For the Lich King!

(Thanks to Jinbo Beiyong and Yuandao Ge for their monthly votes.)

Jaime was panicking.

But however much he panicked, he was not as panicked as the half-naked Cersei in the loft.

And however much Cersei panicked, she was not as panicked as Bran, who was dangling in midair.

Looking at the little boy from House Stark who had nearly fallen before he caught him, Jaime's green eyes were filled with enormous bewilderment.

Fuck!

Whose child was this reckless, climbing so high for no reason?

"He saw us! He saw us!"

Cersei hurriedly pulled on her clothes as she shouted at Jaime, who stood frozen without doing anything.

What she meant was for Jaime to hurry up and kill him to silence him.

Turning to look at his lover, Jaime felt as though he no longer quite knew her.

All his life, he had upheld the spirit of chivalry and considered protecting the weak one of his duties.

Even though he had personally killed the king he had sworn to serve, he had done it to protect everyone in King's Landing, and his conscience was clear.

He could not bring himself to lay a hand on a defenseless child.

But when he saw Cersei looking at him with pleading eyes, Jaime hesitated again.

If Bran told anyone about the two of them, not only would Cersei lose her position as queen, but their three children would probably all be put to death.

His expression kept shifting, as though he were struggling in anguish.

Just as he agonized over the decision, a breeze blew past. Jaime's green eyes rolled slightly upward, and his right hand involuntarily swung toward Bran.

At that critical moment, a surge of spectral blue energy buried deep within Jaime welled up like an instinctive response, fighting another invisible force for control of his body.

He flung Syrio away, the tremendous force knocking him unconscious on the floor.

Then Arthas rejected Lancel's suggestion that he summon a maester. Without caring whether Syrio was dead or alive on the floor, he returned straight to his office, still bleeding.

He closed the door and sat in his chair. His long hair immediately turned gray-white, leaving only a few vivid golden strands.

A wisp of pure spectral blue energy rose in his eyes. With Unholy Aura at full strength, his wounds immediately began healing at a visible rate.

"You skulking wretch, get out here!"

The Lich King's low voice rang with majesty. Within the seed of magic he had hidden in Jaime's body, he sensed an ancient presence invading.

But no matter how he called out, the other party gave no response. After pursuing it for some time without results, Arthas finally grew somewhat angry.

A nostalgic smile curled his lips. The feeling reminded him of those years when he had fought Ner'zhul for control of his body...

That had been a very, very long time ago.

"Very well. Since you refuse to show yourself, I won't hold back!"

When it came to fighting for control of a body, who in all of Westeros could possibly surpass the Lich King?

At Winterfell, a thousand miles away.

Bran stared blankly at the Lannister Kingsguard before him, who seemed caught in an endless struggle. Seemingly frightened weak at the knees, he could not move at all.

Suddenly, an astonishing chill erupted from Jaime. His long golden hair began turning white, and the skin all over his body seemed to freeze stiff in an instant under extreme cold.

Even the surrounding air grew several degrees colder, and flecks of frost formed on the ground beneath his feet.

Boom!

Then an invisible force flew from his mouth, racing into the distance as though fleeing for its life.

"An evil god from another realm!"

"You should not be here!"

Leaving behind a threat like some evil villain, the invisible force plunged straight into a black crow.

The crow's eyes vanished in an instant, leaving nothing but pale white. It beat its wings and took flight.

As the invisible force left his body, the chill within Jaime gradually began to dissipate, and his gray-white hair slowly returned to its original color.

"Phew..."

"What just happened?"

Still shaken, Jaime looked at his right hand, then glanced around in confusion, only to find Cersei and Bran staring at him with uncertainty and alarm.

"Arthas..."

Cersei murmured his name. She was all too familiar with the presence of this energy, but she did not know what had happened either.

All she knew was that the scene just now had been utterly shocking.

It was like facing the witch who had delivered that vicious prophecy to her when she was little.

While the three remained at an impasse, unsure what to do, a black crow came hurtling toward them and flew straight into Bran's face.

Caught completely off guard, the little boy slowly toppled backward under Jaime's shocked gaze, until the long golden hair reflected in his eyes grew farther and farther away...

Gold Cloaks headquarters.

Arthas sat in his chair, gasping for breath, fine threads of blood filling his silver-white eyes.

