(Third-person perspective)
Aermir rode atop the massive, armored Shadowcat Sith, leading a magnificent procession of two hundred noble knights toward Winterfell —a sight both awe-inspiring and awe-inspiring. Sith's obsidian fur shimmered like the midnight sky, her enormous paws carrying her effortlessly, her feline elegance incongruous with her size. Exquisite silver armor adorned her powerful physique, gleaming like starlight, each piece a perfect work of magical armor. Over time, Sith's black and white fur had turned pure black. Her once striped body now resembled an obsidian statue; the white stripes on her skin had faded to a true dark gray.
Behind Aermir, the Paladins of the Old Gods and his order followed closely. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight, like a symphony of gleaming steel, and they stood in neat ranks. Banners bearing the temple emblem fluttered proudly in the wind, proclaiming their loyalty. The black background of the banners featured a fir tree. With each hoofbeat of the cavalry, the ground seemed to tremble, inspiring awe.
The procession continued its advance, forming a river of knights beneath the towering stone walls of Winterfell. Aermir, a man of imposing stature and elegant bearing, led the vanguard like a living legend. His presence radiated an aura of authority and glory. Behind him, the paladins of the Old Gods followed closely, their armor adorned with ancient symbols and patterns.
As the procession advanced, the ground seemed to tremble under their weight; their red and white cloaks billowed in the wind, as if the wind itself were deliberately designed to make them appear more valiant and imposing. The procession marched through the Citadel's main road toward the inner the Wall. Sith's powerful strides were rhythmic and silent. One would expect such a towering figure to make a distinct sound with each step, but she seemed weightless. If they hadn't seen this majestic behemoth and felt the dangerous aura emanating from her, they could swear she was a mirage.
As the procession approached the main castle gates, the guards saluted Aermir and recognized him. Knights rode through the courtyard, the sound of their hooves echoing on the cobblestones. Although not everyone had the privilege of attending the grand feast in the main hall, their distinguished lineage and valiant deeds earned them a place.
Among the entourage were about forty or fifty knights from prominent families, the only ones allowed to attend the grand feast in the Great Hall. The rest dined in the courtyard. You could see the banners of different families fluttering among the Stark wolf banners in the courtyard, creating a vivid picture of unity in the North.
A grand feast awaited them, a celebration of friendship and shared purpose. As the knights dispersed for the festivities, the courtyard was filled with their laughter, the clinking of goblets, and the warmth of newly discovered camaraderie. Aermir and the Paladins of the Old Gods ' epic procession not only united people from different noble families under one banner but also wrote a new chapter in the legacy of Winterfell.
Before the grand Citadel entrance, Aermir received a warm welcome from his old friends Robb and Jon. As they exchanged greetings, Robb, unable to contain his playful nature, mockingly addressed Aermir as, "Oh, great commander of the paladins, the Sword of Winter, and the Sword of the Old Gods, it is an honor to meet you." He gave a half-bow of delight, eliciting a burst of laughter from Jon. A smile bloomed on Aermir's face.
Robb grinned, his tone laced with mocking restraint. "Well, we must show the due respect to our esteemed and valiant leader of the paladins, mustn't we?"
Jon smiled and added, "Yes, it's a position only the strongest and bravest can hold."
Aermir put his hands on his waist and said
"That's right, I am the strongest. I can defeat both of you with the pinky of my right hand."
Robb's eyes gleamed with excitement as he spoke.
"Oh, is this considered a challenge? We're not the same people anymore since we last met three years ago."
Aermir knew they were better warriors and Warg; he had seen them occasionally as Druid and trained them, but he missed the days as their friend and the mischievous ones they caused.
Jon interjected, his tone laced with ulterior motive. "Speaking of training, have you been practicing your dance moves, Aermir?"
"Do you have one?"
Jon lowered his head mockingly and said
"I'm just a lowly Snow. With Robb around, you're the most deserving bachelor in the North. Noble ladies will ever ask me to dance."
"Aermir said."
"Haven't you seen your own face? Don't worry, they'll invite you too."
The three of them burst into laughter; their friendship was a testament to years of shared experiences. As the banter continued, the burden of responsibility instantly lifted, leaving only the bond of friendship.
As they walked toward the hall entrance, Aermir removed his cloak, for he knew what was about to happen. A she-wolf was about to charge at him. Suddenly, two figures rushed toward Aermir from either side. Two wolf cubs, Arya and Bran, jumped onto his back and tried to climb onto his shoulders.
Arya said angrily, "This is between me and Aermir, get out of here." She kicked Bran away from him. Compared to the 2.1-meter-tall Aermir, Arya looked like a child, but she was already 15 Name Day.
Aermir, used to her antics, allowed her to do so. It had become a tradition— Arya always climbed onto his back, and now Bran wanted to join in. Sansa was behind her, and she began to scold her sister, but Arya's provocative posture on Aermir's shoulder drew Sansa's disapproval.
" Arya, really? You're not a child anymore. This behavior is very indecent. You should behave like a young woman; this is inappropriate."
Robb chimed in, his face full of disapproval. "I have to agree with Sansa this time. You should start acting like you're your age."
Arya's response was to stick her tongue out at her two older siblings. "No, I won't change! Even if I become a wrinkled old lady in my sixties, I'll still climb on Aermir's back! It's our business, our custom, our tradition."
She pounded her chest with her fist and said mockingly.
"In the North, we cherish our traditions."
Sansa raised an eyebrow, her suspicion obvious. "Tradition? Climbing over someone else's shoulders is now considered tradition?"
Aermir chuckled, his deep voice joining the conversation. "Well, since it's tradition, what right do I have to object?"
Sansa said timidly.
"Aermir, please don't encourage her. She's a woman now, and you shouldn't be so close to women."
Aermir said with a smile
"Oh, this is just Arya. In my eyes, she'll always be a child, a little sister, or rather, a teenage Little She-Wolf."
Arya tapped Aermir on the head and pouted.
"I'm not a child anymore!"
Jon, who always championed peace, decided to speak up.
"Let her play, Sansa. It won't hurt anyone."
Robb always liked to stir things up; he leaned over and grinned at Aermir.
Does this mean you're going to let every girl in Winterfell put her arm around your shoulder?
Sansa said angrily.
"Robb, don't talk nonsense!"
"What, is this an honesty question?"
Aermir burst into laughter.
"I'm afraid my shoulders aren't that strong!"
Arya put her arm around Aermir's shoulder and stuck her tongue out at Robb.
"Okay, of course I welcome that. Right, Aermir?"
Aermir nodded exaggeratedly, chuckling. "Of course, madam. I will have the honor of undertaking this important task."
Sansa rolled her eyes.
"To be honest, you're all like children; you've all spoiled her."
Arya's malicious smile grew even brighter.
"That's because we had a lot of fun, Sansa. You should try it sometime."
Robb imitated the gesture and bowed.
"Well then, my lady, would you allow me the honor of letting you ride on my shoulders?"
Sansa's cheeks flushed slightly, and she gave Robb a playful glare.
"Absolutely not. I don't want to join that childish group."
A hint of nostalgia lingered in Aermir's smile. He missed the banter, the chaos. As laughter and conversation filled the air, the grandeur of the Great Hall gradually faded into the background.