[Chapter Size: 3400 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Bear Island, 300 AC.

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Jon spent the night in Mormont Keep and, upon waking in the morning, he knew the door was full of royal guards, taking shifts and protecting him in this castle, even though they were allies.

He had just put on casual clothes when a knock on the door came soon after.

“Enter,” Jon said as he finished putting on his last pieces of clothing. Arya entered wearing a dress with the Arctic symbol on her chest, and a dress far better than Lady Lyanna would wear.

Jon greeted her with a nod and a small smile, turning his attention back to the window, from where he could see both Arctican men and the survivors of Bear Island working to finish burning all the bodies of the enemies, while they gathered the Arcticans who had fallen on the battlefield along with their horses.

Several pits had been opened, with enormous flames and smoke near the village, while life itself was beginning to be rebuilt.

As the day went on, survivors who had been in the forests finally managed to come out, heading to the Mormont seat, more frightened by the animals than by the ironborn. Trying to escape that hell, for although they had not been attacked, they saw men being devoured alive by all kinds of animals, as if the forest had gone mad.

Lyanna and her men guided these people, while the Arcticans also helped the island’s folk rebuild their belongings.

“I visited Jorelle today. She has been conscious since last night and is taking the potions you made for her,” Arya said, approaching him while also observing the island beside the king.

“That is good…” Jon only said and Arya fell silent, watching the state of the town in front of the Mormont fortress.

“You know, I am saddened that everything ended like this for the people here. I remember this island being quite lively and fierce. Seeing them like this, desperate and…” Arya murmured, unable to finish the sentence.

“This was done by savages who live on ships and care about nothing but destruction. That is why we repaid them without mercy. There is a single ironborn alive on this entire island, at this moment,” Jon said.

The truth was that the ships that had stopped along the sides had landed men to slaughter any ironborn who fled to the shore. Some ships managed to escape the island by Victarion’s orders, who asked them to inform of the arrival of the Arcticans, even though he had sent ravens, advancing both to Pyke and to Deepwood Motte, where Asha was making her siege against the Glover men.

However, they were surprised by another force of the Arctican fleet that appeared at sea and began firing harpoons with wildfire, detonating all the vessels that had no civilians. Those that did were boarded.

Unfortunately, it was not possible to save all the civilians. Even in this nearly perfect military campaign, there were casualties among the hostages who were with the enemy. Some were even trampled by Arctican riders; there was no way to save everyone. Still, most were spared, especially the women. There were also men who were to be taken as slaves, all of them were freed.

Now, Jon needed to help that island however he could.

“We will help them. And also, the birds I sent to gather information and venture into the North discovered quite interesting things over the course of this night…” Jon began, while Arya looked at him curiously.

“Did you find out where Theon is?” she said, with a certain anger. Theon had not left the thoughts of vengeance, neither hers nor Jon’s.

Jon sighed. “I found him, and not in the way we imagined.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is in Winterfell, ready to march south alongside Ramsay Snow, Roose Bolton’s bastard,” Jon announced, making Arya grimace.

“Alongside the Boltons? Then he—”

“It is not what you imagine. In truth, what I found has nothing to do with the Theon we remembered. I saw only a shell of the arrogant man who did as he pleased for many years in Winterfell. He was tortured. I gathered some information during the night. He was taken to the Dreadfort, where he was castrated and turned into something he never was: a broken, fearful, and desperate creature. He basically has a master now, and it is that Bolton bastard who tortured him until he broke his spirit,” Jon explained.

Arya stared at him for several seconds, as if trying to understand whether that was real.

Jon continued, his voice cold: “After everything, that wretch found a fate worse than death. I do not know whether it is deserved or not, but, honestly, even a blood eagle would be more mercy than what he is living through now. But that does not matter. He will still pay for his crimes when I bring my sword down upon his neck, when I find him.”

There was no emotion in his voice, only indifference. Theon did not even deserve that. Now, he was merely a creature who, when Jon found him, would be beheaded.

