Chapter 195: A Sword for MaliaJune 6
Jacob, his wives, Stiles, Erica, and Kitty had dinner with Noah, Natalie, Victoria, and Chris, who had returned to Serendell just a few hours ago.
The dining table was crowded but warm. Cogman moved between them, refilling plates and pouring drinks. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the conversation flowed freely.
Jacob and his wives told Chris and the others about the Game of Thrones world over dinner—about the Seven Kingdoms, about the Starks and the Lannisters, about the Wall and the White Walkers.
By the end of the meal, Chris and Victoria had made their decision.
"We're coming with you," Chris said.
Victoria nodded. "That world sounds like fun."
Noah shook his head. "I have work. And someone needs to stay here and make sure Beacon Hills doesn't burn down while you're all playing medieval."
Natalie smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'll stay with him."
Jacob nodded. "Fair enough."
---
After dinner, Jacob, his wives, and Kitty moved to their private living room.
Jacob lay in his recliner with Malia in his arms, her head resting on his chest. Lydia, Allison, and Melissa sat on the couches, talking about what they had bought in Oldtown.
Jacob focused on his system and said in his mind, 'System, sign in.'
[Quest Sign-In Successful. Rewards Obtained:
1️⃣ Tessaiga — Modified Version (Inuyasha): An indestructible legendary katana forged from the fang of a true nine-tailed fox, a creature on par with dragons and other mythical legends. In its dormant state, it appears as an unremarkable, ordinary katana. But when infused with the user's energy, it transforms into a massive, fang-shaped cleaver with white fur erupting from the hilt. Without bonding with the blade, it cannot be used—or even drawn from its scabbard. This replica lacks many of the original Tessaiga's abilities, but it surpasses the original in one crucial way: it does not require opposing energies to clash and create a "scar." Instead, the user can simply swing the sword and unleash a devastating crescent-shaped energy slash made from their elemental powers—fire, ice, lightning, wind, or any element they possess. This elemental slash strikes with triple the power of the user's base elemental attack.
2️⃣ Samurai Summoning Scroll (The 47 Ronin movie): A scroll that summons the 30 remaining ronin from the movie 47 Ronin, led by the samurai Ōishi Yoshio just after they defeated Lord Kira and the witch Mizuki and presented Lord Kira's head at Lord Asano's grave. They are armed with the mythical Tengu Swords from the Tengu Forest. They will be loyal to you, your wives, and anyone who shares your soul bond.
3️⃣ Scroll of Accio x20 (Harry Potter): A scroll that lets you learn the Summoning Charm, which calls an object to the caster. It can summon items that are out of sight, far away, or in direct line of sight. The object teleports directly to the caster's hand. The user must visualize the object clearly and speak the name of the charm "Accio" with intent. It cannot summon living creatures.]
Jacob read the first reward and thought, 'That's a nice sword, but it's not for me. I want something like Thor's Stormbreaker. Tessaiga is more suitable for Malia's wild, chaotic fighting style.'
He read the second reward and frowned. 'I remember that movie. Those samurai were skilled warriors, especially their leader Ōishi Yoshio. And Keanu Reeves' character had supernatural powers.' He paused. 'But should I summon them here and let them live in Serendell? I'll ask the girls for their opinion first.'
He read the last reward and smirked. 'That's a nice spell. I'll try it right now.'
He took one of the Scrolls of Accio from his pocket dimension. All the girls and Kitty noticed, but before they could say anything, he opened it.
The scroll turned into a white light and disappeared into his forehead. He closed his eyes, learning the spell.
A minute later, he opened his eyes.
Allison asked, "What ability did that scroll let you learn?"
Jacob smirked. "Let me show you."
He glanced at Lydia, activating his x-ray vision to glimpse the black lace bra beneath her clothes. He fixed the image of it in his mind and whispered, "Accio."
Lydia screamed. Her hands flew to her chest. Everyone watched as her bra appeared in Jacob's hand.
Jacob winked at her and sniffed the bra in front of all of them, completely unashamed. "Smells so good."
Allison snorted. "Pervert."
Jacob smiled. "Don't be jealous. Accio."
Allison screamed. Her hands flew to her chest.
Her bra appeared in Jacob's hand. He sniffed it with a blissful expression on his face. "I love this spell."
Everyone just shook their heads, smiling.
Lydia said, "I know that spell. It's from the Harry Potter world, right? You pervert."
Jacob nodded. "Yes. It's a Summoning Charm. It summons an object to the caster. The object teleports directly to the caster's hand. But it cannot summon living creatures."
Lydia walked to him and extended her hand.
Jacob handed her her bra.
Lydia winked. "You can keep it. Give me the spell."
Jacob took five scrolls and handed them out—one for Lydia, one for Allison, one for Malia, one for Melissa, and one for Kitty.
They all opened their scrolls. White light absorbed into their foreheads. They closed their eyes to learn the spell. Soon, they all opened their eyes and started playing with the new ability.
Lydia summoned a pillow from across the room. Allison summoned her phone from her pocket. Malia summoned a knife from the kitchen. Melissa summoned a book from the shelf. Kitty summoned a ball of yarn from nowhere and batted it between her paws.
Jacob watched them for a moment, then said, "I have a summoning scroll that will summon thirty samurai from another world. Should I summon them here in Serendell and allow them to live here? Or should I summon them outside Serendell?"
Allison asked, "Are they loyal to you or not?"
Jacob said, "They are loyal to me, you girls, and anyone with my soul bond—like Kitty, Cogman, and Saphira."
Lydia asked, "Do you know their background?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes." He told them the plot of 47 Ronin—how the samurai had been masterless after their lord was forced to commit seppuku, how they had waited a year for revenge, how they had stormed Lord Kira's castle and killed the witch Mizuki, how they had presented Kira's head at their lord's grave.
Allison said, "Although Serendell is big and they are good people and loyal to us, I think Serendell should be only for us and our families."
Melissa added, "And if you let them live in Serendell, they will want to have wives. You would have to bring their wives here too."
Lydia nodded. "Yeah. It's better to summon them in Sansa's world. Let them live and have their families there."
Jacob said, "Alright. I'll summon them in Sansa's world."
They kept talking and watching TV. Eventually, Jacob went with Allison to her room to spend the night with her.
---
The Next Morning — Serendell Training Grounds
After breakfast, Jacob took Malia to their usual training ground far from the palace.
Snow-capped mountains rose in the distance. The grass was green and soft underfoot. A light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers.
Jacob pulled Tessaiga from his pocket dimension.
The katana was unremarkable at first glance—a simple scabbard of black lacquered wood, a plain tsuba, a white handle wrapped in black cord. But even dormant, it hummed with latent power.
Jacob handed it to Malia. "This is Tessaiga. It's forged from the fang of a true nine-tailed fox." He explained its abilities—how it would transform when infused with her energy, how it would unleash elemental slashes with triple her base power.
Malia's eyes gleamed. She pricked her finger with her claw and let her blood drip onto the blade.
The sword drank it, bonding with her.
Malia channeled her energy into Tessaiga.
The blade erupted. It transformed into a massive, fang-shaped cleaver, nearly as tall as she was, with white fur erupting from the hilt. Cyan wind energy swirled around it.
Malia grinned.
She waved the blade.
A huge crescent-shaped wind slash shot from the sword. It cut through the air, struck the ground, and carved a deep trench fifty meters long. Dirt and grass exploded into the air.
Malia laughed. "I love it."
She made the sword return to its dormant state and hung it on her waist. Then she hugged Jacob and gave him a deep kiss.
"Thank you," she said.
Jacob smiled. "You're welcome, love."
---
Back at the Palace
Jacob gave Chris and Victoria Westerosi-style clothes with his sigil—the black dragon's head with burning red eyes on a crimson field. Chris wore a close-fitting outfit of dark leather and grey wool, practical and warm. Victoria wore a gown of deep blue with silver embroidery.
Noah and Natalie stayed behind.
