"Lord Jason," Lysa began, looking up at me, her eyes twinkling in the faint morning light. There was a light blush on her pale face and her gaze kept sweeping over everything in the room, except for me. Her voice was a bit shaky too. I guess it should've been cute, especially since Lysa was a very beautiful girl; unfortunately, it kind of just made me uncomfortable. I preferred the comfort of my undead, honestly, or flying around with Nightfury or hanging out with Halga. Lysa was obviously attracted to me and the feeling was definitely not mutual. I just preferred older women – and I mean older women. And I was pretty sure I knew what Lysa was planning on offering me. "Would I be correct in assuming that you've no lands or titles of your own?"
I smiled awkwardly as I reached for an empty cup and looked inside it, hoping it somehow now had water, after checking it the last five times. "I don't, actually. And I'm also not a lord, in case you've forgotten that. I'm just a man."
Lysa smiled and turned to me and our eyes met. "The dragon gives you the title of lord, Lord Jason – and, trust me, no man in all of Westeros or Essos is going to argue with the one man who possesses a dragon."
Lord Jason, huh? Ya know what? Damn, that actually sounded pretty cool. So, fuck it, I was now officially Lord Jason Lee of House Lee and whoever tries to argue against me can take it up with Nightfury and see how that ends for them.
"Very well," I said, smiling. Lysa stared at me lips. Oh boy.
"And, as a lord, you're expected to have lands of your own – vassals, even." Lysa continued and I really didn't like where this was going. I haven't even practiced my rejection line just yet. But, I knew that this was coming and, as the adult, I had to let her down gently, but firmly, without explaining how I was into milfs and cougars, and not teenagers. Actually, I don't remember how old Lysa was, but I didn't think it mattered. Too young. Not my type. I didn't want to get married to someone I wasn't particularly attracted to.
Hell, even if I found her attractive, I didn't wanna get married anyway. Innate physical attraction didn't guarantee a lasting relationship and, though I'd respect the local culture, I wasn't about to sacrifice my personal happiness for any of them. So, no thanks, I'll be marrying the right woman. And I definitely didn't care for riches or any of that fancy shit the lords of Westeros kept fighting over. I had no need for castles, lands, or resources. Why? Because I had all the power I needed to take all that shit for myself.
Who could stop me? As far as I knew, the Targaryens didn't even have their dragons anymore. Though, I was a bit skeptical about that bit, since my presence kind of probably brought magic back into the world, which meant there was a non-zero chance that the white-haired incest weirdos would eventually be able to hatch, at the very least, a few of their dragon eggs.
But that was just a theory, one that had no real basis in reality. The truth was that no one knew how or why Daenerys was able to hatch her dragons. Was it the meteor? Was it Khal Drogo? Of course, there were a lot of theories online as to how, but George really didn't confirm anything anyway; so the only thing people could do was speculate. It was just as likely that it was none of the things she did and she just got lucky with the timing.
"I promised you a gift, Lord Jason," Lysa continued, breathing in. Her features calmed down, somewhat, but the blush on her cheeks only seemed to grow brighter and more intense. Oh boy, I wasn't looking forward to this. "A gift befitting of your deed and your stature. House Mormont is not rich with resources. We do not have mountains of gold like House Lannister or great fleets like House Redwyne and House Velaryon. For what it's worth, Lord Jason, I... I... I offer you my hand in marriage. I will be loyal and faithful, and I will birth as many children as you could want – for as long as womb remains fertile. I'll even take your name as my own. And Bear Island shall forever be under the rule of House Lee. This is... the greatest gift I could offer, Lord Jason."
Hmm... how the fuck was I supposed to explain this without offending her? If I said she wasn't old enough for me, she'd protest, because- wait. "How old are you, again, Lysa?"
"I'm seven and ten, Lord Jason," She answered. And yep, there it was. Fuck. "A woman grown, certainly old enough to be wed and bare children. My mother... she... was searching for marriage prospects before the Wildlings came and killed her. I offer myself to you, Lord Jason."
I stared at her for a good while. "I am not saying no, Lysa. But, I'm going to be very honest with you. I have a strong preference for older women. Girls your age simply do not interest me."
"I am no mere girl, my lord." Her eyes steeled and her blush faded. Ah, there's that northern fury House Mormont's pretty famous for. "I am grown."
"Oh, I'm sure you are," I said. Ah fuck it. "But, as things stand, I'm just not attracted to you, okay? You're beautiful and I'm sure you'll make your future husband very happy but that isn't going to be me, okay? Not unless you somehow manage to wait fifteen to twenty years, without marrying anyone, then I'll definitely consider it. But that wouldn't be fair to you, because even I won't do that in your shoes. So, I encourage you to think really hard about that and arrive at your own conclusion."
