[Teen Wolf: Dragon Among Wolves] Chapter 257: Healing Bran
New
Yesterday
Winterfell
Jacob and his wives arrived at Winterfell and headed straight to Bran's room.
They found Bran lying on his bed, his face pale, his body covered in sizzling wounds that refused to heal. Dark veins spread from each cut through his skin, pulsing with a sickly, unnatural light. His breathing was shallow, labored—each breath a struggle.
Meera was at his side, holding his hand. Jon, Benjen, and Rickon stood nearby, their faces etched with worry.
Seeing what had been done to the young Stark, Jacob and his wives were overcome with worry—and barely contained rage.
Melissa rushed to Bran's side. "He's dying," she said, her voice steady but urgent. "The dark magic is spreading too fast. We need to act now."
Jacob stepped forward. "Sansa, let's help Melissa heal him."
Sansa nodded, stepping to the other side of the bed. Melissa and Sansa placed their hands on Bran's chest. Jacob extended his palm over Bran's forehead.
Three different healing abilities activated simultaneously.
Jacob's Healing Touch—a white light that could heal any wound and purify dark magic, curses, and poison. Sansa's Phoenix Flames—a warm, golden fire that healed and purified dark magic and curses. Melissa's Healing and Purification ability—a soft green glow that neutralized dark magic, curses, and harmful effects.
The three energies merged, enveloping Bran's body in a radiant cocoon of light. The dark veins on his skin began to recede, shrinking back toward the wounds. The wounds themselves closed, the flesh knitting together. Within seconds, Bran's breathing steadied, his face regaining its color.
Bran sat up, running his hands over his chest where the wounds had been—now completely healed. He looked up at Melissa, Jacob, and Sansa, his eyes bright with gratitude. "Thank you. All of you. You saved my life."
Sansa's smile was warm and gentle. "There's no need to thank us, Bran. We're just glad we could heal you."
Meera threw her arms around Bran, sobbing with relief.
Jacob stepped back, his expression still hard. He turned to Daenerys. "Dany, do you feel it?"
Daenerys nodded, her eyes glowing gold. "Yes. Demonic energy."
Jon frowned. "Demonic energy?"
"Yes," Jacob stated, his voice cold. "Whatever attacked Bran was either a demon or someone wielding demonic energy." He looked at Bran. "Tell us who did this to you."
Bran said, "I don't know him, but he definitely wasn't human. His skin was dark as charcoal, and his eyes were black—like dragonglass. If not for my heightened wolf senses, I wouldn't have even felt his presence. He moved without making a sound. He was too fast. I shifted and used all my strength, but I couldn't land a hit."
Sansa's brow furrowed as she looked at her husband. "Jay, do you know who it is?"
Jacob shook his head. "I don't. Since he's an assassin, he could be related to the Faceless Men."
Before they could deliberate further, the heavy wooden door burst open. A worried Arya rushed into the room, followed closely by Cogman and Stiles. She ran to Bran, taking his hand. "Are you okay?"
Bran smiled. "I'm fine, Arya."
Arya's eyes glowed yellow, and a low growl escaped her throat. "Who hurt you?"
"I don't know," Bran said. "It was some kind of demon."
Brienne entered the room and approached Jacob, her expression grim.
"Your Grace, I have bad news."
Jacob said, "Tell me."
Brienne said, "I just received a call from Karsi. One of our small towns near the Shivering Sea was slaughtered three days ago. Only twenty people survived out of four hundred. The survivors are sick and dying—they barely made it to tell Karsi what happened before collapsing."
Jacob's jaw tightened, his draconic aura beginning to leak out into the room. "What happened? Who attacked them?"
"They described them as grotesque monsters accompanied by people clad in red cloaks," Brienne said grimly. "Those people told the survivors that what was happening to them was because of you—because their new king had offended the Lord of Light."
Jacob's eyes glowed red, his aura leaking out faster, causing the wooden furniture to creak under the sudden atmospheric pressure. "That bastard R'hllor. If he is this eager to die, I will gladly fulfill his wish."
Benjen's phone rang. He answered, listened for a moment, and his face went pale. "Everyone heard that, right? That was Lyanna Mormont. A fishing village near Deepwood Motte was slaughtered yesterday. Only ten survivors. They're sick and dying—anyone who gets near them gets sick too. The people who went to check found the village rotten and infested with disease, and they got sick as well."
Jacob took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He looked at Cogman. "Why didn't we know about these attacks? What about your satellites?"
Cogman's voice was apologetic. "I'm sorry, sir. I was monitoring the Wall as you asked, and I was keeping track of the Night King's movements. I was also monitoring the Neck for southern threats and keeping an eye on Meereen. I didn't think anyone would sneak past and attack the villages."
Jacob's fists clenched until his knuckles popped. His voice was heavy with guilt. "Damn it. I promised those people I would protect them if they followed me. They were slaughtered while I was having fun, completely oblivious to what was happening."
