章節 18: Chapter 17
Jon stared at his reflection in the mirror, his jaw dropping as he took in the startling changes to his body. "Seven Hells," he muttered under his breath, his Northern accent tinged with disbelief. Did I just go from zero to Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson overnight?
His body was taller, broader, and way more ripped than it had been just yesterday. Muscles bulged under his skin like he'd been hitting the Iron Throne's equivalent of a CrossFit gym non-stop for months. Sabertooth, you glorious bastard, he thought, flexing an arm and watching in awe as the muscles shifted and tightened like a coiled viper ready to strike. Who needs protein shakes when you've got mutant DNA on your side?
Running a hand through his hair, Jon couldn't help but smirk at his reflection. This must be what it feels like to unlock a cheat code IRL. He'd read about Sabertooth's powers, but seeing it in the mirror, feeling it in every fiber of his being, was a whole different level of mind-blowing. The raw power humming beneath his skin was more than just intoxicating; it was downright addictive.
"Looks like I'm ready to take on the Night King, Cersei, and maybe even Schwarzenegger all at once," he mused aloud, his voice carrying that familiar Stark grit, even as his mind raced with the possibilities. Who needs Valyrian steel when you're built like the Mountain's bigger, badder cousin?
Jon's gaze lingered on his reflection, the smirk fading into something more determined. This is gonna be fun. The realm had no idea what was coming. And, for once, neither did he. But with this new strength, he was damn well ready to find out.
From the bed, Rhea's voice sliced through Jon's thoughts like a knife dipped in honey—playful, sultry, and impossible to ignore. "Stop admiring your body, Jon," she teased, her eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and desire. "Come join me in bed so I can show you just how much I admire it."
Jon turned, and there she was—Rhea, in all her naked, oh-my-gods-she's-gorgeous glory, sprawled out on the bed like a goddess waiting to be worshiped. He felt a surge of warmth rush through him, his body responding before his brain could even catch up. Well, who am I to refuse such an offer? His heart raced as he moved away from the mirror and towards her, anticipation crackling in the air like wildfire.
What followed was nothing short of a private festival dedicated to Jon's newly enhanced physique. Rhea made sure he knew just how much she appreciated every inch of him, and Jon, well... let's just say he was a very willing participant in that particular lesson.
After they were done with what could only be described as a thorough session of mutual admiration, Jon reached for the Sling Ring tucked away in a small pouch under his pillow. Because nothing says "pillow talk" like introducing magical artifacts into the mix. He revealed the intricate ring to Rhea, watching as her eyes widened with curiosity, then intrigue.
"It's called a Sling Ring," Jon explained, his voice dropping to a low, cautious whisper. Because the last thing we need is for the furniture to start gossiping. "It's a magical artifact that allows the wearer to open portals to different locations. I got it as one of the gifts from the Old Gods."
Rhea's expression shifted from curiosity to something that could only be described as plotting world domination levels of intrigue. "Incredible," she breathed, reaching out to run her fingers over the smooth, ancient surface of the ring. "This could be quite useful in our mission."
Useful? This thing is a cheat code wrapped in a miracle. Jon nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him like a really, really heavy cloak. "Yes, but we have to use it wisely," he said, his tone as serious as a Stark contemplating winter. "It's a powerful tool, and we can't afford to misuse it or draw unnecessary attention."
Rhea's eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement that usually preceded someone breaking at least three major rules. "Agreed," she replied, her voice tinged with determination. "We'll keep it between us, and use it only when absolutely necessary."
Necessary? Jon mentally filed away that word, knowing full well that with their track record, "absolutely necessary" would probably include everything from sneaking into forbidden castles to grabbing late-night snacks without getting caught. But still, he nodded in agreement, their silent pact sealed with a knowing glance.
Great, now I'm a superhero with a sidekick. Except we're in Westeros, and this isn't exactly the Avengers. But hey, a guy can dream, right?
—
As Jon and Rhea stepped into the main room, their slightly disheveled appearances were like a beacon to the Sand Snakes, who immediately pounced with the kind of teasing that could make even a stone-faced Stark blush. Great, just what I needed—a peanut gallery with an R-rated sense of humor.
Diana's eyes lit up with mischief, her smile wide enough to rival the sunrise. "Well, well, well," she purred, her voice practically dripping with innuendo. "Looks like someone had a very eventful evening."
Oh, we did, Diana. Eventful doesn't even begin to cover it.
