Game of Thrones: The Dragonborn - Chapter 147 - Taking Barrowton.

[Chapter Size: 2100 Words.] Third Person POV. North. ... ... It was in the middle of the night that the battle finally calmed down. The men

[Chapter Size: 2100 Words.]

Third Person POV.
North.

...

...

It was in the middle of the night that the battle finally calmed down.
The men at Daemon's side began shouting over the bodies, both of fallen comrades and enemies, who were the majority of the dead.

They continued to exclaim and celebrate. The storm had finally calmed, and the flames now burned more fiercely, no longer extinguished by the rain.

Daemon stood beside Ghost, with Dark­sister in his bloodied hand. He had entered the battle near its end, watching the scene before him with satisfaction.

His gaze fell upon the castle, where many men of House Dustin were staring in surprise at what had happened this night without warning. There were many soldiers holding torches atop the walls.

Only a few ironborn had managed to escape, boarding their ships and fleeing, but most of the ships remained trapped along the shore, which Daemon had ordered to be kept, as they would soon be used.

Daemon turned to the men approaching him, seeking guidance.

"Let’s set up a tent to discuss tonight’s victory," Daemon demanded of his men, while Lord Tallhart relayed the king’s order to erect the command tent.

As the men began shouting and celebrating their victory amidst mud and blood, Daemon entered the tent once it was raised, his men following shortly after—those within the small group of commanders.

"We don’t yet know how many men we’ve lost. We’ll figure that out once we’ve rested. For now, I want a camp set up for our men to rest, away from where the storm hit. We’ll return here tomorrow."

"Your Majesty, couldn’t Lady Dustin... she offered us a place in the castle?" Grey Cerwyn’s youthful voice murmured from one side of the table.

"That woman is a viper," Benfred growled from the other side.

"Lord Tallhart is right, Lord Cerwyn," Daemon began. "There are signs that the Dustin men took part in the Red Wedding and are aligned with the Boltons, returning to the North. She already sees us as enemies, so don’t expect any kindness from that woman."

Daemon said this knowing well that she hated the Starks—and likely him too. Even if she begged for forgiveness on her knees, he wouldn’t grow sympathetic to her, being someone who betrayed her former lord.

"So are we going to take down that castle?" a free folk man asked.

"Yes. But we’ll do it tomorrow," Daemon said. His men needed rest—they had fought all night and would need to prepare for battle. He would give them that privilege, not to mention that he still had to negotiate with the Dustin men.

It was at that moment that Val entered the tent, her armor soaked in blood. Daemon’s attention was immediately drawn to the sword she held, sheathed.

"I see you defeated Lord Harlaw in battle and took Nightfall..." Daemon remarked, noting the eyes turning to the blonde. She removed her helmet and nodded, drawing the sword to show it.

"I brought the bastard down. I figured this would interest you, Daemon, so I took it," she said.

Daemon smiled.

"You don’t need to hand it over. That sword will be useful in your hands. I want you to wield it, so our enemies see and respect your skill," Daemon said.

Val nodded, a bit surprised, but didn’t argue and sheathed the sword.

There were envious glances from the northern lords present—after all, a Valyrian steel sword was a coveted prize. But no one said anything—for obvious reasons.

Either way, Daemon continued discussing the next strategy.

They returned to prepare the men and move out, while many were still celebrating and scavenging the dead for gold or valuable items. Orders were then given for everyone to return to where the supply wagons had been left.

After the rain Daemon had summoned, the whole place was drenched in mud. There was no way to set up camp there, so they marched several kilometers back to where the wagons were, and began setting up camp right there.

By midday, they advanced once again toward Lady Dustin’s castle.

Daemon kept his eyes on it, closely observing what was happening inside. The lady of the house seemed at a loss for what to do.

On one hand, Daemon saw clearly that she disliked him, even blaming him for her husband's death. Some mocked that the woman had loved Brandon Stark her whole life, and that Richard Stark had ruined her relationship with both him and Daemon, yet she still mourned her husband’s death—blaming Daemon more than even Lord Stark himself.

But on the other hand, Daemon could see the restlessness among the men around her. They knew Daemon could easily bring down their castle and were afraid—some even pressuring the lady to surrender the castle without a fight.

But it didn’t matter. Daemon advanced again across the field of corpses and ordered his men to begin clearing the area, waiting for a representative from House Dustin while they stopped at a short distance from Barrowton.

Soon, the gate opened, and a group exited the castle under a white flag.

Daemon went in person, accompanied by Lord Tallhart, Lord Cerwyn, his wife, and a few free folk warriors.

"Lord Tallhart, Lord Cerwyn... and Lord Targaryen," the man greeted, ignoring all others.

"King Daemon!" the Cerwyn boy exclaimed again, just as he had in the square at Torrhen’s.

Daemon merely smiled and looked at the man, who seemed a bit hesitant.

"It’s alright. Either way, let’s move on with what we came to say," Daemon said to them, then motioned for the man to proceed.

"My name is Ser Harric Ironwind. Lady Dustin wants to know your intentions, Lord Targaryen. She wants to know what you plan to do," he said.

"That’s easy to explain... There’s strong evidence that House Dustin was also involved in the Red Wedding, alongside the Boltons. Because of that, I must inform you that Lady Dustin will be taken into custody while we examine the evidence and conduct a lawful trial," Daemon replied.

