[Chapter Size: 2400 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Beyond of the Wall.
...
...
A few days before Tyrion was named Hand of the King by his own father and headed to King's Landing, far to the south, Jon was already leaving the Wall behind, flying through the frozen lands on Winter.
Leaving the Wall behind, he continued heading deep into the far north, crossing the mountains and the dry forests of the frozen desert known as the lands beyond the Wall.
Finally, Jon was back. His goal now was to reach the free folk's camp.
After a few hours, he was spotted. His attention, however, turned to the man hanging by Winter's neck — Gregor Clegane, the Mountain — who groaned softly. Jon didn't know if he was complaining about the cold or his leg, which had begun to bleed again.
Jon was tired of the man's screams.
"HMMMMMMMM!!!!", he tried to scream, but could only groan. Jon had silenced him with a gag over his mouth. So Gregor could only groan in frustration, his eyes filled with hatred as he had vomited throughout the entire flight from all the shaking, all he could do, after all Jon had given him nothing to eat besides water and had magically sealed his needs so he wouldn't stink during the trip — which certainly brought another kind of suffering to the man.
"Just stay alive. We're almost there," Jon mocked the man, who swung in the wind as he began to tilt the dragon for landing.
The dragon — Winter — was easily seen by the free folk that afternoon. As soon as shadows appeared in the sky, voices echoed through the camp. Alarmed shouts mixed as the men pointed upward.
"The dragon is back!" they exclaimed after Jon had been gone for two moons.
Winter spread his wings to glide and dove swiftly through the sky, drawing screams from the free men and women who tried to shield themselves from the wind he created. Everyone was shouting Jon's name and pointing at him, recognizing his figure on the creature's back.
He circled the edge of the camp before starting to descend, flapping his wings a few more times. When he finally landed, it was with a crash that sent snow flying across the field below. It was the same spot where Winter made his nest. It looked cleaner than when he had left, since the free folk had cleaned up the animal remains Winter used to feed on.
Jon patted the creature's scales, satisfied to have returned.
"Good job," he murmured, before leaping from the dragon's back directly onto the frozen ground.
Winter turned to Jon and let out a small icy breath from his nostrils, a white mist spreading around them.
"I know, I know. Let's get this thing off your neck," said Jon, understanding the creature's reaction.
He asked it to lower its neck. When it did, Jon quickly broke the chains holding Gregor, who dropped to the ground with a dull thud. The already wounded leg bled again, the bandages unable to hold the open wound any longer.
"Hmmmmmmmmmm", the Mountain growled as best he could, glaring at Jon like he was looking at the man he hated most in the world at that moment.
"You looking at me like that almost feels like a compliment," Jon said, cracking a smile... "But don't worry. You'll hate me a lot more soon enough," he finished, before glancing at the hill around them, where people were beginning to run in his direction.
"You came back!" shouted a man of the free folk whom Jon didn't know the name of and who was closest to that part of the camp.
Others quickly followed behind.
"Yeah. Well, anyway, I'm going to get this over with," Jon muttered, as he grabbed the Mountain by his only leg and began dragging him away from Winter.
Gregor there was suffering from thermal shock. His skin was starting to turn bluish due to the absurdly low temperature — in other words, Hypothermia. Especially after being in the air just minutes ago, wearing only a suit of metal armor — which, as Jon knew, was a terrible thermal conductor for cold climates, since when he attacked Riverrun… he never imagined being thousands of miles away some time later.
That's why, in places like this, it was always more advisable to wear leather, or at least a layer between the body and the armor. Gregor was now going through every kind of thing he never imagined facing in his life, but Jon showed no pity.
Either way, Jon simply dragged him, while the man struggled, but could do nothing other than crawl, his hands tied. That only increased his agony of being there, not wanting to hit anything with his wounded leg, since it was already bleeding and hurting badly.
He left Winter behind, who watched him silently, while Jon advanced toward the group of people approaching. The men began to regroup, opening a space for Jon, confused at seeing him carry such a large man — something rarely seen, even among the free folk.