Selina leaned casually against the wall, her smirk the very definition of "I-know-something-you-don't." "Took you two long enough," she teased, her tone so thick with innuendo you could cut it with Longclaw. "I hope you left some energy for the rest of us."
Why, Selina, I didn't know you cared. Jon mentally rolled his eyes. And for the record, I've got stamina for days, but I'm pretty sure I'm outnumbered.
Tyene chuckled, her laugh low and throaty. "Handled quite well, I'd say," she added, giving Jon a look that suggested she was assessing his "performance" in a way that made him suddenly feel very, very self-conscious.
I'm starting to think that whole "winter is coming" thing was a prophecy about me and this exact moment.
Obara's laugh was more of a playful scoff. "Well, it's good to see you both getting... acquainted." The way she said "acquainted" made it clear that she wasn't talking about exchanging pleasantries over tea.
That's one way to put it, Obara. Although I'm pretty sure we skipped a few steps in the traditional Westerosi courtship ritual.
Nymeria leaned forward, her grin positively wicked as she practically oozed amusement. "You both seem positively radiant," she said, her words loaded with implication. "I trust you enjoyed your... activities?"
Radiant? Sure, why not. I'm basically glowing like a damned Lord of Light priestess right now.
Diana and Selina exchanged knowing glances, which only made Jon's face flush hotter. Great, now they're conspiring. This can't end well.
"Oh, we certainly had our hands full," Rhea quipped back with a grin, her voice thick with playful suggestion. "But it's nothing we couldn't handle."
*Rhea, I swear if you keep this up, I'm going to end up dying of embarrassment before we even leave for Pentos.*
Jon's cheeks were burning, but he couldn't help but laugh along with them. Despite the relentless teasing, he felt a warm glow in his chest. This is what having friends is like, huh? A constant barrage of verbal abuse, all in good fun. Who knew a bunch of deadly warriors could also be the best comedic relief?
Oberyn and Ellaria were watching the whole spectacle unfold with amused grins, like proud parents watching their kids get roasted at a family dinner. Oberyn's grin widened as he finally decided to cut in, sparing Jon from further torment.
"Ah, Jon," Oberyn began, his voice tinged with excitement. "It seems our patience has paid off. My spies have returned with news regarding Viserys and Daenerys."
Oh, finally, something I can focus on that isn't my sex life. Jon straightened, his eyes widening in anticipation.
"They were last seen in Pentos, residing in the manse of Magister Illyrio Mopatis," Oberyn revealed, his tone carrying a sense of urgency. "It seems our journey is about to begin."
Jon could feel the tension ratcheting up in the room. Right, plot twist incoming.
"However," Oberyn continued, and Jon could practically feel the dramatic pause coming, "Daenerys is being married off to Khal Drogo, a powerful Dothraki warlord. We must act swiftly if we are to reunite the last remaining Targaryens and bring them back to Westeros."
Rhaenys raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Is Viserys completely out of his mind? Marrying off Daenerys to a horselord?" She shook her head, clearly dismayed by the news.
Uh, yes, Rhaenys. He's not just out of his mind; he's taken a vacation to Crazytown and put down roots there.
Oberyn nodded solemnly. "Viserys may be desperate to secure an army, but this marriage seems like a reckless gamble," he remarked, his tone reflecting his concern. "We must proceed with caution and ensure the safety of both Daenerys and Viserys."
Jon's mind raced as he tried to figure out their next move. Okay, so we've got a psycho Targaryen, a teenage girl about to be married off to Conan the Barbarian, and a group of warriors with zero chill. This is going to be fun. "We need to move quickly," he said aloud, his voice firm with determination. "But we need to consider our options carefully. Viserys's actions are erratic, and we can't risk everything for someone who may not be in his right mind."
Rhea looked at Jon, her expression reflecting a mixture of understanding and agreement. "You're right," she conceded, her tone serious. "We need to prioritize our efforts. Daenerys is our main concern. Viserys will have to fend for himself."
Well, that's one problem down. Now all we have to do is avoid getting killed by a horde of horse-riding warriors while we rescue a dragon princess. Easy peasy.
With their course of action clear, Jon and his companions began making preparations for their journey to Pentos. The stakes were high, and the clock was ticking. No pressure, Jon. Just remember—no one expects the Stark Inquisition.
