The smoke from the Twins rose in columns; even after night turned day. The smell of charred stone and burnt bodies drifted miles.
Ned pulled his horse to a halt on the ridge. Behind him, Robb, Catelyn, and a dozen Northern lords slowed their pace, the thud of hooves replaced by a stunned silence.
The Greatjon let out a breath that was almost a whistle. "The gates... they're just gone."
Ned didn't speak. He stared at the blackened gap where the western gatehouse had stood. He had left that parley only hours ago, insulted by a bitter old man who had demanded his son's future in exchange for a bridge. Now, the bridge was open, and the old man was nowhere.
Ned's hand tightened on his reins. He had heard the frantic reports from the few Frey survivors who had stumbled toward their camp, the stories of a beast that breathed fire, a beast that had fallen from the sky and turned the castle into a hell.
He knew who had done this. He thought of the sweet hound that had sat at his feet in the Winterfell, the sweet hound that had carried him and Arya across the Riverlands with a tenderness that didn't belong to a beast.
If he could do this to the Twins... Ned thought. If he had wanted to, he could have turned King's Landing into hell. He could have burned the Red Keep.
The realization was jagged and uncomfortable. He had fed this beast. He had treated a dragon like a loyal hound.
"What kind of monster have I let into my house?" Ned whispered to the wind.
He closed his eyes, unable to look at the ruins of the crossing any longer. The path to Riverrun was open, but the cost felt heavier than any toll Walder Frey could have asked for.
...
I lay in the shadows of a great oak, my head on my paws, the taste of Frey blood finally fading from my mouth.
The sound of a boot snapping a dry twig made my ears swivel.
I raised my head. Ned was walking through the trees alone. He wasn't carrying Ice since it is lost in Red Keep, but he had a standard longsword gripped in his right hand. The sheath was gone.
He stopped ten feet away. The orange light of the fire danced in his eyes, but it didn't hide the deep, hollow sadness there. He didn't look like a Lord coming to thank a savior. He looked like a man coming to put down an oath breaker.
I stood up slowly, my six-foot frame unfolding from the shadows. I saw his eyes flicker to the dark stains on my mane, the dried blood I hadn't been able to wash away in the river.
I took a step back.
My [Detection] picked up more heartbeats in the brush behind him. Archers. Ned hadn't come alone. He was a man of the Old Gods, a man of laws, and I had just committed a massacre that violated everything he believed in. To him, I was no longer family. I was a bloody beast that had taken innocent lives.
In his mind, I was a danger to the very North I was trying to save.
I looked at Ned, and for a second, our eyes locked. I saw the hesitation in his grip, the way his shoulders slumped as he was prepared to give.
I didn't give him the chance to be a murderer.
I didn't growl. I didn't snarl. I simply pivoted.
[Extreme Speed]
The world became a blur of grey and green. The shockwave of my departure kicked up a cloud of dead leaves and dirt, the sound of my paws hitting the earth like a succession of thunderclaps. I was a mile away before the archers could even draw their strings.
Ned stood in the clearing, the wind of my passing still ruffling his hair. He lowered the sword, the steel looking dull and useless in the moonlight. He let out a long, shuddering sigh that seemed to drain the last of his strength.
"I always knew I couldn't fool you," Ned murmured to the empty woods.
He looked at the spot where I had been standing, then turned back toward the camp. The beast was not gone forever.