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CHAPTER 166
291 AC
POV THIRD PERSON
Maester Luwin dismounted from his horse as Ned beckoned him forward, his tone reassuring yet urgent. "Maester, do not be afraid and come quickly."
Though still somewhat hesitant, Maester Luwin chose to approach Aermir, though he couldn't help but keep a wary eye on Sith. The fear in his gaze as he glanced at the beast was palpable. However, upon reaching Aermir, he forcibly pushed aside his unease and focused on the task at hand. After a thorough examination, he delivered his assessment.
"It appears that Ser Aermir has succumbed to exhaustion. With some rest and a hearty meal, after he awakens, he should return to his normal self. I also recommend we feed him soup with ground grain. If we use a small spoon, he should have no problem consuming it."
Ned couldn't help but notice the discontent etched upon his wife's face upon hearing that Aermir was alright. In that moment, he resolved to take a decisive step, even if it meant straining their relationship. He believed it was necessary for the future of their house, as they might not be as fortunate next time. Even now, he feels chills running down his spine when he thinks of something happening to one of Aermir's familiars.
"From this moment forward, I am revoking the Lady of Winterfell's authority to rule," Ned declared, stunning the soldiers and knights who stood witness. However, it was Catelyn who appeared most taken aback.
"Henceforth, the Lady of the House shall solely hold authority over the servants, and no soldier or knight shall be under her direct command. Should she issue an order, it must be confirmed with either Ser Rodrik or myself. Failure to adhere to this directive will result in severe consequences."
Catelyn left the scene without uttering a word, her visage contorted with anger.
...
After Aermir had been carefully carried to his room for some much-needed rest, the rest of Winterfell's inhabitants resumed their daily routines. Lord Stark, however, made his way into their private chamber. Catelyn was engrossed in her needlework, her fingers moving deftly through the fabric. The room itself maintained its customary neatness, every object in its proper place. Yet, despite the sunlight streaming in, the atmosphere within felt as if shrouded in darkness.
Catelyn continued her task without even glancing in her husband's direction. Lord Stark settled into a chair with a heavy sigh, his weariness evident in the lines on his face. With the sigh, exhaustion seemed to wash over him like a relentless tide.
"You don't even comprehend the nature of your transgressions, do you?" he began, his voice heavy with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "All you perceive is that you're enduring an injustice."
Lady Stark's words dripped with venom as she lashed out, her anger and frustration spilling forth. "At least you know what you did. How dare you humiliate me in front of all those people! For what? For a beast or a low-born? In the Riverlands, we wouldn't even sit at the same table as those kinds of people."
Ned sighed heavily, the weight of their disagreement pressing upon him. "Cat, I love you," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and exasperation, "but this has to stop. You are not in the Riverlands anymore. You've been here for more than a decade, and you still haven't fully embraced the culture of the North. But this is partly my fault. I should never have built that sept for you or brought those septas and septons. I should have guided you differently, taught you better."
He paused, looking into her eyes with a sincerity that had always defined their relationship. "A year ago, the man you refer to as a low-born managed to outperform the Lady of Winterfell in front of all those people. It made you feel like an outsider, an invader in your own home. And yet, you still haven't learned your lesson. You allowed him to do that. Why? Because of your unwavering devotion to the damned Seven."
Catelyn was so deeply offended by Ned's last comment that she fell to her knees and began to pray fervently. "Never insult the Gods!" she implored, her voice trembling with a mixture of devotion and indignation.
Ned, however, remained resolute.
"Your Gods have no power here! When will you grasp that?" he retorted, his frustration evident in his tone.
"The creature you sought to kill, just to spite Aermir, do you even comprehend its power? That beast can take on a hundred fully armed knights and emerge victorious."
His anger flared, and he slammed his fist onto the table, causing everything atop it to crash to the ground. The wine pitcher shattered into countless pieces, the sudden outburst making Catelyn flinch involuntarily.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"You have no idea how close you came to death," Ned continued, his voice stern.
"And how can you remain so blind to the danger? Even now, you might not be safe. I don't know if I can protect you from his wrath."
Confusion washed over Catelyn as she tried to make sense of his words. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"Why are you so guarded against that low-born? What does it matter if he's skilled with a sword or possesses some wildling magic?"
Ned was flabbergasted; he was getting annoyed by how ignorant his wife sounded.
"Wildling magic... Wildling magic, you say?"
Lord Stark wrestled with the truth he couldn't reveal, constrained by the oath he had sworn. He knew he couldn't disclose Aermir's true identity and the extent of his power, so he resorted to weaving a web of deceit to convince his wife that Aermir was not someone to be trifled with.
"I am referring to the Druid," he declared with a convincing tone, his eyes locking onto hers.
"Druid Emrys defied the king when he attempted to execute that creature. He doesn't even fear the king himself. Can you imagine what he might do if provoked? And what you've heard about his abilities is merely a fraction of the truth. How could you remain so uninformed about the events transpiring throughout Westeros? Even children in distant Essos are acquainted with the tales of Druid Emrys and his formidable powers."
Catelyn couldn't deny that she had actively discouraged anyone from discussing Aermir or anything related to the Old Gods. She felt Ned's firm grip on her hand as he implored her to cease her unwarranted feud.
