In Cold Waters
"What is it?" ask Jon as he stood staring at the disemboweled dear on there path.
"Mountain lion?" Theon guessed.
"No mountain lions in these woods." Eddard Stark shook his head slowly as he spoke lowly. He glanced around the deer and found a trail of blood, and massive foot prints from no beast he knew off. He led his party away from the road, down a trail to a stream.
Finally he saw the cause of the blood though not the foot prints as he knelled beside a huge grey direwolf, five pups mewing at her belly.
"It's a freak." Theon said.
"Its a dire wolf." Ned said, looking to his company. "Its an awful waste." He pulled a long piece of wood from the Direwolfs' throat, it was shaped oddly like a finger, gnarled and twisted.
"There are no Direwolves south of the wall." Robb said.
"Now there are five." Jon picked up a puppy and offered it to Bran. "Do you want to hold it."
Bran took the puppy. "Where will they go?" The young boy of ten asked. "Their mother is dead."
"They don't belong here." Rodrik Cassel said.
"Better a quick death, they won't last long without their mother." Eddard said and Theon jumped down the hill to the puppies.
"Right give it here." Theon said blade drawn.
"No!" Bran said cuddling the pup to his chest.
"Put away your blade." Robb growled.
"I take orders from your father not you." Theon said.
"Please Father." Bran pleaded.
Ned shook his head. "I'm sorry Bran."
"Lord Stark, there are five pups. One for each of the Stark children," he paused for a breath. "The Direwolf is the signal of your house, they were meant to have them."
Everyone looked to Ned, he breathed deeply twice and sighed. "You will train them yourselves, you'll feed them yourselves and if they die. You'll bury them yourselves." He turned away and Jon handed two puppies to his brother, how gave them to Theon then took two more.
"What about you?" Bran asked.
"I'm not a Stark." Jon said.
Jon started back up the path when he heard a mew and speak, his half brother Robb heard it as well.
"What is it?" he asked sharply.
From under the roots of a tree Jon pulled out a small white pup.
"Runt of the litter, that on is yours Snow." Theon said snidely.
Jon looked at his puppy then back at the tree, the water ran pale red with blood.
"My Lord!" Jon called out and leaped into the stream and started to charge up it.
"Jon!" Ned called but was force to follow, though he had to make his way back down the hill first.
The steam was cold and Jon made his way up it, around the bend beyond the bridge. The water grew steady redder as he moved upwards. The sight in the water stopped him in his tracks.
It was a woman, their was no question of that given her nude form, but her skin was the colour of ash and she had deep red hair so dark as to be almost black. Deep gashes covered her back and legs, as that was the only part of her Jon could see. Ned caught up to him at this point, "Jon." he growled but then followed his sons gaze.
They both stared for a moment having never heard of an ashen skin people before. The rest of the company caught up and fell into the same pattern. Ned drew his sword and slowly approach the figure, Jon followed suit.
Gently he turned her over to lay on her back, more deep gouges covered her torso.
"Is it dead?" Theon asked.
Ned leaned over and listened from a breath, he was about to say no when a very slight breeze tickled his cheek.
"Her chest moved!" Jon said and was already pulling his cloak off.
Wasting no more time Ned picked up the small woman and Jon wrapped his cloak around her.
He ran back the way he had come, he past the woman off to Jon, mounted his steed and they raced back to Winterfell.
Herian felt strange when she awoke, warm, that was rather odd. She hadn't expected to awaken, the last thing she could remember was trying to fight off that forest spirit. That poor direwolf and her pups. In seconds the fog was gone form her eyes and she shot upright with a shout. "The pups! Oww." she hissed and pressed a hand to her stomach, her back was equally painful but she couldn't do anything about that.
"Easy easy." Jon jumped from his set beside the window and pressed her back into the bed, pulled the furs up. "The pups are safe, here." He picked his small white pup Ghost from the floor and put it beside her.
Herians' fingers found the pup and it squeaked happy under her pets. "Sorry about your Mom little one. That was one nasty fight."
Jon pulled up his chair. "What were you fighting? The Maester was amazed that you are alive."
Herian thought for a moment, her mind was foggy. "I never got a good look, it was dark and it got my eyes early in the fight." She winced as she breathed a bit to deeply.
Jon couldn't hid his disappointed expression. "I should go get my Lord, he will want to know you have awakened." He all but ran from the room.
Ghost squeaked at him as he went, Jon came back and gave it a pet. Promised to be back in a minute, then tore from the room.
Herian smiled at the pup. "Picked that one have you?" the elf stroked it behind an ear. "He seems a nice enough sort."