Jon kept moving without saying a word, while the entire camp now had its eyes on him.
"You're back! Why are you carrying this man like an animal?" shouted Tormund, appearing from the crowd, laughing as he looked on curiously.
Jon had brought a southerner, from what he could tell... and a big one, too.
"You're not jealous of his size, are you? But I wouldn't envy the fate he's going to have," Jon replied to the self-proclaimed Giant's Milk Drinker.
"And what are we going to do with him?" Tormund asked, even more curious.
"I'm taking him to the Heart Tree," was all Jon said, dragging the Mountain through the snow as he entered the camp.
He quickly found his companions, who were advancing toward him.
"Jon!" Ygritte shouted when she saw him.
Val and Lucis also appeared right behind.
"I'll settle something first, and then I'll talk to you before he dies." Jon answered them as he continued dragging the Mountain without any difficulty.
Ygritte looked confused, Val narrowed her eyes at the man Jon was carrying, and Lucis looked cautious. The last woman to appear was Daenerys, who widened her eyes upon recognizing who it was.
Jon turned his attention to her.
"How are you? Well... I'd rather you didn't see this. But this is the killer of Elia and Aegon. Known as the Mountain... or rather, Gregor Clegane," Jon said.
"And what are you going to do with him?" she murmured, still shocked.
Certainly, Gregor was one of the people Jon hated most in all of Westeros. She knew that, after over a year by his side.
"Something cruel, if you want to know. But... I wouldn't recommend that you watch," he replied, continuing to walk, leaving everyone behind. Still, many followed him, curious — even Mance, who gave only a slight nod before walking on alone.
The Mountain's groans could still be heard, although increasingly weaker.
Jon finally arrived at the place where Ilyana, the forest witch who helped Jon with Warging when he was starting to learn about it, stayed, along with the Children of the Forest. The woman appeared at the entrance of her tent, accompanied by a few of them.
"I'm borrowing the tree today," Jon said.
"What do you plan to do with him? I thought you didn't follow the Old Gods," Ilyana replied.
"I'll do something cruel. But I'll do it beneath your sacred tree. It would be a waste not to make use of good manure," Jon said, ironically and metaphorically.
"Alright," Ilyana murmured, stepping aside to let Jon through. She couldn't stop him, as long as he didn't uproot the tree. If he was going to use it, the right was his.
Jon then headed to the small grove beside Ilyana's tent, where the camp's Heart Tree stood. More people approached, curious to see what he would do.
Meanwhile, Jon returned to Tormund, standing next to Mance.
"Can you give me a hand here?" he said, tossing the man's leg onto the ground.
"Sure... What do you plan to do with him?" Tormund asked, still curious.
"You'll see," Jon answered simply, without revealing what he would do. He knew few there had the stomach for it.
"He's dying," Tormund noted, seeing the man grow bluer and bluer from the cold, and being dragged through the snow hadn't helped much.
Jon went to a corner and took a torch that had been tied to a dead tree.
"Don't worry... I'm going to warm him up a bit," he said, placing the torch beneath his hand and, with a simple spell, began to generate a flame.
When the torch lit, he approached the man under the watchful eyes of everyone. Without warning, Jon simply pressed the torch to Gregor Clegane's face. Everyone around recoiled, surprised and shocked.
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!", the Mountain exploded in a muffled roar, trying to scream as the right side of his face burned.
Jon burned him without hesitation. His gaze was empty, indifferent.
The man screamed however he could, struggling with all his strength, trying to escape the flames. His skin melted, consumed by fire, even his eye began to burn with a pain he had never known.
Jon pulled the torch away some time later. A thick mist of burnt flesh smell covered the air. Gregor's face was raw — half of it destroyed, the eye melted, and the skin falling off in pieces.
"What did he do to you?" Tormund asked, unable to look away from the scene. Even for him, that was too much.
