I live!
I am referencing Joy Aileen's Skyrim songs in this chapter. I cannot recommend highly enough to go take a look at her channel on Youtube, as well as on , Spotify, Itunes and Twitch. She's a phenomenal artist.
The subdued hubbub in the Great Hall stilled as the heavy doors swung open to admit the Starks and the royal procession. Lord Stark escorted the queen between the two rows of tables and up to the raised dais where the two families would be sitting during the banquet. King Robert followed them with Lady Stark, his eyes glancing across the various serving girls who were laying out the platters of meat and vegetables. The children followed closely after them, with the final pair being the queen's brothers, almost a study in opposites between the two; Jaime Lannister, the tall, handsome warrior; and Tyrion Lannister, the short, hideous dwarf.
They both carried the stain of dishonour though, at least according to the staff of Winterfell, one killed his mother at birth, a drunkard and hedonist; while the other stabbed his king in the back, killing the man he was sworn to protect. As Benjen strode up towards the high table, Landon found that he could begrudge the elder Lannister brother little for his actions. Much like the gnarled and battle worn leader of the Greybeards; he had turned against a liege beholden to madness and bloodshed, and in doing so, had ended an atrocious reign of terror. The only black mark against the man was that he hadn't drawn his blade sooner.
The younger brother was more complex; his birth and body were no fault of his own, though Landon doubted the man would have survived his childhood if he had been born in Skyrim, the land was harsh, and though his deformity should not hold sway amongst Men and Mer, nature held no sympathy. His other epithets were far more damning, a wastrel and a drunk, according to the warriors of Winterfell. He wouldn't be out of place in the Imperial City, or Wayrest, but amongst the hardened men and women of the North, he stood out like a sore thumb.
Benjen was the last of the nobles to enter the hall, giving a smile to his nephew, Jon, and a nod towards the three adventurers before taking his place on the high table. The feast began in earnest once the high lords had been seated, and the hall soon filled with chatter, laughter and the raised voices of the bards that Lord Stark had hired for the occasion. Landon helped himself to a slab of roasted pork, while M'rissi hissed and spat at the numerous hunting dogs and hounds that prowled the common half of the hall.
The three adventurers were seated together, close to the noble table, as befitted their apparent roles. The two rows of tables were split between the royal party and the natives of the North, with the adventurers sitting along the northern table, looking across at the senior retainers, bodyguards and squires of the royal family. A particularly grizzled and scarred man was sat across from Landon, half his face covered in a wide, gnarled burn scar with the repulsive blisters and pustules that such an injury brings. The man reached forward and snatched up another chunk of pork from the same place as Landon, ignoring the chatter around him as he started on his meal.
The meal was as hearty as any that could be found in Jorrvaskr, and Landon felt some of the strain from the last few days easing as the familiar atmosphere settled around him. Men and women laughing and talking amongst themselves while simple music filled the air, along with the scent of dogs. Unlike Jorrvaskr though, at least this had a visible cause, he thought to himself as he watched young Jon pass a roasted fowl under the table to his direwolf. Even Cae seemed to be enjoying herself, she had positioned herself beside Maester Luwin, and the two were engaging in a lively conversation about the higher mysteries, the stars, and the history of Westeros.
He jerked out of his reverie as M'rissi clambered up onto her seat, a pilfered lute in hand from a nearby minstrel. Several empty mugs beside her plate explained her sudden boldness as she sprang into song.
"Alduin's wings, they did darken the sky,
His roar fury's fire, his claws sharpened scythes.
Men ran and they cowered, and they fought and they died.
They burned and they bled as they issued their cries.
We need saviours to free us from Alduin's rage,
Heroes on the field of this new war to wage.
And if Alduin wins, man is gone from this world,
Lost in the shadow of the black wings unfurled.
But then came the Tongues on that terrible day.
Steadfast as winter, they entered the fray.
