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The Mountain's Range by The Passionate Admiral
 Books » A song of Ice and Fire Rated: M, English, Adventure & Suspense, Daenerys T./Dany, Jon S., Gregor C., Dacey M., Words: 854k+, Favs: 3k+, Follows: 3k+, Published: Sep 9, 2016 Updated: Nov 21, 2018 2,034Chapter 12: Clear Message
"Who?" Osmund Kettleback asked in confusion. He was not the only one who seemed unfamiliar with that name. Victarion Greyjoy, Garth Hightower, and Allard Seaworth appeared just as perplexed.
"He's the Lord of the Fingers," Lyn Corbray revealed, "A very minor lord, at that,"
"That's why he's called 'Littlefinger,'" Dacey Mormont added in.
Oberyn Martell smirked deviously and commented "Oh, I thought it was because-"
"Yes, thank you, Oberyn," Gregor Clegane hastily interrupted the Red Viper.
"Petyr can't be older than eighteen, my lord," Brynden Tully pointed out, "What possible reason would you have for wanting him dead?"
"I have several reasons, Ser Brynden," Gregor claimed, "Before I present them, I wish to make one thing clear. I am not forcing you to assassinate anyone. I will authorize this operation – and any future ones we plan – if an only if all nine of you consent to it. After I give my reasons for going after Lord Baelish, you will decide for yourselves whether or not they are sufficient to warrant his death. If you all agree, we go through with my plan. Otherwise, the plan dies here and now."
The other nine people looked back and forth between each other, as if they were wordlessly conversing. Ultimately, they all turned back to Gregor and nodded their agreement to his proposal.
Gregor then gazed over at the oldest person at the table and stated "Ironic how you of all the people present would ask for a reason first, Ser Brynden. After what Baelish did to your family…"
Raising an eyebrow, the Blackfish muttered "What are you talking about, my lord?"
Gregor elucidated with "Are you aware that not long before the Rebellion, your niece Lysa fell with child? Or that your brother Lord Hoster forced her to drink moon tea as a result?"
Brynden cocked his head and inquired skeptically "How do you know that?"
"I'll get to that soon," Gregor stated, "Tell me; who do you suppose fathered that bastard?"
The implication was enough to tip the Blackfish off. He mumbled "I knew Lysa and Petyr were close… but I never would have thought he'd dishonor her so. Apart from that, he seemed fonder of Catelyn. He fought a duel for her hand, after all."
"And lost," Gregor conceded, "But that does not keep him from fantasizing that he won. I've heard Littlefinger has often claimed to have taken the maidenheads of both of your nieces."
At that, Brynden jumped to his feet and snapped "That is outrageous."
"I know it's a lie, Ser," Gregor disclosed, "Baelish bedded Lysa twice, but he was drunk the second time and merely assumed she was Catelyn."
Ser Brynden was no longer the only one who was astonished by the scope of Gregor's insight.
"Where did you receive this information, my lord?" Garth Hightower queried.
"From the mouth of Lady Lysa herself," Gregor claimed. He sat up in his chair and elaborated with "Ever since I was appointed as Robert Baratheon's Master of Order, I have remained in contact with him and the rest of the Small Council. Particularly the Master of Whisperers. Lord Varys keeps me up to date on the affairs of the King's court. As well as what is said and done on the sidelines. That includes things that are not meant to be made public. Apparently, the Hand's wife recently confided in her maids that Petyr Baelish bedded her twice. Furthermore, she continues to keep correspondence with him behind Lord Jon's back."
Brynden scowled, sat back down roughly, and mumbled "That's enough to sway me. I say the worm dies."
"As am I," Osmund Kettleback pronounced, "Baelish insults the King and his Hand just by continuing to draw breath."
Gregor was pleased. He had already convinced two of his companions to go along with his plan. The other seven would evidently need more and better reasons before they conceded, though. Luckily, he had prepared some. But he had to be mindful of his presentation from his point onward. While the first reason had been entirely true, every subsequent reason had been embellished or fabricated in some way.
Gregor declared "By 'correspondence,' I do not mean Lady Lysa and Lord Peytr are simply exchanging letters with each other. According to the Spider, she is infatuated with him. So much so that when given the opportunity, Varys believes she would willingly have adulterous relations with him."
