DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES OR ANY ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS
Chapter 5
Austin dashed forward, ignoring the screaming exhaustion from his limbs. He brought his blade in a wide sweep at his opponent's feet before reversing the momentum to aim at the young man's neck. His adversary brought his blade up just in time for the clang of metal to ring out across the courtyard. Austin did not hide that he was impressed with the young man's speed.
Not many of Lord Stark's guards could hope to last as long as this man had. Austin should know, as he'd spent the last four years beating each of them in repeated sparring matches. Austin was Ser Rodrik's prized pupil, though he'd barely had to teach Austin anything. His son Jory, on the other hand, was something of a different matter. The lad had a difficult time picking up on some of the subtle nuances that Austin seemed to know from the very beginning.
At six and a half feet tall, Austin towered over the smaller Jory, who stood just under six feet. That was working in Austin's favor, as he had both the reach advantage, as well as the strength advantage. Not to mention that he was simply more skilled than Jory. Despite the gap in skill, the two of them had grown to be steadfast friends during the Dayne's stay at Winterfell. Austin sparred with Jory more than any other man in the castle. There was only one person that Austin enjoyed sparring with more than Jory, and that was Lord Stark himself. The veteran Lord always took Austin to his limits, as the young Dayne, despite all of his natural skill and talent, was still fairly inexperienced when it came to real combat.
Austin let his blade down, plunging the point into the ground before sitting on one of the benches to rest. He wiped the sheen of cold sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve as Jory sat down next to him.
"Well fought," Austin acknowledged.
Jory chuckled. "You getting old? You seemed a bit slower today."
Austin shook his head. "I don't know what it is, but I feel distracted today. In the back of my mind, there's a sense of impending danger, though it could just be my dreams."
As if on queue, as soon as Austin had finished his sentence, a guardsman rode into the castle. The northman didn't even wait for his horse to come to a complete stop before he vaulted off of it and rushed into the main hall of Winterfell.
Jory looked Austin dead in the eye. "I don't think it was your dreams."
Austin agreed, and the two young warriors quickly rose to follow the man into the hall. Ser Rodrik was already present, along with Lord Stark, Lady Catelyn, and Maester Luwin. It seemed that Lord Stark was in the middle of trying to calm down the ranting guardsman.
"Slow down, gather yourself," the Lord of Winterfell said with a raised hand. He waited for a few seconds as the man took a few deep breaths before continuing. "Now, say again."
"My Lord, the Greyjoys have risen up against the crown. They've burnt the Lannister fleet at Lannisport, and have besieged Seagard, though Lord Mallister is confident he can repel the ironborn."
Lord Stark nodded along, his signature look of grave seriousness always present on his face. "What else?"
"My Lord, King Robert is calling all of his banners to crush the rebellion once and for all."
"No, for the last time, no," Lord Stark declared. "I refuse to allow you to participate in this war."
Austin was in the midst of following Lord Stark around Winterfell as the Warden of the North made his plans for the coming march. The man was evidently trying to spare Austin from the war, but he wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Lord Stark, I mean no offense, but I am a Lord in my own right. I do not need your permission to do anything. Granted, I am a guest in your home, but I am not your son. I do not wish to go without your blessing, but I will if I have to," Austin said forcefully as they passed Winterfell's crypt.
Eddard halted in his tracks, staring directly up at Austin. He ran a hand through his hair before letting out a great sigh. "Very well. You may accompany me as a member of my household guard. Meaning you will not stray from my side during the battles to follow."
Austin did not attempt to hide his joy. A wide grin spread across his face. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. A chance to prove himself worthy of his father. Only time would tell if he would have the makings of a swordsman such as Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.
The seventeen year old Lord Dayne bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I agree to your terms, Lord Stark."
The Stark patriarch simply shook his head to himself before turning on his heel to attend his other matters. Austin turned the opposite way before practically sprinting to Edric's room. He found the young Lord of Starfall packing his bags. "What are you doing?" Austin asked, a bit confused at his cousin's actions.