She pulled her legs up and turned herself to sit on the edge of the bed and winced again. "Shit." she muttered and resisted the urge to heal herself as best she could, she could smell magic on the boy but it was faint. Wobbing to her feet and slowly stretched taking stock of her injuries. Her back was a mess that much she could tell, her stomach had three large claw-marks as well as a few on her thighs. The cuts on her brow had healed while she had slept, and she could feel all her wounds ooze slowly. With that Herian guessed that she had only been out for a few hours. Beyond her bandages she wore nothing, it probably wasn't a concern of whoever saved her at the time; and they would get in the way of healing.
Glancing down, Herian trailed one of her hands along the side of her leg. The elf grimaced, while her back and front had suffered the worst of the injuries, the rest of her body had not been so easily spared. Shallow cuts and slashes marred the woman's bare flesh from head to toe. Claw marks and thin slits along her skin, where literal pieces of meat had been torn from her flesh. It was like a rusty, metal fishing hook had been plunged into her skin and ripped out without care.
Herian ran her hand through her hair with a sigh, "What a bother."
None of the wounds were fatal, not even close; they were closer to a merger paper-cut, like something one got when accidentally running their hand across a piece of parchment. They would heal swiftly. It was just going to be a pain to deal with in the meanwhile.
Whilst the woman examined her beaten body, a door opened on the opposite side of the room.
Two sets of hefty boots marched through a large wooden door. Jon followed his father in, much to the delight of the tiny white wolf. It wagged its tail happily, as if it had been several hours since they had last seen each other. In front of the youth, Eddard Stark entered the chamber, still clothed in leather, with a large imposing sword sheathed upon his waist.
His expression was stern, serious, but not to the point of appearing cold like the winds outside. The colossal Stark turned his gaze toward Herian and gave her a quick once over. His stare did not last as long as Jon's had, but it remained for a short moment.
"Well," he mused, "If you are standing, then it seems your wounds weren't as severe as those in my company had described."
Herian turned her gaze from herself and took to the man in front of her. She recalled Jon's earlier words. He had gone to fetch his lord, which spoke much of the man if such words were to be believed.
"I heal fast," she nodded and crossed her arms, "And if I am to assume you are who had plucked me from those icy waters, then I thank you for the rescue."
Eyes unchanging, Ned lightly nudged his head to the side with amusement. "You assume much. In truth, it was Jon here, who had found you. Without him, the fishes would likely be having quite the feast at this very moment, as would the worms."
Such a grim fate to be certain. Not of the worst though, even up in the North, one such as Ned could recall much more gruesome outcomes; that could have befell some poor sod, each worse than the last. In fact, some were of the level where bleeding out in an icy stream could be considered a mercy in some ways.
"Ah, but this your Keep if I were to guess that as well, and thus, it is you I owe my thanks." Herian insisted.
Ned frowned, rather committed this one. "If you are so certain," he noted, "But thanks aside, it is good to see you are of good condition. Many of my house were almost certain you weren't long for this world. Those wounds had been rather grave, if I may."
Glancing down at herself, Herian's lips curled into a frown.
The worst of her wounds aside, many of the bloody injuries had healed back from the grave wounds they had been. Even so, the gravity of such scars were obvious to anyone whose eyes even brushed over them. It's hard to blame someone for thinking such thoughts after she was fished out of the icy waters. She was lucky they hadn't thrown her into a hole the moment she was seen by all.
"Though, I'm afraid that I am getting ahead of myself." Ned noted, shifting subjects.
"While Jon has briefed me on what had happened upon that muddy marsh, I'm afraid the subjects of names has been rather absent from our introductions."
Herian blinked, "Oh, of course."
In her concern for the pups, the act of actually introducing herself had completely slipped her mind. The matter of waking up after being mauled by a savage beast and left for dead in an icy creak weighed heavily on one's mind. Still, the elf felt it rather rude to greet those she owed her life to without a name of any kind.
That had to be corrected, rather swiftly. Bowing her head, the young woman turned to the two men of House Stark and crossed both her arms. "I go by Herian Indoril." she greeted, "Guest to your house, and thankful for your hospitality."
In the rather quaint guest room, Herian's voice echoed forth with a feeling of sincerity and gratefulness. Her tone was that of someone who knew of the position she was in, and yet, was happy. Happy to be alive, and grateful to those who had saved her from the watery grave that was almost a guarantee if not for their efforts.