Everyone else—Jacob, his wives, Stiles, Erica, Kitty, Cogman, Chris, and Victoria—returned to the Game of Thrones world.
---
The Camp in the Frozen Forest, Three Miles from the Wall – Morning
They appeared near the capsule house. Snow was falling—light, steady.
Brienne and Podrick were having breakfast around a crackling fire. They stood and saluted when Jacob appeared.
Chris looked at the massive black wolf lying in front of the capsule house. "What a huge wolf. Did you bring it from Serendell?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. Although the wolves in Serendell grow bigger, they aren't this big. This is a direwolf—a creature from this world."
Malia's eyes lit up. "We should find a pack of them. Take them to Serendell."
Jacob nodded. "We'll look for them later."
Sansa felt Jacob's presence and came out of the capsule house. She kissed him, then greeted everyone warmly.
Jacob introduced Chris and Victoria. "This is Chris and Victoria. Allison's parents."
Sansa smiled politely. "It's nice to meet you."
Chris inclined his head. "Likewise."
Victoria studied Sansa for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "You're beautiful. Jacob certainly knows how to choose his wives."
Sansa blushed.
Jacob asked Sansa, "Did you have a good talk with your brother? How was he all these years?"
Sansa's expression softened. "He said he was fine. The Umbers took good care of him, although they hated Osha." Her voice tightened. "After Greatjon died a few months ago, and his son became the head of House Umber, things became tense. Osha was treated badly, but they didn't go too far."
Jacob nodded. "I see. Is he still sleeping? We need to go."
Sansa shook her head with a smile. "No. He and Osha are glued to the TV, watching cartoons. Arya is the one still sleeping."
Jacob snorted. "Wake her up. We're going to Castle Black now."
Sansa's smile faltered. "I can't wait to see Jon. Although... he might hate me. I was awful to him."
Jacob squeezed her hand. "You were just a kid back then." He paused. "But we're probably going to fight Stannis and his army before we can reach Castle Black and see Jon."
Brienne frowned. "Stannis?"
Jacob nodded. "Yeah. He and his six thousand men are at Castle Black. Along with the Red Woman."
Allison frowned. "Who's the Red Woman?"
Brienne's jaw tightened. "An evil witch, Your Grace."
Allison's eyes narrowed. "Evil?"
Jacob said, "She uses blood sacrifice magic. She sacrifices humans for power—especially those with royal blood. She's one of the devoted worshipers of the demon R'hllor." His voice hardened. "We should kill that fanatic old hag."
Brienne looked at Jacob. "Your Grace... can I please kill Stannis?"
Jacob nodded. "Sure. He's yours."
Brienne's eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Jacob looked at Sansa. "Go wake up your sister. We're leaving soon."
Sansa nodded and went back inside.
Soon, she returned with a sleepy Arya, followed by Rickon and Osha.
Chapter 196: The Samurai ArmyJune 6
Sansa went back inside the capsule house and returned with a sleepy Arya, followed by Rickon and Osha.
Jacob reached into his pocket dimension and pulled out the Samurai Summoning Scroll.
He opened it and threw it into the air.
The scroll glowed and disappeared. A space portal appeared—but no one came through.
No one came through.
Jacob frowned. 'System, what's happening? Why aren't they coming?'
[I am speaking with them, Host. Explaining what will happen if they choose to accept your summon.]
Allison asked, "Is that the samurai summoning scroll you just used?"
Jacob nodded. "Yeah. But it will take some time for them to arrive. They might even choose to reject my summon."
Lydia raised an eyebrow. "They have a choice? I thought you forcibly summoned them."
Kitty said, "No. When I was summoned, a woman spoke in my head and asked if I was willing to be summoned to a new world and have a new life. I said yes." She paused. "I was actually sleeping and thought it was a dream—until I was sucked into a hole in space. I'm glad I said yes."
Cogman nodded. "I was given a choice as well. Accept being summoned and follow sir, or reject." His voice softened. "I'm glad I accepted." He turned to Jacob. "I wanted to ask who the woman was who spoke to me that day, but it slipped my mind."
Jacob said, "That's the Nexus stone. She's sentient. I call her Nex."
Stiles's eyes went wide. "Wait a minute. Your Nexus stone is sentient? And she can talk?"
Jacob nodded. "Yeah. The Mind Stone and the Soul Stone are part of her, after all."
Stiles rubbed his chin. "That makes sense." He paused. "By the way, can you show us the Nexus stone?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. She's fused with my body."
Just then, the system spoke in Jacob's mind.
[They accepted. But with one condition. You will allow them to bring more people with them. Three hundred more samurai from Akō Domain, along with six hundred Ashigaru (foot soldiers), and approximately 2,300 normal townspeople who still live in the domain of Akō. The elite samurai, led by Ōishi, promised that as long as you take in the normal townspeople and protect them, they will fight for you with the other 300 samurai and 600 foot soldiers. Kai also promised to swear allegiance to you if you bring Mika and allow them to marry.
Note: Only the thirty ronin will have a soul bond to you. The rest are not bound to you.]
[Should I accept their terms and summon them, or not?]
Jacob thought for a moment. 'That's actually great. I get 300 warriors trained from birth in swordsmanship and 600 foot soldiers for my army.' He smiled. 'Accept their condition. Summon them.'
[As you wish, Host.]
'Wait. How long will it take for them to gather everyone and come here?'
[Not much time, Host. Five hours in their world is only one hour in yours. They said they only need around seven hours to gather everyone and everything. That will take an hour and a half at most.]
'Alright. Tell them to hurry.'
Jacob said aloud, "We'll have to wait for about an hour and a half before they arrive."
He looked at Melissa. "Mel, they accepted my summon, but on the condition that they bring a lot of normal townspeople with them, including women and children. They're probably in poor condition. They've been living a miserable life for the last year. So we need warm clothes for them until we find a warm place for them to live." He paused. "Go with Lydia to our world. Buy them warm clothes."
Melissa asked, "How many people are we talking about?"
Jacob said, "3,230 total. 2,300 are normal townspeople. The remaining 930 are samurai and Ashigaru—foot soldiers."
Melissa's eyes widened. "That's a lot of people."
She thought for a moment. "I know we said Serendell is only for us and our families, but how about you take them there temporarily until we find them a suitable place to live? They won't need warm clothes there. And I'll stay with them and keep an eye on them."
Jacob shook his head. "Okay. But you don't have to stay with them. I'll give them food and take them to a place far from the palace and the area where the wild animals live—until we build our own city from where we'll rule Westeros and move them there."
Melissa said, "You said they've been miserable for a year. There must be a lot of sick among them. I'll check their health and heal the sick with my powers." She smiled. "You know I don't like to fight. Let me take care of them. They're our people now."
Erica stepped forward. "I'll help Melissa."
Jacob nodded. "Alright."
---
They waited.
An hour and a half later, the samurai and their people began coming out of the space portal.
Ōishi Yoshio, Kai, and the other twenty-eight ronin came first, riding horses and wearing red samurai armor. Their helmets bore crescent moons. Their swords gleamed at their waists.
Behind them came three hundred more samurai on horses, also in red armor, their banners flapping in the cold wind.
Ōishi, Kai, and the other ronin immediately recognized Jacob as their new master through the soul bond they felt. They dismounted, walked to him, and knelt in the snow.
They placed their swords in front of them. Ōishi bowed his head.
"Greetings, Master," Ōishi said. "We swear we will serve you with honor. We will protect you and your family. We will fight for you until death."
Jacob said, "And I will protect your people. From now on, you and they are my people." He gestured. "Now get up. I don't like people kneeling to me. If you want to greet me, just salute—like this."
He demonstrated a salute.
Ōishi, Kai, and the other ronin stood and saluted. The three hundred samurai behind them followed suit.
Jacob and the others watched as 2,300 townspeople emerged from the portal—men, women, and children—pulling wagons loaded with belongings. They looked exhausted, thin, and cold. Their clothes were ragged. Their faces were pale.
