The Prince That Was Promised (Old Version)

Chapter 12 : The Mountain Clans

Shireen Baratheon

Burley Vale – Burley Hold

Shireen stared at the mountain keep, grey stone rising from the hillside, blanketed with moss and weathered by time, as it sat quietly above a modest village. People had gathered along the road leading to its gates, lining the path with wary eyes and cautious hope.

She rode at the front of the column, side by side with her husband. A dragon perched on each of their shoulders, wings tucked, eyes sharp. Pride warmed her chest, mingling with quiet joy as she looked upon the hill clans and the northern folk who had come to see Orys.

They all looked at them, both wide-eyed and weary, at Freefolk and the Dragons.

She couldn't blame them; dragons and direwolves. The dragons had been dead for two hundred years, and Direwolfs had been seen south of the Wall in a century. Although they weren't the only thing, the people stared wide eyes at the giants. The creatures of legend that now walked among them. All these amazing things were traveling with an army of Freeflok, men of House Baratheon, and loyal vassals of House Stark, all following a supposed Stark King.

"So, these are the mountain clansmen. It's true they all came to Burley." She asked Orys. "Indeed, Lord Durick Burley invited them after I sent them a letter that a Stark King would travel to his holdfast. Although I doubt the man expected to find direwolves, giants, dragons, and Freeflok with men." Orys chuckled before adding. "I know two of the lords, Brandon Norrey and Old Flint Vorrin, both of whom I met when I wed Alys Karstark to Sigron Then."

She nodded. It was an odd sight, the number of people waiting for them. She at least thought there were a thousand. She hadn't expected as much. Then, most of the men who had gathered to wait for them wore mail and thick pelts of fur. Orys had been right. If her father had listened to him, he might have had these men, and these weren't even all of them. Most would probably still be in their own lord's lands. Yet her father had instead trusted Arnold Karstark. Which had cost him in the end.

As they approached the keep, the gates opened, and they rode into the courtyard. Those who had gathered knelt. Orys dismounted and helped her down, offering her a warm smile. He handed Rhaenax to Rickon, who had joined him at his side.

"Please, rise," Orys said, his voice clear.

The hill lords stood as one, their eyes fixed on the dragons and on Ghost and Shaggydog, who waited silently behind them.

"Your Grace, welcome to Burley Hold," a tall, greying man said, blue eyes sharp beneath his furs. "Its hospitality is yours for as long as you wish it. I am Lord Durick Burley."

"Thank you, my lord," Orys replied. "I've long wished to see the hills where my great-grandmother grew up. Burley Hold and its lands are beautiful. I hope to visit again when summer comes." He clasped the man's hand in greeting. She saw an old man with a white beard smile at the comment. Seeing it his sigil, it was Old Flint Vorrin.

"Lord Brandon. Lord Vorrin," he said with a nod, clasping their hands in turn. "It's good to see you again."

"Lord Loden Liddle, Your Grace," said a big man with a thick black beard.

"Lord Liddle, a pleasure to meet you," Orys said with a respectful nod.

Soon enough, all the hill lords had greeted him.

"My lords," Orys said, turning toward the group, "allow me to present my wife and Queen Shireen Stark, formerly known as Shireen Baratheon. And my brother, Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

The lords gave them both respectful bows.

"Your Grace," Lord Burley asked, looking at Orys. As the man looked wearily at the dragons and Freeflok that had joined them in the courtyard. More gasped and arose as Wun Wun walked inside. "will you accept bread and salt?"