Jon emerged from the darkened turn of the labyrinth, his breath steady, his eyes cold and sharp. The scene before him was chaos. The Ibbenese were launching a fierce assault on the ruined fort, their battle cries mingling with the screams of the dying. Blood stained the ground, bodies lay in twisted heaps, and the air was thick with the stench of death.
"Seven Hells!" He said
Jon moved quickly, his feet barely touching the ground as he sprinted toward the fort. He dodged arrows and sidestepped clumsy thrusts from mercenaries too slow to catch him. The first enemy he encountered was an Ibbenese warrior, his face twisted in a snarl. Jon ducked under a wild swing, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted hard. The bones snapped, and the sword clattered to the ground. Jon seized it, slashing upward and opening the warrior's throat in one fluid motion. The fort loomed closer, its walls shaking under the impact of the siege. Jon moved through the battle quickly, his instincts were telling him that he needed to get into the fort. He saw a mercenary struggling with an Ibbenese, their blades locked. Jon drove his stolen sword through the mercenary's back, the blade piercing through to the Ibbenese's chest. Both men fell, and Jon kept moving.
A spear thrust at his side. Jon grabbed the shaft, yanked it from the attacker's grasp, and spun it around, driving the point through the man's gut. He wrenched the spear free, the enemy's blood spraying across his face. Another warrior came at him, and Jon smashed the spear's butt into his jaw, shattering teeth and bone. The man fell, and Jon discarded the spear, picking up a fallen axe. Jon's muscles rippled with each strike. He cleaved through armour and bone as if they were nothing. He swung the axe into the neck of another mercenary, nearly decapitating him. Blood sprayed, painting the ground red.
*CRASH*
The sound of the wall exploding caught his attention, Jon glanced up to see Gendry, his massive frame crashing through the fort's wall, his Warhammer rising and falling with brutal force. He hammered an Ibbenese warrior into the ground, the impact sending a shockwave through the dirt. Jon pressed forward, knowing Gendry's rage would buy them precious time. A heavy blade came down toward Jon. He sidestepped, the sword grazing his arm, and drove his axe into the attacker's knee, severing it. The man screamed and fell, and Jon finished him with a swift chop to the neck. He yanked a dagger from the man's belt, throwing it with deadly accuracy into the throat of another enemy rushing toward him.
His instincts flared and he ducked a swing from behind him and countered by slamming his axe into the man, but his axe broke against the shield of the burly Ibbenese warrior. He threw the useless handle aside and ducked while he grabbed a discarded sword, its edge notched but still sharp. He drove it through the warrior's chest, feeling the resistance of flesh and bone. He kicked the body off his blade and turned to face the next threat. An Ibbenese with a spiked club charged at him. Jon caught the club's downward swing with his sword, the force jarring his arm. He twisted the blade, disarming the warrior, and then drove the sword hilt into his face, crushing his nose. The man staggered back, and Jon slit his throat with a quick, precise cut.
Jon drove his sword through the chest of a sellsword, feeling the warm spray of blood hit his face. He yanked the blade free, letting the man crumple to the ground. Suddenly, a booming voice echoed across the labyrinth, "SNOW!"
He turned and saw Gendry, a hulking figure with a Warhammer, marching through the chaos. Gendry slammed his hammer into anyone who dared cross his path, sending bodies flying. His fists shattered bones, his hammer caved into skulls. "Snow! You can't run forever!" Gendry roared.
Jon spotted an enemy, grabbed him by the collar, and hurled him towards Gendry. The big man caught the unfortunate soul with one hand, lifted him effortlessly, and threw him back at Jon. Jon ducked, but the man's flailing body knocked him to the ground. Jon scrambled to his feet, not wanting to face Gendry without his axe. He sprinted away, shoving people into Gendry's path. Gendry roared in anger, smashing his hammer into the ground, sending chunks of stone flying. "I'll crush you, Snow!" Gendry bellowed.
Jon kept running, dodging between fighters, using the chaos to his advantage. He shoved an Ibbenese man into Gendry, who swung his hammer, turning the man's chest into a bloody pulp. Jon leapt over a fallen body, narrowly avoiding another swing. "Can't we settle this with an arm wrestle, Gendry?" Jon shouted, mocking him.
"Shut up, Snow! You'll pay for killing my father!" Gendry roared, his voice filled with fury.
Jon sidestepped another blow, the hammer smashing into the ground, creating a crater. He used the momentum, jumping off the hammer and dropkicking Gendry in the chest. The big man stumbled back, falling to the ground with a grunt. Jon rolled to his feet, panting. "Your father was a prick!" he shouted.