Cogman bowed his head. "I'm truly sorry, sir."
Jacob shook his head. "It's not your fault, Cogman. It's my own damn arrogance. I provoked R'hllor, and I was stupid enough to think he wouldn't retaliate like this." His eyes glowed red again. "Those people chose me as their king. They are my people. And I hate losing what's mine."
Allison stepped forward, placing a grounding hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. Right now, we need to focus on ensuring nobody else dies."
Jacob closed his eyes, forcing his aura back under control. "Cogman, use your satellites to monitor the entire North. Keep some on Meereen, the Reach, and Dorne. Find the bastards who attacked my territory—and find the one who attacked Bran."
Cogman nodded. "I'm already searching, sir."
Jacob looked at Jon, Benjen, Bran, Rickon, and Brienne. "Come here. I'm giving you permission to enter and leave Serendell at will. I should have done this a long time ago. I just forgot." He shifted his eyes to Meera. "You too, Meera."
One by one, he gave them the mark. "Now you can escape to safety if you're ever in danger."
They thanked him, their expressions grateful.
Jacob turned to Daenerys, Sansa, and Melissa. "Let's go purify those villages from whatever foul sickness those demons and red priests left behind." He looked at Allison, Lydia, Cora, and Malia. "You four stay here in case the demons attack Winterfell again."
With that, Jacob teleported with Daenerys, Sansa, and Melissa to the settlement near the Shivering Sea. They found Karsi and immediately healed the twenty survivors and anyone who had come into contact with them, purifying the diseases and dark magic.
They teleported to Deepwood Motte next, where they healed the survivors from the fishing village—and anyone who had been in contact with them or had visited the village. Once that was done, they moved on to the fishing village itself.
The scene was horrific. Bodies lay everywhere—some burned, some covered in grotesque, oozing sores, others still clutching their children in death. The tragedy made them furious, especially Jacob. He blamed his own negligence for letting this happen.
He burned the bodies with his fire, and Daenerys, Sansa, and Melissa purified the village from disease and dark energy.
Then they teleported to the other village near the Shivering Sea. The tragedy there was even worse. After burning the corpses and purifying the village, they returned to Winterfell and appeared in the great hall.
Jacob's eyes were glowing red, his rage barely contained. "Cogman, did you find them?"
Cogman shook his head. "No, sir. They must be hiding in a cave or somewhere the satellites can't see."
Jacob pulled out Jack Sparrow's compass and focused on finding the demons. The needle spun uselessly. He snarled and shoved it back into his pocket dimension. "Useless piece of shit."
He began pacing the hall like a caged beast, his breathing heavy as Sansa quietly filled Allison and the others in on the horrific details of what they had witnessed in the ruined villages.
As Jacob paced, his dragon features started to show—a pair of sharp, black dragon horns emerged from his head, wings unfurling from his back, black scales spreading across his skin. His aura leaked, filling the room with oppressive pressure that left everyone in the hall except his wives shivering in terror.
Stiles, who usually ignored Jacob's aura due to long-term exposure, was visibly trembling. "He's really pissed. That R'hllor guy and his people have no idea what kind of nightmare they just brought down on themselves."
Malia's voice was quiet. "The only time I've seen him this angry was when I got shot and almost died."
Jacob looked at Cogman, his voice a deep, monstrous rumble. "Still nothing?"
Cogman's voice was apologetic. "Sorry, sir."
"Then I will go find the bastards myself," Jacob growled.
He teleported to the Wolfswood. He dropped to one knee, placing both his hands on the ground. He used his earth and wood elements to connect with the earth and every tree in the North. He closed his eyes, sending a wave of energetic radar through the earth, filtering out the native wildlife and humans, searching explicitly for the cold, hostile signature of demonic energy.
Ten minutes later, Jacob's eyes snapped open. He had found them. A high-density cluster of demonic signatures was huddled within a cave inside the northern mountain ranges near the Wall.
Jacob vanished.
---
Deep within the dark, jagged cave, the demon commander, Korvath, sat comfortably upon a crude throne constructed from rocks, his ash-gray, skeletal fingers casually petting the head of a massive, slavering Blight Hound resting at his side. The red priests stood nearby, their crimson robes glowing in the firelight. The horde of dark creatures lurked in the shadows.
One of the leading Red Priests stepped forward, bowing low before the rock throne. "My lord, should we attack the wildling camp now?"
Korvath let out a low, grinding chuckle, his ember eyes glowing in the dark. "No. There are tens of thousands of warriors gathered in that camp; a direct confrontation would draw the boy's attention too quickly. We will continue to strike the isolated, small towns first. Destroy his kingdom slowly. We will leave the wildlings for later."
The Priest nodded, a cruel smile touching his lips. "Understood, my lord. Then where should we—"
The words died instantly in the Priest's throat.
Korvath suddenly bolted upright from his throne, his skeletal frame shivering as a look of pure terror crossed his face. His ember eyes widened as he felt a terrifying presence outside the cave. Panicking, the demon commander aggressively waved his clawed hand through the void, desperately trying to tear open a spatial portal to escape.
