"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.
The three from Dorne exchanged bewildered expression with each other at the strange exchange happening in front of them, before Oberyn step forward and, as the one most immune among them to odd things happening because of Jon, asked him directly, "Is this our ride out of here?" while glancing skeptically at the carriage that looked a bit too small to hold all four of them, not to mention their two prisoners.
"Yes," Jon simply nodded as he walked towards the back of the carriage, "But just for the two of us, and the two prisoners."
Ignoring the obvious question of how this carriage arrived here without any driver, Sarella asked the question that mattered more to her, "And what about the other two? How will they be getting back?" She sounded really nervous, as if almost dreading the answer.
"Well, of course, the same way we arrived here, on foot," he replied with a shrug as he opened the door to the carriage and began to drag out a large cube box made completely out of wood, with a big hole at the top, and before the other could ask about it, he pulled out another similar one out of the carriage, this one even bigger than the first.
"And what are these?" Nymeria asked curiously as she came closer and looked inside the opening on the top, only to see an intricate maze of metal locks that seemed designed to hold something the size of a human wrist.
"These... are our on-the-go prisons," Jon replied while proudly patting the boxes beside him, "They are compact boxes specially created to carry people inside them long term, with their being no chance of escaping."
The girls immediately began inspecting the strange contraption with curiosity in their eyes, and even Oberyn came over gingerly and slowly to see the so-called on-the-go prison.
"These look quite professionally made," Sarella mused out loud after a while, "Not a rush job, but as if someone regularly designs these boxes that make it impossible for the captive to exert even one per cent of their usual strength," she stated as she looked up at Jon.
"Of course, that was the whole point." Jon replied with a shrug, 'After all, one can never be careful when their enemy is a beast like the Mountain.'
"You must have been a trusted customer to get something like this assembled... especially considering that these look custom-made with our prisoners' exact sizes in mind. And only repeat buyers would get privileges like that, right?" Sarella continued with a raised eyebrow, "So tell me, Jon, how many like these have you brought before?" she asked with her eyes narrowed as if wondering if he had a devious hobby of capturing people this way and then torturing them.
"Yeah, right, I have a secret prision full of my enemies hidden away somewhere, and I regularly go there on full moon nights to enjoy watching them suffer," Jon replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, but then he saw the strange way that the Dornish family was looking at him and realised that they were actually judging him and immediately backtraced, "I am jesting of course. Why would I need something like that? I don't even have that many enemies. This was just something that I found out from a hidden expert in King's Landing."
"Hidden expert? Who?" Sarella had obviously been teasing him before, as she knew enough about Jon from those weeks spent on the ship that he was not the kind of person capable of doing something like this, that only the most heinous of people like the Mountain deserved, to innocents.
But now she was more curious about this so-called hidden expert hidden in King's Landing who was capturing his enemies in a box.
Jon looked quite reluctant to answer at first, but then he saw the inquisitive look also present in the eyes of the other two and decided that it was a harmless piece of knowledge anyway. "The one who commands little birds to do his bidding," Jon answered with a secretive smile on his face.
"Huh? Birds?" The girls let out confusedly, as having rarely gone to mainland Westeros, they were not very familiar with the deeper intricacies involved in the politics of King's Landing's upper echelons, but Oberyn's eyes immediately widened in realisation.
"Varys, huh?" Oberyn murmured with scorn in his eyes, "If it's that rat, then I guess it's understandable that he would use something like this regularly."
After all, anyone even a little familiar with the Essosi spymaster's usual tactics would know that there were few things that man, or rather the eunuch, would not do to achieve his goals.
"Varys? The Master of Whisperers?" Sarella asked, to which Oberyn nodded distractedly.
Oberyn had gotten quite familiar with all kinds of atrocities that could be directly or indirectly attributed to the man's machinations from when Westeros was still under the Targaryen reign and the Martells were still in on all the happenings in King's Landing.
In fact, the Dronishman knew that the only reason the eunuch survived the new king and would probably continue to survive any future ones was that he was too bloody damn useful and efficient at the job he did, with there being no suitable replacement available, and no King wanted to lose his eyes and ears, unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Yeah, Varys," Jon replied with a hint of disgust in his voice, "That man regularly transports humans as if they were goods between Essos and Westeros, using boxes similar to these,"
Jon had seen close hand the various torturous conditions the spider liked keeping innocent men, women and especially children in, their only fault being that they were considered unruly and disobedient by him or his partner.
He had, of course, already known that the man was not a normal human without a modicum of morality, considering he kept a legion of mutilated children under his command, but he had not expected how depraved the man actually was and how many cruelties the man casually inflicted on those below him on a daily basis.