Gendry roared in rage, scrambling to his feet. Jon didn't wait; he ran, pushing through the melee. He jumped off a sellsword's back, climbing onto the wooden wall. Below, Gendry swung his hammer, smashing the ground where Jon had stood moments before. "I'll kill you, Snow!" Gendry yelled, slamming his hammer into another foe who got too close.
Jon climbed higher, avoiding the rampaging Gendry. Gendry's rage boiled over as he saw Jon disappear over the wall. He didn't even consider climbing after him. Instead, he let out a furious roar and swung his Warhammer at the wooden wall. The heavy hammer crashed into the timbers, splintering them as if they were made of air. He swung again and again, each blow more powerful than the last, smashing through the wall with relentless fury.
On top of the wall, Jon fought off two sellswords. He parried a blow with a scavenged sword, driving his elbow into one man's face, breaking his nose. He slashed the other across the chest, blood spraying as the man fell. But the wall beneath him was shaking, splintering under Gendry's assault. He started to lose his footing, the wood cracking and groaning. He pushed a mercenary out of his way and began to run along the collapsing wall, leaping over gaps and dodging falling debris.
The wall gave way, and Jon fell. He hit the ground hard, the impact jarring every bone in his body. He groaned, debris showering down around him. Brushing off splinters and dirt, he felt a sudden flare in his senses, a warning of danger. He rolled just in time to avoid Gendry's hammer, which crashed into the ground where his legs had been. 'Bastard's trying to cripple me,' Jon thought.
He couldn't avoid Gendry's follow-up kick, which caught him in the ribs and sent him sliding across the fort's inner courtyard. Jon gasped, the breath knocked out of him. He struggled to his feet, just in time to see Gendry charging at him, Warhammer raised.
Jon ducked under the first swing, the hammer smashing into the ground with enough force to send a shockwave through the stone. He delivered a quick punch to Gendry's side, feeling the satisfying thud of his fist impacting his body; Gendry grunted in pain but seemed to ignore it. Jon dodged another swing, grabbing a spear from the ground and thrusting it at Gendry. The Warhammer came down, shattering the spear into splinters.
Jon threw the broken spear at Gendry, then charged forward, slamming his fist into Gendry's jaw. The blow would have knocked a normal man unconscious, but Gendry barely staggered. He swung his hammer in a wide arc. Jon ducked and drove his knee into Gendry's stomach. Gendry let out a pained grunt and retaliated with a backhand that sent Jon sprawling.
Gendry roared, swinging his hammer in a wide arc. Jon leapt back, the hammer missing him by inches. He ducked and weaved, avoiding the crushing blows. He grabbed a sword from a fallen mercenary, slashing at Gendry's arm. The blade glanced off the thick muscle and armour barely cutting. Jon felt his senses flare again, and he rolled to the side as Gendry's hammer smashed into the ground where his head had been. He kicked out, his boot connecting with Gendry's knee. Gendry stumbled, but his grip on the hammer remained firm. He swung again, the hammer smashing through a wooden crate and sending shards flying.
Jon rolled to his feet, sweat and blood mingling on his face. He threw a handful of debris into Gendry's eyes, momentarily blinding him. Jon moved in, landing a series of quick, powerful punches to Gendry's midsection and face. Gendry stumbled back, wiping the blood from his eyes, but Jon didn't relent. He kicked Gendry's knee again, forcing him to buckle, and aimed a punch at his jaw.
Gendry caught Jon's fist, his grip like iron, and yanked him forward, headbutting him with a sickening crunch. Jon's vision blurred, but he twisted free, rolling away and grabbing another fallen weapon, a dagger this time. He lunged at Gendry, aiming for his throat, but Gendry swatted him aside with his hammer, the blow sending Jon sprawling. Jon tasted blood in his mouth, spitting it out as he rose. Gendry charged again, his hammer swinging down with the intent to crush. Jon sidestepped, the hammer smashing into the ground and creating a crater. He kicked Gendry's hand, forcing him to drop the hammer. Seizing the moment, Jon grabbed the Warhammer and swung it at Gendry, but the big man caught the handle and twisted it free.
Gendry swung the hammer horizontally. Jon ducked, feeling the wind from the hammer brush his hair. He tackled Gendry, the force of his superhuman strength sending both of them crashing through a wooden barricade. They rolled, fists flying, each punch landing with bone-cracking force.
Jon got to his feet first, delivering a hard kick to Gendry's ribs. Gendry grabbed his leg, yanking him off balance and throwing him into the remains of the wall. Jon crashed through it, groaning as he hit the ground. He rolled to his feet, grabbed a piece of broken wood, and swung it at Gendry. The makeshift weapon shattered on impact with Gendry's shoulder, but Jon followed up with a punch to the jaw, sending Gendry staggering back.
