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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 13: Developments
Note: Some people have questioned the validity of how Gregor's nine companions were so readily willing to go along with his plans to exterminate the more deplorable characters in Westeros without hard evidence. Looking back on it, I realize that the whole matter was put together a little flimsily, and it was not as coherent as I had envisioned it to be. I've already revised my outline for that part of this fanfic. The previous chapters will remain as they are, but the future chapters should be much more believable.
By the way, I'm going to be busy for the following week. In addition to work and graduate school, this weekend, I'll be attending the Nightmare Nights convention in Dallas. So there probably won't be another update for at least a week. But things will be getting good, I assure you.
Gregor crept quietly up the hill, clutching his shield in his left hand. Oberyn Martell and Rafford the Sweetling moved stealthily alongside him. Both men were armed with spears, their signature weapon of choice.
They were being led to higher ground by Dolf and two of his men. Like his son Shagga, the son of Holger was a dual-wielder. He carried a battleaxe in either hand. Despite his barbaric appearance and mannerisms, he moved with the silence and subtlety of a professional assassin.
When they reached the top of the hill, the six men crouched down and peered cautiously over the edge.
Just as Gurn had forecasted, there was a Milk Snakes camp in the valley below. The camp was bustling with activity.
There had to be at least sixty Milk Snakes in this one camp. There were no women or children, from what Gregor could see. That was fortunate; he still tried to avoid incurring those types of casualties, even if they belonged to savage cultures.
The Milk Snakes certainly were savage. However uncivilized the Stone Crows seemed, the Milk Snakes were even less well-mannered. The Stone Crows at least had some form of communal unity that kept them together. Gregor witnessed a general lack of cooperation between the Milk Snakes.
Even so, they did appear to be rather formidable warriors. The average Milk Snake was a little larger and stronger than the average Storm Crow, and they appeared far less capable of being reasoned with.
It was very early in the morning. Most of the Milk Snakes were just waking up. Those that had were in the process of disassembling tents, sharpening swords, and saddling their mounts (what few there were, anyway). Strangely, none of them was making the time to break his fast.
"Looks like they're getting ready to move," Rafford observed.
"They seem in a hurry," Oberyn noted.
"Milk Snakes plan to attack Storm Crow camp," Dolf proclaimed.
"How can you be sure?" Gregor inquired.
"Because Dolf knows Milk Snakes," the clansman remarked.
"Good enough for me," Gregor muttered drily.
They remained kneeling for a few minutes. In that time, they constantly shifted their gaze between the dell and the hills around it. If they squinted close enough, they could see the heads of their comrades peeking over the tops of those hills. The Legionnaires and the Stone Crows had the Milk Snake camp surrounded on all sides.
"We should still have the element of surprise," Rafford contended.
"For now," Oberyn commented. He pointed out the eastern mountains. There was a faint haze of natural light forming in the distance. "The Sun's starting to rise over the horizon."
"We attack now or not at all," Dolf declared.
The five men turned to Gregor. Gurn had given the Mountain full command over this operation. The others were waiting for his signal to engage the enemy.
After a few seconds, Gregor lowered the visor on his helm, drew his longsword from its sheath, and told his companions "Make them bleed."
He then rose to his full height, held his sword high in the air, and let out a terrifying battle cry.
Immediately, Gregor and everyone in his company emerged from their cover and charged down into the dell. Most of them let out a battle cry of their own as they sprinted downwards. The Milk Snakes were still trying to pinpoint the source of Gregor's shout when the Legionnaires and the Stone Crows were upon them.
The area was filled with the sounds of steel against iron. More often than not, steel triumphed over iron.
Gregor caught a glimpse of Oberyn running his spear through an armored Milk Snake warrior. A few meters away, Brynden Tully was fending off three more Milk Snakes by himself.
Before long, any of the Milk Snakes that had been asleep no longer were. They grabbed for their weapons, emerged from their tents, and rushed into the fray. They were very quick to respond to this sudden threat.
One of the new arrivals spotted Gregor and ran towards him, swinging a cleaver. Gregor quickly lifted his weapon to intercept the blow. He parried with the Milk Snake for ten seconds as he studied his opponent for an opening. Then he noticed a weak spot in the center of the Milk Snake's breastplate. When the warrior took another swing at him, Gregor caught his weapon with his shield, pushed the blade aside, and shoved his sword into the center of the Milk Snake's chest.