"Before anything else, however," I smiled and reached out to touch her hand. "Know that I am and always will be an ally of House Mormont. If you need me, I'll be here – dragon and all. But I cannot take what you've offered me."
Her expression was... disappointed and sad. She didn't argue. Lysa Mormont simply nodded. "I... understand, Lord Jason. And I'm thankful for the alliance you've offered. But... what could I possibly offer you now? There's... nothing for me to give. I offered you my hand because... well... that's all that's left. It'll be years before I can truly rebuild House Mormont. Our Knightly Vassals are all dead."
"How about a favor, then?" I smiled as Lysa Mormont's brows furrowed in confusion. "A single favor to be called in at a moment of my choosing; it can be tomorrow or fifty years from now. Just a single favor. Are you fine with that?"
After a moment of deliberation, Lysa Mormont nodded and gave a half-hearted smile. "A single favor, then, Lord Jason, to be called in whenever and wherever you wish. Whatever it is you ask for, I will do all that I can and give all that I have to see it done."
I smiled. "Perfect. Now, how about we get some breakfast? While we were talking, I had my minions prepare a little something for us."
An exercise in fine control, a department that I was just a bit lacking in. I also had no idea what kind of food Westerosi people ate, since I always skipped the parts where George described the food a little too much, the same way I skipped the parts of the LOTR series where Tolkien focuses too much on a tree and how it looks and stuff. So, with everything I found in the cellar, I decided to make a carbonara, the Italian way – eggs, pasta, bacon, and aged cheese. The pasta was a bit tricky, but I just mixed a little bit of flour and water and salt into a dough, rolled it flat and then cut it thinly, like soba noodles, I guess.
It should taste good, however.
"But, my lord, that sort of task-"Lysa Mormont's eyes widened. But, since I didn't want to hear any protest from her and because I wanted to eat breakfast with someone, I grabbed her by the and dragged her to the dining hall.
It eyes snapped open in the frozen darkness. The voice of its god beckoned it awake, to rise from its dark slumber. It stood up from its bed of frost and snow, a crown of frozen fractals appeared over his head, whereupon a head of silver hairs sat and dangled, fluttering in the frigid air. Howling winds blew hard and sent columns and waves of ice and snow cascading everywhere. Its siblings still slept, it noted. Its god had seen fit to awaken only it, first and eldest of its kind.
It breathed in the cold and willed forth an armor of blackened ice to appear all over its pale-white form, covering its cold skin.
It looked up and beheld the sky, black and gray and cold. And yet, the time of the Great Awakening hadn't yet arrived. It was too early. If not for the call of its god, it would not have awakened.
Still, it was faithful and devout, like its siblings. And so, it journeyed up the frozen mountain that was its home, up ten thousand steps, leapt across frozen chasms and icy cliffs, until finally, it reached its god. Entombed upon a prison of blue ice, asleep, dead and dreaming, bound by black chains. But there was no corporeal form within the prison, only a single helmet, dark and withered, bejeweled with ancient gemstones older than the world itself. Twin eyes blazed within the frozen prison.
It bowed and lowered its head. To be in the presence of the god of cold was the greatest honor it'd ever received. It even removed its crown and placed it upon the frozen floor. Before its god, there were no kings or lords or leaders or masters, only servants. And it was a servant – itself and its brethren. All of them existed only to serve the true god, the one who came before the world, the First of the Dead, the Lord of Hollows.
I have sensed the presence of a powerful necromancer, my servant.
It felt confusion. There are many necromancers in this world, lord.
Its god cackled and howled with laughter. This one commands true death... like you... like your brethren... like your children. I have felt its power... strong in death... extremely powerful. But not like you. This one is not born of ice and cold. T'is born of fire and warmth – mortal. Such a thing cannot be allowed to exist. Death belongs to me. It is mine alone.
What would you have me do, lord? The time of the Great Winter comes, but it has not arrived yet. The world of fire burns still.
The Great Winter comes and goes at my behest, servant. And by my will, you shall march southward come the next winter; within you I shall imbue the strength to survive the lands of fire. This mortal cannot be allowed to wield the Power of Death. I will suffer no rival. Find it and destroy it, and you may sleep until the Great Winter comes and shrouds this world in darkness.
By your command, lord. I shall find the one who has usurped the Power of Death and offer them paradise.
Its god became silent and it knew it was time to stand. And so it did. It walked back the way it came, down the tallest mountain and into the frozen heartland of its dominion. It raised a pale hand and uttered cold and silent words. The ground shook and cracked, great crags of ice and snow splitting open as a great white dragon of frost emerged, its eyes blue and cold, its breath the chill of winter.
AN: Chapter 23 is out on (Pat)reon!