Brynden sighed and murmured "Lysa always did have the weakest restraint of all my brother's children."
Gregor nodded in acknowledgment and continued with "There is no doubt Lady Arryn still loves Baelish. He, however, does not reciprocate her feelings. But he is aware of them. Because of that, he's able to manipulate her to his will."
"Manipulate her how?" Lyn Corbray enquired.
"After the Rebellion, Lady Lysa persuaded Lord Jon to make Littlefinger the head of customs at Gulltown," Gregor Clegane revealed, "It was Lord Baelish's influence that made her do that. But that's only the beginning of his ambitions. The Spider discovered some very interesting things about him. Eventually, he intends to use Lysa to become the Master of Coin on the Small Council. Once he's secured his position in King's Landing, it's very well possible he will go so far as to con Lady Lysa into poisoning her husband."
"The lady adores him; yet he treats her like scum," Oberyn uttered angrily, "Any man who exploits women like that deserves to be put down."
"Do you honestly believe Petyr will try to kill Lord Jon?" Lyn Corbray queried.
"Lord Varys believes there's a very strong possibility," Gregor contended.
"Then I call for his head, too," Lyn pronounced, "Petyr and I were friends once, but my first duty is to my liege lord."
"I'm in, as well," Allard Seaworth said firmly, "My father serves Lord Stannis Baratheon. If there's one thing I've learned from them both, it's that anyone who routinely lies and cheats to make a living is a scoundrel. Baelish must atone for his crimes."
Five down, four to go.
"Let's imagine for a minute that Baelish actually did orchestrate the Hand's murder," Garth Hightower conjectured, "Would that be the end of his aspirations?"
"No, he'd still be closer to the beginning of them than the end," Gregor proclaimed, "Lord Varys and I arrived at the same conclusion about Baelish. We both believe he will not be satisfied until he has everything he could ever want. And there is little he does not want. If he had the chance, he would seize the Iron Throne for himself. He would even kill Lord Eddard Stark just so he could take Lady Catelyn as his bride."
"Normally, I would commend a man for being ambitious," Victarion Greyjoy commented, "But Baelish goes too far. Even the Ironborn do not reach beyond what is realistically in their grasp. He is a danger to us all, and he must be stopped."
"If he dares to endanger my liege lord's life and lust after his wife, then Littlefinger's life is as good as forfeit," Dacey sternly declared.
"My niece's husband sits the Iron Throne," Gerion remarked, "So far, they've ruled this country far better than the Mad King ever did. I'll kill anyone who threatens their reign."
The vote was nearly unanimous. Only one person had yet to give a verdict.
Gregor turned to that person and muttered "That leaves you, Garth. How we proceed is up to you now. Give me your approval, and we will eliminate Baelish. Otherwise, this plot dies right now."
The Reachman sat thinking in silence for a while. He did not like being put on the spot, but that was his own fault for speaking last. He avoided looking around the room, as all eyes were on him.
Ultimately, he let out a deep sigh and professed "Other than the words of a spider, we've no concrete evidence that Baelish actually will make a grab for power. Still, no good can come of a man like Baelish. So even if this is all a theory, Westeros would be better off without him."
Gregor Clegane grinned and gave a light nod. He announced "Then we're all in agreement. Petyr Baelish must die."
The Mountain spent the remainder of the meeting telling the others of his plan to deal with Littlefinger. They were there for nearly an hour, as he needed to be absolutely thorough and comprehensible.
When that meeting ended, he dispatched a raven to King's Landing. The letter was addressed to Varys.
Gregor knew better than to rely on the Spider too heavily, but in matters that concerned the safety of the realm, he knew he could trust Varys to assist him. They both knew what Littlefinger could be capable of, and they agreed that the realm would burn if he was left unchecked.
Aside from that, the Spider was already implicated in this scheme of Gregor's. As such, Gregor saw no reason not to involve Varys in a more direct fashion.
In the letter was a comprehensive outline of Gregor's plan to assassinate Littlefinger. In case anyone saw the letter before Varys disposed of it, Gregor composed the outline in the form of a passage of riddles.