And all heard the music of Alduin's doom,
The sweet song of Skyrim, sky-shattering Thu'um.
And so the Tongues freed us from Alduin's rage,
Gave the gift of the Voice, ushered in a new Age!
And if Alduin's eternal, then eternity's done,
For his story is over and the dragons are gone."
The Khajiit looked extremely pleased with herself as she took a bow, and King Robert's booming laugh echoed down the hall, "A song about killing dragons? It's been damned near twenty years, and not one bard in King's Landing has had the balls. Ha!" He raised a greasy hand and gestured towards M'rissi, "You got another in you, girl?"
Landon quickly rose to leave as M'rissi broke into song again, this time attempting The Last Dragonborn. He spotted Jon storming towards the exit as well, Ghost at his heels.
"I heard them speak of someone born strong."
The heavy doors of the great hall muffled M'rissi's voice as Landon stepped outside, though a few notes and words still echoed through the open windows behind him. Jon was a few paces ahead of him, wiping at his face with his sleeve, while his other hand rested on Ghost's back.
"Jon? Are you well?" Landon enquired as he took a few steps away from the doorway, the cold night wind quickly wicking away the sweat from the hall.
"I'm fine!" The boy snapped, spinning halfway around as he lowered his sleeve from reddened eyes, his body stiffening as he realised who was speaking to him, "M-My apologies, ser. The smoke from the fires have taken me quite ill." His words prompted a quiet whine from Ghost, who nudged the boy's leg with his head.
"Such events aren't for everyone. Especially when a man's drunken friend has decided to sing."
"A man who will save us all. He will shout, kill and slice them."
"She has a wonderful voice," Jon offered, with an unsteady wave of his arm towards the hall; "She sounds as good as the trained musicians."
"She trained at the Bard's College of Solitude, I would hope so, Lady Aileen spent a good deal of time teaching her," Landon replied with a smile, "Back in our homeland, I didn't travel with her that often, she spent much of her time living in Skyrim's capital city. Carerane even less. She much preferred her studies at the College of Winterhold to life on the road."
"You haven't said much about your past so far," Jon noted, alcohol adding bluntness to his words, "What was it like?" The boy leant against the railings that run up the short flight of stairs leading to the great hall, watching Landon for his reply.
"I come from the imperial province of Cyrodiil, the central region of the Third Empire. My parents were soldiers in the Imperial Legion; the Legion of Chorrol, to be precise. About a quarter century ago, the Third Empire was attacked by the Aldmeri Dominion. My parents died in the fighting, and I joined the Legion soon after the war ended; got married, had a daughter. Then the northern province, Skyrim, broke down in civil war after a rebel killed the current High King, so my unit was deployed north to counter the insurrection." Landon paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself as painful memories came to the surface.
"It was hard there. The rebels were good fighters, and they knew the terrain, things got worse when Alduin and the dragons returned; entire towns burned, legions scattered, and villagers turned to banditry to survive."
"The Hero is the last Dovahkiin. He will fight 'til his death."
"You killed Alduin, right? You said you ended the Dragon Crisis before, during the trip into the forest." The boy said, recalling the gruesome journey back that day.
"I defeated him, I didn't kill him. He's not something that can be killed. Alduin the World-Eater is a fragment of the god Akatosh himself, the one destined to consume the world to make way for the next. His presence in this time went against his duty, he sought to control and dominate, not to simply do his duty. The best dragon scholars of my lands believe that he will return when it is truly his time now, rather than whenever he wishes."
The strange explanation caused Jon to pause for a few moments to think things through, "So he's going to come back one day? To destroy everything?"
Landon's solemn nod did little to quell his anxiety, "Yes. When it is the world's time to end. The world doesn't seem particularly unhealthy at the moment, so I don't think we should burden ourselves overmuch with that." The man paused for a moment, before continuing cautiously, "You seemed out of sorts when you left the hall. Was something said?"
