Chapter 27: Interlude 4: Girls Like You...
Interlude 4 – Girls like you…
Dorne, Water Garden
Ser Arthur Dayne was not a man to be late at the yard for his daily training. Since he was a wee lad, it had been a point of boasting for him to say that he was at the yard with his training sword in hand with the first ray of the new sun. Even to this day, he always maintained that practice, given that he was not indisposed for reasons of health.
He was going through the stances but his mind was elsewhere. Events from the past few days weighed heavy on his head. He was so engrossed in his musings that he didn't even notice that there was someone who had been observing him for quite a while. The sound of a cough broke him out of his musings. He turned to find a Dornish beauty standing before him – Rhaenys.
"My P…Lady." Arthur bowed his head.
"Not quite a lady, Ser…Eric, was it?"
Arthur nodded.
"Hmm, Eric Sand. A ghost."
"Pardon?" Arthur was confused. He was not sure what to expect from the suddenly alive Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. The previous evening, when Prince Oberyn dropped that particular jar of wildfire, Arthur was not in a position to question anything. Till now, his mind was awhirl with a score of thoughts and emotions. The Rhaenys he remembered was a tiny, little lass who used to run around the keep at Dragonstone or the Red Keep with her pet cat. She had named it Balerion. He was having trouble matching the woman of ten and eight name-days in front of him with the lass who couldn't even speak clearly. Not only that, little Rhaenys always had a radiant smile on her face. This Rhaenys, however, seemed to take it as a personal affront with Arthur's presence.
Rhaenys walked towards the weapon rack and started to inspect the spears. She spoke with her back still turned towards the knight, "There was a man, base born. He hailed from the house of Daynes, a distant cousin if you will. He was knighted by the then Crown Prince for his abilities with swords and spears. His name was Eric Sand. Ser Eric Sand."
She turned to face Arthur, the spear in her hand was spinning so fast it appeared to be a blur.
"This man, Ser Eric Sand, was among the firsts to rally when the call to arms reached Dorne. He was among the firsts to stand beside his Prince, Rhaeger Targaryen. Rumour has it that he lost his life at the Trident, protecting his Prince. But that is all that remained of the man – rumours. Not even his body could be recovered."
She turned to look at Arthur. The man almost took a step back from the fury and hatred in her purple eyes. Eyes that matched her father…her brother.
"Tell me, Ser Eric Sand," Contempt was evident in her voice, "Did you think yourself clever when you decided to become this man? Satisfied? Mayhaps proud even? Did you ever think that this man, a cousin by blood, did the duty which you were supposed to do? Did you mourn for your cousin? Or your Princess? What about the man you claimed to be your best friend? I hope you do remember him, he was called the Silver Prince?"
Rhaenys was circling Arthur, the spear in her hands was always in motion, Arthur noticed, everything, from the way she was moving or her weapon moved in a dangerous arc, screamed the Red Viper. Arthur had heard about the deadly Sand Snakes of Dorne, that was what Oberyn's daughters were called, they were said to be dangerous combinations of beauty and skill. Arthur didn't know about the other daughters of Oberyn, but his niece had surely taken in his lessons to her heart.
"Come, Ser Eric, won't you give me the chance of crossing arms with you? What say you about a little spar?" Rhaenys called out in a friendly manner, but the gleam in her eyes was anything but friendly.
Arthur bowed his head to the young woman and went over the weapon rack. He chose two swords and got back to his place, standing in his stance. Rhaenys nodded at him appreciatively.
For numerous times in the past, Arthur had sparred with Prince Oberyn Martell. They practically grew up together at this very palace. Arthur was aware of every little tick and trick his childhood friend would employ in his bouts, he even taught him a few. But whatever it was that his friend taught his 'daughter', was not something for which Arthur had mentally prepared himself for. Rhaenys came at him with her spear cutting the wind in deadliest arcs. He raised his sword to block the strike aimed for his head. He pushed her away and stood facing her sideways, the sword in his left hand was in constant motion while the right one held high, with nary a wobble.
Rhaenys charged again, this time, she aimed the spear at a lower angle, Arthur turned on his toes and let the spear miss him and hit the ground. He wasn't prepared for the girl's retaliatory attack though. Rhaenys, while the tip of the spear planted into the ground, jumped up balancing on the spear and kicked Arthur in the chest, making the knight stumble back a few steps. Though he was wearing leather armour, fitted for sparring with tourney weapons, Arthur felt that kick. He was sure that it would become a bruise in a short while. Rhaenys didn't give him a respite to catch his breath though. She landed on the ground and quick as their namesake, a sand snake, struck with her spear. Arthur hastily brought his swords up in a cross to block the downward slash of the spear. He moved his left foot forward and turned his body while keeping the spear locked with his swords. He made another turn on his left foot and closed in towards Rhaenys. The young woman was made to drop her spear and Arthur's right sword was moving towards her neck.
To an observer, it would have appeared as if the young woman had no other option but to yield. But Rhaenys threw herself backwards and on his hands. She made a complete circle and landed on her feet but also out of the range of Arthur's sword. She turned and ran towards the weapon rack. She skidded to a halt in front of it and picked up a coiled whip from the rack. She turned around and let the whip unfurl beside her. Arthur, once again back in his defensive stance, kept a wary look at the whip.
Rhaenys advanced towards him with her right hand waving all around herself, making the whip in her hand snap out with cracking noises. Arthur paid close attention to the whip, and it proved to be a good decision because, in a blink, it lashed out towards his right hand, if he was even less than a heartbeat slower to move his arm, the end of the whip would have been wrapped around his wrist. He deftly backtracked from the advancing and pissed off young woman. The next time the whip came closer to him, he was just that much late in responding to it, thus it resulted in his foot being caught by the whip.
"Fuck!" Arthur swore to himself.
[CotW]
Oberyn steered as the gentle breeze lifted the lace curtains of the windows to let the sunlight fall onto the bed, awakening the occupants. He looked down on his naked chest to see lustrous curly, black hair draped over him, the head that the hair belonged to, was also laid upon his chest, forsaking the pillow. He smiled and placed a gentle kiss on the said head.
