"Now, how are we supposed to deal with all this?" Nymeria asked as she massaged her aching back with a troubled look on her face as pointed towards the mess of dead bodies thrown half-hazardly into a pile, as well as the two prisoners who were snoozing peacefully without a care in the world, as if they were having pleasant dreams.
The end of the battle had not spared them from labour, especially Jon and Nymeria, who were the ones who had to go to all their fallen foes one by one, and run their weapons through their unconscious bodies to make sure that they did not wake up again.
Because quite a few of them had succumbed to the poison instead of being killed by arrows or spears, and since the girls had made sure beforehand that the poison wasn't deadly enough, they had to now go the extra mile just to be sure before they could drag the bodies to the centre.
After all, none of them wanted to experience the stupid feeling of having all their hard work and plan go to waste just because one of their fallen foe managed to wake up... one Amory Lorch revival was enough of a lesson for them.
And while the two of them did that, Sarella had not been spared either, as the young girl was the one who had been given the tiring task of moving the two prisoners away from their comrades and then administering a healthy dose of a newly made poison into their mouths so that they would not wake up until they needed them to be awake.
Unfortunately for them, one of their would-be helper had been retired prematurely, or else their workload might have been a little bit lighter.
That retired warrior was feeling more than a little surreal as he lay against a tree, drinking willow bark tea mixed with some drops of milk of poppy, watching his friend and daughters toiling on his enemies' dead bodies.
Oberyn was feeling very restless at the moment after that fight, and wanted nothing more than to help the other three.
But Jon, using the rudimentary first-aid knowledge he had picked up from listening to Sam during their long days of camping, had diagnosed him with the condition of having two fractured ribs.
Fortunately, though, even with his extensive activities immediately after sustaining this injury, there had been no puncturing of lungs, so he had avoided the worst-case scenario, for which Oberyn was thankful.
But he still needed proper medical assistance, which unfortunately was not available in the middle of nowhere, and neither could they just head towards the nearest healer and ask to be treated without the question of, 'Why is this Dornishman asking me to treat him? And what mishief has injured him?'
So in the end, Jon wrapped his chest with some thin linen to act as support for his ribs, but kept the wrapping loose enough not to constrict his breathing (as he had read somewhere that these kinds of things used to cause Pneumonia in the 18th century) and then relegated the Dornish prince to stationary rest.
And now he sat there on a rock, idly watching his daughters and his Northern friend, tiredly go about doing the dirty work, even after the tiring battle they had been through.
"And more importantly, you still haven't told us how we are going to move our captives out of Westerlands?" Sarella asked as she walked towards the two of them, while wiping her carefully washed hands with a soft cloth that she then immediately discarded. It was a cleaning habit that she had been instilled from a young age to do every time after she had dealt with poison.
"The bodies we can simply burn," Jon replied with a shrug, his eyes half-lidded as if he was forcing himself to not sleep then and there immediately,, "And as for carrying our captives..." he said as a momentary frown appeared on his face before his expression cleared up with a smile, "Well, it will only be a few more minutes before she reaches here... so you will get all your answers then,"
"Who? Who is coming here and—" Nymeria started to ask confusedly, but her sister interrupted her.
"Ugh! Don't even bother asking him," Sarella said with an annoyed groan, "You should know by now how much he loves his mysteries, Nym. Just look at the smug look on his face, you can tell there is no way he is going to give us a straight answer."
"T-That is definitely not true." Jon said with a disgruntled expression, as if repulsed by the thought that he could ever look smug like a third rate villian, "I always try to be truthful as I can be with my words. After all, I am the son of Lord Eddard Stark and—" he said only to hear an unexpected snort and turned to see Oberyn looking at him with an amused expression, which confused him as he wondered why that simple fact would entertain him so much, "So I can't let down my honourable father by lying," he continued subconsiously while turning back to the girl.
"Oho, is that so?" Sarella asked as a small mischievous smile appeared on her face, as if she had been waiting for this, "Then answer me this, Jon 'honourable' Snow: "What was that you did towards the end of the battle? How exactly did you suddenly get so good? Were you holding back from the start?"