Behind them came 600 foot soldiers, wearing simple armor and carrying spears and bows.
The portal closed.
Jacob opened a portal to Serendell—a swirling vortex of blue and gold. He looked at Ōishi and Kai.
"Take your people through. They'll be safe and warm in Serendell. They can stay there until we build our own city in this world—then we'll move them there."
Ōishi bowed. "Thank you, Master."
Ōishi and Kai took the townspeople through the portal.
Jacob followed with Melissa and Erica.
In Serendell, he led them to a vast open field far from the palace. He used his connection to the land to create a temporary small town—brick houses, cobblestone streets, a well, and a small inn.
He then brought in a few milk cows and goats from the cattle that lived in Serendell. They had grown larger than usual, but they were still docile.
Finally, he purchased enough food from the system shop to last everyone several days: rice, vegetables, fish, meat, seasonings, and fresh bread.
"Eat," he said. "Milk the cows and goats. Rest. Stay here until I build a home for you to live in."
He looked at Melissa and Erica. "You take care of the rest."
Melissa nodded.
Jacob looked at Ōishi and Kai. "Your people will be safe here. Now, let's go. We have a continent to conquer."
Ōishi and Kai nodded. They said goodbye to their families—Ōishi to his wife, Kai to Mika—and then Jacob teleported them back to the Game of Thrones world.
---
Jacob opened another portal to Serendell and brought out several horses.
For himself, his wives, and Cogman, he brought Nightmare Horses—massive, pitch-black creatures that stood 2.5 meters high at the shoulders. Their eyes glowed like embers, and they breathed plumes of steam like a steam engine.
For Stiles, Chris, Victoria, Arya, Brienne, Osha, and Podrick, he brought normal horses—but these had lived in Serendell for months and had grown larger than any normal horse. They were only slightly smaller than the Nightmares.
Stiles stared at the Nightmare Horses. "What are those?"
Jacob said, "They're called Nightmare Horses. They have supernatural powers."
Stiles's eyes lit up. "I want one."
Jacob shook his head. "They're only loyal and obedient to me, my wives, Cogman, and Kitty. If you want one, you have to tame one yourself. They're still in Serendell." He smirked. "But be careful. They might burn you to ash."
Stiles blinked. "Burn me?"
Jacob nodded. "They can control the fire element."
Stiles's grin returned. "Now I really want one."
Jacob mounted Shadow, his Nightmare Horse. The massive black stallion snorted and stamped his hoof.
"Let's go," Jacob said.
Shadow began trotting toward Castle Black. Allison and the others followed on their Horses.
Rickon climbed onto Shaggydog's back. The direwolf loped alongside the horses, wary of the Nightmares, keeping his distance.
Behind them, Ōishi, Kai, and the twenty-eight ronin followed on their horses. Behind them, the three hundred samurai rode in formation. Behind them, the six hundred Ashigaru marched on foot, their spears rising and falling in rhythm.
---
Stiles urged his horse next to Jacob's. He nodded toward Kai.
"That guy is Keanu Reeves' doppelgänger, right?"
Jacob nodded. "Yeah. He is."
Stiles grinned. "You know, I'm a fan of The Matrix. And Keanu Reeves."
Jacob smirked. "Then go ask him for an autograph."
Stiles shook his head. "He's not the real Keanu Reeves." He paused. "Anyway, you said we're going to fight an army. Are we going to wipe them out?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. We'll try to leave most of them alive. Make them join our army. We'll only kill enough until they surrender."
Stiles nodded. "I see."
Jacob turned to Cogman. "You heard what I just said?"
Cogman pretended not to hear. "Excuse me, sir? I wasn't listening. What did you say?"
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "I said we'll leave most of Stannis's army alive. So although you are allowed to kill, don't kill too many of them."
Cogman raised his voice. "Sorry, sir. The wind is too strong. I didn't hear what you said again."
Jacob's voice hardened. "Believe it or not, I will send your ass back to Serendell."
Cogman threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine, fine. I won't kill too many of them." Then a slow, wicked smile spread across his face. "But the ones I do kill? I'm going to enjoy every moment."
Stiles muttered, "Psychopath."
Cogman turned to him. "Do you want to fight, 'little spoon'?"
Stiles's face reddened. "What did you just call me?"
Cogman smirked. "Little spoon."
Stiles looked around. Jacob was laughing. His wives were laughing. Kitty was laughing. Even Chris and Victoria were laughing.
Jacob said, "Girls talk. That's their thing. Gossip is their favorite sport."
Lydia protested, "Hey, that's not true!"
Jacob snorted. "Yeah, right. You girls gather for your afternoon tea or girls' night and start gossiping for hours. Even Victoria and Natalie join you." He glanced at Cogman. "And of course, stupid Cogman joins you too."
Chris turned to Victoria. "You don't talk about me, do you?"
Victoria smiled sweetly. "What did you say, honey? I didn't quite hear you."
Chris turned to Allison. "Did your mom say something about me?"
Allison tried to hold back her laugh. She shook her head.
Chris narrowed his eyes. "Hey, I can see you're laughing. What did your mom say?"
Allison started, "Nothin..." but couldn't finish. She burst out laughing.
Lydia smirked and gave Chris a judgmental look.
Chris turned to Victoria. "Seriously. What did you tell them?"
Victoria smiled. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
Stiles looked at Jacob, who was still smiling. "Aren't you worried about what they say about you?"
Jacob shrugged. "Not really. I'm shameless. They can say whatever they want about me, and I won't care." He flipped his hair dramatically. "Besides, look at me. I'm perfect. Even if they talk about me, they'll only praise my beauty." He smirked at Stiles. "Not like you, 'little spoon.'"
Stiles groaned. "Damn it."
Jacob said, "By the way, Stiles. People in this world have a habit of introducing their kings with a few titles. So I want you to be the one introducing me from now on." He cleared his throat. "You will say: 'Jacob Flameborn of House Alexander, King of Serendell, King of Dragons, King of Harems, Rightful King of Westeros, Protector of Women, the Most Handsome Man Alive, The Unashamed, The Husband That Was Promised, Breaker of Bedframes.'" He paused. "You can add some more nice titles if you want."
Arya snorted. "He's given himself even more titles again."
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Do you seriously want me to introduce you with those perverted, self-proclaimed titles?"
Jacob's smile didn't waver. "Those are not self-proclaimed. They are real titles." His eyes narrowed. "And you better introduce me right. Don't embarrass me in front of people. Because if you try to be funny, I will order Cogman to castrate you."
Cogman raised a hand. "I will gladly do it. In fact, I'll do it right now, sir. Just give the order."
Jacob smirked at Stiles. "Did you hear that? Try to be funny, and I will give Cogman the order. And believe me, I will do it—because I have another title: the Tyrant King." His voice dropped. "So don't embarrass me, peasant."
Stiles ignored Cogman and looked at Jacob. "A peasant? I should be the Hand of the King."
Jacob looked frightened. "What? The Hand of the King? Do you mean you want to be my hands and help me do things?" His voice rose in mock horror. "Like holding my pecker and helping me pee?"
Stiles sputtered. "What? No!"
Jacob urged Shadow toward Lydia. "Lydia! Your peasant stepbrother is saying some gay stuff to me again! Protect me!"
Lydia steered her Nightmare between Stiles and Jacob. She pointed at Stiles. "You stay away from my husband. You weirdo. You try to kiss him every day, and now you want to be his hand?" She shook her head. "I know he's handsome, but he's not into men. So stay away from him, or I'll beat your ass."
Stiles threw his hands up. "That's not what I meant!"
Lydia crossed her arms. "I don't believe you. And look around—no one believes you. So stay away from my husband."
Stiles looked around.
Everyone was laughing. Even the samurai.
"Seriously," Stiles said, "that's not what I meant. I'm straight. I like girls."
No one stopped laughing.
