Chapter 11: Bandits
They were half away from the Capital and stopped for the night again as the previews days since they left Harrhenal. The soldiers were on guard all around the camp, to protect them should someone attack, but he doubted someone would dare in this side of Riverlands, near the border with the Crownlands.
With Lyanna he didn't have many chances to talk, during the travel and if he should be honest, she didn't seem much eager to speak with him. His mother urged him to insist, but he didn't want to seem too pushy and intrusive.
But still, he needs to try and know her better and make her see that he wasn't like his father even if it means being intrusive. So, getting up, and tying, Rhaegar left the tent, stopping the Kingsguard that was standing outside his tent, "I will walk alone, Arthur. There is no need for your service."
The Dornish Kingsguard bowed, stopping, as Rhaegar went in the search of the She-wolf of Winterfell, first to her tent, where she wasn't. Then around the camp, till it was Benjen Stark the one to reveal where she was. At a short distance from the camp where there was a small forest and a stream.
He starts to walk in that direction, led by the boy, who was quite bold, keeping asking him stories about the war against the Blackfire and about Arthur's fight against the Smiling knight.
However, the moment he heard groans and screams, Rhaegar immediately pulled out his sword, sending the boy back to the camp with the precise command of not say a word, thinking that there may be bandits, and running in the directions from where the noise could be heard.
Once there, he saw that the noises weren't because of an attack from the bandits, but because Lyanna was training with her friend or sword shield, Dacey Mormont. He pulled back the sword, hiding behind a tree, to look at the training, or more precisely, her training. She was swinging this sword and defending herself better than most of the knights of Westeros.
Her hairs were tied in a bun, her sleeves up to her elbows, despite the coldness that was raising as he could feel, a tunic over her and a pair of dark grey breeches that fitted tightly on her. He shamefully watched her forms and imagined how she may look under, but the moment she knocked her opponent to the ground and was pointing the tip of the sword under her troth, Rhaegar decided to show himself, starting to clap his hand as he approached them.
Lyanna immediately looked at him, panting, while the Mormont girl, getting up immediately, bowed, greeting him, "Your grace."
"There is no need for formalities, Lady Mormont. But may I have a moment with my betrothed."
The girl glanced at Lyanna for a moment, who nodded, closing her mouth and swallowing, and Dacey Mormont turning to him said, "Of course, my Prince." Moving away, leaving the only two of them in that spot.
Silence fell for a few moments with the only things to truly break it was her panting, and the following slowly regain of normal breath, but she never broke the gaze with him.
"You wanted to speak with me, my Prince?" she asked, leaning on the sword.
"Yes," he replied, but in truth, he even forgot why he searched for her, because of this moment of distraction at admiring how she was swinging her sword.
"My Prince? What did you want to talk about?"
"You are beautiful," he blurted out instead, and saw her blush, glancing down, ad try to hide a smile, as he was approaching her. "The way you swing your swords. With elegance and at the same time brutality," he added once stopped in front of her, and raising her chin up so that she was looking at him, "It's impressive. I thought lance was your hidden talent, but I have to reconsider it. The sword is yours."
"Well…maybe I have other hidden talents that you haven't discovered yet," the girl said, before immediately turning around, almost embarrassed, and Rhaegar placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.
"Don't be embarrassed of them, my Lady. I'm not like my father or like other Lords who limit their wives and daughters' talents."
"So you are the perfect prince without a stain?"
"Oh…my dear Lyanna," he said, sighing turning around, and starting to patch. "I'm far from the perfect Prince without a stain."
"Like what?"
"This is not the right moment to speak about her," he said, thinking about the new-born Blackfyre girl back in King's Landing hidden and unknown to almost everyone except those who were with him in the war.
"Her? Who is this 'her'?" the girl asked with the hint of a hidden anger behind the question. Ah, sweet jealousy. So, the She-wolf of Winterfell was a victim of it too. "Rhaegar?"
