Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Merry Christmas Eve to you all, and for those of you who are in a very distant place from here, Merry Christmas!

Sorry for the delay, festive and Christmas issues plague me.

I will try as much as I can to make up for the delay.

Best wishes to you all again!

Happy reading!

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POV: Maege Mormont;

Dacey's Room, Castle Mormont.

About a day and a half after a maiden slumped to the ground...

Maege was sitting by the bedside of her daughter, Dacey.

The new young woman had slept for nearly two days.

House Tallhart, before departing with his fleet, had left behind their first healer, Jason.

A jovial and caring man of nearly forty.

The man had worked real miracles in the Allied camp.

The woman had seen him in person push a protruding bone back into the leg of a Mormont soldier.

The late Maester Louis had repeatedly insisted that the leg should be amputated and that there was nothing more he could do for the poor man.

Jason on the other hand, after treating the patient with instruments and surgical maneuvers for more than an hour, was confident that the patient would be able to walk again after about two moons.

Little Dacey was in his hands.

The healer had repeatedly reassured Maege that there was nothing to be worried about.

According to his medical advice, Dacey needed absolute rest for at least three days.

Every two hours, the healer or an instructed handmaiden would come in to give Dacey a mixture of water, honey, and restorative tonics through a spongy cloth.

The warrior Bear, although fierce and merciless in the eyes of others, was tender and caring towards her cubs.

Her four daughters, Dacey (12 years), Alysane (11 years), Lyra (8 years), and Jorelle (5 years), were four parts of her heart and soul.

One of these parts was unconscious and in danger (if only slightly).

Nevertheless, the Bear felt her motherly instincts taking over as if she were in danger.

Maege hadn't left Dacey's side for a second in the last 30 hours.

Her beloved, and as yet unofficial, betrothed had stood watch at the door of the room for the same length of time until he was forced to leave for Torrhen's Square.

He had left a sealed letter for Dacey's eyes only.

Every now and then he stroked her forehead and hair.

When Maege finished sharpening one of her three daggers for the third time, she began to caress her Dacey again.

The girl's eyes slowly began to open.

Dacey was waking up.

"Mmmm... Mother... "Dacey Mormont said in a weak and confused tone.

"I'm here, my child...

How do you feel?" Maege.

"... My head is spinning... mmm...

...it was just a dream..." Said the little girl, trying to get up slowly. Her tone conveyed both relief and regret.

"... A very long dream, Dacey.

You slept for quite a while, my pet." Explained Maege with a small smile.

" Huh?... How long?... I'm starving...

Wait...

Mother! How long did I sleep?!" Dacey began to become alarmed.

"Almost two days Dacey...

On the night of the banquet, you passed out and slept from then until now." Maege.

"So it wasn't a dream! He...

Where's my Bear?...emm I mean...

Where is Lord Duncan, Mother?

Did I embarrass House Mormont?

Did he say something?

What has happened all this time?" Dacey asked anxiously.

"Calm down my little Bear.

I won't tell you anything until Jason visits you and you eat something.

Water and honey are not enough to cure a Mormont's appetite." Said Maege in an authoritative tone as she rose from her chair.

"But mother!... Yes, mother..." Said Dacey as her head was laid back on the pillow by a maternal force almost impossible to counteract.

About thirty minutes later...

Jason had just left the room with a handmaiden who had brought a tray full of meat and steaming bread.

Only Jorah, Maege, and Dacey were present in the room.

The twelve-year-old was eating greedily and in a hurry.

Maege could see that her daughter was eager for news.

Jorah remained silent, watching the whole scene with an amused smile.

"I'm done...urgh...coff...sluurp....

Phew...

Yes, I'm done!

NOW TALK!!!" Said Dacey helping herself to a couple of taps on her chest and a sip of water to get the last bite down.

Maege let the Lord of the Island narrate the events.

"... On the evening of the banquet, after you and Lord Duncan went off for a ''walk'', you fainted in the arms of your hero, Dacey. Ahaha." Said Jorah, snatching a smirk from his Aunt as well.

"THIS... I already knew that, cousin!....

Emm... What happened next?" Dacey.

"... Well...

At first, there was a bit of ' confusion'...

Lord Duncan was carrying you in his arms wrapped in a cape and your dress was torn in a couple of places.