Nothing happened. Space was completely locked down. He tried again and again, his claws ripping uselessly through the air.
"Why can't I open a portal?" he hissed, panic creeping into his voice.
The red priests also felt the terrifying aura that made their blood run cold. The horde of dark creatures suddenly broke out into wild, piercing whimpers. The presence outside the cave was so terrifying that the dark creatures completely lost their minds out of fear. Driven into a state of psychological delirium, the monsters violently turned on one another, tearing their own pack apart in a chaotic, bloody frenzy of self-destruction.
The Priests watched in total horror as their own army slaughtered itself.
The leading priest turned back to Korvath, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. "My lord... what is happening?!"
"Someone terrifying just arrived outside the cave," Korvath whispered. His ash-gray skin had somehow gone even paler, and his limbs trembled no matter how hard he tried to still them. "If it's an enemy... we're all doomed."
Forcing himself to move, Korvath walked outside. The twenty Red Priests followed fearfully behind him.
When they stepped out into the freezing night air, Korvath raised his head toward the sky and saw a figure fifty meters above, standing in the void. A figure with horns and dark wings, looking straight at him with red glowing eyes.
Korvath's ember eyes went wide in despair. "An ancient dragon? Why... why does a creature like him exist in a world this weak?"
Jacob, who had used his Space Element to completely lock down the space surrounding the entire mountain range to ensure no creature could escape, slowly floated down from the sky. He landed lightly on the snow, standing directly in front of the demon commander and the twenty terrified cultists.
Korvath forced politeness into his voice. "If I may ask, Your Excellency—who are you?"
Jacob's voice was a deep, monstrous rumble. "You slaughtered my people... and you have the audacity to ask who I am?"
Realizing who he was talking to, the final shred of hope evaporated from Korvath's mind. His skeletal face twisted in absolute horror. "You... you are King Jacob Alexander?"
Jacob didn't bother to answer. He casually flicked his wrist.
One of the red priests began screaming. His skin and muscles peeled away from his bones—slowly, agonizingly.
Korvath and the remaining nineteen priests watched in horror as their companion was systematically dismantled alive, his screams echoing off the mountain peaks until his bare bones collapsed into the crimson snow.
The priests completely lost their minds, collapsing to their knees and weeping for mercy. But Jacob didn't care about their pleas. His eyes were cold as he looked down at them. "Mercy is for those who deserve it—and you don't."
He used his telekinesis to lift the second priest into the air. The man's body twisted, his bones snapping one by one. His screams were cut short as Jacob crushed his skull.
The third priest was engulfed in flames—not normal fire, but dragon fire that burned hotter than anything in this world. The man didn't even have time to scream.
The fourth was impaled by roots that erupted from the ground, piercing through his body in a dozen places. He hung there, twitching, until Jacob snapped his fingers and the roots retracted, dropping the corpse.
The fifth and sixth were electrocuted, their bodies convulsing until their hearts gave out.
The seventh was crushed by a wave of telekinesis, his body flattened into a red paste.
The eighth was torn apart by wind blades, his limbs scattering across the crimson snow.
The ninth was melted by magma that erupted from the ground, his body dissolving into nothing.
The tenth, eleventh, and twelfth were drowned—Jacob pulled water from the air and forced it down their throats until their lungs burst.
The thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth were ripped apart by spatial distortions, their bodies folding in on themselves.
The sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth were crushed by a giant hand made of stone.
The nineteenth—the last remaining priest—dropped to his knees, sobbing for mercy.
Jacob gave him none. He didn't even speak. He just stared at the man—and two crimson beams erupted from his eyes, punching through the priest's skull and blowing it apart.
Korvath watched it all, his body trembling. When Jacob finally turned to him, the demon fell to his knees.
"Please," Korvath begged. "Spare me! I beg of you, Your Excellency! I will swear an absolute oath of fealty to you! I will betray R'hllor! I will serve you as your most loyal hound! Just grant me my life!"
Jacob's voice was cold. "You killed my people. You burned their homes. You left their children to die in agony. And now you want mercy?"
Korvath's eyes widened. He knew he was going to die. But he was a demon—he wouldn't go down without a fight. He lunged forward, unleashing a wave of dark magic, disease, and rot.
Jacob didn't even flinch. The dark energy washed over him and dissipated harmlessly. His immunity to dark magic and poison rendered Korvath's attacks useless.
Korvath tried again and again, each attack more desperate than the last. Nothing worked.
Jacob stood there, unmoving, watching Korvath with cold, pitiless eyes. For a moment, he considered reading Korvath's memories—but he felt it. R'hllor's energy, coiled inside Korvath's body like a serpent waiting to strike. He knew that the instant he tried to read those memories, R'hllor would kill Korvath on the spot, destroying the information before Jacob could take it.