"Am I wrong or am I seeing a certain jealousy from the famous She-wolf of Winterfell?"
The girl approached him with raged eyes, and sword in hand, before stopping only a few inches from his face, "The reason why I was against the marriage to Robert fucking Baratheon was because he is a whoremonger and would never have kept to one bed. Don't expect-"
But he cut her off by grabbing her waist and making her collide with him, before sealing his lips with hers.
Lyanna released a moan, dropping her sword, and bringing her hands up to his hairs. What happened next, shocked him, as she, grabbing his head, kicked him between his legs, and knocking him to the ground.
Rhaegar groaned, holding himself, and cursing under his breath, with closed eyes, but when he opened them, he saw her bend, and grab his face, "I may be a maiden. I may be young, but I'm not a fool, Prince. Don't think I'll accept such a marriage, no matter what your father says. If this is what awaits me, know that our engagement will not last long."
With these words, the girl left, not letting him have a chance to reply, and leaving him lying there in agony because of his aching balls.
She was walking furiously towards the camp, thinking back to what had happened in the woods, and till couldn't believe what a fool she was to fall for him. Of course, he had a mistress in King's landing. Or more than one. He was a prince.
"Lady Lyanna," she heard her call, and stopped immediately, turning to the direction the voice had come from, and seeing that it was the Queen, followed behind by a Kingsguard.
"Your grace," Lyanna greeted the woman with a reverence.
"Is everything all right, Lady Lyanna?"
"Yes," she immediately replied, lying, and trying to hide the anger she was feeling towards the Prince, right now, not wanting to bark words that may offend the woman.
"I can clearly see that it isn't," the woman, said giving her a small smile and taking her arm, before starting to walk, while Lyanna was feeling a bit uneasy in having the Prince's mother walk with her, because she was all sweaty and surely smelled badly. "You have a fight with my son, didn't you?"
And Lyanna stopped to look at her, but before she could open her mouth, the Queen smiled, resuming the walk, "I can see that from miles away, Lady Lyanna, when he is the topic of a fight."
"We didn't have a fight... just a squabble that most likely was born from a misunderstanding."
"And may I ask the reason of this misunderstanding?" the woman asked almost in a whisper and smiling. " Maybe I can be the healer of your quarrel and relieve your wounded heart, which is now very dear to me."
"My heart isn't wounded."
"It is, my lady. It is," the Queen said, this times with seriousness. "I can see a wounded heart from miles away."
"He mentioned a woman. A her, that I suppose is in King's Landing."
"He has no woman, Lady Lyanna, beside the one with whom I am walking now," the queen replied and Lyanna stopped to look at her in confusion and at the same time, ask with a raised eyebrow, "What do you know about it?"
"A mother knows," the queen said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Be patient Lady Lyanna and the answer to your questions will come. But I want you to know, Lady Lyanna, that you can always trust me, and talk with me when you need." And after stroking her arm and smiling reassuringly, the woman left, followed by the Kingsguard, leaving speechless and stunned.
Hours later…
He was heading back to his tent to retire for the night after a meeting with the king, since he now was the new Master of Laws, and the Aerys Targaryen was eager to hear his suggestions regarding new laws. He stammered, breathing out a few honourable and fair ideas, but in truth he did not know what to do and did not understand why the king had chosen him as Maester of Law, considering that there were far better Lords fit for this seat.
Not to mention the fact that he was struck in a city ruled by the man who doomed his family, by exiling his father to the Wall. At least he will have his little brother and sister with him and won't be alone in a pit of snakes.
When he got inside, Ned saw his sister waiting for him, "Lya, he greeted her with a kiss on the forehead as he was taking off his sword. "How may I help you, sister?"
"I heard you had a meeting with the king. What did that snake want from you?"
"My services as Master of the Law, he replied, filling himself a cup of wine and taking a sip.
"I see...and?"
"And what?"
"What kind of law you suggested him?"