Ellaria, as she was known to everyone, moved from her position. She sleepily looked up and gave a beatific smile to the Prince of Dorne.
"Morning, love."
"Good morning to you too, dearest wife." He brushed a few strands of hair from her face behind the ear.
Ellaria reached up and pressed a fleeting kiss on his lips before getting up. Oberyn laid back and watched as his beautiful wife padded towards the privy in all her glory. Oberyn was a known lecher of the Seven Kingdoms, there wasn't a brothel or a whore – be they a man or a woman, who hadn't had the dubious honour of sating the younger Prince of Dorne's lust. It was even his enormous appetite for carnal pleasure that drove him away in his short stint of exile. If anyone was to say that Oberyn Martell had changed his way, they were sure to be laughed out of the room. But that was the fact of the matter – Oberyn Martell was a changed man. He wasn't the same since the day the cursed raven winged its way to Sunspear, carrying news of Elia's death. Elia, his sweet sister, had once compared his rage with the wildfire. She said it to be forever burning till the reason for such wasn't destroyed. Oberyn had waited. Waited for a long time to quench his thirst for revenge. As a Dornish Man, he was bound to be passionate – be it in the bedroom or on the battlefield. It was in his nature to be all-consuming.
With a sigh, he too got up from the bed. He shrugged on a silken robe before making his way towards the table at the corner of the room. He poured himself a generous amount of wine when he heard the sounds of clashing metals from somewhere down at the ground. He smirked to himself in the thought of how his nature reflected in his daughters'. They too share in his passion of lust and battle. He took a large gulp of wine and approached the window facing the inner courtyard with a smile on his face. But the image there had quickly wiped his smile off.
"My love…we need to get down to the yard, right now!" He yelled for Ellaria.
"Why?" she frowned as she entered the room with her dresses in her hands.
"We are needed to stop a certain daughter of mine from harming a fool of a Dornishman who doesn't understand the difference between protecting himself from serious wounds to performing his oath sworn duties."
[CotW]
The Prince of Dorne and his paramour were seen making their way towards the inner courtyard in a haste. When they reached there, they saw the yard was already crowded enough, servants and guards as well as the little ones who lived at the keep had gathered around to watch one of the Sand Snakes making a fool out of another knight.
Oberyn grimaced as he saw the state of the yard, several weapons were strewn about the ground, clearly indicating that they were picked up and discarded soon afterwards during the bout. Both of the combatants were breathing heavily. But Arthur, or rather, Eric Sand had numerous cuts upon his body but it was Sarella who looked to be ready to drop down from sheer exhaustion.
As he was watching, Sarella moved in closer to Eric with her short axe aimed to strike at his head. Eric caught the axe with his sword and by his other hand, he pushed her away from him. Sarella stumbled back a few steps and snarled back at the man. She grabbed the axe with both hands and heaved it towards the knight. Oberyn frowned as he watched the axe's trajectory, it wasn't aimed anywhere near the man but the ground in front of him. Soon, Sarella's intention became clear – in their struggle, they had stepped away from the muddy ground towards the stone covered parts of the yard. Sarella had aimed at one such flagstone with all her might. The axe bounced from the stone and if Eric was a fraction slower than he was by bending backwards, the blunt axehead would have done some serious damages to him as it sailed past the place where his head was just a moment ago.
Sarella wasn't idle after she had hurled her axe, she had picked up a dagger and with a growl, had leapt towards the knight.
"Sarella!" Oberyn called out to her, making her stop in her tracks, "I think it is enough for the day, no?"
The girl turned towards him and gave a curt nod, "Of course, Father." She looked back at her sparring partner who was leaning on his sword and catching his breath, "That was…interesting, Ser Eric. I hope we get to cross our blades again in the future?"
Eric looked at her wearily, but nodded his head nonetheless, "Of course, My Lady."
"Still not a lady, Ser." Sarella sneered once again as she walked past the man.
Oberyn looked at Ellaria and nodded his head towards the limping form of Sarella in the distance. She gave him a minute nod and hurried after the young woman. With a sigh, Oberyn turned back to look at the knight who was still breathing heavily and had his head lowered, looking at his feet intently.
"I am not even going to ask if you are okay. I will only point out the fact that it is your own fault for the injuries you have received."
"She hates me…" Eric muttered.
Oberyn sighed and placed a hand on the knight's shoulder to turn him away from the yard. He took the sword from his numb fingers and handed it over to a passing servant while he steered the worn man towards the pools. Now that the morning excitement was over, children of various ages had already thronged into the area and were having a grand time if their shrieks of laughter were of any indication. Oberyn steered Eric towards a relatively quiet and secluded spot.
"Would you mind telling me what was that about?"
Oberyn looked to find that Arthur still looked as if he had not recovered from his encounter. He shook his head and stared blankly at the pool.
"She asked me why I chose the name, Eric Sand. I truly didn't know what became of my cousin. It was the first name that came to me when I was in the North and was asked for my name."
Oberyn poured them both a goblet of wine. Arthur took his and downed it in a single gulp.
"She accused me of not performing my duties. She said that Cousin Eric was more of a Kingsguard than I ever was…and then she challenged me to a spar."
Arthur looked at his friend with desperation, "Oberyn, this is not the little girl I remember. She was so full of laughter and joy. She loved to listen and tell stories. She made it her duty to talk to whoever of us was there to guard her doors till she had fallen asleep. She didn't like it if we were quiet. Even Gerold admitted defeat before her. I…I can't…"
"Just fucking stop it!" Oberyn threw his goblet on the floor, startling the troubled knight.
"She was three name days old the last time you have seen her. You do remember what transpired afterwards, do you not? She was smuggled out of her home, she was potioned to unconsciousness by her own mother. The mother she never saw again. The mother who, just a few days after, was brutally raped and murdered. She grew up as a bastard of mine despite being who she is. Neither she nor any of us have ever expected to see you alive. You, one of the greatest swords in a century, best friend to her father."
He grabbed the knight's collar and yanked him forward, "What did you think she will do? Welcome you with opened arms? She grew up with stories about her mother's fate, stories about how her father had died. And then suddenly, you arrive after all these years, hale and hearty. You, one of the men who were charged to keep them from the very fate they succumbed to. What would any child have reacted to that? Fucking answer me that!" He roared as he pushed the man away from him.