They rode on, chatting and laughing, the snow falling gently around them.
Castle Black waited in the distance.
Chapter 197: A Father's Madness and a Daughter's InnocenceJune 8
Castle Black — The Wall
The wind never stopped at Castle Black.
It howled through the crumbling towers, whipped the black cloaks of the men on the wall, and carried the biting cold of the far north into every stone crevice. The sky was the color of old iron, heavy with clouds that promised more snow before nightfall.
Jon Snow stood at the top of the Wall, looking north.
He did this often now. Not because he expected to see anything—the haunted forest was a sea of white and grey, endless and empty—but because looking north reminded him of what he had lost. And what he was trying to protect.
"Lord Commander."
Jon turned. Eddison Tollett—Dolorous Edd—stood a few feet away, his face even gloomier than usual.
"There's an army approaching from the south," Edd said. "A lot of men. We can't tell their number from this distance, but even from here we can tell that some of them are on beasts—like horses we've never seen or heard anything like before."
Jon frowned. "From the south?"
"Aye. About a mile out. The scouts spotted them from the tower." Edd shrugged. "Could be Stannis's backup. Could be someone else. Hard to tell from this distance."
Jon said, "Let's go. I need to see."
---
Jon and Edd descended from the Wall and climbed to the battlements above the gate of Castle Black. They found Samwell Tarly there with a few other brothers of the Night's Watch.
The yard below was chaos—brothers of the Night's Watch moving about, some to the armory, some to the walls, some just trying to stay out of the way. Jon ignored them. His eyes were fixed on the southern horizon.
The army was still a mile out, but even at this distance, Jon could see that it was not Stannis Baratheon's army.
Stannis's men were ragged, desperate ghosts—starving, freezing, their armor rusted, their banners faded. They had marched north with fire in their hearts, but the cold had doused it.
This army was different.
They moved with discipline. With purpose. Their formation was tight, their banners red and bright even in the grey light and the heavy snow. And at their head, riding horses that looked too large, too dark, too... wrong... were figures that Jon couldn't quite make out.
"See, those beast-like horses are massive, especially those dark ones," Edd muttered beside him.
Samwell said, "Those aren't horses. Those are monsters."
Jon's hand rested on Longclaw's pommel.
"I've seen many things since joining the Night's Watch," Jon said quietly. "Wildlings. White Walkers. Wights. Giants. Mammoths. I've heard of giant snow bears, great elks, giant ice spiders." He paused. "But this... this is something new."
Edd asked, "What should we do, Lord Commander?"
"Nothing," Jon said. "We are the Night's Watch. We took a vow to stay neutral and never choose sides in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of the Seven Kingdoms know that. We're just a bunch of unwanted poor souls, criminals, or bastards dumped here to defend against the wildlings. They will not attack us."
Edd looked at him. "Do you think they are here for Stannis?"
Jon said, "I don't know. But we will find out soon."
---
Stannis's Camp — Half a Mile from Castle Black
Stannis Baratheon stood on the edge of the camp, staring at Jacob's army, which had stopped a mile from Castle Black. The army was barely visible through the heavy snow.
He had come north to save the realm, to prove himself the rightful king, to rally the North to his banner. Instead, he was trapped in a frozen hell—his army starving, some of his mercenaries gone, his cause crumbling like the ice beneath his boots.
Davos Seaworth stood at his side with a few other knights. Davos took out a Myrish eye—a spyglass—and peered through it.
"I don't recognize them, Your Grace," Davos said. "That's not any house sigil I've ever seen. And those horses they're riding—I've never seen or heard about anything like them before."
Stannis said, "Tell me about their sigil."
Davos continued looking through the spyglass at Jacob and his army. "A dragon. Black dragon head on a crimson field."
Stannis said thoughtfully, "The Targaryen sigil is a three-headed red dragon breathing flames on a black field. And there are no Targaryens in Westeros." He paused. "Whoever they are, they're not from the North. The northern houses use wolves, bears, moose—not dragons. Do you recognize any of them?"
Davos shook his head. "No. The ones leading the army look young, and there are a few young girls with them, but they don't look ordinary by any means. And the army behind them—from what I can tell—look like YiTish folk."
Stannis frowned. "YiTish folk?"
"Aye. They are dressing like knights from the Golden Empire of Yi Ti. It is located in the far east of Essos, far beyond the Red Waste and Qarth, Your Grace."
Davos handed the spyglass to Stannis. "Here, take a look, Your Grace."
Stannis took the spyglass and looked at Jacob and his army.
He didn't recognize Jacob or the others. He didn't recognize Sansa or Arya—he had never seen them before. He didn't see Rickon riding his wolf, as the wolf was behind the nightmare horses, keeping its distance from them.
But he paused when he saw Brienne.
Stannis handed the spyglass back to Davos. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. "They are just children leading that army. And I think I've seen one of them before. I just don't remember where."
Melisandre and Stannis's wife, Selyse, emerged from the camp and stood beside them.
Melisandre's red dress was out of place in the snow, but she seemed not to feel the cold. Her red hair moved in the wind like fire. Her eyes were fixed on the approaching army.
Stannis turned to her. "Do you know who they are, my lady?"
Melisandre did not answer. Her gaze skipped over Jacob and his wives, then focused briefly on the nightmare horses. Then she fixed her eyes on the blurred figures of Stiles, Victoria, Arya, Chris, and Kitty on Malia's shoulder. She could feel a terrifying power radiating from them. She could feel the strength of their blood.
"Lady Melisandre," Stannis said, sharper now.
Melisandre blinked. "I can't see them from here, Your Grace." Her voice was uncertain. "But I feel something... something powerful and terrifying coming from them."
Stannis's jaw tightened. "Powerful how?"
Melisandre didn't answer.
Her eyes widened.
She fell to her knees.
Stannis and Davos stepped back. Stannis's wife, Selyse, looked down at Melisandre with something between awe and jealousy.
Then the snow around Melisandre began to melt.
Not slowly—quickly. The ice beneath her knees turned to steaming water. The snow on her red dress evaporated into steam. Her face was pale, her lips trembling.
Then she screamed. Her hands flew to her head. Her eyes squeezed shut.
"Melisandre!" Stannis stepped toward her, but Davos caught his arm.
"Wait, Your Grace."
Melisandre's body shook. The heat from her body grew stronger and hotter, forcing Stannis, his wife Selyse, Davos, and a few knights to back away from her. The snow within a circle of four meters around her had melted completely, turning into muddy, steaming ground.
And in her head, a voice spoke.
It was deep. Ancient. Terrible. And yet... kind. Gentle. Like a father speaking to a beloved child.
'Melisandre. My child.'
Melisandre's breath caught. Tears streamed down her face.
'I have watched you. I have guided you. And now, I speak to you directly, because the time has come for great work.'
She tried to speak but couldn't.
'Burn a hundred men in my name. Burn the child of the man you serve—the girl Shireen, whose blood carries the fire of Valyrian kings. Burn her in my name. Do this, and I will give you and Stannis power enough to defeat your enemies. All of them. The false kings in the south. The ones who oppose you here in the north. Even the Night King and his army of the dead.'
The voice paused.
'I can feel powerful blood among those who approach. Capture them and their dark horses at any cost. Burn them in my name. Their blood is strong—stronger than any I have tasted before. Burn them in my name, and I will help you fulfill your destiny and save the world.'
The voice faded.
Melisandre opened her eyes. The steam stopped rising. The snow began to fall again, dusting her red hair with white.
She stood.
Her face was radiant. Her smile was excited.
"Your Grace," she said, her voice trembling with joy. "The Lord spoke to me. He spoke directly to me."
Stannis's eyes widened. "What did the Lord say?"
Melisandre clasped her hands together. "He said he will lend us power. Enough power to defeat our enemies. All of them." Her voice rose. "Your Grace, you are truly the Lord's Chosen. He has spoken your name to me. He has promised you victory."
