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CHAPTER 201

294 AC

POV THIRD PERSON

As Aermir's final day in Winterfell dawned, the North's ancient stronghold was alive with the hustle and bustle of its inhabitants going about their daily routines. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the formidable walls and towering spires of the castle. It was a picturesque morning, a tranquil sight.

Aermir, along with Robb, Jon, Bran, and Rickon, had decided to spend this precious day on a hunting expedition. They sought to seize the opportunity to connect with each other amidst the breathtaking wilderness that surrounded Winterfell. As they readied themselves for the excursion, the air was crisp and filled with the earthy scent of leaves and dew-kissed grass.

In the wake of the previous night's revelry, Theon had sought amends for his drunken antics, extending apologies to Robb in an attempt to mend the frayed threads of their friendship. Yet, Robb was no longer blind to Theon's true character, and while he maintained a veneer of cordiality, a newfound distance separated them. Theon, once again, was kissing up to Robb, trying to regain his favor, but the Stark heir was cautious, not so easily swayed by the pretense.

When Theon expressed his desire to join the hunting party, Aermir didn't mince words. He flatly refused, his voice carrying a resolute tone. "If Theon wishes to come along, then I won't be going," he declared, his decision unwavering. In the face of Aermir's unwavering stance, it was evident that a decision needed to be made. The air grew tense, and for a moment, silence reigned.

The unanimous decision was made, and Theon was left behind, watching as Aermir and the Stark siblings embarked on their hunting expedition with their dire wolves behind them. At first, the horses were afraid of Sith, but after, Aermir secretly cast a "dominate animal" spell on them. As he petted the horses, he whispered to them Sith was a friend and wouldn't hurt them.

Bran's eyes shimmered like crystal as he beheld the wondrous sight Aermir had conjured before him. His curiosity bubbled forth, and he couldn't help but ask in a rush of excitement, "How did you do this? Can we do it, too? Can you teach me?"

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Aermir chuckled at Bran's eagerness, "Wow, wow, wow... Slow down and take a breath. I am not your teacher anymore, remember? Yes, you can learn it if you put in the effort. I believe Druid Emrys will teach you when he finds the time."

Bran continued with his inquiries, genuinely intrigued, "Did you learn to do this from the Druid?"

While the Stark children might not possess mana hearts or the ability to cast magic, Aermir believed that, with his guidance and their innate warg abilities, they could learn to share emotions and soothe wild animals without warging into them. He planned to broach this idea the next time he visited Winterfell in his guise as Druid Emrys.

Meanwhile, Rickon, who had been quietly observing Bran's interaction with Aermir, couldn't help but snicker. He felt a special sense of pride, for he, alone among his siblings, knew Aermir's true identity as the Druid. Rickon relished in the knowledge that he possessed a secret none of his brothers knew, making him feel truly important. It felt funny to him, Bran was talking to the Druid himself and asking Druid if Aermir learned it from himself. Bran, noticing Rickon's laughter, furrowed his brow and inquired with mild irritation, "Why are you laughing?"

Rickon, always quick on his feet, decided to divert attention away from his secret knowledge. He replied with an air of nonchalance, "No reason. I just remembered something funny that Shaggydog did."

Without waiting for further questions, he scampered off to play with his wolf companion, Shaggydog. Leaving Bran to ponder that something was wrong with his brother. After a day filled with exhilarating hunting, they all gathered around a crackling campfire under the vast expanse of Northern stars, accompanied by the chill of the night. They enjoyed a hearty meal and indulged in some well-earned drinks. Bran, ever curious and eager to assert his growing maturity, attempted to sneak a sip of ale.

However, he was swiftly caught in the act by his vigilant older brother, Robb. With a playful yet stern expression, Robb reached over and gave Bran's ear a firm tug, reprimanding him,

"You're not old enough to drink, little brother. I'll pull your ear off if you try that again."

Bran's eyes welled up with tears as he begrudgingly responded,

"I'm not a child anymore. I've already seen thirteen name-days, and Aermir was out there fighting and defeating bandits at my age. I'm a great warrior of the North, too."

Though Bran attempted to maintain a facade of bravery, he couldn't hide the reddened ear he was now rubbing, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. In a moment of silent understanding, Jon, Robb, and Aermir exchanged amused glances before bursting into hearty laughter at Bran's earnest but futile attempt to assert his maturity.

After a hearty bout of laughter, Aermir playfully nudged Robb with his elbow, silently signaling him to let the young Bran have a taste of the ale. Aermir was fairly certain the boy wouldn't find the taste to his liking. With a resigned sigh, Robb offered his cup to Bran with a condition, "You can only take one sip."

Jon and Aermir fixed their attention squarely on Bran. The boy accepted the cup with some hesitation. Quickly tilting the cup to his lips, he just as swiftly recoiled, spewing the contents back into the cup. Bran opened his mouth wide, exhaling as if trying to expel the taste. It almost looked as though he was attempting to breathe fire. With watery eyes and a perplexed expression, Bran finally exclaimed, "Why are you drinking this shit!!"

As they heard this, the trio couldn't contain their laughter, which erupted once more. Robb wiped away tears of mirth from his eyes and chortled, "This just proves you're still a boy and not yet a man. If you can't appreciate the sweet bitterness of alcohol, it means you're not quite there yet."