Both men fell quiet. Each contemplating the events since the morning. Oberyn sighed and grabbed another goblet to pour himself another drink.
"You still plan to travel to Starfall, no?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. I only came here with you because of…"
"Yes, yes, I know. When would you be leaving?"
Arthur frowned at the man, "Are you asking me to leave, My Prince?"
Oberyn sneered down at his goblet, "I thought bringing you here would do some good for Ellaria. It would soothe her wounds, I thought. But I had no idea that I am bringing back not the man, but his pathetic shadow."
Arthur straightened up, "If that is your wish, My Prince, then I will not overstay my welcome. I will take my leave by this afternoon." He gave the Prince a nod and turned to leave.
"Wait…Eric…" Oberyn sighed.
"Yes, My Prince?"
"Delay your departure by a day…"
Arthur looked on confusedly, "Ah, of course, My Prince…"
"I will be accompanying you to Starfall. The Daynes of High Hermitage are keeping a closer watch on Starfall. A Prince of Dorne going for a sudden visit to one of his bannermen is acceptable to people who have known me, but a lone visitor wearing Martell colours would be under constant scrutiny."
Arthur frowned as he mulled Oberyns words in his head, "I thought you would leave for Old Town. And what is this about the Daynes of High Hermitage? Is my brother in danger?"
"That…is for the Lord of Starfall to tell you. My paramour and older daughters will be leaving for Old Town in a short while. We will be joining them after our business is done at Starfall. Prepare yourself for an early departure tomorrow."
"By your leave." Arthur bowed and turned to leave but once again stopped by Oberyn –
"And one more thing…" Arthur looked back questioningly, "She is still unaware of…the White Wolf. I haven't had the chance to speak with her yet. I can only hope Ellaria will be able to make her calm down and listen to her. You saw how she reacted to you, I can only imagine how she will react when she came to know about him."
Arthur nodded and bowed to the Prince. He headed towards his rooms with a worried look upon his face.
*Line Break*
The North - Winterfell
Lady Maege Mormont spurred her horse on as the Winterfell castle loomed in the distance. She had come to her liege lord for a visit with a small contingent, along with her young daughter Jorelle. The lass was yet to overcome her fears since she had been almost abducted by the Ironborns. For most days, she clung to her mother, her nights were still riddled with nightmares.
Lady Maege left the Bear Island because of the latest missive they had received from Lord Stark. The abandoned castle at Sea Dragon Point, which was left to rot since even before her birth, had attracted Ned's attention. Although he didn't ask the Mormonts for materials and such, he asked for men to repair and guard the castle till it was habitable. Men, she could spare, but it would be difficult for her to assign wages to them, let alone rations and other things. She wanted to discuss with Lord Stark before committing the number of men to the cause. A keep at Sea Dragon point was indeed a welcoming thought, anything to stop the Ironborns pillaging their lands.
"Riders, M'lady." Her captain of guards pointed out another group further ahead of them. She squinted her eyes to see the banner they were flying.
"Stark?"
"No, M'lady, Umbers."
Maege raised an eyebrow hearing that, It was quite a coincidence that Greatjon Umber chose the exact same time as her to pay a visit to Winterfell. She told her men to pick the pace up a bit. The other party had also spotted them approaching by then and slowed their advance, even when Maege's party were not flying the banner of House Mormont, yet.
"Ho! Riders of Last Hearth!" One of her men harked as they neared them.
"Aye, Who might be calling?"
"Lady Maege of House Mormont!"
In an instant, a booming voice reached her ears –
"Maege!? Why is it your scrawny arse follows me everywhere I go?"
A smile blossomed on her face as she hollered back, "Your wife will have your balls if you keep staring at my arse, Jon!"
Uproarious laughter came from the Umber contingent. Soon, both parties were riding side by side towards Winterfell.
"It's good to see you again, Jon."
"Aye, it has been what? A year, since we fucked those Skagosi?"
"Near about, aye. What are you doing here?"
Northerners did not believe in beating around the bush if they wanted to say something.
Jon gave her a sideways glance before turning his head back, "We have been instructed to scout for lands. We are to mark suitable spots to establish farmlands and guardhouses bordering the Wolfswood. I want to clear some doubts before I commit my men to it. What about you?"
"Sea Dragon Point." She grunted, also thinking the same as the Umber lord, why did Ned Stark take such sudden interests.
"What about it?"
"The abandoned keep is to be repaired, I am to provide labours and guards for that."
"Indeed?" Jon Umber had a prominent scowl on his face.
"Aye," Maege nodded her head, implying they were thinking the same thing, "What do you reckon about all of these?"
Greatjon brushed his hand on his greying beard, "I don't know. It has also reached my ears that the Karstarks were asked to make a few smoking houses near their hunting woods, as well as scouting a favourable spot for a dock."
"Truly? Galbert was saying that Gregor Forrester was asked to erect a few sawmills. What is going on, Jon? What is it that Ned is planning?"
"That, dear lady, only Ned can answer." Jon Umber pointed towards the gate of Winterfell keep, which were being opened for their approaching parties.
[CotW]
Lord Umber and Lady Mormont were greeted by Lord Stark and his family. The visiting nobles asked about the missing, most prominent members of the Starks in recent times, namely – Jon Snow and Robb Stark. Both had seen with their own eyes how the boys – young men – carried themselves in the battle, their entire party, famously known as the Wolf Pack were just the stuff of legend. Lord Stark told them about how the King also came to know about their fame and personally invited them for a visit to the Capitol.
Retiring into the lord's solar, the two Northerners fixed their gazes on their liege lord expectantly.
Ned poured them both mugs of ale, "Might I assume that my recent missives to you are the reason for this visit."
"You got it right, Ned." Jon Umber raised his mug to Ned before draining it.
"Aye," Maege nodded her head, "I was indeed quite concerned about the venture you are planning."
Ned leaned back into his chair, "Very well, let us hear about your concerns."
Lord Umber and Lady Mormont looked at each other, deciding who to go first. Greatjon motioned her to go first.