Even with the seed of magic within Jaime as a medium, casting magic across thousands of miles while possessing less than one percent of his full magical power was still far too strenuous.

But...

After recovering a little, Arthas slowly stood and took hold of Frostmourne beside him, a faint smile rising at the corners of his mouth.

Now that he knew his approximate location, Arthas would dig him out even if he had to go to the ends of the earth.

He gently thrust Frostmourne into the floor before him, its polished blade reflecting his extraordinarily handsome face.

Mysterious syllables stirred in his throat as the Lich King finally began calling his subordinate:

"Daven Lannister..."

"My utterly loyal Death Knight..."

"Answer your king's summons at once..."

At that moment, far beyond the Wall, Daven held his two-handed greatsword. Blood covered his crimson armor, mingling with the snow to lend it a strangely beautiful appearance.

Before him, an ugly man missing one ear lay curled on the ground, trembling.

Several corpses lay scattered about the room. Without exception, they were all women.

"Disgusting wretch."

Daven frowned at the ugly man before him. With a curse, he slowly raised his greatsword and brought the man's sinful life to a swift, clean end.

Surveying the bodies on the floor, Daven shook his head helplessly. He had not actually wanted to kill them...

After all, a Death Knight was still a knight.

Following the principle of protecting the weak, he had originally intended to liberate these women from their miserable lives.

But what Daven did not know was that, although he was already powerful enough, he was still only a hot-blooded young man.

When he led the women to Craster, one command from the ugly man had sent these foolish women stupidly plunging scissors, daggers, and other such weapons into his body.

"Ah..."

He cast a Death Coil. The spectral green light devoured Craster's soul, and every wound on Daven's body healed.

Just as he was about to leave, an ancient whisper sounded in his ears. The blood-drenched Death Knight immediately dropped to one knee.

"My king, are you summoning me?"

With both hands, he planted his greatsword in the ground and bowed his head, silently listening to the Lich King's command.

"Daven Lannister..."

"My utterly loyal Death Knight..."

Arthas's voice sounded directly in his ears:

"The heretic has begun to reveal himself. I briefly clashed with Him at Winterfell..."

"I have imprinted His approximate location in your mind. Set aside your current task for now..."

"Go, Death Knight!"

"Find Him, dig out His heart, and wrench out His soul..."

When the whisper ended, Daven clenched his right hand before his chest and answered the empty air before him with solemn devotion:

"For the Lich King!"

Only after confirming that Arthas had finished giving his orders did Daven slowly rise and walk toward the wind and snow outside.

"Could... could you take me with you?"

A clear female voice reached him. Daven turned to see a girl with slightly protruding teeth hiding behind a pillar, looking at him timidly.

When the fighting broke out, Daven had killed all the women who ambushed him, while the others had scattered and fled.

Except for the girl before him...

She had neither fought nor fled, merely hiding behind the pillar all along and silently watching everything that happened.

"What is your name?"

After he had killed so many people, this woman still dared to think of following him. Daven could not help admiring her courage.

"Gilly... my name is Gilly."

"Please let me follow you, my lord."

"I can work. I can do anything."

The girl answered hastily, actually stripping off her clothes. Her snow-white, slender body appeared before Daven's eyes with nothing concealed.

"Put them back on."

Daven had no interest in the girl's smooth, bare flesh. He gave her only a passing glance before looking away.

He removed the badge from his chest and placed it in her hand, then fumbled inside his clothing for a moment and drew out a sleeping infant.

Heaven knew how the little one had slept so soundly through such noisy slaughter.

"Gilly, was it?"

After she nodded in confirmation, Daven instructed her steadily:

"With what I am about to do, you and she would only be burdens to me."

"Take this, cross the Wall, and go to Last Hearth. Find a fellow named Smalljon Umber."

"Don't worry. When the Night's Watch see my badge, they'll open the gate for you."

Regardless of her reaction, Daven simply picked up his sword after speaking and slowly walked into the swirling ice and snow.

"Oh, one more thing!"

As Gilly watched with eyes full of worry for the future, Daven slowly turned his head, snow drifting endlessly onto his long gray-white hair and broad shoulders.

"Remember, my name is Daven Lannister."

"Tell him my name, and make sure Smalljon feeds this child well."

"Otherwise, when I return, I'll beat him every time I see him!"