Gregor had already withdrawn his sword and moved on to his next opponent before the first one had even collapsed onto the ground.
He was quickly approached by a Milk Snake with a longaxe. Gregor was able to counter his blows easily. This Milk Snake's fighting style was too sloppy to be regarded as much of a challenge. When the warrior leaned back to strike Gregor from above, the Mountain rammed his shield into his face and slashed at his upper body with his sword. The Milk Snake's shoulder was practically severed from his neck. He sputtered noisily and fell onto his chest.
Not five seconds later, Gregor faced a third opponent. This one brandished a spear. Gregor had spent enough time training with Prince Oberyn to learn how to evade a charge with a spear. When this Milk Snake reached Gregor, he thrusted his weapon at the massive knight. Gregor dodged the stab and hacked at the assailant's neck. Almost right away, blood started leaking from the slit in the Milk Snake's throat. He dropped his spear, grasped his throat with both hands, and dropped onto his back.
Gregor had killed three men in under a minute. None of them was the camp leader, though. As disorganized as the Milk Snakes were, so long as their chiefs lived, they had some order. Once the leaders fell, their subordinates would lose all discipline.
Gregor brought it upon himself to seek out the chief of this camp. All around him, people were fighting and dying. As he made his way through the camp, Gregor traded blows with two more Milk Snakes, and he cut down all of them swiftly.
However, he was so preoccupied with his search for the leader of the camp that he did not notice another of the Milk Snakes sneaking up behind him. This one wielded a greatsword. He was smaller, more agile, and faster than most of his fellow clansmen. He stealthily approached Gregor whilst his back was turned, and he raised his greatsword into the air. He was about to hack at the small visible bit of skin between Gregor's helm and shoulder plates.
Gregor managed to glimpse the assailant out of the corner of his eye, and he hastily maneuvered to meet the new foe. Right before the Milk Snake could deliver a blow, a crunching sound emanated from the immediate vicinity.
The mountain clansman was frozen in his attack stance with his greatsword in midair. Gregor positioned his shield in front of his torso defensively, but in this situation, his shield was unneeded. As it turned out, so was his sword.
A moment later, the clansman dropped to his knees, and then he fell flat on his face. Gregor realized an axe was imbedded in the Milk Snake's skull.
When he looked up, he saw the owner of that axe. It was Dacey. She was standing over the Milk Snake with her left arm outstretched. She held her sword in her right hand.
Gregor smiled at the tall girl and said appreciatively "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Dacey asserted. She leaned down and yanked her axe free from the Milk Snake's head.
Gregor and Dacey cautiously made their way through the camp. Before long, they encountered the leader of the camp. He was a fearsome, gigantic man armed with two bastard swords. He also carried a dagger in his teeth, which he was just as deft with.
He had just killed two Stone Crows singlehandedly when Gregor and Dacey stumbled upon him. He shifted his focus to the Mountain and the girl from Bear Island. He snarled wickedly and rushed at them. Two of the chief's warriors rushed to reinforce before either Gregor or Dacey could engage him.
Dacey busied herself with the new underlings whilst Gregor took on the chief. The chief turned out to be a formidable adversary, but he was no match for the discipline and brute strength of The Mountain That Rides.
The fight was over almost before it began. Less than ten seconds into the duel, Gregor managed to disarm the Milk Snake leader long enough to jump behind him and slash at his neck. As a result, the back of his throat was sliced open. Another two inches and he would have decapitated him.
His head remained attached to his body. But it made no matter. The Milk Snake chief groaned in agony and sank to the ground.
After the Milk Snake leader fell, the battle was resolved very quickly. It was an overwhelming victory on the part of the Legion and the Stone Crows. Every one of the Milk Snakes had fallen in battle.
Of course, Gregor's forces had not been without losses. Three of his men-at-arms were lost in the skirmish. Gurn, Dolf, and Coratt all survived, luckily. But eight of the Stone Crows had perished, including Jaggot.
Still, a total of eleven casualties was not devastating, considering the seventy-plus enemies they had faced.
As the Tickler and some of the other men-at-arms tended to the wounded, everyone else checked to ensure that all of the Milk Snakes were indeed dead.
At one point, Gregor came across a Milk Snake with a particular helm. He recognized it quickly. It was the standard helm worn by a standard Northman soldier. Its structure indicated that it was the most modern version of the helm. It could not have been forged more than five years ago.