As for forcing Korvath to speak—to spill everything he knew about R'hllor and his plans—Jacob knew better than to trust the word of a demon.
Finally, Jacob raised his hand. Korvath froze in place, his body locked by telekinesis.
Jacob said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Now I'm going to make you pay for what you did to my people."
He started with Korvath's fingers—snapping each one individually, then peeling the skin away. Then his hands. Then his arms. Then his legs. He worked his way up, breaking bones, tearing muscles, burning flesh. He kept Korvath alive through it all, healing him just enough to feel every moment of agony.
Korvath screamed. He begged. He cursed. He wept.
Jacob didn't stop until there was nothing left but a broken, barely conscious husk.
Then he drove his hand into Korvath's chest, ripped out his heart, and crushed it in his hands, watching the light fade from Korvath's eyes.
Then Jacob burned Korvath's body along with what remained of the priests to ash.
Jacob calmly walked into the cave. The horde of dark creatures was still violently tearing each other to pieces, completely driven mad by his aura. With a careless wave of his arm, Jacob unleashed a massive torrent of fire, incinerating the entire horde within seconds, rendering the cavern completely clean.
When it was over, he teleported back to Winterfell.
---
Winterfell: The Great Hall
Jacob appeared in the great hall, still in his hybrid dragon form. His family was there—everyone except Derek, Talia, Natalie, Shireen, and Noah.
He told them what had happened. Then he began giving orders.
"Dany. Malia," he said, his voice still carrying a monstrous edge. "Go to Meereen. R'hllor may send his demons there. Take Stiles, Erica, Scott, and Missandei with you."
Daenerys nodded, her expression serious.
"Allison, Chris, Victoria—head to Highgarden. The demons may attack the Reach."
Allison nodded. "Okay."
"Lydia, Cora—go to Dorne."
Lydia and Cora exchanged a glance, then nodded.
"Cogman—monitor all our territory with the satellites. If the red priests or any demons show up, I need to know immediately."
Cogman bowed. "Already done, sir. I'm monitoring not just our territory, but the entirety of Westeros and Essos."
Jacob looked at Melissa and Sansa. "You two stay with me in Winterfell. If I have to leave, you'll protect Winterfell."
They nodded.
Jacob then looked at Arya. "Arya. It's time to handle the Twins. Go to the Riverlands and eliminate the Freys. But listen to me carefully: you are strictly to execute Walder Frey, his sons, and whoever was directly involved in the murder of your mother and brother. Do not harm a single normal civilian living within the Twins. Take Kitty with you."
Arya's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "With pleasure."
He summoned Kai from Serendell and ordered, "Kai, accompany Arya and Kitty to the Twins to exterminate the Freys."
Kai said, "As you command, Your Grace."
Cogman raised a hand. "Can I go with them, sir?"
Jacob nodded. "You can go, Cogman, but I need absolute certainty that the satellite monitoring will not falter."
"You need not worry, sir," Cogman replied. "I'm linked with the satellites. If a single priest appears near our territory, I will let you know. In fact, I can give you the location of a lot of red priests and red priestesses right now, but they are all in Essos. Well, there are a few of them in King's Landing."
Jacob said, "King's Landing?"
Cogman said, "Yes, sir. There are more than twenty of them."
Jacob said, "Keep monitoring them. It seems that Cersei allied herself with R'hllor."
Arya said, "Then should one of us go there and kill them and that bitch as well?"
Jacob said, "No. For now, let's make sure that the North, the Reach, Dorne, and Meereen are safe first. Then we will deal with Cersei."
"Alright." Jacob looked around the room. "Everyone be careful out there. Call me if you meet R'hllor or a dangerous demon you can't handle."
After Daenerys and the others left, Jacob let out a long, heavy breath, his mood still incredibly sour. He left the empty hall, walking up the stone steps until he stood alone on the high walls of Winterfell, looking out over the vast, snow-covered landscape of the North.
A few quiet moments passed before soft footsteps echoed on the stone walkway. Sansa and Melissa walked up beside him. Through their bond, both of them could clearly feel his guilt and sadness.
Melissa stepped closer, gently resting her hand against his arm. "Jay. Don't blame yourself for what happened to the two villages. It's not your fault."
Jacob's voice was bitter. "No, it is my fault. I promised those people I would protect them. And I failed."
Melissa shook her head. "You can't protect everyone from everything."
Jacob's jaw tightened. "I should have known R'hllor would retaliate. I provoked him, and innocent people paid the price."
Melissa sighed. "It's not just your fault. It's a mistake we all made collectively. We were dealing with a demon, but we didn't take him seriously. We trusted that he wouldn't fight dirty."
Sansa stepped up to his other side. "Melissa is right, Jay. Underestimating R'hllor's malice was a mistake all of us made together. But wallowing in guilt won't bring back the dead. We need to learn from this failure and ensure we never allow a tragedy like this to happen within our borders ever again."