Maege cleared her throat before delving into her concerns. She would be more than glad to provide help for the Lord of Winterfell, but the foremost problem was the fund. She needed to know who was going to provide for the wages and the rations and supplies for the men stationed at Sea Dragon Point. While it was true that theirs was the closest land to that abandoned castle, and they indeed had the manpower to provide for labours and guards, they did not have the coin for it. Lord Stark wanted the keep fixed, he could supply it with materials, but would he also provide for the men or it was to fall upon her house – she needed to be clear on that.
Likewise, Greatjon Umber raised his points. While not as underprivileged as House Mormont, they, by no means, were a rich house. They too could provide the men, and if the project took hold, it would be immensely helpful for them to protect their lands from the regular raiding of Wildling parties.
"You must understand, Ned," Maege had her gaze fixed on the table before her, "the repaired keep of the Point will be helpful for us, but how do I convince my people to leave behind their families without any source of food or income. They work as guards and as farmers, hunters, bakers – what have you. They perform their duties in rotation. I cannot ask them to abandon their livelihood for years without any promise of wages…" She trailed off.
"Aye, what she said." Greatjon poured himself another mug of ale.
"And what made the two of you think that I would ask you to drive our people into more hardships than they already encounter?"
Maege put her mug down, "Not to be disrespectful, My Lord, but you are a Stark, neither a Lannister nor a Tyrell."
"I am well aware of that fact, My Lady Mormont." Ned gave her a smirk.
"Then how do you propose we finance this venture? Did the King give you a grant or something?"
"In a way…" Ned was truly enjoying this.
"What are you trying to say, Ned?" Greatjon couldn't help his curiosity.
"I am surprised that the news hasn't reached your keeps yet. Although, given that the two of you have left your home the same time that the news reached the North, it is quite understandable."
By then, both the Umber Lord and the Lady of Mormont were looking at their liege lord as if he had lost his mind.
Savouring his words, Ned started to speak to his bannermen –
"As you are aware, a personal missive came from the Capitol, by the Hand of the King, Lord Arryn. He was asked to send the missive to me so that my sons - Robb and Jon were to visit Kings' Landing for the King's Tourney. The boys and their men, the Wolfpack, went to the Capitol. Among other things, they dug up beneath the rubbles of Dragonpit and unearthed a clutch of dragon eggs as well as a plot by the Mad King to burn the damn town with wildfire."
Ned stopped and took a gulp of his ale, "It appears that we were wrong about Ser Jaime Lannister. The man saved numerous lives that day by killing a mad dog who planned to turn everything to ash. Anyhow, the tourney commenced afterwards. All of the lads took part in it. But it was Jon who succeeded. He won the archery and jousting events and secured second place in the melee.
To tell you the truth, I was quite troubled to ask all of you my bannermen to take up the necessary projects for the betterment of the North. I know we are not of the wealth. I cannot ask you to do something that I myself am unable to do. I planned to do these, one by one and slowly when we can permit to take up the burden of excess expenses. But Jon – the beloved White Wolf, once again appeared as the man of the moment. He has sent his winnings to me so that I can put it to good use."
Maege and Jon Umber were listening to him intently. They exchanged glances before speaking up.
"Pardon my curiosity, Ned," Maege spoke, "but how much did he send back?"
"Sixteen thousand Gold Dragons. His winning purse from the joust and the second-place reward of the melee."
Jon Umber choked on his ale.
"Fucking Hell!"
[CotW]
Kurt woke up early as usual and got ready for the day. Ser Jon and Maester Wade had beat it into his head that a warrior should always wake up early in the morning so that they can perform their duties in a timely manner. He wrapped the thick fur cloak around his shivering body as he got out to the yard that Maester Wade had shown him as the practice ground for the men. Kurt slowly started to warm himself up for his daily training in the crisp, Northern morning air.
Soon, he was seen running on the walls, he was hesitant at first, but Maester Wade took him on the run to introduce him as the page of Ser Jon to the Stark Men. As a result, the men posted on the walls never said anything when they saw Kurt rushing past them. He was told by some of them when he came to a stop to catch his breath that Ser Jon used to do that too. For them, it was as if they were watching an event from the past once again. Kurt was very happy to learn that he was exactly following Ser Jon's footsteps. He was sure that he would definitely become a great warrior – just like Ser Jon.
In the days before, Kurt had followed Wade around the keep of Winterfell. But on that day, he was out on his own. As such, he ran into the backyard, a place he hadn't seen before. He came to an abrupt stop as his ears picked up the distinct sound of a bowstring's 'twang'. Slowly, he walked around a pile of sacks, barrels and haystacks to come face to face with the pretty lady he had seen earlier, the younger red-headed one, daughter of Lord Stark. The lady was alerted of his presence by his footsteps he reckoned because as soon as he came around the barrels, the lady had her arrow pointed straight at his face.
"Oh!" The lady exclaimed.
Kurt gulped in fear, he went crosseyed keeping the arrowhead within his vision. He had his hands up in surrender in an instant.
"I ain't doin' anythin'!" He shrieked.
"You are the lad who came with Wade, aren't you?" The lady lowered her bow, "What is your name again?"
"K-Kurt, M'lady! K-Kurtis Wagner!" His shiver now by no means caused by the Northern chill.
"Aye, Kurt. What are you doing sneaking about, Kurt? You are fortunate that I didn't shoot you when you poked your head out."
"I-I was runnin', M'lady. I always run in the mornin'. Ser Jon insisted. The other days, Maester Wade was with me, but I came out earlier today and went running on my own."
"Maester Wade?" She quirked an eyebrow.
"Aye, he teaches me my letters an' trains me in arms. Along with Ser Jon."
"Of course he does," The lady smirked, "Wade thinks he is the wisest of all."
"Aye, M'lady." Kurt nodded fervently.
"So, Kurtis Wagner, have you had your first lesson in archery yet?"
"O' course, M'lady. I even helped Maester Wade on our way here to fight off the bandits." His chest pumped up in pride.
"You did?" She scrutinized his stature, "Are you even able to hit your targets?"