Across the woman, outwardly Ned showed very little reaction to the greeting. His bearded face held firm, still as stern and serious as he had been upon entering. He was somewhat like a wall, similar to the stone that protected them from the chilly embrace of nature, but inwardly, the man was surprised. Not by her choice of words, but the feeling behind it. It was strange, yet not unpleasant.
Ned nodded, "A very interesting name you have there. I cannot say I have heard of many like it."
Herian grinned and said. "I am named for my Sire, a great Khajiit hunter."
Neds' lips turned slightly at the corner at her strange word, but when on to say. "Greetings go two way I suppose." he noted with a slight chuckle, "I am Ned Stark, of House Stark. I am aware that you are already acquainted with Jon Snow."
To the Lord of House Stark's side, Jon gave a slight bow at the mention of his name. Oddly, the small white pup at his feet did the same, though unaware of the importance of such a gesture.
Herian inhaled deeply and asked. "Why does he not share your name? He smells of your blood."
Similar to the sound of a brick shattering against the stone ground below, the two men of House Stark stopped abruptly at the question, as off handed and curious as it was.
Jon turned his gaze downward, suddenly overcome with the urge to look away. His gaze fell upon the small pup that now stood next to his feet. It had scampered over him during the commotion that followed Ned's arrival.
Of the man himself, Ned's steely gaze faltered, if just for a moment. It was as if he had been slapped in the face, though the hand behind it was too weak to make him flinch.
"That is," he muttered, "a topic not for this time."
Herian lips turned up and her brow wrinkled. "As you wish, though I do not grasp why both of you look like you've been punched in the gut." The elf rolled a shoulder, trying to get the stiffness to alleviate. "If you have questions ask, I will answer to the best of my abilities."
Ned sighed, grateful for the change in subject; at his side, Jon did the same. Neither wished to discuss such matters with someone they had picked up off the streets. They got enough of that as it was, though on the matter of questions to ask, Ned scratched his chin.
"Will you now?" he mused, "That is good, for I do have a few. One for example, is the matter of how you are standing here before me to begin with."
"Eh, a few different means mostly, hmm I do not even know if your kind has them." Herian splayed her fingers over her chest. "I am a Hound of Hircine, lycanthrope or werewolf if that means more to you. It gives me great resistance to cold and the ability to heal from what would be fatal woulds to a man." The elf massaged her shoulder again. "That damn Leshen, at least I think it was a leshen." she frowned thinking on what she remembered.
Jon blinked, he spared his direwolf up a small glance. The tiny creature merely crooked its head to the side confusingly, as if asked a strange question. "I'm sorry, did you say, werewolf?" he asked. The boy's words felt as confusing to him as they sounded out in the open. What exactly could that have meant-
Ned spoke up, "I am sorry, but did you say Leshen?"
Herian started undoing the bandages around her middle and cut the ones on her back with a half formed claw. "Leshens are, hmm put simply blood thirsty tree spirits. Very territorial it and the Direwolf mother were fighting over a deer, I intervened. I gave as good as I got, so hopefully you won't have to worry about it. On the other hand if it does come back, I recommend steel swords plated with silver. As for your comment Jon." She stepped away from the bed and pulled her wolf forth.
Her limbs twisted and length-ed, rib change expanded, face elongated as the soft elven features turned into a wolfs features, lastly her skin split open and her was covered in grey fur, with a long wide gold strip down her back and arms. The timber wolf, werewolf raised its head to howl but no sound came forth. Her wounds healed in seconds, leaving perfect fur in their wake.
Though the air, the sound of splitting bones and stretching muscles wrecked the minds of the two men in the room. Jon's jaw dropped like an anvil, whilst his father's eyes shot open with shock. Father and son swiftly reached for their swords and took a large step back, near the point where their backs would hit the wall behind them.
Fear, shock, surprise. All almost overwhelmed the duo, to the point of near non-comprehension.
Oddly, Ghost didn't seem too shocked. The small direwolf looked up at the creature in front of the three with wide eyes, befitting of the young pup that it was.
Standing in front of the Stark men was a colossal werewolf, a wolf-ish creature standing on its hind-legs with sharp teeth, claws like sharpened daggers, and eyes that could scare an entire legion of men away as if they were but babes lost in the woods. It was something that neither men could find words to describe for nearly a minute or so.
Ned clamped his hand around his blade's hilt, if just to calm himself. "Well," he mused, "that certainly is one way to answer a question."
The wolf let out a barking laugh, a hand came up to press against its chest in a human like gesture. She moved forward to stand arms as well and lowered her head to the ground. The timber wolf let out a great soft rumbled and Ghost with a happy squeak bounded over and rubbed a cheek against hers. After a moment she stood and pulled the wolf back in, the shift back took a moment longer and looked more painful. Ghost zipped back over to Jon.
