(Third-person perspective)
Maester Luwin dismounted, and Eddard gestured for him to come forward, his tone reassuring yet urgent. "Maester, don't be afraid, come quickly."
Despite some hesitation, Maester Luwin approached Aermir, though he couldn't help but keep a wary eye on the Sith. The fear in his eyes was palpable when he glanced at the beast. However, as he reached Aermir's side, he forced himself to suppress his unease and focused on his work. After a thorough examination, he made his assessment.
" Ser Aermir seems exhausted. A rest and a good meal should help him recover by the time he wakes up. I also suggest giving him some cereal broth. He should be able to drink it if we use a small spoon."
Hearing that Aermir was alright, Eddard couldn't help but notice the displeasure etched on his wife's face. At that moment, he made up his mind to take a decisive step, even if it meant straining their relationship. He believed it was necessary for their family's future, because they might not be so lucky next time. Even now, the thought of something happening to one of Aermir's familiars sent chills down his spine.
"From this moment forward, I Winterfell's rule," Eddard declared, shocking the soldiers and knights standing by as witnesses. Catelyn, however, seemed the most astonished.
"From this day forward, the Lady of Winterfell shall have authority over her servants only; no soldier or knight shall be under her direct command. Any order she issues must be confirmed with Ser Rodrik or with me personally. Those who disobey shall bear the consequences."
Catelyn left the scene without a word, her face contorted with anger.
After Aermir was carefully carried back to his room to rest, the other residents of Winterfell resumed their daily routines. Lord Stark, however, went into their private room. Catelyn was engrossed in needlework, her fingers deftly tracing the fabric. The room itself was as tidy as ever, with everything in its proper place. Yet, despite the sunlight streaming in, the atmosphere inside seemed shrouded in darkness.
Catelyn continued her work without even glancing in her husband's direction. Lord Stark sat in his chair and sighed heavily, his weariness evident on his face. With that sigh, exhaustion seemed to wash over him like a relentless tide.
"You don't even understand the nature of your own mistakes, do you?" he began, his voice tinged with frustration and disappointment. "All you know is that you're enduring injustice."
Lady Stark's words were filled with resentment; her anger and frustration were palpable. "At least you know what you've done. How dare you humiliate me in front of so many people! For what? Just for a beast or a lowly birth? In the Riverlands, we wouldn't even sit at the same table with such a person."
Eddard sighed heavily, the tension between them weighing heavily on him. " Cat, I love you," he said, his voice tinged with sadness and resentment, "But this must stop. You're no longer in the Riverlands. You've been here for over a decade, yet you haven't fully embraced the culture of the North. But that's partly my fault. I shouldn't have built that church for you, nor brought those monks and nuns. I should have guided you differently, taught you better things."
He paused, looking sincerely into her eyes, as had always been the case between them. "A year ago, that man of humble origins you speak of triumphed over the Lady of Winterfell in front of so many people. It made you feel like an outsider, an intruder in your own home. But you haven't learned your lesson. You allowed him to do it. Why? Because you're utterly devoted to the damned Seven."
Catelyn was deeply enraged by Eddard's last words. She knelt down and began to pray fervently. "Never insult the Seven!" she pleaded, her voice trembling with a mixture of piety and anger.
However, Eddard remained adamant.
"Your gods have no power here! When will you understand that?" he retorted, his frustration evident in his tone.
"The creature you want to kill to avenge Aermir, do you know its power? That beast could take on a hundred fully armed knights and still emerge victorious."
He was furious and slammed his fist on the table, sending everything crashing to the ground. The wine jug shattered into pieces, and the sudden outburst made Catelyn involuntarily shrink back.
"You have no idea how close you are to death," Eddard continued, his voice stern.
"How could you ignore the danger? Even now, you're not necessarily safe. I don't know if I can protect you from his wrath."
Catelyn tried to understand him, a wave of confusion washing over her. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Why are you so wary of that lowly person? What does it matter whether he's a skilled swordsman or possesses Wildlings magic?"
Eddard was speechless; he began to feel annoyed by his wife's ignorance.
" Wildlings magic... You mean Wildlings magic?"
Lord Stark struggled, bound by his oath, unable to reveal the truth. He knew he couldn't expose Aermir's true identity and power, so he wove a web of deception to convince his wife that Aermir was not to be trifled with.
"I'm referring to the Druid," he announced convincingly, his gaze fixed intently on her.
"When the king attempted to execute the monster, the Aermir the Druid defied him. He wasn't even afraid of the king himself. Can you imagine what he might do if enraged? And what you've heard about his abilities is only a small part of the truth. How can you be so ignorant of what's happening throughout Westeros? Even the children of faraway Essos know the legends of the Emre the Druid and his immense power."
Catelyn couldn't deny that she had tried to dissuade anyone from discussing Aermir or anything related to the Old Gods. She felt Eddard grip her hand tightly, pleading with her to stop the pointless fighting.