The letter contained both a description of the plan to kill Petyr Baelish and a set of instructions for how Varys could play his part in the affair. All the Spider really had to do was whisper something into the King's ear.
On that he came through. Soon after Gregor wrote to Varys, Moat Cailin received a raven from King's Landing. The letter was pressed with the seal of the Royal House of Baratheon.
Gregor promptly opened the letter and read it. It was a royal order from King Robert.
Apparently, Robert had noticed that House Whent was in danger of facing extinction. Because of that, he would need someone else to assume the lordship of Harrenhal, in the event that the last of the Whents died out. Among the list of prospects, he was considering Petyr Baelish for the title.
That idea was not Robert's originally. It had been given to him by Lord Jon Arryn, who had received it from his wife Lady Lysa, who had heard it from Lord Varys. Varys himself had been told of the idea by Gregor.
When Gregor read Robert's order, he was essentially being told the premise of his own plan.
The details of how Robert expected him to carry out the order had been Gregor's, as well. As he reviewed them, he felt as though someone was commanding him to execute one of his own brainstorms.
Since Harrenhal was in the Riverlands, Lord Hoster Tully had to give his approval before any new lands were granted to someone from outside his domain. Due to the strained relationship between Lord Hoster and Lord Petyr, the matter of succession would require some mediation from an impartial third party. Having already gained a splendid reputation for its diplomacy, the Legion without Banners would act as that third party.
The Legion would also be responsible for ensuring that Baelish arrived at Riverrun safely. They would be with Littlefinger for every step of his journey. Gregor was to assign two platoons of Legionnaires to serve as Baelish's chaperone.
One platoon would travel to the Vale by land; the other by sea. The one that went by sea would pick him up at Gulltown, where he was serving as Lord Gerold Grafton's customs officer. Those units would escort him all the way to the Bloody Gate.
At the same time, the platoon that went by land would enter the Vale from the west on horseback. They would clear away any mountain clansmen that were camped near the path. Once the clansmen were successfully repelled, they would ride for the Bloody Gate. There they would rendezvous with Baelish and the first platoon. Altogether, they would head back through the mountains and make straight for Riverrun.
Naturally, the Legion would fail in their task of protecting Baelish, but Gregor was not concerned about backlash. It would not be the first time the Legion was unable to pull through. Plus, Gregor was already in the process of composing half a dozen different explanations for their failure. Whichever one he presented to Robert would depend on how the scenario played out.
A few days after receiving that raven from Robert, Gregor put his assassination plot into motion.
Victarion and his crew set sail from Moat Cailin on the Iron Victory. Allard, Garth, Osmund, and a handful of Legionnaires were also on board. They plotted a course directly for Gulltown. After they arrived, they would stay there for a single night. Then they would escort Baelish to the Bloody Gate as early as the following morning.
Based on Robert's letter, Lord Grafton and Littlefinger had already been informed of the latter's possible lordship of Harrenhal. So he would be ready to leave Gulltown whenever the first platoon of Legionnaires was ready.
As the Iron Victory navigated its way down the Cut, Gregor and his men-at-arms made their way down the Causeway. Dacey, Oberyn, Lyn, Brynden, and Gerion rode with them. They brought along the usual amount of provisions, weapons, and armor for a company that size.
However, Gregor had brought along an extra cart of steel-based weapons and armor. That intrigued some of his men, as most of them carried far superior chainmail and armaments. All the same, that cart was pivotal to Gregor's plan. Only his nine trustees knew that its contents would not be coming back. To some, that may have seemed a waste. But with all the revenue the Legion had earned lately, they could easily spare a cart of steel weapons and armors.
The march down the Neck was relatively quick and straightforward. Gregor and his company followed the Kingsroad south until they reached the crossroads with Masha Heddle's inn. They stayed there for the night, and then they continued their journey on the eastern road.
As soon as they passed into the Vale, Gregor had everyone in his party on full alert. It would not do for them to be caught by mountain clansmen unawares. But that was not to say he intended to avoid the mountain clans altogether.
In his youth, Gregor had done plenty of research on each of the nine regions of Westeros. For the Vale, one of the books he read was Archmaester Arnel's Mountain and Vale. The tome had included a thorough account of what Arnel regarded as the most notorious mountain clans in the region.