"The things I thought were right and honourable," he replied, taking another long sip and sitting next to her. "But I don't want to speak about that, Lya. You know I'm not a man of politics."
"Oh, I know. But Better you in there than some asshole Lord from out there," she replied, before releasing a sigh and starting to play with her skirt. Eddard knew that something was troubling her, but before he could ask anything, she was the one to speak, asking, "How do you think father is faring?"
"Don't know. But I hope he is well," he replied, taking another sip. He still couldn't believe what his father was doing. What Jon was doing. He thought of them as honourable man, and that oaths and the word loyalty meant something to them. But it seems he was wrong.
"So Ashara Dayne choose to stay with you instead of her Princes, hu? I wonder why is the reason."
"I don't know what you mean, sister. Me and Lady Ashara...we are just…friends…and she is going to the Capital in the hope to find a husband and spend some time with her brother," he replied against the edge of the goblet but not drinking from it.
"Yes, yes, of course. And tell me, dear brother, do all your friends undress naked in your rooms? Or just the special ones?" asked Lyanna almost teasingly, and Eddard felt his cheeks flush, and he immediately drank his wine, almost letting out a hiccup, at which Lyanna began to laugh. "I would have never thought to find my honourable big brother in love with a girl."
"This means war, little wolf," Eddard said, throwing the goblet away and starting to tickle his sister, who laughed and giggled with tears in her eyes, as she tried to kick and to oppose but in vain, however a clearing troth interrupted the moment, and Eddard immediately looked towards the entrance, seeing Ashara with crossed arms, a purple veil covering her shoulders and a not very happy expression.
"Lady Ashara. We…I…"
"Ah, Lady Ashara Dayne. We didn't have many occasions to bond and speak during this tourney, but I hope we will have in the capital as my lady in waiting," his sister said, getting up and giving a hug to the Dornish Lady, who half returned, it, with a smile, "Thank you Lady Lyanna. Or should I say Princess Lyanna?"
"Yes…right…Well, it' getting late…And…I will leave you too," Lyanna said, glancing at him smirking, and leaving the tent, while he, swallowing and getting up said, "I know that what you saw maybe could be understood differently...but is not."
"Did I ask you anything, Eddard?" said the woman, and he shook his head, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her.
Now that they were almost alone since Viserys was sleeping deeply peacefully under the covers at a small distance from them, Rhaella filled herself a goblet of wine, and approached Aerys who was sitting at the table, wrapped in a furcoat, and looking at the map of Westeros, wandering what he was planning in that sick mind of his and if he will share with her since he didn't share the plans of what happened in Harrhenal.
Taking a sip, she said, "You have been staring at that map ever since we set up camp. What are you up to?"
But Aerys didn't reply, mumbling something under his breath, never raising his gaze up from the map, and so she insisted, "Aerys?" And this time he looked up, with furrowed eyebrows at her, and fire clouding his purple eyes.
She swallowed in fear for a moment, before taking a sip with raising her trembling hand. "W-what are you doing?" she asked stammering the words, and cursing herself for being weak, and not as she promised to be at Harrhenal.
However, before he could say anything, screams could be heard from outside, and he immediately got up, "What in the Seven Hells is happening?"
But two Kingsguard, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Lyn Corbray burst in, "We are under attack, my King," and she immediately throws the goblet to the ground, running to her son Viserys and waking him up.
"Who are they?" Aerys replied, heading to the table to grab the dagger, but before the Kingsguard could reply, three men got in, knocking the two Kingsguard to the ground, wanting to stab him with a dagger, while, one of the three turned his attention to him, "Prepare to die Mad King along with your wretched family!" And he charged at the king who managed to dodge the attack in time, with the sword of the enemy sticking in the table, and this gave chance to Aerys to stab the man in the neck, who even though wounded managed to strike the king, only to be beheaded by Ser Oswell.
"Your grace!" the Kingsguard bend down to help their king, while she was trying to calm a crying Viserys.