"Oh, that, um..." Jon was a bit flustered at that, as his eyes shifted evasively as if he was trying to remember the answer. "Well, er, you could say that it was a sudden enlightenment kind of thing. That's right," his eyes firmed up a bit as his voice went into the unhurried story mode that he used with Arya and Bran when they could not sleep, "At that exact moment of life and death... I was somehow able to remember all the hours that I had spent training in the yard, all my knowledge of fighting that I had been learning since I could walk, culminating in my mind at that moment, making me a much better fighter than before," Jon finished with a satisfied nod while giving her the most overused trope of the Novel MCs in his previous, "It was only an instant but it was very... enlightening," Jon nodded with a far away sage-like look on his eyes.
"Huuuh? W-What does that even—"
"Enough questions about that for now," Jon said, turning away from Sarella while waving his hand, "We really should start gathering the firewood and burn these bodies before they start to smell. So let's not waste any more time." And then, without waiting for their reply, he immediately began moving towards his luggage to take out his handy saw.
"Hmph! I told you he won't tell us the truth," Sarella murmured to Nymeria with a snort as the sisters followed after Jon into the forest, to help him carry the firewood, "Honourable, my ass."
Jon easily ignored the mutterings behind him and focused completely on the task in front of him, wanting to be done with it as soon as possible and move away from this place of death.
After all, who wants to camp in a place surrounded by their dead enemies?
So with him being so enthusiastic, and with there being plenty of dead wood in their surroundings, there was soon a small pile of dry wood at his feet, which left the girls with the simple job of transporting it back to the clearing.
And so with their collective efforts, it only took them ten minutes to have a decent amount of wood covering the heap of bodies. Just about enough for them to be burned beyond any recognition, which should give the four a few days' leeway before the nearby lords learn about this ambush and start placing blockades and checks to search for them.
And in the exact moment they finished, a loud neigh echoed through the clearing, scaring the three Dornish so much that it almost gave all of them a collective heart attack, but before they could panic and reach for their weapons, Jon suddenly turned and exclaimed, "She is here!" with a cheerful smile as he ran towards the voice.
This drained most of the tension in the other three's bodies as they realised it could not be an enemy or a stranger if Jon was so happy about the new arrival.
A few seconds later, an extremely majestic horse burst into the clearing while pulling a big but compact carriage behind her, and without any hesitation, the horse headed straight for Jon while neighing loudly, as the three looked dumbfoundedly at the carriage that was being driven with no driver behind the horse to guide the carriage.
"Peggy!!" Jon called out delightfully as he met his friend halfway and began to run his hand through her lush white hair, and the horse responded equally enthusiastically as she vigorously but gently rubbed her head against Jon's chest, "Did you miss me, girl?"
"EEEH!" The horse replied with a delighted neigh and joyful nod of her head.
It had been more than a few months since Jon had last seen his friend, so safe to say this reunion was more than a bit special.
There were no forseebattle in Essos and with him constantly travelling through free cities mostly on his ships, Jon had not wanted Peggy to suffer from constant sea travel, so he had sent her to Winnterfell where his lovely sisters could care for her properly, but now that he was back in Westeros, and most of his family was out enjoying their vacation, he had called her back to him as there was no one better to take someone discreetly out of Westerlands.
"Um, is this the 'her' you were talking about?" Sarella asked hesitatingly as she and her sister slowly approached Jon, both of them wearing weird expressions on their face, with their eyes constantly searching the carriage as if expecting a hidden driver to jump out at any moment, but the carriage remained empty and with the warm scene in front of her, Sarella was finally forced to believe that the one Jon was talking about earlier was in fact... just a horse.
"Of course she is," Jon replied with a bright smile, as though all of his exhaustion had vanished simply by reconnecting with his close friend, "Martells! Meet Pegasus, the best and smartest horse in the world," he praised and the horse in question immediately raised her head in pride as if she could understand him, but when Jon did not continue she nudged him with a leading look in her eyes, "Oh, and of course, not to forget the fastest in the world," he added with wry smile as the horse finally looked satisfied.
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