Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Gellert;

Bear Island.

One day before thousands of raiders invaded the island...

Gellert, the youngest Divisional Commander of the strongest, most prepared, craziest, weirdest, and most highly paid unit in the entire North, was helping to prepare the battlefield for the upcoming battle.

The ships that had sailed two days earlier from the island, carrying over a thousand Mormont women, old men, and children, must have docked at Waterdeep Pier by now.

Gellert could not stop thinking about his family.

Less than a year ago, his father had sold his farm, and together with his mother and his little brother, they had moved to the new northern city.

His brother Robin, thanks to numerous treatments by healers, including Ser Qyburn himself, was able to live a normal life.

He excelled in his studies and managed to win a fund offered by Tallhart House, which guaranteed a subsidy for his entire family until Robin came of age.

Thanks to that fund and two-thirds of Gellert's salary, his family was living in conditions they would never have believed possible a few years ago.

Gellert was currently digging holes with a ten-year-old boy in the service of House Mormont. In between digging holes, the Winter Guardians Commander observed the thousands of people who were helping in one way or another to defend the island.

People digging, people pinning wooden logs, some transporting goods, others preparing bags full of silver and gold...

"Commander Gellert?! Commander?" The boy asked, waking Gellert from his thoughts.

"Yes, boy?" Gellert.

"Do you think we can win this battle?" The boy.

"Will you do your part?

Will you help defend the island?

Will you protect the women and children in the caves?" Gellert.

"Yes, of course, I will!" The boy in the service of the Mormonts replied.

"Then the Ironborn won't stand a chance," Gellert said, smiling at the boy.

The boy answered the smile with his own.

"Commander Gellert! I can fight! My father taught me how to use a sword. I..."

"You with your swordsmanship will defend the cave," Gellert answered, cutting it short.

"But!... Many say we don't have enough warriors!

That these caves could be our graves!

They say that if the defensive line falls, we will all be dead or become salt slaves...

I don't want my little sister or my mother to become slaves!" Roared the boy with conviction.

Hearing those words, Gellert couldn't help but think back to that moment two days ago.

Two days before...

The Division Commander, along with his 349 subordinates and comrades, had lined up in five neat rows waiting for their General to speak.

General Duncan Tallhart, showed them all a piece of paper and said:

"This is a message, from the Supreme General.

A message from my father, Ser Helman Tallhart.

The General commands us to withdraw from the island." The Winter Guardians did not blink or flinch at the words.

"Within three days, five thousand marauders from the Iron Islands will attack this Island.

The seat of House Mormont is a house that for centuries suffered abuse and violence at the hands of the Ironborn...

No help has ever been able to arrive in time for the swift and targeted attacks of these pirates.

The people of this island have no way of resisting such an attack.

I want to inform you, that I am probably to blame for this attack.

Our comrades in the Frost Blades unit have uncovered information that leads me to the conclusion that Lord Balon Greyjoy, ordered the attack on the island, with the main purpose of capturing or killing me." A few glances turned towards the General, but none moved their heads or reacted in any other way.

"Therefore...

Since I am the cause of this threat that could destroy one of the oldest and noblest Houses in the North forever, I will disobey the order of my commanding superior.

None of you, I repeat, NONE OF YOU, are forced to follow my decision.

However it goes, for anyone who chooses to follow me, almost certain disciplinary punishment awaits. Even a dishonorable discharge or death by treason should I perish.

DID YOU ALL HEAR THAT?" Thundered the general.

"YES, GENERAL!" 350 soldiers roared in reply.

"Anyone who wishes to leave and join the forces of my Uncle, General Leobald, is free to do so.

No personal grudge or punishment of any kind will come upon the man who chooses to follow General Helman's orders...

Whoever wants to leave, now is the time, step forward please." Not a leaf moved...

Bloody Snow waited in silence for a minute, then smiled slightly and said under his breath:

"...Crazy bastards...all of you." Then he continued shouting:

"WE ARE ABOUT TO FACE 5,000 FANATICAL WARRIORS OF THE ABYSSAL GOD THAT. ARE YOU AWARE OF THIS?"

"YES, GENERAL!" The 350 men.

"AND DO YOU KNOW THAT WE MAY ALL DIE?" The General.

"YES, GENERAL!" The 350 soldiers.

