Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Ned Stark;

Torrhen's Square.

Year 289, 24th day, of the third moon. About a week before the citadel's white ravens were dispatched.

Ned Stark had just entered Torrhen Hall.

He had left Winterfell five days earlier with his armed escort of 100 men. He had announced his visit to Lord Helman in advance, only he estimated that he would not arrive for a week.

He was two days early...

Ned Stark was still unused to the new speed of travel in his lands. The roads worked perfectly.

Every two hours of travel, he and his men had stopped at one of the rest stops located every ten miles throughout the Winter Road Network.

That was why he had been waiting patiently for Lord Helman in his study for about half an hour. His poor bishop was unprepared to receive him so soon.

About three minutes later...

"Lord Stark, I beg your pardon for the wait. I am truly mortified. The fault is mine alone, I did not organize properly." Said Lord Helman making a formal bow to his lord.

"Please my lord. This is your abode and I am only a guest. The fault is mine for miscalculating the timing.

I am still bewildered, two years ago moving this far in the middle of winter took two weeks at least. So it's all House Stark's fault, My Lord.

It is I who beg your pardon." Lord Stark replied, standing up and making a gesture of apology.

About ten minutes later of formal chatter...

"So my Lord, may I ask why you went to such lengths instead of summoning me to Winterfell? I assure you there was no need to bother so much my Lord. What can my House do for you, my lord?" Helman asked, placing a cap on the desk.

"Lord Helman, as you well know Winter is almost past.

In the last month, I have received reports from all the Northern Lords and I have compared them with Maester Luwin and all the other reports, from the last hundred years, filed in Winterfell...

The North has never been able to remain so stable and strong, not after facing the darkest and most suffering period our people are forced to face.

There have never been so few bandit attacks, the number of casualties is less than a tenth of what it was last winter... and most importantly, the number of registered births has never been so high...

The people of the North are safe, warm, and well-fed...

All this, my lord, is thanks to House Tallhart." Explained Ned in a sincere tone full of gratitude.

"My lord, I assure you, it is not all credit..." Helman was interrupted with a wave of Lord Stark's hand.

"Please, my lord.

This is no time for misplaced claims of humility.

Credit to your House is due.

I have come here today to officially propose that you unite and bind our two Houses with a deeper bond, Lord Helman.

I would like to propose marriage...

A marriage between my first daughter Sansa and your heir Duncan. I wish for our two Houses to be linked in blood and that one day when the time comes, we may share in the joy of a grandchild together.

A Granson or Grandaughter who will carry Tallhart blood and Stark blood in his veins, my lord." Eddard.

"My lord...I am speechless...I do not know...

I don't mean to question your decision at all, my lord...it's just that...

I can't help but ask my lord, does Lady Catelyn agree? I would not like to well..." Lord Helman was in an unexpected situation.

He knew his son was a much sought-after party in both the North and the South, but in all honesty, he had dismissed the possibility of a union with one of Lady Catelyn's daughters.

He knew first-hand the bond that existed between his daughter Eddara and his wife Myra.

Thank the gods his son Duncan had simply managed to strike a courtship deal with House Lannister.

If he had promised to marry off his only daughter, only five years old at the time, he was not so sure that his Myra would never try to poison him or make him unfit to rule in any way...

And now, Lord Stark himself had come so far as to enter into a marriage agreement with his daughter Sansa, who was not yet three years old and whose mother was a woman who hated his son Duncan.

"I know what you are thinking, my lord.

I admit that my Lady wife was...' hard' to convince, but now even she agrees...

We want to forge this bond also to bury under layers of ice all disagreements between our House and yours my lord. You and your son will have nothing to fear." Eddard replied in a confident and slightly embarrassed tone.

"My Lord...here I am...

I absolutely will not turn down the chance to unite our two Houses..." Helman.

"But? Do not be afraid to offend me, my lord.

I value sincerity and clarity above all other gentle, polite lies." Ned.

Helman braced himself and spoke with sincerity.

"My lord, since he was five years old, my son Duncan has only ever requested one thing as a birthday present.