Stannis's jaw tightened. "What must we do?"
Melisandre's smile did not waver. "The Lord requires a sacrifice. A hundred men, their blood will feed the fire." She did not hesitate—not for a moment—and continued with an excited smile. "And Princess Shireen. Her blood carries the fire of kings. She must be given to the Lord."
Stannis was silent.
Selyse stepped forward. Her face was not horrified. It was not grief-stricken. It was filled with fanaticism and relief.
"It is a good thing," Selyse said to her husband, her voice cold and certain. "Shireen can be useful. Finally. And you can fulfill your destiny."
Davos exploded.
"No." He stepped between Stannis and Melisandre. "No, Your Grace. You cannot. She is your daughter. Your flesh and blood. You cannot burn her."
Stannis's eyes were cold. "Stand aside, Davos."
Davos did not move. "I have served you faithfully for years. I have given you everything. But I will not stand by while you murder an innocent girl."
Melisandre's voice was soft. "It is not murder, Ser Davos. It is sacrifice. It is holy. The Lord demands it, and the Lord rewards those who obey."
Davos turned on her. "You speak of your Lord as if he were good. But what good demands the burning of children? You and your lord are just unnatural, evil demons."
Melisandre's eyes held no anger. Only pity. "You do not understand, Ser Davos. You cannot see the flames. You cannot hear the Lord's voice. But I can. And I tell you, this is the only way."
Davos drew his sword. "I will not let you burn Shireen at the stake. She is a sweet, innocent girl. I will kill you before you do that, you evil demonic witch."
Stannis raised a hand. "Enough. Stop him."
Two of his knights stepped forward. They seized Davos by the arms.
"Take him to his quarters," Stannis said. "He is not to leave. He is not to speak to anyone."
Davos struggled. "Your Grace, please don't do it! I beg you. She's your daughter! If you burn her, you'll be no better than the Mad King. You won't be fit to rule. You're not even fit to be a father. I beg you—don't do it..."
Stannis turned his back.
The knights knocked Davos out and dragged him away.
Stannis looked at Melisandre. "The hundred men. Where do I find them?"
Melisandre smiled. "There are men in your camp who are not loyal. Men who speak of desertion. Men who would run the moment the battle turns against us." Her voice was honey. "They are non-believers and deserters, Your Grace. They would hang anyway. Let their deaths serve a greater purpose." She paused. "And I think Ser Davos should be offered to the Lord too, for calling the Lord a demon."
Stannis nodded slowly. "I will have them arrested. Davos will burn with them too."
"What of Shireen?" Selyse asked. Her voice was eager.
Stannis's face was cold. "I will speak to her myself."
He walked toward his daughter's tent deeper in the camp.
---
Shireen's Tent
The tent was warm—warmer than most. Shireen had been given extra furs, extra charcoal, because she was the king's daughter.
She sat on her cot, reading. The book was old, its leather cover cracked, its pages yellowed. It was a history of the Targaryen kings—the ones who had ridden dragons, who had conquered Westeros, who had burned their enemies to ash.
Shireen had always been fascinated by dragons.
She looked up when her father entered.
"Father." She smiled—a shy, happy smile. Her greyscale scarring pulled at the corner of her mouth, but she didn't try to hide it. Not from him.
Stannis sat beside her.
"Shireen," he said. His voice was softer than it usually was. Almost gentle. "I need to speak with you."
She set down her book. "Is something wrong?"
Stannis looked at her—really looked at her—and for a moment, something flickered in his cold eyes. Something that might have been love. Or guilt. Or both.
"I am fighting for the throne," he said. "You know this. It is my duty. My destiny. I was chosen."
Shireen nodded. "I know, Father."
"But the path is hard," Stannis continued. "Harder than I imagined. My army is starving. My men are freezing. My enemies are many." He paused. "I need... help. Help that only the Lord of Light can provide."
Shireen's brow furrowed. "Lady Melisandre says the Lord speaks to her. That he sees the future in the flames."
"He spoke to her today," Stannis said. "He told her that he will give me power. Enough power to win. But there is a price."
Shireen waited.
"A sacrifice," Stannis said. "A heavy sacrifice. One that only a king can make." He looked into her eyes. "You are a princess, Shireen. Your blood carries the fire of kings. The Lord... he needs you."
Shireen did not understand. Not yet. She only heard that her father needed her and thought that she might become like Melisandre and serve the Lord of Light.
"Then I will help," she said. "I want to help. I want you to win, Father. I want you to be king."
Stannis's hand covered hers. "You are a good daughter. A brave daughter."
Shireen smiled. "I would do anything for you, Father. I'm your daughter. I'm Princess Shireen of House Baratheon."
Stannis nodded. He stood. He did not look back.
As he walked out of the tent, Shireen picked up her book again. She turned the page and continued reading about dragons with a happy smile.
She did not understand what the sacrifice really meant.
---
Stannis's Camp — The Arrests
The arrests began quickly.
Stannis's knights raced against time before Jacob's army arrived. They moved through the camp with swords drawn, dragging men from their tents, from their fires, from their sleep. The soldiers cried out—"What have I done?" "I am innocent!" "Where are you taking me?"—but the knights did not answer.
They had their orders.
Men who had spoken of desertion. Men who had complained about the cold. Men who had doubted Stannis's cause. Men who had looked at the starving horses and the empty supply wagons and whispered that the king was losing. Or simply men who weren't pleasing to the eyes of Stannis's Stormland fanatics and loyalist knights.
Those men were all arrested.
Within minutes, soldiers and Davos were being tied to stakes in a clearing not far from the camp. The stakes were driven deep into the frozen ground. Wood was piled at their feet—dry wood, soaked in oil, ready to catch.
Some of the men wept. Some prayed. Some screamed.
The knights didn't care about their screams and begging. They kept bringing more soldiers and tying them.
---
Jacob and His Army
Jacob had ordered the army to stop when he first saw Melisandre appear next to Stannis.
"Girls, do you feel that?" he asked.
Allison, Lydia, Malia, and Sansa—who were supernatural creatures—and even Arya, now a werewolf, fixed their glowing eyes on Melisandre in the distance.
Allison said, "That woman in red feels evil. Just like the witches we fought in Beacon Hills preserve. And she gives off a repulsive feeling, like the yeti."
Arya growled. "I feel it too. I feel an instinctual urge to kill her." Her eyes narrowed. "That's the Red Woman, by the way. The evil witch."
Jacob raised a hand. "Shh. She's saying something. Let me hear."
Everyone went silent.
Jacob, Malia, Lydia, Arya, and Sansa listened. Even Allison listened—as a Wind Fairy (Air Fairy), becoming an Alpha had given her the ability to control sound, because sound is simply the vibration of air molecules. Anyone who can manipulate air can naturally manipulate sound waves. Although her sound control wasn't as strong as Lydia's, she could amplify sounds to listen.
A few moments later, all of their expressions turned ugly.
They had heard Melisandre telling Stannis to sacrifice his men. Worse, to sacrifice his own daughter. And he had agreed.
Malia growled. "Let's go kill them now."
Jacob said, "Calm down. We will save the little girl and Davos. And we will kill the witch, Stannis, and his fanatic followers." His voice hardened. "Just not yet."
Malia demanded, "What are we waiting for?"
Jacob's smile was cold. "I want Stannis's army to witness him trying to burn his men and even his daughter. I want to know who is against that—and who thinks what Stannis is doing is right and follows him blindly." His eyes narrowed. "Those fanatics? We'll kill them all."
Cogman smirked. "I hope there are too many of them."
Victoria looked confused. "Burning his daughter? What are you talking about?"
Allison quickly explained to her mother and the rest what they had heard Melisandre say to Stannis—and how Davos was the only one against burning Shireen.
Victoria, Chris, Stiles, Brienne, Kai, Ōishi, and the rest of the samurai who heard Allison's explanation all grew angry.
Jacob raised a hand. "I know you want to kill them. But be patient. Wait a little bit."
