Monster in the Night

Sitting on a wooden stool in nothing but a white shirt and dark brown pants with his boots on, Jon rubbed his nose reading the reports on how not only Joffrey was supposedly king but so too was Renly and Stannis. He brushed aside his report wondering how stupid any of them could be before breaking the Tyrell seal on the scroll before him. After a few minutes he sighed as he leaned back wondering when it got so complicated. Between the multitude of marriage proposals and the war, his brain was starting to smoke. Apparently, Doran, the sleeping snake he was, offered his one of his brother's daughter's, he had the choice of whom he would wed though there were implications that more than one was available if he so chose.

Olenna Tyrell offered her granddaughter's hand in marriage but only if he would share some of his trade with them and he had to win the war. She made it abundantly clear that if at any time it seemed that one of the other sides were to win, she would favor them instead. As she stated, her son Mace wanted to marry his daughter to Renly but she was holding him off for now. Having one of her grandchildren as his kingsguard already seemed to put them in a favorable light with the sword swallower. Jon thought over that seeing how much having Olenna's support could help not just now but down the line as well. He opened a scroll and grimaced seeing the seal of a Margaery herself.

He opened it to find it interesting to say the least if he had to describe it as something.

"Dear King Jon Frostmourne, King of the North, The Wolf who feasts on lion's blood.

I write to you in hopes that we can get to know each other better, as I am sure you have heard. My grandmother quite favors you and wishes to see us together, I won't lie to you, I am probably as surprised, if not more than you are with this news. I have never once in my life visited the north, never even reaching beyond the more southern regions. How is it there? Is it dreary and disheartening on the best of days like many say? Or does the white snow that drops on your nose in the morning wake you from your sleep and open your eyes to fields of white and warmth from your heart. While I hear many things going on in the North, none can be confirmed and so I am left to dream and wonder what it would be like to rest my hands upon your chest hoping your embrace would warm me when I am cold. I heard your house name was Winter but was changed when you cried and wailed for several days and nights after what had happened in the capital. I'd like to offer my condolences but I fear that mere words cannot express the sadness I felt for what happened to you. My grandmother tells me the strangest stories sometimes… She told me how a bastard boy was raised as a son to the warden of the North with no knowledge of his own mother only to be brought down by his own wife. She told me how he went and prayed to the Old Gods only to start to show signs of maturity and a change no one would expect. She also told me how her friends told her how the late prince hadn't abducted Lyanna and that they instead married in secret. I am not sure what to think about these stories but hearing about them makes me wonder. I have heard so much about you from others who either hear rumors or even claim to have seen you. So much so that I feel as if I know you somewhat, I won't lie, it makes my heart flutter just slightly at the thought of finally laying my eyes on you.

Forever thinking of you, Maraery Tyrell.

Setting the paper down, Jon's right index traced the outline of the parchment before coming down and onto the texture of it till tracing it over her name. His heart raced like he never thought possible. His mind in shambles as he tried to collect himself. He wasn't sure if she was playing with him or tempting him, possibly threatening him… 'She knows… She and her grandmother both, the question is who else.'

With his hands still slightly trembling he grabs the last scroll before breaking the seal without looking, only to quickly go back and look at the wax seal. A three headed dragon in a display of might. After seeing it, he went back to reading the contents only to slump in his chair with a loud sigh. The flap of his tent opening shortly after with Lorana and Talen both came inside with questioning looks but silent all the same.

"The dragon queen wishes to talk… in person, and apparently no is not the answer."

As the days went by and campaigns were set, the northern forces swept across the Riverlands facing towards the fleeing lions. With a smaller contingent, ten thousand Strong and filled with only the best of the best. The Frostmourne soldiers exclusively went towards the capital, with the Frey's in front of them, it looked to be a simple service. What came instead though was a headache as Jon threw the scroll down into the mud in front of the Frey messenger with clear anger on his face.

"You tell Frey this, if Me and my army are not allowed to pass within the next sunrise, Him and his entire family will cease to exist. That is no threat but a promise."

Awaiting The Frey's response, Jon talked over the coming strategies that his forces could employ with his most trusted comrades. A meeting that lasted hours as they combated each and every scenario even in the unlikely case of a Lannister and full Baratheon alliance against them which was unlikely but still considered. Coughing, Jon gained the attention of everyone.

"The Frey's spat on my message and laughed instead pissing from their towers thinking themselves untouchable. I will show them what happens when prey gets too cocky."

That night as the clouds followed the breeze of wind, A dark shadow rushed under the shadows of the clouds towards the Frey towers. Making it to the battlements. The dark figure waited for only a second before far to his right, loud laughter and jeering could be heard, the banging of shields, and the shouts of warriors calling out could be heard. As the guards up top began to swarm to the area, he dug his fingers into the wall before scaling it with the speed unseen before. Like his fingers were a hot knife in butter, leaving hand holes where his fingers were. He raced towards the top before landing and quickly rushed over towards the tower.

As minutes passed the figure stood in the main hall with two heads in his vice like hands dripping blood onto the interior floors. The late Walder Frey looked up with a slightly horrified look before his eyes narrowed.

"Is that you Bastard? If so, I can understand the rumors with eyes like that. Hah. .*cough* Come to take my head, huh? Well come and get it then you bastard!? Kill him!"

As the words escaped his mouth, dozens of men stepped out from behind corners and over wooden structures, some with crossbows and others with swords, all with the same sickening sneer upon their faces. The man looked to his right and left before a frightening smile appeared on his face and his eyes shined in the dimly lit room. He rushed towards the nearest man before he could even react and speared his fingers through his throat and out the back of the man's neck before pivoting with his right foot and yanking his hand out as his left leg shot upward in a sideways kick making another man's head snap back with a resounding crack before the man was flying through the air till hitting the wall and slumping to the ground in a broken heap. Two swordsmen ran forwards both with a downward slash at Jon but in a quick sidestep to his right, he palmed the side of the blade, with the exposed side of the man, a claw-like hand shot forward. The sound of cracking and tearing of flesh was heard in the room while the terrified men watched, Jon's hand pulling out of the man's side ripping the heart out, his eyes glowing as he bit into the chunk of flesh.

The second man who was in the exchange dropped his sword before his knees gave way and the smell of piss became stronger in the air. The stench was nothing compared to the screams and cries for help that followed. A room painted red as every man there was killed and ripped apart, all the while Walder Frey watched on in horror wondering if this was all a bad nightmare. His beady and old eyes catching every moment a man was torn apart or dropped to the ground in a puddle of blood till all was left was him and the beast before him. As he looked up from the latest bloody execution, his eyes met his, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing as Jon's maw opened wide, filled with sharpened teeth and stretching till it seemed bottomless.

"Plea…" 'Crunch!'