Arya fell silent, thoughtful. “And the Boltons?”

“They will pay as well. We will destroy them once and for all, I guarantee it,” Jon replied. “Now let us have breakfast.”

Arya nodded.

The day began there, near Mormont Keep. The people worked, hammers striking as planks were placed where needed in the houses. Now, without the ironborn ruling the island, they could return to their homes — or to what remained of them.

The Arcticans prepared a first communal meal, and the island’s common folk lined up to eat before returning to work.

Jon went to the Mormont hall, followed by his royal guards. As they entered, they found Lyanna seated at one corner of the main table, before they made their way to the table. Beside her was her sister, who had already left her bed and was eating a soup.

Everyone stopped eating and stood up the moment Jon arrived. They may not have knelt, but it was certainly a way of showing respect.

“Good morning, everyone,” Jon said as he walked toward the main empty seats at the high table. “You may sit.” He added as everyone sat down.

“King of Arctic… I mean, Your Majesty,” Jorelle said. Unlike her sister, she did not sit and turned to Jon with gratitude.

“You must be Jorelle Mormont. I see you are better,” he said. She nodded, displaying a shy smile.

“I know it was Your Majesty who saved me from certain death and also gave us medicine. I wanted to deeply thank you for what you did, King of Arctican, not only for me, but also for helping my sister out of a crisis and, above all, the people of this island. The Mormonts will never forget what your soldiers did,” she spoke as the spokesperson of the house.

If she was well, she would probably be Lady Mormont from now on. Jon did not think it was bad. Lyanna was only a child; she could not simply command her house in the midst of a crisis and grow properly when she was not yet old enough even to lift an axe or a sword.

“I may rule in the North, but this kingdom, the North, was once my home as well. Besides, it is my responsibility, from now on, to care for the seven kingdoms,” Jon said.

She nodded carefully, knowing very well what those words meant, and sat back down, with Jon sitting beside her and Arya at his right.

“Lady Arya, I hope your stay has been pleasant, as well as the king’s,” Jorelle said. Already knowing Arya, she felt more at ease and spoke far more diplomatically than Lyanna would have.

“I have nothing to complain about. I have slept in these rooms before and was never bothered by your chambers, so it was a pleasant night,” Arya said. “And I see you are perfectly well. It will not take long for you to wield an axe again, with Jon’s healing having made you leave your bed from one day to the next.”

“Yes. I may have fallen to those Greyjoys in an attempt to save the people, but I will not fail again. In any case, my sister told me about what you said yesterday. Our maester seems to be very afraid,” she murmured.

“Indeed, he is,” Jon said without any issue. “I told him that I will destroy their order as we know it today. I sent to Lady Mormont documents that report involvement before and after Robert’s Rebellion, mainly regarding the maester who was in Winterfell, whispering in Rickard Stark’s ear. The truth is that there was omission and interception of information. My mother’s raven arrived at Winterfell stating that she was well and that she had gone with the prince of her own free will. But the maester hid it…”

“I want to reveal the whole truth of what happened in that rebellion and that, in fact, even the maesters were involved, intercepting letters that could have changed the course of the war. I cannot change the past, but I intend to bring justice and expose the rot and corruption that come from the Citadel. I may have killed most of the minds behind these schemes when I sacked the city, but I will not let them go unpunished. This will be a stain in history of what they are truly capable of doing.”

“You will destroy all the lords’ trust in their maesters,” Jorelle murmured.

“Well, that is also one of the objectives. Which is not a lie, after all I have seven kingdoms to conquer,” Jon said and Jorelle widened her eyes.

The maester was not listening to the conversation at the request of the Arcticans themselves, who checked the entire place before the king entered. Everything was arranged to protect Jon, just as the food itself was prepared by the cooks from Jon’s main ship, who always checked any food that went to the king’s and his men’s mouths.

Jorelle understood very well what he meant by conquest. If the kingdom were divided, it would be much easier to conquer it. A clever way — but he would not be lying about the maesters. If those documents were revealed, they would put the order against the wall.