That struck Gregor's curiosity. He removed the helm from the dead Milk Snake and looked around for the sole female in his party. When he sighted her, he called out "Hey, Dacey."
The tall girl turned to the massive knight, walked over to him, and asked "Yes, Gregor?"
"Look what I found," he stated, showing her the helm.
Dacey took the headgear in both her hands and examined it closely. She raised an eyebrow and remarked "Interesting…"
"Tell me," Gregor bade her, "When was the last time a Northman was lost in the Vale?"
She rubbed her chin and thought aloud "Well, Lord Eddard was fostered by Lord Jon Arryn at the Eyrie. But he always travelled to the Vale by sea from White Harbor. As far as I know, no one from the North has used the road to the Bloody Gate in at least fifty years."
"Then how could this have gotten here?" Gregor wondered.
"I don't know," Dacey confessed, gazing down at the helm, "Let's see if we can find the set of armor this thing went with."
None of the fallen Milk Snakes wore any armor of Northern design. However, Gregor and Dacey managed to locate a tent that had been utilized by the Milk Snakes as their arsenal. They found a wide variety of armaments and protective garments in there. Among them were a breastplate, gauntlets, boots, a shirt of mail, and a doublet; all Northern in origin. The breastplate and shirt of mail were lightly stained with blood; the stain appeared to be over three years old.
Obviously, whoever wore this armor had been ambushed and killed by the Milk Snakes. The armor must have been subsequently stolen by them.
But if that happened approximately four years ago…
This couldn't be…?
Gregor tentatively picked up the doublet and searched through its pockets. The outer pockets were empty, but when he frisked the inner pockets, he heard what sounded like the rustling of paper.
Gregor reached into the deepest pocket, and he pulled out an old piece of paper. It appeared to be a letter. The seal had yet to be broken, but the wax was marked by the gray direwolf of House Stark.
So that's what became of the rider that was dispatched to the Vale.
Gregor made a note to bring this up to Oberyn later when the two of them were alone. He would also have to inform everyone else who had been at the Tower of Joy, including the woman who sent it.
Dacey was standing a meter directly behind Gregor, so she had yet to see the letter. She asked him "Did you find anything?"
Gregor hastily tucked Lyanna's unopened letter into his hauberk, and then he pronounced "No, the Milk Snakes must have taken everything of value."
At that, Dacey merely nodded in acknowledgment and said "We should get back to the others."
"Right," was all Gregor said in response.
Gregor and Dacey regrouped with the other Legionnaires and the Stone Crows. There they discussed the rest of Gregor's plan. Gregor went over it three times, just to ensure that there was no confusion.
Dolf and his warriors remained at the camp. After disposing of the corpses, they dressed themselves in the trademark attire of the Milk Snakes, and they passed themselves off as the original inhabitants. Essentially, the Stone Crows were supposed to fool anyone who came by – especially other mountain clansmen – into thinking that they were the Milk Snakes.
At the same time, Gregor and his men continued on to the Bloody Gate. It took less than a day to get there.
Before he joined the Legion without Banners, Brynden Tully had served as Knight of the Gate for a time. When he left, he was replaced by Ser Gilwood Hunter.
Ser Gilwood still held that position, and he manned the Gate diligently.
Victarion's platoon was already there. They had been there for a couple days, and they had impatiently waited for Gregor's platoon to arrive.
When they finally rendezvoused, Victarion and his crewmates vocally expressed their dissatisfaction about having to traverse over land. Gregor had anticipated those complaints, but he simply disregarded them. In a united Westeros, the Ironborn would have to get accustomed to sometimes riding instead of boating.
On the plus side, Victarion had come through in his primary objective. He had efficaciously escorted Petyr Baelish all the way from Gulltown to the Bloody Gate.
That was the first – and only – time Gregor actually met Littlefinger. He was a shorter than the average man. He looked to Gregor the way Tyrion would look to an average-sized person. He had already grown his signature pointed beard. Other than that, he had a distinct lack of facial hair.
Unlike the Ironmen, Baelish had not complained about anything. However, he had a pair of very wary and mistrustful eyes. That alone spoke volumes of his persona. The eyes watched Gregor closely with obvious skepticism.
Gregor casually approached the younger man and told him in a tone of false courtesy "Greetings, Lord Petyr."