Jacob let out a long, slow sigh, his dragon features slowly starting to recede back beneath his skin as the red faded from his eyes, but the heavy weight of guilt still lingered deep within his chest. He said nothing more, turning his gaze back out toward the cold horizon.
Sansa and Melissa exchanged a look. Moving in unison, both of them stepped into his personal space, wrapping their arms around his waist and burying their faces against his chest. They didn't offer any more words, understanding that reassurance wasn't what he needed right now.
The three of them simply stood together on the high stone walls in silence, lost in their own thoughts as the cold northern wind blew around them.
Chapter 258: The Freys Fall
New
6 hours ago
Jacob spent the night in Winterfell, waiting for the assassin who had attacked Bran to strike again. But the demon Kaelen didn't show up.
The next day, Jacob stayed in Winterfell with Sansa and Melissa. He didn't sleep. He didn't eat much. He just walked the walls, scanned the horizon, and waited.
---
Meereen — The Council Chamber
Meanwhile, Daenerys, Malia, Stiles, Scott, Erica, and Missandei were in Meereen, gathered in the council chamber with Tyrion Lannister, Varys, and Grey Worm.
Daenerys sat at the head of the table. "Has anything unusual happened in the city over the last few days?"
Tyrion shook his head. "No, Your Grace. The street patrols report nothing unusual. The city is quiet—too quiet, if you ask me."
Daenerys nodded, then asked, "Are the fleets from Yunkai, Astapor, and Volantis closing in?"
Varys, sitting next to Tyrion with his hands tucked into his sleeves, said, "My little birds reported that the Masters' armada is on the move. If the winds hold, they should arrive in the bay within six days."
Daenerys's expression didn't change. "Get shelters ready for the citizens. I want them hidden and safe before the fleet arrives. And get the army ready to face them."
Tyrion frowned slightly, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "If I may, Your Grace... aren't you going to participate in the battle?"
Daenerys said, "There might be demons with them, Tyrion. So Malia and I will have to fight them. We won't have time to fight the Masters and their armada." She paused. "But you need not worry. I will bring Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion—and perhaps even Kisarax—to join the battle. And Stiles, Scott, and Erica will help too."
Missandei looked at Daenerys hopefully. "Can I participate in the fight as well?"
Daenerys looked at her, her expression softening a little. "Then you will stay at Scott's side."
Missandei said, "I will."
Daenerys turned her gaze to Scott. "Make sure to keep her safe."
Scott nodded. "I will."
Varys tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "If I may ask, Your Grace... who exactly is this Kisarax?"
Daenerys offered a cold, knowing smile. "You will see her soon."
Tyrion leaned forward. "And what of your husband, Your Grace? Won't King Jacob and the rest of your family be coming to help?"
Daenerys said, "No. They're busy. R'hllor has declared war on us. He sent his demons to slaughter two villages in the North. Right now, my husband and my sisters are scattered across Westeros, protecting our territories from further attacks."
Tyrion nodded. "I see." Then he steered the conversation toward the rules of engagement. "Regarding the Masters' armada... are we still going to execute only the leadership and allow the common conscripts and soldiers to surrender?"
Daenerys's eyes suddenly glowed golden. "No," she growled. "We will burn them all. Every single one of them."
Tyrion's face paled. "But, Your Grace, the common soldiers are merely slaves forced to—"
"There are no buts, Tyrion!" Daenerys cut him off, slamming her hand onto the stone table. "You did not see the tragedy that occurred in those two Northern villages yesterday. It was horrific. And since the Masters have chosen to ally their fleets with the demonic forces of R'hllor, they have made themselves our enemies. The entire fleet is corrupted. Honestly, burning only them and their armada—instead of completely reducing their home cities to ash after this battle—is considered an act of mercy!"
Tyrion swallowed hard, asking cautiously, "And... what does King Jacob say about the complete destruction of the Masters and their entire fleet?"
"If Jay was present in this room right now, he wouldn't even be waiting for them to arrive here," Daenerys said with a snort. "He would have already vaporized their entire armada in the middle of the sea." She shifted her golden eyes toward Malia beside her. "Malia, can you still feel his rage through our bond?"
Malia slowly shook her head. "No. I don't feel rage from him anymore, but what I'm feeling through the bond right now is much worse than rage or anger. Right now, the feeling I get from him is pure destruction. It's like..." She paused, searching for the words. "I don't even know how to properly describe it. It's like he suddenly doesn't care about anything anymore. All he wants is absolute slaughter and destruction. To be honest, it's scaring me a little."
Stiles, who was leaning against the stone pillar, violently shuddered. "If you—his wife—are scared of him, then I am not going anywhere near him anytime soon. Not until he completely calms down."
Malia shook her head. "That's not what I mean, Stiles. I know with absolute certainty that he would never hurt me or any of his other wives. I am not afraid of him, and I will never be afraid of him. But I am terrified of what he will do. I am afraid he will completely lose his restraint, go on an rampage across the world, and start destroying every single city where a Red Temple exists—slaughtering everyone in those cities without caring whether they are innocent civilians or fanatical priests."