The boy shook his head by way of a reply, "I plan to join the Night's Watch, Lady Thaoran," He paused to correct himself, "Lady Cae... Has been tutoring me as best as she can, though I fear I am a poor student; I wished to learn more of what she showed us in the forest."
"I am interested in that too, as a matter of fact." Landon's hand dropped to the hilt of a non-existent blade as a voice called to the pair of them from further in the courtyard.
"Laas," A quick murmur revealed the source of the voice, the younger Lannister brother sat atop the stables roof, legs dangling over the edge with a bottle in hand. "Lord Stark, two of his boys, his ward, a host of guards, and the three new tutors head out into the woods and come back bloodied with six dead soldiers."
Landon responded as he saw Jon tense beside him, "We encountered a group of Wildlings that had crossed the wall and decided to probe deeper south. Happenstance and poor fortune took us into their path. They were dealt with, but casualties were inevitable."
"Wildlings and bandits, are such things common in the North?" The dwarf replied with a slight smile on his face, "It is a poor Lord who cannot defend his people."
An ugly snarl twisted Jon's face as he snapped back at the Lannister, "Lord Stark cares more for his people than any southern lord!"
"Did I offend you?" The man asked lightly, "Sorry. Dwarves don't have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head." He grinned, "I do have another question though, what would have taken the lord from his castle and into the dangerous woods? What this Lady Cae has to teach must be truly remarkable. Tell me, is she the one with the tail, or the one who is a more golden lady than my dear sister?"
Jon's anger was extinguished in confusion and mild panic as he looked towards Landon for assistance. The older man obliged quickly, "Lady Carerane Thaoran is the one with golden skin who sat beside the Maester; she tutors the Stark children in foreign politics, as well as techniques for rough living; Lord Stark is intent on his children being able to handle any problems they encounter, and Lady Cae is the most skilled survivalist I have ever encountered, she can start a campfire as if she had a hand of flame." He smiled slightly at his own joke before continuing, "Lady M'rissi Ri'virr teaches archery to those children who are interested. She proved her skills well to Lord Stark in dealing with those brigands. She honed her art in the Shadow Lands and is like a daughter to me."
Tyrion nodded once in reply, "And your own name, Ser? I know of you from drunken chatter, but it is always best to hear it from the man himself. I believe my brother has already approached you for a spar on the morrow. From what I hear, it promises to be quite the spectacle."
Landon's eyes widened slightly in surprise, "I am Landon Dovahkiin, I don't believe I set a specific time with your brother, but if he has decided on the morrow, I suppose I will have to oblige him." The dwarf's sly smile drew out Landon's own for a moment, before the small man quickly announced, "I have decided that I am not nearly drunk enough, would you two be so kind as to accompany me back inside? I am sure we can find a place to sit and share our tales."
Landon gave the dwarf a nod, "A reasonable proposition, Jon?" The boy nodded as well, and the three headed back towards the warmth of the great hall.
Inside, M'rissi appeared to have been called to one of the higher daises, sitting alongside the children and engaged in an animated discussion with the younger Stark daughter, with the golden-haired princess following the conversation closely.
Cae's debate with Maester Luwin seemed to have advanced as well, with several tomes open on the table between them. The pair seemed to be getting on well, much to the displeasure of the members of the royal household around them, who were being slowly squeezed away as platters and trays were pushed aside to make more room for the books.
Tyrion led the two of them to a quieter table near the bottom of the hall, sitting alongside the king's servants as he claimed a large tankard for himself. Landon and Jon did likewise, with Jon's direwolf Ghost slinking up beside them and lying on the floor beneath the table. "So!" Tyrion clapped his hands together, "What was this Imperial Legion you spoke of?"
It was early when the sun breached the walls of Winterfell, scaling the sturdy fortifications to flow into the courtyards and windows and awaken its residents. The three adventurers were amongst the first awake, even beating many of the servants as they set about their morning tasks, maintaining their equipment, and for Landon: preparing for his coming spar in the training grounds.
