Chapter Text
Skinchangers. Daemon had never before heard of skinchangers. And yet, as he spoke with various Northmen to discover what their thoughts on the startlingly good Wildling coordination were, that was the answer that he received most often. No one believed that there were spies among them, but the longer the attacks went on, the less free they were to speak in hearing of animals.
This was mayhaps the strangest thing that Daemon ever experienced, and he had witnessed some decidedly strange things. He was a dragonrider himself for the Fourteen’s sake. He had lived a life, he had died and then woken with memories of that life, of a future that seemed now entirely gone. But the paranoia the Northmen started to exhibit towards almost all animals had taken him aback. His questions apparently did not help improve the situation.
The whole thing seemed to have only one bright spot, or rather a slightly less dark one. While skinchangers could see through the eyes of animals or even control them, the belief among the Northmen was that they were largely restricted to land. Birds might be controlled, but were rarer. Hopefully, none were at play here. Dragons might yet remain a surprise if not entirely a secret.
His gaze drifted as he spotted movement in the corner of his vision. His wife and her brother were close by, inspecting supplies. He turned sharply away. Daemon was planning. He could not afford to dwell on… things. And that eventually happened whenever he saw Laena. Daemon had a task to complete, and he would not be distracted. He needed them to return to King’s Landing as quickly as possible for… Damn it!
He shut his eyes. He had been thinking of keeping dragons undetected in the skies. And skinchangers. Yes, skinchangers. They could use animals for scouting far ahead of their forces, for spying, for listening in on conversations. The skinchangers would see and hear all through the animal. Animals had far keener senses than humans, many were even known to be able to sense fear and other emotions besides.
A sinister smile stretched across his face. They could use fear. The fear in their own men. The Northmen were already afraid of skinchangers. All they needed to do was provide a juicy target or three for the Wildlings to attack and make sure that the force sent to defend it feels fear, believes themselves sent to the slaughter with no chance of survival and better yet, talks of it.
It could not be a force out of Last Hearth, then. All knew of dragons here. All would no doubt know or believe to know that if a plan was put into motion, dragons would be a part of it. They would not be wrong.
He was sure that whatever he came up with, the Northmen would not like.
“Evacuation of the Gift?” The Umber in charge of the garrison did not look happy. Indeed, he looked as far from happy as can be. Were he not a prince, there might be violence. There might be violence still, were he a prince of a lesser reputation.
Daemon nodded pleasantly. “Yes. You need to gather the smallfolk still in the Gift and make them leave. At least until the Wildlings are dealt with.”
The Umber was scowling fiercely at him. “They will be lambs to the slaughter.” Yes, that was the point.
He smiled at him in return. “Which is why we will send word to the forces gathered wherever they are to provide protection for them.”
The Northman looked far from convinced, and Daemon sighed. “Look, we cannot use dragons when we could well be burning out our own folks along with the Wildlings.” His voice turned stern. “And I have no intention of spending moons tracking down one or two Wildlings at a time. Dragons are wasted on that.”
The Northman looked only slightly less unhappy, but a lot more understanding, as he sighed. “So you mean to burn the Gift to burn the Wildlings.”
Daemon left him to his conclusions. It came to him that whatever they did, the news of the dragons would spread. Even if they only sent out messengers to the other gathered forces, people talked.
Laenor spoke up next, frowning. “It occurs to me that it would be for the best to have the evacuation happen all at once. And it cannot happen all along the Kingsroad. The smallfolk would be too exposed for too long even before they reach it.”
Umber was gritting his teeth. “Just what is it that you suggest, my lord?”
“I am suggesting that we use more than one route along which the people would leave. One from Queenscrown down along the Kingsroad, yes. That would be the westernmost one. We need one, preferably two more to the east. The Gift is simply too vast for just one.”
The Northman was staring at them aghast. “You mean to split our forces not once, but twice to protect a long line of smallfolk.”
Daemon looked at him with a smile. Yes, that was exactly what they wanted them to do. And yes, it was supposed to look a suicide.