Stiles said, "He... he would never do anything like that, right? I know him. He can be cruel sometimes, but he would never hurt innocent people. That I'm sure of."
"I know he won't," Malia said. "But the feeling I get from him right now is very scary. He is... how do I say it... indifferent. Yeah... indifferent. That's the word. And I'm not afraid he'll kill innocent people—I don't care that much about people I don't know. What scares me is what it will do to his mind after he snaps out of it and realizes what he did."
Seeing Scott, Stiles, and Tyrion getting visibly anxious, Daenerys said, "Don't worry. He will not go around slaughtering entire cities. If he wanted to do that, he would have done it yesterday. Don't you guys remember when he told Arya to go take her revenge, but he warned her not to hurt innocent civilians? He is still the same person we know and love. It's just... what happened to those villages hit him hard, and he blames himself for it."
---
The Reach — Highgarden
Allison, Chris, and Victoria arrived at Highgarden, where they were greeted by Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter Margaery Tyrell. The old woman welcomed them with a feast, but neither Allison nor her parents were in the mood for food or talking.
They spent their time there preparing for a possible attack, but nothing happened in Highgarden.
---
Dorne — Sunspear
Lydia and Cora arrived in Dorne, where they were greeted by Ellaria Sand and her daughters. They patrolled the city and searched for any sign of demonic activity, but they found none.
---
The North
Jacob flew above the North, alone. He continuously scanned the vast wilderness and small towns, searching for any trace of demonic energy, but he found nothing.
Eventually, he landed on the Wall, his boots crunching in the snow. He walked to the frozen edge and looked beyond the Wall, toward the endless white expanse of the Lands of Always Winter.
'After dealing with R'hllor,' Jacob thought, 'I should deal with the Night King as well. No more waiting.'
Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He took it out and answered. "Speak."
Cogman's voice came through. "Sir, the Lannister army has officially mobilized and is currently heading directly for the Reach. Twenty thousand of them. Among them are thirty red priests and thirty people wearing blue robes—I think they're magic users too."
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "What else?"
"There is a heavily guarded carriage traveling within the center of the army," Cogman reported. "I saw a blue-skinned woman entering it just before deployment."
"When did they leave King's Landing?" Jacob asked.
"Just now, sir," Cogman replied.
"When will they arrive in the Reach?"
Cogman said, "Given the heavy mud and their current marching speed, they will arrive at Tumbleton—a major market town within the Reach—in approximately ten days, sir."
Jacob asked, "Are there any small towns sitting directly within their line of march?"
"Negative, sir," Cogman confirmed smoothly. "There are a few small farming settlements along their way, but they're not from our territory. They do not belong to the Reach."
Jacob said, "Alright. Keep an eye on them and let me know if anything abnormal happens. We will march our army to face them at Tumbleton in ten days."
"I'll keep my eye on them, sir," Cogman assured him.
"Have you and Arya reached the Twins yet?" Jacob shifted the topic.
"Yes, sir," Cogman reported. "We'll strike in an hour or two, once the Frey leadership has fully assembled. We were trying to figure out how to gather them all in one place—but Cersei Lannister's royal decree did the work for us. She's ordered them to mobilize their army and march on Winterfell, probably to distract us while she moves on the Reach. Either way, Walder Frey, his sons, and their commanders are meeting today to discuss it."
Jacob said, "Alright. Call me when you're done so I can send Victoria or Chris with some men to take over the Twins."
Cogman said, "Will do, sir."
Jacob hung up the phone, slipping it back into his pocket. Just as he turned back toward the horizon, a system window materialized before his eyes:
[Event Sign-In Available: Host can sign in after witnessing Cersei Lannister destroy the Sept of Baelor with wildfire.
Remaining Time: 4 Hours, 00 Minutes.]
Jacob stared at the glowing prompt for a brief second before dismissing the system window. He decided to go to King's Landing when only a few minutes remained. He teleported back into the quiet Great Hall of Winterfell, sat down by the hearth, and waited.
A few minutes later, Sansa walked in. She crossed the hall to him, kissed him softly, and settled into his lap.
Jacob wrapped his arms around her. "Do you want to join Arya to help her deal with the Freys?"
Sansa shook her head. "No. Let Arya deal with them. I'm sure she'll make them suffer." She leaned into him. "I'd rather stay here with you."
Jacob asked, "Where's Melissa?"
"She and Shireen are examining people and healing the sick. Bran, Rickon, and Meera are helping them organize the crowd."
"I see." Jacob pulled her closer, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence.
---
The Twins — The Riverlands
Inside the high, stone-walled grand hall of the Twins, the atmosphere was chaotic and loud. Every male member of House Frey, alongside their most loyal captains and guards, had gathered at the long wooden tables. A massive feast had been hastily thrown together—not to celebrate, but to debate the urgent royal decree that had arrived from King's Landing. Cersei Lannister had ordered them to march on Winterfell.