“In any case, it is not only here that will receive these documents. I sent them to all possible houses, with thousands of types of documents going to both the smallest and the greatest,” Jon continued.

“Will this also harm the South?” Lyanna asked, hatred beside her sister.

Jon merely opened a smile. “Most likely, yes. After all, Tywin was very attached to Joanna. He will not be at all pleased to learn that his wife was being poisoned during her last child. I sent documents about Pycelle. He was poisoning the king slowly, worsening even more the madness of the Mad King. Just as the maester of Casterly Rock poisoned Joanna. They suspected that Tyrion was the son of King Aerys and Joanna, since he was quite obsessed with her and left King’s Landing some time after she became pregnant.”

“The child himself survived, but had serious dwarfism issues. Perhaps that is why he was born that way, while the mother did not survive due to the poisons she received,” Jon said.

Both Jorelle and Lyanna — and even Arya, who was not aware of this — widened their eyes.

“You are saying that Tyrion’s birth was caused by this?” Arya murmured, remembering him very well. Of all the Lannisters she had known, besides Cersei’s children — except that bastard Joffrey — Tyrion was clearly better than his siblings and his nephew.

“Well, that will certainly be like a blow to the lion’s balls,” Jorelle said, beginning to laugh. Despite a sharp pain still striking her — for she was not fully recovered — she laughed a little more at the end.

“Tell me, Jon Arctic,” she said, now a little more at ease, drinking some of the beer the Arcticans had brought. “I heard that you entered Casterly Rock and stole a Lannister while the lion was absent. Is that true?” she asked, amused.

“My men are quite skilled in infiltration, at least some of them are. And since I had given my word to a Lannister on the other side of the world, I said I would keep his daughter safe. I only had to take her from the Rock during all the chaos in Winterfell.”

“Very good. The North spoke of nothing else until Ned went south and started all this mess. In any case, we are glad there is a chance to avenge what happened to our mother and our sisters,” Jorelle said.

Jon nodded as they continued talking. He announced that he would execute Victarion Greyjoy in the middle of the morning, as soon as he was brought from the ships in the north, where he had been taken by Caraxes.

Jon rode out beyond the walls of the fortress with Arya and his men. He took the opportunity to speak directly with his cousin, now that he had better information about the North, and wanted her counsel.

“The North is in a somewhat tense situation. The heir of Last Hearth may be Ned, Mors Umber is taking care of the castle. The Great Umber is with the Boltons, it seems, and coming north. In Karhold, the men returned from the war abandoning Robb after he killed Lord Karstark. Alys’ uncle, with her being the direct heir, is planning to take the title of lord from his niece, while Alys tries to escape from that.”

“In Deepwood Motte, the Boltons are advancing against the ironborn who were there. Asha Greyjoy had to retreat a little, but the Glover men are receiving help from the Boltons, which is quite dangerous. I still have not been able to see further south, but these are the conditions in which the North finds itself now.”

“Any news about Robb? Is he alive or not?” she asked.

But Jon shook his head. “There is no concrete information. They are speaking more about the return of Roose Bolton than any mention of Robb. Some still continue cursing him for the chaos the ironborn created in the North. I must say that, recently, among the mountain folk — especially the coastal ones — all the villages were devastated.”

Arya listened to this in silence, thoughtful, as they continued trotting across the island and found their men working here and there.

“You could unite the North,” Arya suggested.

“Just as you could as well,” Jon retorted. “We could place all the houses again under the same banner, destroy possible rebellions and internal conflicts within each of the families.”

“I said I would go wherever you go, Jon. I do not intend to do more than that,” Arya replied in a serious tone.

Jon sighed. “Very well. We will leave the North for now. After all, we must go south. We will let others deal with the North. Brandon will be able to unite the North, and he will not be alone. Brandon will come south with Brynden and the army, Benjen will also be at his side.”