Alphabetically, he regarded the ten most infamous clans as the Black Ears, the Burned Men, the Howlers, the Milk Snakes, the Moon Brothers, the Painted Dogs, the Redsmiths, the Sons of the Mist, the Sons of the Tree, and the Stone Crows.
Of those ten, only four had been notably represented by the clansmen whom had entered Tyrion's services. Those were the Burned Men, the Stone Crows, the Moon Brothers, and the Black Ears.
Part of Gregor's plan involved making contact with one of those clans. After weighing the pros and cons of them all, he decided that the Black Ears were too extreme, the Moon Brothers were too few in number, and the Burned Men were too unpopular with the other clans.
The Stone Crows presented the best option. They were somewhat reasonable, their members were many, and they had the respect of most of the other mountain clans. Plus, they possessed the most named members out of all the mountain clans of the Vale.
According to Archmaester Arnel, the Stoned Crows' largest settlement was located fairly close to the road that led to the Bloody Gate. It could be found two miles north of the pathway and five miles east of the border to the Riverlands.
When they were three miles into the Vale, Gregor ordered his company to halt. Then he had them take inventory of their provisions, weapons, and armor. After that, he had everyone take what they would need for a short hike through the region. Everything else was hidden directly south of the road.
The spare cart of steel weapons and armor was kept separate from the other carts. Gregor and his units brought it with them on their hike. When they were about a mile north of the road, they hid the cart in a quarry. Like the other carts, no guards were posted around that cart; guards would only draw attention. It may have seemed risky and foolish to leave their baggage unattended, but Gregor was confident that their belongings would not be stolen whilst they were away.
As the only Valeman in the company, Lyn Corbray knew the landscape better than anyone else there. He rode at the head of the group as they made their way through the mountains.
After another three-quarters of a mile, he gestured for everyone to stop. He announced that he spotted some movement a few hundred feet up ahead.
He soon verified that the source of the commotion was a small group of mountain clansman. Given their location and garbs, they could only be Storm Crows. They were coming down the mountain, right towards the Legionnaires.
Gregor had already discussed with his party what they would do once they were noticed by the Storm Crows. He and a couple others would face the clansmen alone. Everyone else would hide, and they would come out when Gregor gave the signal. His hope was that it would be an effective display of force to get the Storm Crows to cooperate.
Right there, Gregor ordered the majority of his companions to vanish. They – along with their horses – rushed to find hiding spots in the immediate area.
Before long, everyone except Gregor, Dacey, and Polliver was out of sight. The three of them remained mounted, and they patiently yet anxiously waited for the Storm Crows to reach them.
Not five minutes later, twenty men entered the vicinity. They were armed with a variety of makeshift weapons, and they wore mismatched suits of mail. All of them were unshaven, unbathed, and appeared profusely inhospitable.
Gregor knew it was too late to have second thoughts about this part of his plan. He banished his fear to the back of his mind, and he stoically called out "Who approaches us?"
"Dolf, son of Holger," the man at the head of the group said brusquely, "Who trespasses on Storm Crow lands?"
"Gregor, son of Tarrence," the massive knight declared.
"Along with Dacey, daughter of Maege," his female colleague added in.
"And Polliver, son of… someone," his top man-at-arms finished. Sadly for him, Polliver's father had died when he was very young. He barely remembered anything about him, including his name.
Gregor and Dacey would have laughed, but they did not, as they were mindful of Polliver's feelings, and laughing seemed inappropriate at the time. The clansman laughed plenty, though.
"A giant, a woman, and one whose father was nameless," another Storm Crow perceived.
"We get lot of use out of you," a third Storm Crow muttered. Based on how he and his clanmates were eyeing Gregor, Dacey, and Polliver in bloodlust, longing, and curiosity respectively, he did not intend for each of them to serve the same form of "use."
"How quaint," Gregor drily commented, "We came here to get some use out of you."
That produced a wave of bafflement amongst all of the Storm Crows. Dolf queried "What meaning have you, giant?"
Gregor urged his horse forward a couple paces, and he said "You are native to this part of the Vale. The mountains are your domain, no?"
Dolf nodded and claimed "All mountains fall to us."