The rapid-fire thud of metal on wood greeted Rodrik as he entered the courtyard to begin preparing for the morning's training with the Stark children; and he caught sight of Landon hammering one of the older training dummies, blade lashing out alongside strikes from his shield, feet and knees. "You're here early, worried about Ser Jaime?" The battered Master-At-Arms grinned at the panting adventurer. "I needed to practice with normal weapons, my hesitation against you in our spar was a weakness to be exploited, if I'm going to be having more of these friendly bouts, I need to remind myself how to fight when my life isn't on the line." Landon replied once he had caught his breath.
The older warrior nodded, "A strong goal; but did you not have such matches in your homeland? You seem particularly uncertain when it comes to battles to first blood." Landon shook his head, "They exist, and I have sparred many times in my past, but not consistently in at least a decade, since I was with the Legion; after that… Skyrim is a harsh place, my refinement came from duelling with bandits, invaders and worse. There are a few I sparred with even then, but they used unconventional fighting. Lady Serana, for example, would keep her distance and assail me with spellcraft, using a conjured weapon to fend me off when I closed, discarding it quickly when Kren wore it down."
"Your land is far different to this one, the worst you'll find here are the wildlings and the Ironborn, anything worse can be found in Old Nan's tales, not in reality. Benjen claims you fought wights beyond the wall; I don't doubt his words, but an old warrior is set in his ways." Rodrik said as he set about preparing for the day; dragging out a few more training dummies.
"Skyrim, and Nirn as a whole, is a place filled with dangers, just as much as it is filled with wonders. It is easy to focus on the beasts and monsters that stalk the shadows; and overlook the beautiful and wonderful. The city of Solitude is built on a great sea arch, towering hundreds of feet over its own harbour; while the Arcane University in the Imperial City brings forth new magics and spellcraft to ease the lives of imperial citizens every year, from spells to bring the rains to magical fertilisers to assist in the growing of valuable crops. It has its dangers; dragons, trolls, vampires and more, but its people are strong, they have conquered their fears, and driven them back to the shadows." The dragonborn spoke softly, but firmly as he stepped back from the battered dummy. He flashed the Master-At-Arms a quick grin, "That is not to say that I haven't fought my fair share of monsters though. You never quite forget the first time you accidentally stumble into a Hagraven nest and spot the old crone hurling a fireball your way."
The old warrior laughed, clapping a hand to Landon's shoulder, "I should like to think I will never have to deal with whatever that results in." His eyes flicked up over Landon's shoulder, "The challenger approaches, I see." Quickly turning around, Landon caught sight of the older Lannister brother stepping out of the Keep, looking fresh and well-rested as he turned to head towards the training grounds.
Landon brought his blade up in salute as the man approached, prompting a nod in reply. "I was just warming myself up; I wasn't expecting you for some time yet." The man gave him a tight smile as he replied, "The King heard about the bout, and found himself quite interested, we will likely have an audience shortly; even my dear sister wishes to see the spectacle; I'd hoped to keep it somewhat lowkey; I doubt Lord Stark will be pleased with his combat tutor being shown up so." Jaime's tone carried no mockery, but the arrogance was obvious as Landon frowned slightly, "I foresee no problems in that regard, Ser Jaime. Though I fear that the dirt and dust may be difficult to wash out of your cloak."
The Kingsguard smiled slightly at the mild taunt, "We will have to see how the bout goes, I can count the number of warriors who can best me on one hand, and most of them have passed to the gods."
The doors of the Keep cracked open again as the spectators began to emerge, ranging from the royal family and their hosts, Carerane and M'rissi, and a number of the lesser nobles from the royal party. At the sight of them, the three warriors set about organising the sparring field for the bout.