Every year he refuses to ask for or accept any gift from any member of the Tallhart family.

He has requested and still requests only one great gift, namely:

[The possibility of being able to be united in marriage with a woman of his choice.

Whoever she may be: Noble or lowborn, rich or poor, Westeros or foreign.]

Neither his mother nor I can interfere with Duncan's choice, My Lord.

That's not to say the possibility doesn't exist, Lord Stark...it's just..." Ned continued for him:

"You cannot guarantee a promise of marriage to anyone...

I understand my Lord.

I must admit..." This time it was Ned who was interrupted, but not by Helman. The sound of a door opening and rapid footsteps accompanied by jingling chains stopped Lord Stark's words.

Helman was surprised by Maester Qyburn's sudden entrance, and for a moment he wanted to reprimand the man who had entered without knocking and even interrupted Lord Stark's words, but reason and instinct stopped him.

"My Lord, Lord Stark, I am sorry to interrupt but there is urgent news that cannot be delayed in any way," Qyburn said politely but quickly expressing urgency in his voice.

"A message concerning the Iron Islands and your son, my lord," Qyburn concluded, handing a piece of paper to the Lord of Torrhen's Square.

Helman sprang to his feet and scrutinized the message.

The man's face paled visibly and he began to crumple the piece of paper, almost tearing it.

Lord Stark couldn't stop himself from asking:

"Lord Helman, what is going on?

Can I be of any assistance?" The protector of the North asked instinctively.

Helman ignored Lord Stark's words only for a moment and immediately asked Qyburn:

"How soon will they arrive? How many ships?"

"I have already sent word to your son and brother, my lord. In less than four days they will land on Bear Island...at least a hundred ships." Qyburn.

Ned Stark connected the dots himself and he too paled and grew visibly worse.

At least a hundred Iron Fleet ships were about to attack Bear Island...

End POV.

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POV: Leobald Tallhart;

Waterdeep, the new port town in Sea Dragon Point.

About half a day after Torrhen's Square was warned...

Leobald was sitting opposite his friend and rival Gerion Lannister, younger brother of Lord Tywin Lannister.

Every three months, Gerion would come to Waterdeep, the newly founded city of about 50,000 inhabitants, to personally conduct trade negotiations with local merchants and collect payments owed to House Lannister for the two million loans. In addition to this, Gerion was also to purchase the new ships promised by House Tallhart, namely: 2 Galleys, 4 Caracas, and 5 merchant ships for the first 3 years.

The three years had passed, and now Gerion, in addition to further tightening ties with House Tallhart, had also come to collect the first batch of ships of the year. Twice as many as the previous three years, as agreed.

"Come on Leobald, lower that price...

In the name of all that wine I've offered you over our long, deep years of friendship." Said Gerion finishing the wine cup and smiling cheekily with eyes that expressed the word [ Cleverness ].

"No way.

A friend here and friend there when it suits you.

You're more taxing than our family accountant...and he studied in Braavos." Replied Leobald not flinching an inch.

"AHAHAHAAHAH!!! I remember him! What's his name? Roland?" The Lion smiled.

"Ronan. Ahah." Leobald.

"Right! Ronan. By the seven hells Leobald...

What the hell did they teach him in that Bank?! I've never had a worse headache than when I finished arguing with that numbers guy. Ahahahahah" Gerion.

"Back to business, you devious layabout. As you can see, I have three towers of cards to fill out before sundown.

So, in two days the 4 Galleys, 8 Caracas, and 10 merchant ships will be completed.

The price is and will remain respectively: 5,000 g.d. per galley, 2,000 per carrack, and 900 per merchant. I have already deducted the sum from the total remaining debt... now that leaves...

1,231,750 golden dragons to be repaid. Is this correct?

What do you prefer as an installment this quarter?

Gold or merchandise?" Leobald.

"Correct...

We prefer white salt, Whisky, dried fruit, Karstark leather, soap, and paper. Both writing paper and toilet paper.

I must say, Leobald, that I expected a little more from you...

You wound me deeply my friend.