Herian half collapsed back against the bed, chest heaving for breath. She swallowed thickly then said. "I figured it would best to show you something rather then try and convince you with words."
"Yes," Ned noted, "That's, certainly would have been much more difficult to be sure."
After witnessing the sight of a woman transforming into a massive fur covered beast and back, the Head of House Stark spared a glance at his son. Jon had remained standing despite his shock. The boy's arms and legs shook wildly, and his grip refused to release his sword.
Regardless of asking the very question himself; the boy looked terrified, Ned couldn't blame him, not one bit. Legends of the White Walkers were less bone chilling than what he and his son had just witnessed. To think Ned thought the Walkers were just a myth!
Shaking his head, the Stark took a deep breath and relinquished his grip over his weapon. Faster than his son could, Ned calmed down the best he could. Whilst he hadn't transformed into something like his elf guest had, the man's nerves were practically trembling under his skin.
Again, a rather reasonable response.
Eventually though, Ned calmed himself down and sighed, "So then, you are one of these, Lycanthropes, as you called yourself?"
"Aye, a child of Hircine he is the Daedric Prince though you would call him God of the hunt." Herian pulled a fur from the bed around herself, she was fine with changing one way, but back and forth without eating between. That was exhausting, she could feel the cold creeping in and she was starving.
Ned raised a brow, "So you say? I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with such titles."
In the land of Westeros, there were many legends and tales of beings, many of which were vast and different. There were the dragons, the creatures of the North, legends of people who could become closer to creatures than even skinchangers could...
Ned could not recall anything like a Daedric Prince. Though oddly, the name did not fill him with any sort of relief. The name sounded, ominous and a bit crazy too. Though given the current times of the land, that wasn't uncommon.
Herian chuckled and waved a hand tiredly. "Well if the colour of my skin didn't give me away, as not from here, I'm not sure what will." She tapped her chin with a finger. "Think of Daedric Princes as Gods that will actually respond on occasion if you give an appropriate offering. For example for Azura, she is the Daedric Prince of Dawn and Dusk, you would offer her ectoplasm. If she has a task for you she would speak to you, sometimes appear before you, others just talk in your head." she chuckled. "Though my family rarely needs to talk to her, my grandmother is her champion. She is rather on a first name bases with the Prince. Oh." she slapped her forehead. "We call them Prince but they pick which sex they wish to appear in. Azura is always female, Hircine male, Mephala will change to who she is trying to use. Uhh. Hmm." she looked at the two males. "None of this making any sense to you is it?"
Ned blinked, "Not particularly."
Jon stared forward, a numb expression on his face. The young youth glanced down at his white pup and gave it a confused look. The little hound merely glanced back with a similar expression. Ghost was about as close to understand what was going on as Jon was, and Ghost was a newborn too boot.
"To say that this wasn't the explanation I was expecting would be all too true for words," the elder Stark mused, "At this rate, you're likely to say that you come from beyond the wall-" Suddenly, Ned stopped himself, "Actually, don't answer that."
After that rather expansive fill of information, being known to be from a place stranger and more bizarre than what lies beyond the wall to the North may be too much for one to bear. Jon looked as if he was clueless enough as it was. Poor lad, he had much to learn.
Though this, wasn't was his father had in mind.
Herian giggled at that, a high sweet sound. "Probably wise, if Daedra are a bit much for you my homeland would probably make your mind explode. Any other questions? If its alright with you, I'm hungry and I need to go collect my things. I left them by the road before engaging the Leshen."
Jon blinked, seemingly snapping out of his confused stopper.
"You merely left your belongings along some random roadside, just like that?" he asked, concerned. How easy would it have been for someone to just stumble upon her things and claim them for themselves?
Bandits weren't known around these parts, but anything was possible.
Ned shook her head, "I'd imagine she would have hidden them rather well. Would be troublesome to have some random creature drag off her attire into the night."
"But of course," he noted, turning back toward the elf, "There are more questions to be had, but I can put off my curiosity for now."
As stoic as he appeared, the Stark had many more questions to ask. Herian's answers had done nothing more than bring forth more questions. Though of course, getting some straight answers could be difficult on an empty stomach. That and, she did look cold, for obvious reasons.
Ned frowned, it was a tad odd that the woman hadn't said a thing about her current, lack of attire as of yet. Even the more bold lasses in Westeros would rather mind being bare to the world, especially in the current set of weather.