Their objective was to cut the evil at its root with their men. First, they would try to attack whoever they could along the coast, but the true target was Pyke, catching them by surprise.

Jon rode a little longer with Arya, talking as they rode across the island. After all, despite the war leaving destruction and terror, Bear Island had its natural beauty, with them setting the war aside for a moment and speaking about the place before returning to the castle, where they had already escorted Victarion Greyjoy, keeping him chained to a pillar in the middle of the fortress courtyard.

The man mentioned was disturbed. He was quite injured since the day before, when he had been preparing to face the Arcticans, but suddenly that giant eagle had simply seized him as if he were nothing and pierced the front and back of his shoulders before pulling him into the sky, leaving his men without a commander.

He had been placed in custody on the ships and, when he complained too much, his captors grew easily irritated and he received punches from those men without any mercy.

When they opened his cell and brought him there, he saw pits upon pits with flames consuming the bodies of ironborn. That made Victarion shudder.

“Do you think your end will be to be thrown into the sea, ironborn?” an Arctican mocked, knowing well the culture of those men and knowing exactly where to strike.

“You cannot do this against the people of the Drowned God!” Victarion snarled.

The men around him merely laughed. “You will have no ritual of respect with your god. Our king was quite clear in wanting to exterminate you.”

“You cannot be serious!” he retorted, despite the fear he felt upon hearing that.

As he advanced, he could see his men dead in piles, killed in various ways, some even cut in half — which indicated it had been the work of those giants he had seen among the ships.

He would never wish to face such a monster. If those men had faced that, their end had not been easy at all.

“You plan to exterminate us? What kind of sadistic savages are you?” he shouted, regaining a bit of courage.

“Says the man who massacred men and children while raping defenseless women. Do you think you have any right to complain? No. Our king was quite clear: you do not deserve mercy for the war crimes you committed in this place. He was clear in wanting to exterminate you. That is the order, and that is what happened to your people. Soon we will also advance to your land, to that cursed island, and we will devastate it to the last of you,” an Arctican dwarf snarled.

Victarion was unable to respond. The scene before him made it clear that promise was not empty, and he began to wonder what kind of hell they had stepped into.

He was led into the fortress and seized, placed upon a platform. The Mormont people approached the place, knowing that soon he would die when the Arctican king returned.

He remained there for at least twenty minutes until he finally caught sight of the one who would be the king of the people who had massacred them, approaching. Jon analyzed him with his green eyes.

Victarion could not say anything, staring at that young man. There was defiance in those emerald eyes, as if they expected him to protest against anything that was happening.

“Fetch my sword. We will execute him officially,” Jon gave the order. His men went to retrieve Blackfyre, which was kept under guard beside the armor Jon had worn in the previous battle.

The sword was brought, and quickly the people gathered, mainly the Mormont folk, eager to witness the death of the one who had led the cause of so much evil against them. Jon stopped beside him, placing Blackfyre on the ground for a moment.

“Victarion Greyjoy, you are accused of causing terror against the people of the Seven Kingdoms, giving orders for your men to carry out all manner of war crimes. That is why I, Jon Arctic, who comes to pacify the Seven Kingdoms and claim what is mine by right — the Iron Throne — sentence you to death. What are your last words?”

He himself would execute Victarion.

Despite the fear of dying, Victarion snarled, “I do not have much to say. But know this, the Kraken will not be so easily destroyed. You cannot kill what is already dead.”

Jon merely mocked him with his gaze. He raised the sword and cut through Victarion’s neck with a clean strike. The head rolled as it fell onto the wooden floor of the platform, slipping off it while blood gushed from the neck.

Everyone began to clap at the death of the ironborn commander, while Jon kept his eyes fixed on the dead body.

“You seem not to have understood one thing in this life, Victarion. I do not need to destroy krakens. I will simply kill men who think they are krakens. And as for the real krakens… I can control them.”

With those words, Jon handed Blackfyre over to be stored. There was one less Greyjoy in this world — but there were still others left to hunt.

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