"Knock the golden lad on his arse!" The king roared as the two men took their positions, M'rissi's song had won all three of the foreigners a good amount of favour with the hungover monarch, and his Queen struck him with a fierce glare, which he promptly ignored as he leaned forwards to watch the match.
Landon was wearing his usual armour, complemented with the heavy dragonbone shield that normally accompanied Kren, which was instead replaced with a simple but solid arming sword. The Lannister was wearing his white plate mail, though the heavy cloak was hung beside the spectators; in hand he carried an ornate longsword, keeping both hands on the weapon.
Rodrik stood between the two combatants, and looked between them and the spectators, "The bout will continue until first blood, or until one of the two of you yield. Are you ready?" Landon nodded his assent, swiftly followed by Jaime; "Alright! Begin!" The Master-At-Arms quickly stepped back, and Landon darted forwards immediately.
Jaime reacted instantly, stepping back and to the side, bringing his blade around to probe at Landon's defences, but his blade was easily deflected by a shove from Landon's shield, throwing the Lannister's blade to the side, and forcing him to retreat another step to avoid a shallow jab from the warrior.
Undeterred, Jaime circled around the side of his armoured opponent, his blade weaving in and out with consummate skill, but each jab and probe was turned back by the older warrior. His concealing draconic helm watched Jaime constantly as the two circled and fought, not once dropping to watch his weapon or footwork, but still reacting flawlessly to each strike.
A step forward brought Landon's shorter blade into range, and he swung a heavy sideways slash at the Lannister, moving up to keep the pressure on as his opponent stepped back in an attempt to evade the blade. Jaime brought up his longsword to deflect the blow, and the clatter of metal sent both weapons recoiling back, and Landon twisted his body to repeat the swing, forcing Jaime to do the same, repeating the clash. The power behind the strike sent painful vibrations through Jaime's hands, and he withdrew quickly as Landon prepared for a third swing.
"There aren't many who can keep the Kingslayer on the backfoot," Sir Barristan murmured from his place next to the King. "True words," Robert agreed, "Where did you find this tutor, Ed? He looks like a Dornish, talks like a Tyrell, and fights like Dayne!"
"He arrived with Benjen two weeks past," Eddard replied, drawing upon their agreed story, "He and his fellows travelled to the Wall to look through its archives and libraries, and came with him to Winterfell for the same."
A metallic ring of steel drew their attention back to the match, Jaime had hooked his blade across Landon's, locking both weapons and drawing him close as he tried to use his leverage to either rip it from the warrior's hand, or throw him to the ground. His efforts proved futile as the Dragonborn drove his knee into the Lannister's armoured ribs as he began to leave the ground. Jaime staggered back with a clipped cry, only barely bringing his weapon around in time to deflect the follow up blow to his legs.
Queen Cersei looked on impassively as the battle went on, but her grip on the hand of Prince Joffrey was bone-white, and the boy had long since lost interest in the match as he sought to extract his hand from his mother's grip. Princess Marcella and Prince Tomin were cheering on their uncle, while the Stark children called out encouragement to the foreign warrior.
The last exchange had clearly left Jaime winded, as he recoiled from another vicious strike, backing away to gain time to regain his composure. Landon barrelled forwards after him, his shield coming up to bat the Lannister's defending blade aside before slamming into the staggered man's chest, pitching him onto his back amidst the dirt. Landon's sword rose up smoothly, pointed at his opponent's throat as cries of shock burst from the crowd. "Yield!" He barked, slamming a foot down on Jaime's blade as he attempted to rise. After a moment, the man nodded, and the Dragonborn relaxed, sheathing the blade in one smooth motion before offering his hand.
With a nod, Jaime took hold of the hand, using it to pull himself back to his feet as his sister left the stands and bustled towards him as fast as her gown would allow. She quickly pulled him away from the foreign warrior, checking him over for injuries as the King and Lord Stark made their way over at a more sedate pace.