Days were getting colder, the winds sharper. The summer days had grown much shorter and the painful reminders were harder to ignore. Winter was coming, again after so many years of a peaceful summer. Though to many, even in the North, it was hard to consider things, peaceful.
'Then again, I am talking to someone who just, changed into a beast even direwolfs paled in comparison to,' he inwardly sighed, 'What a bothersome day its been.'
Finding the direwolfs had already sparked a rather big change, but this? It was things like this that made Ned miss the North, least he could comprehend the things that happened up there. Down in the south, things just felt off; he glanced at his guest again.
Herian drew the furs around her a bit better, normally she didn't get cold. Perk of being a werewolf, but between fighting, healing and two shifts, the energy that usually kept her warm was long gone. She watched Ned, trying to work out what he was thinking, the elf thought it must be very strange. His people didn't believe in magic, he must be trying to figure out what it all means. The elf felt her ears twitch forward when he frowned, she felt blush creep up into her cheeks. She loved her ears, they were endlessly useful, but Khajiit mixed with just about any other race, much less a dark elf. Was very rare, so she had little quirks, her ears occasionally reflected her mood.
Her features were much softer then a normal dark elf; she even had that extra bone in her throat, that let her purr. The man before her was a confusing he looked like a Nord but if all the furs he was wearing was any indicator. He had no magic, and yet she could smell it on him, but she couldn't tell what type. As humans go, he was very confusing, from what she had gleamed from most of the humans. Was that they were more likely to cut her head off because she was different then save her life. She shuddered think how werewolves were usually treated, though it had been better since the Nerevarine had devoted a section of her army to werewolves. Her grandmother had described them as the 'ultimate cavalry', plus werewolves in armour were terrifying. Rather then comment, she decided to watch the human male.
Ned ran his hands over his face. Thoughts weren't going to give the man anymore answers. The Stark knew that merely grumbling over his confusions would only make them worse. If he were to find his answers, he'd have to do it the hard way. Though this time, without the use of Ice, his colossal Vaylairan greatsword.
The man settled his gaze back on the trembling woman. He sighed, "Jon."
"Yes sir?" the youth replied.
"Go fetch some food for our guest, and a cloak as well." Ned told him. He then turned back his gaze back to the elf. The woman still sat on the bed, clutching the fur from the bed.
"I won't assume your size of attire, but something to help would the cold seems more appropriate than the bedding."
"Yes sir." Jon retreaded from the room Ghost on his heals.
Ned silently watched as his son departed. The raven head youth rushed out of the wooden door with a purpose, as did the small pup that scampered on behind him.
The Stark almost chuckled. The direwolfs had only been with them a short time, and yet even the scamp of the litter had taken a liking over his son.
"Thank you." Herian said and asked. "Where am I? Forgive my ignorance but side from the occasional hiding in a corner of a tavern. I've avoid your kind."
Shaking his head, Ned glanced at his desk with a nod, "Ah, of course. That I cannot blame you, but this is no merger tavern. You find yourself within Winterfell."
"That would be the castle on the plains? I generally stick to the forests." Herian stated.
"Hm, I see." Ned nodded.
The Stark crossed his arms over his chest. He could understand that, some weren't made for living in massive structures; and given her rather beastual nature, that was even more obvious. A person who could transform into a colossal, wolf-like creature.
"Whilst we wait for the boy to return," Ned mused, "Would you mind if I asked you another question? Not of, where you are from though." There had been enough of that for one day, least in Ned's opinion.
Herian smiled and said. "Fire away, you're the first human that I have meet that I find enjoyment in speaking too."
"A shame that is," Ned sighed regrettably, "But not too surprising."
Even without war, bloodshed often proved much more common than the act of speaking out. Be it in the North, on the Wall, or closer to the South, people rarely spared the effort to talk. Especially for those who they saw as different.
"But that aside, I cannot help but feel curious." he mused, "What are your plans from here? It is thanks to you that we now have many new, rather small additions to my house, and with your," he paused. "unique position, I cannot but wonder."
Herian shrugged. "I would like to find a way to repay you for your kindness as well as your son. But I know very little of what you would need, I can help with the pups if the need arises and I am a bit of blademaster, and a hand to hand combatant. If you don't mind I would like to linger till I figure out how to help, my armour hides all my skin so my race hopefully won't cause you any problems."
"You wish to repay me?" Ned asked, surprised.
Whilst the matter of her debt was obvious, the Stark had not imagined her outright declaring her intent to be so simple. He had imagined the matter would have to be solved through some, bargaining of some kind. Perhaps offering her a place to stay in exchange? That seemed reasonable.