"Hello, Lord Gregor," Baelish uttered plainly, his arms folded.
"I hope we have not kept you waiting for too long," Gregor commented.
"You did not," Baelish claimed, "But I would like to take to the road as soon as possible."
"Just as soon as we're refreshed," Gregor asserted.
To Gregor's good fortune, no one outside of the Legion had accompanied Baelish to the Bloody Gate. He had been concerned that some of the soldiers sworn to House Baelish or a few of Lord Grafton's knights might have joined the company.
It could not have been an easy task to convince Littlefinger to forgo the protection of the people in his own employ or House Grafton's. Somehow, Allard, Garth, and Osmund had pulled through in that regard, just as they had assured Gregor they would. It had fueled Baelish's suspicions even further than before, though.
Gregor had allowed for Petyr's bodyguard, Ser Bertom Lynderly, to join them. He felt that one man would not make any negative difference. Plus, if Gregor's plan was to be executed correctly, it would need a detached witness.
After taking a couple hours to eat and rest, Gregor gave the order to set off again. He, Baelish, and all the present Legionnaires stepped back through the Bloody Gate and headed back down the main road.
The ride back to the west was relatively calm. On their first pass, Gregor's platoon had taken the time to ensure that no other mountain clans were camped near the road. They had confirmed that no one other than the Stone Crows and the Milk Snakes (or "Milk Snakes") were within reach of the road. As such, Gregor knew his company would not face any delays. No unexpected ones, at any rate.
When they were halfway to the border of the Riverlands, Petyr brought his horse alongside Gregor's. He requested "A word, my lord?"
Gregor turned to the short man and asked rhetorically "How can I help, my lord?"
"There's one thing I find curious about this adventure," Baelish disclosed, "Why are we travelling the whole way to Riverrun by a land route? It would have taken just as much time – probably less – if Victarion Greyjoy picked me up at Gulltown and then delivered me to another maritime town. Couldn't his crew have sailed me to Saltpans or Maidenpool? In fact, the Iron Victory could have gone north towards the mouth of the Green Fork and followed the Trident all the way to Riverrun. So why was land travel even necessary?"
Given how observant and astute Baelish had been in the original universe, Gregor had already considered the likelihood that Petyr would question their method of travel. His theory was well-founded, seeing as how Petyr had become suspicious as to why they were trekking to Riverrun by horse alone.
Gregor did not have to conjure up an elaborate explanation. He simply told Littlefinger "The method of travel was per the King's orders. He was very specific about how we were supposed to carry out this mission. For whatever reason, he puts far more trust in horses than in ships."
Gregor suspected that successfully lying to Littlefinger would be a chore in itself, but Baelish seemed to swallow that one. He lightly shrugged and uttered "I'm honestly not surprised. The King's parents died at sea, after all. And he's well-renowned as a warrior. Other than the Ironborn, what warrior doesn't love horses?"
"Precisely, my lord," Gregor conceded, "Personally, I think we could have afforded to pick you up somewhere along the northeastern coast in the Crownlands. A port in the Riverlands would have been even better. But it is not my place to protest the King's commands. You needn't worry, though. I personally believe horses are far more reliable than ships."
"We can agree on that much, my lord," Bertom Lynderly proclaimed from behind Petyr Baelish.
"At least the sights on land are far more breathtaking," Oberyn Martell interjected, adding his own thoughts to the conversation.
"Very true," Brynden Tully concurred.
The dialogue more or less ceased there. A few miles further down the road, Gregor raised his hand in the air. Straightaway, everyone brought their horses to a halt.
"Something wrong, my lord?" Dunsen inquired. He had been practicing that line all day, but luckily, it did not sound as though it had been rehearsed.
"It's too quiet," Gregor claimed, gazing around the vicinity, "Yesterday, this area was teeming with the noises of wildlife. Now… I hear nothing. It's as though all the animals have suddenly vanished."
"They may have migrated," Allard Seaworth offered.
"Or… they were hunted," Garth Hightower nervously supposed.
Both men sounded quite believable. Their delivery was sufficient to get Petyr Baelish and Bertom Lynderly to become restless.
"But no one hunts in these mountains," Lyn Corbray debated. He paused for emphasis, and then he added in "Except…"
Gregor turned to his front and shouted "Swords!"
