[Chapter Size: 3800 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Bear Island, 300 AC.

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Panis advanced crushing everything in front of him to trample beneath his hooves — he didn’t even look down to confirm what it was. Jon kept Blackfyre steady in his hand, the blade itself reflecting the green light created by the flames of the wildfire.

Before the ironborn could attack Jon, surrounded as he broke through the enemy’s first line of defense, more Arcticans joined the king soon after.

And then the force of the Arctican cavalry struck the enemy immediately afterward, Jon could feel the impact coming from both sides pushing the enemy back at once.

The shield wall simply could not withstand it. The sound was like a giant wave crashing against a cliff face.

Hundreds of horses surged all around Jon, pushing the enemy more and more while Jon could feel the path in front of him opening, amid screams of pain and despair.

“Hold the formation!!”

“Keep it steady!!”

The shouts of someone trying to retake command after they had lost Victarion, which they were failing at miserably. Jon could see their fear, they had lost their commander to a giant eagle that appeared out of nowhere, how could they take that as something normal.

Jon merely narrowed his eyes and kept advancing, those men had already lost their wall, now it was time to destroy them completely.

“Advance, show them that the last act of their lives was thinking they could do whatever they wanted in the North!” Jon took advantage, while crushing more men without resistance with his armored horse, he raised his voice for all the ironborn to hear, further breaking the morale of those men.

The sound of horses continued, the horseshoes and armor on the horses striking almost at the same time against wood, flesh, and metal. Behind Jon, as more and more Arctican horses entered the enemy line, the shields kept being pushed back against the very chests of the men holding them, crushing ribs.

The spearmen easily found openings between the shield wall, trained for this in the kingdom for years, weakening any resistance as it was stabbed by the tip of a spear.

Arrows also flew constantly against the Arcticans, after the ironborn recovered somewhat from the attack with flames, but it was impossible to stop them, few arrows struck any vital point of the horses or men, the vast majority struck against the eldenmetal armor on the horses.

From the view of the castle, the Mormont soldiers and men saw the Arctican horses piercing through with ease just as a river runs through a dry ditch, without resistance, without delay, that line of horses kept advancing until the last lines of men trying to stop that madness.

“By the old gods… What are we witnessing…” The master-at-arms stared at a kind of cavalry he had never seen in his life.

“…” Even Lyanna did not know how to express herself about that. The men and women of Bear Island are brave and worth 10 men from the mainland, she used to say, but that even threw her bravery to the ground, those 1000 horses advanced without fear against the enemy, even with that giant eagle appearing, they were now crushing the men who had been making Lyanna’s life, her sister’s, and everyone else’s, a living hell.

Not to mention what they did to the people outside the walls who could not manage to hide.

While the flames still burned with many of the ironborn still screaming in pain as they were burned for standing too close, the defensive line of that area also collapsed inward on itself, with the final arrival of the thousand riders forcing their way through the entire area.

The men were pressed against one another with no space to fall. Some died standing, suffocated before even being struck by an enemy blade.

The armored horses did not slow down.

Jon was in the middle of the chaos finally passing the final line, he continued bringing Blackfyre down upon the enemies as they came within his reach.

His sword was not there for the massacre, it could not be, that came from the weight of the cavalry, with the cavalry finishing destroying their morale and exhausting them, because the true massacre would come afterward.

Near Jon, an ironborn managed to strike a horse’s leg with a short spear. But the animal did not even fall. The next rider passed over him.

Like the tip of a royal arrow, the center pierced the last man, the King of Arctic himself at that very tip, crushing the final ironborn in the defensive formation, and coming in diagonal formation, finally entering the city area.

Jon raised Blackfyre again as he found his first victim among the ironborn beyond the defensive line, striking him by cutting his chest with a slash that his leather armor offered no resistance against.

An ironborn appeared to the right, roaring as he brought down a heavy axe to strike Panis.

Jon tilted his horse to the side. The axe scraped past the armor above Panis’ legs, but he acted quickly as Blackfyre rose and fell. Killing another ironborn.

“Advance!” Jon ordered, his voice firm, echoing with magic.

He and the others of the cavalry continued killing the ironborn scattered before them, while Arya finally reached Jon.

She said nothing, only kept at his side entering the city as she brought Darksister down, killing the men looking for some place to regroup or hide at that moment, with more armored horses passing over their companions.