—
Oberyn's spies had come through, giving the team the inside scoop on where the Targaryens were hiding out. The group huddled around a massive table, a map of Essos spread out like a giant, confusing pizza. Jon pointed to Pentos, where Daenerys was currently stashed away like some sort of rare, fire-breathing Pokémon. "We need to reach her before she's married off to Khal Drogo," Jon said, his voice all serious and broody. "If she ties the knot, it'll be a bloody nightmare to get her out."
Oberyn nodded, looking like he'd just figured out the winning move in a game of chess. "We leave at first light," he said, because apparently, no one ever leaves at midday in these things. "I've got contacts in Pentos who can help us."
Rhea leaned over the map, tracing a route with her finger like she was drawing on one of those scratch-off lottery tickets. "We'll need to move fast and quiet," she whispered. "We can't afford to attract attention."
Fast and quiet—just like sneaking out of a whorehouse before the sun's up. Jon nodded in agreement, shooting Rhea a quick glance. Can't let anyone see what we're packing, especially not the Sling Ring. Because, yeah, having a magic portal maker is like having the cheat codes to this whole screwed-up game.
The Sand Snakes shared a look, like they were about to drop some savage Instagram comment. Tyene, always the one with a little too much confidence, spoke up. "We can handle the Dothraki if it comes to that. But the real game is getting Daenerys out before she's stuck in some horselord's yurt."
Jon's brain kicked into overdrive. "We'll split into two groups," he said, trying to sound all leader-like. "One group will secure a way out for Daenerys, and the other will make a big enough distraction to keep everyone's eyes off her."
Arthur Dayne, who had been doing his best impression of a silent movie actor, finally spoke up. "I'll lead the distraction team," he said in a voice so calm you'd think he was volunteering to lead a yoga class instead of a death-defying mission. "We'll make sure you have the time you need."
Diana stepped forward with that look she gets when she's about to throw down in an Amazonian smackdown. "I'll join you, Ser Arthur," she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. Because when you're secretly Wonder Woman, you don't ask, you just do. "Together, we'll create enough chaos to keep everyone occupied."
Arthur nodded, looking at Diana like he just won the badass lottery. "Your assistance will be invaluable," he said, with the same tone you'd use if you were thanking someone for holding the door. "Together, we can make this work."
Diana flashed a smile that practically screamed, I can and will kick your ass. "They won't know what hit them," she promised. Oh, and by 'them,' she means anyone dumb enough to get in her way. Spoiler alert: It won't end well for them.
Then there was Selina, who slid into the conversation with that trademark smirk of hers. "Leave the entry to me," she said, her voice smooth as a double shot of espresso. "I'll get us in and out without anyone noticing." Because that's what Catwoman does—steals the show and leaves everyone wondering how the hell she pulled it off.
Jon looked at them all, feeling a weird mix of gratitude and dread. "Thank you," he said, because that's what you say when you're the guy who's supposed to keep everyone from dying. "With your help, we'll get Daenerys back safely."
Or we'll all die trying. But hey, if that happens, at least we'll go down in history as the dumbest, most suicidal rescue team Westeros has ever seen.
And so, with their roles sorted out and their collective courage firmly in place, the team got ready for the mission. Each one was ready to play their part: Diana, who could probably lift a horse over her head if she wanted to; Selina, the woman who could break into a bank vault just for fun; and Jon, who was quickly realizing that being a hero was a lot less glamorous and a lot more terrifying than he ever expected. Welcome to the big leagues, Snow.
—
The journey to Pentos was less a leisurely stroll and more like the kind of torture that would make even the toughest gym rat cry. The group rode through the rugged terrain of Essos, facing everything from weather so unpredictable it made Jon feel like he was stuck in some twisted meteorological roulette, to paths that looked like they were designed by someone who really hated horses. But despite it all, Jon and his companions kept pushing forward, each step driven by the kind of stubborn determination that you usually only see in action heroes—or idiots who don't know when to quit.
So, here we are, riding through the arse end of nowhere, and all I can think is: Wow, I didn't sign up for this in any of my favorite episodes. Jon glanced around at his companions, all of whom were just as miserable as he was, even if they were too badass to show it. Each mile brought them closer to Pentos and closer to the realization that, yup, they were about to dive headfirst into the kind of mess that makes "Winter is Coming" sound like a nice vacation slogan.
