The wolves of Castle Black - Book 2 - GoT

Time to play

As soon as they arrived to the Flints' camp, Lord Adler Hartwig finally understood what Ylina meant when she said they were different. And he wasn't saying it just because of the heights they lived in or how difficult it was to get there; the Eyrie was just as tricky to climb as the Northern mountains, after all, but the Flints didn't live in castles like every other high lord he had ever encountered. Instead, they lived in tents. Sure they were big and rather fancy tents, but still... Lord Hartwig never thought he would ever encounter something like that.

As he climbed down from his mule, Lord Hartwig watched as Briston helped Ylina down to the ground again. Standing beside Davos, he watched as the young man talked to their lady and she nodded at him before picking up the ends of her dress and walking toward them as Briston walked away.

"Briston's going to bring Lord Flint to us." She said. "Now, don't comment anything about the tents, and if he asks where you are from, let me talk. The Flints are direct descendents from one of the most ancient Northern families known to men. They don't really like southerners."

"Well, wasn't it dangerous for us to come, my lady?" Lord Hartwig asked, as Ylina shrugged.

"No. They don't hate you. They would just rather not talk to you." She said. "But now you're fighting for me, so that should be enough."

At that, both the lord and Davos nodded, but before they could say anything else, they heard footsteps coming in their direction and Ylina was quick to turn around, just in time to see Briston walking side by side with a man, much older than him. As they walked toward them, Lord Hartwig took a second to look at him. Like most northmen, the man had a light tone to his skin, but probably due to his age, it was already crinkled at places. He had a scar in his face that came all the way from his right eye to his chin and the red mark there made his clear blue eyes all the more scary. His hair probably wasn't that colour when he was born but now, the long locks were tied up in a ponytail behind his back, causing his white hair to fall down until the middle of his back at least. The man was old, but he was big and clearly strong and judging by the scars in his body and the big axe tied to his back, Lord Hartwig was sure he was a warrior at heart.

Still, as soon as his eyes fell on Ylina, the tall, scary, stocky man opened a smile so wide and sincere he suddenly didn't feel intimidating at all. Lord Hartwig had his hand on his sword, ready to fight for his lady if needed be, but as he watched the small girl, who didn't even reach the big man's shoulders while standing in her heels, extended her hand toward him with a smile, Hartwig knew she was safe, at least for now.

"Lady Stark." The old man said, as he brought Ylina's hand up to his lips to press a light kiss to the back of it. "It is my honor and my pleasure to receive you, my lady."

"Thank you, Lord Flint." She smiled up at him gently. "Your hospitality and kind letters honor me."

"I was ecstatic to hear word from you, my lady." Lord Flint continued. "Everyone thought that Greyjoy fucker had killed you along with your brothers. When we received your letters, however... You can't even imagine how pleased we were."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Oh, and I am deeply sorry for what happened to your family, Lady Stark. A tragedy unparalleled."

"Aye." She nodded. "Definitely a tragedy."

"Well, but the past is the past and now that you are here, my lady, and back home, we can start discussing the future, aye?"

With a smile and a nod in his direction, Ylina agreed.

"I was hoping we would."

"Very well, then... Let me take you inside so you can warm up. Climbing all the way here in the middle of the night isn't the easiest thing to do. May I offer something to drink? Or eat?"