But then the boy had made it clear that you were unconscious due to lack of air and other... other physiological problems." Here Jorah passed the ball to his Aunt.

Dacey's face lit up like a red bulb.

"You're a woman now, Dacey.

Do you know what that means?

Do you want me to repeat the speech I gave you almost two years ago?" Maege.

"NO!!! No need, mother.

Thank you. I know what that means." Dacey.

"Ahahah, soon you too can have your pups.

And hopefully, they'll be pups with Mormont and Tallhart blood." Maege.

"I TOLD YOU... Wait...

What did you mean by that last sentence?!" Dacey asked, focusing all her attention on the next answer.

"I think it's finally time for your cousin and me to leave you alone.

You'll need privacy to read this.

Unfortunately, Dacey...

Lord Leobald, Bloody Snow, and his entire retinue left the shores of the island about six hours ago.

Lord Eddard Stark is summoning the entire North.

The Houses of the North, have many preparations to make.

They could not wait any longer." Maege left a sealed letter in wax lacquer embossed with a symbol of a banner she had never seen before.

A new banner that represented House Tallhart, or to be exact 'Bloody Snow'.

End POV.

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POV: Catelyn Stark;

Winterfell.

Year 289, the fourth day of the fourth moon.

The morning after a maiden read a letter...

Catelyn had just finished washing and dressing.

That morning two handmaidens had to help her with her needs.

The Lady of Winterfell was in her seventh month of pregnancy. Her belly was swollen and heavy. In her womb, she carried the third heir of the great and noble House Stark.

In her heart, Catelyn prayed that the child would be another girl.

Her Sansa was an angel who had fallen from heaven.

For the first two years, the child cried only when necessary. She slept soundly and smiled most of the time.

Although Catelyn loved Robb with all her heart, she felt a different and deeper bond with her Sansa.

Robb's first had been trauma to her.

The child cried constantly at all hours of the day and night. Inside Robb, there was wild wolf blood.

Tully, on the other hand, was more pronounced inside Sansa.

Catelyn was adamant about this.

She wanted another child. She wanted it with all her heart.

She certainly wouldn't have resented the new unborn child if it had been a boy, but the last three years with Sansa misted her eyes.

By now, Catelyn Stark was once again the true Lady of Winterfell.

It had taken her four long and arduous years to erase that infamous stain from her name.

Even her relationship with her husband had never been stronger or more profound.

Catelyn's life returned to being more carefree and happy than ever.

Of course, there was always the occasional hair in the egg that made her dark and moody.

Four hairs to be exact... and they were three 'Bastard' hairs and one 'scullery maid' hair.

The word 'Bastard', which she had erased from her vocabulary on her husband Ned's orders, always swam secretly in her thoughts.

'Ser Haymitch Rivers... Jon Snow... and 'Bloody Snow'... '

The wastrel Knight, constantly drunk, was certainly the most troublesome to her.

Catelyn was adamant that the man was only undermining her House's finances.

Rarely taking guard duty, he spent most of his time drinking, sleeping, ranting, eating, and going to the brothels of Wintertown.

Although Ser Haymitch was taken in sympathy by most of Winterfell's residents, he certainly wasn't for Catelyn.

The man dared to call her husband, the Lord of Winterfell and Protector of the North, 'NED'...

He addressed her as 'Lady Stark' of course... but he did so in a most annoyingly subtly ironic tone.

Catelyn covertly ground her teeth whenever she was in the presence of this man.

A man who, before he was in the service of House Stark, was in the service of Lord Tytos Blackwood, an ensign of her father, Lord Hoster Tully.

About three months ago, there was an incident.

Her son Robb and Jon got into a fight and even had a fight.

After Robb lost the fight, which was supervised by Ser Rodrick, her son became angry and frustrated and heavily insulted Jon. Telling him that he was not his true brother and that he did not belong to the House of Stark...

Jon ran away from the training grounds in tears.

The boy hid somewhere.

After a few hours of futile searching for Jon.

Ser Haymich dared to raise his hands to her son, the rightful heir of Winterfell, and dragged him by the ear forcing him to find the 'bastard' and even apologize to him...

It was Ser Haymitch and Robb who found Jon after a long search.

The boy had been hiding in the crypts of Winterfell.