My birthday is coming up and..." Leobald nearly stood up to throttle the shameless man in front of him.

"Don't you dare talk about birthdays!!!

I'm still fighting with Berena over those five hookers you so kindly sent me three months ago!!!!" Leobald.

"I tell you again, 'THAT SPACIOUS EXQUIVOUS'...was just a minor misunderstanding with my nephew Tyrion...

I had asked him for help...

And by the way, they were not simple 'prostitutes', but elegant young professionals in their trade from all over the world...

PHUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!

Phuaf...hihihi...ahahaha....fiuu...oh seven heavens, I cannot breathe...

Please remind me! How long did Berena force you to sleep in another bed?! Pfff..." Gerion could barely contain himself as he asked.

"Thirty-six nights!!! You and 'Tyrion', will learn first hand that a man of the North [Will Never Forget!] " Leobald replied almost shouting.

"Well...at least you had a way to warm up that freezing bed, right?

PHUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!

I can't wait Leobald!

Show us what you're capable of! Ahahahahahaha!" The Smiling Lion.

About 10 minutes later, the two men representing their respective houses resumed discussing business...

"So...

Have you found a suitable admiral for the job?

Or will those galleys and Caracas still be led by an inexperienced man named Leobald Tallhart?" Gerion asked with a mischievous smirk.

"It seems that at least this information, you have managed to get.

Why don't you simply tell your brother to spare those poor souls, whom you call 'spies', from an inevitable permanent and dark fate?" Leobald replied in reply.

Before Gerion could answer, a man-at-arms rushed into the office.

"Lord General! An urgent message from Maester Qyburn!" Said a Frost Blades disguised as a common soldier.

Leobald sprang to his feet, knowing that Blade 10 would never have committed such an act if there wasn't a real urgency.

About twenty seconds later...

"Recall the fleet as soon as possible!

Every ship you can reach!

Assemble the second Legion!

Contact House Glover, House Ryswell and House Dustin, we'll need their support!

I will write the message to House Mormont myself!

AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I WANT AT LEAST SIXTY SHIPS READY TO LEAVE WITHIN TWO DAYS AT THE MOST!" Leobald thundered, not caring about Gerion's presence just a few steps away.

The Smiling Lion's smile had flashed and was now expressing solidarity with his friend.

"Yes, Lord General!" Blade 10 walked out without bowing or asking permission.

Gerion remained silent, seeking Leobald's gaze...

Leobald after a few seconds answered Gerion's silent question.

"The Iron Fleet...

More than 100 ships are about to attack Bear Island.

My nephew Duncan is on that island..." Leobald.

Gerion assimilated that information carefully.

Then he said:

"You don't have an admiral capable of beating the Iron Fleet...

Let me give you that 'birthday present' now." Leobald looked at Gerion seriously, seeking confirmation of what he guessed he wanted to offer him.

"I will help you save your nephew.

Put me in command of those sixty ships.

I'll be your Fleet Admiral."

End POV.

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POV: Duncan;

Bear Island.

About three days before a 'Smiling Lion' took command of the Tallhart fleet...

There I was standing in front of that girl, staring at me with hatred and confusion...

My body was exploding...

I felt my skin boiling, the damp and cold air couldn't even hinder those hot flashes.

My eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the figure in front of me. A figure that about four years ago I remembered as being completely different...

I remembered her to be a foot shorter, with short hair cut badly, flat breasts, and a face that at first glance could not be identified as 'feminine'... but now...

The figure in front of me was completely different...

Almost as tall as me, long straight wild black hair, delicate face adorned with honey-amber eyes that emanated an impressive fighting spirit, slightly pronounced breasts, arms, and legs accentuated by well-proportioned muscles and perfect curves...

It was as if Arwen from Lord of the Rings and Lagherta from Vikings had learned the [Fusion] technique from Dragon Ball and joined forces to create a more perfect being.

When I was in Dorne, Arianne Martell, and Tyene Sand, would intentionally provoke me....

Unsolicited or justified touching and caressing, hugging and whispering near the ear...