The Dragonborn showed no hesitation. To some, he might have even looked like a psychopath. But Jon had seen too much: torture, black magic, monsters, dragons, and horrors most men would never dream of. None of it affected him anymore after living over a dozen years in another world with Tamriel.
"He killed my brother," Jon said coldly, watching the man crawl through the snow, rubbing the burned flesh in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. He couldn't even scream anymore. The sound was muffled, and even his throat bled from the effort.
"The idiot is biting his own tongue," Jon commented casually.
"Wait... he killed your brother?" Tormund asked, surprised.
All around, people watched in horror. Some backed away, unable to look any longer. Even Ygritte and Val, who had followed Jon anyway, were frozen in place. Lucis and Daenerys closed their eyes, unable to witness it.
"Yes. He killed my brother when he was only two namedays old," Jon replied in an indifferent tone, which made Tormund raise a brow, incredulous.
"Now... help me hold his hand," Jon asked, as he grabbed the groaning body and dragged it toward one of the trunks near the sacred tree.
Tormund stepped closer and saw Jon make a gesture, asking him to hold the man's right hand as he still tried to struggle.
Jon accessed his dimensional space, noticing Tormund was having trouble holding the Mountain properly. Without hesitation, Jon grabbed a hammer and simply struck hard behind the arm, at the armor joint, breaking the bone.
The man screamed even more, groaning, stunned by the pain. Now, with his arm broken, he could no longer move.
Jon approached with the same hammer while Tormund managed to hold him. He pulled a nail from his dimensional space and positioned it over the man's hand. He began hammering hard, instantly breaking through the armor and driving into the flesh.
The Mountain groaned in pain from the torture. Jon continued hammering until he pinned him against the tree trunk. He did the same with the other hand, asking Tormund to hold it as well. With each blow of the hammer, the sound of the Mountain's groans echoed through the grove, and the place was surrounded by witnesses — most of them horrified at the scene.
After that, Jon asked Tormund to step back. Then he easily removed the backplate of the armor, exposing the skin.
"What's that?" Tormund asked, not understanding what Jon was about to do.
"I plan to do the Blood Eagle," Jon replied, coldly.
Everyone around was confused at once, still horrified by how Jon was carrying out the execution.
No one there knew the blood eagle, but it would certainly be one of the worst tortures they could ever witness. Even so, there were a few who seemed to enjoy it, watching the southerner suffer like no one else had.
Jon took a knife and began cutting the Mountain's back, who moaned in agony. He slowly peeled away the skin, revealing the flesh and bones, with blood spreading everywhere.
Then, Jon pulled an axe from his space and began striking directly at the exposed ribs.
Even those used to torture among the free folk were stunned. They couldn't stop watching, horrified at Jon doing it all by himself.
The Mountain was finally giving in. Dying.
Jon delivered one final strike with the axe, lodging the blade in his back. Then he removed the nails from his hands in one last act. The Mountain's body dropped, heavy.
Jon dragged him by one arm to the base of the Sacred Tree. He lifted the body to its knees. The front plate of the armor dropped to the ground with a hollow thud. Calmly, he drove a knife into the man's belly and ripped it open — all the organs spilled at the foot of the tree.
Gregor Clegane no longer had any strength. That was his final breath. He completely lost consciousness, as his soul was pulled into darkness.
As the body collapsed onto its own entrails, spread across the bloodstained grass, Jon raised his hand toward him. A dark stream formed in the air, and his hand began to absorb the Mountain's soul.
"You'll have nothing, not even death — your soul will be crushed by me, and if I can, I'll hand you over to the Daedric Princes so you'll spend eternity under their torture," Jon said, completing his act of vengeance against one of the men who had destroyed the Targaryen family over seventeen years ago.
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Raccoon Here:
Coincidence, me having to write about the blood eagle in two ASOIAF fanfics on the same day...
-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------
Chapter 111 - Speaking with the Sea Lord.
Chapter 116 - We Go to the Wall.
Chapter 126 - The State of Bear Island.
Chapter 135 - Why Everyone Should Fear a Targaryen and Their Dragon.
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