"Er…" He scratched his head blushingly, "I practised every day before our journey and could land my shots near the bullseye at fifteen paces."
"Fifteen paces? That is quite impressive, Kurt. Did you use training bows?" He nodded again, "How about hunters' bow? Have you practised with it yet?"
"No, M'lady."
It appeared that his answer had pleased the lady because she had the widest smile on her face and beckoned him forward. Haltingly, he went near her.
"It is a good thing you came to this yard then. Here," She offered her bow to Kurt, "take this and show me what have you learned till now."
With trembling hands, Kurt received the bow and quiver. He tied the quiver on his waist as usual, which earned him another pleased hum from the lady. He stood with his feet apart and aimed at the target.
His arrow landed quite near the centre of the target. The lady looked at it with a frown on her face. She asked him to once again go into his shooting stance and circled him.
"Move your feet a little more and straighten your back. Keep your bow arm steady and pull the bowstring towards your ear…as far as you can."
Kurt followed through her instructions, he took a deep breath and held it for the command to shoot.
"Don't hold your breath, you need to keep your mind focused on your target. If you hold your breath in, half your mind will be focused on that. Keep breathing normally." Kurt huffed out and started to breathe as she told him.
"Good, do you have your eyes on the target?"
Kurt nodded.
"Keep breathing…forget everything else but the target. Relax your body but not your arms or back. It must feel natural to you. Don't worry, it will take practice. Now, when you think you have the target and nothing but the target in your sight…let it fly."
Kurt did so. He watched with amazement as his arrow flew true and landed into the very centre. He let out a loud whoop, joined by the excited clapping of the lady.
"Sansa!" A voice made them stop and turn around. Kurt saw the younger lady from before, the one near his age, was approaching them with a scowl fixed on her face.
"Good morning, Arya." The lady spoke from behind him.
"What is he doing here? What are you doing with him?"
"Arya." The lady, Sansa, as Kurt got to know her name, sighed.
"What?" The little lady scowled back.
"Kurt here has lost his way as he was practising his running. He stumbled upon in here as I was practising my archery lessons. Since neither you nor Cley arrived by then, I thought I would see how much I learned archery by giving Kurt a short lesson. After all, Maester Luwin always says that the best way of learning is to teach someone else."
Arya frowned and looked at Kurt.
"He is Jon's page, shouldn't he get his lessons from him?"
"He should, but if you have missed it, Jon is rather far at this moment." Lady Sansa explained patiently.
"Wade is here, he also teaches him." Lady Arya wasn't one to back down, Kurt noted.
"He woke up late this morning, M'lady, that's why I am out on me own." He mumbled.
"Don't call me a lady!" came the expectant shriek.
Helplessly, Kurt looked at the gentle lady who had taken the trouble to give him a short archery lesson.
"Do call me a lady." She said with a smirk and a glint in her eyes.
Confused, Kurt looked from one to the other. The little lady, Arya, moved to stand beside her sister, she also had a wicked smile on her face.
"As a lady, I ask you to call us properly." Lady Sansa spoke.
"As a lady, I ask you to not call me a lady." Lady Arya chimed.
"Umm…" was all Kurt could get out of his mouth.
"Yes?" Lady Sansa asked with an upturned brow, "Do you want to say something?" Lady Arya looked on eagerly.
"Uh…I think I can hear Maester Wade callin' for me…" Kurt stammered out as he hastily backtracked. He turned to walk away as quickly as he could when he heard that both sisters were laughing uproariously. Kurt scowled at the thought of them making fun of him. But he was also Ser Jon's pupil, and if anything he had learnt from the knight, was it that never admit defeat. He poked his head from around the barrels and saw the sisters were still laughing their heads off. He cleared his throat to catch their attention.
"I'll see you both later…M'ladies…"
He ran away from there as fast as his legs could carry him, but he still could hear the indignant scream –
"Don't call me a lady!"
Kurt had a big smile on his face when he reached the front yard where Maester Wade was waiting for him for their lessons.
[CotW]
Lady Maege Mormont was looking down at the yard as Stark men were conducting their daily training there when Lord Jon Umber ambled his way beside her on the balcony.
"Good morning, Maege."
"Good morning to you too, Jon."
"How was your sleep?"
"Quite well, thank you. How about yours?"
"Fitfully, if I am being honest."
"Oh?" Maege turned her head towards the giant of a man. The said man had his eyes trained on the men below with a scowl on his face. "What is on your mind, Jon?"
Greatjon Umber sighed and turned around to face his fellow Northerner, a woman as fierce as their sigil – a great hulking bear. She and her eldest daughters were called the she-bears or bear maidens of the Bear Island. Famous for their ferocity with arms as well as their wild, flirtatious natures.
"That was quite an information Ned lumped us with, don't you think?"
Maege scowled as she turned her head back towards the yard, "Aye, it is. A mere lad no older than five and ten name days, lording it over to seasoned warriors – quite unheard of if you ask me. I mean we have Barristan the Bold, famed for his balls as he took to the tilt when he was a wee lad of ten." She turned her gaze towards the Umber lord, "Arthur Dayne, made a name for himself quite young. Even the Lannister lad, Jaime. Then we have our stories of Dunk and Egg; and the Dragonknight. Each famed warrior, who had risen quite early in their lives. Southrons, the lot of them, but you can't deny that they had earned our respect too. Even the Kingslayer."
"Aye, even the Kingslayer. But he was not the Kingslayer as we were led to believe, was he? He was performing as his duties demanded, following his oaths which he took before his gods. And who cleared it all up? The same lad - Jon Snow, Ned's bastard." Greatjon chuckled ruefully.
"I saw the lad before he became this…this Northern legend, you know?" He sighed.
"Oh?" Maege, once again, had her eyes fixed towards the yard.
"Aye, him and the Karstark lads, they followed the trail of the Skagosi fuckers and came to my keep. I didn't take them seriously at first, humoured them, I did. Thought them playing warriors to impress their lord father. Or in the case of Snow, his foster father. Aye, I did hear how he fought against the invaders at Karhold, single-handed slew most of them. I was impressed. Gave him one of my precious axes as a gift."