Just then, a system window appeared in front of Jacob's eyes.
[System Notification]
[Quest Sign-In Available: You can sign in after defeating Stannis and his army, killing Stannis and the Red Woman Melisandre, and saving Princess Shireen, Host.]
[Location Sign-In Available: You can sign in on top of the Wall, Host.]
Jacob smirked. 'Sweet. Two sign-ins at once.'
Aloud, he said, "Alright. Let's get closer to Castle Black. Let Stannis prepare for war and finish preparing for his evil ritual. I'll go there and save Shireen and the other men tied to the stakes before they get burned."
With that, they started heading toward Castle Black again.
---
Castle Black
Jon Snow and his men watched Stannis's camp from the battlements.
They could barely see the knights moving through Stannis's camp. They saw the stakes being driven into the ground and men being tied to them. They saw the wood being piled under the stakes.
"Looks like the king's men are planning to burn those men, just like Mance Rayder," Edd said beside him. "But those are his own men. Why would he burn them?"
Jon said nothing. His eyes were fixed on Stannis's camp.
"Lord Commander," Samwell said quietly. "The approaching army stopped again."
Jon turned to Jacob's army.
The army had halted again. They were closer now—a quarter of a mile. Through the snow, he could see the riders at the front: men and women both, riding horses that seemed to breathe smoke.
And at their head, a young man on a huge black stallion. He wore dark clothes. A red cape flowed behind him.
The riders at the front were conferring with one another. Then three figures broke away from the group—a woman with red hair, riding one of those giant black horses; a small girl with short hair, riding a brown horse not much smaller than the large black ones; and a boy on a black direwolf.
They didn't go toward Stannis's army. They were coming toward the gate of Castle Black.
Jon squinted his eyes and focused on the three figures as they got closer and closer.
Then his eyes went wide. A joyful smile appeared on his face.
"Open the gate!" Jon shouted. "I'll go meet them."
Edd grabbed his arm. "That could be a trap."
Jon looked at him with a smile. "That's not a trap. Those are my sisters and brother."
Samwell and Edd both said in shock, "What?"
Jon ignored them and ran down the stairs, shouting, "Open the south gate!"
Chapter 198: Reunion with JonJune 9
The south gate of Castle Black groaned open, its iron hinges protesting the cold.
Jon Snow didn't wait for it to fully open. He squeezed through the gap and walked into the snow, his black cloak billowing behind him.
The three riders approached slowly. The first was a girl with short hair and a fierce face that Jon would have recognized anywhere. The second was a boy, sitting astride a black direwolf that was nearly as large as a horse. The third was a young woman with blue eyes and long, flowing red hair, wearing a dark blue gown with a sigil Jon didn't recognize on her chest.
The three of them dismounted.
Arya didn't walk. She ran.
She crashed into Jon like a small missile, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Her shoulders shook. Her hands gripped his cloak like she was afraid he would disappear.
Jon held her tight. His eyes were wet.
"I'm so glad you're alive," she whispered.
Jon's throat tightened. "I'm glad you're alive too. I thought you were dead. I thought you were all dead."
"We're not dead. We're here." Arya said.
Rickon walked up next, slower, more hesitant. Shaggydog padded behind him.
Jon pulled back from Arya and looked at his youngest brother. His face broke into a smile.
"Rickon," he said. "Look at you. You've become a man."
Rickon smiled, though his eyes were wet. "I've grown."
He stepped forward, and Jon pulled him into a hug. Shaggydog sniffed Jon's hand, then licked it, tail wagging.
Then Sansa.
She stood a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her, her expression uncertain. She didn't know what to say to him. The last time they had seen each other, they had been children—and she had been mean to him.
He stepped toward her. "Sansa."
She hesitated. Then Jon closed the distance and pulled her into his arms.
Sansa stiffened for a heartbeat—then she wrapped her arms around him.
They stood like that for a moment.
Finally, Sansa pulled back and wiped her eyes. She looked at Jon and smiled.
"You've become a beautiful lady," Jon said. "Like you always wanted to be."
Sansa laughed. "I wanted to be a queen. I didn't know what that meant back then."
Jon's smile was soft. "And now?"
Sansa glanced back at Jacob, who was still mounted on Shadow, watching from a respectful distance. "Now I'm a queen anyway."
Jon followed her gaze. "Who is he?"
"My husband," Sansa said.
Jon studied Jacob for a moment—the dark scaled armor, the red cape, the sigil of the black dragon, the massive black stallion beneath him, a beast that breathed steam like a dragon.
"He looks... dangerous," Jon said.
Sansa smiled. "He is. But not to us."
Sansa's smile faded. "Jon, I need to apologize. For how I treated you. For calling you half-brother. For making you feel like you didn't belong." Her voice cracked. "I was cruel. I was stupid. And I'm so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?"
Jon shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive. We were children."
Sansa's tone turned playful but demanding. "That's not good enough. Forgive me."
Jon blinked. "What?"
"Forgive me," she repeated, a hint of her old stubbornness creeping into her voice. "I won't feel better until you say it."
Jon stared at her for a moment—then laughed. A real laugh, warm and genuine.
"You are forgiven," he said.
Sansa hugged him again. "I'm really glad to see you alive and well."
Jon hugged her back. "I'm glad to see all three of you alive and well."
Arya and Rickon joined the hug. The four Starks stood together in the snow, holding each other, letting the years of separation and grief and fear finally drain away.
---
They broke apart when Jacob's army began to arrive.
The ground trembled. Horses' hooves pounded against the frozen earth. Banners snapped in the wind.
Jon watched them move in perfect formation: samurai in red armor with gleaming swords atop powerful horses. Behind them, foot soldiers marched in step, their spears rising and falling in unison.
And at their head, the young man on the black stallion.
Jacob dismounted and walked toward them. His boots crunched in the snow. His red cape billowed behind him.
Sansa stepped forward and took his hand. "Jon, this is my husband. Jacob."
Jacob extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Jon."
Jon shook it. Jacob's grip was firm—but not crushing. His eyes were warm, not cold.
"Likewise," Jon said.
Jacob broke the handshake and looked toward Stannis's camp. His expression hardened.
"I'd love to chat," he said, "but right now I'm busy. I have a princess to save and a witch to kill."
Jon's brow furrowed. "You're here for Stannis?"
Jacob turned to Jon. "No. I'm here for you and the Free Folk. Stannis is just a bug I'm going to step on."
"Jay!" Lydia called out from her horse.
Jacob's head snapped toward Stannis's camp. He heard Shireen screaming—begging her parents not to burn her. His eyes glowed red—bright, burning, inhuman—making Jon take an involuntary step back.
"I heard," Jacob said, his voice low.
Victoria dismounted and walked to Jacob's side. "Take me with you. I want to see what kind of mother would burn her own daughter alive."
Jacob nodded. He looked at Ōishi. "Ōishi, get your men ready for war. I want to see what you guys are capable of."
Ōishi bowed. "Right away, Your Grace."
Jacob looked at Kai. "Use your supernatural powers. Don't hide them."
Kai nodded. "I will, Your Grace."
Jacob looked at Victoria. "Ready?"
She nodded.
"Alright," Jacob said. "We'll be right back."
He and Victoria vanished.
Jon stared at the empty space where they had been.
"Sansa," he said slowly, "is your husband a sorcerer?"
Sansa smiled. "No. He's not a sorcerer. He's someone with supernatural powers." She paused. "So am I. And Arya."
Jon's eyes widened. "What?"
Arya smirked. "I can fight an army of a thousand people alone and win. I can even turn into a wolf."
Jon's voice was tight. "Aren't you just witches with magical powers?"
Allison dismounted and walked over.
"No," she said. "Witches borrow their power from other creatures—demons, spirits, or things like that. Our powers are innate. They come from our own bodies." She met Jon's eyes. "We're supernatural creatures."
Jon asked, "Are you not human?"