"Not all the mountains," Gregor cheekily countered. He pointed to himself and uttered "I have not bowed to you."
At that, the Storm Crows burst out laughing once more. As he chortled loudly, Dolf spat "You are mad. No mountain Dolf sees."
"I must disagree with Dolf," Gregor bluntly stated, "I am known far and wide as 'The Mountain That Rides.'"
The clansmen guffawed when they heard that. Gregor found himself in an interesting fix. A moment ago, his biggest, most immediate worry was surviving this encounter with the Storm Crows. Now, it was being taken seriously by them.
"There are no mountains that ride," a fourth Storm Crow debated.
"There is one now," Dacey Mormont heatedly refuted, "This mountain could ride all of you over."
The clansmen swiftly shifted their attention to the tall girl from Bear Island.
"Come down from that horse," a fifth Storm Crow suggested derisively, "Coratt son of Curtt will ride you all over."
Gregor grimaced and barked "Watch your tongue. Or you may find it parted from you."
Noting Gregor's reaction, Dolf commented "This man-mountain likes his mate overmuch, methinks,"
At first, Gregor was bewildered by that statement. "Excuse me?"
Then he realized what was meant by it. He vigorously shook his head and murmured hastily "No, no, no. NO. She is NOT my mate. I mean, my wife. She's not either. She and I are unrelated."
Dacey and Polliver seemed amused by how Gregor was fumbling for words. The Storm Crows gave less heed to his stammering.
A few seconds later, Gregor composed himself and shouted "Enough! We are not here to discuss who's fucking whom!"
That outburst was enough to get everyone back on track. Dolf leaned on his longaxe and inquired "Then why are you here, man-mountain?"
Gregor had taken a couple knives from the cart of steel. He got them out of his saddlebag and tossed them at Dolf's feet. Two of Dolf's men stepped forward to pick the blades up and examine them.
As they did that, Gregor announced "That's reinforced steel. Capable of cutting through bone as easily as lard. Those two knives by themselves are deadlier than all of the cheap iron all of you currently possess. They're yours now."
Dolf seemed intrigued, but Coratt, not so much. He made an observation that strangely mirrored the one his son Conn presented to Tyrion Lannister and Bronn. He murmured "They became ours the moment you stepped onto mountain. Everything we see on you is ours. Those are our horses. Those are our swords. That is our armor. She is our woman."
"Only in your most depraved fantasies, clansman," Dacey sharply retorted.
Gregor drew his own dagger and muttered threateningly "First man who touches her, I'll cut off his manhood and feed it to the goats."
Based on the books, that was one of the Storm Crows' favorite pastimes. Or maybe they were just overly fond of using that phrase. In any case, they appeared to be impressed with Gregor's candor. Especially since he had made that threat before they could.
"Ser… we don't have any goats," Polliver whispered to him.
"I can find one," Gregor said humorously. He then turned back to the Storm Crows and told them "Somewhere on this mountain, there is a whole cartload of steel weapons and armor. You work with us, and it's yours. You attack us, and you get nothing."
"We know all of mountain," Dolf contended, "We would find steel on our own if search long enough. No need you tell us where."
Gregor had expected something like that. But he was undeterred. He shrugged a bit and uttered "Let me explain what I mean by 'nothing.'"
He gave a sharp whistle that echoed all over the area. Immediately, Oberyn, Brynden, Gerion, Lyn, Rafford, Dunsen, Eggon, and the rest of Gregor's men-at-arms emerged from their hiding places. At least half of them were armed with longbows or crossbows. All such individuals had their weapons pointed directly at Dolf, Coratt, and the other Storm Crows.
Now Gregor and the mountain clansmen had switched places. Rather than launching an ambush, they had walked into one.
Many of the Storm Crows were itching to attack, but Dolf and Coratt managed to hold them back.
Gregor sternly warned them "One word from me, and they will fill you full of holes."
Finally, the clansmen were taking him seriously. Dolf glared at the massive knight and mumbled "What you want now, man-mountain?"
"Just one simple request, really," Gregor disclosed, "We need you to stage a raid."
"Stage?" Coratt enquired, seeming unfamiliar with that term.
Gregor briefly illuminated on what he meant. He wanted them to be part of what was basically a mummer's farce.