Lord Umber turned to face Lady Mormont fully, "Only it wasn't a child's fantasy at all. The lad was true to his blood. When we heard that the Glovers were hunting after a similar party, the lad was the first to jump on his feet, ready to head them off. I sent my son with them, along with a small contingent of men. I thought, if nothing else, they would gain a little experience of leading men. The elder Karstark lads and my Jon was about the same age, I am quite sure that they realized that I was merely indulging them. But the youngest one and Snow took it on as a challenge.
When they returned with their captive and a group of women that they rescued, that was the first time I was shocked. The lad wasn't even fourteen then, yet, he forged ahead of the others and took down several of those Skagosi by himself before engaging their leader one on one, and what do you know, he came out a winner." Greatjon shook his head. "Mors was quite thrilled, you know, when he heard about those cunts' plan of abducting his daughter, he was quite grateful to the lad. Not to mention the lass herself was quite smitten with him, thinking him of her saviour and all."
"Aye, my Dacey was quite the same." Maege let out a small laugh, "You should have seen her and Alysane, always sniffing about the lad."
"Huh, 'Wolfblood' indeed." Greatjon laughed.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't tell me you haven't heard the rumours." He raised his eyebrows.
"What rumours?"
"That the lad isn't Ned's, but Brandon's pup?"
"But aren't those just that, rumours?" Maege frowned.
"Could be," He replied thoughtfully, "but on the other hand, it also could be the truth, you know, what with the lad's prowess with a sword. Not to mention how he rides. 'Half centaur'…just as Lady Lyanna was. He is more wolf than Ned's children. He went beyond the Wall and came back with two direwolves. The she-wolf even bared half a dozen pups, one for each Stark child, and the elder two have chosen the two elder Starks – Ned got the she-wolf and news has it that Benjen was left with a black beast, the size of a horse. And this Jon Snow, his pup was the most interesting one – white fur as the snow but with red eyes, like a Weirwood. Folks call it the blessing of the Old Gods. That along with the other rumour about them meeting the Children…"
"Hmm, quite…" Maege had a thoughtful look on her face, "Come, Jon. I think it is time to break our fast."
"Aye, I need to have my belly full before I head back on the road."
"A lost cause as any, Jon, for nothing can full that belly." Maege smirked at the Umber Lord.
He laughed in return.
[CotW]
Lady Maege Mormont sought out Lady Catelyn Stark before she went to her assigned chambers to prepare for their departure.
"Please, take a seat, My Lady, may I offer you some wine?" Catelyn Stark welcomed the visiting lady in her solar.
"Aye, please, My Lady." Maege welcomed the chance to get her thoughts sorted before they start their conversation.
Lady Stark offered her a goblet of wine and sat before with a goblet of her own.
"You wanted to speak with me, My Lady?" She gently prodded.
"Aye, I did. But now that I think on it, I wonder if I should speak of it or not…" Lady Mormont trailed off.
"Oh?" Lady Stark's curiosity was stroked. "You can speak to me, My Lady, I am sure it can't be that offensive." She assured her.
"It is about Jon Snow." Maege blurted out.
"Jon!?" Lady Stark frowned at that, "What about him?"
"Oh…er…" Maege fidgeted in her seat.
Catelyn gave her a smile, "First of all, let me ease your mind, My Lady, I am not at all offended that you wanted to speak to me about Jon. While it is not unknown that I was quite horrible towards the boy at first, it is also true that I started to feel his absence once he was away from this keep for his fosterage. I felt the emptiness that surrounded me for both his and Robb's absence. And once, when they came back, I truly didn't see any difference between the boys. While it is true that I didn't bore him and therefore, despised him for it, it was never his fault, was it? I cannot hold him responsible for something that was out of his control. Now, he is as dear to me as my own children."
"Oh! That is…nice…I reckon…" Maege hid her smirk behind her goblet – Could it be that she came to know about the lad's origin and started to care for the lad as an aunt should?
"In that case, My Lady, I want to propose a betrothal between our houses." Maege decided to speak plainly.
"Oh? You mean between Jon and your daughter?" Lady Stark almost choked in her wine.
"Aye, Dacey, my oldest, was quite taken with him when he stayed at the Island."
"Ah…" Lady Stark seemed lost for her words.
"Aye, and Alysane too, my second oldest. You should have seen the two of them and their scheming. Always fought against each other on who is to seat beside the lad or who is to dance with him."
"Ah...amusing, I am sure…" Lady Stark still couldn't find any suitable thing to say.
"If you are thinking about his station, then I would say you have nothing to worry about. He is of Stark blood, and that is that. It is enough for us. He could marry Dacey and become Lord Regent of Bear Island, or they could make something of their own if Ned decides to grant him some small keep elsewhere…" Maege spoke out loud while her mind was thinking – Lord of the Sea Dragon Point.
"Ah…yes, I am sure those are certainly acceptable terms, My Lady. But the thing is, Lord Stark is the one who decides on these matters. And above all, Jon was not here in the North right now. He and Robb plan to go and visit Essos after they were done in Old Town."
"Oh, I will talk with Ned," Maege waved her hand dismissively, "but we both know who it truly is to decide on their children's marriage, don't we?" She smiled at Lady Stark conspiratorially.
Lady Stark returned her smile which was more a grimace than a smile.
"And as for the lad not being present, I am not in hurry. Let him travel around and gain more experience. I just want to put forth my proposition for when he returns. When you finally sit down to discuss the lads' futures, do keep my proposition in your mind, won't you?"
Maege left a thoughtful Lady Catelyn in her solar as she sauntered towards her rooms, feeling very pleased with herself.
[CotW]
"Ned!" Catelyn burst into Ned's solar as soon as the visiting nobles departed.
"Cat!? What is the matter, love?" Ned jumped to his feet in alarm.
"She proposed a betrothal, Ned!" She was quite frantic.
"Ah…who…?" Ned was lost.
"Lady Mormont, do keep up, Ned." She huffed at him in annoyance.
"Oh." Ned sat down.
"Oh? That is all you are going to say? Oh?" Cat looked at him incredulously.
"What did she say to you exactly?" Ned leaned back in his seat.