"DO YOU WANT TO DIE?" The General.

"NO, GENERAL!"The 350 soldiers.

"ARE YOU AFRAID?" The General.

"NO, GENERAL!" The 350 soldiers.

"Good for you men...

I'm shitting myself with fear."

Some couldn't hold back giggles after Bloody Snow's unexpected statement.

"You all know, that your General just got his ass kicked by a twelve-year-old girl right?" Bloody Snow.

"YES, GENERAL!" The laughter deepened slightly after the answer.

"And yet you will still choose to follow me?" Bloody Snow.

"YES, GENERAL!" The 350 soldiers.

"FUCK YOUR GENERAL!...

MY COMRADES, WILL YOU HELP ME PROTECT THE PEOPLE OF THIS ISLAND?" Bloody Snow.

"YES!!!" 350 comrades answered.

"MY BROTHERS, WILL YOU FIGHT BY MY SIDE UNTIL THE END?" Bloody Snow.

"TO THE END!", The 350 brothers.

"FOR WHOM DO WE FIGHT?" Bloody Snow.

"FOR THE NORTH!!," The 350 Northmen.

"WHOM SHALL WE DEFEND?" Bloody Snow.

"THE PEOPLE OF THE NORTH!!" The 350 defenders of the people!

"WHEN?" Bloody Snow.

"NOW AND FOREVER!!!" The 350 honorable men.

"AND WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?" Bloody Snow.

"BECAUSE IT'S WHAT WE WANT!!! BECAUSE OF WHO WE ARE!!!" The 350 men with a purpose.

"AND WHO ARE WE?" Bloody Snow.

"WINTER GUARDIANS!!!" The 350 men with an identity.

"WHEN WILL THE WINTER GUARDIANS INTERVENE?" Bloody Snow.

"WHEN THE PEOPLE OF THE NORTH NEED HELP!" The 350 winter guardians...

"WINTER GUARDIANS, THE IRONBORN WILL COME TO BRING SUFFERING AND PAIN TO THE PEOPLE OF THE NORTH! OUR PEOPLE!

WILL WE ALLOW THOSE PIRATES TO KILL OUR PEOPLE?" Bloody Snow.

"NO!" The 350 Winter Guardians.

"WILL WE ALLOW THEM TO R*** OUR WOMEN?" Bloody Snow.

"NOO!!!" The 350 Winter Guardians answered with more vigor.

"AND ALLOW HIM TO EVEN TOUCH A NORTHERN CHILD?!" Bloody Snow.

"NOOOO!!!" Roared in response with every effort possible the 350 Northern heroes.

The boy moved a few steps closer towards the front line.

He remained silent, staring at as many of them as he could until he said:

"Well, you crazy Paladins of the North.

You have convinced me.

I will grant you the privilege of following the craziest, the most reckless 11-year-old in the North.

Always remember that my pockets are nearly empty...

Therefore,

DON'T YOU DARE DIE!

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH A MARBLE STATUE COSTS!

I DON'T WANT TO BUILD A MONUMENT FOR ANY OF YOU!

DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" Bloody Snow finally asked.

"YES, GENERAL!" All 350 life companions roared the reply with a smile on their faces.

Gellert awoke from that flashback...

"Commander? Commander?! Can you hear me?" The boy asked with concern.

"Yes boy, I can hear you...

By the way, what's your name?" Gellert asked curiously still keeping a small smile on his lips.

"My name Ser?...

My name is Robin, Commander Gellert.

Robin son of Rubben." As soon as Gellert heard, that name, he stopped the shovel letting it fall to the ground.

"Forgive me, Robin, son of Rubben, if I did not pay you the proper attention earlier...

Could you repeat the questions you asked me a few moments ago?" Gellert asked the boy, who was a similar age and had the same name as his younger brother.

"Yes, Commander...

Do you think... do you think we will be able to resist, Ser?

Will I be able to save my little sister and my mother from the Ironborn?

Will the defensive line hold?" Robin asked in a frightened and unsure tone.

"Yes, Robin.

The defensive line will hold.

And no ironborn will lay a finger on you, your sister, or your mother.

That's a promise, Robin." Gellert said, staring into the boy's eyes and expressing all the sincerity and confidence he could muster in his tone of voice.

The frightened boy, who was beginning to lose hope, smiled again.