Ned glanced at the ground and sighed, "Whilst your offer to help with the pups is appreciated, that would be rather difficult. Whilst I allowed them to stay within my House, it was only under the matter that my children would solely be responsible for them. They would have to take care of them by themselves, with no assistance of any kind."
It was a fair deal to the Stark. He trusted his kin, and they were a responsible lot. Hell, Jon's pup already seemed to take a liking to the raven haired youth, even if he looked rather confused about the whole thing.
Though, confusion wasn't uncommon when it concerned Jon.
"Why are you surprised?" Herian cocked her head to the side in a very wolf like gesture. "I have no coin to offer, all I have is my skill. I can teach and train, a position comes to mind but I doubt you have a same word or position in your culture." She tucked a stray red lock behind her ear, then she smiled. "I am glad you allowed your children to take the pups and your reasoning is reasonable."
"I just find that the lads need some responsibility," Ned explained, "And some pups will certainly do that. Course, it doesn't help that they are quite good at convincing me."
They certainly had a way with words, that's for sure. Perhaps they got it from their mother or something, or the elders of the past? Hard to guess which sometimes.
"Still, it is not the matter of your skills that I call into question, not at all." he told her, "Really, its more so your eagerness to do so. One does not offer themselves into the house of another without more than merely hoping to repay a debt. Its a rarity, though not one is would go unappreciated."
"Ah." Herian tapped her chin again. "How to put it, I was raised in a place where what you could do, is more important then were you come from. Hence why I offer my skill. Things like debts are taken very seriously, and from my understand of here. Kindness is a rare trait among humans, and should be responded with in kind. You saved my life, I would not really be willing to part ways with you till I've saved yours at least once." She scratched the back of her head. "I don't know, if I were home, I'd already be on a knee asking for permission to pledge myself to you. For you to be my Thane, I don't think you kind has a word that reflects what that means. Think of it as a life bond or pledge, were we at my home, and you a new Thane. I would serve as bodyguard as well as several other things but you already have those things so I won't go into them." Blush crept up into the elfs cheeks. "It probably seems silly to you."
"Not at all." Ned focused his gaze on the woman's face. The Stark's eyes narrowed at the twitches, the shifts, every little way her expression changed. His ears listened closely for a change in tone, a shift in her words. Anything that would help led to any uncertainties.
Lies, misleads, any sort of stretch of the truth she might have been spinning. There was none, not from what Ned could tell.
"All of that is fairly believable, not something I would consider 'silly'." he mused, "If that is how you feel about my involvement in your rescue, then who am I to deny how you feel? That would be rather rude if I were to say no."
Since his time in the North, Ned would say that he was good judge of character. People were rarely sly like snakes. Few like that could live in the frozen wastes of the north. They were a rarity, and often suffered the same fate as those who broke their oath.
Heads placed on a thick piece of wood, and a sliver of steel across the back of their necks.
Yet upon looking at the elf in front of him? The head of House Stark could not in a healthy mind describe her as such. Maybe it was how her eyes reminded him of the beast that played the part of his house's symbol? Either way, it was hard to ignore.
Herian smiled slightly. "Thank you for believing me, not many would." she dipped her head in a bow. "Will you be my Thane? I would be yours to command as you see fit."
The elf hopped off the bed leaving the pelt she had borrowed from it, and knelled before Ned. Her deep red hair tumbled over her shoulders, hiding most of her nudity.
As the woman knelled at his feet, Ned couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed. The man blinked down at the person in front of him, almost at a loss for words.
After a moment though, the Stark chuckled.
"Well, to be truthful, I'll admit that this is not what I had expected to happen when the lad came to fetch me." he mused, "But, how could I deny such a plea?"
The massive man raised his shoulders and straightened his footing. He uncrossed his arms and laid one of his gloves upon the hilt of the massive blade at his side. He did no grip it, but the leather glove rested on the very tip of the grand sword.
Herian said grinning. "Nor did I expect to get my butt handed to be my a Leshen."
"Ah, fair enough." Ned chuckled.
The Stark knew not of what a Leshen was aside Herian's description, but from what he could tell? His future vassal might want some revenge on such a lowly creature, like a hunt that had gotten away after a close call.
Either way, Ned swiftly unsheathed the blade at his side.
Ice. A massive great sword, large for even the most colossal blades. For most knights and warriors of steel, the weapon was impossibly large to wield. It was akin to wielding a massive piece of metal over your shoulder with all one's might. Yet, Ned lifted the blade as if nothing was wrong. Both hands wrapped themselves around the hilt and held it tight, as if it was a normal blade.
