[Chapter Size: 2100 Words.]
Third Person POV.
North.
...
...
"Let's go, men. It's time to hunt some squids," Daemon said as they observed the camp of at least five hundred ironborn, six hundred meters away.
They had eliminated all the scouts around the camp and were preparing two thousand horsemen, separated from the main group, to attack the ironborn gathering in the west while their objective was to retreat.
Daemon walked over to his horse before looking at the nervous boy with the Cerwyn sigil on his chest. Cley Cerwyn, the heir Jon had insisted on keeping with his company in the North.
The boy was very young, but he needed to learn, and it was a way to earn respect in the North.
"Get ready. Everyone mount up!" Daemon commanded as they organized themselves in the darkness of night. He walked over to his horse, snorting, before mounting it.
"We'll have a few minutes to get there. They'll surely see us by the torches, but they won't be able to organize a defense before we start burning their camp. It'll be an easy victory. Light the torches!" Daemon demanded.
Quickly, a man ran with a torch in hand, handing one to each mounted soldier to light theirs. The group began to glow in every direction, and Daemon couldn't waste more time, as they had probably already been heard.
"I'll go ahead to lead, don't stray from your guards and try to find me in the middle of the battle." Jon gave his final words to the boy, who nodded.
"Advance!" he exclaimed as his eyes returned to the camp, raising the Ice sword and striking his horse, which charged forward.
Quickly, the group of riders charged toward the enemy camp. They were no longer in Cerwyn territory, as they were advancing directly west, instead of marching north toward Winterfell.
For days now, his men had been moving separately from the main group to improve the march, unlike the ironborn, who were still pillaging the North, believing the ten-thousand-man force led by Daemon would be marching through southern Stark territory to join the troops besieging the castle. Jon was advancing to catch them by surprise.
Since Winterfell seemed to be the most important target, the ironborn likely didn't expect an attack from another direction.
Daemon thought differently and forced his army westward, even marching through the night for two days, not allowing his men to sleep much, only resting enough for the horses to continue.
He used some herbs he cultivated in the North to keep them awake, as he wanted to surprise the ironborn with an unexpected attack.
While the enemies believed Daemon was still far off, they were caught off guard when the attack began that night.
Quickly, screams began to echo through the camp, announcing the enemy assault with a cavalry of two thousand men, but it was already too late for them when Daemon's group was so close.
The men prepared themselves in a disorganized manner, becoming easy prey as the first horses stormed the tents with Daemon riding, massacring those who screamed and ran in desperation to face him, wielding Ice more effectively on horseback for its length, while the camp caught fire as other men threw flaming torches.
Chaos took over. Daemon's entire group was already in the middle of the enemy camp, mercilessly slaughtering them.
A great panic spread, and soon the first began to flee upon seeing the overwhelming number of soldiers — more than three times their own — being unleashed upon the camp.
As the survivors tried to escape, direwolves attacked them from the other side, while also leading a pack of common wolves that hunted them like prey.
A little over an hour later, the screams ceased. The place was already filled with enemy corpses.
Daemon was satisfied before cleaning his sword, drying it on the last men who had tried to hide. His gaze fell on the boy surrounded by eight Cerwyn men; he looked terrified by what he had seen that night.
"You did well." Jon gave a nod of approval. He knew the boy had killed a man who attacked him as he fell from his horse. His armor was stained with blood, and his eyes still held a haunted look.
After speaking with the boy a little more, he returned to the center of the camp as the flames spread through several tents. He wanted to gather what could be salvaged from the ironborn and take everything — without surprises — rescuing the women who had been captured and used as slaves.
It didn't take long before Daemon heard a commotion. He made his way to the center of the camp, with people clearing a path for him as he cast a questioning glance.
"We found these two raping two female prisoners in the tents," one of the free folk men reported.
Daemon sighed. "Very well. Bring them to that platform," Daemon ordered, seeing a type of bench used by the ironborn.
"Lord, they are ours by right!" they tried to plead.
"I don't want to hear it." Daemon spat, with everyone already knowing what he was going to do. It was a common occurrence with men unable to control their balls during a campaign.
"I don't care if you take women in the North to your beds. I believe it will be fairly easy when young men and adults are dying all over the North, leaving behind many widows or young women with no options for marriage. But I won't tolerate this kind of crime — especially with people who've just escaped the clutches of the ironborn. There is no forgiveness, and you will die for it," Daemon said.
And no matter how much they begged, their heads were cut off, rolling to the ground in a silent execution as everyone awaited further orders.
"Now search for any supplies we can save before this place goes entirely up in flames. We'll be resting all day starting tomorrow," Daemon said.
His men began moving through the parts of the camp the flames hadn't yet reached. At least the 500 Cerwyn men who were with them were much more organized and obeyed his laws.
The men of House Cerwyn didn't like being alongside men from north of the Wall, but there was no other choice.