They could not act in synchronized fashion this time, as Lancelot had organized the other men in the other enemy camp.

A group of five ironborn tried to form a small defensive circle near the central well.

Lyanna Mormont remained motionless upon the walls, she saw everything as if in a dream, heard men and women beginning to rejoice at what was happening before them.

The enemy was pierced by that force, carrying the banner of that kingdom.

“They are winning!”

“The enemy has been pierced!”

“The old gods sent them!”

The people went on, years under the terror of the ironborn had left them with a great hatred against them, seeing them being crushed there was satisfying.

Lyanna watched the screams of desperate men, to the sound of thousands upon thousands of hooves striking the ground, passing more and more through the enemy’s defense, no one could stop them anymore, as they spread throughout the city.

“The hostages… they will certainly suffer greatly because of this…” Her maester could not help but comment and Lyanna had to agree. In the midst of that chaos while Victarion had wanted to use them as a shield wall, left in the middle of the path because there would not be time, and they were there, between the ironborn and the kingdom beyond the Wall.

“Protect the hostages!” The thunderous voice, almost like a roar of thunder, bellowed, yet without sounding hoarse from the force of the shout, it did not even seem as though he strained to speak in that tone, across the entire battlefield, reaching even the castle.

How he did that, Lyanna had no idea. But clearly he was the commander and the man who stood at the very tip of the attacking line without hesitation.

“Do you think this is Jon Arctic, as we knew him??” she asked, somewhat surprised to see him continuing to circle the city killing more and more ironborn atop his horse, while they tried to stop his advance along with the others who followed behind. It was obvious that he also had a personal guard, all wearing the finest armor among those horsemen.

“I believe so, Lady Mormont…” the maester said, though his tone seemed worried. He had seen Jon Arctic’s letter, denouncing the order of maesters. He did not know how to proceed with all those documents and had no choice but to show everything to Lady Mormont, who had become somewhat cautious about it, she believed it and when she asked if they were truthful documents, he had to affirm that they were.

In any case, they continued watching the ironborn running, while a group of horses began to circle the hostages, forming a wall as the rest of the cavalry diverted around the other Arcticans, with the frightened hostages unable to flee, while the ironborn who approached seeking shelter were cut down.

“Are they really doing this?!” the maester exclaimed as Lyanna looked to where he was pointing, the ironborn began to flee the city, advancing directly toward the fortress walls, seeking… shelter?

“We surrender! Let us in!” they began to shout at Lyanna and the others, unable to believe what they were seeing.

Were these not the same men who had been spreading terror across the island, and now they begged for mercy and help?! What kind of joke was that?

“Do not open the gate! In fact, do not attack either ironborn or the Arcticans. Better for us to remain neutral in this and let the Arcticans finish them.” Lyanna gave the order in her childish voice, while her men nodded.

She turned back to look at the battlefield inside and in front of the city. The men who had been crushed by the cavalry, about a thousand of them, many had survived, but were recovering, while others who were still alive could not even move with parts of their bodies broken, able only to scream for someone to help them.

The original 1000 Arctican horses continued fighting in the city.

The king kept riding through the city streets searching for more enemies, Phoenix and Bleufire were flying above the city, in truth above the battlefield the entire time, serving as Jon’s eyes both for himself and for the chaos around him.

It was at that moment that an ironborn jumped from a balcony of one of the city’s low wooden houses, trying to strike Jon from above.

Panis swiftly dodged the ironborn as he crashed hard onto the ground, taking the full impact, and he barely had time to recover before a sword from one of the Arctican guards cut him down.

A group ahead of Jon was forming a line as he advanced without stopping over them. Spears were raised to drive into Panis at that moment, but the horse did something no one there at the shield wall expected.

Panis leaped, forcing his way even over the highest shields, striking them with his hooves and knocking many of them down, while Jon landed on the other side, startling the ironborn.

Jon jumped off Panis and ran toward the group of men who were trying to protect themselves from the other royal guards who were coming right behind, but Jon’s blade soon began to terrify them as he reached them to cut them down from behind.

The formation broke apart.

Which was also a mistake, because as soon as they turned to avoid being cut down like their companions were by the King of Arctic, the royal guard cavalry rode through, crushing and cutting them from all sides as well.

Jon continued attacking the enemies on foot, cutting them down with relative ease, moving faster than anyone there could handle, bathing Blackfyre in the blood of his enemies, their leather armor offering no resistance against the Valyrian steel.

