Teen Wolf: Dragon Among Wolves

Chapter 176: Chapter 176: First Meeting

The next day, Jacob and Arya woke up and had breakfast. Then Arya went to train while Jacob played with the three lizard-lions for a bit. Afterward, he went back inside the capsule house, turned on the TV, and started watching an animal documentary. Soon, he fell asleep and didn’t wake until Arya returned a few hours later.

He checked the system notification and found that Sansa would arrive in two hours. He had a big lunch with Arya, and then the two of them went outside to the gate that faced the direction Sansa would come from. He took two chairs, sat on one, and pulled a book from his pocket dimension—Moby-Dick—and began to read.

Arya sat next to him. "Is Sansa really coming today?"

Jacob nodded. "Yes. She’ll be here in less than two hours. I can hear horses coming toward us nine miles away."

Arya sighed. "I don’t know how to face her. To be honest, I don’t like her that much, and she doesn’t like me. She used to call me Horseface. We hated each other when we were in Winterfell. When Nymeria bit Joffrey to protect me, Sansa lied to King Robert, claiming she didn’t see what happened to protect her engagement to Joffrey. And when Father died... she was there, standing next to the Lannisters that day, wearing a pretty dress, watching them behead him."

Jacob looked from his book to Arya. "She probably stood there against her will, helpless, watching them kill your father."

Arya’s voice was hard. "I’m not sure about that."

Jacob said, "Then talk to her when she arrives. And remember—she’s your sister. Give her the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure you’ve seen some bad things, Arya. You’ve been through a lot. But at least you were free. You traveled. You didn’t get abused and live in fear. But she did. She was her enemies’ prisoner. She had to live beside them, careful not to show her emotions, because that would get her killed—or worse. She was probably tortured and abused but had to endure, to smile, to be obedient, just to survive."

Arya’s voice cracked. "She didn’t have to. She could have fought back. She could have killed Cersei and escaped."

Jacob shook his head. "Don’t be stupid. Sansa isn’t someone who likes to fight and kill like you. She was just a naive child who thought the world was a romantic story—that she was going to marry a prince, become a queen, and live happily ever after." He paused. "I don’t know what you remember about her, but she’s not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she’s seen. Not after what she’s been through. Not after what they’ve done to her. So maybe you should hear her side of the story and be glad that your sister managed to survive—instead of being angry at her for things she was forced to endure, or things she said or did when you were both just kids at Winterfell."

Arya’s voice was quiet. "You seem to know things about her."

Jacob looked back at his book. "I only know a few things. But with how cruel and crazy Joffrey was, I can imagine the rest."

Arya didn’t say anything more. She sighed and closed her eyes, thinking about the past. Wondering what would have happened if she had been in Sansa’s place. Would she have survived? Would she have killed Cersei? Or would she be dead—or broken—by now?

They didn’t speak after that. Arya was deep in thought, and Jacob kept reading.

---

An hour and a half later, Jacob closed his book with a sharp snap, bringing Arya back from her thoughts.

"They’re here," he said. "Fourteen of them. Sansa, Littlefinger, and twelve Knights of the Vale."

Arya stood. "Let’s go."

Jacob held up a hand. "I want to meet her first. If you want to come with me, put on a mask. And there’s no hurry. She knows Moat Cailin. When she sees it, she’ll realize that Littlefinger is trying to take her back to Winterfell and sell her to the Boltons. I want her to realize he isn’t her friend before I show up."

Arya frowned. "So you want to appear when she’s most desperate and save her."

Jacob smirked. "Yes. That will help me gain a little affection from her. Maybe even make her accept my marriage proposal easily. You said she loves romantic songs and stories." He spread his arms. "Then I’ll be her knight in shining armor."

Arya gave him a look. "Are you going to tell her about your other wives?"

Jacob nodded. "Of course I’ll tell her."

Arya asked, "Does she have a choice? Will you let her go if she refuses to marry you?"

Jacob smiled. "Of course I’ll give her a choice. Either she marries me—or she marries me."

Arya rolled her eyes. "That’s not a choice."

Jacob’s smirk widened. "Of course it is. Either she marries me willingly, or I kidnap her. After all, that’s what my kind does. We kidnap princesses."

Arya stared. "What? Your kind kidnaps princesses?"

Jacob shrugged. "Yeah. Not just princesses—any woman we like. But don’t worry. I’ll try my best to charm your sister first. And with how handsome I am, I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes. No woman can resist my charm."

Arya snorted. "You’re a pretty boy, but I don’t feel like you’re irresistible."

Jacob laughed. "That’s because you’re not a woman. You’re a kid."