"She was talking about how her eldest daughter…Dacey, I think her name is, was smitten by Jon."
"And…?"
"And she wants Jon to marry this daughter of hers. She said that she doesn't care even if he is your bastard. She said that Jon could become Lord Regent of Bear Island or if you grant them a small keep elsewhere, they could start their own house there."
"Hmm, and what did you say?"
"What could I say? She caught me completely unawares. All I managed to say was that Jon was not here in the North. That he and Robb planned to visit Essos and won't return for a long while. Furthermore, it is you who has the final say in situations such as this."
"And what did she reply to that?"
Cat scowled at the memory, "She told me that she is content to wait for the time being. And as for your decision, she insinuated that it is I who lead you to your decisions for our children's marriages and such."
"Well," Ned took one of her hands within his own, "She wasn't completely wrong in that now, was she? I certainly won't take a step without your consent in matters such as this."
"You are not aware of everything, Ned." She cried desperately as she freed her hands from his grasp and got up to pace around the room. "Wynafryd Manderly was talking with Sansa, about how desirable she finds our sons – both Robb and Jon. What is more, I caught from the snippets of their conversation that the girl's sister, Wylla, had sent her a letter stating the same. Both sisters are apparently corresponding with each other, and debating who is going to pursue whom."
Ned nodded thoughtfully, "Jon Umber also made some such insinuations, for his niece, Lord Mors' daughter."
Cat turned towards him with a triumphant look on her face, "Now you see why I was so agitated? They are but babes, Ned. The boys don't even have a semblance of idea what the world is about…and these…these women…" She spoke the word as if it was a vile thing to say, "these women want to have them married? I won't stand for it, Ned….and…and if she was here with us, she would have agreed with me about Jon…" She said vehemently.
Ned too got up from his seat. He went to his wife and enveloped her within his arms.
"Peace, love. Calm down. None is getting married."
"But…" She started to mumble in his chest.
"Hush, now. I promise you that none will come to take away your pups. They are secured. I won't even raise the topic of their betrothal, or marriage till they are of age. Besides, the boys are out there, seeing the world. What do you want to wager that we will be hearing more rumours that many Southern ladies have found themselves smitten by our lads? Or they themselves would beg to us for us to take measures so they can court the ladies who have caught their eyes?" He chuckled. Catelyn shook her head.
Ned brushed his fingers through her crimson hair, "If you are behaving in this way for Robb and Jon, I could only wonder what you will do when the time comes for Sansa…or Arya."
Cat whimpered pitifully.
*Line Break*
The Sea of Myrth, onboard a ship sailing towards Tyrosh
She stood by the ship's railings, eyes fixed upon the churning water below, watching intently as waves after waves broke against the ship's prow. Yet another home they were leaving behind, another place that would become a distant memory in a short while, she sighed.
Dany remembered their times on the roads, the fear that the men from Braavos were after them, fear that the usurper's dogs were waiting just around the corner with their blades to slit their throats. Constant battles with hunger, with thirst. The struggles to make the body move despite the weariness. Sleeping under the stars, sometimes, not at all.
Viserys was…Dany actually had not thought about how to understand her brother's behaviours. Sometimes, he would appear as the loving and caring brother, who doted upon her as any brother should. Then again, there were times when Dany couldn't even match the monster before her with the image of the loving brother who was present just mere moments ago. He would scream at her, he would threaten her. He would grab her hands and shake her, making her apologize to him for any and all transgressions, be they real or perceived by the very man.
Their time in Myr was surprisingly pleasant for a while. For once, Viserys didn't seek after the nobles of the Free City but decided to hide somewhere less prominent. Dany didn't know what brought this on, but Viserys had gone and rented a medium-sized mansion and hired people with their remaining fund. Dany never asked him how much Uncle Will had hidden, or what heirlooms they managed to bring with them from Westeros, besides their mother's crown. She didn't even dare to ask her brother, lest he got angry with her.
Viserys was absent most of the time from the mansion. When asked, he always evaded Dany's questions, stating that Dany would never understand the nuances of politics or the steps that Viserys took to ensure their return to the Seven Kingdoms. But it was evident with his wavering steps and clothes reeking of stale wine and faint perfumes that these supposed important meetings always took place in the whorehouses.
Dany was not a babe anymore. Far gone was the five name days old lass who would sit beside Uncle Will and badger him about stories of tourneys and fairs, of brave knights and beautiful ladies. At twelve, it all seemed distant dreams to the daughter of the dragons. She had heard that their mother, Queen Rhaella had proclaimed Viserys, the King. That made Dany the Princess of Dragonstone, being Viserys' heir. Viserys always demanded from people to address him by his proper title – the King. But to be honest with herself, Dany never felt like a Princess. On days, she didn't even think of herself as a noble lady. Because she wanted to go out of the boundaries of their home, out in the crowd, among the merchants and people who thronged the marketplace. She wanted to browse through the wares on display. She wanted to taste the delicacies on offer.
She wanted to be free.
One day, Viserys hurried back at the mansion and made the staff jump to work on a lavish feast. To her questions, Viserys gave her a smirk and only said that he had finally managed to secure allies, a chance for them to go back to their home and avenge their family.
She was well aware of Viserys' schemes by then, so she had made herself scarce, but kept a watchful eye on the happenings from behind the covers of the doors. She didn't want to appear before these 'allies' of Viserys. One of the servants – a former slave from Qohor, took pity on the orphan girl and taught her how a noble lady should carry herself. Her being a slave and serving noble ladies before she earned her freedom had made her a veritable font of such knowledge. She had instructed her on how to cover herself properly now that she was on the cusp of womanhood. She made her understand the gaze men gave her, taught her to understand the lust in their eyes. The lust that she had seen even in her brother's eyes when he returned home too drunk to even sit up straight. But he always said that she was to become his bride once she came of age. Dany didn't argue back even as she wanted to. She just removed herself from his presence.
Dany had watched as the men her brother invited to their home, came inside and sat imperiously, taking in the décor of their spars home. She could feel the disdain in their eyes at seeing their quaint home. They did walk around with a king's ransom on their very self, what with the glimmering gold armbands that covered from their wrists to almost the entirety of their forearms.