"I won't give up Snow! I've lost so many of my men, I've lost Edric, and I've even lost Mya... I won't let it all be for nothing!" Gendry growled as he walked towards him steam coming from his body.
"You fight for an unjust cause, and you fight for a man you didn't even know," Jon replied with a look of displeasure on his face.
"You murdered the King, my father, and was pardoned for it!!!" Gendry shouted.
"Aye I did... but it was your father who tried to kill me, he obsessed with my death, he wanted to murder every Targaryen he could, and his obsession led to him killing the woman I love..."
"So aye I did kill him, and I would do it again, every single time, my only wish is that I had made him suffer longer!" Jon spat which made Gendry pause for a moment, but that was his mistake as he allowed Jon to take a familiar stance. Tensing the muscles of his whole body he threw a fist forward with the power of a hammer. It connected with Gendry's stomach, and the bigger man spat out blood as he was sent flying back into a group of Ibbenese men.
Gendry looked up at Jon who had a small smirk on his face and he almost pissed blood at the rage he felt. However, when he got up to try and go after him the Ibbenese attacked; they had seen Gendry fighting all their men and so instead of trying to fight him directly they threw ropes around him and attempted to pull him to the ground. "Been nice catching up with you, give my regards to your sister!" Jon said with a wave before turning and rushing into the fort.
"SNOW!!!!"
———————————————————-
Two Ibbenese men patrolled the perimeter of the Lorathi camp, their eyes scanning for any survivors. A large detachment had stayed behind to make sure anyone leaving the maze was promptly dealt with and to handle any stragglers from the initial attack. They spoke to each other in their guttural language, as they joked about how easily the Lorathi fell to them.
They came across a Lorathi survivor, a young man cowering behind a torn tent. The Ibbenese men laughed, their voices echoing in the quiet camp as they approached him, weapons raised. Suddenly, the sharp twang of a crossbow bolt cut through the air, and one of the Ibbenese men dropped, a bolt protruding from his eye socket. The other Ibbenese jumped back in shock, his eyes darting around to find the source of the attack. He spotted Joffrey behind an overturned cart, the young man's eyes cold as he gazed at them. The Ibbenese sailor roared and charged forward, intent on avenging his fallen comrade.
As the sailor rounded the cart, he screamed in pain. Broken arrowheads, cunningly placed in the ground by Joffrey, impaled his feet. He staggered, his roar turning into a pained howl. Seizing the moment, Joffrey leapt from the cart, landing on the man's back. He drove a knife into the sailor's throat, over and over, until the man's struggles ceased and he fell to the ground, dead.
Joffrey spat on the corpse before standing up, carefully avoiding the arrowheads. He retrieved his crossbow bolt from the first Ibbenese man, wiping the blood off the dead man's clothes. The Lorathi survivor crawled toward him, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. "Please, help me," the Lorathi man begged, his voice trembling. "Don't leave me here. Take me with you."
Joffrey looked down at him, disdain flickering in his eyes. His initial instinct was to kick the man away, but he held back. Instead, he spoke with a stern voice that could almost be mistaken for kingly. "I have no use for someone who cannot swing a sword, whether by injury or cowardice. If you wish to join me, stand up and be ready to fight. Otherwise, crawl back into your hole and die." The Lorathi man looked up at Joffrey, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and respect. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet, grabbing a sword from the ground as he did. Joffrey nodded, "Good. Now follow me," he said, his voice low and commanding.
Joffrey moved silently through the camp, the Lorathi man trailing closely behind him. His eyes scanned the area for patrols, his ears tuned to any sound that might betray the presence of their enemies. They found a spot near the edge of the camp where they could set up an ambush. Joffrey directed the Lorathi man to lie in wait behind a stack of crates while he positioned himself behind a tent.
A group of three Ibbenese sailors approached, speaking in low tones. As they drew near, Joffrey gave a subtle signal to the Lorathi man. A crossbow bolt shot out, striking the lead sailor in the throat. The other two turned in shock, and the Lorathi man sprang from his hiding place, slashing at them with his sword. One fell quickly, but the third managed to raise an alarm before Joffrey slit his throat from behind. The two men crouched low, and Joffrey signalled the Lorathi to stay silent. As he heard another patrol draw near, Joffrey pulled a piece of rope from his belt, tying it between two stakes in the ground, creating a tripwire.