He was striking right and left, back and forth, dodging attacks, and at the same time keep an eye on Lyanna who didn't want to go to cover and hide like a maiden, but on the field, with sword in hand, and by all the gods she was good at fighting.
"By the seven! How many they are?" asked Arthur, panting, cutting another one down.
"Too many," he replied, and in that moment Rhaegar saw two men, who must have been the leaders start to shout orders to take prisoners the nobles, and he immediately charged at the one that looked like to be a lord, recognizing the black-winged heart, on a goldfield, within a black embattled border of House Toyne.
The knight immediately paired the attack with his sword, gasping, before smirking, said, "Prince Rhaegar. What an honour to finally meet you on the field."
"Can't say the same," Rhaegar replied, kicking the man, and breaking the guard, making him fall to the ground, before ready to strike again, but in that same moment, he got knocked to the ground too by two men, losing Blackfyre.
One of them tried to stick a dagger in him, but he managed to divert the attack, wounding his other enemy.
"You fucker!" the one with the dagger punched Rhaegar in the side, making him gas in pain, before climbing on and trying to stick the dagger again, but Rhaegar managed to block it again, and now it was all a fight of who was the stronger, and his opponent was one damn strong men, and Rhaegar could see the point of the bled a few inches from his eyes.
In that same moment, he was saved by someone who pierced the man with a sword, and so Rhaegar managed to push him off, before looking at his saviors, seeing that it was Lyanna, "You are welcome, Prince," she said, smiling, helping him up, but right before he could say something, Rhaegar saw a woman shout an arrow towards them, and he immediately nocked Lyanna to the ground. "Fuck!" the girl cursed, "It seems I need to thank you."
"We are even," he replied, pulling some strands away from her face, before seeing blood on her arm. "But you are wounded."
"Only a scratch," the girl replied, getting up, "But we are not done yet," and so did he, hearing in that moment, of the soldiers and lock of shields, following right behind. The Unsullied had come.
An hour later…
A healer was brought from the near village to treat the wounds of everyone who was involved in the fight, and especially the king's one, who got lightly wounded on the side, while the other lords and knights who were unharmed, were putting the king aware of the conditions of the party. Who was alive, and who was missing, while the Unsullied secured the camp.
Rhaella managed to calm her little son who now was sleeping peacefully, despite Aerys' curses and howls of rage in the ten. He was furious with everyone in this moment and demanded to know who dared to strike the king on his progress.
Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur were sent around in their search, and no one of them returned yet, while Rhaegar wanted to go too, but Aerys denied him that reckless move. She was grateful for that, but Rhaella was still too shocked by the events and by the fear of losing her children. The little one that was sleeping here, and her precious first-born son who fought outside.
Once those in the tent were dismissed, Rhaella, needed to say what had been on her mind since long time ago, and since this was the perfect moment, got up and approached Aerys, who in the meantime filled himself a goblet of wine, and dunk it in a breath, and holding it with a trembling hand.
"Aerys. I want to learn to wield a sword."
"What?"
"I want to learn how to wield a sword?"
"A sword? Have you lost your mind?!" Aerys shouted, getting up abruptly, only to release a groan of pain and gritting his teeth before slowly sit down. "A sword isn't made for your little soft hands."
"Let me decide what is made or not made for my hands."
"And tell me, sister, why do you want to learn how to use a sword? To steel my throne and the Seven Kingdoms?"
Hearing that, Rhaella leaned over the table, and looking him in the eye replied in a firm tone, "If I wanted to do that, I would have done it long ago, and I wouldn't have needed a sword."
"Careful, sister. These words of yours make me begin to think that this attack is a move on your part to do away with me."
"Then you're a fool to think that I would endanger my children," not believing the words coming out of her mouth and feeling her gut turn.
"Yours?" asked Aerys, his expression darkening, and the grin disappearing.