Old Walder Frey sat heavily at the high table, a cup of wine in his hand. He was no fool; he knew Cersei was ordering him to send his men to their deaths. He was deep in thought as his sons argued, and most of them decided to stay safely in the Twins. They thought they were safe behind their thick stone walls. They thought their fortress was impenetrable.
They had no idea that the doors to the grand hall had already been locked securely from the inside—and that death was already inside.
Standing over the main exit doors was Kai. The samurai stood perfectly still, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes completely emotionless. He didn't stand guard outside to keep people away—he stood directly inside the threshold to ensure absolutely no one would leave this room alive.
Suddenly, the loud chatter slowly died down as the Freys noticed two figures walking calmly down the center aisle toward the high table.
Leading the walk was Arya, her face a mask of cold, terrifying calm. Walking at her side was Cogman, with a creepy smile on his face and Kitty sitting on his shoulder.
Walder Frey squinted his old eyes and slammed his cup onto the table. "Who are you?! Guards! Capture them!"
Ten armed Frey guards instantly lunged forward from the perimeter, swords drawn.
Kitty said, "Leave them to me."
She jumped from Cogman's shoulder, drew her two vibranium twin daggers, and attacked. She was a blur of motion, moving so fast the ten guards didn't even see her shadow.
Within three seconds, all ten guards had their throats slit and collapsed to the stone floor, trying to stop the bleeding with both hands before they lay dead in a pool of blood.
Kitty casually wiped her daggers on one of the dead guard's cloak, slid them back into their sheaths, and leaped lightly back onto Cogman's shoulder.
The entire hall erupted into pure panic upon seeing a cat not only talk but kill ten men in the blink of an eye. Dozens of Freys scrambled backward, knocking over heavy wooden tables and drawing their swords and daggers as they tried to rush toward the exit doors.
But the moment they neared the threshold, they saw Kai looking at them with cold eyes. A Frey captain aggressively slashed his broadsword directly against the samurai's neck. The heavy steel collided with his skin with a sharp CLANG—the blade violently shattering into pieces against Kai's flesh without leaving even a faint scratch.
Kai's expression didn't change. He simply reached out, grabbed the captain by the throat, and snapped his neck before throwing the carcass into the crowd. Then he drew his Tengu sword and slashed four of the Freys in half.
Seeing that, the Freys were horrified. They took multiple steps back, distancing themselves from Kai.
Arya stopped at the foot of the high table. She looked up at Walder Frey—at the man who had orchestrated the Red Wedding. The man who had killed her mother and brother. The man who had sewn Grey Wind's head onto Robb's body and paraded it through the hall.
"My name is Arya Stark," she said. "And I'm here to collect a debt."
Then she moved.
The first Frey to die was Lothar Frey—the man who had driven a blade into Talisa's pregnant belly at the Red Wedding. Arya appeared in front of him and struck before he could even blink, burying her knife in his stomach a dozen times in the span of a heartbeat. Then she opened him up like a fish, stepping back with a cold smirk as he collapsed to his knees, screaming and desperately trying to shove his intestines back into his body.
Arya didn't finish him. She left him to die slowly, drowning in his own blood and pain, and moved on to her second target.
Black Walder—the man who had slit Catelyn Stark's throat at the Red Wedding. He saw her coming and lunged, sword raised. Arya caught the blade with her bare hand and crushed it like glass. Then she stabbed him in the hands. The arms. The legs. The stomach. Methodical. Deliberate. Then she began taking pieces of him—a leg, then an arm—while he shrieked like a pig. When she was done, she drove her blade into his eyes. And finally, she slit his throat.
Desperate and terrified, Frey men drew their swords and charged at her. But they didn't get far.
Kitty was on them before they could take three steps. She moved like a shadow, her daggers finding throats, eyes, and hearts—quick, clean, and utterly merciless.
Cogman followed, strolling through the chaos as if he had all the time in the world. His hands shifted into gleaming blades, and he cut through the Frey soldiers with surgical precision. But he didn't kill them quickly. Every strike was deliberate. Every wound was placed to cause maximum pain. He wanted them to suffer—and he made sure they did.
The Frey men screamed. They begged. They tried to run.
But Cogman and Kitty didn't show them any mercy. And when the desperate men turned to the door to run, Kai cut them to pieces. There was nowhere to run.
Walder Frey watched in horror as the hall erupted in chaos. He watched as Cogman, Kitty, and Kai slaughtered his men. Then he turned to Arya and saw how she killed his sons with absolute cruelty.
When she was done with his sons, Arya turned to Walder Frey—the architect of the Red Wedding, the man who had smiled while her mother and brother were butchered. Her glowing eyes locked onto his, and a slow, unsettling smirk curled her lips as she began walking toward him.
Walder Frey saw her coming. His face went white. His whole body began to trembled. A dark stain spread across his trousers, pooling beneath him. He tried to rise, but his legs gave out. He tumbled from his chair and hit the floor hard, then began scrambling backward, dragging himself across the stone, desperate to put distance between himself and the girl with the glowing eyes.