The next day, Catelyn, who demanded fair punishment for Ser Haymitch's behavior, tried to demand justice from Ned, completely ignoring the subject of 'Jon Snow'.

Ned simply replied to her:

[ Both children are well, Robb has learned a lesson he needed to learn, and my children are now smiling, forming a brotherly bond with each other more firmly than before.

There is nothing to discuss, Cat.

The subject is closed and buried].

And that was just the first hair on my head.

The other two hairs could only be swallowed without making a peep or a complaint about it.

As for the 'scullery maid' hair, Lady Catelyn's hands were tied there as well.

The new master baker, Brisea, had done nothing to her or said anything that would directly offend her.

The fact was that the young woman, apart from being beautiful and smelling of pastry at all times, had an attitude of consideration for 'Ned's Bastard'.

The woman had created an almost mother-son relationship with Jon.

At least once a day, the boy would secretly sneak into the kitchens to get sweets, caresses, and songs from her...

There was even a rumor in the castle...

According to many, 'that bitch' was Ned's secret lover.

Catelyn wanted to personally whip anyone who gave vent or credence to those rumors.

In her heart, she had her doubts about it too. In addition to being attractive and melodic, the woman had very similar hair to Jon. An annoying coincidence...

When Catelyn plucked up the courage to confront Ned on the subject, he simply said that the rumors were false and that he had never met the woman before she came to Winterfell.

The next day those rumors ceased.

Catelyn could do nothing to the 'Flour Whore'.

Besides being impeccable in her manners, the baker made the best bread and pastries ever.

At every meal, someone praised the day's work of, Brisea.

More than one soldier and even Jory Cassel somehow tried to seduce the 'Dame of Sweets', without success...

Many thought that her heart already belonged to 'someone else'...

Perhaps that was the bitterest pill of all that Catelyn had to swallow every day.

But still, the Lady of Winterfell always managed to contain her impulses.

After a short and careful descent, Catelyn finally reached the main hall where the whole family was gathered for breakfast.

Ned had returned only the day before from his journey to Torrhen's Square.

He had been up most of the night working with Ser Rodrick and Maester Luwin.

Something serious was happening in Westeros, but Catelyn did not yet know what.

All she knew was that her husband had returned from that infamous castle with no marriage agreement.

The best news of the year, for a mother who would have sold her soul to the vilest and evil of witches to stop anyone from taking her Sansa from her.

Catelyn wept for three days and nights when Ned told her of his intention to give Sansa away as the bride of that 'Monster'.

About ten minutes later...

"I tell you, I will win today!" Robb said to his half-brother in a defiant tone.

"You said that yesterday too! I'm better than you with a sword!

You're going to lose today too!" Jon.

"We'll see about that, Jon!" Robb.

"No...

You two, after you finish eating, will go to Maester Luwin's to take the morning class. No 'buts'...

You will only be able to play with your wooden swords in the early afternoon... and in Jory's presence.

Do I make myself clear?" Ned intervened.

"... Yes, father." They both rested, turning their attention again with their heads down to their porridge.

Though focused on finishing their meal, the two continued to give each other challenging looks.

"Ned... You should rest.

You look exhausted. You didn't sleep last night, did you?" Cat said quietly.

"... I'll try to rest a few hours later, Cat.

There's so much to do... " Ned.

"Will you tell me what's going on?

Please don't keep secrets from me. Share your sorrows with me." Cat.

Ned thought about it for a moment and finally spilled the beans.

Sooner or later all of Westeros would be talking about it.

He had no reason to keep the secret.

"... The Greyjoys have rebelled, Cat.

The Iron Islands have declared war on Robert.

The Iron Fleet launched three surprise attacks.

One on Lannispot.

another on Seagard.

and a third on Bear Island...

We await word of the battle, Cat.

Over 5,000 ironborn attacked Mormont House...

House Tallhart, Glover, Dustin, and Ryswell have sent for reinforcements, but we don't know if they've arrived in time.

... Helman Tallhart's heir was visiting Castle Mormont at the same time and stayed there with a small militia to help Lady Maege hold out until help arrived.

The entire North is holding its breath waiting for news to come." Ned explained in a low voice. He did not want his sons to hear now that the North had entered the war.

He wanted to delay that moment as late as possible.

Catelyn was visibly shocked and worried as soon as she heard the news.