"Ours," she corrected herself but didn't seem to change his mood, as Aerys turned away, with his gaze fixed on the entrance. She didn't know what was passing through that sick mind of his, but she only hoped that he will at least use some good sense and think about their children and their future. In that moment, when she thought about the future, something light inside her, and turning Aerys' face by the chin, said, "Think about the future that you dreamed, your grace. The daughter you have dreamed of…with te curly dark-haired boy…Think about their future."
"And what does training you to wield a sword have to do with their future?" asked Aerys, pushing her hand away, and holding against the table, got up.
"Remember what the stories about the attempted assassination of Queen Alysanne Targaryen at Jonquil's Pool? She went to bathe and was attacked by those…women. And do you remember what happened next?"
"The child she was carrying died and she blamed the women and the fact that she didn't bathe in the water. But I still don't understand where you are heading, sister."
"We are heading towards a war, your grace, and I want to be able to defend myself and our unborn daughter when she will come into this world."
"Do not worry about that, sweet sister, because by then this war will be over and peace will be ruling in Westeros."
"But it may take months."
"Are you perhaps pregnant?" he asked, even though in his eyes, nor in his voice there was a hint of hope or excitement. Only coldness and Rhaella shook his head. "Good. Now go to sleep. I had enough of your little trifles."
Rhaella obeyed, sighing returning back to the bed and lying down next to her son, kissing his forehead, hugging to shield him from the harm, and drifting to sleep.
Lyanna was laying on the bed made of furs in her tent, with an open eye and the dagger under the pillow, despite knowing that Dacey was near. She wanted to be ready should the enemy come again.
She still could not believe that bandits and outlaws tried to attack the king's party and especially kidnap and kill some lords and ladies.
Suddenly, without realizing it, Lyanna felt someone lay next to her, and immediately grabbed the dagger ready to strike, but stopped the moment she felt a hand on her waist, and those words leave his mouth, "It's me."
She didn't react to his words and to his gesture, laying there immobilized, and waiting for his next words.
Leaning, Rhaegar whispered against her head, "I'm sorry if my words hurt you. It was never my intention. There no other woman beside you, Lyanna."
"You mentioned a her…when we were in the woods," she said, swallowing the knot she was feeling in her throat.
"Yes, I did. But her was referring to a woman…but rather to a new-born girl," he whispered those last words against her hairs. "I committed treason…against my father the King and my House…I put the throne in danger."
She didn't know what to say in reply to these words, neither how to react.
"Know this, Lyanna, that until now I didn't have a woman," he said, this time no longer whispering, but in a loud voice, squeezing her to him, and when she did not answer him, Rhaegar tried to get up, but she stopped him, gripping his hand, and felt him squeeze her again.
"Whose daughter?"
"Blackfyre," was the only thing he said, and hearing that, and remembering the history of Westeros, the bad reputation of the bastards because of Daemon Blackfyre, she decides to push no more in this argument.
However, feeling sorry for what she did before, Lyanna closed her eyes, and wetting her lips asked, "How are your balls?"
"Fine but still a bit aching," he replied, chuckling, making her blush and at the same time feel bad for him, however, she had no other words to give him, so intertwining her left hand with his left hand, Lyanna brought his hand up to her chest, squeezing it tightly to herself. And after settling good in his arms, Lyanna drifted to sleep.
Near White Harbour…
The ship was approaching White Harbour, after a long week of sailing from Maidenpool and maybe another week will take them to ride to Winterfell. The situation on board was tense for everyone, dealing with the aftermath of Harrhenal.
Now he really didn't know what he will do. His father is in the night's Watch and there is nothing he can do to save him, while his brothers and sister were in King's Landing under the dragon's claws.
His supposed future wife was locked in her cabin, mourning her dead brother, refusing to eat, and only crying day and night, while he seems to have lost the courage and boldness, he had back in Harrhenal. On top of all this, there was the fact that his Lords were divided in this moment between those who were favoring the crown, its decisions, and consequently Bolton as the new Great House, and others who were saying to Hell with the Targaryens and rebel. Something he would do if he leaves impulsiveness and pride take over him.
