The forest road was dark, winding its way back to Deepden.
Ser Harrold sat on his horse, grinning like a fool.
Damn that upstart. He dared to threaten me? He dared to shame me?
Well, look who's laughing now.
Behind him, twenty house guards led pack horses loaded with heavy sacks.
"Haha! We got it all back!" Harrold boasted to his lieutenant. "Father will be pleased."
"That Shit Lord fought the wildlings to the death, and we reap the rewards!"
"He burned our lands? Fine. This is his repayment."
Suddenly, hoofbeats thundered ahead.
Lord Lover, face pale as ash, galloped toward them with two knights.
"Father!" Harrold waved happily.
Lord Lover didn't slow down. He rode straight up to his son and punched him off his horse.
Thud.
Harrold hit the dirt, blood streaming from his nose. "Father... why?"
"You idiot! You utter fool!!" Lord Lover screamed, pointing at the loot. "How dare you?! How dare you do this?!"
He had arrived too late. He had only learned of his son's secret excursion an hour ago.
"Why are you so stupid?!" Lord Lover shook with rage.
Harrold wiped his face, confused. "Father, relax! I only took twenty men! No one will know! There's no proof!"
"Arghhhh!!" Lord Lover wanted to strangle him.
"You took only twenty men?! That makes it worse, you moron!!"
"If you were going to rob him, you should have taken the whole garrison!!"
"Taking twenty men just gives him a chance to kill you and bury the evidence!!"
"And you didn't run?! You're dragging these heavy sacks slowly through the woods?!"
"You are waiting for him to catch you!!"
Lord Lover kicked his son in the ribs. "Get up! Leave the gold! We have to go! Now!!"
He grabbed Harrold and shoved him toward a horse.
But then, Lord Lover froze.
The hair on his arms stood up.
A voice, light and devoid of emotion, drifted from the shadows.
"Lord... Lover... where... are... you... going?"
Lord Lover turned slowly, his heart turning to ice.
Solomon walked out of the darkness.
Behind him, from every bush and tree, soldiers emerged. They were covered in dried blood from the wildling battle. Their eyes glowed in the dark.
The Deepden guards drew their swords, but their hands were shaking. They were surrounded by hundreds of killers who had just slaughtered an army.
Lord Lover took a deep breath, trying to salvage his dignity.
"Sir Solomon. This was my doing. I will go with you to Deddings. I will stand trial."
"My family will pay you ten times the damages."
He was speaking as an equal, a noble proposing a settlement.
Solomon didn't speak. He just smiled and shook his head.
The silence was terrifying.
Lord Lover dropped to one knee. "I will take the Black! I will go to the Wall! Just spare my house!"
"Father! Get up!" Harrold screamed, trying to pull him up.
Lord Lover didn't move. He knew the boy standing there was not looking for gold.
"Your soldiers must drop their weapons," Solomon said softly. "And you, Lord Lover... kneel on both knees. Offer me your sword."
In Westeros, kneeling on both knees was total submission. It was the posture of a slave.
Lord Lover trembled. He stood up, looking old and broken. He walked slowly toward Solomon.
His legs wouldn't bend. He forced them down.
Thud.
He knelt on both knees. He held his sword up with both hands, head bowed low.
Lushen stepped forward and took the sword. A peasant taking a lord's blade. The ultimate insult.
"Now, tell your men to drop their weapons," Solomon ordered.
Lord Lover tried to turn, but Solomon placed a hand on his shoulder, pinning him down.
"Stay on your knees!!" Solomon barked, his voice suddenly cold.
"Sir Solomon... swear by the Seven," Lord Lover whispered, tears leaking from his eyes. "Swear you will spare my only son."
"Fine. I swear by the Seven," Solomon said instantly.
Lord Lover sobbed in relief. He turned his head as much as he could.
"Drop your swords!!" he screamed to his men. "Drop them!!"
The guards, seeing their lord broken, threw down their weapons.
Solomon's soldiers moved in, collecting the steel.
Harrold was weeping on the ground, pounding the dirt in frustration.
Suddenly, his weeping stopped.
A soldier grabbed his hair, yanked his head back, and slit his throat.
Gurgle.
Blood sprayed onto Lord Lover's back.
"WHY?!!!!" Lord Lover roared, trying to stand, but Solomon held him down.
"SOLOMON!!! YOU SWORE BY THE SEVEN!!!!"
"WHY?!!!!"
"WHY?!!!!"
Solomon grabbed Lord Lover's hair and forced him to watch his son die, choking on his own blood.
"Your son killed ten of my men guarding the wagons!!" Solomon whispered in his ear. "Ten of my brothers!!"
"And one more thing..."
Solomon drew his dagger.
"I don't fucking believe in the Seven."
Slash.
He opened Lord Lover's throat.
Solomon wiped his hand on the dead lord's cloak. He signaled his men.
"Finish them."
He turned and walked into the darkness.
Behind him, the screams of the remaining Deepden guards rang out.
Solomon didn't look back.