The man who appeared to be the leader of that group of men was a man called Gorys Edoryen. By their talks, he was the Paymaster of the Golden Company, a sellsword company primarily comprised of exiled nobles and knights of the Seven Kingdoms. It was said that Aegon Rivers or Aegon Bittersteel first formed the company to aid the Blackfyres. Along the way, they had earned a fierce reputation and goodwill around the free cities. After the last Blackfyre rebellion, that would be the War of the Ninepenny Kings, and after the death of Maelys the Monstrous, the Golden Company washed their hands off the notion of rebelling against Westeros.
Edoryen and his men partook in the festivities that Viserys had arranged for them with fervour. Wine flowed such as fountains. Dany kept a mental tally of the amount of food those five men inhaled, and by her calculation, she and Viserys could have spent half a year in relative luxury on the expenses of that one single evening alone. She wanted to lash out at them, or her brother, but she couldn't. She didn't feel that she was strong enough to do that.
By the end of the evening, the cadaverous man, Gorys Edoryen, had finally stopped stuffing his face with food and leaned into his seat with a goblet of summer wine. He started to ask Viserys what he planned to do, which kingdom, in his opinion, would aid their forces if they were to make their stand there. For all his bravado, Viserys never gave it any thought. He was one of those people who would order someone to do something and expected to have his orders carried out to the letter. All his boastings, all of his claims that people were eagerly waiting for the dragons to return – were shot apart by the man's very precise questions. The eventual shot that brought the high flying dragon down was when Edoryen asked him how he planned to pay the Company. Viserys tried to evade that by giving some vague platitudes, but the man was relentless. He made him tell that Dany's brother didn't even have a working financial strategy.
The entire group of men had burst out laughing. Edoryen, with his black pointed beard and bloodred, curled hair smiled viciously and told Viserys to 'fuck off'. He pointed at each one of them, to their garbs, their ornaments, and above all, the golden armbands that they each wore. He said that there was a saying about the Golden Company – Our word is gold. He asked Viserys why should they denounce their current contract with the city of Myr in order to sail with – in so many words which the repulsive man had taken pleasure in uttering – 'the beggar king' without any assurance whatsoever. The men hollered with laughter seeing Viserys trying to stammer out his reply.
The night was what Dany called in her mind the end of their peaceful life once more. Soon afterwards, Viserys became increasingly more vicious towards her and the few staff Dany had managed to keep at the mansion by begging and pleading. Once again, the servants revolted and chased them off of what was perceivably their own home.
Dany sighed and closed her eyes, the spray of seawater in the mild ray of the sun in the morning was very pleasing against her skin. She had to say goodbye to yet another home, to yet another small library – which she had scrounged after to create by her meagre fund, she was not happy. Dany tried to imagine what would her Uncle Will have said to her in this situation, but with time, Dany found that she was starting to forget the man's features. She never knew her own parents, Ser Willem Darry was what she always imagined a father should be. She was saddened that she was slowly forgetting the man who was, for all intents and purposes, her father.
"Enjoying the view, are we, sweet sister?"
Dany suppressed a sigh and turned to give Viserys a wan smile, "Good morning, brother dear."
Viserys nodded and came to stand beside her by the railings.
"What are you thinking?"
Dany looked up at his face with shock, he never asked me what I am thinking before…
"Do you truly want to know?" Hope was evident in her voice.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know, would I?" Viserys sneered.
"Well…" She didn't know what she should say, so she started to say whatever came to her mind first, "I was thinking what if we somehow buy a ship and become merchants. We could travel from port to port, with winds in our sails and hair. We could travel the known world, meet new people and get to know their languages, cultures and what not. We don't have to worry about the usurper and his men once they come to know that we have taken up sailing as our livelihood. We could spend what little we have now and secure a good enough ship with cargo and crew to -"
Dany was cut off by a sudden pain erupting in her head. Viserys had grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked so that she was facing upwards, looking at his enraged, purple face.
"You stupid cunt!" Viserys hissed at her through clenched teeth, "You would have us, have me wander about as a merchant? Me? I am Viserys Targaryen III, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. The true king to the Iron Throne. I am the last of the dragons. And you would have me roam about as a pauper?" He shoved her down.
Dany let out a low yelp as she crashed onto the deck. Her eyes were wide with fear, she had not expected her brother's mood to change so suddenly.
"Listen to me, you fucking whore, and listen well. You belong to me. Your body belongs to me. I would sell you over and over if your cunt fetches me the horses and men to take my throne back. You are nothing more than means to my goal, do you understand? I will not hesitate to cut you down if you spew your garbage once more. You have only one thing to do, and that is, be quiet and be pretty. If you are not to be my wife, you will become someone else's whore who would be useful to me. I don't care what you do after you have served your purpose. But till then," He loomed nearer, "You. Belong. To. Me."
Viserys straightened up and spat at her, "Don't wake the dragon, sweet sister." before storming away.
Dany laid there for a while, the shock of her brother's sudden attack had jarred her to her core. Slowly, she got up to her feet and steadied herself by grabbing onto the railings. She could almost hear the snickers of the sailors who had been watching their interaction. Tears flowed from her eyes and her cheeks burned red, but she didn't turn her head from the sea.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew over her and gave her the chill. She could swear that she heard a distant roar of a huge, unknown beast. And with that…a howl? It was gone even before she could be sure. But it did leave a susurration that sounded to her as the words of her slowly fading past –
Be strong, Daenerys Stormborn!
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
La_Monserga
La_Monserga This chapter is a tribute to all the women in my life. You women are the force that makes me move forward...that makes any mere male move forward. You in your personas as mothers, sisters, daughters, friends, significant others and many more, give us the strength that we need to even get out of bed on some days. Basically, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't even be alive past our 12th birthday. Yes, we are that idiot.
Be as wonderful as you are (in your unique loving, irritating, frustrating, annoying, adoring and so many more adjectived ways) and keep rocking always.
Cheers!
Do visit my Pat-reaon page, the link is: [pat...reon].com[slash] lamonserga. My HP fic and the MCU/HP crossover fic are going to be published there at first.
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