But now he decides to make another try with the Dornish Princes, and plate in hand, headed to her cabin. Taking a deep breath, he knocked at her door, "Saying, Princess Elia. It's me." But receiving no reply from her, so he tried to open the door and see if it was unlocked, and thankful to the Old Gods it was.
"Princess. Are you awake?" he asked, softly, peeking behind the door, and during a look inside, seeing that she was laying on the bed, and seemingly asleep. Closing the door behind, Brandon got in, heading first to the table to put the plate on, and after that headed towards the bed where the princess was laying.
He stopped for a moment to look at her sleeping forms without worries and at the same time, he wondered if this marriage would work. Back at Harrhenal, before all the mess happened, they had something. They knew that it would end the moment the tourney will need, and they were back to their old lives, but this is something never expected, and if he has to be honest, didn't know how to deal further.
"Are you going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to say something?" she asked, pulling him out of his thoughts, as he chuckled, sitting down.
"I brought you some food-"
"I'm not hungry," she said, turning to lay on her back and look up.
"Starving to death won't bring your brother back, and I doubt he will want you to do that."
"How do you know he won't want that?"
"Because I wouldn't want for my sister to starve to death in my mourning," he replied, looking her straight in those black eyes that were similar to her brother, only less viper shape.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, changing topic of the conversation, as he moved to the table to fill some wine because his dry troth is begging for some wine to wet it. Being it sweet or sour. "Brandon?"
"Nothing," he said, taking a sip, before turning to her. "I can do nothing. My siblings are in the capital with the Mad King and my father at the wall. The only things I can do is watch my back from a Bolton and protect Winterfell."
"Why did you plot against him?"
"To put an end to the Dragons," he replied, placing the goblet on the table, and approached, "But let's not talk about them. Let's talk about something else…something more…cheerful I would say."
"So Winterfell is the place where I'm secluded to?" she asked, intertwining her hands over her belly, and looking at him.
Brandon chuckled laying too on the bed next to her, "Don't say it like that. It's not that bad."
"Then tell me something about this ancient place," she said, smiling and placing her head on his chest.
"Well, it isn't a very big castle as those from the south like Harrhenal or King's Landing, but it has a big Godswood, where I love to spend my time."
"So praying is what the wild wolf loves to do?" the princes asked teasingly and pouring while he had a smug on his face, knowing what she was referring too. All the maiden he conquered and took in that Godswood and other places. "So? The wolf lost his tongue?"
"No. But yes. You are right. I am a wild man enjoying life, and I must say that I'm very lucky with women."
"So that means I'm going to see a little Snow running around?"
He was caught by surprise with this question of her, not knowing how to reply and for which he really needed a moment to think, but in the end, swallowing the knot he was feeling, blocking his throat, he breathed out the words, "No. As far as I know."
And with those words, silence fell over them, with the only things that could be heard, was their breathing, and he enjoyed this moment holding a warm woman's body in his arms, "Do you think I can expect some faithfulness from you?"
"Why are you asking?"
"Firstly, because of your reputation as a bad wolf," she said with some sarcasm in her voice and running her hand up and down his tunic. "Secondly. I am aware that I'm not that great shaped woman that some men like, that my-"
"Do you think that is the only things that matter?" he asked, rolling them, so that he could look at her, as she was laying on her back. "I had women of every shape, but now I would say that I want a woman for life, and I think that woman is you. And it's not like you are skill-less."
"Never took you for a poet, Wild Wolf," she smirking, said caressing his bearded cheek.
"What can I say? I am a constant surprise," he replied, bending down to capture her lips for a kiss, while bringing the hand to her thigh, groping her, and at the same time pushing the dress aside, to reveal her cunt.
Elia moaned, as their tongue were battling for dominance, placing her hand on his shoulder and before he could react, Brandon found himself on his back and the woman starts to rip apart his tunic.
