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Chapter 38 New
The Riverlands mud clung to my paws as I stood on a high ridge, watching the Northern host march through the valley below. I tracked the long columns of infantry and the glint of Robb's cavalry pushing through the dense morning fog. Once I mapped their pace and direction, I turned away from the ridge and moved ahead into the deep brush, clearing the path before they ever reached it.

Nymeria glided over the damp earth to my right, moving in silence to keep pace. .

My [Detection] pulsed, picking up three heartbeats ahead, Lannister outriders. They were resting their horses near a shallow creek, acting as eyes for the siege camps at Riverrun.

I looked at Nymeria. She lowered her belly to the ground, creeping forward, circling around the soldiers through the ferns. I stayed put, letting my internal heat flare just enough to carry my scent on the wind.

The Lannister horses smelled it first. They whinnied, stamping their hooves in panic. The riders drew their swords, searching the bushes for the source.

Nymeria launched from the shadows at the first rider, her jaws locking onto his shoulder and dragging him straight into the mud. The second rider tried to spur his panicked horse away. I closed the distance with a short burst of [Agility], knocking the horse off balance with a heavy shoulder check. The man hit the dirt hard, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp wheeze. The third rider dropped his sword and scrambled away into the bushes in terror.

We left them alive, stripped of their mounts. They would run back to their camps with stories of a giant wolf.

By nightfall, we reached the ridge overlooking Riverrun. The Tully castle sat at the confluence of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork, surrounded by massive Lannister siege camps. With Jaime Lannister in a wooden cage miles behind us, these camps were isolated pockets of confused men waiting for orders that would never come.

I left Nymeria on the ridge and slipped down toward the largest Lannister camp. Rows of trebuchets and siege towers sat near the tree line.

I pushed my internal temperature to the limit. My fur began to glow with a blinding orange light. Steam poured off my body in thick waves. A guard spotted me and screamed.

I activated [Extreme Speed].

I hit the first trebuchet like a falling boulder. The heavy oak beams splintered under my weight. I tore through the siege line, snapping support struts and tearing through thick canvas tents. The dry wood of the siege towers caught fire from the sheer ambient heat radiating off my coat. The camp erupted into absolute chaos. Men scrambled out of their tents, blinded by the sudden inferno, shouts of a dragon had descended on them spreading around.

Then, the Northern horns blew from the dark woods.

Ned's cavalry poured out of the tree line, crashing into the disorganized, panicked Lannister ranks. The slaughter was fast. Without their Kingslayer to lead them, the Lannister men broke and ran for the river.

Morning brought the smell of blood and smoke.

I watched from the edge of the tree line as Ned stood near the center of the ruined camp, surrounded by his lords. His armor was spattered with mud. His mind was still plagued by the vivid, terrifying dream he had experienced in his tent. The vision of the exact future he would have earned if he had stayed the honorable fool in King's Landing.

That vision had strengthened his resolve and hardened his heart.

Two Umber guards dragged a Lannister captain forward. The man's armor was dented, but he held his chin high, expecting the Lord of Winterfell to treat him according to the rules of war.

"My Lord Stark," the captain said, spitting blood into the mud. "I demand the honors of a highborn captive. My family will pay a ransom."

Ned looked at him. There was no pity in his eyes.

"The siege is broken," Ned said, his voice flat and cold. "Order your men in the other two camps to lay down their arms and surrender."

The captain scoffed. "Or what? You'll execute a prisoner of war? You have an honor, Lord Stark. You don't butcher unarmed men."

Ned drew his longsword in one smooth motion. He leveled the point directly at the captain's throat.

"My honor?" Ned said. "You have five minutes to give the order. If you refuse, I will hang you from the highest branch of that oak, and I will hang every men you have left. Choose."

The Greatjon let out a booming laugh, his massive hand slapping his thigh. The other Northern lords exchanged looks of fierce approval.

The Lannister captain stared at the cold steel at his throat, the color draining from his face. He saw the ashes of his siege engines and the hard, unyielding eyes of the Stark lords. He swallowed hard and nodded.

I sat near the edge of the clearing, Nymeria resting by my paws. The vision had worked. Ned Stark had finally woken up.

[

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This is really feeling like an observer story. I know it says non cannon and there is some changes. But those changes really arnt feeling like changes.
 
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