In the span of the next ten seconds, everyone in that company – excluding Baelish – drew a blade. Petyr did not have a dagger. Of course, he never had a dagger, contrary to what he told Catelyn in another universe.
Baelish did seem a little comforted when he was surrounded by armed soldiers. However, unbeknownst to him, all those brandished weapons would not guarantee his safety. As a matter of fact, they played a part in Littlefinger's downfall.
Gregor and the Stone Crows had decided to use this area to stage the false raid. The Mountain had instructed the clansmen to wait for a signal before they launched their attack. The sight and sound of the Legionnaires collectively unsheathing their weapons was that signal.
The moment after all that steel was exposed, the Stone Crows jumped from their hiding spots and charged down to the road.
Gregor quickly turned his gaze upward, feigning alarm. He shouted in mock surprise "Milk Snakes!"
Dolf and the other Stone Crows were still disguised as Milk Snakes, so that accusation was very credible. Gregor looked over his shoulder at Bertom Lynderly. The knight was staring in shock at the clansmen. Gregor had to resist the desire to smile. Whenever he was questioned later on, Ser Bertom would tell everyone it was the Milk Snakes that had ambushed Gregor's party.
In less than a minute, the "Milk Snakes" reached the Legionnaires. Gregor and his associates remained mounted while they parried the blows of the clansmen. They had to be quickly with their weapons, in order for their routine to appear realistic.
It certainly felt realistic to Gregor. It was just as exhilarating as a real battle, and it kept him ever vigilant and cautious.
Petyr Baelish made a desperate attempt to retreat from all the conflict. Bertom Lynderly tried to guide his charge away from all the scuffles.
But their efforts were wasted. Soon enough, Baelish and Ser Bertom were seized by the clansmen and pulled down from their horses.
The clansmen were rough with Ser Bertom, but all they really did was knock him unconscious. They managed that without inflicting any permanent damage on the knight.
Baelish was not as lucky. After he was flung onto the ground, he was surrounded by Coratt and several other Stone Crows. They each proceeded to stab him in every conceivable part of his body multiple times. Gregor heard an ear-piercing shriek as Baelish was knifed to death by the mountain clansmen.
When the shriek finally subsided, Gregor yelled over all the commotion "All clear!"
At that, the Legionnaires and the Stone Crows alike broke off their attacks. Apart from Ser Bertom, no one else was injured. The only additional casualty was Baelish.
Gregor had his horse trot over to the spot where Littlefinger had fallen. His remains had been mangled almost beyond recognition. But anyone who knew Baelish would not confuse his body for anyone else's.
The Mountain smiled at the clansmen and told them "Superbly done, my friends."
"Friends are we, man-mountain?" Dolf said sharply.
Gregor shrugged and commented "Partners in justice, instead, perhaps."
"I could get used to this form of justice," Osmund Kettleback stated wryly.
"We do our part, man-mountain," Coratt interjected, "We expect cart of steel now."
"You shall have it," Gregor assured him.
Gregor had Baelish's body loaded onto one of the supplies carts. He had Ser Bertom's unconscious form placed on another one. After that, the Stone Crows and the Legionnaires resumed heading westward.
They stayed together until they reached the spot where Gregor had hidden the cart of steel-based armor and weapons. After the cart was unloaded of all its contents, the Stone Crows were quick to take possession of them. After that, they gave their farewells and headed back to their settlement. Once again, the Legionnaires had the same numbers they had when they left the Bloody Gate. The only difference was that two of their company were in an alternate state of being.
The Legion managed to get through the Vale without any more incidents with the mountain clans. Even after they crossed over into the Riverlands, they did not look back until the mountains were far off in the distance. Even then, they did not stop.
Gregor did not allow the company to rest until they were well past the Twins. When they were nearly in sight of the Neck, they finally stopped to make camp.
Gregor planned to turn in early that night. It would be the most pleasant night's sleep he had gotten in a long while.
However, before he went to bed, he decided to talk to someone. For the past couple days, an issue of a far more personal nature had been occupying a large part of Gregor's mind. He had resolved to push it aside until the problem of Littlefinger was settled. Now that it was, he could focus on the personal affair.
In the late evening, shortly after supper, Gregor went to Dacey Mormont's tent. He lightly tapped on the front of it.
A moment later, Dacey responded with "Yes?"
"Are you decent?" Gregor queried.
"Depends on what you mean by 'decent,'" she cockily rejoined.