As the patrol approached, the first Ibbenese soldier tripped and fell hard, his head hitting a rock with a sickening crunch. Before the others could react, Joffrey and his companion pounced. Joffrey used his knife, slashing at the throat of the second soldier, while the Lorathi man drove his sword into the gut of the third. Blood sprayed across the ground as they quickly dispatched the patrol.
They moved on, searching for more patrols. Joffrey spotted another group and motioned for his companion to follow. They found a narrow alley between two tents. Joffrey positioned his companion at one end and himself at the other. As the patrol entered the alley, Joffrey pulled a small flask from his belt, one that he had been given by Jon, and threw it at their feet. The flask shattered, and a thick, acrid smoke billowed up, choking the soldiers.
Blinded and coughing, the Ibbenese were easy targets. Joffrey lunged at the nearest soldier, driving his knife into the man's side, twisting it before pulling it free. The Lorathi man hacked at another soldier, slicing through his arm. The remaining soldiers flailed helplessly in the smoke, quickly falling to the two attackers.
More survivors emerged from hiding, drawn by the noise. Joffrey approached them, his voice low and commanding. "Join us, fight with us, or die alone," he said. They hesitated but eventually nodded, picking up weapons from the dead patrols. He quickly organized them, assigning roles and instructing them on the next ambush. They moved silently, circling another group of Ibbenese.
This time, Joffrey had his men gather stones. As the patrol passed, they hurled the stones, hitting the soldiers with brutal accuracy. The Ibbenese staggered, some falling to the ground, clutching their heads. Joffrey and his growing group rushed in, attacking the disoriented soldiers. Joffrey stabbed one in the neck, feeling the warm blood spill over his hand. Another Lorathi drove a spear through a soldier's back, the tip emerging from his chest.
Very quickly Joffrey came to be leading a detachment of a dozen Lorathi soldiers, every single one of them looking to him for guidance and not questioning his orders once. 'Is this what it feels like,' Joffrey wondered to himself. His father had the respect and fear of his men, not because he was king, but because he was the Demon of the Trident. He saw the way they looked at him, it wasn't like the people in Kings Landing, it was different, it was like they relied upon his very existence for breath.
'Can I really be like my father?'
———————————————————-
Qyburn felt the iron grip of Donnell's hand clamp down on his shoulder, the pressure uncomfortably intense. His heart pounded as he looked at the man who had so effortlessly inserted himself into their group. Donnell's eyes, once seeming friendly, now held a dangerous glint, sending a shiver down Qyburn's spine.
"Read the tablet," Donnell said, his voice firm and unyielding.
Qyburn glanced around the room. Samaya, Daario, and Obara were all looking at him expectantly, their faces showing nothing but trust in Donnell. They believed this man and saw him as a friend, a leader. But Qyburn's gut told him something was deeply wrong. The memories he had of Donnell felt increasingly fabricated as if they had been implanted in his mind.
"Is there a problem, Qyburn?" Donnell's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and commanding.
Qyburn swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "No, no, of course not," he stammered. "I'm just not as well-versed in languages as Jon."
Donnell's eyes narrowed slightly, his grip tightening even more. "I'm sure you can manage," he said, a subtle threat underlying his words. "We all have faith in your abilities."
Qyburn's gaze moved reluctantly to the tablet. The ancient writing was intricate, the symbols forming an elaborate pattern. He took a deep breath, his mind racing.
"Just take your time, Qyburn," Donnell said, his tone deceptively gentle. "We're all here to support you."
Qyburn nodded mechanically, his eyes scanning the symbols. He began to speak, his voice trembling. "This... this part here," he pointed to a section of the tablet, "it mentions... forgiveness. It says... forgive them for they didn't know."
The ominous nature of the words sent a chill through the room. Donnell's grip loosened slightly, allowing Qyburn to continue. "And here," he went on, "it talks about... digging too far. They found something... something that is pure evil."
Qyburn's pulse quickened as he read the words aloud. He could feel Donnell's eyes burning into him, urging him to continue. "This is all they could do," Qyburn read. "They did not know how to vanquish the beast and they hoped that maybe one day someone who could would come."
A murmur of unease ran through the group. The atmosphere grew heavier, more oppressive. Qyburn's hands began to shake as he deciphered the next part. "But if they don't," he read, "there are ways to prevent the beast from ever seeing day. However..."
Qyburn's voice faltered. The next words were crucial, he knew, but a deep-seated fear held him back. "I... I can't read it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Donnell's grip tightened painfully, his eyes flashing with anger. "You can read it, Qyburn," he hissed. "You must."
Qyburn felt trapped, the weight of expectation crushing him. He forced himself to look at the next lines, but his vision blurred with anxiety. "It... it says to open the door, speak the words below," he managed to say, but then he stopped, unable to go further.