“It will be for the best. Trust me.” And it would be. The Wildlings would see a long line of smallfolk with all their worldly possessions, with a protection force stretched out too thin. They would likely be cautious of a trap and send out whatever animals they had to investigate. And they would smell fear and hear talk of folly, and would not resist gathering to attack.
The Northman regarded Daemon with dark suspicion at his words.
He could not suppress the talk of dragons, but he could grow the belief that they would sit idly by while the men died and act only once there were no Northern forces or smallfolk in the Gift.
It would earn him little love among the Northmen, but he cared not. Only the results mattered, and he needed this resolved quickly. They would realize they had been played as soon as death swept down from the skies upon the attacking Wildlings and mayhaps they would understand then.
Regardless, there was nothing the Northmen could do about the plan, no matter how unhappy they may be. To them, Daemon spoke with the authority of the Iron Throne. The Lord of Last Hearth might disagree with him, alas he was out, likely close to Queenscrown with his own forces by now. The Warden of the North might challenge him on it, but he was not there yet, and the likelihood of him arriving before the plan was irreversibly put into motion seemed negligible. This Umber man was but a steward with no authority to call Daemon out on his stupidity, and he knew it, and he doubtless cursed him for it in his mind. If they were lucky, he would curse him for it out loud as well over a pint of ale with his friends.
The Northman was gritting his teeth, his jaw visibly clenched tightly even underneath his bushy beard. He remained silent.
Daemon smiled and nodded. “It is decided then. Vhagar will fly to Queenscrown with additional supplies and letter, carrying the plan. Seasmoke will head northeast, carrying the same message to the forces in that direction.” Caraxes would head west into the hills, carrying him to the mountain clans.
He continued, undeterred by the lack of displayed enthusiasm. “Afterward, the dragons will head north to the Wall. Let us secure it before turning our attention to the Wildlings already below it.”
While they would spend the nights at the Wall, they would spend the days watching the progress of the evacuation. They did not expect an attack in the night, when the defending forces would be more tightly concentrated around a smaller area. No, they expected an attack during the day, as the forces and smallfolk inevitably stretched themselves out into a long column. The Wall was merely the easiest point to navigate to, as they would be returning to it under the cover of darkness. It should also keep them far away from sight of any fucking skinchangers.
Over a fortnight later, as he flew just below the clouds on Caraxes to see the long column stretching below him and the rising panic in the ranks, he smiled to himself. Finally. Finally, they took the bait.
Daemon was quite fed up with the Wall and the Night’s Watch, having spent far too many nights for his liking there. They had moved from Castle Black to Eastwatch after just one night to reduce travel times for Vhagar and Seasmoke. Neither castle was much to look upon, but the garrisons were worse still. If this was the force to stand against whatever threat the Conqueror foresaw, then surely they were all doomed already. He could scarce understand what his grandmother saw in them to warrant granting them the New Gift at all.
He descended lower with caution to better observe, and his smile widened. They arranged themselves so nicely for him and Caraxes, too.
Caraxes swooped down on the attacking line of Wildlings, breathing fire all along their line. None escaped him. When they reached the end of the line, they rose up and turned back to repeat the same along the other side of the column. Some of these may escape yet, but there was nowhere to hide for them for now, and the Blood Wyrm would enjoy the chase.
Attack dealt with in short order, all that was left for him was to hope that the other attacks happened on this day as well, and they could at last be done with the North.
As he returned to Eastwatch before dusk that day, it was the first time he did so before the night fell, and he could already see that he would be the last to arrive still. Vhagar and Seasmoke were already there, resting. His smile was wide, as he went to land. They were done then. If there were any Wildlings left, their number should not be enough to trouble the assembled Northern forces at all as they swept through the countryside.
There was just one last thing left to do.
As they spent their time at the Wall, they came to learn how it was that the Wildlings came to be on the wrong side of it. Unexpectedly, there seemed to be too few brothers in the Watch to keep up with all the duties, and the forest had grown too close to the Wall.
There would be no fucking forest for at least two leagues north of the Wall come morrow. If any soul remained there despite the many warnings made over the last fortnight, Daemon cared not.
The forest would burn on the morrow, and the day after that they would be on their way home.