End POV.

--------------------------------------------

POV: Jorah Mormont;

Barrowhall.

About half a day after ravens departed from Torrhen Square...

This was the twenty-third morning in a row that Jorah woke up in the same bed.

A bed lined with scented silk sheets, with goose-down pillows and superb furs, warming his naked body from the cold morning air.

But none of these luxurious comforts could compare in the slightest to the jewel in human form that lay beside him.

A smooth, soft, warm jewel.

The female being who had given the man the twenty-two best days of his life was still sleeping in his arms.

Days full of love, passion, fun, and smiles.

His head was still resting on her chest. The man felt a slight damp sensation on the area close to the perfect creature's lips. The woman exhaled involuntarily through her mouth, her breath condensing on his skin.

He prepared to wake the sweet, helpless creature in the same way...

He stroked her long, silky hair gently, trying to brush the hairline with the fingertips of his fingers...

Jorah continued to repeat those movements for more than a minute before Lady Barbrey Dustin showed signs of gentle awakening.

He felt her smooth legs and feet, rubbing with more intensity.

As the woman clutched the naked man's body in her arms with more vigor, Jorah said:

"Good morning, my Lady..." He kissed the woman gently on the forehead.

"Mmmm...good morning, my Lord...

I'm cold...please don't get up.

Do that finger magic again..." Replied a still slightly dazed and confused woman.

"I am at your command, mighty and feared Lady of Barrowton..." Jorah prepared to stroke Lady Barbrey's bareback with his fingertips.

When he reached the nape of her neck, he stopped to fiddle with the platinum chain that held Valyria's steel pendant. Since that magical first night, Lady Barbrey had never taken off her token of love...

After a few minutes of cuddling and tender kisses, a clang at the door of the room abruptly interrupted the magic.

A seventeen-year-old girl entered without even knocking and walked briskly towards her lady.

"TYSHA! BUT WHAT..." The furious Lady's roar was interrupted as soon as she noticed the missive the girl held out in front of her.

Jorah knew the girl; she was the trusted handmaiden of his lady, Tysha. About a week ago, Barbrey told him the story of the poor girl, who answered directly to her and her alone. Only about ten people in all of Barrowton knew her real name. To everyone else, she was Wylla Snow, a bastard cousin of Lady Barbrey.

Jorah had come to know his bride-to-be.

Lady Barbrey Dustin, was sweet, friendly, and understanding to all. This was her first armor.

An armor that hid the true 'Widow of Barrowton' in disguise...

Jorah was convinced that if anyone else in Lady Dustin's service dared to do the dastardly deed that Tysha had just done, they would be torn apart by four horses tied to every limb of the poor unfortunate...

Only her right-hand man, Tysha, could do that... but she would have to have a good reason too.

Her Barbrey was similar to Longclaw, a beautiful, majestic blade and a faithful companion...but also something that required care and attention while wielding.

One mistake and you could lose a limb to its sharp edge.

"An urgent missive from Torrhen's Square, my Lady!

Soon we must receive another from Waterdeep..." Said the girl, trying hard to look away.

Lady Dustin read the message carefully...

The woman's face stiffened and began to lose color.

Jorah noticed that his beloved was trying her best to avoid his gaze.

He stroked her cheek, trying to turn her gaze towards him.

The woman relented and placed the piece of paper in his 'Bear's' hands.

Jorah began reading the message with one hand, holding his 'Maiden's' hand tightly with the other.

As soon as the Lord of Bear Island finished reading the last word, he let go of the woman's hand and sprinted to his feet without a care for his naked body.

"I must go my lady!" Said Jorah with celerity as he hast hastily searched for his clothes.

Barbrey's breath broke with a soft moan.

After a few seconds, the woman tried to say:

"You will not be able to reach Waterdeep in time!

Lord Leobald will leave with help, certainly within the next three days!

Don't go..." Jorah ignored Lady Dustin's warning and continued undaunted to get dressed as fast as he could.

After Jorah slipped the first shirt on his exposed torso, he replied:

"I can do it.

I'll replace the horses along the road every ten miles...

I can reach Waterdeep within three days." Jorah.

"But..." Barbrey didn't know how to answer...

She knew, too, that if a person rode intermittently for at least ten hours a day along the Winter Road, they could accomplish such a distance within three days.