It was only when he had been stuck with the dilemma of transporting their two prisoner and recalling the scene of Varys showing Tyrion his hated enemy stuffed inside a box, that he had imposed close surveillance on the man to find his box supplier, but the things he had witnessed along the way had almost enraged him to take his life then and there, consequences be damned.
But he controlled himself in the end as he knew that he could not be hasty, because men like him, the ones who serve the Royal family, especially the likes of Baratheon or rather the Lannister royal family, are sure to understand that death is always close by.
That a sword could come swinging at him from around the corner at any moment, and just a momentary irritation towards him was enough for people above him to want him gone.
Especially people like Cersei and Jeffery, who are reckless, fearless and stupid enough to never think about the consequences of killing anyone.
So Jon was absolutely sure that he must have a secret contingency plan in place in case of a sudden, unnatural death—a plan that would spell doom for all of his enemies or, at the very least, ruin every single one of their ambitions.
And considering the amount of knowledge this man possesses about all kinds of secrets of the various noble Lords and Ladies in Westeros, it wouldn't be hard for him to destabilise Westeros enough to cause an immediate war, and with the man's low moral compass, he was sure to spare no one.
In fact, the exact same thing could be said of his rival Baelish, as he, too, was cunning and vengeful enough to have similar ploys in place.
Looking deeper, this must have also been one of the reasons that those two were not trying their hardest to kill the other, as no one understood the danger the other represented better than themselves.
But Jon was certain that it would not take long for him to have enough manpower and control to be able to take care of those two leeches and still be able to make Westeros weather through whatever plans they had in place, largely unharmed.
For now, though those were distant worries, and at the moment, the most important thing for them was to leave the Westerlands.
"Now, enough about this box," Jon said with a shake of his head to clear his thoughts and come back to the present. "Let's talk about the two teams," he said as he turned to Oberyn with a pondering expression, "Considering you are injured, you will obviously be one of the two to leave on the carriage," he declared to which the Viper nodded but with a look of reluctance as the hated the felling of being an invalid, especially in a hostile land.
"And since I am the only one who properly knows our way back, I will be leading the team on foot, so..." Jon turned towards the girls with a raised eyebrow, "Choose among yourselves on who will go with whom."
"Oh, I'll go with you," Nymeria jumped up and immediately her hand with a bright smile.
"...Fine, then," Jon nodded slowly, a little taken aback by her sudden eagerness to travel on foot, but then he shook his head, deciding to attribute it to her innate weirdness and went to do the heavy lifting task of moving the prisoners into their new homes, where they'll be staying until they reach their destination of Dorne.
"Why?" The moment Jon and Oberyn were out of earshot, Sarella turned to her sister and whispered in a suspicious voice, her eyes narrowed in doubt, "Why were you so keen to go alone with Jon?"
"Well... aren't you much better at making poison than I am? So I thought it would be safer if you were the one travelling with the prisoners... after all, who knows if they suddenly woke up midway and needed another dose?" Nymeria said all that with a wide-eyed, innocent look on her face as if her intention were very pure, but her sister did not miss the shady gleam hidden in her eyes.
Sarella examined her sister silently for a few seconds before she abruptly grabbed her hand and yanked her into a nearby bush.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sarella asked in an irate whisper.
"What are you talking about?" Nymeria replied in a voice that sounded wronged, as if she was completely clueless, "I am doing nothing—"
"You think I don't know how your mind works, you slut?! You want to eat him up, do you not?!"
"Whaaat?! How could you think so little of your sister? I would never do something so—"
"Oh, stop pretending! You have been making googly eyes at him ever since he defeated you. Your intentions were as obvious as a dog in heat!"
"...Fine! I admit I like the boy and want to do some naughty things with him. But what's wrong with that?" Nymeria said with a casual shrug and an unabashed expression on her face, "It's not like I would have to force him. I am sure he would like it very, very much..." she said in a slow sensual voice, "After all, who could deny a beauty like me?" she asked haughtily, "And besides, do you not think that he deserves a reward for all the hard work he went through for us? And what prize could be better than me, huh?"
"Uh..." This single sentence left Sarella completely dumbfounded, as only her sister could be so shameless as to say something like that. But the girl could not deny that there was an undeniable truth in the fact that her sister was a beautiful woman with enough curves that only a eunuch would deny her.
"And think about it... Do you really want to travel through the forest once again... after all this ordeal, when you could rest your delicate body on the carriage and take a well-deserved rest?"
"Ugh, you got me there," Sarella replied with a small pout, as she could not deny that her body was screaming in desire for rest and sleep at the moment, but still, she could hide the hint of envy in her voice.