"Please, Cat, end this pointless conflict. Why do you care about him so much?" he pleaded with her.
Her eyes widened in anger as she retorted, "Himself of humble origins! How dare he overshadow my son? How can he be more illustrious than our future master? Wherever I go, people speak highly of him. Even our own son idolizes him like a hero."
Eddard's voice rose with fervor. "He's a hero!" he declared loudly, his words filled with unwavering faith in Aermir.
Eddard sighed deeply, trying to vent his anger, but it didn't work. He continued speaking to his wife, his voice filled with frustration and disappointment.
"Jealousy has blinded you and deafened you," he lamented. "Do you know his exploits in this war? He single-handedly defended our western coastline, routing hundreds upon hundreds of Ironborn invaders. Thanks to his bravery, we suffered almost no casualties during the siege of Pyke. This is a final warning, Cat, I will no longer tolerate any of your hostility. This conversation ends here!"
With the ultimatum still pending, Eddard had no room for further argument or debate. He had drawn a line, and Catelyn knew she absolutely could not cross it. She could see the anger beginning to ignite in her husband's eyes.
(Male protagonist's perspective)
Opening my eyes was a huge struggle. When I finally did, I felt a splitting headache, as if someone was mercilessly hammering my head. What made it even worse was that the moment I regained consciousness, my familiars swarmed around me, asking me questions.
"Master!"
"Foolish Aermir, why did you faint? You're too weak. You should eat more meat like me."
As he scolded me, Erebus threw a lifeless rabbit in front of me.
"Master, Artio and Brother Berus are very worried."
"Father! Are you alright?" Bo asked.
Im peeked out from under my clothes, licked my cheek, and nestled his head against me. "Master, we were very worried."
Amid their concerned voices, I struggled to piece together what had happened. The reality struck me like a heavy brick. I glanced quickly at my ankle, where the blue handprints still lingered on my skin. I realized I had lost a great deal of magic in the fight against the Night's King's icy grip. The Night's King was real; 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 launched his attack yet? If everything I'd witnessed was true, he had roughly eighty thousand, or even more, wizards at his disposal. Yet, he hadn't begun his southward march. My thoughts drifted to the Wall, a colossal structure stretching two hundred meters into the sky. Such a sturdy the Wall couldn't have been built to defend against ordinary people. It dawned on me that this might be precisely why it was built—perhaps the Night's King couldn't cross it.
My immediate priority is monitoring them. My journey to the Lands of Always Winter is an astral journey, and I recall that alluring light beckoning me. While it intrigues me, it's not my primary concern right now. The most important thing is figuring out how to reach the far the North. I need an animal that can thrive in such harsh conditions. While Sith is an option, I need her here, and I need an animal with superior scouting abilities.
Just then, I thought of snowy owls. They are perfectly suited to the frigid climate of the far north. I need to tame one. However, as I pondered these questions, I suddenly sensed weariness emanating from Sith. With this feeling of pain, I noticed she was licking small wounds on her body. Although they weren't serious, I could feel her discomfort.
" Sith, are you alright?" I asked with concern.
"Master, I'm fine, just a little sore," she replied. I turned to Bo, who was lying by my window, and asked her to explain what had happened. As she recounted what had happened after I suddenly lost consciousness, a surge of anger welled up inside me. I would make that bitch pay.
I walked toward the courtyard where Sith lived, and the scene before me made me both angry and amused. Sith looked a little battered from her recent ordeal, but the most comical thing was the appearance of Rickon and Bran, who fearlessly climbed onto her head and back. She shook them off, lightly bit their collars, and playfully tossed them to the ground, while the two boys giggled happily before quickly continuing their climbing adventure.
Bran was ten and Rickon was five. They must have escaped the nanny's pursuit; people were probably frantically searching for them. It was quite a sight. Sith usually wouldn't allow anyone near her, let alone ride on her, but now she tolerated boys climbing all over her.
"Master, could you please get rid of these wolf pups that look like humans? They're getting more and more annoying. They're so strange, I'm so confused. They have the scent of Warg, yet they look like humans, and their magical scent is very similar to Robb's. I don't know what these wolf pups are. The only thing they resemble about humans is their appearance, which is really puzzling."
-They are not Direwolf-
I clarified. "They smell like wolves because they often sleep with wolves."
Sith continued, "So they are human children?"
I confirmed: - Yes. -
But they didn't feel like humans; they felt like animals.
A weary smile appeared on my face.
I said to the boys.
" Rickon, Bran, let her go. You're starting to annoy her."
I was curious about their nanny, so I asked, "Where's your nanny, you two little wolves?"
Bran replied with a smug smile, "When they took us to Maester Luwin for his lesson, we ran away from them."
"Ahhh!"
Just then, I heard a sharp scream, so I quickly turned around to find the source of the sound.