And of course, there's that whole "knowing the future" thing. Who knew binge-watching would one day be considered a superpower? But with great power comes great anxiety—or something like that. Jon felt the weight of what he knew pressing down on him, like he was carrying the world's heaviest, most spoiler-filled backpack. But he wasn't about to let that slow him down. "Stay the course," he muttered to himself, trying to sound more like a stoic hero and less like a nervous teenager who really needed a drink.
The trip was basically a greatest hits album of everything that sucks about medieval travel. Bandits? Check. Weather that made you question every life choice that led you to this point? Double-check. Random animal attacks that made you wonder if the universe was just messing with you for fun? Triple-check. But despite all that, they handled each challenge like pros—if pros were people who routinely found themselves in life-or-death situations with no real plan and a lot of winging it.
Honestly, at this point, I half expect a troll to pop out and start demanding tolls or something. Jon shook his head, trying to push the ridiculous thought out of his mind. But the truth was, they were only getting through this because they were all too stubborn—or maybe too stupid—to back down. And because, let's be real, *when you've got Wonder Woman and Catwoman on your side, you start thinking you might just be invincible.*
Still, Jon couldn't help but feel a strange sort of camaraderie with his ragtag team of misfits. Like the world's weirdest road trip movie, but with more swords and a lot more chances of getting disemboweled. As they pressed on, Jon felt a weird mix of dread and excitement. The kind of feeling you get when you're about to do something insane, like jump off a cliff with only a vague idea that there might be water at the bottom.
And so, they kept moving forward, every painful, freezing, exhausting step bringing them closer to Pentos. Jon just hoped that when they got there, they'd have a plan that didn't involve all of them dying in increasingly stupid ways. Because if there's one thing worse than dying, it's dying and knowing you saw it coming the whole time.
—
After days of what could only be described as medieval CrossFit, they finally stumbled into Pentos. The city was a chaotic mess of vibrant colors, shouting vendors, and enough strange smells to make Jon question his life choices. But hey, at least we weren't dead—yet. I'm counting that as a win.
The Manse of Magister Ilyrio Mopatis loomed in front of them like the final boss in a video game. It was grand, imposing, and definitely the kind of place where rich dudes did shady stuff behind closed doors. Pretty much par for the course in this world.
While Selina and Nymeria went off on a mission to "gather information"—which was code for sneaking around and charming people's pants off—Jon and the rest of the crew took a minute to catch their breath and assess the situation.
Oberyn, ever the smooth operator, slipped into his role as a wealthy trader with the kind of ease that made Jon think he might have missed his true calling as an actor. He sweet-talked the innkeeper into giving them the best rooms, all while flashing that signature smirk that probably got him out of a lot of trouble back in the day. I mean, if I could talk my way into a luxury suite every time I went on a dangerous mission, I'd definitely consider it a solid life skill.
Not long after, Selina and Nymeria waltzed back in, looking like they'd just aced a final exam. Selina had that cat-that-ate-the-canary look, which, considering she was basically Catwoman, was pretty on-brand.
"We've gathered some valuable information," Selina began, her voice low and full of that "I'm-about-to-drop-some-knowledge" energy. Jon leaned in, pretending like he totally knew how to handle this spy stuff. Spoiler alert: I don't. I'm winging this like a pro.
According to Selina, they'd sweet-talked a few of the servants at the manse and gotten the inside scoop on the layout, daily routines, and the kind of entry points that only a master thief (or a desperate band of would-be heroes) would think to exploit. Good thing we've got an actual master thief on the team. Because let's face it, I'd probably just kick down the door and hope for the best.
Nymeria, who was clearly thriving in this environment, added that they'd also scoped out the security measures. "It won't be easy, but with proper planning, we can overcome the obstacles," she said, her eyes gleaming with that dangerous mix of determination and excitement. Great, because if there's one thing I love, it's a challenge that might get us all killed. Yay, team!
Jon nodded like a guy who had any clue what he was doing. "Well done," he said, trying to channel his inner Ned Stark. Act cool, Snow. You've seen this in movies a thousand times. But inside, his mind was racing, trying to piece together a plan that wouldn't end with them getting impaled on Dothraki arakhs or roasted by dragons.
So now we just have to sneak into the heavily guarded manse, rescue a princess, and make it out alive. No pressure, right? Just another Tuesday in the land of impossible missions and terrible odds. But Jon could feel that weird mixture of dread and adrenaline building up in his gut—the same feeling he used to get before a big game, or a particularly difficult boss fight.