"Please... wait! We can make a deal! I'll give you gold! Land! Anything!" Walder begged, his voice cracking with terror as Arya suddenly appeared in front of him.
Arya stared down at him, her voice cold. "The North remembers, Walder Frey. I will make you pay for betraying my family. But your mistake wasn't the betrayal—no. Your biggest mistake was not killing all of us. Leave a wolf alive, and the sheep will never be safe."
A deep, guttural growl rumbled from her throat—deep, animalistic, terrifying. Walder Frey nearly died from fear on the spot. "Now you're going to die. But not quickly. Not mercifully. I'm going to make you suffer—for every Stark you butchered. For my mother. For my brother. For all of them."
She cut his ear first. Then the other. Then his nose. She punched his jaw—bone cracked, and what remained of his teeth scattered across the stone. She stabbed him in the thighs, both of them, over and over. Then the arms. Then the chest—shallow cuts, just deep enough to hurt, never deep enough to kill. He screamed the whole time. She cut off his fingers. One. By one. Then his hands. She would have kept going, but the old man was fading fast—his body finally giving out.
So Arya simply slit his throat and watched the life drain from his eyes. Then she stood, exhaling a long, shuddering breath. The mask of vengeance slipped from her face, and for a moment, she was just a girl again—tired, hollow, and finished. She looked around the hall. Every Frey was dead. The floors ran red. The bodies lay shattered and broken, scattered like discarded toys.
Arya looked at Cogman. "It's over. Call Jacob."
---
Back in the North
Jacob was sitting silently by the hearth with Sansa in his arms when his phone buzzed. He answered. "Is it done?"
Cogman's voice was calm and satisfied. "It's done, sir. The Freys are dead—Walder Frey, his sons, his grandsons, and all their loyal men. Arya finished Walder Frey herself."
"Good. Stay there until I send someone to take over," Jacob said flatly.
"Yes, sir."
Jacob hung up and looked at Sansa in his arms. "The Freys are dead."
Sansa closed her eyes, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "That's good."
Jacob said, "Alright, love. Go call Benjen and Brienne for me."
Sansa stood up from his lap and kissed him, then went to call Benjen and Brienne.
Jacob vanished, teleporting himself to Highgarden in the Reach.
---
Highgarden
Jacob appeared in Highgarden, in the garden where Allison, Chris, Victoria, and Olenna Tyrell were sitting.
Olenna rose as he approached, preparing to greet him with one of her sharp, witty remarks. But she saw that his expression was hollow, his eyes cold and indifferent, and she realized that he was in no mood to talk or smile. The old matriarch wisely shut her mouth and just nodded at him.
Jacob nodded at her. He stepped forward, pulling Allison tightly into his arms and pressing a deep, lingering kiss to her lips. He pulled away and looked at her parents. "The Freys are dead. So which one of you two is going to lead a few men to take over the Twins?"
Chris said, "I'll go."
Victoria shook her head. "No, I'll go. It will take a few days to fully take over, and you need to get the army ready to face the Lannisters."
Chris considered this, then nodded. "Fine."
Jacob released Allison from his arms and kissed her forehead. "See you later, love."
Allison said, "See you later."
Jacob grabbed Victoria's arm and teleported the two of them instantly back into the great hall of Winterfell. He looked across the room at Benjen and Brienne. "Benjen, Brienne—gather three thousand men in the courtyard. You are heading south to secure the Twins under Victoria's command."
Benjen and Brienne didn't waste a single second. They nodded and left. Within forty minutes, three thousand heavily armored Northern soldiers stood in perfect formation within the snow-covered courtyard of the castle.
Jacob opened a massive space portal directly from Winterfell to the Twins.
"March," Jacob commanded.
Victoria, Benjen, and Brienne led the three thousand men through the portal. Just as the last men entered the portal, Cogman, Kitty, and Kai came back to Winterfell through it. Then Jacob closed it.
He looked at Cogman. "Any problems?"
Cogman shook his head. "None, sir. Arya is staying with Victoria to help secure the castle."
Jacob nodded. "Good. Now—" He paused, checking the system window. Only ten minutes remained until Cersei destroyed the Sept of Baelor.
He looked at Sansa, Cogman, Kai, and Kitty. "I need to go somewhere. Watch over Winterfell while I'm gone."
Cogman and Kai nodded.
Sansa asked worriedly, "Where are you going?"
Jacob said, "Don't worry. I'm just going to fly around. I'll be back soon."
Sansa said, "Okay. Be careful. And if you want to fight R'hllor, tell us first."
Jacob nodded and teleported.
---
King's Landing — High Above the City
Jacob appeared high above King's Landing, standing in the void. The city sprawled beneath him—a maze of streets and buildings, the Red Keep rising in the distance, the Great Sept of Baelor gleaming in the afternoon sun.
He crossed his arms and waited.