The next day, Jon helped Androw don his completed armor, ensuring there was no discomfort while wearing it. The boy, his voice naive and hopeful, asked, "Is that okay?"
Androw smiled and jumped a couple of times. "It's a bit heavier than I thought. Still... it's good. It's okay."
Jon, a twelve-year-old boy around the same age as Aerea, ran to pick up the recently forged sword for Androw to try. Androw picked up the sword and drew it. Unlike the armor, the sword retained its dull metal luster, not blackened with oil. He glanced at his reflection on the blade. It had been more than a year since he had come to this world. His eyes had dulled a bit, much like the northerners. His beard had grown all over his face, and his skin had light tanned. He found he didn't look anything like the Androw he once was.
Androw smiled at himself. Jon, curious, called him, "Master?" The boy wondered why Androw was smiling.
Androw glanced at the boy and asked, "Jon, do you have any wishes?"
Jon scratched his head and said, "Wish? I just want to be with you, master," then gave a shy smile.
Androw laughed and knelt down. "Listen, there's no way I'm going to let you stay around me forever. There will come a time when you'll have to find your own way, find your own happiness. All I can do is discipline and teach you, help you fight and mold you until you know all I know. Until you're ready." He grabbed Jon by both shoulders. "So, what's your real wish?"
Jon, tipping his fingers together, said, "Knight?" Embarrassed, he managed to add, "Strong as you?" He had seen how Androw took down wolves and men alike. To him, Androw was a strong man, maybe even a knight, not knowing what it really meant to be one.
Androw chuckled. "I'm no knight, boy."
Jon looked confused. "No?"
Androw, wanting to motivate the boy, said, "I will become one soon."
Jon's face lit up. "Really?"
Androw nodded. "If you really wish to become a knight, I will help you."
At that moment, someone was waiting outside the forge, gaining the attention of both Jon and Androw. Androw turned to look at the person. It was Rhaena.
Her eyes showed a lot of questions but dull ones. Androw then said, "Jon, go outside."
Jon looked disappointed and curious about the beautiful lady with silver hair. Still, he had no choice. One thing he didn't want to do was disappoint Androw, but another thing was his curiosity. He chose the first.
Androw walked closer, laying the sword in the forge. Their eyes met, and Androw took a breath. He had been expecting her ever since the raven flew to Winterfell from King's Landing. But it had taken longer than he expected for Rhaena to reach him. He walked closer to her, calling, "Rhaena," in a mild tone.
There was a silence between them. Two feet apart, Androw halted, stopping just wary of closing the distance. Rhaena's eyes remained fixed on his face, cold and unreadable. Androw, however, glanced past her, noticing the figures standing a few steps away from the forge—her guards.
One, in particular, caught his attention: a red-haired, middle-aged man clad in the armor of the Kingsguard.
"Red Dog," Androw muttered under his breath, recognizing the man. He hadn't expected the King to send one of his most loyal guards alongside Rhaena. The man's presence was a statement—a clear sign that the stakes were higher than Androw anticipated.
At that moment, Rhaena spoke, her voice calm but cutting through the tension. "How long are you going to ignore me?" There was no trace of anger or sadness in her tone, only a strange, unsettling neutrality.
Androw met her eyes but didn't speak right away. He let the silence stretch for a second longer before finally responding. "I feel wronged," he said, his voice low and deliberate.
He glanced outside the forge, his eyes flickering over the additional men she had brought. "You brought more men than I thought," he noted, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Then, turning back to her, his expression hardening slightly, he asked, "Are you here for me... or for my head?"
She took a breath and said, "You've changed a lot since last time."
Androw took a few steps back, his hand slowly inching toward his sword. Sensing his wariness, Rhaena's voice remained steady as she added, "If I wanted your head, why would I come all the way here?"
Androw chuckled lightly, a bitter edge to his laughter. "Well, that's the kind of woman you are."
To his surprise, Rhaena smiled, unoffended, which made Androw tense up. She had always been difficult to read, and her calm now was unsettling. "Hmm," she mused. "I won't blame you for what you just said. I was terrible to you... and I wished for one chance to make things right."
She took a step closer to him, but her movement halted when Androw drew his sword, the cold steel reflecting the dim forge light. For a moment, her expression softened, concern evident in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened until now."
Androw's expression remained firm, his grip tightening around the sword's hilt. "Leave, Rhaena. We've had enough talk," he said, his voice cold and resolute.
But Rhaena didn't move. "I won't... unless you come back with us.".
[
Hello everyone, as I mentioned earlier, I'm making changes to the flow of the story. In fact, I will be revising everything up to chapter 49. Regardless, I will continue releasing chapters, though I haven't set a release date yet. I'll keep you updated on that. For early access and more chapters, feel free to join my Patreon.
link: patreon.com/AmouxCreationX
]