"Let's put this information to good use and devise a plan to rescue Daenerys," Jon said, trying to keep the "we're all gonna die" tone out of his voice. But inside, he was already running through a mental checklist of everything that could go wrong. And let's be real: it's a long list.
All right, Snow, he thought to himself as they huddled together to plan. Time to see if all that binge-watching was good for anything besides ruining your sleep schedule.
—
Gathered around a table in their not-so-luxurious accommodations—because let's be real, they were lucky to get any place that didn't come with fleas—Jon and his crew got down to business. The room buzzed with the kind of energy that comes right before a group of misfits decides to do something incredibly dangerous, incredibly stupid, or both. Spoiler alert: It's both.
Arthur, the quintessential knight in shining armor—minus the shining because they were supposed to be incognito—leaned over the table, his voice all serious and commanding. "We'll need to approach from multiple points to create a diversion," he said, like he was planning a medieval heist. "I'll draw the guards away from the main entrance."
Because of course he would. Dude probably wakes up thinking about heroic sacrifices over his morning porridge.
Diana, with that Amazonian determination that made Jon wonder if she could bench-press a horse, nodded like they weren't all about to walk into what could easily turn into a bloodbath. "And I'll accompany Arthur to ensure the distraction is effective," she added, looking like she was ready to leap into action—and maybe punch a few heads off along the way. Reminder: Never get on her bad side. Ever.
Selina and Nymeria exchanged one of those looks that said they were up to no good, which in this case was exactly what they needed. Selina, always the one with a plan and the claws to back it up, smirked. "We can use the information we've gathered to find a less guarded entry point," she purred, excitement practically oozing from her voice. Because nothing says 'fun' like breaking into a mansion full of people who might try to kill you.
Nymeria nodded in agreement, already mentally mapping out the manse like she'd been doing this her whole life—which, knowing her, she probably had. "Once inside, we'll navigate through the corridors to locate Daenerys," she added, making it sound way easier than it was going to be. Sure, just a little light trespassing, no big deal. Not like there are Dothraki or anything.
Jon listened, trying to look like he had everything under control while internally screaming, Okay, deep breaths, Snow. You've got Wonder Woman, Catwoman, and the deadliest Dornish crew on your side. What could possibly go wrong? Oh, right, everything.
"It's risky," Jon finally said, trying to channel his inner brooding hero without tripping over his own words, "but it's our best chance." His voice carried that 'we're probably all gonna die, but let's do it anyway' vibe. "We move at dawn. Let's make this count."
Which is basically code for 'I hope you said your goodbyes, because things are about to get messy.'
With the plan set, everyone steeled themselves for what was coming. Jon tried not to think too hard about the fact that they were about to storm a manse that could be full of all kinds of medieval horrors. But hey, at least it'll make for a hell of a story if we survive. And if we don't… well, guess I won't have to worry about explaining it to anyone, will I?
As they prepared for the mission, Jon couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen something like this in a movie once—only this time, there were no do-overs, no reshoots, and definitely no popcorn. Welcome to Westeros, where every plan is a crapshoot and you're just hoping you don't roll a natural one.
—
With the moon hanging high in the sky, Jon knew he had to hustle. Dawn was just around the corner, and he really didn't want to be the guy who shows up late to the "Rescue a Targaryen" party. That's the kind of thing that gets you on the "not invited to cool missions anymore" list. So, he slipped out of the inn and headed for a quiet spot on the edge of Pentos, where the city noise gave way to the subtle rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl.
Right, let's make this quick. Got a bird to bond with, and then back in time for the big show.
It wasn't long before Jon spotted his target—a hawk gliding smoothly in the night sky, probably on the hunt for some unlucky rodent. Jon reached out with his mind, feeling the familiar, almost electric connection snap into place. The hawk noticed him immediately, acknowledging his presence with an annoyed flick of its wing, like it knew Jon was about to crash its dinner party.
Sorry, pal, but you're about to become my new best friend. Or at least my "give me the aerial view while I play hero" buddy.
The hawk circled lower, and Jon felt his consciousness merge with the bird's. Suddenly, the world was brighter, sharper, every detail coming into focus with an intensity that made Jon's human eyes feel like they'd been missing out.
Whoa, this is better than HD. No wonder this guy's such a good hunter.