"I'm going to fight, what do you think?" Edric retorted, as if that was obvious.
Austin shook his head. "Absolutely not," he disagreed.
Edric looked up at him with determined eyes. "And why not, exactly?"
"Because you're twelve, and you're the future of our house. Who's the rightful lord after you?"
"You are," Edric fired back.
Austin shook his head once more. "You know I don't want it. Governing a castle isn't my destiny. I'm a fighter, Edric. It's in my blood. Aye, you are skilled for your age, but you've been groomed by Lord Stark to rule over your subjects, not run off to fight in wars you don't need to fight."
Edric's head dropped at that. He knew his older cousin was right, he just hated feeling left out all the time. Austin reached down and placed a comforting hand on Edric's shoulder.
"Hey. Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it," he assured.
Edric nodded. "Alright, but I'm for sure going in the next war. I'll be old enough then."
Austin chuckled before lazily nodding his assent as he gave his cousin a hug. He knew that the heir to Starfall would be safe here, so he had no qualms about leaving him in the care of the Starks.
King Robert I Baratheon was excited to say the least. It'd been six years since he'd been in a battle. Six long years of nothing but council meetings and ass-licking. Give Robert a warhammer and a foe any day over all of the political nonsense. War was Robert's element, and he'd been out of it for too long.
"Your Grace, we've just received word that Lord Stark has called his banners and will begin the march South. Estimates say that he should reach Lannisport within the next month or two," Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers on the Small Council, informed.
"Good," boomed Robert. His signature deep voice was that of a battlefield commander. It was a voice that inspired his men to carry him to victory in many battles during Robert's Rebellion, as they were calling it. "Finally, a proper scrap. Varys, send word to Stannis. Tell him he is to smash the Greyjoy fleet with what ships he has. And send word to Renly as well, I want the full strength of the Stormlands outside the walls within the fortnight."
"At once, Your Grace," the Spider bowed and hurried from the room.
Robert stood from his seat on the Iron Throne and walked towards the window, peering out over the vast expanse of King's Landing. War brought more people into the cities because they believed it was safer inside walls. That was true, in part, though the crowds tended to become hostile, keeping the City Watch busy at all times.
"So that's it, then? You're off to war again?" asked a voice from behind Robert. Turning, he saw the elderly form of Jon Arryn, his Hand of the King, and the Warden of the East.
"Aye, that's it, Jon. You know how much I crave war. I leave you to govern the realm while I go kill those ironborn sons of whores," Robert stated proudly.
Jon Arryn shook his head with an amused smirk. "I don't suppose I could talk you out of it?"
"Have you ever been able to?" Robert laughed.
Jon rested his case. It was clear he was getting nowhere fast. He gave a small bow to the King. "As you wish, Your Grace. I will rule the Kingdoms to the best of my ability until your return."
"You rule them anyways," Robert stated plainly.
"I suppose that's true enough," chuckled the Lord of the Vale.
Austin awoke to the sounds of many boots hitting the ground outside. Quickly rising from his bed, he donned his armor and cloak. His armor was unique only to him. Lord Stark had it made especially to fit Austin. It was a simple steel breastplate in the pattern not dissimilar to the Knights of the Vale, but it had the sigil of House Dayne in the center of the chest. Additionally, there were two boiled black leather faulds that hung down on either side, protecting his hips and thighs. His cloak was fashioned after the Stark cloaks, a simple long, black cloak with grey wolf fur on the shoulders, giving the illusion that Austin's shoulder-length white hair was longer than it was. Austin rounded it out with thick black leather boots and gloves as well as small steel epaulettes on his shoulders and steel bracers on his forearms.
Austin preferred to move around and be mobile, so he was not nearly as weighed down as the other lords. It was all a matter of preference. Austin relied on speed and agility when sword fighting as opposed to raw power like Greatjon Umber, for example. Austin had only met the man once, but the seven foot frame of the Umber lord dwarfed everyone in the same room as him.