Donnell's patience snapped. "Read it!" he shouted, shaking Qyburn roughly.
Qyburn's mind raced, knowing that whatever lay beyond these words could unleash something terrible. His eyes locked onto the final lines, but his voice refused to cooperate. "I can't," he choked out. "I can't do it."
The room fell deathly silent. Donnell's face contorted with rage, but he quickly masked it with a forced calm. "You must, Qyburn," he said, the threat now overt. "We need those words."
Qyburn's heart pounded in his chest. He glanced at Samaya, Daario, and Obara, their trust in Donnell evident in their eyes. He knew he was on the brink of something catastrophic, but he couldn't bring himself to read the final words.
"I... I'm sorry," Qyburn said, his voice breaking. "I can't read it."
Donnell's facade of calm shattered. He pushed Qyburn away roughly, the old man stumbling to the ground. "Useless," Donnell muttered under his breath.
Donnell strode purposefully over to Qyburn, who lay sprawled on the floor, his body shaking from the tension. Donnell's eyes burned with a dark intensity, his lips curling into a sneer. He reached down and grabbed Qyburn by the collar, hauling him up slightly.
"Read the tablet," Donnell hissed through clenched teeth. "Think about all I've done for you. All the times I've been there, guiding you, helping you. This is how you repay me?"
Qyburn's fear turned to a desperate anger, and he finally shouted, "You aren't real!"
The room fell into a stunned silence. Samaya and Obara gasped, their eyes widening in disbelief. "How could you say such a thing?" Obara asked, her voice trembling.
"Wake up!" Qyburn yelled, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "How could this man possibly know all of us? We are from different parts of the world!"
Samaya and Obara exchanged uncertain glances, doubt creeping into their expressions. But Daario stepped forward, glaring at Qyburn. "Shut up, old man. You're losing it."
Donnell's face twisted in fury, and he raised a hand to strike Qyburn. But before he could, a voice echoed from the staircase. "What's going on here?"
Everyone turned to see Jon standing at the top of the stairs, his presence commanding immediate attention. Samaya's eyes widened in surprise and relief. She ran over to him, embracing him tightly before punching him in the stomach. Jon groaned, doubling over slightly.
"Don't scare me like that again," she scolded, but her eyes were bright with happiness. Even Obara managed a small, relieved smile.
Jon laughed, rubbing his stomach. "I'll try not to," he promised, but his gaze quickly shifted to Donnell. As he looked at him, Jon's face contorted in pain, and he clutched his head, stumbling back a step. Something seemed to be trying to force its way into his mind.
"Get out!" Jon shouted, expelling the presence with a surge of willpower. As he did, Donnell started to scream, his form flickering before disappearing entirely.
"What in seven hells was that?" Jon asked, panting slightly.
The others stared in shock, reeling from the sudden disappearance of Donnell. The realization hit them all at once: Donnell had never been real. He had been a fabrication, a construct forced into their minds.
"He wasn't real," Samaya whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief. "We... we imagined him this entire time."
Obara looked around, her eyes wide with horror. "Our memories... they were all lies."
Daario's face hardened as he processed the revelation, his jaw clenching in anger. "We were manipulated."
While they struggled with the truth, Jon walked over to Qyburn and helped him to his feet. He then moved to the tablet, his eyes scanning the ancient writing. "Let's see what we've got here," Jon said, reading through the text at a quicker pace than Qyburn had.
"Jon, wait," Qyburn warned, his voice urgent. "Don't open it. We don't know what's down there."
Jon chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd rather deal with the unknown than what's currently following me," he said.
Qyburn frowned, confused. "What do you mean?" Before Jon could answer, a large torrent of flames surged down the staircase, narrowly missing them. The heat was intense, the flames roaring as they consumed the air.
"I may have run into Mya on my way here," Jon said with a sheepish chuckle, stepping back from the fire.
Jon read the final words on the tablet. The purple barrier shimmered for a moment before dissipating entirely. He grabbed a torch from the wall and turned to the others. "Get inside, now!" They hurriedly descended into the dark depths, the atmosphere growing colder. The sounds of the battle above faded away, replaced by the eerie silence of the labyrinth.
(AN: Been a while since I've done a chapter for this, tbh I had a little bit of writers block, I wasn't sure where I what direction I wanted to take the rest of the arc. But I have a good idea of it now, don't worry I don't abandon my fics it's just usually cause I'm busy and trying to figure out what direction I want the story. The end is nigh and the Starlight Crown is within reach, but who knows what else might be there. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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