Hughwolf stood behind his men like a wolf-king loosing his pack. Bronze daggers gleamed in their fists, sharp as fangs, and the narrow ledge magnified their threat. Jon's company was outnumbered, outflanked, and hemmed against the cliffside.
But the veterans Jon had brought from Winterfell showed no fear. Their weathered faces hardened, and with steady hands they drew steel. Blades hissed free, catching what little light filtered through the mountain mist. They moved instinctively to form a wall before Jon, though their armor was little more than patched leather and their bodies bore the wear of decades.
"Elder Hughwolf—what are you doing?!" Harken shouted, his voice strained with disbelief. He had drawn his own blade, but as he glanced between the Painted Dog retainers and Jon's group, he quickly realized: Hughwolf's daggers were not pointed at him, but at Jon and his companions.
Hughwolf sneered, ignoring Sola's presence. "Harken. Sola. You are of our tribe, and I have no quarrel with you. But this outsider—" he jerked his chin at Jon, "—today he has two choices. Climb Hidden Fire Peak… or die where he stands."
"No!" Sola darted in front of Jon, planting herself squarely in his path like a lioness shielding her mate. "Whether he climbs or not—that is his choice. You cannot force him!"
Her blue eyes blazed, her slight frame taut with defiance. For all her lack of training, her courage was sharper than any sword.
Old York, standing nearby, felt a pang of awe. Even knights sworn to honor and duty would falter before a ring of blades, yet this girl, knowing Jon barely ten days, had risked her life twice for him. Pure love, York thought, the words forming with grim admiration.
Harken's heart twisted at the sight. Sola's devotion pierced him like a spear. He had loved her for years, dreamed of her smiles and her hand in his, yet she had never once stood before him with such fire. For Jon Snow, she did it without hesitation.
Hughwolf's voice dripped venom as he turned to Harken. "Boy, open your eyes. She doesn't even see you. Come stand with me. Help me bring this outsider down. If you want her… heh, I'll look the other way when you take her here on the stones."
The words hit like a slap. Even Sola recoiled, her cheeks flushing scarlet with rage and disgust. "You—!" she gasped, her whole body trembling.
Harken stood frozen, torn between desire, despair, and fury. He looked at Sola—her bright eyes filled with indignation—then at Jon, standing calm amidst the storm. Then he turned to Hughwolf, who waited with that smug, knowing grin.
Step by step, Harken walked toward Hughwolf.
Sola's breath caught. "Harken…"
Her voice broke, laced with betrayal. Tears pricked her eyes, quickly replaced by burning anger.
Hughwolf laughed, triumph swelling in his chest. "That's right. Bite the fruit while it's in your mouth. How many girls sigh for you, Harken? Yet you waste yourself on this foolish one."
But as he gloated, steel flashed.
"Ahhh—!" Hughwolf's roar tore through the mountain air as Harken drove a short blade deep into his back.
The elder staggered, eyes wide with disbelief. His mind reeled. How? How could this boy throw everything away for blind devotion? For her? For Jon?
Yet strangely, little blood poured from the wound. Hughwolf twisted, leaping back with the wiry strength of a predator. His warriors surged forward, encircling Harken, who now bled freely from counterstrikes. Blades scored his arms and chest, crimson blooming across his tunic.
"Now!" Jon barked. His longsword gleamed as he sprang into motion, closing the distance with a predator's speed.
"Net him!" Hughwolf shrieked. From behind, two retainers heaved heavy fishing nets of tanned hide. Their plan had been simple—overwhelm Jon with numbers, ensnare him like a beast, and carve him down.
But Jon was faster. With a sudden burst, he leapt onto a protruding stone, vaulting high into the air. Shadows blurred across the cliff face, and before the nets could close, he landed behind them. Swordlight flashed. Three warriors collapsed, their throats blooming red.
The others spun to face him, too slow. Jon's blade carved a silver arc, and another man fell.
"Charge!" Old York cried, voice breaking with the ferocity of his youth. The veterans roared as one, hurling themselves forward with suicidal courage.
Steel met bronze. The narrow ledge rang with screams and the clash of weapons. Jon cut down foes with precise strikes, slipping through gaps in armor, slicing tendons and throats. His sword moved faster than the eye could follow, guided by cold clarity.
The veterans fought like men already dead, trading life for life. One toothless old soldier impaled himself deeper onto an enemy's blade, grinning through blood as he shoved his dagger into the man's neck. They fell together, crimson staining the rocks.
Fear spread among Hughwolf's retainers. The narrow space, which had promised them victory, betrayed them now; they could not bring their numbers to bear. And Jon—Jon fought like lightning, each strike lethal, each movement impossible to stop.
Harken, staggering with wounds, still pressed on. With a desperate cry, he drove his sword through Huff, Hughwolf's son. The young man fell gasping, crimson pouring from his chest.
"No!" Hughwolf's face blanched, grief twisting into rage. His hands shook as he saw his heir collapse.
Jon's boot smashed into another warrior, sending him screaming off the ledge. In moments, only four remained. The rest lay bleeding or broken, the path slick with gore.
The surviving men faltered, despair in their eyes.
"Jon—wait!" Hughwolf stammered, his earlier bravado shattered. He stumbled back, voice cracking. "I didn't mean it. I never meant to harm you. It was… it was a mistake. I swear!" His feet shuffled, edging toward escape.
Jon ignored him. Instead, he leaned close to Sola. "Speak."
Sola stepped forward, her voice ringing clear. "I know you were forced. Hughwolf misled you. Put down your weapons, and I will speak for you before my father."
Her plea broke whatever will remained. The men dropped their daggers, shame and relief mixing on their faces.
But Hughwolf's eyes widened with panic. "No—don't listen to her!" His hand shot out, seizing Harken's bloodied arm. He yanked, trying to drag the boy into a chokehold.
Too slow.
Jon's blade flashed once more.
Steel severed flesh. Hughwolf screamed, clutching the stump of his wrist where his hand had been. Blood sprayed across the rocks.
"My hand! My hand!" he wailed, collapsing to his knees. Old York strode forward and wrenched him down, binding him fast.
Sola fell beside Harken, hands trembling as she tried to stem the blood pouring from his wounds. Tears streaked her cheeks. "Harken, don't die. Please, don't die…"
The boy smiled faintly through his pain, his face pale as snow. "Sola… why? Why him? Why Jon? I've loved you for so long. Why won't you… why won't you choose me?"
His voice cracked, each word dripping with heartbreak.
Sola's tears fell freely, and even Jon's heart stirred at the rawness of it.
In that moment, as blood stained the stones of Hidden Fire Peak, the truth of loyalty, love, and sacrifice blazed brighter than steel.
Long live the pure love warriors.
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