"Are you presentable?" he clarified with a scoff, "Specifically, presentable enough that you would face me?"
"Yeah, I suppose so," she declared, "Come on inside."
Gregor pulled open the flap and stepped into the tent.
As an officer of the Legion without Banners, Dacey had a respectably large tent. A table, a couple of chairs, and a small bed could fit in there, and it was so tall that even Gregor could stand in it without crouching. It was also big enough to accommodate two people. Not that its size would give Gregor any impure ideas.
But Dacey's current apparel might have done so.
The Bear Island girl had been in the process of undressing for bed. She was clad only in a loose pair of breeches and a corset. This corset was very different from the type women generally wore with dresses. It had been designed specifically for Dacey to enhance her form in combat situations.
The corset was tied securely around her chest, but it was also low-cut. It accentuated her full, round breasts very nicely, and it emphasized her womanly curves. Had it ended two inches lower, Dacey's nipples would have been on display.
"This is 'presentable?'" Gregor uttered, trying not to snicker. Or to stare.
Dacey smirked and pointed out "You just said presentable enough that I'd be able to face you."
Gregor chuckled at that and mumbled humorously "Clearly, 'shame' is not in your vocabulary."
As it happened, all Gregor wore at that time was a leather doublet and a pair as trousers. So it was not as though he was clad in much more than Dacey. But at least he wore enough that he could go outside without turning any heads.
Dacey sat down at one of the chairs at the table. She gestured for Gregor to take the other chair. Once he did, he gazed off to the side, as though lost in contemplation.
He just sat and wondered how to open up the conversation. For once, he was not coming to Dacey to discuss strategies, battle plans, or training schedules. Instead, he would be conversing on a more intimate topic.
Flirting had never been one of Gregor's strong suits. He was well-acquainted with the opposite sex, but he was not very good at coming up with pickup lines.
Ultimately, Gregor decided to open the discussion by speaking of a totally unrelated topic. He clasped his hands together and stated candidly "So… that business with Littlefinger… it went well, did it not?"
"I'll say it did," Dacey conceded with a smile.
Gregor looked to her and murmured "Tell me truthfully; do you think we did right?"
"Do you?" she countered.
"Yes, I do," Gregor revealed, "But I care about your thoughts, as well."
Dacey gave a nod and proclaimed "Baelish dishonored a Great Lord's daughter, he manipulated her into boosting his status in the world, he would have continued to do so at the expense of those around them, and there is every possibility that the realm would have suffered because of his greed. We may have spared the realm a great amount of agony. So, yes. Killing Baelish was the right thing to do."
Gregor was pleased to know that she agreed with him. The opinions of his colleagues were very meaningful and important to him. He enquired in interest "Anything you would have done differently?"
Dacey answered him with "Well, the only way the outcome would have been better is if it produced no casualties on our part. I know our losses were minimal, but they were still incurred. You lost three of your men-at-arms."
Gregor frowned slightly and muttered "True, I'm afraid. None of them were among my top officers, but they were good men. They had something that made each of them unique. Umrich was always making people laugh, Abbert was a fantastic archer, and Mylo never hesitated to comfort a hurt friend."
"All desirable qualities," Dacey commented, "Too bad they had to fall in battle."
Gregor nodded his head. Right then, he spotted an opportunity to transition into a more sensual topic. He looked to Dacey and stated "On the subject of the battle… I didn't get a chance to properly show my appreciation to you for saving my life."
"You did say 'thanks,'" Dacey humorously recounted.
"Actually, I wanted to show my appreciation with more than words," Gregor informed her.
She rested against her arm and queried "How so?"
Gregor then leaned forward, gently took ahold of Dacey's shoulders, and kissed her softly on both cheeks.
The Bear Island girl was stunned by this display of affection, but she did not reject Gregor's advances.
"I wouldn't mind that form of appreciation from you, Gregor," Dacey told him with a smile, "But isn't that behavior usually reserved for married or betrothed couples?"
"That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about," he enlightened her. He sat back in his chair and said inquiringly "Are you… involved in any potential marriage contracts?"
Normally, people did not ask questions of such a personal nature, but Dacey had never been one to shy away from matters that were generally private.
She informed the Mountain "I'm not in any haste to get wed. Even so, my mother has suggested a few possible matches for me."
"Any that really stood out?" Gregor queried in interest.