The lord of House Stark raised the ancient piece of steal and rested one side against Herain's left shoulder.
"Herian Indoril, child of Hircine. For I know not of the house you come from, nor the lands you hail from, you stand here now, offering thyself to my house."
Herian bowed her head forward, "That I do."
"Under the banner of House Stark, the Wolves of the North, the keepers of the Wall. Under such a banner, thyself would be called upon to stand by those of this house, to fight by the name, to uphold what is known and fight for what is thought of as right in the name of such a banner."
"Are you aware of this?"
The elf nodded once more, "That I do."
"Until thy death or until dismissed from service, your be bound to this banner, forevermore. A wolf among the North's banner, with weapons in hand, steel at the ready, and nerves as cold as the coming Winter."
"Do you vow under this banner? Forever more?"
"I do, my blade, fangs and claws are ours you wield."
Ned gave a sharp nod.
"Very well then."
Raising his blade, the Stark transferred the colossal sword from one of Herain's shoulders to the other. So swiftly that the blade was more of a brief wind, rather than a hunk of steal.
"Then, by the light of this sword, I declare thou under the banner of House Stark, a vassal to myself, and all those who go by the name Stark, in the North and all of Westeros."
"You have my thanks my Thane." She looked up at him with a smile.
Ned chuckled and sheathed his Valarian sword.
"Thane? A particular title. That might take some gettin accustomed to," he mused, "But, I'd imagine it won't be too much of a bother, especially coming from someone such as yourself."
Still bowing before her new lord, Herian had a hard time keeping a smile from appearing on her face. The elf opened her mouth to say something, but just as her lips parted-
Against the chamber's thick wooden door, a sudden knocking filled the room.
Herian shot up from the floor and whipped the fur from the bed.
"Enter." Ned called to Jon.
The youth came carefully through the doorway, a tray of bread and meats in his hands a large black cloak over an arm.
"Food!" Herian beamed grinned, her ears flicked forward, and took the tray from Jon and put it on the end of the bed. She blushed when she released she near shouted. "Sorry, but I am hungry." She hopped back up onto the bed and tore into a chicken drum.
Still standing in the doorway, Jon blinked.
The youth glanced down at his has and clutched the air. He hadn't even felt it as the tray was taken from it. For the young Stark, it was like the tray was there one moment, and the next? It was gone, just like that.
At his feet, Ghost didn't even seem to realize what had happened.
"Huh." he muttered, "Well then."
With the food matter taken care of, Jon lifted the large cloak off its arm and glanced at a nearby chair, "Well, I'll just place this over here, if that is alright?"
Herian nodded and tapped the tray and made an offering gesture to the two men, as she chewed on her piece of meat.
Ned raised his hand and kindly refused. He wasn't hungry.
Jon did much of the same, though his refusal came as a mere shake of the head. For some reason, the young Stark had a feeling he had missed out on a great deal of something. Though he wasn't sure if he wanted to know of WHAT it was.
Whilst the two Stark men respectfully refused the offering, a certain white pup ran up to the side of Herian's bed and looked up. The direwolf's tail wagged playfully and the little one's nose twitched at the smell.
Herian swallowed and grinned at the puppy and swept him up into her lap, the pup jumped off and gazed longingly at the food.
The elf chuckled and made a deep rumbled in her chest, picked up a smaller piece of chicken and offered it with another rumbled.
Ghost gave a happy yip and snatched it from her finger, the two wolves devoured the remaining meats and Herian polished off the bread. Ghost flopped on the bed his little belly expanded, the red head purred and petted the pups' tummy. "He is so cute!" She cooed at him.
Off to the side, Jon chuckled at the pup's affectionate display. "Well, maybe he'll take a better liking to her than me?"
Would be nice if Jon wouldn't be known as the litter of his family due to the tiny white pup that followed him around like lost child.
Whilst the boy watched, the lad's sprawling father marched over to the boy and slapped him on the shoulder. The sudden thud nearly sent Jon stumbling forward with his face smacking into the floor.
Came close though, much to Ned's amusement.
"Were it so easy," he chuckled, "But don't think the pup will be leaving you alone for too long, that's for certain."
"Your father is right pup. I can just talk to dear little Ghost here." She made a lower rumble and the pup got up and sat on the end of the bed and whined. "He wants you to pick him up." Herian said, getting up off the bed with cat like grace and swing the cloak around her shoulder, pull the hood up to mask her face. "Shall we go find my things? I'll need a guide, I have no idea where this place is in relation to where you found me."
"Ah of course," Ned nodded, she had mentioned needing to gather her things.