Allison shrugged. "Not anymore, I suppose."
She jumped.
Straight up.
She landed on the battlements above the gate—thirty feet in the air—as easily as if she had stepped off a curb.
Jon's mouth dropped open.
Malia jumped up beside her. Then Lydia teleported to stand between them. The three girls stood on the battlements, their eyes glowing—Allison's and Malia's red, Lydia's white—all staring toward Stannis's camp.
The few brothers of the Night's Watch on the battlements backed away in fear.
Jon turned to his sisters. "Seriously. Who are these people? Where are they from?"
Sansa smiled. "Jacob will explain everything later."
Arya said, "By the way, we came here to take you home. You're not staying in this frozen wasteland."
Jon shook his head. "I can't leave. Someone has to guard the Wall. Someone has to keep the things beyond the Wall from coming south."
Arya said, "You're talking about the Night King and his army."
Jon's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about them?"
"Jacob told us," Arya said. "And we'll deal with them when he says so." She crossed her arms. "Believe me when I say they're not a problem."
Jon's voice was sharp. "You haven't seen them. They're hard to kill. They—"
Arya cut him off. "And you haven't seen our powers." She gestured to Allison, Malia, and Lydia on the battlements. "Each of Jacob's wives is terrifyingly strong. Including Sansa. And Jacob is even stronger than all of them combined. He's a monster. A true monster. You'll be shocked when you see his powers, and when you find out what he really is."
Jon caught something. "Wait. Wives? He has more than one?"
Arya nodded toward Allison and the others. "Those three and Sansa are his wives. And there's another one who isn't with us." She smiled at Jon. "Are you jealous, brother?"
Jon stammered. "Wh-what? No... No, of course not."
Sansa smiled. "Don't worry. We'll find you a few good wives if you want. Jacob said he'll change the rules of Westeros after he takes over. Men will be able to marry multiple wives if they choose."
Jon stared at her. "And you're... happy? Sharing your husband with other women?"
Sansa's smile didn't waver. "I'm more than happy."
Jon looked at Arya.
Arya shrugged. "I don't understand love and marriage. And we both know Sansa is a lovesick fool." She paused. "But I can tell you she's happy. That I'm sure of."
Sansa changed the subject. "Anyway, we have some good news."
Jon looked at her. "What good news?"
Sansa's voice softened. "Bran is still alive. He's beyond the Wall."
Jon's breath caught. "What?"
Arya added, "And Jacob said Uncle Benjen is still alive beyond the Wall too. Though he's cursed by the White Walkers' dark ice magic. He needs to be saved."
Jon's face changed. Joy, hope, disbelief—all of it flickered across his features.
"Bran?" he said. "Uncle Benjen? They're alive?"
Sansa nodded. "Yes. We'll go get them after we deal with Stannis." Her voice turned firm. "After that, we're going to Winterfell. And you're coming with us. Don't think you can stay here at Castle Black."
Jon opened his mouth to argue.
Sansa raised a hand. "Don't. You're our brother. You belong with us. Not freezing on a wall at the edge of the world."
Jon looked at her—at this woman who had been a vain, selfish girl when he last saw her, now standing before him like a queen.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I'll come."
Sansa smiled.
---
Stannis's Camp — The Clearing
The clearing was a nightmare.
A hundred stakes had been driven into the frozen ground, forming a rough semicircle around a central pyre. Wood was piled at the base of each stake—dry wood, soaked in oil, ready to catch.
Men were tied to the stakes. Some wept. Some prayed. Some screamed.
One man was not screaming.
Davos Seaworth stood tied to his stake, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the figure being dragged toward the empty stake at the center of the clearing.
Shireen.
The princess was struggling against the two knights who held her arms. Her small boots kicked at the frozen ground. Her voice was high and terrified.
"No! No! Let me go! Please!"
The knights ignored her. They tied her to the stake with thick ropes, pulling them tight across her chest, her waist, her wrists. Shireen's face was white with terror.
"Father!" she screamed. "Mother! Please! Don't let them do this!"
The army watched from the edge of the clearing. Some were terrified. Some were already plotting their escape. And some—the fanatics—watched with eager eyes.
Stannis stood among his loyal knights, his face cold. His eyes never left his daughter, but he did not move.
Beside him, Selyse stood rigid, her hands clasped in front of her. Her lips moved silently—praying, perhaps, or convincing herself that this was right.
Melisandre walked forward, holding a torch.
She stopped in front of Shireen's stake and raised the torch high.
"The Lord of Light requires a sacrifice," Melisandre announced, her voice carrying across the clearing. "A king's blood. A princess's blood. The fire will consume her, and the Lord will grant us victory."
Shireen's cries grew louder. More desperate. "No! Please! Father! Father, please!"
Davos shouted, "Melisandre! You evil bitch! She's a child! She's an innocent child! Let her go!"
Melisandre ignored him.
"Stannis!" Davos roared. "You coward! You weak, miserable coward! She's your daughter! Your blood! If you let her burn, you're not a king—you're nothing! You're just a piece of shit!"
Shireen's voice cracked. "Father? Where are you, Father? Please—"
Stannis and Selyse stepped out from among their soldiers.
They stood at the edge of the clearing and looked at their daughter.
Shireen saw them. "Father! Mother! Please! Don't burn me! Please!"
They did not move. They did not speak.
They just stared.
Shireen stared at her mother—at the woman who had never loved her, who had barely touched her, who had looked at her greyscale scars with revulsion.
"Mother?" Shireen's voice was small now. Broken. "Please..."
Melisandre turned to Stannis.
He nodded.
Melisandre raised the torch higher. She began to recite something in a language no one there understood. The flames licked at the air, hungry and eager.
Davos thrashed against his ropes. "No! No! Stop! Someone stop her!"
No one moved.
The men tied to the stakes wept. The soldiers watching from the edges of the clearing looked away. Some of them looked sick. Some of them looked relieved it wasn't them.
Tears streamed down Shireen's cheeks.
"Please," she whispered. "Please, don't burn me!"
Melisandre threw the torch at the oil-soaked wood beneath Shireen's feet.
Just then, Jacob and Victoria appeared out of nowhere.
Jacob waved his hand. The torch extinguished and shattered into splinters before a single spark could reach the oil-soaked wood.
Everyone froze.
Melisandre felt it—for a single heartbeat, when Jacob used his telekinesis, his concealment dropped. She felt the power radiating from him. The sheer, overwhelming force of it.
Her entire body trembled. She took shaky steps backward.
Shireen's eyes went wide as she stared at the two strangers.
Victoria walked toward her. She moved with purpose, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world. She drew a dagger and cut the ropes binding Shireen to the stake.
Shireen's legs gave out. Victoria caught her.
"Th-thank you," Shireen stammered.
Victoria's cold expression softened for just a moment. "You're safe now."
Shireen looked toward her parents. Her mother stood at the edge of the clearing, her face pale. Her father wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were fixed on Jacob.
Tears filled her eyes. She didn't go to them.
Victoria knocked her out with a precise strike to the neck and carried her back to Jacob.
Jacob looked at Davos. He waved his hand.
The ropes binding Davos snapped. The old smuggler fell to the ground, caught himself on his hands, and scrambled to his feet.
"Your name is Davos, right?" Jacob said.
Davos nodded, breathing hard. "Aye."
"Come take care of Shireen."
Davos walked to Victoria and took the unconscious princess from her arms. He held her close, his weathered face creased with grief and relief.
"Thank you, my lady," he said to Victoria. "Thank you for saving her."
Victoria nodded. She looked at Queen Selyse, who was running toward them, crying her daughter's name.
Jacob didn't even glance at Selyse. His eyes were fixed on Melisandre.
Victoria watched Selyse approach. She had planned to scream at her. To curse her. To make her feel an ounce of the pain she had been willing to inflict on her own child.
But looking at the woman's face—the desperate, fanatical, broken face—Victoria felt nothing but disgust.
She sighed.