Arya flipped him off. Jacob just laughed and turned his gaze toward a distant mountain about two miles away. On its slope, Littlefinger appeared, holding Sansa’s hand.

Jacob pulled a white Venetian mask—one that covered the entire face—from his pocket dimension and tossed it to Arya. "Wear this. And remember—when we appear next to Sansa, don’t let her know who you are until I finish my talk with her."

Arya put on the mask. "Alright."

Jacob said, "Now, don’t speak. I want to hear their conversation so I can choose the perfect time to appear."

---

Sansa stood at the edge of a mountain, wearing a black dress and a black cloak. Beside her stood Petyr Baelish. They both gazed down at the ancient fortress below in the distance, shrouded in fog. The wind blew, cold and damp, carrying the scent of rotting reeds from the surrounding marshes.

Moat Cailin was a ruin in many ways—its towers crumbling, its walls weathered by centuries of war and neglect—but its position was undeniable. It sat like a jagged spine across the Neck, the only dry path between the North and the South.

Sansa’s voice was hollow. "That’s Moat Cailin."

Littlefinger nodded. "Yes. A bit shabby, isn’t it? You’ve been here before."

Sansa said, "On our way down to King’s Landing. With my father. And Arya, and..." She turned to look at him. "Where are you taking me?"

Littlefinger met her eyes. "Home."

Sansa’s heart clenched. "The Boltons have Winterfell."

Littlefinger nodded slowly.

Sansa looked at him—really looked. His eyes held no malice, only the calm certainty of a man playing chess with living pieces. And she now realized that she is just one of the many chess pieces in his game.

Her voice was tight. "The marriage proposal... it wasn’t for you?"

Littlefinger shook his head calmly. "No."

Sansa’s voice rose. "Roose Bolton murdered my brother! He betrayed my family!"

Littlefinger nodded again. "He did."

Sansa pressed on. "He serves the Lannisters."

Littlefinger said, "For now."

Sansa shook her head. "I won’t go."

Littlefinger’s voice was soft. "Winterfell is your home."

Sansa kept shaking her head. "Not anymore."

Littlefinger insisted. "Always. You’re a Stark. Dyeing your hair doesn’t change that. You’re Sansa Stark. The eldest surviving child of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Your place is in the North."

Sansa turned back to look at Moat Cailin. The fortress blurred before her eyes. "I can’t marry him. You can’t make me." She looked back at him, her voice rising even more. "He’s a traitor. A murderer."

Littlefinger remained calm. "You’re not marrying Roose Bolton. No—you’ll be marrying his son and heir, Ramsay. One day, he’ll be Warden of the North, and..."

"NO!" Sansa cut him off. "No, you can’t make me." Tears began falling freely from her eyes. "I will starve myself. I will die before I go there."

Littlefinger stepped closer and reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.

Just then, two figures appeared out of nowhere. One caught Littlefinger’s hand before it could touch Sansa’s shoulder. The smaller one fell to the ground face-first.

Sansa and Littlefinger both startled.

Sansa took a step backward, looking at the handsome boy who had appeared in front of her—out of nowhere—in shock.

Littlefinger tried to free his hand. He couldn’t.

Jacob looked down at Arya, who was lying near his feet, refusing to get up. He gently kicked her. "Get up. You’re embarrassing me. And you ruined my heroic entrance."

Arya finally stood and acted like nothing had happened. She stared at Sansa but didn’t speak.

Sansa looked at the masked girl for a moment, then back at Jacob—at the sigil on his chest that she didn’t recognize, at his fine clothes, then back at his face.

Littlefinger shouted to the knights, "What are you waiting for? Help us!"

The knights, who were on their horses, charged. But just as they got within three meters, they froze—horses and all—unable to move, unable to make a sound other than strained groans. Jacob had used his telekinesis to freeze them in place.

Littlefinger shouted again, "Why did you stop? I command you..."

Jacob slapped him across the face—hard. Littlefinger fell to the ground.

Jacob’s voice was cold. "Shut up. You’re too loud."

Then Jacob turned to Sansa with a charming smile. He took a step toward her and gently wiped the tears from her face. "You’re as beautiful as I heard. But I heard your hair was red. You probably used berries and other natural ingredients to turn it black, right? That can be considered a stain." He smiled. "Let me see if I can turn it back to normal."

He cast a cleaning spell on her. Sansa panicked as a white light enveloped her body. When it faded, her hair had turned back to its natural red—but she didn’t realize it yet. She just felt fresh and clean.