"There is nothing to be gained in this false raid," Dolf pointed out.
"Perhaps not," Gregor contented, "But there is a reward to be earned from it. You work with us, and that entire cart of steel is yours. Refuse, and we'll merely part ways. Engage us in combat, and you all die."
Dolf needed only a few seconds to respond. He stood up straight and pronounced "Come with us, man-mountain. You shall speak with Gurn, son of Gorik, chief of Storm Crows."
Gregor nodded in acknowledgment. Then he gestured for his soldiers to stand down, and he affirmed "We will follow."
Another quarter-mile higher, they came to the main Storm Crow settlement. It was larger (and much better organized) than Gregor had envisioned it would be. There they met with Gurn.
There were a trio of young boys in the settlement who spent a lot of time around Gurn, Dolf, and Coratt. Those must have been younger versions of Gunthor, Shagga, and Conn respectively.
For a hardened clan chief, Gurn was surprisingly receptive of Gregor and his company. That was probably just because of the steel that had been offered. But at least Gregor had some assurance that the clansmen could actually be reasoned with.
Gurn agreed to assist Gregor. But he claimed that before he and his clansmen could fight (or pretend to fight) for the Mountain, he wished to see how the Legionaries were in combat. They needed to prove their ability in an actual battle.
Gurn had the perfect opportunity for them to do so.
Recently, the Storm Crows had been in the midst of a power struggle with the Milk Snakes. The conflict had started out as a simple territorial dispute, but it had practically elevated into a full-out blood feud.
Gurn made a proposition of his own to Gregor: if the Mountain and his men helped the Storm Crows push back the invading Milk Snakes, not only would they go through with the false raid, but they would also come to his aid again if ever he needed them in the future.
Gregor found this to be an acceptable arrangement. Lately, the Milk Snakes had been making a lot of trouble for the Valemen, anyway. By resolving this conflict, this would also be the chance to neutralize yet one more threat to the realm.
Gurn offered Gregor and the other Legionnaires shelter for the night. While they were still wary of the Storm Crows, they did not wish to jeopardize their new temporary alliance. Since they would risk insulting Gurn by turning down his generous offer, they decided to accept it.
The Legionnaires set up camp close to the Stone Crows settlement. That night, they shared meat and mead, as well as tales of their deeds and exploits. No one on either side ever forgot how different they were from the other side, but for a while, it actually seemed to them that they were one people united together. That was a good sign in Gregor's mind.
In the middle of the night, Gregor was sitting at the campfire by himself. Rafford, Tobbot, and Ser Brynden were on guard duty. Just about everyone else was asleep.
Or so Gregor thought. As he kept warm, he heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind him. With one hand clasped around the hilt of his dagger, he gazed over his shoulder.
To his relief, it was only Dacey Mormont. The Mountain eased down and moved over to make room for the Bear Girl.
"Thank you," Dacey said appreciatively, sitting down next to Gregor.
"Anytime," he assured her.
The two of them sat in quietness for a couple minutes as they warmed themselves by the fire. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the embers.
Finally, she looked to him and stated suddenly "Gregor, may I speak to you on a personal subject?"
He glimpsed at her and answered with "Of course, Dacey."
The girl from Bear Island sat up and stated "Earlier, when we first encountered Dolf's party, do you remember what they said about me?"
"Yes, I do," Gregor recounted, "I think I know what you're about to say. You're going to insist that you could have handled yourself, and that you didn't need me to speak on your behalf."
"No, that's not what I was going to say," Dacey frankly pronounced, "When Dolf referred to me as your mate, you were very quick to contradict him."
Gregor merely shrugged and admitted "I suppose that's true."
Dacey folded her arms and uttered "Why was that? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not good enough for you?"
Gregor was stunned by the abrupt change in Dacey's tone. He hastily told her "No, absolutely not. I…I just did not wish to have any misunderstandings between us and the Storm Crows."
Dacey then eased down a little, nodded her head, and said "I can believe that."
Gregor was relieved to see her less aggravated. He then commented "Though, I will admit, I would have been content with that misunderstanding."
"Because if the clansmen believed I was spoken for, they would not have harassed me as much?" Dacey presumed.