The royal guard horses continued cutting down men to ease the pressure on the surrounded king, passing by Jon from time to time and striking down enemies who approached along that street.

Jon blocked another blow, leaned his body out of the line of the second and cut horizontally. The short man lost his arm. Screaming as he tried to retreat, but Blackfyre reached him, piercing through his leather, flesh, and spine.

From one of the houses, an archer stepped out aiming directly at Jon, but before he could even turn, one of his eagles swooped down upon the archer, who only realized when it was already on top of him due to the sound of wings, the talons struck directly at the man’s eyes.

He screamed with his face bleeding after Phoenix had torn out his eyes, he fell from the second-floor balcony, and fell straight to his death.

Jon did not even look at him as he finished eliminating the last enemies there and moved to Panis, mounting him with a leap and pressing his legs to urge his horse forward.

“Let’s keep going!” he gave the order.

Arya ran between the royal guard horses, with Jon charging ahead.

An ironborn tried to strike her with a spear as he came out from an alley between the houses. It hit her, but it was unable to break her Valyrian steel armor, common steel was nothing against it, not to mention that she wore a Valyrian steel chainmail beneath it that the best blacksmiths of Arctic could produce, since Jon did not make chainmail himself because it took far more time crafting the small rings. Even so, she and all the others wore it for their protection, in case the armor was pierced.

In any case, Arya still felt some of the impact and grew furious, stopping her horse and turning it before running toward the man who quickly grabbed an axe after seeing the spear shattered.

She spun, cut downward, and slashed with Darksister across the man’s neck while he was still trying to grab the axe, the man fell to his knees, not understanding.

Another came from behind, emerging from the same alley, but she did not turn.

A royal guard intercepted, a longsword descending like a guillotine.

Arya was already advancing toward the next one she saw running through the streets.

She did not stray far from Jon, but he had his own battles to fight atop his horse and Arya went to seek hers, she saw three trying to break down a door to hide in the street beside them.

She trotted toward them, turning her body to the side of the horse as she struck the neck of the first, startling the other two. One of them advanced to attack her — he tried to strike the horse, which Arya moved aside before it could be hit, and she took advantage of his mistake to drive Darksister into the enemy’s mouth, he choked on his own blood and screamed in pain. Falling agonizing to the ground.

The third had already fallen dead by that moment and Arya saw the spear being pulled from his chest, while a female royal guard stood near her.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, princess.” she said.

“Jill!” Arya smiled at the royal guard.

“Shall we make a wager, princess?” she asked in challenge.

“Why not? I just started, I have 2 and you 1!” she announced proudly, with Jill snorting before the two women trotted through the streets seeking more ironborn to kill.

The very ground of the city was becoming mud, even with the sunny day, but the blood spreading more and more turned the earth into sludge.

Five ironborn tried to form a line between two houses.

Ten Arcticans on horseback answered. They charged with their horses and spears in hand, finding the opening between the shields.

Impact.

They screamed as they felt the spear tips strike their chests or even their faces, then they were pushed backward.

The enemy line broke open and the Arctican horses entered there, turning as they wheeled around, fighting scattered through the street since the enemy was scattered as well.

Jon kept circling, he could already see nothing but the castle walls, reaching the end of the city, hundreds of ironborn were gathering there, seeking shelter or to surrender. That was not an option.

A wall of Arctic horses and riders was protecting the hostages, there would be no negotiation, his order was clear. Total extermination of that scum.

A man larger than the others — perhaps a captain — appeared before Jon at that moment and charged roaring, with a spear and a longsword in his hands, the sword held over his shoulder, the other hand gripping the spear.

Jon saw the challenge and turned Panis, he trotted and advanced toward the enemy. The man moved the spear and hurled it at Jon.

“Good aim.” Jon had to admit, as he bent his body to the side, moving out of the spear’s path as it passed over the saddle.

The man saw that he had missed and raised the sword with both hands, preparing for the charging horse.

He lifted the enormous blade and Jon spurred Panis even faster.

Jon was quicker than him, catching him by surprise with Panis’ faster acceleration than the enemy had calculated, Jon spun and slid the blade in a clean cut, severing the enemy’s head.

He looked at the headless body and continued, his royal guards keeping close to him.

“My king! Are you well?!” his guards asked as they reached the end of the city with Jon, all that lay ahead was a small open space and the fortress… there were ironborn pressed against the walls of the Mormont fortress.

