? And what prize could be better than me, huh?"


"Uh..." This single sentence left Sarella completely dumbfounded, as only her sister could be so shameless as to say something like that. But the girl could not deny that there was an undeniable truth in the fact that her sister was a beautiful woman with enough curves that only a eunuch would deny her.


"And think about it... Do you really want to travel through the forest once again... after all this ordeal, when you could rest your delicate body on the carriage and take a well-deserved rest?"


"Ugh, you got me there," Sarella replied with a small pout, as she could not deny that her body was screaming in desire for rest and sleep at the moment, but still, she could hide the hint of envy in her voice.


"Oi! Why is it taking you so long? What are you doing in there? Did you not find my bag yet?" Jon's voice suddenly called out confusedly, having simply assumed that the girls had gone to bring the fire starter in his luggage to burn the bodies.


"Coming!!"


...


A few minutes later, the four of them stood in front of the carriage, in which the two box-filled prisoners had already been placed, watching a great fire burn the bodies of their enemies inside the clearing as the wind blew away the smelly black into the sky, where it immediately disappeared in the darkness.


"That should be enough," Jon nodded as he looked at the bodies burned beyond recognition with a satisfied expression, and then turned back to his horse, "Peggy, be a little gentle on the road out, aye? You have someone injured in the carriage," he whispered, and the horse immediately nodded her head in understanding.


The journey from here to the nearest port would take less than half a day, even when taking it slow, and since Peggy was well rested at the moment, she should be able to travel all night and take them to their destination before sunrise.


"You two can rest easy and sleep in the carriage without concern," Jon said as he looked at Oberyn and Sarella. "Peggy, here is very smart and knows the way very well, so you will not even need to stay awake for the watch. And my men will be waiting for you a few kilometres away from the port, and will take you the rest of the way through to the ship completely unchecked, so don't worry."


Money worked wonders in this world, especially in a small, remote port like this, where the portmasters rarely earned more than a few coins, so they were more than willing to accept an extra under-the-table income to line their pockets, uncaring of what was being smuggled out of their area.


Even Jon had been left dumbfounded when he had been told the pitifully small amount it had taken for their goods to pass unharrassed.


"Anyone I know?" Oberyn asked curiously while climbing up, as he had spent quite a while with Jon's company, so he was wondering if there was anyone familiar among the ones picking them up.


"The Advisor," Jon answered with a smile.


"Oh...you called that man from Essos," Oberyn said with a reminiscent look in his eyes, as he had been quite impressed with the Volantisi captain's wits and capability during their time in the East.


"Yes. During my time here in Westeros, all my ships are under him." Jon replied with a shrug, "After all, my next stop is King's Landing, and I needed someone smart to handle my affairs there."


"For the so-called Tourney, huh?" Oberyn looked at him with a rueful look on his face, "I really wanted to join in the fun with you in the Capital, ah..." he said as he shook his head regretfully.


"Perhaps, next time," Jon smiled as he took a few steps back along with Nymeria to give the carriage some room, "See you soon then."


"Soon," Oberyn raised his hand farewell, and Sarella too waved her hand as the carriage slowly began to move and then disappeared into the night, back on the way it had arrived from, an hour ago.


"Let us leave too, then," Jon said as he picked up his luggage and turned towards the direction of the forest.


"Let's go then, I am ready," Nymeria said with a bizarre anticipation in her voice, as she immediately began to walk out of the clearing, but after just a few steps, she suddenly noticed something, turned around only to see Jon stopped after taking the first step, staring around him with a dazed look on his face, "Huh, what's wrong?"


"...Why do I feel like I am forgetting something important?" Jon mumbled with a frown on his face.


...


Meanwhile, unknown to the four, a deshelved old servant half-ran, half-stumbled through the forest as if he were hunted by wolves.


'I...have...to get...away. I have to...' his every breath was as painful as a sword through his chest, and his lungs felt as if they were being burned by fire, but he still did not dare to give up, because what he saw today was just too far beyond a commoner like him.


And if those people actually succeeded, which actually had a high chance of happening, considering they used poison and ambush, then he was very much done for...


'No, it's good if they die. If they all die, then no one will know about it. The world will be a better place without them,' he thought as his steps slowly slowed down, 'Perhaps I can go back to my family...' he thought for a hopeful few seconds, before he brutally slapped himself, 'No! That would be idiotic! Sooner or later, the news of their demise is sure to spread. And then... they are definitely going to learn that I was part of the group, so I can absolutely not stay here... I have to run away.


He still remembered being on the verge of death at the hands of his own master's greatsword, only to be saved by an arrow at the last moment. At that moment, with the survival instincts he had cultivated living as a smallfolk in Clegane's territory, his body had responded immediately, and he had run away without looking back, knowing that it was the only way for him to survive.


'...No, I can't run away alone. Knowing the Lord's cruel nature, my family is sure to suffer if they somehow learn about me, uncaring about their innocence. So I need to hurry and take them away from here as soon as possible,' he thought and immediately began moving with determination in his eyes.


'Riverlands! That should be the place,'


And thankfully, he was the one in charge of keeping their party's gold, and now that his Master was already probably dead, the money was his to spend as he wished. 'After all, it's not like the Mountain will mind,'


...

 

[ATP]

Well,forgetting about servant...very aristocratic thing to do.
But - i really do not undarstandt,how lone horse with carriage could go through Westeros without human.Well,probably teleported,like Tywin his armies in book.