"Oi! Why is it taking you so long? What are you doing in there? Did you not find my bag yet?" Jon's voice suddenly called out confusedly, having simply assumed that the girls had gone to bring the fire starter in his luggage to burn the bodies.
"Coming!!"
...
A few minutes later, the four of them stood in front of the carriage, in which the two box-filled prisoners had already been placed, watching a great fire burn the bodies of their enemies inside the clearing as the wind blew away the smelly black into the sky, where it immediately disappeared in the darkness.
"That should be enough," Jon nodded as he looked at the bodies burned beyond recognition with a satisfied expression, and then turned back to his horse, "Peggy, be a little gentle on the road out, aye? You have someone injured in the carriage," he whispered, and the horse immediately nodded her head in understanding.
The journey from here to the nearest port would take less than half a day, even when taking it slow, and since Peggy was well rested at the moment, she should be able to travel all night and take them to their destination before sunrise.
"You two can rest easy and sleep in the carriage without concern," Jon said as he looked at Oberyn and Sarella. "Peggy, here is very smart and knows the way very well, so you will not even need to stay awake for the watch. And my men will be waiting for you a few kilometres away from the port, and will take you the rest of the way through to the ship completely unchecked, so don't worry."
Money worked wonders in this world, especially in a small, remote port like this, where the portmasters rarely earned more than a few coins, so they were more than willing to accept an extra under-the-table income to line their pockets, uncaring of what was being smuggled out of their area.
Even Jon had been left dumbfounded when he had been told the pitifully small amount it had taken for their goods to pass unharrassed.
"Anyone I know?" Oberyn asked curiously while climbing up, as he had spent quite a while with Jon's company, so he was wondering if there was anyone familiar among the ones picking them up.
"The Advisor," Jon answered with a smile.
"Oh...you called that man from Essos," Oberyn said with a reminiscent look in his eyes, as he had been quite impressed with the Volantisi captain's wits and capability during their time in the East.
"Yes. During my time here in Westeros, all my ships are under him." Jon replied with a shrug, "After all, my next stop is King's Landing, and I needed someone smart to handle my affairs there."
"For the so-called Tourney, huh?" Oberyn looked at him with a rueful look on his face, "I really wanted to join in the fun with you in the Capital, ah..." he said as he shook his head regretfully.
"Perhaps, next time," Jon smiled as he took a few steps back along with Nymeria to give the carriage some room, "See you soon then."
"Soon," Oberyn raised his hand farewell, and Sarella too waved her hand as the carriage slowly began to move and then disappeared into the night, back on the way it had arrived from, an hour ago.
"Let us leave too, then," Jon said as he picked up his luggage and turned towards the direction of the forest.
"Let's go then, I am ready," Nymeria said with a bizarre anticipation in her voice, as she immediately began to walk out of the clearing, but after just a few steps, she suddenly noticed something, turned around only to see Jon stopped after taking the first step, staring around him with a dazed look on his face, "Huh, what's wrong?"
"...Why do I feel like I am forgetting something important?" Jon mumbled with a frown on his face.
...
Meanwhile, unknown to the four, a deshelved old servant half-ran, half-stumbled through the forest as if he were hunted by wolves.
'I...have...to get...away. I have to...' his every breath was as painful as a sword through his chest, and his lungs felt as if they were being burned by fire, but he still did not dare to give up, because what he saw today was just too far beyond a commoner like him.
And if those people actually succeeded, which actually had a high chance of happening, considering they used poison and ambush, then he was very much done for...
'No, it's good if they die. If they all die, then no one will know about it. The world will be a better place without them,' he thought as his steps slowly slowed down, 'Perhaps I can go back to my family...' he thought for a hopeful few seconds, before he brutally slapped himself, 'No! That would be idiotic! Sooner or later, the news of their demise is sure to spread. And then... they are definitely going to learn that I was part of the group, so I can absolutely not stay here... I have to run away.
He still remembered being on the verge of death at the hands of his own master's greatsword, only to be saved by an arrow at the last moment. At that moment, with the survival instincts he had cultivated living as a smallfolk in Clegane's territory, his body had responded immediately, and he had run away without looking back, knowing that it was the only way for him to survive.
'...No, I can't run away alone. Knowing the Lord's cruel nature, my family is sure to suffer if they somehow learn about me, uncaring about their innocence. So I need to hurry and take them away from here as soon as possible,' he thought and immediately began moving with determination in his eyes.
'Riverlands! That should be the place,'
And thankfully, he was the one in charge of keeping their party's gold, and now that his Master was already probably dead, the money was his to spend as he wished. 'After all, it's not like the Mountain will mind,'