About a minute later, Jorah grabbed Long Claw and approached his beloved.

"My family and my people need me, my Lady.

I will return, I promise." Jorah kissed his Maiden intensely one last time before leaving the room.

After concluding the long kiss, Barbrey said:

"I know...

Wait."

Barbrey got out of bed and walked over to the bedside table, writing a message quickly. She poured some wax, from a nearby candle still burning, onto the paper and stamped Barrowton's seal.

"Take this and show it to every outpost you meet along the way...

You will have the fastest horses, and every man-at-arms in the garrison in the Dustin and Ryswell lands will join you.

I will send a raven to my father, to make you full authority over our forces." Said the enamored Lady, handing a roll of paper into her lover's hands.

The man could not help but smile warmly and lovingly at his new brightest light in this dark and dreary world.

...

In a time interval close to this one, abrupt awakenings and similar plans were coming to life in two other great Houses of the North...

End POV.

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POV: Admiral Gerion Lannister;

Port of Waterdeep.

About three days after an Island Lord left a fortress...

Gerion was aboard his ' Seeker of Brightroar ', one of the largest galleys in the west. A gift was given to him by House Tallhart some four years ago.

The expenses of maintaining the ship were not small. Every two years, the copper coating on the keel had to be replaced. Yet it was still the most majestic, fastest, and most powerful ship in the entire Lannister fleet.

Now Gerion held a piece of paper in his hand, a message he received from Casterly Rock that very morning...

The Lannister Fleet, which his house had taken years and gold and effort to obtain, was burning in its entirety in the ports of Lannisport...

The Iron Fleet had launched three attacks at the same time, taking Robert Baratheon's entire realm by surprise.

Balon GreyJoy had just declared himself King of Salt and Stone and ruler of the Iron Islands. Every castle in Westeros seemed to have received a raven from Pyke with that message...

At this moment, Balon's last fleet must have been about to dock on Bear Island.

His brother Tywin, Protector of the West, had ordered him to return immediately to Casterly Rock and bring back the last six ships remaining in House Lannister...

But Gerion had already given Leobald his word...

'A Lannister always pays his debts, brother.' Gerion thought as he finished writing the reply message to send to Casterly Rock.

A few minutes later...

'You don't owe me anything, Gerion...

If you have to go home, then go." Leobald said as he approached his friend on the deck of the ship.

"I've never seen Bear Island...

I want to find out if it's true that the local women mate with Bears. Ahahah..." Gerion.

"...I won't forget.

House Tallhart won't forget what you're doing for us, I swear." Leobald.

"Don't swear, Leobald.

You're not in charge of House Tallhart...

You only administer one of the most emergent cities in Westeros.

And you are in command of a paltry force of...How far have we come?" Gerion asked.

"Lord Jorah should arrive within a couple of hours with a retinue of about 1,000 knights, so, about 3,300 soldiers and 71 ships, thanks to my nephew." Leobald.

"Phew! Those roads are working well I see...Anyway, I was saying:

Exactly! You're the general of a measly army of 3,300 bloodthirsty, well-equipped, and trained Northmen...

So you have no authority to keep your ridiculous promises, my friend." Gerion.

Leobald gave a small grin in response, but his anxiety and concern erased any kind of smile. After a few seconds he asked Gerion:

"Do you think we'll get there in time?"

"Yes, I do.

'Bloody Nephew's plan is sound.

If he can hold off the enemy forces for two days, the Ironmen will be finished.

Of course, this plan would fail if House Tallhart didn't have a good, brave, competent, cunning and smiling, Fleet Admiral..." Gerion.

"Ahahahaha, the nickname you've been given is well deserved." Leobald.

"The Laughing Lion...

My nephew Tyrion, who has become my favorite nephew for a few years now, said something to me not long ago." Gerion.

"What did he tell you?" Leobald.

"That there are many kinds of smiles.

Naive smiles.

Fake smiles.

Genuine smiles.

Funny smiles.

Loving and friendly smiles.

But also Red Smiles...

Balon Greyjoy is probably smiling right now over his pew of dirt and salt.

And in the words of my favorite dwarf:

[ who smiles last, smiles best].

We shall see who smiles last and what kind of smile they make...

Surely Lord Drumm will know what other kind of smile the 'Laughing Lion' can do."