"Please, Cat, put an end to this senseless conflict. Why do you even care so much about him?" he beseeched her.
Her eyes blazed with anger as she retorted, "A low-born! How dare he overshadow my son? How dare he outshine our future lord? Everywhere I turn, people sing his praises. Even our own son looks up to him as if he's some sort of hero."
Ned's voice rose passionately. "HE IS A HERO!" he proclaimed, his words carrying the weight of his unwavering belief in Aermir.
This exasperation weighed heavily upon Ned as he let out a deep, weary sigh and tried to let go some of it, but it was not working. His voice carried a mixture of frustration and disappointment as he continued to address his wife.
"Jealousy has blinded your eyes and deafened your ears," he lamented. "Do you even know what he accomplished during this war? He single-handedly defended our western coastline, routing hundreds upon hundreds of Ironborn invaders. Thanks to his heroic actions, we suffered almost no casualties during the siege of Pyke. This is the final warning, Cat. I will not tolerate any further hostility from you, and this conversation ends here!"
With his ultimatum hanging in the air, Ned left no room for further argument or debate. He had drawn a line, one that Catelyn knew she could ill afford to cross. She could see rage starting to flare up inside her husband's eyes.
...
POV MC
Opening my eyes was a monumental struggle, and when I finally managed it, I was met with a throbbing headache that felt like someone was relentlessly pounding my head with a hammer. To add to my discomfort, the moment I regained consciousness, my familiars swarmed me with questions.
"Master!"
"Stupid Aermir, why did you pass out? You're so weak. You should eat more meat like me,"
Erebus chided as he dropped a lifeless rabbit in front of me.
"Master, Artio and big bro Berus were so worried."
"Father! Are you alright?" said Poe.
Imu emerged from my shirt, licked my cheek, and nuzzled his head against me. "Master, we were worried."
Amid their barrage of concern, I struggled to piece together what had happened. The reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I quickly glanced at my ankle, where the bluish handprint still marred my skin, and I realized I had lost a significant portion of my mana attempting to fend off that Night King's icy grip. The Night King was real, and he commanded an army of the undead, fundamentally altering all my plans for the future.
As I managed to regain some composure, I pondered the most pressing question: why hadn't he attacked yet? If everything I had witnessed was genuine, he had an army of around eighty thousand, if not more wights at his disposal. Yet, he had not begun his march southward. My thoughts turned to the Wall, a colossal structure that stretched two hundred meters (700 feet) into the sky. Such a formidable wall wouldn't be built to defend against mere humans. It dawned on me that this might be the very reason it was constructed—perhaps the Night King couldn't cross it.
My immediate concern shifted to how I could keep tabs on them. My journey to the Land of Always Winter had been astral, and I recalled the mesmerizing light that had beckoned me. Though that intrigued me, it wasn't my current priority. What mattered most was figuring out how to travel that far north. I needed an animal that could thrive in such a harsh environment. While Sith was an option, I required her presence here, and I desired a creature with better scouting capabilities.
Then, like a beacon in my thoughts, I remembered the snow owls. They were ideally suited to the frigid climate of the far North. I needed to tame one. However, as I pondered these matters, I suddenly sensed exhaustion emanating from Sith. Following this distressing feeling, I found her licking small wounds all over her body. It wasn't anything serious, but I could feel her discomfort.
"Sith, are you okay?" I inquired, concerned.
"Master, I am okay, but it hurts a bit," she replied. Turning to Poe, who was perched in front of my window, I asked her for an explanation of what had transpired. As she recounted the events that unfolded after my sudden loss of consciousness, a surge of anger coursed through me. I am going to make that bitch pay.
Heading towards the courtyard where Sith resided, I was greeted with a sight that left me torn between anger and amusement. Sith appeared somewhat battered from her recent encounter, but the comical part was the presence of Rickon and Bran, who fearlessly clambered onto her head and back. She shook them off, nipped at the nape of their shirts, and playfully tossed them to the ground, all while the boys giggled with delight before promptly resuming their climbing expedition.
Bran was 10 name-days old, while Rickon was only 5 name-days old. They must have managed to elude their nannies, and people were likely searching frantically for them. It was quite fascinating to witness. Sith, who typically wouldn't allow anyone to approach her, let alone ride her, was now tolerating the boys as they climbed all over her.
-Master, could you please remove these human-looking dire wolf cubs? They are becoming rather bothersome. They are so peculiar, and I'm quite perplexed. They have the scent of dire wolves but the appearance of humans, and their mana scent is akin to Robb's. I can't fathom what type of creatures these cubs are. The only resemblance to humans is their appearance, and it's truly befuddling.-
-They are not dire wolves,-
I clarified, -They smell like them because they constantly sleep with their wolves.-
Sith continued, -Then they are human children?-
I confirmed, -Yes.-
-But they don't feel like humans; they feel like animals.-
-Yes, they tend to act like one.- A weary smile appeared on my face. I addressed the boys,
"Rickon, Bran, get off her. You're starting to annoy her."
Curious about their nannies, I inquired, "You two little wolves, where are your nannies?"
Bran responded with a smug grin, "We ran away from them while they were taking us to Maester Luwin for a lesson."
"AAAHHHH!"
At that moment, I heard a shrill scream and swiftly turned to locate the source of the voice.