She involuntarily clasped her hand on her husband's arm, knowing full well what path her beloved was about to take.

A bloody road was full of dangers.

Dangers that could have left her a widow and alone.

Amidst all the shocking news, there was only one positive.

A small hope grew within her.

It was a dark and malevolent thought, which even a small voice inside her rebuked.

A voice that cried out [Duty and Honour]... but the voice [FAMILY] that came before the two of them quickly suppressed it.

'May the seven have heard my prayers...

Perhaps... Maybe the 'Monster' met the end it deserved... ' Catelyn thought as she concentrated with all her might to hold back an expression of relief.

"Lord Stark!..." Called an elderly voice behind the pair.

Maester Luwin was approaching at a brisk pace carrying two rolls of paper of different sizes.

One was an ordinary open message, and the other looked like an unopened letter.

"Maester! Any news from Bear Island?" Ned asked, snapping to his feet.

"Yes, my lord.

Lord Helman sends us the news, at last, Lord Stark.

House Mormont has lost its ravens, unfortunately...

Lord Leobald and Lord Jorah sent a message to Torrhen's Square earlier and Lord Helman turned the message over to us." Luwin explained, handing the two pieces of paper to Lord Stark.

Ned read the first one already opened and then immediately prepared to open the second message sealed with the symbols of House Mormont and Tallhart.

Lord Stark read it carefully, first smiling and then widening his eyes...

The man was rereading part of the message several times.

Catelyn couldn't stop herself from asking:

"Ned? Are your bannermen alright?... "Robb and Jon raised their heads in curiosity as events unfolded.

Both Robb and Jon asked:

"Father what's going on?" "Tell us, father! We want to know too!"

All attention was focused on Lord Eddard Stark.

The man seemed hesitant to answer... He didn't want Jon and Robb to hear... but the news was so good that he couldn't help himself.

"Three days ago, Allied forces from the North defeated the hundred Iron Fleet ships led by Denys Drumm...

The North gained a crushing victory.

We suffered few casualties, and none of my allies perished during the fight." Ned announced with pride and authority.

Half the hall heard those words.

Catelyn frowned slightly but took the news well.

She was still happy with her house.

A landslide victory could also mean the end of a war.

'There is more...'

Lord Jorah writes that the credit for this success is solely and exclusively due to House Tallhart.

Lord Duncan Tallhart, faced the enemy commander in a duel to the death to determine the fate of the clash and prevailed in the fight.

Lord Denys Drumm fell at the hands of the hero of the North." Catelyn lost a heartbeat as soon as Ned finished speaking those words.

Her face was petrified and time seemed to slow down...

A dark, living nightmare mercilessly assaulted the Lady of Winterfell, ripping away every ounce of happiness, hope, and joy inside her.

"BLOODY SNOW HAS CHALLENGED LORD DRUMM?!" Robb roared in an excited and surprised tone. Jon continued the question he wanted to add his brother.

"AND HE WON FATHER?!

THE NORTH WON AGAINST THE IRON ISLANDS?!" Jon.

"Yes, my sons.

The North has won." Ned announced to everyone with a big smile.

Over forty people in the hall rejoiced upon hearing those words.

Catelyn still couldn't move or speak, but luckily for her, no one seemed to be paying attention.

"Jon, come here." Ned.

"Yes, father!" Jon snapped towards the man who called out to him.

"Before you go to class, find Ser Haymitch.

Give him this message..." Ned whispered something in Jon's ear, who laughed for a moment upon hearing some of the words.

"Is everything clear to you?" Ned.

"Yes, father I will!" Jon.

"Well... Ah.

First, stop by Master Brisea's stove and get something hot for Ser Haymitch...

He probably hasn't had his breakfast yet."

End POV.

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POV: Brisea;

Winterfell.

About twenty minutes after a letter was opened...

"Jon... I thought I told you the water was supposed to be 'Tiepid' ...

Why is there steam coming out of the bucket?" The ''Lady of Sweets'' asked the black-haired boy at her side who was carrying a gallon bucket filled with water and soap.

"Here... I think I got distracted for a moment...

Yes, I didn't tread carefully enough on the hearth." The boy justified himself in a tone full of unease.

"... And why is your belly so swollen, Jon?

You're not hiding something under your clothes, are you?" Brisea asked as she continued to look ahead towards their destination.