Dacey thought about that, and then she recounted "First, she proposed Lord Rickard Karstark's eldest son, Harrion. The idea of being Lady of Karhold did sound appealing, but nothing was made definite. My mother also proposed Robett Glover, Robin Flint, and Wendel Manderly. For a while, she even considered Benjen Stark. Then he went off and joined the Night's Watch. Oh, well. A Stark is probably too high above in status for a Mormont, anyway."
"Bullshit," Gregor debated, "The Starks may be the great house of the North, but your house is just as honorable and praiseworthy. Saying you're not good enough for a Stark or anyone else is ludicrous."
"Well, thank you for saying that," Dacey told him gratefully.
Gregor smiled at her again. Then he enquired "Did your mother ever consider anyone from outside the North?"
"No," the bear girl disclosed, "Not yet, that is."
"What about you?" Gregor proposed, "Did the thought of marrying outside the North ever enter your mind?"
"For most of my life, no," Dacey claimed, "But recently, I got the idea to do so."
"When was this?" Gregor inquired.
"Shortly after I enlisted in the Legion," Dacey illuminated.
It was not difficult for Gregor to imagine what – or who – had planted that thought in Dacey's mind. So far, they had spoken with some degree of subtlety. But neither Gregor nor Dacey was fooling themselves or each other.
Gregor let out a slow breath and remarked "The other night, I told you what I would view as the ideal characteristics for my future bride to have. Now, I'd like you to do the same. If you had any say over what your future groom will be like, what would he be like?"
Dacey took a minute to think about that. Then she professed "I'd want him to be strong and firm. But he wouldn't have to resort to violence or threats in order to get people to follow and respect him. Hopefully, he'd also be rational, sensible, and smart. I'd deem myself especially lucky if he allowed me to continue training and fighting alongside him and his soldiers. I wouldn't want him to be in any rush to have children, but I'd definitely want him to be open to having them, too. However, to me, the most important feature is… is…"
"Go on," Gregor beckoned her.
Dacey released a soft sigh and admitted "It's the same as yours. What matters to me most is not his status or his strength, but whether or not he likes me. I'd hate to get caught in a loveless marriage."
Then it appears we're at an advantage.
Gregor smirked and uttered slyly "It just so happens that I like you. Very much, in fact."
"I know you do," Dacey muttered drily, "And I like you. But, of course, I already told you that. Even so, I thought that'd be obvious. I mean, we're already on a first name basis, are we not, Gregor?"
"Yes, we are," the Mountain affirmed. There came a lengthy pause in the tent. Gregor spent most of it staring at the wall. Finally, he turned back to the tall girl and told her "Dacey, I'm going to ask you a very personal question. I want you to answer it with total honesty."
"Alright," Dacey conceded.
There was another short interval of quietness, and then Gregor turned to Dacey, looked her in the eye, and asked without blinking "Could you… see yourself with me?"
Dacey did not give a verbal response right away. She must have seen that question coming. Even so, she appeared surprised by it. After an uncomfortable silence, she gently placed her hands on top of Gregor's and gave him her answer: "Truthfully, I… I can, Gregor. In fact… I can see myself better with you than just about any other man in Westeros."
A wide smile extended across the Mountain's face. He took Dacey's hands in his own and revealed "I feel much the same about you, Dacey. Most lords may be content with having a wife that will be faithful and give them heirs. But what I'd like to have is a wife that's capable of joining her husband on the battlefield and fighting alongside him. I would also like one who is not afraid to speak her mind."
"I always speak my mind," Dacey pointed out.
"I know you do," Gregor contended. "From what I gather, I am very close to your ideal preference for a husband. Meanwhile, you are very close to my ideal preference for a wife. You could say that you and I seem perfect for each other. So much so that I say we should do something about it."
Dacey cocked her head and asked attentively "Are you asking me to wed you, Gregor?"
"You could say that," Gregor alleged, "But I only want you to accept my offer if you truly desire to."
It only took Dacey a few seconds to make a decision. She looked Gregor in the eye and told him "When we return to Moat Cailin, I'm going to write to my mother. I'll ask her to give us her blessing."
Gregor grinned at her and stated "I shall count the days until I meet her."
He then leaned forward, gently took ahold of the back of Dacey's head, and softly pressed his lips against hers. In response, she closed her eyes, placed her hands on Gregor's shoulders, and returned the kiss with the true passion of the Northwoman she was.
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