In the end, they learned to stand together.
After they set up camp near the enemy's, leaving the corpses of the dead men and enemies to burn, everyone ended up resting for a day, just as Daemon had proposed, and resumed their march during the night, eliminating any curious eyes from the enemy that came too close.
Daemon didn't have a fixed plan now, having changed his original one as he investigated the movements of the ironborn and the Boltons through his birds.
The Boltons were no longer the same threat at this point. And if he were to focus on Winterfell, he would have easily cut off the ironborn's escape from the North — not to mention Roose Bolton would most likely give up on staying in the North.
That was already a problem Daemon wanted to deal with, but he also didn't want to miss the chance to hunt down Ramsay Bolton.
He was still advancing toward Moat Cailin, or at least what remained of it. Daemon wanted to mock that man — that damn sadistic bastard. He thought he had everything under control. That cost him dearly when Daemon turned his own dogs against him, having them kill him in his tent while he was sleeping with that mistress of his.
There was also another person Daemon wanted to capture: Theon's sister. And she wasn't doing well either, after the owl attacked her through his warg abilities.
She was north of there, but fleeing, trying to reach the coast. Perhaps this wouldn't be the moment to deal with her. Between her and Ramsay Snow, the damned bastard, it was more worthwhile to kill him than wait for him to head south with his father.
Daemon then made his decision. He would launch his attacks on the ironborn with his ten thousand men, while the two thousand that were with him would continue striking scattered camps in the region, and the other group of eight thousand was marching close behind.
He also did not summon Winter back to the present — she remained in the region, and he sent an order for her to come to him.
It was time to use the dragon again.
And so they advanced toward Torrhen's Square. House Tallhart was having a lot of trouble, with young Tallhart still trapped under siege and confined to his castle.
It took a few days, but they were finally arriving. And it wasn't much of a surprise when the ironborn, already aware of the two-thousand-strong group of free folk and Cerwyns — Jon had let the scouts spot them.
They believed they could stop them on their own, abandoning the siege of Torrhen's Square. It was when they met in open field that the ironborn rushed toward them, being a day's distance apart — more than four thousand of them running to reach Daemon.
But the next day, what Daemon and the others found was nothing but an entire field frozen over.
There lay more than three thousand frozen corpses.
"The sounds we heard during the night were them!" Tormund approached Daemon, looking at the destruction before them, eyeing the frozen field in the distance, not wanting to get closer as he questioned.
Daemon had only one answer, and he smiled as Winter had acted before them.
"Our path to Torrhen's Square is clear. Let's just go around this frozen field — the air is dangerous for our lungs," Jon replied, and they began to move again.
Winter should be flying somewhere nearby, since she had done the work of eliminating that group during the night, while Daemon slept with his wives. He had been the one controlling Winter, launching a nighttime assault, and her roars had reached far as Tormund questioned them.
Jon's campaign was going easier than expected. Stannis was also having problems in the south. Without ships, they had to remain in House Locke's territory — they were trapped in the North.
Daemon invited young Grey to assist him in his tent and began writing letters before resuming the march, sending one to the Gift, demanding they bring Daenerys and her cousins to Winterfell with another fifty thousand men, while at the same time sending a letter directly to the command of the thirty-five thousand men in Bolton territory, requesting them to join the siege of Winterfell.
There were still ironborn in the Wolfwood, and surely, upon seeing a group of forty thousand men, they would flee the North. But there was nothing to be done for now.
A day later, they were finally at House Tallhart, and no ironborn remained to maintain the siege. All had fled after what happened.
"My lord! Are you... of Daemon Targaryen?" a knight of House Tallhart approached as a messenger under a flag of peace, his tone nervous as he saw the banners of House Cerwyn along with the heir in Daemon's group.
"That's His Majesty!" the boy said, gaining some confidence to begin speaking on his own.
"No offense taken when I didn't see Lord Tallhart kneeling before me," Jon said before continuing. "I am Daemon Targaryen and King of the Seven Kingdoms. I assume you came here because Lord Tallhart wants to greet us," Daemon said as the messenger nodded.
"Yes. He would like to invite you with bread and salt into the castle, to speak. After hearing so much about your deeds, my lord wishes to come to an agreement with you — especially after you somehow killed all the ironborn... We promise no harm will come. We are not Bolton, or Frey, or Lannister, to strike our own guest, my lord — I mean, Your Majesty," the man said, trying to make that very clear.
Daemon nodded. "Very well," he said and returned to his men.
"We'll set camp outside the castle. I will greet young Tallhart," Daemon said, remembering the boy who used to visit Winterfell, the same age as him and Robb at the time — though he was often left aside, while the boy had been good friends with Theon and Robb.
It would be interesting to speak with him about Theon — after all, Daemon had learned that Theon was also at the siege before attacking Winterfell, bringing men from this very place.
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