"Well, that, and any decent man should feel honored even to be mistaken as your husband," Gregor clarified.
Almost immediately, Gregor realized that he had probably said too much. The expression on Dacey's face seemed to confirm that.
She proclaimed "Gregor, you do know I was just teasing you, right? I didn't really think you were repulsed by the idea of me being your wife."
"You're right; I'm not," Gregor confirmed, becoming a bit more emboldened, "Even if everything you just said was a jape, nothing I've said is."
For a while following that revelation, Dacey was speechless. She needed some time to reflect on what Gregor just told her. Then she settled down and muttered in interest "Tell me, Gregor. If you had any say over what your future bride will be like, what are the ideal qualities she'd have?"
Gregor considering not answering that question. Not only had it come out of nowhere, but he also felt there were so many ways it could produce an unpleasant response from Dacey if he was too direct. But then he reminded himself that Dacey had tremendous respect for honesty. If he was truthful with her, his answer should theoretically be enough to appease her.
Gregor thought on his response for a minute. Then he thought aloud "Unlike most lords, I'd prefer someone who is capable of independent thought. I would like her to be comely, and hopefully she'd have a womanly figure. It would be nice if she can fight and defend herself, as well. It'd like her to be intelligent and wise. I want her to have an open mind. I would expect her to be loyal, but not submissive. I'd wish for her to rule beside me, not behind me. Most of all…"
Dacey leaned closer, and she said inquiringly "What? What do you think is the most important aspect in a woman?"
Gregor was sorely tempted not to reply there. But he was in no position to back out. So he slowly turned to Dacey, looked her in the eye, and disclosed "I'd want her to like me."
The beautiful girl from Bear Island was visibly astonished when she was informed of that. That was the type of reply she would have expected from a lovesick teenager, a wandering singer, or an overly-sentimental poet. But to hear it from the mouth of the strongest and largest man in the entirety of Westeros… she was at a loss for words.
"Is that really what matters most to you in marriage?" Dacey queried, wanting to be certain.
"Marriage is a binding of two people," Gregor contended, "What good is that binding if there is no love involved? In the long run, does anything else truly matter?"
"Those are fine points," Dacey professed, "Given how popular you've become lately, it's perfectly realistic for you to want a bride who has feelings for you. After everything you've done as Master of Order, there are a whole lot of women in this country that like you. Including me."
"I'd call that a step in the right direction," Gregor wryly stated.
After that, the two Legionnaires sat in silence for a while. They gave more of their focus to the campfire than to each other.
Finally, Gregor rose from his seat, stretched, and declared "I'm going to turn in."
"Alright," Dacey avowed, "Hope you sleep well."
"Thanks," Gregor told her, "You, too. Assuming you actually go to sleep, that is."
"Oh, I intend to sleep," Dacey insisted, "But before I do, I'd like to have some alone. I've got some thoughts I'd like to get in order."
"I bet you do," was Gregor's candid response.
Gregor then retreated to his tent, where he undressed down to his tunic and breeches. He kept his longsword nearby, just in case anything happened in the night.
As he gradually drifted away to into a somewhat uneasy slumber, Gregor reflected on the conversation he just had with his female colleague.
She's not the only one who has some thinking to do. This was the first time she and I really opened up to each other.
Maybe Sandor was right about the possibility that I will marry a Northwoman. If so… I suppose I needn't look any further. Because I honestly can't imagine a better option than Dacey. Even if I account for all the highborn girls that were just born or will be born soon.
Who knows? She could very well feel just the same about me. Maybe next time we sit around the campfire together, I can ask what her ideal husband would be like. If I'm anything like him, then I'm in luck. Even if by some chance I'm not, at least I'll know enough to form the groundwork of a meaningful and lasting relationship with Dacey.
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Jump:Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57Chapter 58Chapter 59Chapter 60Chapter 61Chapter 62Chapter 63Chapter 64Chapter 65Chapter 66Chapter 67Chapter 68Chapter 69Chapter 70Chapter 71Chapter 72Chapter 73Chapter 74Chapter 75Chapter 76Chapter 77Chapter 78Chapter 79Chapter 80Chapter 81Chapter 82Chapter 83Chapter 84Chapter 85
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