"A Dayne for sure! We should get Dawn into your hand, see what you can manage with that!" Robert roared, clapping his hands down on Landon's shoulders. The smaller man almost staggers from the unexpected strength behind the gesture, "No noble blood in me, I'm afraid, my family hails from a far distant place." He replied to the King, "My own blades, Kren and Dawnbreaker, are perfect for my needs."
The King looks between Landon and Eddard, "That isn't your own weapon? Let's see them then."
A gesture from Landon brought M'rissi over, holding the two blades across her arms. The Dragonborn took them from her, resting them against his side before drawing Kren, keeping the blade down and away from the King. "This is Kren, its name means 'to break', or 'to shatter.'" The bone blade shimmered with red light in Landon's hand as he turned it for Robert's inspection, "It destroys all it touches, reducing metal to rust and stone to powder." Returning the blade to its scabbard, Landon carefully drew Dawnbreaker, "This is the Dawnbreaker; a holy relic of the Daedric Prince Meridia; it abhors the unnatural." The brightly glowing blade drew attention from many of those in the training grounds, it's glow of daylight still visible in the early morning sun.
"Mighty weapons indeed. Perhaps we could continue this conversation in my solar?" Eddard said pointedly, and the King's expression shifted, his lips compressing to a grim line. "That sounds wise, Ed; Ser Landon, Ed suggested you could have valuable insights into a topic he broached last night."
As Lord Stark and the King turned to return to the keep, Landon followed behind, beckoning M'rissi and Carerane to accompany him.
Jaime hissed quietly as Cersei dabbed at a graze on his cheek; the stinking tincture she had taken from her belongings stinging as she treated the minor wound, "It was just a spar, sister. I have lost plenty of them before." His sister's dark glare gave him a moment's pause before he continued, "He is a strong warrior, I underestimated him. I won't be so foolish again."
"There will not be another! That brute could have killed you! I am surprised that Lady Stark would allow such a beast near her children! I certainly will not; nor any of his little minions. I will not put my children at risk for Lord Stark's flight of fancy!" Cersei snarled in reply, shoving the bottle of medicine back into its case. Her handmaiden quickly ferried it away at a gesture from the Queen, leaving the two of them alone.
Jaime rested the back of his hand against his sister's cheek, "There will not be another," he promised, "but I don't think he's a danger to the children; and if what Tyrion has told me is true, his taller companion has valuable things to teach. If the children could gain an advantage from that…" He trailed off as Cersei's eyes turned more calculating.
"As vile as he is, Tyrion does have a fair insight into these things," she remarked, ignoring the slight tensing of Jaime's face, "That one, Thaoran, who calls herself a Lady; she might be the only one that is at least bearable of the three. Dovahkiin is a brute and a thug; that Ri'virr is little more than an animal on two legs; but Thaoran at least carries herself with some dignity. I will think on it, my beloved, but I will not endanger our children." Sensing Jaime's acceptance, Cersei leant forward to take a quick kiss before her handmaiden returned.
Standing up, she swept towards one of the narrow miserable windows of the keep, looking out into the training yard, catching a glimpse of Ri'virr and a few Stark whelps practicing their archery before casting her gaze further, into the tall boughs of the Wolfswood just visible over the top of Winterfell's immense walls. "There was apparently a bit of an uproar a few days before we arrived, I heard Tyrion mention it to Robert while he was between wenches at the feast last night. Lord Stark and his sons, the foreigners, and a few guards went out into the Wolfswood, only to return bloodied and fewer in number." She flicked a hand out towards the yard dismissively, "If Stark cannot even prevent his own party being attacked by bandits, I shudder to think how dismally he is running his lands. Perhaps I should speak to some of his vassals, to find the true state of the Crown's territories, not simply whatever falsehoods Lord Stark is willing to drip into Robert's ears."
Apologies for the extremely long delay; but I should be able to maintain a better update schedule now; I will NOT be abandoning this story, I will see it through to completion.