As Selyse ran past her, reaching for Shireen, Victoria's dagger flashed.
Selyse fell to the snow, clutching her throat with one hand. Her eyes were still fixed on her unconscious daughter. She tried to reach for her, her fingers stretching toward Shireen's limp form.
She died before she touched her.
Jacob didn't look away from Melisandre. "I thought you wanted to scold her. To torture her even."
Victoria sheathed her dagger. "She wasn't worth it." She glanced at Stannis. "What about him? Should I slice his throat too?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. I need him to lead his army."
Melisandre stared at Jacob and whispered, "W-who are you?"
Jacob didn't bother to answer.
He waved his hand.
Melisandre's neck broke with an audible crack. Her eyes went wide, then empty. She collapsed into the snow, her red hair spreading around her head like a halo of blood.
Jacob waved his hand again. The ropes binding the hundred soldiers at the stakes all snapped at once. The men fell to the ground, gasping, crying, laughing with relief.
Then Jacob stepped forward toward Stannis and his army.
When he spoke, his voice cut through the howling wind, echoing with an unnatural clarity that reached the ears of every single soldier in Stannis's ranks.
"Look at the man you call your king!"
Jacob pointed a dismissive finger at Stannis.
"You have all just witnessed what kind of leader Stannis Baratheon truly is. He is a fanatic. A fool who willingly feeds his own loyal soldiers to the flames because a witch whispered a lie in his ear. A monster who would have happily burned his innocent daughter alive for a crown he will never wear!"
He let the silence hang over the horrified, freezing army. Then he raised his hand.
"I am giving you three choices. Decide your fates now, because I will not offer them a second time.
First: Drop your weapons and leave. Go back to your families, or go find a piece of land to build a new life if you have nowhere to return. Live in peace. But heed my warning—if I ever learn that you have harmed an innocent soul, I will hunt you down and kill you. There will be no mercy. There will be no escaping to the Night's Watch. You will simply die.
Second: Swear allegiance to me. Join my army, and I swear you will not be mistreated. Follow my commands, keep your blades away from the innocent, and I will feed you. I will pay you. And once all of Westeros belongs to me, you will be rewarded more generously than you ever dreamed possible.
Third: Draw your swords against me. Stand alongside your broken king, and I will show you absolutely no mercy. I will slaughter every last one of you who chooses to support a child-killer. I will wipe you out."
Jacob stepped closer, his eyes scanning them.
"My name is Jacob of House Alexander. I am not here to play the petty games of your lords. I am not here to claim the Iron Throne through pathetic schemes, marriages, or birthright. I am here to conquer all of Westeros by absolute force."
Stannis did not care about the death of Melisandre. He did not care about the death of his wife.
But one look at his men—at their faces, pale and uncertain—and panic gripped him. He felt the loyalty of some of them slipping away like sand through his fingers.
Terrified of losing the men he had spent a lifetime commanding, he pointed a finger at Jacob and roared.
"Do not listen to him! Kill him! He is a sorcerer, no different from the red witch!" His voice cracked. "It was Melisandre who bewitched me! She is the one who convinced me to burn my own daughter and my loyal men! This man is just like her—a sorcerer! He will put you all on a sacrificial pyre too!"
Most of the army hesitated.
But ten of Stannis's most fanatical, devoted knights—men blindly loyal to his birthright—drew their blades. With a collective battle cry, they lunged forward to cut Jacob down.
Jacob casually drew his sword, Griffin.
There were no elegant stances. No fancy, choreographed dueling moves. No theatrics.
He moved.
The first knight swung his longsword. Jacob's blade met it—and cut through the steel like parchment. The knight's sword shattered. Jacob's blade continued through the man's armor, through his body, and out the other side.
The knight collapsed in two halves.
The second knight thrust his sword at Jacob's chest. Jacob sidestepped, swung Griffin in a horizontal arc, and bisected him at the waist.
The third knight tried to flank him. Jacob spun, decapitated the man, and used the momentum to bring his blade down on the fourth knight's shoulder, cleaving him from collarbone to hip.
The fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth knights charged together.
Jacob met them head-on. He cut through their swords, their shields, their armor, their bodies. Steel shrieked. Blood sprayed. Men fell.
The ninth knight tried to run.
Jacob's blade caught him in the back before he had taken three steps.
The tenth knight—the last one—dropped his sword and fell to his knees, begging. Jacob's expression didn't change. The blade swept across the man's throat.
Jacob sheathed Griffin with a soft click.
The clearing was silent.
Every single man stared in frozen, paralyzing shock. The bodies of the ten knights lay scattered across the crimson-stained snow—cut in half, decapitated, cleaved. The entire exchange had taken less than ten seconds.
Victoria stood unmoved, her expression entirely calm, having already known the extent of his terrifying strength.
Jacob turned back to the trembling Stannis and his army and spoke loudly once more.
"I am no sorcerer. I am a man with supernatural powers. My power is my own. You have heard of people like me before—in the Targaryens who could walk through raging fires unscathed and control dragons, and in the wargs who could possess the minds of beasts to fight for them."
He stepped over the shattered remains of the ten knights.
"I am not a follower of the false, parasitic gods like R'hllor, the Old Gods, or the Seven. I believe only in the One True God—the source of all existence. The Creator who created everything and wasn't born or created. He requires no human sacrifices. A God who doesn't need anyone's help."
"I will never sacrifice you. I ask only for your swords, your discipline, and your absolute obedience to my laws. Do this, and you will never be mistreated. The choice is yours."
He let the silence hang.
"Those who wish to live, to eat, and to conquer under my banner—step forward and stand behind me."
The soldiers looked at each other, uncertain.
Davos was the first to move. He walked forward, Shireen still cradled in his arms. "I will follow you, Your Grace. If you'll have an old fool like me."
Jacob looked at him with a smile. "You're a good and brave man, Davos. You are welcome to join me."
The hundred men who had been tied to the stakes—the ones Stannis had been about to burn—stepped forward next. They walked behind Jacob and knelt in the snow.
"We are willing to follow you, Your Grace," one of them said. The others murmured their agreement.
Then the sellswords moved—the paid mercenaries Stannis had hired using the Iron Bank's gold. They looked at each other, nodded, and walked behind Jacob. Two thousand men knelt in the snow, their heads bowed.
Jacob turned to the men kneeling behind him. "Good. As long as you don't hurt the innocent, you will be my people. And I take care of my people."
He gestured. "Now get up. I don't like people kneeling to me. From now on, you will salute me like this."
He demonstrated a salute.
Davos and the two thousand soldiers saluted him back. The sound of two thousand hands snapping to attention echoed across the clearing.
Jacob turned to Stannis.
"I will give you five hours to get ready for war. After that, I will attack with my army." His smile was cold. "So get ready. Command your army to fight against mine and die an honorable death." He paused. "And hey, you might even win."
Then Jacob wrapped Victoria, Davos, the unconscious Shireen, the two thousand men, and even Melisandre's body in his telekinesis.
And vanished.
Stannis and the remaining soldiers—about four thousand men—stood in shocked silence, staring at the empty space where two thousand men had been.
Some of the Stormland knights—men who had been fiercely loyal to Stannis for years—began to panic. Their king had tried to burn his own daughter. His witch was dead. His wife was dead. Two thousand of his men had just disappeared into thin air.
Stannis's face was emotionless, but his hands were shaking.
He turned to his men and began barking orders. "Get ready for war!"
His voice cracked, but his men obeyed.
He called one of his loyal knights. "Ride to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Find Captain Salladhor Saan. Tell him to bring every man he has. We need them here. Now."
The knight mounted his horse, and rode hard toward the east.
Stannis watched him go.
Four thousand men remained. Four thousand men against... what? He didn't even know. He had seen Jacob's power. He had seen him cut through ten knights like a scythe through wheat. He had seen him vanish with two thousand men as if they had never been there.
But Stannis Baratheon had never surrendered. And he would not start now.