“I am… in the end, this was easy, and it seems there is not much left now…” Jon said in a calm tone, he was sweating a little, but remained calm and his breathing steady after his battles, although his armor and Panis’ were bathed in blood.

His eyes turned north, where the attack had begun. With the city filled with horses circling streets, alleys, and outer areas, scattered in their own battles.

The enemy had three times the number of the cavalry, yet even so, they were at least cut in half.

The sounds of small clashes, quick blows, groans, and blood running through the streets could be heard. But they were diminishing as the Arcticans exterminated their enemies.

Then came the sound of a horn.

From atop the walls, Lyanna Mormont had already thought she had seen everything that could be seen that day.

She was wrong.

The dust still hung over the field when something different caught her attention. First the sound of the horn coming from the North.

New men emerged from where the cavalry had come, another thousand soldiers came out of the forest and it was organized movement.

A new tide against the ironborn arrived in the form of infantry, running toward them. Organized ranks running in the same rhythm, even those who carried the banners with the symbol of Arctic fluttering above them.

“More?” the maester beside her murmured, almost voiceless.

And then the ground trembled.

At first, Lyanna thought it was the distant echo of the cavalry.

It was not.

The first shadows that fully broke through the tree line were not human in proportion.

She took an involuntary step back.

Giants.

A hundred of them.

Four meters tall, perhaps more with the ornamented helms. Fully armored. Thick plates covering chest, shoulders, arms, and legs like moving walls of steel. They were clad in that metal recognized for being extremely light, yet stronger than common steel.

Each step made the earth visibly shake, dust leaping around their colossal boots.

They did not march like the other soldiers, they ran ahead of the infantry, growing farther and farther from them.

The castle itself seemed to vibrate beneath Lyanna’s feet as they gained speed.

“By all the gods…” she whispered.

The ironborn on the field still tried to reorganize the remnants of their lines after what the cavalry had done, even managing to breathe a little when they noticed.

Some simply stopped and others screamed in fear and terror, beginning to retreat before being crushed by another force even more terrifying.

But time was not on their side, the giants were fast, they first reached those who were standing still, or praying, or crying, or even pissing themselves right there at the sight of an armored colossus three times their size.

The first giant struck the line of ironborn as if passing through dry branches.

They took up their three-meter swords — which would be impossible for a common man to lift — and brought them down horizontally.

Two men were cut in half in the same blow, blood and the sound of bone and flesh being severed rang out in a gruesome harmony.

There was no resistance.

Another giant advanced with an enormous war hammer. He did not strike — he crushed. A shield turned into fragments of wood and metal along with the man holding it.

The ironborn who ran saw that they would not make it, because their companions died without any resistance, they turned back trying to strike at some giant not because they had courage, but perhaps because it was the only way to survive that. They tried to strike the legs, as they would against giants of legend.

Blades struck steel.

Sparks.

No penetration.

One of the giants simply kicked.

The impact hurled a man several meters backward, the body bending the wrong way upon hitting the ground, with countless fractures and broken bones, those men could no longer even move before being crushed by more giants advancing.

Behind them, the thousand Arctican foot soldiers advanced in tight formation, using the chaos created by the colossi as a surgical opening. Where the giants broke through, the infantry consolidated.

An ironborn managed to thrust a spear into the knee joint of one of the giants.

The tip broke.

The giant looked down, the ironborn grimaced as his face turned pale, seeing the giant’s eyes through the slit in his helm. The giant’s sword came down the next moment in a vertical strike and the man disappeared beneath the blow.

The sound now was different from the cavalry before. It was heavier.

A group of twenty ironborn tried to flee sideways.

Two giants shifted course.

They ran.

The distance was closed in seconds.

One of them swept his sword in a wide arc — five bodies fell in pieces. The other simply trampled three men before crushing the fourth with his armored fist.

The Arctican infantry arrived right behind, finishing the survivors, keeping the line cohesive.

The more distant ironborn saw the terror in the sea of bodies left by the cavalry, now with even more of their companions being massacred as the new enemy assault arrived, even more terrifying than a thousand armored horses.

It felt like judgment, a punishment for what they had done on that island.

What could they possibly do against those monsters?! The Drowned God seemed to have abandoned them at that moment, giving way to terror, whatever it was that the old gods had sent upon them as retaliation.

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