He tried to keep her steady on him, but Gods it was difficult to resist the urge of roll and start to fuck her against this bed. She suddenly bit his lips, making him groan, "What –"
"So that you stay focused on me, not on some-"
He cut this time, rolling making her yelp, and rising up on his knees between her parted legs, grinning down at the woman, before ripping apart her yellow Myrish dress, revealing the naked body and her soaked cunt.
At that, Brandon took of his tunic, throwing it away, and after that he ripped off the undershirt he was wearing, while Elia from her part, brought her hands to his breeches, untying them, and releasing his hard cock, who popped out and ready at her command.
She bit her lips as she was looking at his shapes before running her hands over his abs, and grab his cock starting to tease the tip.
Lowering himself down, he started to ravage her with kisses, almost as eating, and covering her with sloppy kisses, as she was moaning his name, and as he was moving downwards to her holy nectar.
Moments later…
White harbor….
"So this is the white city in the North," Elia said, as she was standing on the docks of the ship that was entering the harbor. The cold breeze of the sea blowing from the door was chilling her Dornish blood that was used to far warmer conditions, despite the furcoat she was wearing.
"Yes," Brandon replied, approaching her. "It's the seat of House Manderly. They are the richest northern family and for sure one of the most powerful bannerman of my father."
"And now that Bolton is their Liege Lord, where does their loyalty lie? With the old Liege or with the new?"
"Well, I bet we will find soon," Brandon replied, patting her back, and heading to the crew, while she returned her gaze back to the city.
Once landed, they were greeted by a very overweighed bald man, with a bushy walrus mustache which covers his mouth, wearing a velvet blue-green doublet and cloak with a silver-and-sapphire trident.
"Welcome to White harbor, Lord Brandon. And Lady-"
"Princess Elia of House Martell," Brandon said, introducing her, and the man bowed. "My future wife." And the man nodded, as they started to walk towards the inner city. "I don't know if White Harbour had been informed, Ser Willys, but the north had some changes since the tourney."
"Yes. Lord Bolton is our new liege lord and Lord Rickard was sent to the Wall with the charge of treason. Lord Bolton also asks a meeting at the Dreadfort for a meeting."
"And what your father has decided?"
"What can he decide? Lord Bolton was raised to the status of Great House by the Crown ad White Harbour cannot make an enemy of them, my lord," the man replied. "As he is riding north, Lord Bolton is visiting every northern Houses on the way to accept their oaths."
Of course, he was, Elia though, knowing well how a rival house will try to seize their power when the opportunity occurs. It happened with their greatest rival of Yronwood, during the Blackfyre Rebellions, and now happens in the north too.
"Congratulations for the birth of your daughter, Ser Wylis," Brandon said, bringing her back from her thoughts. "I am sure she will grow into a great beauty in the near future...And on this, I was wondering if we could make a marriage pact between her and my future heir."
"Yes…on that regard…I'm afraid I can't accept, Lord Stark. Lord Bolton wrote to my father the Lord of White Harbour asking for a betrothal between his son and heir, Domeric, and my little Winfried. We said that we will think about it but…I'm sure you can understand our position, Lord Stark."
"I do. And I accept it," Brandon replied, stopping to look at the man, and placing his hand on his shoulder, added, "But I hope that in the future we will be able to join our Houses."
"It will be a great pleasure," the man replying bowing his head.
Moments later, once they were on the horses outside White Harbour heading towards Winterfell, she asked, "I didn't think you were such a great diplomat and understanding man."
"Understanding and diplomatic, you say, my lady? No, I fear I am not. I have every intention of taking back what is rightfully mine, Princess. And the Mad King be damned," the young new Lord of Winterfell replied as he glanced towards her, before returning his firm gaze back forward. "With the sword I will take back the rulership of the North."
With that, he hit the horse with his heels and rode away, leaving her a little stunned and scared because of what will come.