The young Dayne stepped out into the Winterfell courtyard to find the men of House Stark going about their preparations. Many of the great houses of the North had been arriving each day, with the last of them slated to arrive this morning. The Karstarks and Mormonts were the only two houses of major note that had yet to arrive. The Mormonts likely because they had to first leave their island, then traverse the Wolfswood. The Karstarks took so long most likely due to their sheer distance from Winterfell.
While most of the houses would gather at Winterfell, there were some that would meet them on the road south, such as House Manderly, who would join the army at Moat Cailin. But tonight there was to be a feast, something to boost all of the men's spirits before the long march and the battles to come.
While Lord Stark had agreed that he would greet Lord Karstark personally with his wife, he had tasked Austin with greeting Lord Jorah Mormont personally. The Mormonts of bear Island may be a small house, but they are one of great pride, and are prone to great anger when insulted, as befitting a people who take a bear as their sigil.
Austin found himself milling about the courtyard in the meantime. He would like to be training, though it would be rude to greet a lord in a state of sweat and exhaustion after a bout of sword training. After what felt like an eternity, the horn atop the gate was sounded, and a guard called out.
"Riders approaching!"
"Do they bear a sigil?" Austin called to the man.
"Yes, my lord. The bear of House Mormont."
Austin nodded, and took up his position near the gate. After a few minutes, a small band of riders, flanked by a contingent of footsoldiers, entered the courtyard of Winterfell. In total, there couldn't have been more than a hundred and fifty men.
At the head of the column, a rider dismounted. He wore a bear sigil breastplate of blackened steel, and was broad in the shoulders, with blonde hair brushed back over his head. He was shorter than Austin, but the young Dayne had no doubt in his mind that this was a warrior.
"Lord Jorah?" he asked, approaching the man.
"Aye," the lord nodded. "Who are you?"
"Austin Dayne, my lord. I've been sent by Lord Stark to greet you while he prepares for the march ahead, as well as the feast that is to take place later tonight," Austin relayed.
"Very well," Jorah nodded, turning back to his men. "Get them set up in the camp, I'll send word with further instruction later."
"At once, my lord."
As Jorah's men turned back the way they came, no doubt headed for the massive encampment that had formed around the walls of Winterfell, Austin motioned for the Lord of Bear Island to follow him.
"You are the son of Ser Arthur Dayne, are you not?"
"I am."
"We heard tale that a pair of Daynes had taken up residence in Winterfell. Seems they were anything but rumor," Jorah nodded with recognition.
"Aye," Austin returned the nod. "Though the pair of us are seldom seen together. I get the pleasure of training with the sword, while my cousin, Edric, is instructed on how to rule a castle."
"I suppose your goal is to be as good a swordsman as your father was, eh?" Jorah asked with a small chuckle.
Austin allowed a small smile himself. "Aye. Though most men tell me it is an impossible task."
Jorah let out a hearty laugh. "Doesn't stop you from trying now does it?"
The young Dayne smirked to himself. "Well, when you've beaten every man in the castle ten times over, save Lord Stark, you must be doing something right."
Jorah again laughed. "Bold words. I might have to test their truth for myself some day."
"I would be honored, my lord," Austin said with a bow of his head. "Though I have a feeling that the strength of the Mormonts would have me on my knees after only a few blows."
"Where has your bluster gone, young Austin? Only moments ago, you were boasting of your skill," Jorah teased, his eyes betraying his words. "Confidence is key among swordsmen, though do not let it reach arrogance. I learned that lesson long ago."
Austin silently nodded, thanking the Bearlord for his advice. As the pair walked, they exchanged notes about the weather, as well as the task ahead. Austin left the Bearlord at the entrance to his assigned chambers, with promises that the pair of them would speak more at the feast that night.
"You are welcome company amongst all of these sullen old men, Austin Dayne," were Jorah's parting words.
As Austin exited the keep, he let out a small sigh. All of the ceremony and proper appearance was taking a toll on him. Though Lord Jorah did seem different than the rest. He certainly had one of the better senses of humor amongst the northmen, apart from the Greatjon, of course.