Jacob smiled as he admired her red hair. "That’s more like it. Red hair suits you better. It goes well with your beautiful blue eyes."

Sansa looked at Jacob warily and took a step back. "What did you do to me?"

Jacob shrugged. "Nothing. I just returned your hair to its beautiful natural color."

She took a strand of her hair and saw it had turned back to red. She looked back at Jacob. "Who are you?"

Jacob smiled. "I’m your future husband."

Sansa’s heart seized. "Ramsay Bolton?"

Arya snorted a laugh.

Jacob looked offended. He flicked Sansa’s forehead.

Sansa yelped and caught her forehead. "Aahhh!" She glared at him.

Jacob said, "That’s for thinking I’m that psychopathic pig Ramsay. Look at me." He spread his arms. "My handsomeness is out of this world. How could you possibly think I’m that bastard?"

Sansa’s voice was wary. "Then who are you?"

Jacob’s expression softened. "Alright. Jokes aside. I know you’re scared. Terrified, even. I can feel it. I can also feel anger and hatred from you—probably because Littlefinger just betrayed you and tried to sell you to the Boltons." He met her eyes. "But you don’t need to fear me. I mean you no harm. My name is Jacob. I came looking for you to propose marriage."

Littlefinger sat up. "Don’t listen to him, Sansa. He’s a sorcerer. A nobody who wants to use your name. I’ve never seen a sigil like the one on his chest. I’ve never even heard of it."

Arya drew the combat knife Jacob had given her—she hadn’t brought her sword; she’d left it in the house. She pressed the blade against Littlefinger’s throat. "Make another sound, and I’ll cut your throat."

Jacob smiled at Littlefinger. "I’ll tell you what, Littlefinger. I can spare your life—but you have to leave alone. I came here for Sansa. I’m not interested in you. As for the Vale knights... they will have to die." His voice hardened. "So choose wisely. Leave, and I won’t kill you. Or stay, and die."

Littlefinger’s eyes narrowed. "Why would you spare a man who has no value to you? I’ve lived with liars and schemers my whole life. I’m a liar myself. I know a liar when I see one."

Jacob shrugged. "I’m no liar. As for why I’ll let you go—it’s simple. I want to show Sansa that you are not her friend at all. I want to show her that you’re just using her. And when it comes to a choice between your life and hers, you will always choose your own life." He held up two fingers. "So I’ll give you two choices. One: leave alone, and I will not kill you. You can even take a horse. Two: stay and die." He paused. "But if you choose to stay, I will respect you as a man of honor. I will let Sansa and the twelve knights go free, and I will not kill you until tomorrow. That way, they will be a day’s ride away from me."

Littlefinger’s voice was tight. "Do I have your word?"

Jacob nodded. "I swear I will keep my word." He looked at Arya. "Let him stand."

Arya removed the knife from Littlefinger’s throat and stepped back.

Littlefinger stood. He looked at the frozen knights, then at Sansa. "I’m sorry, Sansa. This man doesn’t want to kill you, so you’ll be safe. But if I stay, I will die." He met her eyes. "Don’t worry. I will find you. I will rescue you."

Sansa’s voice was flat. "You can rescue me now. You only need to give up your life."

Littlefinger’s jaw tightened. "I will rescue you. I promise. I will bring all the Knights of the Vale. I will find you. I..."

Sansa cut him off. "Thank you for all the valuable lessons you’ve given me, Lord Baelish. Especially the lesson about trust." Her voice was cold. "I’m tired of your lies." She sighed. "I’m tired of this miserable life of mine."

Littlefinger opened his mouth to speak, but Jacob raised a hand. "My patience is limited. You’ve chosen to leave. So get lost."

Littlefinger didn’t need to be told twice. He walked to his horse, glancing back at Jacob and Arya with every step. He mounted and rode fast, passing them and descending the mountain toward Moat Cailin.

Arya stood beside Jacob. "Are you really letting him go? You said he was responsible for what happened to my father."

Jacob rubbed her head and smirked. "Don’t worry. I only promised not to kill him if he chose to leave. I never said I’d actually let him go. I’ll keep my word—I won’t kill him." His smile turned wicked. "But I never promised you wouldn’t kill him, did I? He’s all yours. Just not until he confesses his crimes."

Arya nodded. "Okay. Should I go after him? Bring him back?"

Jacob shook his head. "No need. Let him think he’s escaped for now. I can bring him back anytime I want." He tilted his head. "Besides—did you forget what’s sleeping at Moat Cailin’s gate?"

Arya’s eyes lit up. She smirked. "I forgot about them. I wish I could see the look on his face when he sees them."

To be continued... 😊

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