At Lo Quen's command, Blooddancer threw its massive jaws open, and a torrent of blazing red Dragonfire erupted forth, instantly swallowing the entire pyre. The flames surged skyward with sharp crackling bursts, the searing heat forcing everyone nearby to retreat again and again. Jorah Mormont's body was reduced to ash within the inferno.
As the fire gradually died down, Lo Quen spoke once more, his voice still solemn.
"But the bloodline of House Mormont shall not be extinguished. Ser Jorah's widow, Lady Lynesse, has left behind children for him. His offspring shall lawfully inherit the title of Lord of Bear Island, carry on the Mormont name and will, and continue to serve the kingdom, riding to war in its name."
Standing to the side, Theon silently turned the king's words over in his mind.
Widow. Offspring. Inheritance.
He was almost certain that those so-called children had everything to do with the king standing before him.
He looked at the still-smoking ashes and felt a surge of pity.
Ser Jorah, you truly met a miserable end.
After the affairs of Winterfell were settled, Roro, one of Lo Quen's fiercest commanders, arrived at the castle with his troops. Shortly thereafter, Ser Waymar Royce set out for the Bay of Seals with the five thousand slave soldiers Lo Quen had assigned to him. Ships awaited there to carry them on to the Vale.
Under Lo Quen's orders, Roro led the main army to begin clearing out the castles in the North that had yet to submit. Soldiers of House Manderly joined the campaign.
The army first marched north and took Widow's Watch, Karhold, and Last Hearth with almost no resistance. The lords of these castles had already died in earlier chaos or during House Bolton's purges. Leaderless and lacking resolve, their garrisons mostly chose to open their gates and surrender when the army arrived.
However, when the forces advanced to Deepwood Motte, they encountered unexpected resistance.
The castle, once belonging to House Glover, now flew the golden Kraken banner.
Long before King Balon's rebellion, the Ironborn had raided the western coast of the North, seizing several strongholds, including Deepwood Motte. After the Red Wedding, House Bolton nominally ruled the North but was preoccupied with purging Stark loyalists and consolidating its own power. They merely confined the Ironborn to the coastal regions, failing to drive them out entirely. Later, Jon Snow's siege of Winterfell left the Bolton alliance with no attention to spare for the west, allowing the Ironborn holding Deepwood Motte to survive until now.
Roro and Ser Marlon Manderly commanded their troops to surround Deepwood Motte completely. Built against an ancient forest, the castle's walls were not as tall as Winterfell's, but they were solid and difficult to breach.
The Ironborn stood savagely atop the battlements, loosing arrows and hurling curses without pause. Devoted to the Drowned God and fierce by nature, they showed no fear even while under siege.
Roro directed the slave soldiers in wave after wave of assaults. Arrows streaked toward the walls, and battering rams slammed into the iron-reinforced wooden gates with dull, booming impacts. The Ironborn fought back stubbornly with axes and spears, cutting down soldiers who tried to climb the ladders.
The fighting was brutal. Bodies piled up beneath the walls, and blood soaked into the snow-covered ground.
Ser Marlon directed the Manderly archers to provide covering fire, but progress remained slow.
Then the sky darkened.
A massive dragon's shadow swept across the battlefield as Blooddancer let out a thunderous roar. High atop the dragon's back, Lo Quen spoke coldly.
"Dracarys."
At the command, Blooddancer opened its jaws and unleashed a torrent of crimson Dragonfire. The searing flames crashed into the main gate of Deepwood Motte and several neighboring towers. The Ironborn on the walls barely had time to scream before they were reduced to charred husks by the extreme heat, or turned into living torches that fell shrieking from the battlements.
The massive gate twisted and shattered under the flames, finally collapsing with a deafening crash and exposing the castle's inner courtyard.
The destructive power of Dragonfire instantly crushed the Ironborn's will to resist. The surviving defenders were thrown into sheer terror, their courage utterly broken. They dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, begging for mercy.
Roro seized the moment and led his soldiers through the shattered gate, swiftly securing every part of the castle.
The battle ended soon after.
The soldiers began clearing the battlefield and taking prisoners.
Ser Marlon strode up to Lo Quen and reported, "Your Grace, we captured their leader in the main hall. It's a woman, extremely fierce. She calls herself Asha Greyjoy."
Asha Greyjoy?
Theon's sister?
Lo Quen nodded. "Bring her here."
Two soldiers escorted a woman forward. She wore leather armor, her face smeared with soot and blood, her eyes burning with defiant fury. Even with her hands bound, she continued to struggle, glaring savagely at Lo Quen.
"Asha Greyjoy?" Lo Quen asked, looking her over from head to toe. "King Balon's daughter?"
Asha spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. "So what if I am? You Easterner who only knows how to win with dragons. Untie me if you've got the guts, and we'll settle this one-on-one with axes."
Lo Quen laughed instead of taking offense. "Quite the temper. Why don't you Ironborn stay on your rocks? Why come all the way to the North to die?"
"Die?"
Asha let out a cold laugh. "Hah! I'm running for my life. My dear uncle, 'Crow's Eye' Euron, has returned to the Iron Islands and stolen the Seastone Chair. He wants me dead too. If I didn't run, should I have stayed on Pyke and waited to be offered up to some foreign sea god?"
Her words were thick with fear and hatred for Euron.
Lo Quen's gaze flickered.
Euron Greyjoy…
That exceedingly dangerous man, with Westeros locked in bloody chaos, what exactly was he doing now?
Would he head for Oldtown, just as in the original course of events?
Lo Quen thought it over in silence. After dealing with Young Aegon, he would have to move quickly against Euron to prevent any unexpected twists.
"So you ran to Deepwood Motte, thinking you could scrape by here?"
Lo Quen looked at Asha, his tone calm.
Asha turned her head away without answering, a tacit admission.
Lo Quen paused, then said, "I'll tell you something. Your brother, Theon, isn't dead. He's in Winterfell right now."
Asha snapped her head back. The anger and stubbornness on her face were instantly replaced by shock, and even a flicker of joy.
"He's alive?" Her voice trembled. "You're telling the truth?!"
Ramsay's horrific reputation had long spread throughout the North. After receiving that thing he sent in place of Theon, she had all but accepted that her brother was already dead.
"He's barely living like a human, but he's still breathing," Lo Quen added. "So, do you want to see him?"
Asha stared hard at Lo Quen, as if trying to judge whether he was lying.
In the end, her instinct to survive and her concern for her brother's fate overcame her outward toughness.
She clenched her teeth and nodded.
"Very well."
Lo Quen nodded as well and waved a hand at the soldiers. "Take her back to Winterfell and keep her under strict guard. And while you're at it, let the siblings meet."
The soldiers acknowledged the order and led Asha away, no longer resisting.
Lo Quen watched her receding figure, his gaze heavy.
He needed to move faster.