With his breath leading the way in the cold air, Austin moved to find somewhere to rest before he was to be kept awake the entire night.
The feast was a spectacle like Austin hadn't seen since the Great Tournament at Harrenhal. Long tables of ironwood had been brought in, as many as possible while leaving room to walk between. Even then, a man had to turn sideways to step around another. Thankfully, the largest men in the room were seated at the head of the table.
Lord Stark sat in the center, his loyal bannermen surrounding him. Lady Catelyn had volunteered to sit at the lower table with the children, allowing all the high lords their seats together. On either side of him sat his brother Benjen and Rickard Karstark, with Greatjon Umber directly across from him. Next to the Greatjon was Jorah Mormont and Roose Bolton. The rest of the notable Northern lords were further down the table. The only Chief Houses not seated at the table seemed to be the Manderlys, who would link up with the army when it reached the Neck.
Austin could see that while Lord Stark was enjoying being in the company of his bannermen, many of whom were good friends, he also could see the guarded expression behind the Stark's eyes. Ned was no doubt looking ahead to the war, even as he drank and laughed with his lords.
Austin himself was seated at the table to the far left of the hall, one reserved for minor lords and brothers of the chief houses. Robbett Glover sat across from Austin, while Ser Rodrik sat to his left. Smalljon Umber, as people had taken to calling him, was seated nearby as well. Story went that he hated that nickname, as he himself was a giant of a man, standing the same height as Austin, if not taller. But when his father was a hulking mass of muscle that stood seven feet tall, the nickname seemed apt.
Austin laughed with the others for as long as he was able, stealing glances over to Edric, who looked to be enjoying himself with Lord Stark's children. Edric had particularly grown close to Robb and Jon, the pair looking up to him like a big brother. Robb sat next to Edric, while Jon was nowhere to be found. Lady Catelyn hated the boy with every fiber of her being, that much was certain, so she would not be seen at the same table with him, let alone be seen with him at a feast.
Austin lingered, downing a few cups of wine before excusing himself to the yard. He breathed in, the cold northern air stinging the inside of his nose, but it was a welcome change from the scents of sweat and smoke, as well as the shouts and calls for servant girls to show their tits.
Austin qickly turned his head to the side when he heard sharp clacks and smacks. As he approached, Austin caught sight of who was making all the noise. Young Jon was using his wooden practice sword, striking at the dummy that stood unyielding in front of him.
Austin chuckled to himself. "Taking all your anger out on the only one you can, eh?"
Jon whirled around, his wooden sword gripped in both hands, pointed towards the intrusion. Austin smirked, holding his hands up. "I surrender."
Jon dropped the sword to his side and sighed, lightly kicking the dummy with his foot. "It isn't fair! I can't even sit at the table with my brothers!"
Austin knelt beside Jon, his hand resting on the boy's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Jon. None of it is. A child can't choose who they're born to. Believe me, sometimes I wish I could have been born to anyone else, but that's not the way the gods decided it should be."
"But you have the name!" Jon protested. "I'm just a Snow."
Austin's face softened. "Which also means nothing is expected of you. You're free to do anything you want in this world, Jon. You could be the Master at Arms of Wintefell someday, or a ranger of the Night's Watch, or a knight of the Kingsguard. You don't have duties expected of you."
Jon's eyes brightened at those words. "I've always wanted to be a knight!"
"Me too," Austin chuckled. "Maybe we'll both be knights someday, would you like that?"
Jon nodded quickly, a wide grin now having spread across his face. Austin smiled, glad he was able to cheer the young boy up. "Well, if you're to be a knight, you'll need a much better sword swing than that. How about I start training twice a week with you once we return from the Iron Islands?"
Jon's eyes widened. He may be young, but he'd seen Austin beat Ser Rodrik and the rest of the guardsmen dozens of times. Even the young boy that he was knew how good Austin was. The bastard boy nodded again, his black hair shifting with each one.
Austin allowed another small smile as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Good. But for now, it's late, and you should be getting to bed. Come on."