"No!... Your croissants this morning were so good I must have eaten too much!" Said Jon with a look and tone as false as a golden dragon in copper.

"... You know what happens to knights who don't keep their word, don't you?" Brisea.

"Yes, I know...

''No sweets to the lying knights. '..." Jon said in a tone that was distressed but also expressed acceptance.

"Umm... well.

Let's go, surely that drunkard will be in the kennel again." Brisea quickened her pace holding another bucket and a steaming bag of cloth in her hands.

About a minute later...

Brisea and Jon were standing in front of a pitiful figure slumped among the dirty paws.

A man in his late forties dirty from hair down to the tips of his toes, wearing threadbare but well-made clothes. A dried vomit stain could be seen on his woolen doublet.

Ser Haymitch had had another good night and had slumped down to rest in another part of the castle other than his rooms.

Brisea detested the behavior of the man who was supposed to be a role model for Jon...

Whatever Haymitch did, it cast a stain on the title of [Ser]...

She knew Jon had a soft spot for Haymitch.

The six-year-old found the man likable and funny.

"Come on Jon... You know what to do." Brisea urged.

"But... maybe it would be a good idea to wake him up first, Lady Brisea..." Jon.

"That's the way to wake him up, Jon." Brisea.

Jon hesitated for a few moments, then, making sure to have his back to the suspicious and scrutinizing woman first, reluctantly did his duty.

"Swosshh!!!", "PUARGH!!! Who's there!!! Show yourself you coward!!! Damn you, I...

Jon... Lady Brisea..." He was interrupted by a drenched Haymitch quickly hiding his drawn dagger in the straw. Some of the hunting dogs that had fallen asleep near Haymitch fled with their tails between their legs from the splash.

"Haymitch... My father, Lord Stark, requests your presence... "Jon said, putting down the bucket.

"Boy, this is no way to wake up an honest knight in the service of the 'Noble and Prestigious' House Stark!

You do know that in less than six months you and your brother will both be in my hands, don't you?" Haymitch asked, not caring about the presence of that 'evil witch' who berated him at every opportunity.

"Yes... I know, Ser Haymitch... " Jon tried with all his dexterity and quickness of hand to conceal the movements he was trying to hide from Brisea.

The woman knew what Jon was doing...

He was trying to pass a flask to that drunkard Haymitch who drank more alcohol than water at any hour of the day or night.

Haymitch noticed Jon's gift and said.

"You have your good points too, Jon.

So what does the great and magnificent, Lord Eddard Stark, desire of me?" Haymitch asked, trying to hold his own with Jon as he hid the flask inside his sleeve.

"My father told me to tell you verbatim:

[ Ser Haymitch, as your Lord Protector I command you to join me as soon as possible.

Your lord needs advice from an expert in the field.

More importantly:

The time has come to protect my backside of undisputed nobility.]

Ahahahah!" Jon began to laugh out loud as he thought back to those last words.

"Hmm... did a war break out somewhere while I was asleep, Jon?" Haymitch reasoned for a moment.

"Ah, Yes! The Greyjoys have rebelled!

You don't know what happened! Lord Balon declared himself King of the Iron Islands and then he rebelled against the crown, and then..." Jon's enthusiasm was interrupted.

"Easy, easy Jon...

My head is still spinning... I'll listen to all the history of Westeros as soon as I've recovered.

Go to your father and tell him I'm coming." Said Haymitch massaging his eyes and wet temples.

"Yes, Ser Haymitch!" Jon sprinted excitedly in search of his father.

The 'letter boy' had another message to deliver.

Brisea and Haymitch were left alone inside the kennel.

"My lady." Said Haymitch as he stood up and gave a funny bow.

"Swoshhh!!!" This time it was a bucket of icy water that ran over the poor knight.

"Arrghh! That was cold!!!

I'm already awake and up, what did you do that for, you evil bread witch?!" Reprimanded Haymitch instinctively.

"Because you stink.

Because your clothes are still stained with vomit.

Because I felt like it.

And because you deserve it, Ser.

You should be ashamed of yourself...

Showing up like this in front of a six-year-old who dreams of being a knight someday!

Argh!.." Brisea restrained the urge to slap the man again.

"Stuff..." A bag hit the man's chest.

"Here drunkard, your breakfast is served."