As he mused on the subject, Jon walked over to the bed and glanced down at the tiny pup. The tiny wolf sat at the very edge of the bed, like a small puff right at the end of the surface's sheets.
Ghost glanced up at its 'master' and tilted its head. Again, the tiny beast let out a whine. Just looking at the creature made Jon sigh. How his brothers and sister could deal with this creatures were beyond him.
He wouldn't admit it outright, after all, in a few years it would be almost unbelievable. But the tiny white pup? It was quite cute when it made such a face-
"Jon."
As if a sword had been pressed against the back of his neck, Jon shot up in an instant, "Yes?"
"Herian requires a guide, and whilst I would do such a task, there are matters here that must be taken care of." Ned told the boy, "Thus, I need you to accompany her to where she needs, understood?"
"Yes Sir." Jon said and picked up Ghost, the pup rubbed its head affectionately against Jons' shoulder, then the youth gestured to the door.
Herian pulled the hood down a bit more. "After you." She have a nod to her Thane, then set off with Jon. The sun was low in the sky and most of the household had retreaded indoors, the pair made their way to the stables. The ride back to the forest was a long one, Herian resisted the urge to put her head on a swivel as they went. Eventually they came to the spot where the Starks had found the dead deer.
"Wait here." Herian hopped off the horse. The elf disliked horses, though it would take an awful lot of convincing to get her to admit it. Herian ran over the edge of the road and Jon watched her scale up a tree, but jumping off of two beside it. He had never seen someone so fast before, how she got the purchase to make the jumps, he could only guess. Finally the elf snagged a large black bag out of the tree and dropped to the ground with a thud, only to move out of his view.
Jon figured she was getting dressed and looked away.
Several minutes later her voice, all but purring drew his gaze back. "Much better." When he turned to look he was stunned yet again.
The Dark Elf wore all black armour, it was perfectly crafted to her and hugged every curve, the plates over her chest curved to meet in the back, thin red lines flowed through the armour, following each plate. The armour did not disguise that the wearer was female, but nor did it flaunt it, the gauntlets ended in sharp claws, the rest of the suit followed the same design. Lastly her helm, was less of a helm and more of a mask. It fit closely with her head and hid all of her skin, the 'face' of the helm mirror hers closely, only cementing the idea that the armour had been made special for her. He could see the blood red hair of hers tumbled out of the bottom.
The elfs weapons made him pause even more, he counted four blades, two on her hips of a make he did not recognize, and two on her back much smaller if the hilts was anything to go by. Lastly was the composite bow also on her back, it was all sharp lines and sweeping curves, with a matching quiver. All the weapons were made out of the same black metal, all had veins of red that glowed softly.
"That wouldn't protect you from the Leshen?" Jon asked eyes wide.
"It slows me down to much, its good stuff but in the Leshen manged to root me. Which it probably would have, then I would be completely dead after the encounter, rather then just mostly dead." She opened the much smaller bag and pulled out a large swath of grey cloth and set about wrapping it over her armour till it disguised her chest and most of the amour. Then pulled out another and wrapped it around her hips; till it over everything to the top of her boots, while still leaving her legs free, then she picked up the cloak she had been given and arranged it to be under her weapons on her back, lastly she set the bag as it still had a few items in it over her chest.
"There." She said with a grin Jon could hear.
"Much better." Jon agreed and had to laugh at the little jumping hop she had to do, to get into the saddle.
"Oh shuss. We don't have horses in my homeland. I can win a race on a Guar, but I'm hopeless with a horse. When I want to get somewhere fast in a hurry I just call out my wolf." The horse shifted under, the elf slid forward in the saddle. "Woow." She patted the horse neck.
"You did fine on the way out." Jon said.
"I was putting on a brave face." Herian admitted.
"Do you need lessons?" Jon asked.
"Pretty please." Herian mewed as the horse shifted again.
They way back was much slower going then the way there, though they did have there steeds going a slow trout rather then a walk. Little did they know, Ned watched the pair come back over the plains, and had to smile as the elf fell from the saddle. Ghost jumping around the pair then ON the fallen elf. Jon would say a few things and she get back up and try again, their laughter filled the courtyard when they arrived.
For those that do not know, equivalent term are Lord (Jarl) Thane (Hand/Helper of Jarl) and Housecarl. However, Herian is not recognizing Ned as a Jarl, or addressing him as such. She did not describe her role as a Housecarl because he does not need one. By addressing him as Thane and herself as a bodyguard, she is purposely excluding herself from the hierarchy of King. She is not just a vassal to Stark and therefore the King, she is a separate force.