Horus—that's what Jon decided to call him, because ancient Egyptian gods were as badass as they come—landed on a nearby branch, giving Jon a chance to quickly check out his new powers. Because, hey, if you're gonna Warg with a hawk, you might as well see what perks come with it.
New Abilities Unlocked:
- Enhanced Vision: Jon could now see in the dark like it was broad daylight, and could spot a flea on a Lannister from a mile away. No more tripping over rocks for me, thank you very much.
- Prey Detection: He could now sense any movement within a hundred yards, even through crowds. Good luck sneaking up on me, assholes.
- Heightened Awareness: Jon was now more aware of his surroundings than ever, meaning ambushes were going to be a thing of the past. Which is good, because being ambushed really sucks.
Horus, my man, you and I are going to get along just fine.
The hawk let out a piercing cry, like it totally agreed, before taking off into the night again. Jon grinned, feeling Horus's presence in the back of his mind as he headed back to the inn, trying not to look too smug. With this new aerial support, those guards won't know what hit them. I mean, I'll probably hit them, but still—this is going to be epic.
As Jon rejoined his companions, the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon. He gave them a nod, ready to kick this mission into gear. And with Horus on his side, he was pretty sure things were about to get very interesting.
—
As the first rays of dawn started to poke through the darkened skies of Pentos, Arthur Dayne and Diana—cloaked up like a couple of mysterious badasses from your favorite action movie—stalked toward the entrance of Magister Ilyrio's manse. They weren't here to chit-chat or do any of that political nonsense. Nope. These two were here to make sure the Unsullied guarding the place had the worst morning of their lives.
Arthur, the legendary Sword of the Morning, had his famous blade Dawn hidden under his cloak, while Diana's grip was tight on Longclaw—because why wouldn't Wonder Woman be wielding Valyrian steel? As they got closer, they exchanged a look. It was the kind of look that said, This is about to get real messy.
Jon, observing the scene like a superpowered peeping Tom through the eyes of Horus—his new hawk buddy—couldn't help but smirk. I should probably feel bad for those guards, but… yeah, no. They're screwed.
Without another word, Arthur made his move. Like a shadow with a vendetta, he stepped up, letting just the tip of Dawn peek out from his cloak. One fluid motion later, and the nearest Unsullied's spear was sliced clean in half. Before the poor guy could even process that his weapon was now in two pieces, Arthur followed up with a bone-crunching blow that knocked him out cold. And that, kids, is why you don't bring a stick to a sword fight.
Meanwhile, Diana was already in action. Longclaw flashed as she gracefully sidestepped a thrust from one Unsullied, then parried another before bringing the pommel down on his helmet like she was playing Whac-A-Mole. Cloak swirling around her, she moved with a deadly elegance that made Jon almost forget they were in the middle of a brawl. Note to self: do not, I repeat, do not challenge Diana to a sparring match. Unless you have a death wish. Or just really hate your face.
The commotion was drawing more guards out of the manse, exactly what they'd hoped for. Arthur and Diana didn't even break a sweat. Every new Unsullied that rushed out the door was met with either the business end of Dawn or a swift strike from Longclaw. The whole thing was turning into an epic fight scene that Jon would've paid good money to see in a theater.
"Keep them coming," Diana called out, her voice filled with the thrill of battle. She blocked a spear thrust with her bracer-covered arm—because of course she could—and sent the guard flying with a well-placed kick.
Arthur grinned, that rare smile that made it clear he was in his element. "Don't worry, I'm not counting," he replied, smoothly decapitating another spear with a flick of Dawn and sending its owner to the ground with a calculated strike. Man, the Unsullied are good, but Arthur and Diana? They're on another level. If I wasn't already committed to this whole rescue mission, I'd be right out there too. But nooo, Jon, you have to be the responsible one. So boring.
As the last of the guards outside either hit the ground or got tangled up in the brawl, Jon saw his opening. "It's time," he whispered, giving the signal to the rest of his team. "Let's move."
With practiced stealth, Jon and his group slipped inside the manse while Arthur and Diana kept up the chaos outside. But before he fully focused on the mission at hand, Jon took one last peek through Horus's eyes. Diana was effortlessly blocking another spear with her bracer—because why not—and Arthur was mowing through another guard like he was playing a particularly intense game of Fruit Ninja.
Remind me to never, ever get on their bad side, Jon thought, grateful for once that he was the guy in charge and not the guy getting his ass handed to him by Westeros's finest.
---
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