I had to admit that even I wasn't completely immune to it. My adolescent puberty + my more than one hundred years (as far as I could estimate) of absolute virginity or contact with the female gender, were more than the discreet combo.

Now to these two enemies not to be underestimated, was added the Boss of the end of the campaign.

This formidable foe, who made me shudder like a seven-year-old who had snuck into a movie theatre showing the film [IT], I could only identify as [Werewolf imprinting] or more commonly known as [Devastating crush on a Goddess come down to earth]...

She was gravity, she was attraction...she was everything I could wish for at that moment.

In front of that statue of ivory and black pearl, all the gold in the world was worth less than an old, faded, rusty copper coin. It had to be her.

[She was to be mine and I was to be hers.]

It was a law, a dogma, a mantra, a creed...

Nothing made sense at that moment.

Then a voice...a voice I hadn't heard since I was five years old, a voice of an old me, who had severely reprimanded me after sixty men baptized me with the nickname ' Bloody Snow ', awakened me from my dumbstruck state.

[GET A GRIP DUNCAN!!! READY???!! here is Matthew from earth!!! THE GODDESS IS TALKING TO YOU!!! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD YOU MORON, ANSWER THE GODDESS!!!] I awoke from my numbness and made sense of that other angelic voice covering the first.

"Lord Duncan...it is a pleasure to see you again after all these years, I, Dacey Mormont, cousin of Lord Jorah Mormont, welcome you to Bear Island." Said the angelic voice.

[NEXT! ANSWER! Repeat after me:

'Lady Mormont, thank you for your warm and loving welcome.

it's a pleasure to see you again after these long four years.'] Assistant Matthew.

" La...La##...L#dy Da*ey...*ha...Tha#k.." Says the retarded fool (me).

[Oh Jesus Christ...what a pitiful start...] Assistant Matthew.

"Forgive me, 'my lord'...I can't understand you. Could you please speak louder?!" The Valkyrie daughter of Freya and Odin asked.

[COME ON DUNCAN GET UP! Nothing unrecoverable has happened! We can still make it! Bring out that adamantine will you're so proud of!!! Come on!] Assistant Matthew.

" Foff#...Forg..." stammered the retard (me).

[ Foff#....Forg...FUCK YOU DUNCAN!!!

BREATHE! USE THAT DAMN BREATHING TECHNIQUE AND GET CONTROL OF YOUR TONGUE BACK!!!] Assistant Matthew.

I took a deep breath activating everything that could be activated at that moment, and then, without any voice control, shouted:

"FORGIVE ME, MY LADY! THANK YOU!

THANK YOU LADY MORMONT FOR YOUR WELCOME!" The scream sounded like a mixture of a dying nightingale in agony and the last cry of a Spartan shouting before jumping into the fray...

[That's enough...

You will stay a virgin and die a virgin. I cannot watch one more second of this pathetic agony.

Goodbye Duncan] The voice of android assistant Matthew had disappeared...

'BASTARD!!!

You leave me alone in the trenches again! I am you filthy son of our mother!' I thought instinctively showing visibly hatred and resentment.

Unfortunately...

That was a bad combination of events.

"Lord Duncan...

Why are you shouting at me like that?!

And what's that look of defiance?

I would remind you that you have not yet received bread and salt, my lord." Said the figure in front of me, who I only now noticed was level [5].

'Fuck! Are you kidding me!?

Twelve years old and you're already at Level [5]?!' I thought as Dacey walked up in front of me clenching her fists.

"My lady! Please stop! I had no intention..." I was interrupted.

"I am well aware of your intentions, my lord. I have seen that look countless times.

A Mormont does not back down." Dacey continued to advance while I retreated.

I couldn't think of anything to stop this madness...

until I said the words that put the final nail in the coffin...

"Lady Mormont, do you remember the gift I gave you for your birthday? In the book [ The Shield Maiden] there is a similar scene..." The fire flared up after pouring that bucket of gasoline into the flames.

"So you did it to buy me...

You gave me those books for a purpose.

You thought those books could save you from the beating you have always avoided..."