The Northern Dragon

CH 39: MHYSA (1/2)

– The Twins –

Roose Bolton held a dagger covered in blood as he reached the top of the walls. From up there, he could see the Northern-River encampment.

The men who had previously been enjoying the festivities were now screaming and wailing as they were slaughtered by their own comrades. The Bolton and Frey troops together were enough to overwhelm the Northern-River soldiers who were already drunk and dizzy. Even if they hadn't given the soldiers medicine to lower their inhibitions, the traitors vastly outnumbered them.

From high above, Roose Bolton could hear those men dying. Men who he had fought alongside with. Flames erupted all over the encampment as the tents and Stark banners were burned to the ground.

The Freys and Boltons were ruthless. Killing the Northern-River soldiers wasn't enough. They had to make them suffer as well. Many Northern-River soldiers were hung from trees, burned alive, or had their limbs chopped off and their bodies dragged through the ground.

The traitors were enjoying themselves. They didn't try to hide it. War was capable of awakening the monster hidden inside anyone. Since all the highborns that needed to be captured were inside the dining hall, the traitors didn't need to hold back.

Ser Sandor Clegane sat on top of a horse by the gate to the Twins. He wasn't sure whether to approach the massacre or remain at the back. The spillage of blood didn't bother him but the fire kind of did.

However, Arya Stark of Winterfell was held in his arms now. The half-conscious girl was placed in front of him on the horse. If they were caught, he would be killed as a deserter and Arya, if anyone recognized her later, it would be a kindness if they killed her instead of keeping her.

They had to leave now, before anyone noticed them.

To think he had only taunted Arya just a few hours earlier because she couldn't remove her eyes from the Twins, feeling as if her family would disappear the next second. As it turned out, her fears had become reality, and the gold he hoped to get from the Starks for returning her, had disappeared with them.

As much as he wished to curse his luck, Ser Sandor still thought fast and grabbed a Frey banner before making the horse trot forward. He only managed to take a couple of steps, however, as a cart covered in flames rolled in front of him. Both Ser Sandor and the horse were startled, preferring not to move.

It was those seconds of hesitation that allowed a crowd of soldiers emerging from the tower to reach them. The soldiers fortunately didn't glance at Ser Sandor or the now awakened Arya.

They were all too busy pointing their swords to the sky and repeatedly chanting "King in the North!"

In the center of the chanting crowd was a horse they were pulling along. A man's body was tied with rope to the horse, a wooden log keeping the body sitting straight. On the man's chest, two silver direwolves held his cloak. But in the place where the man's head was meant to be was a wolf's head instead.

Arya locked her eyes on that corpse. She hadn't seen Grey Wind in so long, but she could still recognize his grey and white fur. Even if she couldn't recognize him or the corpse of the headless man, the chanting of the crowd was enough for her to understand who the man was.

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

"Here comes the King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"