There was a moment of silence, as some men—mainly the other northern lords—were surprised by the statement, having expected Daemon to be more aggressive.

"That’s a serious accusation, Lord Targaryen," Ser Harric muttered darkly.

"You take me for a fool, don’t you?" Daemon began. "We know full well that most of the Dustin men survived the battle, and Lady Dustin sent only a minimal number to Robb at the start of the war and denied reinforcements when he demanded help."

"How can we move forward? The ironborn invaded the North, thanks to the poor decisions of Winterfell’s heir!" the man growled with a grim look.

"That happened before the ironborn invasion. Even if it aided the North in the end, it still doesn’t change the fact that she disobeyed the house to which she owed loyalty," he said, as the other man fell silent.

"In any case, I won’t speak sweet words to convince her to surrender. We’re going to attack the castle. Either you hand over Lady Dustin, or we’ll attack you," Daemon said. "You have until tomorrow to decide what to do."

Daemon turned his back and his men followed, leaving the Dustin men behind. Their representatives returned to the castle with grim looks cast toward their lady.

A new camp was set up in the area, and the next day, Barrowton’s gates were opened. Peace banners were raised. Ser Harric himself had led their surrender, awaiting Daemon’s approach.

"House Dustin is yours, my king," said the same man who had negotiated the day before, now much more submissive, as Daemon nodded.

"Where is your lady?" he asked.

"We put her in the dungeon," Ser Harric said.

Daemon ordered to be taken to her, after commanding his men to search the castle for anyone who might ambush them or spring a trap.

There, he found a middle-aged woman sitting on a bench inside a cell, in a corner of the dungeon, still dressed in a dark noble gown. Her eyes locked onto Daemon as soon as he appeared before her.

"If it isn’t the son of the northern she-wolf," she said, more mockingly than truthfully.

"Your words are kind, Lady Dustin. I just wonder whether you’re angry because your husband died—indirectly—because of me, or because my grandfather didn’t let you marry Brandon Stark," Daemon replied.

She looked at him, slightly surprised, before beginning to laugh.

"What do you want from me, Targaryen? If you even are one. Because as far as I know, all signs point to you being a bastard," she said bitterly.

"My legitimacy will be confirmed in Winterfell, when I gather all the northern houses. I’ll prove it to everyone. But right now, that’s not relevant, since you conspired against House Stark, your sovereign," Daemon said with a cold tone.

"Which is also your enemy. I’m surprised you’re defending them. I heard you didn’t have an easy childhood with those wolves," she murmured.

"Certainly, I don’t have much love for them. However, I respect honor and loyalty. And I hate traitors. Don’t expect mercy from me. It’s a shame that House Dustin will cease to exist, with you being its last living member," Daemon said.

After all, she didn’t even have Dustin blood, so House Dustin truly had died. It was also obvious that she had been involved in the Red Wedding, due to her hatred of the Starks and her certain connection to Roose Bolton. After all, her sister had married Lord Bolton in the past and given birth to a son, dying in childbirth. That boy was later murdered by Ramsay Snow himself.

A family of disturbed people.

"Either way, know this—you will still have a fair trial. You’ll remain imprisoned until then. Good luck, Lady Dustin. It’s been a displeasure meeting you," Daemon said.

He didn’t wait for her to respond and, without hearing another word, turned and left the dungeon.

He returned to the castle and resumed command of the place. His first intention was to review the letters concerning the North that had arrived in recent days.

He already knew that thirty-five thousand men had reached Winterfell during this time, and the northern lords were growing uneasy with the forty thousand free folk laying siege around Winterfell.

He only hoped those leading the siege were capable of maintaining order within the army, as he had done when leading fifty thousand of them.

Days went by, and Daemon took a pause at Castle Dustin while discussing important matters with his men.

In the end, he called them to a meeting to report his intentions.

"I want you to look after the castle. I’m leaving Benfred in command, since he’s a lord already used to running Torrhen’s Square."

"Leader... you want us to follow a kneeler?" one of the free folk men complained.

"I just want you to maintain order until I return. But he will oversee the castle," Daemon said, as the man finally nodded.

"Where... where do you intend to go, Your Majesty?" Grey asked, as Daemon drew many curious glances.

"I’ll be heading south with my dragon. I want to check on our enemies. I may not return for a few days," Daemon informed, and the men nodded, seeing nothing strange in that.

They talked a little more, and Daemon dismissed them all. As everyone left, only Val remained, with the sword Nightfall at her waist—the blade Daemon had told her to begin using.

"I thought you’d wait for me in a room. Want to fuck here again?" Daemon joked, while she looked at him seriously.

"That’s not it, Daemon," she began.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"I know you’re hiding something. You’re not going south just to look. I’m sure you’re planning something else—I know that face," she said, dead serious.

"No. I intend to act alone this time. I’ll catch our enemies by surprise. I plan to liberate Moat Cailin, hunt down Ramsay Bolton, and kill as many Boltons and ironborn as I can along the way," Daemon said in a serious tone.

"Then let me come with you," she asked.

"You know Winter doesn’t like anyone riding her besides me and Dany... I’ll still need the dragon to travel and take our enemies off guard," Daemon said.

"Please, make her accept me traveling with you, Daemon. Let me be at your side," Val insisted.

Daemon sighed and nodded.

"Alright. You’ll come with me," he said.